drabbles will range from gen to nsfw; please keep this in mind. however, nsfw fics will be clearly marked as such.
( continue )
title: sharp teeth, treasure
Riku admits to himself that he likes it when Sora’s got his fingers tangled up in his hair, slamming him down into the dry white dust with a cocky grin slashed across his face. Riku likes it when Sora has him against a wall, blade brushing his jaw, eyelids low and lips pulled up, smirk-smirk. In the baking bright heat of the midday sun, in the summer with the cicadas humming, Sora pushes Riku up against trees, onto the ground, puts his fingers in his mouth. Sora’s lithe tight body, his hard thighs around Riku’s abdomen, holding him still. Smiling all the while, as the hot sweat trickles from the short hair at the nape of his neck down to his shoulders, his jacket off and tied around a post somewhere so Riku can see the carved light muscle. One time, Sora bit, right on Riku’s shoulder as he pushed him down down down, and it left a splotchy red bruise, a secret treasure. Keyblades dug into the dirt as Sora pins him the millionth time today, face so low and so close. Blinking bright and playful.
title: impossible, too short
pairing: (onesided) akuroku
Axel’s touching himself thinking about Roxas again. It’s more out of desperation and sadness this time, physical pleasure to drown out the mental pain, the emotional pain, the pain becoming physical and sinking deep into his hollow heavy bones. Sprawled out on the bed with his ass in the air, naked— vulnerable. He’s thinking about Roxas seeing him like this, vulnerable, vulnerable, vulnerable, and still trusting him. Impossible and therefore arousing. A hitched breath, and he thinks of Roxas saying, “I love you!" and meaning it, the kind of forbidden shit that gets him off so good. His eyebrows turn up. Thinks of Roxas holding his hand, thinks of Roxas kissing his cheek. If he ever does this with Roxas, he’ll ask him to lie and say that— “I love you", he means. But he won’t ever do this with Roxas, because Roxas is gone and never cared for him this way anyway.
He thinks of Roxas with his legs swinging off the edge of the clock tower, glancing at him and then looking away quickly, face red. And for some reason— that human ritual, the one where you slide a ring onto the other’s finger and make promises— that’s what finishes Axel off, gasping first, then hissing (vulnerable, embarrassing even) through the orgasm. He sinks down from his posture on his knees until his belly’s flat against the bed, breathing deeply. Turns his head down into the mattress, sheets soaking up the sweat. He feels full and empty at the same time, and he wants to eat. Nobodies do not cry.