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Cool breath on your lips and a cool tongue parting them. Cold, but the comfort of it; the relief of cool night air after turning away from the campfire, shade from the sun. And teeth—not fangs, just teeth gently nipping your lip and the vibrations of the man’s moan rattling your brain in your skull, stuttering your heartbeat, until your lungs are too small for all the air you need, pierced by breaking ribs.
Shredded skin, no matter how gently he touches you, shredded skin, caught on a lamb’s wool coat.
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Ever the pragmatist, he agrees to you feeding off people you’re already going to kill—but then he goes a step further and offers himself during dry spells. At this point, the scales are so slanted they’re almost vertical.
“Oh, I doubt there will be many,” you say, waving it off, “considering our luck.”
He shrugs, picking at his palm.
“Offer’s there,” he says. “I don’t care. Just let me know.”
“Well… ” You glance down at his hands, always such a thing with him. “How very generous.”
When you bit him, as he lay beneath you, his fingers brushed against your wrist but never took hold. Those restless hands, wrapped in bloodied bandages, still healing from his stint as a gravedigger. And they always will be, as long as he keeps tearing them back open.
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roots by evictionaries for stregoneria
Fandoms: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
21 Apr 2023
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Honest
PlayfulThe cot creaks when Robin pulls his knees closer to his chest. He taps his pen against the edge of his journal, gaze travelling idly over his tent. His rucksack, his books—some kind of snakeskin charm Tharja says is for protection.
Glass cannon, he scribbles, powerful—with back-up, unstoppable
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At some point Sakuya collapsed onto Taichi’s shoulder, face buried in the crook of his neck, in the smell of him, both hands bunched in fistfuls of his shirt. When he turns his head, his reflection in the courtyard door stares back. More than a year together and seeing himself like this still almost gets him blushing. He looks away, toward the kitchen. Flour canisters and racks hanging with ladles and cheese graters. Normal things. Domestic things. Machines he barely knows how to use, books of recipes he can’t make. In a way, it’s just as bad.
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Misreading this could have worse consequences than bailing on the party. But surely anyone else would have just let Itaru leave, deleted his number and let the evening become nothing but a funny story.
“Let me repay you,” Itaru says. Safe and simple. “You saved me and all I did was interrupt your drink.”
Babyface scratches his head, peeking up from underneath his bangs, and in that moment he is someone else. Someone that knows. Itaru recognizing his secret means he recognizes Itaru’s. But Itaru knows his. An infinite back-and-forth that weaves a spider’s web and Itaru, that shy gaze, he’s caught. He’s caught.
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More and more lately, Banri finds himself looking only down. After the third time tripping over another big sharpie-scrawled cardboard box, a dusty stack of old picture frames, you start to watch your feet. Unlike out here, the junk in the dorms gets more organized by the day. Every morning he wakes up there’s less of it. A life, all neatly packed away.
You know how it is. They always say they’ll call, they’ll write, but you don’t want them to. You want them to fucking stay.
Bookmarked by evictionaries
21 Aug 2023
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The birthright of a dynasty of sorcerers.
Bookmarked by evictionaries
02 May 2023
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The lot of them are thoroughly enraptured by their lively bard's storytelling. The Warrior of Light, though—her lips roll in, twitching. All the laughter she’s holding back. All the truths she could tell to steal Thancred's lamplight, but she won’t. She likes him like this.
As does Estinien.Bookmarked by evictionaries
02 Apr 2023
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Seeing a stranger, who looks exactly like you, is a coincidence. Seeing him twice is a pattern. Seeing him three times sends Tasuku into a spiral, and puts everything at stake.
Bookmarked by evictionaries
23 Jul 2021