#* WRITING.

[fuyuans]

୭୧   ˖  ݁𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃

mdni: fem reader ﾉ cunnilingus, fingering

notes from fuyuans: my first posted work. this is just a little blurb for any general character. ꒰๑´͈ ᵕ `͈๑꒱

he sees the gates of heaven when he slowly slides your cotton underwear down your legs; discarding them somewhere in your shared bedroom. he places open mouth kisses up your thigh leading up to your soaked pussy. he rubs your clit with his thumb, burying his nose into your sex. he devours you like it's the best meal to ever grace his mouth. he could spend hours in between your plush thighs if you let him. his tongue replaces his thumb on your swollen clit while he massages your folds. he keeps the pace slow for awhile before pumping faster, faster, faster. he listens to the pleas spilling from your lips. “‘s too much — please.” he just adds another finger, fucking them into you as your walls begin tighten. a tear rolling down your cheek from the overstimulation. he continues sucking on your clit and curling his fingers until sweetness covers his face. if he died right then and there, he would die a happy man.

[makemeactup]

Ringo Starr x Reader - Stolen Glances

Summary: Ringo has feelings for his long time friend, but cant bring himself to do more than steal glances.

This is actually something I wrote for my oc but thought everyone would enjoy it. So — here ya go!

---

It wasn't that Ringo was scared to say anything to you. No, he wasn't the least bit worried about the outcome. You were adults now, it'd be fine. But, perhaps, he was just being cautious about the situation. Weighing up the possibilities and the comfort of the now. Such as:

Everytime you would playfully shove him, or playfully punch his shoulder, or playfully try to fight or wrestle, or just sit next him or drape your legs over his lap or put your head on his shoulder, Ringo held a humongous grin. His cheeks would tint a soft red. His blue eyes took you in as quickly as they could without drawing any attention.

Each time, he played along or dismissed you with a joke. Sometimes he would wrestle or take an exaggerated boxing stance, or he'd put his hand around your legs to make sure that you could relax and not worry about them sliding off. You'd smile at him then, beaming and radiant. And it'd be just for him — until one of the other boys, usually John, demanded your attention.

You were like that with everyone for the most part, Ringo had reasoned. You'd playfully shove George, but you wouldn't try to fight him. You'd use Paul as a pillow, but you wouldn't try to wrestle with him. You'd offer both men your smile, the one they all knew so well. But John, to Ringo's eyes, was too close to how you treated him.

John did get the playful fights and attempts to wrestle, and sometimes you'd get put into a headlock or he'd have his arm wrenched behind his back. John did get sat next to, and he got your head on his shoulder, or legs over his lap. But worst of all, he got the smile. The others got the smile, sure, but that wasn't the same. It was a specific smile.

But who was Ringo against John? Clint Eastwood versus Larry Fine?

Oh well, Ringo would shrug to himself at the thought. You were all long time friends, nothing more. His feelings had to pass, right? The denial certainly wouldn't, but that was neither here nor there.

Sat behind his drumkit, drumsticks held loosely in hand, he watched his friends interact. He watched you as you laughed at something George had said, waving him away. He admired your side profile, your shiny hair. Your shirt was nice today.

Sporadically, his eyes flickered to whoever was talking, an attempt to cover his tracks. He'd crack a smile and laugh at a joke or story, but he wasn't actually listening. Not as he gently hit the cymbals absentmindedly, and not as he looked at you again.

"—right, Ringo?" Came the sudden voice of Paul, the use of his name knocking him back into the room.

It was only then, under the scrutinising stares of his friends, did the drummer realise that his face gave away his previously absent mind. His eyes, dark with the apparent lack of sleep lately, grew briefly wide as he perked up and looked at Paul.

"What'd you say, Paul?"

"You alright? You look spaced out."

"Oh," Ringo blinked. "Yeah, I'm fine. And you?"

"You're gonna get bug-eyed if y' keep starin'," John hummed, smirk wide. He had obviously seen something the others hadn't.

"In me own world," Ringo raised an arm and moved his drumstick in a circular motion beside his temple for emphasis.

"Can I join your world?" You asked innocently, brows arching, as if you'd have to plead for him to say yes.

"'course ya can!" He beamed softly. "None'a these jokers can, though."

"What have I done?" George asked, sounding offended to be included with John and Paul.

"Dunno, let me get back t' you," Ringo offered, earning a small laugh and smile from his friends.

His eyes met yours, and he offered a small shrug. When you didn't immediately turn around, he swore he felt his neck grow warmer and the grip on his drumsticks grow ten times tighter. His lips grew into a lopsided grin, nose turning a soft shade of red.

When you did eventually turn back around, he released a breath he didn't know he was holding. Swallowing thickly and lightly hitting his drumsticks together, he feigned interest in whatever joke or story was being told. All the while, as subtly as he could in the background, he kept stealing loving glances at you.

[displacedbias]

[pre-gala]

He can't be a coward again. Not this time. 

Deep breaths, Felix. It was hard to believe he'd gotten an invitation to the gala. Didn’t he embarrass himself last time? He recalled crying, moping, being upset that Teddy and Penny were together. While he was alone the whole time.

--No. No bad thoughts! If Teddy knew what he was thinking, he'd tell him to be nicer to himself. Not to dwell on these things. That this time, it'll be different, and that's what matters. Felix will not let himself be lonely and pathetic again. That's why he's here, after all. ...Even though every part of him was screaming not to do this, not to ruin their friendship with such a trivial whim.

Clammy hands rap on the door, not ready at all but forced to do it anyway. Felix couldn't stand stewing in such unbearable feelings for a second longer. He barely could stomach regular feelings. He couldn't help but think Teddy would handle something like this so much better in his place. Asking Penny out in the natural flow of conversation? So easily, so swiftly, without even an ounce of nervousness Felix was feeling right now? Right. That could never be him. Felix was much too inept for that.

"Felix?" --Goodness, he hadn't even noticed the door was open now, Ozzy's hands already quickly releasing its grip on the (already very clean) doorknob despite being aptly covered in nitrile gloves. His warm eyes met Felix's, a look of care piercing through the young Huxley's heart as he was reminded of everything he loved about Ozzy. The way his ginger hair caught the light of sunbeams, the way he stood at a bit of a distance unless you were someone he was comfortable with, the endearing love and excitement he harboured for that Destructotron franchise-- Ozzy blinked and creased his brow as he stood in the middle of the doorframe, "...You look like you really need the bathroom. Are you okay?"

And oh, how Felix admired how blunt Ozzy could be. ...Usually. Right now, however, he was mortified.

He could only hope his face didn't match Ozzy's hair as he shook his head frantically, "N-No! Not at all! I mean-- No to the first thing. I'm fine! Perfectly fine! Whyever would you think otherwise??"

Ozzy laughed awkwardly, "Uh... Well you're acting a lot more nervous than usual, for one thing. You're here without Ted, and you look like you reeeeally wanna say something. Which is, y'know. Rare."

Felix remained silent, glancing away long enough to completely miss the softened expression Ozzy was giving him.

"...So what's up? You can talk to me about anything, I promise. I'll listen." Ozzy concluded, smiling kindly.

How was it that everyone always seemed to know Felix better than himself? He took in a deep breath for what felt like the hundredth time in the past... however long he'd been standing on the doorstep, mustering the courage to knock. "Erm... So... You know the gala that Penny, Teddy, and I went to before...?" Felix fidgeted with his hands as he watched Ozzy nod, the silence urging him to continue, "W-Well... Would you... like to... bemydatetothegala--?"

It took Ozzy a second to process what Felix sped through saying. Be his date to the gala. Ozzy blinked. Felix blinked back. And then the panic set in. Ozzy wasn't saying anything. Why wasn't he saying anything--? ...Did asking that make him hate Felix!? Lord, please, no, Felix could not live with himself if that were the case. What if Ozzy shot him dead for daring to ask such a stupid question. Or worse, rejected him. And what if he tells him he hates him and that they can't be friends anymore and he's always secretly hated him and Teddy is so much better than he is and he is simply so unloveable and awful and pathetic and stupid and of course no one would ever like him and gets a restraining order against him for being so cringeworthy?? What the bloody hell was Felix thinking, doing this--

Ozzy smiled, a hint of shyness, and astonishment, and gratitude. He looked so happy. "You really mean it? You want to go with me?" Felix could swear his heart skipped a beat, and he wordlessly nodded. His entire mental ordeal had him so shaken that he was worried his voice wouldn't work properly if he said anything more. Ozzy held up some hand sanitizer. Felix took it, knowing what that meant. Vaguely, at least, because he wasn't at all ready when Ozzy gently grasped Felix's hands with the most tender touch after they were all sanitized up. "Felix... I'd be honoured to go to the gala with you. I'd love that. I really like you a lot and I... Well, I'm glad you asked me this time. Really. That means a lot to me."

For some reason, this reaction was a lot harder for Felix to wrap his head around than any other imagined scenario. "I... Ah... Huh...?" 

Ozzy chuckled and squeezed Felix's hand gently, "You're cute when you're confused." 'Cute'... Ozzy thinks Felix is cute...! "Anyway, thanks. I'm really excited, Fe. I guess... we could pick out outfits together, maybe? That'll be fun, right?"

And Felix smiled back, finally. Squeezed Ozzy's hand back too. That would be fun.

[yishuns]

@yoakkemae, continued.

“you—” shinichi inhales deeply. “yeah, i should’ve guessed that nothing about your thought process would be normal. it says right there that you have to eliminate the impossible first, genius. and getting deaged isn’t, scientifically speaking, a common — or even at all heard of — reaction to being drugged.” he’s not sure why he needs to disprove kaito’s assertion so vehemently, but something in him protests at being taken at his word like this. could it have been this easy from the beginning, if he’d trusted kaito sooner? “it’s not even like you knew me before i was conan, so how could you possibly…?”

[bloodwr4th]

If you get married, would you take your partners last name ?

question kol on relationship.

" i would. in a heartbeat, i would. i would not love for either my wife or husband to wear à name that can be sometimes heavy to bear. though, if they were a mikaelson, they would be feared. they would have anything. fear does that to people when they saw a mikaelson enters a room. "

[suscaping]

MODEL BY WALLOWS

* lyrics from the album that could be utilized for writing + plotting inspiration. listed in no particular assortment!

› would you give in or would you relent who's been trying to get in your bed? › i'd rather tell you a lie before predicting what i don't know could lead into false hope. › 'cause i know you can see we're more than a secret, you know i can be just what you want. › let's make up the best years you and i have ever had. › and i know you can see we'll have people talking, you know we can be just what they want. › are you running away from something? are you worried you're feeling nothing? › did you cross your fingers when you said forever? › does it linger when days are still young? › am i just a name you flip through in your story of people you've made to love you? › you could've given me a warning if you knew that all your walls would cave in. › and i'll come by when you don't mind, but not if it'll only waste your time. › there's a lot of things that i could tell you, but some things are left better if you never knew. › when my back’s against the wall, everything else gets stalled. › don't apologize for crying, i will always hold you space. › two more blank eyes lookin' through me, thinkin' of a place from where you maybe knew me. › if the mood's right, we'll talk all night. it might be a road to nowhere, but it's alright. › old wounds seem to open up with you. › you're what i've been chasing, show me where my days went. › can't think of the last time that i truly smiled 'til you looked up at me, could you stay a while? › i'm not in your head, can you help me understand? › do i need someone? i think about it all the time. › i'm just craving a connection, can you tell that i'm nervous just by my complexion? › i've fallen off the track, and it's harder to look back at you. › i knew the feeling would be forming after i took a look into your eyes. › just wake me up when it's over, my headache shows when it's sober. › i'll keep running until i crash into something. › is my life all wasted nights? this isn't what i had in mind. › i don't want to be forgotten, but i've been avoiding being found. › i'm hesitant to tell you something doesn't feel right. i'm nearing a collapse, but i swear that i'm intact. › maybe what i owe myself is an open heart to someone i wanna keep around.

[thisfeelingyourname]

the only one.

"you're not the only one tryna be the only one."

bill kaulitz x roman reigns smut | 2.4k words | minors dni | images from pinterest.

i am so excited to share my first long fic in years! likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated and thank you for reading! song inspo linked above. 🦋

cw: explicit, daddy kink, oral, finger sucking, body worship, post break up sex.

This is the beginning of a love story: a desperate wild-burn, a never letting go of the wound. There's sweetness somewhere hidden down in the heart of it and that's where the trap lies, razor sharp and without mercy. It's worth it, though whatever this story between them has become, it's worth it.

Bill doesn't feel foolish for wanting Roman as bad as he does. The time has passed and the desire is still there, ancient and wonderful. The feeling, he knows, is beautifully mutual. Roman is a careful man, a true gemini after all, but with Bill the ruse always crumbles and he's ended up showing his hand far too many times for Bill to ever doubt his intentions again.

Shit happens though and here they are in another round of their forever push-pull of love and running. This time their running chases them down to the hallowed halls of a local club, the night laced luscious with desire. It's bad how good Bill is in tying Roman neatly around his pretty finger, that darling smile simmering full into a delicious "come here" as he brings his lips to Roman's, butterflies white hot and free between the two of them as the walls and bodies dancing around them spin and spin into a glittering neon blur.

It's no secret that one thing Roman just could not stand about Bill was that wretched fucking mouth of his. Once he kicked off, it was a never-ending drama that Roman never seemed to figure out the point of, his mind wandering towards the inevitable make up sex after instead of listening to whatever Bill was fuming about. Luckily Roman learned just how good Bill's mouth was for less nauseating things, kissing him being one of the finest of those few things.

They've barely made it back to Roman's hotel room tonight, twin hands needing skin and skin, the wait in the elevator fanning the ache into wildfire. The room door clicks open and the two men stumble through, Bill's back meeting the wall with a delightful thump, a relieved sigh slipping from his lips when he lets Roman claim him, moaning open into his mouth as they kiss and kiss, blood deep with need.

Roman likes it when Bill gets eager grabbing at his ass through his jeans, a devilish smirk glinting on his lips as he brushes them against Bill's bottom lip, grazing his teeth along plush skin, nipping at his lip ring while he welcomes himself into Bill's body, strong hands searching up beneath Bill's blouse, goosebumps flushing up fresh beneath his touch as he palms Bill's chest, humming with appreciation when he feels him shudder with that thirsty turn of his hips against Roman's as he crushes his lips to his, tongue lapping greedy at his mouth.

It's addicting how good this feels to both of them, how gorgeously Bill melts into Roman's hands, trembling and perfect as he writhes against him, whining for him pressing his body closer while they kiss and kiss again, desire dripping down sweet and heavy.

Roman has always been very particular about his hair and it becomes all the more sacred to him when he feels Bill wash his fingers through long black locks, pulling impatiently as he grinds his hips against Roman's, his mouth pressed wet against Roman's, each kiss breathless, butterflies flowering up warm in Bill's chest.

"Why do we keep doing this stupid shit, baby?" the man Bill loves asks him suddenly. Roman is serious now, raising a hand and caressing it against the soft of Bill's cheek, his gaze level with Bill's and Bill is shaken, the knife in his chest twisting one more time. God, Roman is beautiful, so beautiful he ripples chills through Bill's body when he looks at him like that and for a moment Bill is left speechless, so utterly in love with him, his heart seeping honey to his knees.

He raises a hand brushing tattooed fingers along Roman's cheek, smiling as he watches the other's expression relax into the comfort of his touch. "Cuz it works for us, baby," is Bill's simple reply, that darling sparkle of a smile on his lips as he brings them back to Roman's, kissing him and sealing their fate for one more night.

That answer seems to satisfy them both and their world starts turning again, brilliant and devastating. They trade places for a little bit with Bill sat on his knees, looking up at his man with hearts in his eyes and lips parted and primed to perform. Roman sifts his fingers through soft blond strands, peering down at his most beloved, the sight of him nearly making him come right there.

Bill doesn't wait for his direction, instead moving his hands to settle them against Roman's thighs, sighing with pleasure when he feels all that muscle twitch in response. He has Roman right where he wants him and holds him there, unbuttoning his jeans and yanking them downward just enough to see what he wants.

He closes his eyes, reveling in the adoration of Roman's fingers coursing through his hair and a smile spreads on his face, dreamy and glowing when he nuzzles his cheek to Roman's clothed arousal, the fabric of his boxers already wet with precome. He drags his tongue stud slowly over the bulging tip, moaning quietly as he plants a kiss to it before trailing his mouth up towards Roman's hips, each kiss lingering and deliberate, reverence placed like a blessing upon his skin.

This game is just getting started, but already Roman feels like he's at the edge, a siren's song away from tragedy. He scoffs to himself, tilting his head back against the wall with a half smile, letting Bill to do what he does best. Bill is in heaven on his knees playing his part, mouthing kisses to Roman's dick, his body throbbing with excitement at how hard Roman is for him. There's nothing left for either of them to say. It all gets misunderstood anyway.

Roman lets him have it all, praising Bill in stuttering, panting breaths, his hand firm on the back of Bill's head, guiding him as Bill gladly sucks him off, dribbles of saliva and precome clinging to his chin. The feeling of being full of Roman is heart-singing to Bill, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his skull with happiness.

It's ruthless how good Bill is at sucking dick and Roman is alight with pride at his creation, rewarding him with a jolt of his hips into Bill's mouth, grinning as he watches Bill take all of him with ease, brown eyes love struck when they look at one another, raw with longing. "My baby girl," whispers Roman, the words sealing themselves in Bill's heart as tears start to well in his eyes. He allows Roman's dick to fall from his mouth before stroking it slow, wetting a rose of a kiss to the head, the taste of him like an aphrodisiac on Bill's tongue. He gazes up at Roman then, smiling. "Your baby girl..." he whispers back to him in tenderness, gorgeous face smeared with come.

They undo one another then, slipping out of their clothes still tangled up pleasantly with one another until they tumble naked into the lush, king bed, the blankets quickly pushed out of the way. Roman has Bill resting his back against the pillows on the headboard, long legs spread apart for him like it's instinct. Bill is so agonizingly hard, his dick taut against his stomach but he doesn't even think to go there, his attention trained only on the man he loves in front of him, whose loving hands are tip-toeing down the sweat slicked flesh of Bill's inner thighs.

They find each other then, Bill's fingers locking themselves around fistfuls of black hair, a groan rumbling low in Roman's throat as he crushes his mouth against Bill's, kissing as if they're running out of forever. Bill is desperate, pleading open mouthed into Roman's, his breath caught in his throat when Roman's fingers fan themselves over Bill's hole, sensitive flesh tensing up and a grin spreads itself wicked on Roman's face, he's got Bill caught, ready and absolutely miserable for him. He moves his lips to Bill's throat, dotting kisses along blushing skin until he meets his pulse point fluttering tender beneath his tongue.

It's torture for Bill, everything in him wrecked open, displayed like an offering waiting in Roman's hand and he wouldn't have it any other way. Especially now when he feels Roman fold a few of his fingers against the plush of Bill's lips, those honey brown eyes darkening and Bill swallows hard, mesmerized in his beloved's gaze as he takes Roman's fingers in his mouth, lazily rolling his tongue over them, his eyes never shying away from him.

He knows that Roman knows that he's the only one that can work Bill down like this and it's a privilege that Roman dares not take lightly. "Good girl," he murmurs, nodding in admiration, moving his other hand to stroke the side of Bill's face. A sound of contentment rises from Bill's throat before he snakes a hand down between them to play with Roman's dick, teasing him in slow, careful strokes. The feeling shoots stars pink and blue in Roman's vision, every nerve wound up delicious with ache.

He shoves his fingers further into the wet heat of Bill's mouth, dragging them out before pushing them back in. Bill gifts Roman with another pretty noise, following his lead as he begins to deep throat his fingers, tightening one hand around Roman's wrist as he continued to work his dick, pearls of precome messy between his fingers. It's almost insufferably good to Roman and he chooses to please his baby girl, bringing his other hand back down between Bill's legs he presses a finger against his hole, just barely coaxing inside and Bill whimpers anxiously in reply, his expression pleading as he bucks his hips frantic against Roman's hand.

He knows the bad twin is showing up and he tears Roman's fingers from his mouth, gathering his face into his hands to marry his mouth to Roman's. "Fuck me," Bill gasps, the words urged against Roman's lips and Roman obliges him, moving to lean his back against the headboard as he sat open legged and waiting, the bad twin wide awake and ripe to devour as he raised a hand, directing Bill towards him.

"C'mere, Billa," Roman's tone is dipped in that smoky bass and Bill is spell bound, crawling on top of Roman, straddling him as warm hands plant themselves to Bill's waist. They look at each other then, something trembling between them and for a second Bill is terrified of how much he loves Roman, his body reaching for him as if he might lose him in the dark.

"'m not goin' anywhere, baby," assures Roman, gentle voiced with a kiss crowned to the top of Bill's hair as he burrows his face in the heat of Roman's neck, stubble tickling against his skin. He closes his eyes, inhaling the heady scent of Roman's body and it's comforting, his heart beating like wedding bells in his chest and he relaxes, quietly exhaling.

"Want me to fuck you now?" Roman wants to know, drawing a hand to Bill's back, soothing circles to precious skin. Bill nods his head with a smile, butterflies swarming in his belly when he feels the tip of Roman's dick nudge against his hole, his breath hitching when he edges further in, his toes curling with delight.

They share a tiny gasp when Bill takes him to the hilt, the feeling causing Bill's mouth to fall open in bliss. He squeezes down on Roman's dick, the start of a moan on his lips when Roman grips his ass hard in reply, steadying him before he starts to fuck into him, the pace gradual as Bill joins him, moving his hips in perfect sync, thanking Roman with his mouth, kissing and kissing him.

They're made for each other, from the beginning to the end. Roman holds Bill close, needing so much more of him it's insatiable. He's taking him so well and he's so tight Roman is sure he won't last long and he swears again, smacking Bill's ass, the skin beneath burning rose red and Bill cries out, wincing from the sting, pain ringing in his ears and he screws himself down on Roman's dick, the move bleeding stars in their eyes as the end closes nearer, Bill scrambling to scar his nails into Roman's back, crying for him in broken, gasping breaths and Roman keeping Bill there, fucking him harder, faster pulling him back down to heaven, that sweet oh oh oh from Bill's lips spoken soft against Roman's mouth as Bill fawns over him, beautiful face cast golden when he comes at last, rutting against Roman in ecstasy, his name sang over and over like thank god.

It's over for Roman then when Bill comes, splendid body clenching up around his dick one last time, milking him empty as he comes inside of him. It's exhilarating the climax that washes over Roman, knocking him straight to cloud nine. He buries his face into the crook of Bill's shoulder, a drawn out groan bitten into blushing skin, marking what's always been his. A long exhale heaves itself from Roman's body and he settles into the calm of the afterglow, willing his eyes closed as the two of them lie together, silent and sated, merged skin to soul with one another.

Knowing fingers thread themselves through blond hair moments later, a kiss wed to Bill's temple, stray strands still stuck to his forehead and Bill purrs, gratified and safe in the well of Roman's warmth, full of his come and his dick still inside of him. The mood is cool and Roman ventures to strike up some pillow talk.

"So," he starts, his voice run a little rough. "Tell me what I gotta do to lock you down for good, beautiful." He isn't joking and Bill glances up at him, noting the race of his heart beat mirroring his own. Bill doesn't want to sour the moment, but he has to tell the truth. It's simple, really. The best things in life usually are. Bill smiles kind and leans in a kiss, intimate and just between them, butterflies stirring alive in his chest once, twice and again.

"Stay," he whispers.

And it's the truth.

[rzmusings]

if all my tears could be exchanged for something, i'd buy one last dance with you. i'd hire the peaceful night to make an appearance, breaking into my savings for that magic that once lay in the way you looked at me.

you would touch me the same way you did that night, gliding across my skin like it were made of petals. you would smile my favourite smile, small eyes beaming like crescent moons, and you'd whisper your love for me with the unwavering certainty you once had.

— and i would try to believe you again.

[lovelesslittleloser]

HOW DO I BE SUBTLE BUT BLATANT ABOUT THE FACT THAT THESE TWO WILL GET TOGETHER IN THE END

I don’t want to write ‘omg he’s so hot bark bark bark’ because THAT’S NOT IN CHARACTER!!! :)))

SO WTF AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!

[dk-thrive]

A poem-shaped space, I thought. A poem-shaped space.

I pulled out my notebook, scratched a few words in ink. A poem, a poem, I thought. No; it was not actually this that I thought. A poem-shaped space, I thought. A poem-shaped space. I tried to hold a poem-shaped space in my mind. Sometimes the work of life is like preparing a bedroom for a guest: sweeping the floor, emptying the ashtray, watering the sloping aloe plant. Opening the window wide to let new air in. I did all this inside my head, behind my eyes, while my fingers made words appear and waited for that guest to arrive.

— Sean Michaels, Do You Remember Being Born: A Novel (Astra House, September 5, 2023)

[am4zon]

From Diana, Mikey has received every inch of her love and then some more, scraped from the lining of her heart and the marrow of her bones. Of course, loving him was sometimes like loving a jagged edge of a man, with every attempt to bring him closer cutting her deeper. Is it love when you bleed for them? But hope; Diana decides to hope. In fact, she chooses hope. Then watches that hope bloom like a flower every time she returns home to Mikey and his skin is clean of the scent of his addiction. When he doesn't smell like he's decaying, she counts this as a blessing.

In this moment, it is her with a stench, the guts of a monster still tangled in her hair, yet her smile doesn't fade, not when he is hers to hold. ❛ Is it too late to entice you into the shower? ❜ Diana asks, playful, not quite grasping the weight of what he means when he says there is something he needs to tell her. That smile of hers, the one she only has for him, is his to keep. Or his to destroy...

@n0thingandnobody :)))))

[arklay]

a lesson in temperance.

pairing: diana afanasyeva x alex wesker words: 6.5k warnings: nsfw, mild degradation [read on ao3]

Vanilla and orange blossom. So heady, so sweet, as it swam out of the bathroom and filled the air surrounding Alex. She couldn’t help but breathe it in, wishing to be closer to the cause, to really smell all that lived on her partner’s skin; where jasmine thrived on her neck, down her chest and to her wrists, laced with gardenia and sandalwood.

Alex hummed to herself, directing her mind back on task when the loud whir of the hairdryer ripped her from her thoughts. She leaned down and plucked a small box from the back of her bedside drawer.

Wrapped in a pale blue silk ribbon, the little black box contained a surprise for only one other set of eyes to see, and that made her shiver in anticipation. She could already imagine the look she would receive. An amused laugh, or a pointed glare. Perhaps both. And that only served to encourage her plan for the day.

In only a few strides she stood before the bathroom, eyes landing on Diana clad only in a towel with the cause of that incessant noise in one hand and a comically large round brush in the other. So focused she was in tackling the thick, dark strands, it was as if Alex didn’t exist. Only when the blonde chuckled, low and velvety, did her eyes dart over to the doorway, and not a second later, the press of a button granted them silence.

Diana lowered the hairdryer and brush, discarding them on the counter as her eyes roamed over Alex. From the smug smirk painted on red lips, to the small box cradled in adorned fingers, she could only wonder what her partner was up to this time.

“Do I want to know what that is?” she asked, the jest hardly hiding the curiosity that clung to it.

Alex let out another rich, breathy sound, rounding the apples of her cheeks. The raised brow and inquisitive stare was already a reward in and of itself for her. But not enough.

She walked into the stifling room – no matter how many times she told Diana to turn on the fan, she never would – and closed the distance between them. Then, her forefinger began a slow, methodical trace of the top edge of the box, drawing Diana’s gaze for but a moment.

“You didn’t really think I would forget about last night, did you?” That earned a dramatic roll of blue eyes, followed by an amused grin. One that deepened the indents on her cheeks so deliciously. But she didn’t speak, only locking her eyes onto Alex’s and letting her continue. “Punishment is in order.”

“Can’t win your forgiveness through your stomach anymore, can I?”

Alex pursed her lips, drawing her brows inward in a look of mock sympathy. Then she lazily shook her head. “No.”

The breakfast she had made her was quite sweet, but it didn’t make up for the fact that Diana had come last night before Alex had given her permission to. She had been far too lenient in the past it seemed, because this behaviour only appeared to continue. Although, it did bring about a warm glow beneath Alex’s breast at how much Diana got off on pleasing her.

With her partner’s attention drawn so close, hanging on in anticipation, Alex closed two fingers around the ribbon to direct her gaze. A gentle pull and it came free. Yet she lingered, grasping the lid and doing no more, and Diana’s eyes raised to meet hers. It was almost desperate, the look in them. How much she wished to know exactly what was in store for her.

She finally opened the box. Letting the lid sit back on her palm, she plucked a bullet-shaped toy from pale blue satin. Diana wet her lips as she stared at the silver between her pinched fingers, and Alex turned it slightly. As if to show her more. As if Diana wasn’t already well aware of what it was.

“You, my sweet,” Alex drawled in velvet, smooth enough to make Diana almost drop to her knees right then and there, “are going to wear this all day for me.” At the flutter of dark lashes over half-lidded eyes, she leaned in closer and lowered her voice even more. “And… you are not allowed to come.”

The sharp inhale told Alex all she needed to know.

When Diana leaned back on one hip and crossed her arms, it did little to hide the effect she had on her. Even with the teasing smile pulling at her lips, the promise of challenge, arousal warmed porcelain cheeks and reduced blue to barely a thin line around blown pupils.

And yet Diana still raised a brow in defiance. “And if I do?”

Alex let out a heavy sigh. “I asked myself that many times. What should I do if you were to once again disobey me?” She tilted her head slightly to the side, clicking her tongue. “Would I procure a chastity belt, of all things? Would I confiscate all of your toys until further notice?” Diana shifted, opening her mouth as if to protest, but Alex only went on. “Would I have you scrub the place top to bottom? But no. None of that would suffice.” She closed her eyes and took a deep inhale, before releasing. “For a whole month, you will not be permitted to touch me. In any form.”

A loud laugh of disbelief left Diana as she threw her head back. Thinking it a joke was her first mistake; Alex’s eyes narrowed and her jaw set, emphasising the sincerity in her claim. That seemed to do it.

Diana lifted one of her crossed arms and scratched above her lip, looking down her nose as she seemed to be processing the severity of such a punishment. Then, she abruptly extended said arm and held out her hand in acceptance, meeting Alex’s gaze once more. “A month is absurd.”

Never one to back down, her Diana.

Alex let a soft smile pull on her lips, not quite an apology for the past harshness of her tone, and she placed the bullet in her partner’s palm. Her lashes fluttered again at the brush of Alex’s fingertips against her soft skin, but she regained herself just as quickly.

“Well then, you should start being more grateful and less greedy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Diana replied while rolling the bullet up to the tips of her fingers.

One hand brought the silver to her lips, while the other parted her towel, and Alex found herself rather conflicted in where to direct her attention. Ultimately, her gaze settled on Diana’s face when the hand at her hip did no more than rest at the opening she created. Wet, rosy lips parted then ever so slowly closed around the toy. She still held onto the end with her fingertips. Alex watched as her cheeks hollowed while her tongue swirled, and she couldn’t prevent the warmth blooming at her hips even if she tried.

Her gaze wandered from her lips to her jaw, then down the elegant column of her throat. A droplet sat in the dip between her collarbones. Countless others littered her chest, but one took Alex’s attention more than the rest. It rolled down damp skin at a tantalisingly slow pace, until its journey was interrupted by the towel at her breast.

The movement of Diana’s arm brought her back to her senses, though she did find herself wishing to lean in and kiss over the peak that bobbed as Diana swallowed. Or lick the droplets from her skin. But all that followed was her lover’s hand lowering to the part in her towel before she slipped the toy easily inside herself.

Their eyes met again, and Alex offered a pleased smile her way. She all but purred, “Good girl.”

Her own hand disappeared into her pocket, and she pulled out a device not too dissimilar to her phone. One of Diana’s brows quirked at that. It wasn’t the typical remote control she was used to seeing in her past, and little did she know Alex had far more freedom with one such as this.

“I’ll be able to monitor your pleasure at all times with this,” she said, barely flashing the screen her way so Diana could take a look while she ensured the toy was connected. Satisfied, a rather wicked curl pulled at the corner of crimson lips. “Do remember, I will know if you’ve taken it out. And that will warrant further consequences.”

Diana gave her a slow nod, long past accepting what was to come, and opened her mouth to speak, but Alex had already turned on her heel, pocketed the device and left the bathroom. She could only laugh to herself at that, the notion that anything she had to say, or do, was all but irrelevant.

Not even a kiss this morning.

It was already past lunch and Diana had been at the edge of her seat all morning, wondering – waiting for – when Alex would turn the vibrator on. The possibility that she had forgotten about it altogether, swept up in her work, or by some new problem one of the researchers had brought to her attention, was entirely out of the question.

Diana knew the only explanation was that Alex wanted this.

She wanted her to sweat a little. To grow restless. To wait for the other shoe to drop and wish to be free of such suspense. That, in itself, was as much a punishment as what was truly in store for her.

And it worked.

For the third time in this report alone, Diana crossed out what she was in the middle of writing. More like violently scribbled over, in this instance; her pent-up frustration pressed the pen harder and carried the strike over innocent sentences, free of mistakes. Whether it was her cadence, a misspelt word, or merely a letter looking wrong, Diana was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her head.

With a heavy sigh, she freed the paper from her clipboard and crumbled it up into a ball, merely discarding it beside herself. It was ridiculous she was letting this get under her skin so much. Maybe she had been too eager for the challenge, holding herself to such high standards in wanting to prove Alex wrong – that she wouldn’t break from a little toy. But she had not accounted for this.

Diana brought a new sheet before her and slotted it into position. All of a sudden, the toy came to life. Her fingers fell free of the clip, letting it snap, and her mouth hung open of its own accord. The slow, rhythmic pulse was actually relieving.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she sank into her chair, pressing her thighs together on instinct. She would get back to their little game in a moment, but for now… For now, she needed to feel it.

It wasn’t one of her wisest decisions. Her mind wandered back to that morning, to the feeling of Alex’s hot breath on her skin when she whispered in her ear; the way she had purred praise sent a shiver down Diana’s spine, tingling across every nerve and stoking the warmth at its base. A hand lifted, found its way to her chest and simply lay there, fingertips either side of her neck, ghosting over the spot her lover had teased.

The pulse between her legs switched to a soft continuous vibration, pulling her back to the present. A slow exhale escaped parted lips.

If she truly wanted to get through this, she had to find some semblance of focus. There were actual stakes this time around. If that lack of a kiss before work was a taste of what she was in for, for an entire month, she might just lose her mind.

They may have spent long stretches of time away from one another in the past, on opposite ends of the globe, but that would be nothing compared to this. To live with Alex, to see her, and smell her, day in, day out, and not be able to do so much as press against her… To have to sleep beside her and stop their legs from brushing, pass her in the bathroom or the kitchen and not catch her hand or lean in for a kiss. That was torture.

She could get through this stupid little test. Or else a pillow wall may have to be built. Even worse, she would sleep on the couch and avoid her partner until one of them cracked.

Deep breaths, Diana. Slow, deep breaths.

It was much easier to try and ignore the toy nestled inside her with this setting. Diana was determined to show Alex that not only could she control herself, but she would excel in her work while at it. The discarded report was rewritten and completed, with not a flaw in sight. Not even the couple of times Alex had switched back to the gentle pulsing could put an end to that. She proofread it, not once, but twice, and analysed her next set of data from another experiment. It was, in all honesty, a rather remarkable motivator. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to keep her composure.

Or so she thought.

Diana swivelled around in her chair to reach for the stack of papers on the bench behind her when the toy doubled in speed, causing her to jolt in her seat. A breathy little chuckle escaped her, a result of such surprise. Then she blew out a long exhale, longing for composure. Warmth bloomed deep within her core, and she had to fight the urge to let her eyes fall shut. Doing so would only sabotage herself, and amuse Alex in the process.

And she really wasn’t about to let that happen. Diana glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room, knowing full well that Alex was watching her every move. She picked up the stack of papers, turned right around, and dumped them on her desk rather unceremoniously.

In direct response, the toy picked up speed again. Her thighs clenched together as she shifted in her seat, and that only made it worse; the bullet pressed right up against that sweet spot within her. No longer a benign teasing, the buzzing was insistent. Relentless. Diana meant to reach for the edge of her desk to steady herself, but shaky hands fumbled and found knees instead. It felt as if someone had lit a fire under her skin, making her flush head to toe. Somehow, she forgot how easily these things could send her into such a state.

She needed to do something, anything, to distract herself from the feeling. Focusing her leaden gaze on her hands, she shifted them slightly higher, settling firmly on her thighs for better leverage. Then she sunk her nails into nylon-clad flesh.

Mistake. That was a mistake.

Sparks shot up her thighs and to her hips, joining the vibrations, and she almost doubled over. What in the world possessed her to do such an idiotic thing? Of course the sting of her nails would only fuel her pleasure, not offer the distracting sensation she’d intended; she was better off stubbing a toe.

Her heart had only quickened, pounding at its cage as if begging her to let the pleasure wash over her. But she wasn’t going to give in. To do so would grant Alex the satisfaction she was looking for. In Diana’s mind, the consequence of her succumbing to her desires wouldn’t benefit Alex in any way either. A whole month without being loved on? What a miserable rule to set for oneself. But Diana knew it was merely a slight against her; she was tactile with lovers, it wasn’t her fault. A hand on a hip when she passed by, on an arm when she spoke. It was the little things Alex knew she could catch her on.

Diana dropped her hands to her sides and let her head fall back against the headrest of her chair. It was time for a different approach. She stared up at the ceiling and tried to focus on counting the number of metal bars making up the ventilation panels. It shouldn’t have been difficult, it was a simple task, yet she lost count and had to start over multiple times; the buzz of the fluorescent lights behind her kept stealing her attention, telling her to pay mind to the one between her legs.

She may have underestimated her capacity for restraint.

As though taking pity on her plight, the toy changed patterns once more. Back to that soft, sweet pulsing. It was so jarring compared to the torment she just endured, Diana couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her face as she buried her head in her hands.

Then the phone started to ring.

Could she not catch even one moment of peace today? Diana raised her head enough to catch sight of the phone on her desk, simply staring at the offending device and watching the light blink as someone tried to reach her. She let it ring.

The pulse between her legs sped up, informing her who was on the line, and she rolled her eyes much too dramatically. Reaching forward at the last possible moment, she lifted the receiver off the hook and brought it to her ear. “This is Diana speaking.”

A low chuckle sounded on the other end, stoking embers. “What’s the matter, darling? You sound quite frustrated.”

“Oh, shut up,” Diana replied indignantly. She secured the handset on her shoulder, holding it with her cheek, and gathered the papers still sitting on her desk. Needing to keep her hands occupied, lest they wander elsewhere with that voice in her ear. “I’m busy. Is there something you wanted?”

Alex sighed, and Diana heard a loud bang from somewhere behind her, followed by an unsteady rattle, like metal-on-metal. A trolley being wheeled off, most likely. Alex cleared her throat once it was almost out of earshot. “You’re needed in the Upper Spire.”

For what possible reason? The highest point of the Monument was still under construction; there was nothing of value up there that would require her assistance. Unless Alex was going to turn around and demand she pick up a toolbox and get to work. They both knew that was never going to happen.

Diana took hold of the phone again, then switched it over to the other ear. “Did I not just tell you that I am in the middle of something?”

“It wasn’t a request,” Alex bit back. Her voice slipped into one that radiated sheer power; it could so easily bring someone to their knees. It had, many times for Diana, as well-acquainted as she was with such a tone in their bedroom. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck bristled with the shiver that coursed through her, all while the toy still pulsed within. “Now, hurry along. You can finish sorting your paperwork later.”

The little mocking remark she threw in there managed to break Diana free of her spell. She thought it only fair to respond in kind. “Yes, ma’am.”

Without waiting for any further comment, she lowered the phone from her ear and moved to hang up. But again, she was stopped in her tracks.

“Diana,” Alex called, beckoning her to crawl right back to her. And she did, bringing the handset up to its former position in a rather lazy fashion. “Watch your tone.”

With not even a second to possibly respond, Diana was met with a click then nothing more. Dead air. It was at times like this she was convinced she had fallen madly in love with the Devil herself. Though she was not without mercy it would seem; the vibrator lowered back down to that soft, persistent hum and brought with it relief.

The journey to the Upper Spire wasn’t necessarily a long one from where she worked – if she discounted the elevator ride, that is. But Diana would still need to brave a rather lengthy flight of stairs. In frustration, she threw her head back against her headrest a couple of times, then abruptly stood. The papers remained on her desk, a filing cabinet drawer was left ajar, only her handbag was forcibly removed and the door locked behind her.

Once she was but a few steps down the hall, the toy sped up again. It wasn’t unbearable, no, but it did challenge her to keep her balance as she walked. One wrong shift of her hips and she might just send the bullet pressing against a spot that would not hold back from making her legs tremble. That didn’t change the fact that she could already feel a bead of sweat threatening to roll down her back. 

Diana let her feet carry her towards her destination, the world around her fading away in a blur of bright lights and dull greys as she passed through winding walkways and platforms, not even registering how many turns she’d made. All her focus was on putting one foot in front of the other and hoping she’d end up where she needed to be. And trying desperately to ignore the constant vibration in her hips.

It felt so much louder now and she wasn’t sure that was possible. The hissing of doors sliding open for her, the humming and beeping of machinery, the clicking of her heels with each stride was all but amplified by the pounding in her ears, resounding from the toy in her core. Was it always this noisy? Every time there was a new sound thrown into the mix, it sent her heart racing, so fast she could feel it in her fingertips. She truly thought walking was going to be much easier to deal with than sitting in her lab, but this was a new type of hell.

Then there was the case of the stairs.

Deep breaths, Diana reminded herself from where she stood on the landing. She could do this. The effort of her journey left her flushed and weary, but not any less determined to reach her goal. The elevator was so close she could see it, sitting in the centre of the open room; her only obstacle was but a flight of stairs.

She reached out and laid a hand on the railing, fumbling as the cool metal sent another shock through her system. Diana clenched her teeth and held it firmer, steadying herself before she could topple over. Then she began her descent.

One step at a time. That’s all there was to it, no different than any other day. She just had to get out of her head, focus on where her feet landed, and not on that dogged assault on her nerves. With another shaky breath, Diana lowered her eyes to make sure she didn’t miss a step with how unsteady she was, how heavy her legs felt with each footfall. The last thing she needed was to slip and make a fool of herself.

If she did fall, she hoped it would bring about a swift end and let her escape this torment.

Halfway down the stairs, a flicker of movement danced at the corner of Diana’s eye. Her gaze darted over to follow the blur over the railing only to see Stuart, Alex’s loyal little servant, rounding the side of the staircase.

Don’t come this way, she pleaded, voiceless, hoping he wouldn’t notice her and simply carry on with his day. The last thing she needed was to speak to anyone in this state.

But Stuart, the ever so irritating Stuart, sporting his finely-tailored suit and rectangular rimless glasses, seemed to be heading right where she had come from. Luckily, he seemed to be in a hurry, taking two steps at a time, so he shouldn’t bother her for long. But she knew him well enough. The man could talk up a storm if you let him. Just keep going.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there,” he exclaimed, followed by a slight bow of his head. The toy ramped up in intensity and stole the breath from Diana’s lungs. To try and stifle a whimper, she bit down on her lip hard enough she thought she might draw blood, and Stuart paused. He let his eyes scan over her, from her face down to her white-knuckled grip on the railing. “Are you alright, Dr. Afa—”

“Fine,” Diana snapped. She wasn’t even able to take a full breath, her words coming out rushed. “I’m fine. Thank you, Stewart.”

She left him standing there, bewildered, as her need to get as far away from him as possible carried her down the rest of the dreadful staircase unharmed. She didn’t know if he’d heard the buzzing of the toy, she hadn’t bothered to take in his expression at all, really. Maybe she was just imagining the vibrator louder than it actually was, or maybe the thrumming of machinery echoing off the endlessly tall walls of the tower saved her an awkward conversation.

The walk to the elevator wasn’t far once she hopped off that final step. The doors opened automatically for her upon her approach and she practically fell into the safe haven of steel.

With a slam of a fist against a button, she was off. Diana let herself sink against the wall, dropping her bag from her shoulder and resting trembling hands on her knees. She couldn’t even get a moment of reprieve; the insistent teasing between her legs wouldn’t subside any time soon.

The way warmth built in her core, radiating across her hips and threatening to rush down her legs to curl her toes, had her biting back a moan. She took slow, deep breaths, trying to focus on calming her heart as opposed to how blissful the waves of pleasure felt. She couldn’t let herself unravel. Not here, not now.

Diana gripped the handrail beside her and turned, resting the side of her head against the wall. The coil in her belly only wound tighter, and she cursed Alex. Cursed her for playing with her like this, for watching her struggle on every camera she passed, for pressing all those stupid little buttons that left her shaking and longing for air. But truly, she cursed herself; she was the only one to blame. Why did she ever agree to this?

She needed to breathe.

With each slow inhale, and exhale, the twist in her belly began to recede, pulling her from the haze. It did nothing, however, for the shake of her hands, the heavy feeling in her limbs, or how aware she was of her blouse brushing against her chest with each rise and fall.

It was the elevator’s turn to catch her cursing. Just as she was about to question how long it was taking to reach the Upper Spire, the lift jerked and shuddered, before coming to a halt.

“Oh, fuck,” Diana whispered under her breath. The rumble that sent through her did nothing to help the state she was in.

She aimlessly reached around for her bag, not wanting to look down in fear she might lose her balance. Finding leather under her palm, she hoisted it up and onto her shoulder. She would be fine. Her hips ached as she lifted herself to stand up straight, using the handrail as leverage. One last rest against the wall, one last moment, then she would be on her way. Then she would face Alex and try not to fall apart at her feet.

Just beyond another walkway, then she could hopefully sit again. Somehow that was much easier to handle.

The clicking of her heels was a welcome sound, distracting her from the heat simmering in her belly. She didn’t dare look over the edge of the railing along the walkway either – another thing she wished to push to the back of her mind; she was so high up, one wrong step and that was the end of her.

A foolish thing to think about given what she was dealing with right now.

After a short walk, the hiss of a door granted her access to the area Alex had been fussing over for months. Wanting to get it perfect, she said.

Odd, considering the large room Diana entered was completely bare. And dark. The only thing she could make out was maybe some type of stand near the far end of the room. Alex hadn’t exactly divulged what she was planning to do up here, other than having her own personal laboratory.

Off to the side, cool white light emanated from an open door. The only clue she had to go on as to Alex’s whereabouts. She ventured forth, then, as another set of stairs came into view, audibly groaned.

After today she might just develop a personal vendetta against staircases.

The stairwell was interesting, to say the least. The overhead light did not offer much in way of brightening the room, but rather, it was the individual strips set into each step, along with the columns in the corners of the room. Not four, as expected, but rather six. What really caught her attention though was the latticework in the centre of the stairs, much like that of the supports surrounding the elevator.

Diana steeled herself and, once again, focused on putting one foot in front of the other, watching her feet the entire way up the two flights of stairs. It wasn’t any easier than her trip to the lift, but she couldn’t allow herself a moment to falter. Even as the toy shifted with each step, the railing remained her lifeline.

Once she reached the landing, the door slid open for her before she even had a chance to catch her breath. This time, revealing a sparsely furnished bedroom. But Diana did not care much to look around; her eyes settled on the source of her anguish. Sitting on a black leather couch was Alex, dressed in white and gold, with wine red at her feet. Her attention was on the wall opposite her, and Diana glanced over to see a large screen, filled with camera feeds. That didn’t surprise her in the slightest.

Alex looked toward the door, and a smirk threatened to pull at the corner of her lips. She stood, turning the monitor off with a remote in the process, before tossing it aside. “Ah, there you are.”

As if a puppet on a string, not quite in control of her own limbs, Diana made her way over to Alex. Whenever she was near, there was a certain pull to her, always drawing Diana in. The need to hold her, to touch her in some way and breathe her in, was a constant. That is why she couldn’t afford to misbehave this time around; the stakes were too high. Or else, she would’ve chased her release just to spite her lover and get a rise.

Her handbag was taken from her by cold, gentle hands, discarded on the coffee table at her side, while Alex’s eyes were busy slowly scanning over her form. She hummed. “Stuart just called. He was quite concerned, honestly. Said you looked rather unwell.”

Diana glared up at her. She wasn’t that much taller than her, and yet she felt larger than life itself. The way she spoke only added to that; there was no denying the smug air that clung to each of her words. She was so proud of herself for humiliating Diana in such a way, making her look a fool in front of her staff when she was only ever composed.

“Yes, well, I wonder why,” she said through clenched teeth.

A melodic little laugh spilled from her partner’s lips and tugged at her heart. “Look at you… So cute when you’re all riled up.”

Diana held her gaze, wanting so desperately to remain annoyed with her. To show her she wasn’t amused with her antics. But her body betrayed her, unable to focus on such trivial things with a more pressing matter between her legs. Lips pulled in a warm smile, one she tried and failed to hide, and the heat in her hips rushed up to her chest.

Alex never took her eyes off of hers, not helping in the slightest. There was so much warmth in those icy blues of hers it almost made Diana dizzy. She had to be the first to look away.

Letting her gaze wander around the clearly unfinished room, she cleared her throat. Well aware of the fact that Alex was still staring at her. “What was it you needed me for?”

“Oh, it’s not ready yet,” she said, sounding almost disinterested, and Diana’s head snapped to look back at her. Alex gestured vaguely at her side with a sigh. “It won’t be for many months yet. I still need all of my equipment brought up here, and well… It is looking rather drab, as you can see.”

“You’re telling me I walked all of those stairs, and took the longest elevator ride of my life, for nothing?!”

“Nothing?” Alex brought a hand to her chest in mock outrage, drawing her brows in a frown. “Did you not wish to see me?”

Of course she wished to see her. She always wished to see her. One of the many side effects of having found your match. But in Diana’s current state, that had been the least of her concerns. It was near impossible to stave off the longing in her core with her so near.

Pent-up frustration trickled over and dripped from every word. “I cannot believe you.”

Diana brought her hands up to cover her face, the tips of her fingers carving along the curve of her brow bone. Her skin was so hot, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was flushed pink up to her ears. The toy sitting pretty inside her hummed away, more of an annoyance than anything at this point. Or maybe she was just annoyed, full stop. But she was so high-strung, she couldn’t deal with these little games anymore.

A shaky breath left parted lips, then a soft tsk reached her ears.

The intoxicating smell of Alex’s perfume swept over her senses before touch even registered. Woody, spiced, rich with amber and musk – a hint of plum lingering. Diana couldn’t help herself but lean into her lover’s touch, to drink in all that flowed from her wrist. Fingertips danced across her temple, causing her hands to fall from her face as she looked up at Alex again. Her head was tilted ever so slightly as her eyes followed the path she traced along Diana’s hairline.

“I’m impressed,” Alex admitted, then tucked a strand behind Diana’s ear. “I thought for certain, in the lift, away from all but my eyes to see, you would”—her fingers trailed down the side of her neck—“take care of yourself.”

Her touch was exhilarating, addicting even, sending a pleasant shiver down Diana’s spine to reignite the pleasure. When her fingers reversed the motion, letting nails scrape along her skin, her legs almost buckled beneath her.

Then Alex cupped her cheek. She leaned in and whispered against Diana’s lips, “You’ve done so well. But can you keep it up?”

Too entranced, Diana had missed when Alex pulled the remote from her pocket with her other hand. A quick tap and the toy sped up even more, knocking the air from her lungs. This had to be the highest setting; there was no way it could get any worse than this. Warmth rushed from deep within her core, over her hips and up into her chest. It was stifling.

There was nowhere she could grasp onto for support now, save for the woman before her. Her hands found Alex’s sides, gripping her blazer before she could even think about what she’d done. But Alex didn’t seem to mind. It was when she hung her head that Alex suddenly gripped her chin, tilting it back with force to look into her eyes.

“Do you think you can last?” She all but purred, her breath hot on parted lips. Diana was well and truly at her mercy now; waves of pleasure rolled over her, pulling her from her surroundings in a lust-addled haze. Yet she still managed to lazily nod in her grip.

Alex hummed then slotted a thigh between trembling legs, causing a soft whimper to spill from Diana’s lips. Though it offered support, it pressed too sweet, too deliciously. She didn’t know how long she could fight off her oncoming climax at this rate.

“Really? The greedy little slut you are…” She applied more pressure with her thigh, drawing a choked sob. “You’re not going to come?”

“No,” Diana said with firmness she didn’t even know she could muster, even if it wavered in the end.

The chuckle that followed barely registered. Her heart was beating so loud she could hear it in her ears, feel it throughout her entire body. It drowned out every other noise. The grin that pulled on crimson lips as Alex gripped her chin even harder sent molten sparks across her skin. The coil in her belly wound impossibly tight, begging for release, and it hurt. Oh, it hurt.

Diana shuddered in her lover’s arms, eyes fluttering shut. The toy continued its relentless pace against that sweet spot within her, a low whine built in her throat. She didn’t know how much longer she could handle of this. She blew out a long exhale, trying to halt her panting, but her breaths only came faster.

Stars began to form behind her eyes, signalling her impending release, and she couldn’t even fight it anymore.

Then it stopped. The buzzing stopped altogether. So abrupt, it drew a loud gasp and she fell against Alex. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, clouding her vision even further, and she had no idea whether she was crying from relief or frustration. She was so close, teetering right on the edge, only to have it ripped away from her.

“Shh,” Alex shushed her, then wrapped her arms around Diana. She carefully lowered her onto the couch, pressed up against her side. Then she smoothed back her hair. “Very good, my sweet girl. Have a rest.”

Diana buried her face in the crook of Alex’s neck, trying desperately to calm her breathing. Despite the toy no longer teasing, the throbbing between her legs persisted. Longing for more.

She had no doubt Alex knew how close she had gotten to failing, to suffering the consequences. But the absence of any scolding let her melt against her partner, wrapping her arm around her waist and taking in that sweet scent of hers once more. If this was the last time she was to hold her for a month, she wished to savour every second of it.

A soft kiss was pressed to the top of her head, yet the words that followed held no semblance of such tenderness.

“Do not think this means you’re forgiven. You still have the rest of the day ahead of you.”

[bloodwr4th]

❗❗❗

send “ ❗❗❗ ” for your muse to suddenly and unexpectedly kiss mine.

he doesn't know if it's reality or a dream anymore. because being with nausi, sometimes, seems to be like a dream. he doesn't know how many times he thought about her, even when she wasn't physically there. he had this machiavellian and sweet, hot woman anchored in him. every part of his body reacted when she touched him. would he let himself be burned for her? oh, yes. he would. would he be one of her lovers who would give everything to see their sweetheart happy and fulfilled? yes, he was that guy too. even if, being mean and shows to the other a completely different side of him, when she looked at him, he couldn't be this mean guy that everyone tried to escape.

sitting on the latter's bed, he couldn't help but tilt his head when he admired her comb her dark hair. he was a sane person at that moment. something he wasn't. usually, he would be behind her, whispering little shushes to watch her break down and then be feral on his own person. but he also liked to play with her head, that's why when his eyes darkened a little more, he couldn't help but think and whisper little sh sh sh, loving to see her fall in his trap. knowing what was going to happen next. especially when she swoon at her knees when he does that with that suave tone of his.

seeing her turn around and rush to him to make him fall on the bed and kiss him without even saying a word took his breath away for a moment, while he grabbed her thigh and pull her closer and sitting her on his lap, smiling against her lips and whispering a little more to make her lose her mind.

" sh, sh, sh….. "

@wickedslip.

[displacedbias]

[Took me a hot second to find you anyways HIIII kindergala time!]

Felix couldn’t help but swear softly under his breath as he maneuvered through the far too bright gala in search for his brother. The blond hadn’t even the slightest clue HOW they winded up separated yet here they were and here he was ALONE.

The pitiful glances and horrified stares from everyone around him, all these strange yet familiar faces, all the judgemental eyes, were so much easier to handle with Teddy there. He felt less like a freak of nature with his brother by his side because at least they could understand eachother. At least they weren’t alone.

Christ if Felix himself was this worked up over it, he couldn’t imagine how Ted was fairing on his own. Was he ok? Did it not bother him? Was-

Felix was pulled from his panicked, derailing thoughts when he winded up bumping right into some blonde in a purple dress, sending them both to the floor with a thud.

“Ow-“

A sigh escaped him as he waited for Ozzy to return from the bathroom. Alice had already headed off by herself fairly early on upon arriving to the gala, and Teddy... Well, it wasn't often that Ted left Felix alone in places like these, knowing that Felix didn't fare well on his own in public functions. Teddy was always more of a social butterfly than Felix was; more sociable, easier to approach, always had more to say than Felix could ever dream of. However, it seemed even his brother had run off elsewhere, perhaps thinking he'd leave Felix to spend time with his date... who wasn't even here, at the present.

He refrained from letting out another sigh, fearing that he'd be seen as rude. That was the last thing he wanted-- more negative opinions on him than he already had at home.

As he busied himself with the tedious task of entertaining himself, it turned out to be the biggest mistake he could have committed when he should have been paying attention instead, apparently. He felt the impact first before he realized anything was happening-- And before he knew it, he was on the ground, sore, with someone else right there on the floor next to him.

Felix blinked once, then instinctively jumped to apologizing for... well, he didn't really know. He was still getting his bearings, still startled from what just happened.

——— " Oh goodness... M-My apologies... " He mumbled, thinking it was probably his fault for being in the way while the older person obviously seemed to be in a hurry. Oh, no, and now Alice's dress was probably dirty... if there even was dirt in the void.

And then he paused fussing over the dress once he actually took a closer look at who'd run into him. He froze. Was that... blood? And spiders? What a... peculiar style for the gala. Felix quickly shook himself out of those thoughts. --No, it was rude to stare, and he didn't want to make this guy feel self-conscious.

——— " Ah... Um... Are you alright...? " Felix decided to ask instead, concerned as he eyed the person who looked somewhat like himself. Aside from the obvious physical differences, of course.

——— " I, um... I didn't mean to get in your way... " He mumbled timidly, apologetically. He quickly scrambled to stand back up, not wanting to wrinkle the dress even more, and as he did, he reached out and offered a hand to help the other blond up.

[diveyne]

short story, 1 of ?

death comes swift for some, and for others never at all. morgana has known from early on that immortality did not mean invulnerability, that she could still be clawed and maimed and pierced and torn by every lethal device fated to rend souls from mortal flesh. so many times had come to pass where she'd thrown herself in front of forces that would have put an end to any ordinary being, but the fates remind her time and time again that she is greater than ordinary, that, perhaps, there lies something further beyond the bleak existence of sempiternity that she is yet to achieve.

morgana tells herself that it's only for revenge and woe-filled vengeance that tethers her to the earth, but deep down she knows it rises above even that, that she exists as a protector of those unable to save themselves, and an adjudicator of the corruption marring the world with its filth and pus and rot and tar. in spite of every modicum of danger she's faced, with all the intention to put herself in harm's way to never see another sunset or the frail kiss of the moon again, she persists. spared by gods greater than herself, perhaps; and perhaps it's another sign that there is more left to her mission, that she exists to bare her soul to mortalkind and be their salvation from the falsities that plague them.

she's lain in the filth of her own drying blood, and felt the impossible weight of the earth's grime coating her vibrant wings, more than enough times to know the infernal weight of the iron empowered by false idols and pedestals built upon silk spun half-truths and bitter lies that feel like rapture upon skin that did not know the joys of true paradise. morgana has seen the chains that bind her people, so similar to the very coils of iron that rattle upon her steel-cut feathers that, no matter how hard she tried, would not part from her back.

and so, she has learned to use her wings as shields where the barriers erected by magicks failed. from the shadows she has learned to bless the souls willing to turn their hearts to her and open themselves to the salve of her boons. be that as it may, her gifts are not pieces she parts with freely, or lightly.

for the millennia she has been alive, morgana has witnessed far too many good souls succumb to the weight of power far greater than their minds could possibly comprehend. growing power-hungry, they try to rise above their stations far too quickly with a desperation matched only by that of a mortal who lay in the threshold between shadow and death. great power corrupts, making it a burden not many are equipped to bear.

she's seen the corruption unfold firsthand in her own sister's eyes. they'd been warm, once, vibrant and nurturing as the glow of the sun, always matched by the brightness of her smile. but over time, as the twins grew into the gifts of their ascension, morgana watched kayle's warmth fade into the pale swells of cold, frost-tipped zealotry. kayle spoke of law but held herself above it, seeing the world and its people only in black and white, in the balancing scale of the never-ending war between good and evil. morgana had always known that things were not so simple, that mortals were complex and their conflicts nuanced. demacia suffered under kayle's hand and her reigning influence, and a thousand years later, the suffering remains a permanent fixture in its history as its mages were forced to live in hiding or stare listlessly at the hardened lines and thin cracks in petricite cells.

morgana's lips press together as she peers into gently rippling water of the cavern's wide pool. her legacy has long since faded beyond into that of legend, now no more than a forgotten relic of history buried beneath layers of dirt in a tomb laid to waste. there were so few believers compared to the masses of centuries prior, and so rarely did even a whisper of a prayer harken to her. those who remained weren't even sure if she was more than a myth. it's silly, she'd hear them say. the gods aren't real. no god is real. if the gods were listening, would they allow us to suffer as they have?

the unfortunate truth is . . . the gods are listening, they always are, but so many believe themselves to be far above mortal conflict, even if it is of their own making. morgana feels partially responsible for demacian mages having to fall into the shadows of their own selves, and for the fact that they needed to rebel against their own society at all. she's told herself that she isn't kayle's keeper, and yet she has spent so much of her life trying to clean up after her twin's messes and heal the earth she sent to fester and rot.

one thousand years. one thousand years of this disagreement, kayle's inability to see reason, to see beyond the blinding light that she has fooled herself into believing is the unburdened gleam of justice. kayle has always been righteous, enough to be beyond salvation from her own delusions of grandeur and unthinkable bounds of cruelty, and extreme beyond measure. after a thousand years, morgana has lost any hope of being able to reach her sister.

morgana hasn't seen kayle, not since the day her sister turned her back to her. she has heard countless stories, many by the mouths of demacians far too young to know the truth of their own history; she has watched as the city grew into a mighty nation, built on the steels of knighthood and the masonry that drained the magicks from mages trapped behind cages, all because of her sister's influence to its laws.

morgana claws at the water's surface, shattering her reflection into a riot of churning bubbles and waves. her existence is a lonely one, a tragedy seemingly beyond compare. although her mother is still alive, for all it was worth, she might as well be dead for as little of a mother she had been, when the girls lived upon mount targon amongst the aspects. kayle still lives, too, but morgana has long since accepted that the sister she once knew had died all those years ago, long before their father had fallen victim to the vicious battle they had fought.

she has seen so many bitter wars, watched as the blood stained the soil so deeply that its color never faded and as nature formed around the wounds cutting into the earth, and listened to the once-cacophonous roar of never-ending prayers begging to be saved, or taken from their misery. a prayer slips through every now and then, and the shimmering mirage would eventually reveal itself upon the surface of morgana's pond. it's rarer these days, and even then, there isn't much that she can do. although morgana has a strength of her own, and has not weakened since the day her powers came to flood her veins, there is something to be said of the gift of belief and its ability to enhance her strength with a different kind of vitality.

some mages seem to think that she is the answer to all their prayers, but some part of morgana believes that she'll find her own salvation in the heart of their prayers, too.

one day, she hopes that there will be someone worthy of her gifts, someone she can entrust a shard of her power into. though it will not last forever, it would be enough to make an earth-shattering difference — at least, amongst humans, and perhaps only in the moment.

there is a small part of her that misses demacian sunlight with an unbearable ache that throbs deep in the pit of her chest. she's traveled across runeterra, and she has fallen in love with the world around, but there is something about what's unattainable to her that has an undeniable and immeasurable lull. there's a touch of wistful heartache in it, too. demacia is where she had grown up, and it's a place she had part in building with her own hands. there are streets that she had once known like the back of her hands, and she wonders how much the inner city had changed since she was a girl, long before the indomitable, unyielding petricite walls had risen around the kingdom. she thinks of the streets where her father had taken her to buy her first sets of tomes, the tailors and cobblers whose shops had filled her with endless fond memories of humble linens and fine leathers before the songs of legend hoisted the twins into rising fame.

her hands brush the water again, softer this time, a sweet apology for her flash of temper. she doesn't have a clue how or when, but there will come a day where she and her sister will meet once again. it is as inevitable as a sunrise and sunset, as the moon pulls the waters' tides at sea, as the wind is to roam across the burdened paths of the realm.

morgana knows that there is but one way that this all ends.