#again my taste is immaculate no further questions

[spooksier]

GET HIS ASS

(shirt avalible here!!)

#art zone #fanart #tma #jonathan sims #mike crew #annabelle cane #daisy tonner #helen distortion #jane prentiss #oliver banks #nikola orsinov #jude perry #body horror cw #these queers again <3 #again my taste is immaculate no further questions #art zone plus

[banisheed]

TIMING: Sometime in August LOCATION: Siobhan’s house PARTIES: Siobhan (@banisheed) & Xóchitl (@vanishingreyes) CONTENT: child death tw, discussions of grief SUMMARY: After some adult fun, a storm prevents Xóchitl from making a tasteful moonlight escape. A conversation is struck and the two discover that they share the same grim secret. - title song

Thunder rumbled with petulance; a booming sound across the horizon. Siobhan scoffed, she felt it was more like a toddler throwing a tantrum than a mighty, enviable force of nature. Moments ago, when she had been enthralled by the body of a (sadly) human but (not sadly)  beautiful woman, there hadn’t even been a drop of water in the air. Now that they were thoroughly and happily done, the clouds wept in thick and heavy pellets of rain. She thought it was hailing until she saw the droplets hit her window. The storm had taken out her electricity, not that her house had been filled with much light before; she believed that her motivations were obvious enough when she insisted her clothing remain on when they had their fun. Sex was something she didn’t shy away from, but nudity bore too many questions about her the scars that adorned her body like a blind attempt at cross hatching—to maintain a glamor for that long was exhausting and, mostly, boring.

“If you leave, you’re likely to get stuck on the road,” Siobhan commented, lighting the last of the candles that lined the kitchen table. She didn’t care if Xóchitl stayed or left or died or lived--to her, the statement was a matter of fact. Logic would say that she ought to stay put. With each roar of thunder, Greg (or George or John or Jefrrey or whatever the damned dog’s name was) stuck himself further between Xóchitl’s legs, trying to shelter himself with the stranger’s body. Emotion would say that she’d break the poor dog’s heart if she unlocked the door. Siobhan flicked her wrist, blowing away the fire of her match. 

The large window that framed the table provided an unapologetic look at the weather. The thick rain had smashed her flowers into blobs of green and her immaculate grass could soon classify as a swamp. Over the line of trees, lightning sparked through gray clouds and connected with a worrying closeness. With each strike, the interior of her home lit up, revealing every stolen knick-knack, knife, bone and dog toy for just a few seconds before her life was shrouded in mystery again. Siobhan took a seat on the banquette, watching the rain and lighting. “I won’t ask you to stay but…” Another flash of lighting, followed quickly by the eruption of thunder. 

Xóchitl would have claimed that she wasn’t the sort to jump into bed with strangers on a whim. However, despite how much she was fine with lying, even she couldn’t say that that was anything other than true. This time, she felt rather proud of herself, given that the stranger this time was even more beautiful than most. She hadn’t understood why the woman had wanted to keep her shirt on, but Xóchitl herself wasn’t shy about her looks, and Siobhan had seemed to appreciate them well enough. More than well enough, if she was honest.

Except now there was a thunderstorm and while Xóchitl wasn’t terrified of them, but she certainly wasn’t the biggest fan of them either. Not of the way that they made her feel small, childlike, and insignificant. She’d spent so long trying to not feel childlike and small, and so any reminders – especially those that were out of her control. “That’s true.” She grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head. Siobhan’s dog had found himself pressed close against her body, and she scratched his fur, whispering that it was going to be okay – because having someone – something else – to watch over made things easier.

She flinched at the next crack of thunder. Lowered herself to the floor and wrapped her arms around the dog. “I’d like to stay.” Xóchitl looked up at Siobhan. “You can pick whether or not my clothes stay on, but I think staying, at least for the time being’s probably a good idea.”

Siobhan didn’t mean to smile; it didn’t matter to her what some human did. It must have been the joy of being correct; in suggesting something and having it be obeyed. Yes, that must have been it. Xóchitl was just being a good human and of course displays of humans understanding their place would delight her. She felt nothing more about it. “Will you sit with me then?” She asked, gesturing to the kitchen table. If Xóchitl chose the seat opposite her or the one beside her, it didn’t matter. The dog was ready to follow the stranger wherever she went. 

Siobhan snorted, watching her candles flicker. “I think I’ve done enough telling you where your clothes ought to go; do whatever is comfortable, I don’t think this storm is going to end soon.” As if to prove her point, another spark of lightning illuminated her house followed by a vicious rumble of thunder. She did, however, note the way her companion flinched. “Are you scared of storms?” Siobhan asked, watching her dog try to affix himself to Xóchitl’s legs. “I’ve always thought they were rather therapeutic; watching nature run its course always is for me.” 

“I will,” she adjusted her posture, something about the other woman making her want to put on her best self. Which, admittedly, was something Xóchitl tried to do on a daily basis, but there was something here, now, with her disheveled hair and shirt, curled up on a chair, that made her want to try even harder. She sat opposite her companion for now, though there was a possible likelihood that this would change, later. 

“I’ll keep them on for now, but maybe I’ll change it up later.” She ran her fingers through the dog's fur again. “Not afraid, no. Just not always a fan. It’s sort of fascinating,” and not in a good way, Xóchitl added silently, “the way that it reminds me of how small I am, how there’s so much more in the world, and how, in the end, I’m just insignificant.” At Siobhan’s next remark, she nodded. “Nature’s an incredibly powerful thing – I think I appreciate the way that you find them therapeutic. It gives me a new and nice sort of perspective on the whole deal.”

Greg situated himself near Xóchitl, head resting on her lap. Siobhan, sitting opposite, chewed on her visitor’s words. “You are insignificant,” she said, watching candle light dance across Xóchitl’s face. It was true that she was just one human out of eight billion; a number so large that even Siobhan’s brain couldn’t fully comprehend the scope of it. Yet, in the scheme of life, even eight billion wasn’t much; there were billions of birds, trillions of fish, quintillions of insects. Xóchitl might live to eighty and Siobhan to seven-hundred and both of them, just a drop in the lifespan of the Earth, which was a blip in the timeline of the universe. Humans were insignificant. Everything was insignificant. Siobhan gestured to her dog. “He doesn’t realize that he’s one dog out of a million dogs. He doesn’t know why a storm happens, just that he doesn’t like it. He is as insignificant as they come and yet…” The dog was content now, soothed by the pressure of Xóchitl’s hands and the warmth of her legs. “If it’s a condition of all creatures to be insignificant, where does our value lie?” She asked quietly as thunder rumbled beyond. And though the logic made sense to Siobhan, the question came suddenly: “Have you ever watched someone die, Xóchitl?” 

Every other possible thought left her mind at Siobhan’s question. Xóchitl was practically positive she was going to be sick. Except that Siobhan couldn’t know, could she? As much as Mackenzie’s name had been in the papers, eventually, Xóchitl’s never had – being underage and all that. She shook her head, trying to readjust her focus onto anything other than Mackenzie’s body, lying there. The stupid stupid bubblegum stuck to her hair. She’d hadn’t had bubblegum since.

“Why?” She did her best to ask the question with as little bite to it as possible, but there was, undoubtedly, a hint of it. “This isn’t the usual post-relations conversations I have.” As if to emphasize her point, another crack of lightning and a rumble of thunder echoed throughout the house just then. “Also, the dog’s not insignificant.” Xóchitl glanced down at him, “sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” 

Human emotions weren’t new to Siobhan, she had spent forty years living in their muck and several more simply observing them. When the question spurred a bout of emotion from Xóchitl, Siobhan took it to mean that she was correct. It didn’t seem like confusion or discomfort; it felt almost like apprehension. But what did Siobhan know, anyway. Humans never seemed to like what she said. It could have been the state of her that repulsed Xóchitl; she didn’t care. She’d never see this human again, there was no reason to fret over politeness— as if she ever did. “I was trying to prove a point,” she smiled softly. The point was that all creatures felt significant in the face of Death, in the understanding of Death and its finality, but her goal had shifted. The dog, however, was insignificant, though Siobhan guessed that saying so would earn her the bite of a lie. She didn’t feel like dissecting her emotions on the matter, not when Xóchitl’s laid before her like a fresh cadaver. “If you call that snapping, I’m curious what you think being enraged is like.” She smiled. Lighting sparked again. “And I am not a usual sort of woman.” Thunder followed. 

“That person who died, they felt very significant in that moment, didn’t they? And you, then, didn’t you feel horribly insignificant?” Siobhan lifted two fingers up. “I like to think of the world in pairs; one thing always overshadows the other. Nothing is ever meant to be balanced— nature doesn’t allow for it. You watch the vicious lightning and then the terrible thunder comes rolling in afterwards like a drunk stumbling out of a bar; light and sound don’t move together. Someone dies and you live; you can assume the rest of my metaphor here. Grief doesn’t align.” Siobhan paused. “Who was it?” 

“I mean, that’s a light version of snapping,” Xóchitl raised an eyebrow, “don’t worry, I’m well aware of what actual rage can look like.” Circling back to Siobhan’s earlier comments, she offered another shrug. “I respect you for trying to prove a point.” Even if she might’ve wished that Siobhan hadn’t chosen the whole death thing to prove it. But maybe that was just who she was, and maybe she shouldn’t fault her for it. Still, what had been said was done, and she looked at Siobhan with a raised eyebrow.

“It did - feel significant, I mean. I mean, compared to her I always felt insignificant, but in the best way – she was just radiant.” Xóchitl sighed, “you do have a way with words, you know. But – I –” her words caught in her throat – which was, if she were honest, horribly clichéd but also not something she could help. No matter how much she’d trained herself, how much she’d both progressed in reality and in her own beliefs. “My best friend.” She looked over to the sky, another crack of lightning brightening the whole sky. “When we were children.”

“How young?” The question left Siobhan’s lips before she fully understood what was being said by either of them. Her mind flickered with hazy memories of her own childhood. What color of hair did Jane have? Siobhan could only remember it as red, the way it had been in the end. The color of her eyes might as well have been the same pale as her eyelids. Her fingers traced the sharp edge of her table. Greg was snoring, the sound was gentle against the backdrop of rain and thunder. With each roar now, he didn’t stir. “I was eight,” she said softly, half-hoping the sound of her voice would be lost. “Her name was Jane.” She must have liked her a lot to scream but she couldn’t remember much about her. There were the distorted remains of a certain sort of young girl’s laugh, bright and loud; her face turned up to the sky. Siobhan laughed the same; had that always belonged to Jane? “Her throat was slit.” 

The thunder outside reminded her of just why she hadn’t left, and yet there was a significant part of her that wished she had. Then she wouldn’t be having to discuss Mackenzie’s death all over again. Xóchitl supposed that she could have just refused to answer, but it was too late at this point. “I was eight too. Her name was Mackenzie. She… collapsed on a playground.” Xóchitl was fairly positive she was going to be sick. “I’m sorry for - about your friend.” She remembered too much, still. She wasn’t supposed to, not over twenty years later. Remembered the smell of bubble gum, of how happy they’d been until Mackenzie stopped calling out to her and was then laying there, with rocks on her. It wasn’t the same, but Xóchitl had run out of class in high school when they’d read The Lottery. Panicked and said something about – well, that she didn’t remember – but when they got to the part about stones she zoned out and the next thing she knew, she was sitting by her locker, beads of sweat around her hairline.

“I – I blamed myself, I think.” Xóchitl shifted uncomfortably. “Blame myself. Still… do. She was light and just – we had plans. It’s stupid, but even when we were eight, we had plans. I still – she’s –” a shaking of her head. “Being back here’s just… a lot, I think. It’s weird to go by places I knew with her, and yet which feel completely unfamiliar now.”

The candles flickered; hot wax slipped down like fresh tears, leaving white pools on Siobhan’s table. Time had stretched for Siobhan, what had once felt like the worst thing that ever happened to her morphed into the best; she didn’t remember the moment well or maybe she didn’t want to--to confront herself with questions was a betrayal of her peace. She had made it and foolish sentimentality wasn’t going to rip its roots up. Siobhan swallowed. “I’m sorry about your friend,” she said calmly, tracing the edge of her table again until her finger met a grain of wood bent out of place. She kneaded the flesh of her finger into it. “Losses are meant to be collected, I think. This one is large; haunting. I’ve always found grief to be a beautiful emotion. The mind returns to it, the body persists despite it. The world is cruel about it; how terrible it is to keep turning, keep moving.” Another crack of thunder. “How terrible it is that you’re sat at a table with a stranger meant to dig up the memory of Mackenzie.” 

Siobhan stood up, resting her hand on the table as she stared at the woodgrain. “I’m going to make you tea,” she announced, looking up at her company. “Maybe by the time you finish it, you’ll blame yourself a little less.” She paused. “There are always plans, aren’t there?” She stood across the room and into the adjoining kitchen, she could still see Xóchitl just as she could see her--there was no wall keeping them apart--and they could still talk but Siobhan hoped the distance would help dispel the grief that had risen into the air, heavy with its unspoken words. “What kind of tea do you have? Don’t answer that; I only have one kind.” Siobhan filled her kettle with water, setting it on the stove. She lit a long match, bringing it to the lip of the burner before she flicked the gas on. When fire consumed the burner in a tidy ring, she extinguished the match and considered that she was being very strangely hospitable. Well, she’d never see Xóchitl again, anyway. 

“I’ve never heard anybody put it like that. Put it in such a beautiful way.” Because it was, even if it was about something Xóchitl made every effort to not ever think about. “I don’t mind sitting here with you.” She didn’t, honestly, there was some twisted part of her that liked saying what had happened. She wasn’t about to open up to everyone, but it was something, and Siobhan seemed to take the admission with grace. There was a certain kinship between the two of them, having lost people important to them when they were only eight. How likely was it to come across someone who’d experienced loss at the exact same age?

Xóchitl felt very young, and very out of her depth then, when Siobhan offered her tea. It was so kind – so unexpected, so gentle. Xóchitl hadn’t taken Siobhan for someone with a wholly delicate soul; this wasn’t something she faulted at all, it only caused her to be taken slightly aback by everything. “Maybe.” As if one cup of tea could erase twenty-one years of guilt. Her grief was an adult, now. How weird was that? “There’s always plans. I — part of why I want to be successful, I think, is because of her. Because of all she would’ve become, if she hadn’t been taken.” She offered the woman a small smile at the tea comment. “No worries, I’m hardly picky.” Her gaze shot to the flame, then back up to Siobhan. “You’ll have a cup with me too, won’t you?”

“So, she‘s your ghost then?” Siobhan called out. “You carry her in your bones and your life and that’s how she follows you around?” Her kettle whistled, a shrill and jarring sound against the soft lilt of her voice and the rhythmic rumble of distant thunder. She shut the gas off quickly and poured two cups—as Xóchitl suggested. The tea that went in was an Irish breakfast tea, a blend that reminded her of the better parts of home: tea with her mother, mornings with her family full of late-risers and those that would shame them for their languid nature. It was a tea stronger than the nights permitted and she found herself hoping that Xóchitl wouldn’t mind. When she arrived at the table, she placed one steaming mug in front of her Xóchitl and another in front of herself, with a small jar of honey and another of white sugar cubes. There was even a plate of cookies, all brought over on a tray. She was being too hospitable—well, it wasn’t like she had company over regularly anyway. There was nothing to it; nothing meant by it. It was all habits and manners. She thought about bringing some milk, then remembered her fridge was out, then thought it was crossing a line into caring too much. 

“She also could have been horribly unsuccessful,” Siobhan said, taking a slow sip of her tea. “I might sound like I’m speaking ill of the dead but they are just that—full of so much potential, good or bad. People say the tragedy is in what greatness could have been achieved but I don’t agree. Life has its value even when it’s not efficient.” It all sounded very kind, Siobhan realized, but she had no intentions for kindness. Her thoughts were just thoughts; loose ideas swirling around in the chaos of her head. When she spoke, she plucked whichever one suited her and blurted it. “Even you, Xóchitl, have value not due to your career success.” She took another slow sip. “Are you feeling less guilty yet?” 

“That’s…” Xóchitl wanted to refute that statement, but it had been put so eloquently, so perfectly – entirely encapsulating how she felt about everything. Which was a whole lot to say about a couple of sentences, but if it was true, then it was true. She kept her gaze soft on Siobhan, finding all of this oddly calming. Not something she was used to (though she liked to think that she got people to do things for her that might have been out of the ordinary, sitting and talking about her dead best friend over a cup of tea wasn’t exactly usually on that list), but something she found herself enjoying, and hoping that Siobhan was enjoying as well.

Xóchitl shrugged. “You’re right, she could’ve been.” She took a sip of her own tea, grinning at its taste, at its warmth. “No, I understand this. It’s all a jumbled mess of everything, and we just make it into what we want rather than what the truth might be.” Another sip of the tea, and another nod followed Siobhan’s next remarks. “You have your value as well – not sure if that needs my saying, but it’s true. Mmm. Not sure if I feel less guilty, but I do feel lighter, if that’s anything? Also it’s nothing against you, the tea’s perfect and your words are wise, I’m just not sure if my guilt’ll just lessen like that,” she snapped her fingers, glancing down at the dog to make sure she hadn’t disturbed him. “You – she’s buried in town. Which I might’ve said and is probably obvious, but…” her voice trailed off again. “Just felt like I should make sure you knew.”

Something inside of Siobhan pulled taut, as if Xóchitl had dug her hands into her flesh, snatched up an artery and tugged. You have your value as well, the words coiled around her, squeezing her throat. She had other words too, words of her own. ‘You’re a human, you don’t know anything of value’ and ‘Shut up, get out’ and especially ‘this means nothing to me’ over and over, so loud in her head that it overwrote the pulse in her ears, leaving nothing but the monotone assertion that the human in front of her wasn’t any different from her dog, or a plant. Lightning flashed through the house and with the accompanying crack of thunder, she forgot what she’d been thinking about. “Thank you,” she said, because she wasn’t sure what else could be said about learning where someone was buried; it felt like a secret, even though she guessed that it wasn’t one. Siobhan didn’t know where Jane was buried, if she’d been buried at all. More questions drummed in the back of her mind, but her lips remained pressed together; the silence that expanded between them was comfortable and when she did speak, she didn’t remember what it was about and when Xóchitl replied, she didn’t remember what she’d said either. 

When the sun streamed through parting gray clouds and the rain existed only as puddles and the occasional plop of water falling off her roof, their conversation continued. 

Xóchitl didn’t move and Siobhan didn’t ask her to. 

#child death tw #writing #s1 #c: xóchitl #bigger than the whole sky #// i love emily sm

[thesinglesjukebox]

CHRIS STAPLETON - "WHITE HORSE"

Sounds like "horny songs for heterosexual American couples" are having their moment! Here's the second one this week.

[5.67]

Thomas Inskeep: Far too many of Stapleton's singles have been too sleepy for my taste, slow-burning to the point of becoming self-extinguishing fires. But on "White Horse" he sounds antsy and uh-uh-urgent, like he means it, maaaaan. This is what I've always wanted from Stapleton; there's never been a question of his prowess as either a songwriter or a singer, but "White Horse" has a hard country-rock energy to it, and just (sorry) burns. His best single in eons. [8]

Nortey Dowuona: Chris has a bellow of a voice. If you randomly hand a mic to him standing up, he can turn the joint out. It's a rarity in the world of high-profile country to have bellowers such as Stapleton who can be gentle and wistful as quickly as they can be passionate and gnarled, but it's a welcome time to have him. The problem with this Grammy-winning song is that he is too stuck on that bellow, stretching it so far he can't take it in another direction once he hits the high notes in the chorus. You feel him strain in the last one: keening and screaming, but not yet breaking through. The guitar licks during the intro feel gentle and wispy, like dandelions for him to trample upon. But the guitar riff -- that chugs below his voice before the drums during the first verse, echoes behind him during the post-chorus, then kicks in at the outro -- is so powerful. He has to raise his voice higher and louder to not be stopped before he can gallop further. So when he really wails at the last one and growls the title at each post-chorus, it never truly kicks you in the chest the way it should. And the lyrics -- written alongside Dan Wilson, co-writer/producer of "Someone Like You" -- aren't distinct or heart-rending enough. You feel the guilt, fear, and despair in Chris's voice, but that's a given -- the lyrics don't grip onto you, and you slip off Stapleton's strong back. The words "If that's the kind of love you want to wait for / Hold on tight, girl, I ain't there yet" should hit you in the heart, but they feel noncommital, a half-assed explanation that doesn't feel as deep as the howl says it is. It feels like he's chosen to ride up to another woman's fence post with the white stallion she asked for, beard trimmed but not cut, his saddle built for two. Maybe he already has chosen a white horse -- let him ride off on his American saddlebred. He needs to feed the American cream draft bridled to Morgane's fence. [8]

Katherine St. Asaph: The song is solid. Really, it is. Couldn't have been sung better. But the first few seconds, up until the second line, had me primed for something like Mazzy Star doing Liz Fraser's "This Love," slow-burning and immaculate. When the Southern-rock machismo arrives I still just want that. [4]

John S. Quinn-Puerta: I know Stapleton can build a song from the ground up, but the foundation feels half-formed here. There's an emptiness to the bombast, a missing element that makes the structure feel closer to an empty freshman dorm than a lovingly decorated living space. Maybe a bridge would help, but I'm still left thinking, "Is that it?" [5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: The intro is promising: all moody buildup and slamming drums before Stapleton pares it back down again. Strangely, he betrays all sense of dynamics for loud guitar and louder shouting. That damn snare drum feels so out of place, just cutting through the noise in the name of something epic. Where’s the nuance of a John Wayne performance? [3]

Alfred Soto: Do I hear "Wanted Dead or Alive" in that ersatz spooky acoustic intro? I do. Then Chris Stapleton's brontosaurus vocals stomp all over the thing with greater force than the damn drums. To look for subtlety in a Stapleton performance is like asking Nicolas Cage for restraint, but would this palooka have a hair of Cage's gonzo spirit. [3]

Taylor Alatorre: The more Chris Stapleton seems content to be known simply as "that guy with the voice," the less interested I become. And it feels especially like overkill to hear that burly titan of a voice going to town on what is essentially a late '90s alt-rock track. Like bagging a squirrel with a shotgun slug, he belts out his lonesome troubadour bromides over a slightly hardened echo of Fastball's All the Pain Money Can Buy, while the steady hand of Dan Wilson waits in the wings, ready to fence in any wilder impulses that may still be around somewhere. If Stapleton wants to inhabit the middle of the road more permanently, he should own up to that desire instead of trying to convince us he's still riding along its untamed fringes. [5]

Jacob Satter: Stapleton's near-strangulated sense of urgency wants to goad this country rock potboiler to higher stakes, but the climb feels bathetic and top-heavy. Where's the levels and the drama?  Where's the variety? Good lord, where's the bass? Grammy win notwithstanding, I daresay you can put "White Horse" side-by-side with a similarly structured but more ambitious shitkicker of a tune (say, Ashley McBryde's lesser-heard "Blackout Betty") and prove it hardly outstanding in its field. [5]

Ian Mathers: I am absolutely not used to singers following up florid descriptions of the kind of love the Other wants with "Hold on tight, girl, I ain't there yet." And I am always a sucker for songs that nail specific emotions or moments that feel underserved in the broader corpus of song. It helps (for me) that this is definitely country rock and not whatever they're calling what Morgan Wallen plays. The sound is a little generic but the lyrics are specific enough to make up for it. [7]

Michael Hong: Stapleton only promises "not yet" on "White Horse," never revealing how much he's putting in. The parts where he falls quiet and the electric guitar sings sound like one more rodeo -- not the last, who knows when that'll be. It sounds like a thrilling dance so you wait anyway, hoping you'll be the cowboy's next adventure. [6]

Leah Isobel: I think what makes "White Horse" work for me is its evident sense of play-acting; its cheeseball Southern-rock framing and Chris Stapleton's living signifier of a voice automatically put quote marks around the whole song. From there, all kinds of interpretations can enter, each one sillier and more joyful than the last. Personally, I think this is actually a song about fucking and the white horse in question is [redacted] [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Look: all I know is that moms love this guy. I'm starting to see the appeal as well; while the hilariously overdriven guitars and Stapleton's howl imply dashing romance and bombastic gesture, the lyrics are more interestingly ambivalent, full of moderated expectations and hints of regret. At worst I could see this soundtracking fancams for historical epics; at best I can pretend it's an ode to one of the world's oldest surviving chalk figures. ALSO WAIT I JUST REALIZED THE MELODY HERE REMINDS ME OF "PONY" HOW DEEP DOES THE HORSE SONG RABBIT HOLE GO? [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#chris stapleton #music #country #country music #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

[tokuteasings]

Where the Ocean meets the Land

@askrikkaiandhyotei​ had asked for Umemori Genta and man...I don’t appreciate my son enough. So here we gooo~!

Warnings: Just Genta being cute. I got inspired lol

It’s a knife to his chest, digging out innards and guts, finest sashimi being crafted out of singing swinging heartbeats. 

He’s drowning. 

He cannot breathe.

His teeth dig into soft lips and his hands shake, sweat ticking and trickling down the back of his neck and soaking into his shirt. There is a pout to his lips, though he tries to correctify it. He doesn’t want pity. He doesn’t want his beloved to tease him and taunt him, tugging him along.

Umemori Genta wants the truth.

But it’ll hurt him all the same. 

Their eyes narrow as they chew on the morsel - only the finest of fish for his beloved, he made careful sure of that - gears whirling and churning in their head. He could hear them clack, or maybe it was the clack of his own teeth?

His eyes don’t leave their form - perfection immaculate - his own brows mirroring theirs. He watches their throat bob, swallowing the piece and inhales deeply after swallowing that similar bob within his own esophagus. He calls out their name and they turn to him, cocking their head to the side curiously. 

“How…how was it?” his knuckles shift to snowy scapes as they grip the wood of his cart, threatening to shatter and splinter under his strength. “Was it good?” he bites down upon the tongue before he could bombard them with questions, flooding them with worries and what-ifs. They already have enough to contemplate, he doesn’t want to add more. 

They only chuckle, a gentle smile to their lips. “Genta,” they speak, clear and calm; a bell ringing through the dark. 

His throat is dry, his tongue darting out to lick parched lips. “Y-Yeah?”

“It’s great, I love it.” They smile a smile that graces the heavens, that sets his heart aflame and Genta pauses, and stares. His nostrils flare with air and his heart howls and whoops and screams. 

It all explodes out of him with the loudest yelp of elation, his head slamming against the top of his cart with a loud hiss leaving his lips. His beloved runs towards him, gripping him. “Are you okay?! Genta, you need to be more caref-”

Silence reigns the moment he slammed his lips against theirs, not caring for the taste of the ocean mingling with vinegar and home. They part when the ocean can no longer take the land’s love, a laugh leaving his lips. “Really? It is? You’re not joking are you? Just saying things?!” he lightly shakes them and they only chuckle again.

“I promise you, Genta.” they say while painting an ‘X’ over their heart. “I promise.” 

Genta squeals once more, peppering wave upon wave of kisses on to their face - eyes, nose, cheeks, forehead, hair, and finally lips - with the brightest of smiles. “Thanks, I knew you’d like it! I got the best stuff for you-!”

“I love it because you made it, Genta.” 

Waves are dyed red, parting lips and shock upon his entire form. Genta feels heat rolling upon the tides of his form, his smile brighter, “Really?” it’s an octave higher, something he never knew his voice could do.

“Honest.” 

Again he squeals, bringing them into the largest and biggest hugs, resting his chin upon their shoulder. He turns ever so slightly, pressing a kiss to their cheek, to the lobe of their ear. “Thank you.” he nuzzles further into their embrace. The ocean meeting the land, a harmony within his chest and home dusting at the corners of his heart. 

“You’re welcome. Come on, let me eat! I don’t want to waste it!”

“O-Oh! Right!”

#super sentai #super sentai imagine #super sentai x reader #umemori genta #samurai sentai shinkenger #shinkenger #shinkengold #look at him i love him #thats my baby boi #BUT KOTOHA? WIFE MATERIAL AS IS MAKO #shinkenger was such a good series yall #I"M SORRY IM SO BAD AT FICS HUFHHG #im still trying to get back into the swing of things

[milkiane]

lost time

pairings: colin zabel x reader

warnings: mentions of food, awkward mare lol

word count: 1834

note: because colin is alive and well, watching marvel movies with you and reggie <3

a soft graze upon your forehead caused you to stir a bit from the slumber you were in. eyes blurred and mind still disoriented, you let out a puzzled hum.

colin sighed, his hopes of not waking you up went down low as you rubbed the somnolence away with your hand.

“go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he whispered, caressing your hair.

“work?” you mumbled, forcing back a yawn.

colin hummed, making you frown. as much as you loved seeing your husband at the peak of his career, all of his hard work finally paying off- making him one of the infamous detectives in pennsylvania, it didn’t mean you never longed to have his presence around more.

“can’t you have a day off? just f’today?” you asked, words slurring with sleep, “reggie and i missed you, colin.”

colin’s heart sank. he knew he was spending too much time at work again, only seeing you and his son whenever he comes home late from work, reggie asleep in his bed and you passed out on the living room from waiting up for him, or in the early morning before he goes to work.

“i’ll see what i can do, alright? mare and i have had plenty of information now and we’re so close to solving this case,” colin said, he paused for a bit to think, “but hey, i promise i’ll be home early today for some dinner date with you and reggie, maybe watch some movies if we have some time, is that fine?”

you mustered up a small smile, “sounds perfect, detective,” you leaned up to kiss him on the lips, “now go to work, we’ll see you later.”

with one last kiss on the forehead, colin brought the blankets up to your shoulders and left the room, going into the next one to take a peek at his son.

“mumma, where’s dad?” reggie, your three-year-old son, asked for the umpteenth time. dinner was ready; table mats and plates arranged, the cooked food you spent hours upon making served in your delicate chinawares, and chosen movies fiddled in the hands of your son.

before you could even answer him, the front door jingled, alongside the voice of your husband. you grinned at reggie and exclaimed, “oh- hey, see, daddy’s home!”

you turned back around to make sure everything was in order as your son waddled across the room and into the arms of his father, “hi there, li’l buddy!”

although when you pivoted around, the sudden arrival of another guest surprised you to the limit. mare sheehan, colin’s partner, was standing beside him, taking in the sight of your humble abode.

“oh,”

colin turned his gaze away from his son and to you. usually, the sight of you in his clothes, dinner ready, and soft music playing would have made him more laid back than he was at work, but seeing your hurt expression, dinner ready, and his son still awake, he knew he messed up.

he carefully placed his son back down, letting him shuffle back towards you, “y/n, i- work just caught up, and chief- chief said we have to- and we needed to talk- talk about the case, and i forg-”

pushing aside his stuttering excuse, you forced out a smile and looked at mare, who was just standing there awkwardly, “mare, hey,”

“hey, y/n,” she sent you a tight-lipped smile.

you grabbed reggie and placed him up in his high chair, “c’mon, dinner.”

colin stepped forward and tried to make you look at him, “y/n, i-”

you looked at him with a blank face and replied sternly, “sit down and eat, zabel,”

dinner was awkward and tense, to say the least. colin and mare were exchanging information and questions about the case whilst you were glaring at your husband every once in a while, feeding your son amidst the clattering of utensils and chatter.

there was a moment where silence filled up the room, the discussion of the case long over.

“delicious dinner you made, y/n,” mare cleared her throat, trying to diminish the awkward silence.

“yeah, dinner’s amazing, sweetheart.” colin agreed, trying to get to your best side by complimenting your cooking skills. he wasn’t lying though, it did taste immaculate.

“thanks, mare,” you replied, looking up for a second to acknowledge her, and only giving colin a side-eye.

you were still upset.

“auntie mare, you have cool nerf guns at work?” reggie asked, shaping his mashed potato into a small mountain.

mare blinked, looking between your son and you, “uh, yeah.”

“that’s cool!” reggie’s eyes widened in stupefaction, “you catch bad people like dad, too, auntie?”

mare hummed, sipping on the half-empty beer in her hand.

he whispered a small wow, before talking once more, doing an excellent job of clearing the aura of the room, “like spiderman? spiderman catch bad people, too, auntie! like a superhero,”

“mommy doesn’t catch bad people but she’s my fav’rite superhero.” reggie bragged, beaming at you as you wiped the potato off the corner of his mouth.

as your look softened, you kissed the nose of your son, “thanks, baby. that’s very sweet of you,”

colin smiled, slightly feeling bad for spending less time with his family. he knew that the case they’re working on is important, but he vowed that family always goes first and disregarded that- resulting in you and reggie missing him and colin forgetting that he has a family that he goes back home to.

smiling once more, you stood up, “c’mon, now, say goodnight to auntie mare, alright? we’ll get ready for bed and i’ll read you your favorite bedtime story, ‘kay?”

“but you said we’ll watch spiderman with daddy tonight,” he pouted, arms crossing as he slouched back on his chair.

you sighed, “i know i did, reggie, but daddy has some work to do. he needs to talk about catching the bad guys with auntie mare.”

“okay…” he frowned, raising his arms so that you could get him out of his chair, “good night, auntie mare and daddy.” you nodded politely to mare as you prepared your son for bed.

once he and mare finished off their deliberation on the case, colin got ready for bed and walked into your shared bedroom. seeing you curled up on your side, and asleep, colin sighed.

he never liked sleeping when he knows that you’re both going to bed with a heavy heart. the both of you always fixed things through before heading to bed. ending the night with soft kisses and cuddles.

but that wasn’t the case this time, so he got in under the comforters and turned off the lamp, debating whether or not he should wrap his arm around you.

deciding against it, he kissed your forehead instead and turned to face the other side.

reggie’s eyes slowly fluttered open, it was still dark outside. you promised that the three of you will be spending time together to watch spiderman once his dad got home, but reggie was too avid.

rubbing his eyes, he grabbed his plushie and opened the door of his bedroom, slowly waddling his way to your bedroom, whispering to himself to be careful not to hit anything.

a careful shake on colin’s arm woke him up, he let out a confused groan before begrudgingly opening his eyes.

“reggie? what’cha doin’ up, buddy?” he croaked out, rubbing his face in disarray. his gaze fell onto the clock, 02:34 am.

reggie slowly climbed onto the bed and colin opened his arms to bring him in, “just missed you so much, dad,”

colin’s heart ached. he carefully brought his son in the middle of the bed and let him cuddle further into his hug.

“mommy and i watch superhero movies, but i miss when you copy them in silly voices,” reggie mumbled, slowly feeling the sleepiness take over once more.

“‘m sorry, reggie, i’ll make it up to you and mommy tomorrow, okay?” said colin, he kissed his forehead and rubbed soothing caresses on his head to lull him back to sleep.

the chirping of the birds and the blinding light of the sun seeping through the window served as your wake-up call.

slightly turning around in bed, you sighed as you didn’t see colin in bed anymore. you didn’t know what to expect, of course he’d go back to work.

when you fully turned, you were confused to see reggie sleeping peacefully beside you, arms securely wrapped around his spiderman plushie.

you were about to stand up and make some breakfast when the door suddenly opened. the sight you’re suddenly seeing made you double-take, making sure that you weren’t dreaming.

colin carefully kicked the door a little wider, trying to balance the tray in his hands. when he looked up, he saw that you’ve already woken up, a dazed look on your face.

he smiled, “hey, you’re up. just in time for some breakfast in bed,”

“i thought you were at work,” you sat up, leaning against the headboard.

“made some calls with the chief a while ago, gave me the rest of the week off,” he said, he lowered the food tray on the bedside table and made his way towards reggie.

“reggie?” colin whispered, shaking the little boy a bit to wake him up, “reggie, wake up, buddy,”

he stirred a bit, whining at the sudden disturbance of his sleep.

“reggie, wakey-wakey,” he cooed, running a hand through his son’s hair, “hey, look. i made breakfast, we can watch a movie while eating like i promised, remember?”

“daddy?” he whispered, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake up.

“yeah, c’mon, sit up,” colin raised him slowly, resting him beside your arms, “there we go, now…”

“for breakfast,” he grinned, grabbing the tray and placing it on your lap. he grabbed reggie’s sippy cup, containing his favorite hot chocolate.

“choc’late?” reggie beamed, placing a hold on the bottle to warm his hands up.

“yeah! now, scootch over, we’ll eat together.”

glancing over your husband, a ghost of a smile appeared on your lips. you watched as your two favorite boys interacted, making up for lost time.

as reggie munched on his pancakes, a marvel movie playing on the television, colin sipped on his coffee and turned to look at you.

feeling the weight of his stare, you shifted your gaze away from the movie and stared right back, “what is it?”

he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, “it’s just- i’m sorry, y/n. i know i haven’t been around much, spending too much time at work and little time with you guys. i just wanted to make it up to both of you.”

you smiled softly, placing your cup down, and leaned a bit to kiss his cheek, “s’alright, colin. you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

grinning widely, the both of you turned your attention back to your son who’s babbling about how pepper potts and tony stark are like his parents.

add yourself to my taglist!

general taglist: @daltonacademia @inks-and-jinx @silencioe @oldschoolkiddo @midnightgremlin @inglourious-imagines @peterssweetpea @iwritesiriusly @fives-cup-of-coffee @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @band--psycho @marswilson24 @miraclesoflove @chokemepansy @spideyspixies @lolooo22 @justfangirlthingies @mypainistemporary @remugoodgirl @tatestripedsweater @gryffindorgirl @hellounicorn @l0vely-lupin @undeadcortez @thatspookyagent @evanmybeloved

colin zabel taglist: @xmaximoffic @raincoffeeandfandoms @tatesrubbersuit

#scheduled #colin zabel #mare of easttown #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel fluff #colin zabel x you #colin zabel x y/n #colin zabel imagine #colin zabel blurb #colin zabel oneshot #evan peters #useramourtentiaa #tuserliane

[cheesy09]

Scorching Night

This oneshot was based off of Kiro’s Stardust Date, and takes place right after it (Because the angst in that date was immaculate 😩)

I know it's been a while since I've written anything, so I sincerely thank you guys for sticking around (´꒳`)♡

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: Kiro x MC (third person POV) Word Count: 2,800 Genres: Romance, Angst (a lot of it T^T) Warnings: Super suggestive!

"The reward I want more right now... is you."

His soft words echoed in the back of her head, along with the memory of his scorching lips. The wrapping of an insatiable tongue around her own, the taste of him intoxicatingly sweet; so much so, that she wanted to drown in him.

She knows she shouldn't think about it too much, but that scene was engraved in her mind. Playing on repeat, over and over; like a broken record.

The burning touch, his breathless whispers, and the half-lidded gaze that carried a mixture of light and shadow in its unfathomable depths... 

She blushed at the thoughts running through her head. Especially since the subject of said 'thoughts' was now seated right next to her in the back of the car, their shoulders only mere inches apart. She could feel his warmth, even though they weren't touching, making the tiny space all the more suffocating.

Ever since they left the concert venue, Kiro hadn't said a thing. Nor did she, for that matter. If Savin was here he would have frowned once he noticed the odd silence between them, but he wasn’t, which she was grateful for because she didn't know how she would have reacted. And even worse, how she would've faced Kiro.

After all, she couldn't stop thinking of him; the way he kissed her, his lips burning against her own...

Or the way he called her name after that, his voice dyed in the colors of a fire; warm and passionate.

By no way was that their first kiss. Not by a long shot. But the urgency of his lips on hers had left her dizzy and short of breath.

She thought back to those warm, sultry nights—nights just like this one—when hands wandered a little too far, and makeouts got a little too intense. Moments when that velvety voice of his—his whispers and soft sighs—were hers and hers alone. The memories sent a shiver down her spine and she forced herself to stop thinking, lest she sailed into even more treacherous waters.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

Kiro was looking out the window, a hand tucked under his chin, seemingly lost in thought. The passing street lights cast a faint glow on his features, illuminating his intense and solemn eyes.

She couldn't tell what it was that he was thinking about, but he suddenly moved and let out a faint breath, running a hand through his hair, his long fingers raking through the silky blonde strands and exposing his clean forehead.

Then his hand slid down, following the slender curve of his neck to his chest, and he undid a button of his shirt. He let out another light sigh and fell back against the car seat, his expression carrying a hint of tiredness and frustration.

Seeing that, she frowned, and couldn't help asking "Is something wrong?"

Not expecting the question, Kiro's eyes shot in her direction. His blue irises darkened slightly, and then unhurriedly looked away as he instinctively slid his hand into his hair again, his posture languid and a tad bit sexy.

"Nothing, it's just..." his tongue—one that had been wonderfully exploring her mouth just a few hours ago—flitted out, and slowly wetted his bottom lip. "...really hot."

His voice was low, sitting on the edge of something. But his words seemed to have an added layer to them, hot and heavy, as if they were heated up by the burning tip of his tongue. She felt her heart rate speed up, and her face burn, the sizzling tension between them so thick, it was almost overwhelming.

"Yeah," she replied, shyly tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, her voice so soft even she could barely hear it. "It is."

She shifted her sight then to look out the window, but she could feel Kiro's smoldering gaze on her, searing into her skin, which just made her cheeks grow redder.

She didn't know why, but ever since his declaration of love a few days ago, Kiro had been acting a bit differently than usual. His body language became more and more solemn with each passing day, and even those unwavering eyes of his got a tad bit brighter.

Like he had made up his mind about something.

What it was, she didn’t know. But what she did know was that whatever it was, it made her uneasy.

“Promise me, alright? Don’t forget me even if I leave.”

The words he had spoken then sounded grim and final, laced with so much yearning it took her breath away. 

Her heart ached. The Kiro she had been holding then had felt like mist. Like he could have evaporated the second she took her eyes off him. Distant and vulnerable. Lonely. And the fact that he was leaving the country tomorrow for a photoshoot made her even more anxious.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A tender voice rang out close, intimate. She turned.

She didn't know when, but Kiro had moved closer to her, approaching her with those brilliant azure orbs, closing the distance between them. His body heat radiated off of him in warm currents, sucking out the very air from the atmosphere until all she could breath and touch was him. He smelled of fresh pine and musk, invading her senses, making her ears buzz and her tongue fuzzy.

Just like the way he barged into her life, she thought. With his dazzling smiles and warm hugs, occupying ever nook and corner with his existence, stealing her mind, body and soul.

By God, she loved him. She loved him more than life itself.

She didn't know if she had been aware that their driver wasn't watching or if she just didn't care, but she leaned up and pecked him on the corner of his mouth, lacing their fingers together in the dark empty space between their bodies, as if filling a void. 

She felt possessed, her desire to get closer to him emboldening her to press further into him, breathing in his scent and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Mmm... you smell really nice," she sighed wistfully.

She felt Kiro stiffen under her, and his grip on their interlaced fingers instantly tightened. She could almost the picture the turbulence in his eyes when he said "God, you are making this so much harder."

Kiro's breath was ragged and his voice dark and guttural, carrying with it something unspoken that made her heart thud and a fire stir in the pit of her stomach. She raised her head to look into his eyes and felt her breath catch at the storm that was brewing within them. They flickered down to her parted lips, and she suddenly felt hot all over.

"We’ve arrived, sir," a voice called from the front and they both instinctively pulled back, the spell broken. 

-

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※─── 

-

The walk to the front door of his house had been a silent one, neither of them knowing what to say. Her mind was in a frenzy, and her heart was doing no better. All of her thoughts seemed to center around only one person.

"Just so you know," Kiro's voice broke through her thoughts, now back to its usual chipper, as he opened the door to his house. "I didn't really have time to clean up, so my place is in a bit of a mess. Don't say I didn't warn you."

She laughed, slightly relaxing under the usual, familiar atmosphere.

Kiro was a mystery in that sense. On one hand he could leave her all hot and bothered, desperately wanting his hands on her. And on the other hand, he could make her laugh and be free. "No worries. It's not like I'm any better."

"Oh, yeah! I still remember those dozens of magazines of me on your bed-"

"Kiro!" She whined, red with embarrassment. "I thought you said you would forget about that!"

"I made no promises," he replied, with feigned solemnness.

They walked into the house, their laughter ringing, and as soon as the lights turned on, she spotted the packed suitcases and travel bags in the living room, coldly reminding her of the fact that Kiro was still supposed to leave the very next morning.

She was used to it—constantly having to separate from him. Their jobs had required that of them. They would text and video call each other every day to fill in that void.

But for some reason, today was different.

Her chest felt tight, and she took in a shaky breath.

"I see you're all set for tomorrow," she remarked as Kiro discarded his jacket onto the sofa, leaving himself in only a black shirt and dark jeans. She had to stop herself from letting her eyes rove over the exposed skin of his well-defined collarbones, and instead, looked towards the side, her hands clenched into fists, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Stop getting tempted, she chided herself.

Kiro gazed at the baggage and laughed, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. My flight’s at ten in the morning, so I had to pack early.” Saying that, he walked towards her, his familiar body temperature approaching her again.

His eyes were like blue flames, torching her soul, fanning the flames that never stopped burning. She swallowed, rapidly turning towards the door. Her voice sounded a little flustered. “Then I’ll take your leave. You should go and rest up for tomorrow.”

She was almost there, only an inch away, but before she could even touch the door handle, a scorching hand wrapped around her waist and her back was instantly pulled up against a firm chest.

She felt his breath before she heard him speak.

“Where do you think you’re going, Miss Chips?” he whispered, his voice shaded with sensuality. Dark and hungry. “You need to finish what you started.”

“What’re you talking about?” She sighed, automatically leaning back into his touch, her heart racing a mile a minute. “You’re the one who kissed me first.”

“Maybe,” he murmured. “But you’re the one who kept the fire going.”

His hand reached up above her and before she knew it, the lights were switched off.

“Kiro, you—”

“Stay.” His hot lips pressed against her ear and a shiver ran down her spine. “Please stay.”

Kiro’s arms had completely encircled her at that point, and she was distracted by the movement of his lips over her skin as they travelled from her neck, down to her bare shoulder. She couldn’t help but sigh blissfully in his arms.

“You may have to look for me next time.”

Suddenly, his words from earlier came crashing into her mind, like an unexpected boulder, snapping her back to reality. The unease was back, like a snake coiling around her heart, and she opened her eyes in a daze.

“Kiro....” Even in her own ears, she could hear the longing that filled that whisper. That drunkenness from before came over her again and she hooked a hand around his neck, softly caressing his nape. 

Kiro purred at her touch, and she turned her head to the side, her lips brushing his cheek in the process. “Don’t go,” she pleaded.

He froze for a second, body almost rigid, and silent... But then sighed the very next instant, spinning her around and pinning her up against a wall. She didn’t even have time to think before she felt his mouth latching onto hers.

The temperature instantly spiked up, and she felt her body ignite against him. Their lips moved in sync, expressing something that couldn't be put to words.

Pain, reluctance, longing, desire.

She didn't know why, but the way he kissed her made her heart ache.

Her hands were on the front of his shirt and she stroked the skin of his collarbones and chest, eliciting a soft groan out of him as he shivered. Kiro was lean, and firm; beautifully sculpted under her palms, and she felt her fingers travelling down, undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt. 

"Miss Chips...." Kiro sighed against her mouth, and hooked his arms under her legs, prompting her to wrap them around his waist. He put his lips over her eyes, nose, chin and throat, his kisses like silk, melting into her skin. She gasped when she felt him suck on the sensitive spot of her neck.

"Mmm... Kiro, c-can we go to the bedroom first?" she whispered, her legs itching to pull him closer. His black shirt was now creased and disheveled, slipping past his shoulders, the dark material offering a beautiful contrast to his white skin under the pale moonlight. 

He was gorgeous. So incredibly, undeniably gorgeous.

Her love, her light.

What would she ever do without him?

Kiro slowly pulled away from her neck, leaned up and kissed her again, softly this time, but still enough to steal away her breath again. It was tender and affectionate, but belied a passion that was on the verge of loosing control.

It made her heart skip a beat.

He laughed breathlessly against her lips, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

"Your wish is my command, my Miss Chips."

-

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※─── 

-

Ten seconds. That’s how long it took them to get to the bedroom.

It was like a secret shared in the darkness. One that was littered with kisses and soft sighs. Charming and intoxicating, just like him.

As soon as she locked the door of his room behind them, his hand latched onto the back of her head, and he drew her into that sweet vortex once again.

Their bodies pressed together with urgency and their hungry mouths moved, as if trying to rob each other of breath. His unbuttoned shirt had left his chest exposed to her, and she trailed her fingers over his skin in a slow, sensuous drag, making him gasp into her mouth and press into her even harder.

As if in retaliation, his tongue slipped in between her lips and she moaned with pleasure at the sensation. She knew it. He was driving her nuts.

And yet, despite all of this, those daunting fears and anxiety over his departure never seemed to dissipate.

They tugged at her nerves, as if taunting her, causing her to kiss him harder, pull him closer.

The two had reached the edge of the bed by then, and she pushed him to sit down, straddling him in the process.

Kiro's eyes were half-lidded and dilated, a look of complete intoxication casted over his beautiful features. Golden hair framed his face and his cheeks were flushed under her fingertips. Looking at his perfectly messy appearance, a small bit of pride bloomed in her chest. She hoped she made him at least half as crazy as he made her.

She felt tears burn in the corner of her eyes.

Who was she kidding? She'd never be able to let go.

"Miss Chips?" She heard Kiro call when he felt her grip tighten over his shirt. She had been oddly quiet the past few seconds and he was starting to get worried. "Is something wrong?"

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Don't leave," she whispered urgently.

She dropped another kiss on the side of his nose, caressing his cheeks. "Please don't."

One on the corner of his lips. She could hear the crack in her voice and the moisture gathered over her eyelashes was enough to tell her she was about to cry. "Don’t go somewhere where my hands can't reach you."

"M-miss Chips," Kiro pleaded, his whisper breathy and soft, his eyes barely open in the face of her intensity. They were so close, just a few centimeters apart, and their hot breaths entangled in the space between them.

"Even if it's a lie, tell me you won't leave me," she said, desperation clouding her mind. Her lips ran over the shell of his ear, trying to place feverish kisses over every inch of him.

She tried not to look at his expression. To see the pain and sadness that flashed in those deep sea blue eyes. Because if she did, she would break.

Kiro paused for a moment. A brief instance of hesitation. The only sounds were their rapid and heavy breathing.

"I won't."

His voice was low, barely even there. But hearing his words, her heart finally grew somewhat at ease. She finally closed the gap between them then, kissing him square on the mouth. Slowly, deeply.

She'd worry about the rest of those unfinished words in the morning. But for tonight, they had each other, and that was enough.

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※─── 

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my works, please refer to my masterlist (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

#mlqc #mlqc fanfiction #mlqc kiro #kiro fanfiction #mlqc fanfic #kiro fanfic #oof that was one angsty end wasn't it? #NOW EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO DIG MYSELF A HOLE AND HIDE THERE

[writerpeach]

Expensive

Twice Mina x Male Reader

4179 words

Categories: smut, oral, anal, richgirl!mina

I wrote this in two sittings and spent zero time editing this.

“You'll do nicely."

"Excuse me?"

"I said you'll do nicely. Don't make me repeat myself again."

The words came abruptly from a stunning blonde woman approaching you, wine glass in hand and a blank expression on her soft features. She had on an elegant blue dress with a slit on one side that showed off her long legs. Each step she took her high heels echoed as she stepped closer on the hard wooden floor.

"I'm afraid I don't follow Miss-"

"Myoui. Myoui Mina, but you may refer to me as Mina."

She finished her glass of wine before she placed it on a nearby waiter’s tray before continuing her explanation. The place was packed enough that you felt the need to escape to a nearby corner. Mina seemed to have the same idea.

"Okay, Mina. What can I help you with exactly?"

"I'm looking for companionship."

You furrowed an eyebrow at her words. You had come along to this gathering as a favor to one of your friends who had spent months preparing it, only to not have seen them in the last hour.

"Certainly there's someone better to pick than me?"

Mina huffed.

"There's not, look around. Nothing but boring rich men that can't keep their eyes off me. I'd rather die than spend another minute with any of them and having to hear about their yachts."

"Well, I certainly don't have a yacht to bore you, with Miss Mina."

Mina smiled for the first time of the night since she approached you, giving off a hint of her gummy smile.

"Perfect. Then it's settled. You'll come home with me."

Bluntness was her game here. The more Mina spoke the more intimated you felt.

"I'm sorry? I barely know you, Mina."

"What's to know? I'm lonely, I'm rich, and I think you're attractive. Do you really need anything else?"

Mina didn’t seem like she was used to rejection given what little information you had been given about her.

"No, I guess not."

"Good, then come with me."

It hadn’t been much longer than ten minutes before she had abruptly introduced herself, and yet you found it hard to resist such an offer.

"My driver will be here in ten minutes. Follow me,” she said before you could even answer her, and at this point there was nothing that could compel you to deny the companionship of such a perfect woman.

Mina led you into a more quiet room away from the hustle of the crowd, positioning herself in between two white curtains.

“I don’t like to know anything about the men I’m about to sleep with, but you may ask me three things. No less, no more.”

Mina talking so casually about what was about to happen didn’t match her innocence face, but her confidence was still incredibly appealing. 

“How old are you?”

Mina frowned. “You know better than to ask a woman her age, don’t you?”

You gritted your teeth and cursed yourself for being so dumb. Talking to women wasn’t your strong suit.

“Why are you looking for a companion? A woman like you should be able to get any partner she pleases.”

“I’m not looking for a partner. I’m looking for someone to have fun with. Now that’s one. You have two left.”

“Where are you from?”

Mina hesitated before answering, her flashing an expression of disappointment.

“This isn’t a job interview, make your questions count. I’m from America, but I’m Japanese.”

If Mina wanted a little spice well you were going to be sure to give her some as you knew exactly what to ask her.

“What’s your favorite position in bed?”

Mina smiled again and answered right away. “Doggystyle. I love being on my hands and knees bent over so a man can admire my ass while he’s fucking me,” she said as she grabbed the bottom of your tie and played with it before using it to pull you closer.

You felt her hot breath blowing in your ear before her voice turned into a whisper.

“One minute until my driver gets here. Touch me,” Mina said seductively as she looked into your eyes and you didn’t need to be told twice.

Your hands wrapped around her slender waist as she wrapped an arm around your neck and kissed you. She grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on her bare leg, leading you deeper into the slit of her dress as your lips found the crook of her neck and kissed it in several spots.

You savored Mina’s taste on your lips as your hand slipped further into the slit on her dress, stopping just before you reached her thigh which she didn’t approve of, giving a glaring look that urged you to continue. Your hand traveled towards her crotch, waiting to find the barrier of underwear but never finding any as you felt the soft flesh of her bare pussy, not feeling a single hair.

“Surprised? I never wear underwear, it just gets in the way,” Mina smirked. “Come on, he’s here.”

You followed Mina out of the venue and into an awaiting black sports car, heading into its comfy back seat as you closed the door behind you.

"Where to, Miss Myoui?"

"Take us home. Step on it."

"Right away. I see you've found a new plaything."

"Hey, don't scare him off."

The car sped off as Mina kept her gaze focused on you, her hand caressing your thigh.

"We're going to have a lot of fun tonight."

"Mina, this dress looks so good on you."

"It's going to look even better on the floor. Now no more talking," Mina said and you unexpectedly felt her small hand cupping your crotch as you sat in silence.

"You feel big. Can't wait to feel this inside me."

Mina left the car and led you towards her rather large house, multiple cars out from and a gated entrance surrounded by a beautiful garden.

As soon as you entered Mina pulled you against her small frame against your body, pinning you against the entrance door as her soft sultry lips crashed against your own.

"Bedroom. Now," Mina demanded as she broke the kiss and kicked her heels off, her wide hips swaying as she led the way to the bedroom.

"Undress me."

You ran a hand up Mina's back before finding the zipper of her expensive dress, dragging it down as far as it would go.

Mina did the rest, letting the blue dress fall from her shoulders and fall down onto the ground as it crumpled into a heap. She was right, it did look better on the floor.

You didn’t know much about Mina in the short time you had met her. She was beautiful and elegant and very well off but seeing her this way without a single layer of clothing, completely nude took your breath away.

Mina looked so damn good naked. She gave off a shy smile as your eyes roamed every inch of her, focusing first at her beautiful legs that went on for days and thick creamy thighs. She didn’t even know her name, and yet you wanted her so bad as you saw her incredibly toned abs and immaculate tits. Mina’s perky breasts weren’t huge, but they weren’t small either, they looked like they fit into your hands perfectly.

“Enough staring, strip and get up here. A woman should always be pleasured first, ” Mina said as she climbed the bed, keeping her stoic gaze on you and couldn’t agree anymore. You quickly matched Mina’s state of undress as you removed your clothes, leaving a pile in the middle of the floor as you joined her on the bed.

“You listen well. I might have to keep you around,” Mina said as her lips curled into a smirk again. Her legs spread wide open, giving you the perfect view of her beautiful pussy that was ready to be feasted on.

“Eat me.”

You licked your lips as you laid down flat on your stomach, keeping Mina’s legs spread wide open for you. Before diving in you kissed both of her thighs repeatedly, bringing your face to her center as you licked up and down her slit slowly, earning a moan.

The sweet taste of Mina’s pussy was the best thing that had entered your mouth that night as you licked through her folds, running your tongue aimlessly before teasing and sucking on her swollen clit.

“F-fuck, that’s good. Show me what you can do with that tongue.”

Mina’s moans were music to your ears as you ate her pussy out, licking her pussy with purpose as her thighs closed around your face. The taste that entered your tastebuds was unforgettable as you leaked every drop of honey that dripped out of her leaking pussy, savoring her escaping juices that entered your lips.

“That feels so fucking good,” Mina moaned as her thighs squeezed your head tighter, and she ran her fingers through your hair, trying to force your tongue deeper inside her sensitive delicious pussy. You fucked her hole with your tongue, trying to capture as much of her essence in between your lips as her loud moans filled the room.

“Keep going…” Mina said as you kept your lips sealed around her clit, slurping hungrily as you brought two fingers inside her pussy, feeling her tight walls clenching as you curled them and found her spot with ease.

“Oh..oh f-fuck, I’m close, don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Mina was so delicious that nothing could keep you from eating her pussy, lapping up all her juices as your fingers became drenched in slick. You felt fingers digging into your skull as you did your best to keep your lips tight, barely able to breathe.

“I’m gonna fucking cum on your face, oh f-fuck!”

You kept the pressure on her clit, fingers moving in and out of her tight cunt as they clenched tightly, signaling her impending release. You kept constant eye contact as Mina’s toes curled and her thighs trembled violently around your head, holding you in place as her orgasm took control of her body and she made a mess on your face and screamed out in pleasure.

Mina came so hard the bed shook as you felt your face covered in her nectar, and tried to help her ride out her orgasm as best as she came down from her high, releasing her warm thighs around your face as you slowly pumped in and out of her pussy, cleaning your messy fingers off in front of her.

“Y-you’re good at that,” Mina weakly said, catching her breath.

“Let me return the favor,” Mina said as she got into position, kneeling on the mattress as she pulled her hair into a messy ponytail.

“Stand up and let me suck your cock.”

Whenever Mina gave an order you obeyed it, carefully rising to your feet as Mina eagerly awaited. She ran her tongue over her lips as she looked at your shaft, now hard as a rock and eye level as she gripped it tightly and stroked it, sending the first shocks of pleasure through your body.

“This will do.”

Mina didn’t waste time as she licked every inch of your shaft, keeping her eyes on you as her tongue swirled around your swollen head, collecting everything your leaking slit dripped out. Mina hummed as she rubbed your cock on her cheek, slapping her face with it several times and letting out the biggest grin.

“Are you ready to have the best blowjob of your life?” Mina asked confidently. You didn’t have a chance to answer as Mina’s lips parted, and you felt a sudden rush of wetness and warmth as you entered her mouth.

“Oh fuck…” you moaned out loud and sunk your toes into the mattress at the sharp pleasure, letting out a deep breath.

Mina wasted no time getting to work, wrapping her full red lips around your cock as she bobbed her head up and down, sinking her lips deeper as she took all of you with ease, using her tongue to pleasure the underside of your throbbing shaft.

“Oh my god, Mina…”

Mina kept her soft delicious lips sealed around your shaft as you rested a hand on the back of her head, guiding her movements as she fondled your heavy balls.

“Does that feel good?” Mina asked in that sexy soft voice of hers, running her lips down each side of your hard cock before resuming her blowjob, moaning around your shaft.

“It does, fuck it feels amazing.”

Mina upped her pace in response, looking up as she sucked you off and loving your cock in her mouth as much as you did.

Mina looked like a goddess on a normal occasion, and here she was on her knees, pleasuring you as best as she could and she couldn’t have looked any more beautiful.

“Fuck my face.”

The three words surprised you coming out of Mina’s mouth, such vulgarity coming out of what you perceived as a proper woman was such a striking contrast.

“I really hate repeating myself,” Mina said as your cock slipped from her lips and jerked it off furiously, staring into your soul with her deadly gaze.

Whatever Mina wanted Mina seemed to always get.

You took control of your cock as Mina opened her mouth wide, waiting to accept your gift into between her warm lips, the red color on them almost devilish.

Not wanting to keep Mina waiting you took your cock and pushed it into her wet warm mouth, feeling the tight grip of her lips as they instinctively wrapped around it and thrusted gently, hitting the back of her throat with your initial thrusts.

You waited for gagging sounds that never came, and once you realized that Mina was not struggling one bit you grabbed onto both sides and vigorously began to fuck her pretty mouth as she held onto your thighs, sharply digging her nails into your skin.

Mina looked up the entire time as you used her mouth for your pleasure, feeling her throat tightening as you thrusted carelessly. It only took a matter of seconds until Mina’s round pretty eyes filled with tears as you were mercilessly fucking her mouth, moaning every time your cock struck the back of her warm throat.

Your thoughts filled only with lust as you fucked Mina’s warm mouth, thrusting harshly in a rhythm that only made her muffled moans louder as drool spilled everywhere. You kept this up again and again, holding onto the back of Mina’s head and forcing her as deep against your base for several moments before releasing her.

Mina smiled proudly and gasped for air, spitting her saliva all over your shaft and balls before changing her attitude.

“That’s enough. Fuck me. Now,” Mina said as she laid back down on the bed, spreading her legs wide as she rubbed her pink pussy in anticipation. Positioning yourself in between you took just a moment to rub your shaft through her wet folds, gathering her slick before nudging at her entrance.

“Don’t keep me waiting. Fuck me.”

“Needy are we, Miss Myoui?”

Mina glared back at you and shot an intimidating gaze that sent a shiver up your spine.

"Don't use my family name in the bedroom."

It was a mistake you wouldn’t make twice.

With one slick move your shaft entered the warmth of Mina’s pussy, her tight walls clenching to welcome you in as you both gasped at the initial penetration. Mina was dripping wet as you slowly slid in and out of her hole, her juices making every movement as easy as possible.

“God, you’re so tight...”

“And you feel so big inside me. Shut up and fuck me.”

You used your hips and watched your shaft disappearing in and out of her pussy, hearing Mina’s lustful moans filling the room as her head tilted back in pleasure. Her tight cunt squeezed your cock as you thrusted in and out of her body, filling her up to the hilt.

“Fuck me harder.”

Mina always knew what she wanted and you were going to give her everything she desired. Your pace quickened right away as you pumped your throbbing shaft deep inside Mina, causing her breasts to bounce with every rock of your hips.

“Harder. Pound me.”

Grabbing onto Mina’s slim waist you obliged her right away, driving your cock with such force that the bed began to slam against the wall. Mina’s eyes were full of lust as you gave deep pistoning thrusts into her tightness, feeling every single inch of her warm wet pussy.

“Fuck me just like this. Fuck me until I cum again!”

You didn’t let up, increasing the pace even more as you slammed your cock inside Mina’s cunt with every inch of your throbbing shaft. It felt incredible how tight she was, and fucking her at this relentless pace that she demanded.

Mina felt so good around your cock, so wet and tight around your cock as you pounded her into the mattress, watching her half-lidded eyes and her opened mouth filled with pleasure as you gave into her.

“That’s it. I’m fucking close. I’m gonna cum!”

With every thrust Mina felt even wetter, drowning your cock in her juices as you pounded her, moaning and gasping with every harsh movement.

Your initial meeting with her was a prim and proper girl who screamed elegance, and here she was a lust filled mess in between the sheets, about to make a mess on them.

Mina’s tight pussy pulsated around your shaft as you plunged deep inside her, her long legs wrapped around your waist as she chased her orgasm. Her loud sounds of bliss echoed as you fucked her, and soon after Mina came beautifully all over your cock, toes curling as her back arched high and screamed in pleasure.

You fucked her through every last strong second of pleasure, and her limbs uncoiled as she came down a gasping mess, messy juices leaking down her thighs and spilling onto the bed sheets.

“N-not bad,” Mina said as she tried catching her breath, a sly smirk forming over lips.

“You made me cum twice, so it’s only fair that you get to cum now,” Mina said as her stamina began to recover, running a hand through her soft golden locks.

“I want you to cum inside me,” Mina said casually as pushed herself off your cock, repositioning herself on her stomach as she got into her favorite way to be taken, hands and knees on the mattress. You took your first glimpse at her raised plump round ass, perfectly looking soft cheeks that looked very appetizing.

“But not in my pussy,” Mina said as she shook her round ass, giving each of her cheeks a firm slap.

“There’s lube in the drawer. I assume you know what to do with it.”

Bottle in hand you lined up behind Mina’s beautiful big ass, squeezing her warm buttcheeks and kneading them, digging your fingers into her soft flesh as much as possible.

You quickly realized the bottle of lube she kept had been almost depleted.

“Seems like you’re almost out,” you teased as you shook the bottle several times, watching the clear liquid flowing around inside.

“You caught me. Can you blame a girl for loving anal?”

“Not at all. Especially when you have an ass this perfect,” you said, giving both of her cheeks a quick slap as her flesh rippled. You couldn’t help yourself as you rubbed your face all over Mina’s delicious ass, teasing the rim of her puckered hole with the very tip of your tongue.

“Mmm, fuck,” Mina moaned in satisfaction as you spread her cheeks wide, letting you know she enjoyed having her ass eaten. You licked her hole repeatedly, swirling around it before finding your face being pushed away, a frown on your face forming in response.

“I love that tongue, but I’d rather have your cock inside my ass.”

You were disappointed, but what Mina wanted Mina got as you lubed up your cock up and her puckered hole in preparation, the mutual anticipation at an all time high.

Placing a hand on one of Mina’s wide hips you lined up your lubed shaft with her asshole as she arched her back and looked back impatiently, a sultry look on her eyes.

You knew better than to keep her waiting, slowly pushing your cock into her tight rim and feeling how incredibly tight her ass was as your tip disappeared inside. Mina gasped loudly as her muscles relaxed, allowing you to fill more of her ass.

“Deeper. Fill me with every inch, I can take all of you inside my ass,” Mina demanded, needing no adjustment whatsoever. Her pussy was incredibly tight, but her ass was on a whole different level, hugging your cock firmly. The initial resistance faded, and with the combination of your saliva and lube you were able to penetrate Mina’s ass to the hilt.

“F-fuck, I love that feeling so much. I love feeling so full. Fuck me in the ass.”

Mina’s vulgar words once again contrasted with her elegance and beauty. You felt extreme tightness and heat around your cock as you started moving, thrusting in and out of Mina’s ass at a gentle pace.

“You can do better than that.”

Mina was never easily satisfied it seemed. Grabbing onto her full wide hips you squeezed her flesh tightly as you fucked her ass without any kind of buildup, pumping in and out and stretching out her tight little hole.

“That feels so good...that cock feels so good inside my ass, don’t stop fucking me.”

Soon your thrusts were at the same relentless pace, slamming your cock deep inside Mina’s tight asshole so harshly that her ass jiggled with every deep thrust, your balls slapping against her wet pussy that Mina couldn’t help but give out loud needy moans.

“Oh my god, Mina, your ass feels so good,” you moaned as you felt so much tightness squeezing your shaft. Mina gasped and moaned desperately as her fingers dug into her expensive silk sheets, trying to find an outlet for the intense pleasure you were giving both of your bodies.

“Fuck, you’re so deep. I can’t wait for you to empty your balls inside my ass.”

You never wanted your cock to leave the comfort of Mina’s incredibly tight asshole, fucking into her ass with as much effort as you possibly could, hearing the combined moans filling the room.

The tightness gripping your cock was like nothing you had ever felt before, feeding your animalistic urges as you pounded Mina’s ass as hard as you could as your bodies became covered in sweat, the harsh sounds of flesh on flesh encouraging your merciless pace.

“You like that tight pretty ass being fucked Mina?” you hissed as you pounded her hole with every amount of remaining energy you had, wanting to do nothing but make a mess inside her.

“Y-yes, fuck yes! Keeping fucking me, and don’t stop until you cum!”

You wanted nothing more. You squeezed Mina’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, pistoning your hips uncontrollably as you gave her tight ass the deepest and hardest thrusts, opening her up as much as you could as a tightness formed in your abdomen.

“F-fuck, Mina, i’m gonna cum soon.”

“Do it! Cum inside me, fill my ass with cum!”

You wish you could have stayed in this position for eternity. Mina’s bent over body covered in sweat, her tight perfect ass being pounded into by your shaft was something you never wanted to stop, but it grew to be too much. Each thrust into her asshole grew that tightness in your core even more, and you couldn’t last much longer, you’re not sure if anyone could.

It took only a handful more of thrusts until you were at your limits, burying your cock deep inside Mina’s tight asshole as far as it would go. You moaned her name loudly as you violently throbbed in her ass, sending thick spurts of cum deep into her body. You kept thrusting inside her ass as much as you could, emptying your balls as her hole milked every drop out of you.

You rested inside her as you recovered from one of the best orgasms you’d ever had, running your hands all over Mina’s body as you kissed her shoulders. Slowly pulling out of Mina you exited her body as thick semen slowly dripped out of her freshly fucked gaped asshole, dripping down her thighs and staining her sheets.

With nothing left you crashed next to Mina, trying to catch your breath as she pressed her naked sweaty body against yours.

“Mina, that was amazing…” you said, finding your stamina completely gone as you sank into the mattress.

“You weren’t bad either. Like I said, you would do nicely,” Mina said, flashing one more gummy smile.

“Rest up. You’re going to have a long weekend ahead of you.”

#twice smut #mina smut #twice #mina #reader insert #male reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

[gojoslutoru]

I can't even part 1

Gojo x fem!reader

Description: In hopes of forgetting about your boyfriend for a night you travel to a bar in the city where you meet a tall and very annoying man.

Warnings: alcohol, implied cheating, sexually suggestive

Wc: 1213

Song pairing: #icanteven (slowed)

The clock strikes 10pm as you ignore the flooding of messages from your boyfriend, he did nothing wrong, he just wasn't enough. Your relationship wasn't long, or boring for that matter. He just simply couldn't give you the adrenaline you needed. That's why you're sitting on a barstool at a random bar in the city, your silk dress draping over your form, your hair loosely tied up with some waved strands hanging down at the front.

"special occasion?" asks the bartender, pointing to your attire while giving you a friendly smile.

"just a regular Friday" you shoot back a smile at him before ordering a whiskey, he hands you your drink quickly and you mutter a quick thank you at him before taking a big swig, the coldness of the ice contrasting nicely with the burn of the whiskey.

"so what's a pretty girl like you doing out on 'just a regular Friday'?" the voice is soft but firm and came from the man sitting next to you, you take a quick look at him, he has white hair which slightly hangs over his dark sunglasses. His attire probably leaving little left unsaid about his personality: bland.

"I could ask you the same question" you reply, looking forward at the wall of liquor while taking another swig of your drink before setting it back on the square napkin.

"it's rude to answer a question with a question sugar" the sudden nickname makes you physically cringe, keeping your gaze fixed forward you ask the bartender for another whiskey, which he quickly prepares for you as you continue to ignore the tall lanky man next to you.

"it's on me" he tells the bartender as he tells you the price.

"are you seriously this oblivious?" you shoot at him in reply to his sudden forwardness.

"not oblivious, just thought I’d treat you since you seem to not be having a good time" you're surprised by his friendliness, but nonetheless you carry on the conversation if he's already trying this hard to get your attention.

"so what are you drinking?" you ask him to try and engage in the conversation.

"strawberry daiquiri" you look at him quizzically.

"you didn't strike me as a man with a sweet tooth"

"and you didn't strike me as a woman who'd be sour" your eyes go wide, dumbfounded at the sudden insult.

"don't get me wrong, sour is just not my type, would you like to try my drink instead?" it takes you a while to process the sentence he said, opting to just nod your head instead and smile sweetly expecting him to slide his drink over to you, or better yet buy you your own.

Instead the man took a mouthful of his drink before grabbing your jaw with his thumb and index finger, slowly pulling you forward towards him making you reach your hand out against his chest to steady yourself as he places his lips on yours and slightly parting them to let his cocktail slide into your mouth. The taste was sweet to say the least and you swore you could feel the granules of sugar as they entered your mouth. The man however did not pull away from you, further attacking your lips as you took a sharp inhale, even his scent was sweet, the faint hint of plum and strawberries lingering in your lungs and it rushed straight to your head.

His lips are soft, which is a nice contrast to his actions as he starts to enter your mouth with his tongue, pulling your head closer with his hand. He grazes your teeth before softly massaging against your tongue while letting out a sigh as your hands that were on his chest start slowly sliding up against his shirt, softly touching his collarbones as they make their way back to find their place around his neck. He shivers, which doesn't go unnoticed by you as you slide one of your hands further up his neck slightly grabbing the tufts of white hair to pull him closer. He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as you shiver against him. He pulls back slowly while taking in a deep breath, his glasses slowly sliding down to the tip of his nose exposing a pair of blue eyes that match the intensity of his immaculate white hair.

"as much as I like the ambience of this bar, I’d rather be in my car right now alone with you" he looks into your eyes as you cascade your arms down, your fingers twirling around his at your jaw before softly grabbing his two fingers and pulling them down never breaking contact as you slide out of your stool.

"I think we should leave then" you whisper to him as he begins to get out of his seat, beginning to tower over you his height taking you by surprise.

 You make your way out of the bar, hand in hand as you lead him towards the door. He pushes the door open over you to let you out, the scent of fresh air immediately hitting you with the warmth of the summer night, the rain still pattering on the concrete.

"stay here I’ll get my car"

"it's okay, I like the rain" you reply as you drag him further out from the shelter of the entrance to the bar.

"lead the way then pretty boy" you let out a giggle as you feel the rain hitting your skin, a nice cold shower as opposed to the sudden heatwave. His movements are sudden as you find yourself now up against his chest once again, one of his hands on the back of your head as his fingers lace with your own, your other hand limp by your side.

"say that again"

"pretty boy" you look up at him, his hair now slightly damp as the street lights luminate it. He drags his hand down your cheek as he tilts your head up to kiss you once again, the faint taste of strawberries still lingering on his lips. He brings your hand that's intertwined with his to his shoulder, dropping it there before sliding his hand back down against your waist. A moan leaving your mouth into his as he pulls you flush against him by your waist.

"seems like you have quite the problem there..." you trail off against his lips, not remembering if you've gotten his name or not.

"Satoru"

"what a pretty name for a pretty boy" you look up at him again, breaking the kiss. His pupils blown wide as he smiles, his teeth as pure as his hair.

"that's it" he says before dropping both of his hands to your waist signalling you to jump, you cross your legs around his waist as his hands find their grip at your thighs. Your hands finding comfort on his shoulders as he begins to carry you, your mouth leaving small kisses along his neck and jaw.

"as I was saying earlier, you seem to have quite the problem there Satoru" you whisper into his ear, not letting the feeling of his erection twitch slip past your attention.

"I wouldn't consider it such an issue with the way you’re draped around me right now".

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo saturo x reader #gojo imagine #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo fluff

[midearthwritings]

The Lovers' Three Swords

It is said that you become conscious of what you have only when you lose it. Ofelia almost lost Kíli.

Words Count : 2,749

Pairings : Kíli x Ofelia (OC), slight Kíli x Tauriel if you squint really hard.

Warning : Angst, Canonical Events (but not too canon), Injury, Near Death Experience.

Author's Note : So obviously this is set during BotFA. This is pure angst. From beginning to end.

Also, the title in itself does not make much sense unless you know the meaning of Tarot Cards. I'm kindly inviting you to check the meanings of The Lovers and the Three of Swords.

Snowflakes were falling from the sky at a slow pace, delicately landing onto the cold ground. Everything looked so pure, immaculate. The rocks covered in white, the scattered goblins’ limbs, the crown prince struggling to breathe. Immaculate. 

The few sun rays that peeked through the clouds shyly made the snow shine like thousands of tiny diamonds. Ofelia had never seen diamonds before. But neither had she needed to handle a sword. So, perhaps the day would come when she would lay her eyes upon one of these precious stones.

She, too, looked immaculate, despite the blood that had splattered onto her soft face and ripped garments. Although, she did not know whose blood it was. Hers or theirs? It did not matter when she quickly pulled her blade out of one of those vile creatures to bury it into yet another one of them.

It was messy because she could not aim properly, her lack of skills causing her to tumble backward. Ofelia gasped in surprise when her backside hit the hard ground, sending sharp sparks of pain into her entire body. Or was it in fear at how vulnerable and helpless she now was, at the mercy of those who wanted nothing more than to spill her blood? 

There was no place for tears or thoughts in a battle. It was only about surviving or dying. As she watched a goblin charging in her direction while she desperately tried to reach for her sword, discarded further away, there was only one thought that crossed her mind: she would die.

Goblins were fast. Terrifyingly so. It was on her within a few seconds. Ofelia cried out, her feet kicking at the thin layer of snow beneath her. Her fingertips brushed against the cold metal of her sword’s handle. She cried out again as if to encourage the weapon to come closer. Of course, it did not. So, the poor hobbit kicked harder, sending the goblin onto the ground.

Ofelia thought she would die, but she would not. Not yet. She grabbed the sword tightly and moved back onto her feet. Inside her chest, she felt her heart swelling with fear as she lifted the blade above her head. If she aimed right, she could get rid of it. Kíli had taught her how to aim properly.

Kíli.

“What are you doing with that stick of yours?”

Ofelia turned around, her arms lifted above her head as she readied herself to hit the nearest tree trunk with a thick stick. It was easy to pretend it was an enemy, another troll perhaps. And the stick was heavy and long, like a sword. Not that Ofelia had ever handled a sword. There were not many hobbits that carried weapons around the Shire.

It was easier to pretend when no one looked. And looking—staring even—, that the dark-haired prince did really well. Ofelia’s arms dropped to her sides in defeat, her wooden sword hitting the ground.

“It is not a stick,” she explained softly, “it is a weapon. I, too, need a weapon”.

At Kíli’s roaring laughter, Ofelia felt her cheeks heat up. Unfair. It was mean and unfair. Sadly, she dropped the stick—the simple, idiotic stick— and began to walk back to the camp. 

Behind her, the thunder died down. She heard twigs and leaves cracking as the younger prince walked fastly, catching up with her.

“Oy, Feli!” he called, grabbing Ofelia’s wrist gently. “Please do not be mad. I didn't mean to offend you.”

“These are not proper apologies,” she snapped. “And do not call me Feli!”

The soft caress of Kíli’s rough fingertips on the sensitive skin of her wrist sent shivers down her spine.

“My apologies, Feli,” the prince declared solemnly. Although, she could hear the grin in his voice. “Allow me to make it up to you?”

The offer made her turn around to face him. Ofelia gave him a questioning look, eager to know more.

“How so?” she asked.

She stayed still and quiet when he began to look around them, his eyes scanning the area. Finally, after a quick study of their surroundings, he bent down and picked up another stick. Not as thick and slightly shorter than the one she was playing with a few minutes prior.

With a big smile plastered on his face, Kíli handed it to her. Ofelia took it hesitantly, her eyes still full of questions.

“Let me teach you how to fight.”

And so he had taught her. Every single night, they would both disappear. And, hidden from anyone’s view, they would train with wooden sticks. It had been hard, at first. But Kíli had been patient with her. 

It had gone on for weeks, months even, until Kíli had deemed that she was skilled enough to have her own sword. One of his swords. The same one that collided with the goblin’s throat and sent thick crimson liquid everywhere to soil the ground and herself a bit more.

As she stared down at the creature’s lifeless body, Ofelia mentally scolded herself. She should have gone with him. She should have followed Kíli and Fíli. Poor Fíli, he who was battling against himself to stay awake. 

Everything around Ofelia seemed to slow down when she stopped to consider that maybe Kíli was also dying somewhere. She felt her guts clench and the urge to throw up as a lump formed in her throat. She needed to find him.

Guided by only her feet and the wind’s soft whispers, she began to run. Clutching her sword as if her life depended on it—because it did—, she ran through the dozens of goblins that surrounded her, her blade dancing haphazardly in the air in a weak attempt to hurt anything that ventured too close to her.

“You must hold onto it tightly, Feli. But not too tight, or else it will be a bother and hurt you. Relax your fingers a bit more... Aye, perfect.”

The contrast of the cold snow beneath her feet and the leather burning her palms was overwhelming, but Ofelia could not bring herself to loosen her grip, was it only slightly. 

“Do not be so stiff, you have to rela- no, not too much. Here, just like that, alright? Great. Now hit.”

Ofelia’s muscles were aching with how tense she was. She swung her sword again in an all too painful movement. Her head was pounding. Was she running for his life, or hers? Perhaps both.

Everything looked the same, covered in pure white snow. Ofelia was pretty sure that she had come here at least twice already. A voice, coming from deep inside her heart, shouted at her that she should have never left the Shire. There was no place in this war for a simple hobbit lady such as herself. There was no place amongst dwarves and elves, men and orcs, for a little hobbit.

“It is not easy, using a sword, Feli. It is alright to make mistakes. Everyone does. Mahal, I do not have enough fingers to count how many times I made mistakes. But, it will be worth it, in the end. You will see, Feli.”

And once she would find him, it would be worth every cut, every blister, every tear. Firmly planting her feet on the ground, her lungs feeling too tight from how much she had run, she screamed his name. She called for the prince, snowflakes crashing onto her face, hoping that he was still alive enough to hear her and call back.

It was not Kíli who answered. At first, Ofelia thought it was an echo, sending her unanswered cry back to her. But it was not. It was an equally desperate voice, one that did not belong to her or Kíli. A voice filled with pain and fear.

Ofelia shivered and began running again. This time, she followed the foreign voice. Whoever it was that was calling after the prince must have known where he was. Hopefully.

It was hard, running in the snow. Inevitably, she slipped and fell, her chin colliding with the ground. Inside her mouth, her teeth sank into her cheek and soon she could feel the unpleasant coppery taste of blood. 

 Ofelia hissed in pain. But there was no time for pain, no time to stumble or fall. Once more, she heard someone calling Kíli's name. Louder, this time. She was getting closer to it. Closer to him. It was enough to pull her back up. 

 In the fairy tales children were told, no one ever spoke about how unreal and slow everything felt whenever the hero was fighting. Nor would they speak about how distorted everything looked, including distances. 

Ofelia did not think she was the hero, not even close to that. She was a hobbit from the Shire. A short creature who lived on good food and a pretty garden. But when she stepped forward, the prince and a red-headed elf—Tauriel— entering her view, she felt so far away. She felt as if she would never be able to reach them, no matter how many miles she would run.

 Further down, Kíli and Tauriel fought side by side. It looked beautiful, Ofelia thought. Ironically beautiful. They moved so easily as if they had been made for that and that only. It looked as if they were dancing a dance that could cost them life.

One of the Orcs was creeping behind the prince, ready to strike. The little lady felt her heart pounding against her chest, yelling at her to do something, anything. But she would never be able to reach them in time.

“Kili!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping it would catch his attention. It did not. Although, her eyes locked with Tauriel’s green ones.

Ofelia had heard of the beauty of elves before leaving her beloved Shire. And she had witnessed it in Rivendell and when they had been held captive in Mirkwood, and again in Laketown when Kíli was ill. Tauriel was one of the most beautiful elves she had ever seen.

Quickly, she indicated the creature behind Kíli. Tauriel’s eyes followed the direction of her finger, and although Ofelia could not hear a single word, she was pretty sure that the elf had warned Kíli because he swiftly moved away.

 Caught into another frenzy, Ofelia rushed down the stone stairs, careful not to slip again. She was not so sure that she would survive it this time. 

Orcs were tall, way taller than her. It was easy to take down a goblin when it was almost her size. But this...It was monstrous. Next to it, Ofelia looked ridiculous. Yet, a spark of bravery shot through her body and she bolted towards it, burying her blade in its calf. She knew, deep inside, that it must have felt like a mosquito bite. Yet, she felt a certain pride when the Orc hissed.

 It did not last long because, in one swift movement of its leg, it sent her a few feet away. 

“Ofelia!”

The sound of his voice ringed in her ears and she looked up. Kíli was there, right in front of her. And she could not help but smile brightly at the sight of him.

“Kíli…” she breathed out. And like a toddler who craved their mother, she reached out for him, tried to pull him close to her. 

  But there was no place for love here. Before she could register what was happening, a greyish hand snaked around Kíli's throat and dragged him away from her. 

The prince looked worn out, exhausted. For how long had he been fighting before Ofelia had arrived? Was the blood on his face his or theirs? Tauriel, too, looked as if she had not been able to rest for centuries. Her breathing was erratic. They were not dancing anymore. They were dying. Both of them.

The Orc's blade was pressed against Kíli's chest, preparing itself to dive into the soft flesh.

She looked around for her own weapon. But the Gods were not on her side anymore, and she stared at the shining steel that laid at the Orc's feet. And she knew that the creature was aware of her helplessness when he gave her the coldest and cruelest smile.

“No!” she cried out, standing up to try and get her sword back. “No!”

The little lady did not have time to go too far when two slender, yet strong arms wrapped around her middle, keeping her on the ground. 

Tears began to run down her cheeks, bruising the soft skin. She tried to fight, tried to free herself from the strong grip.

“Ofelia!” Tauriel begged, struggling to keep her down.

Hobbits did not have the same eyesight as elves, nor could they hear the same thing they did. But when the blood-stained blade plunged into Kíli's body, she swore she had heard the sound of his skin being ripped in two. And although she was at a good distance from the prince, she saw his eyes turning completely black due to the pain, his pupils twitching disgustingly.

 Behind her, Tauriel sobbed. Ofelia felt the elf's nails digging into her skin. But all she could focus on was the tiny red droplets that glided down Kíli's body to crash onto the pure white snow. Immaculate.

Ofelia screamed. She screamed and it burned her throat, sucking all the air out of her lungs. She screamed until her jaw began to hurt and her voice broke into tiny sharp pieces that sliced through her heart. She screamed until Kíli's body hit the ground, his hair spread out beneath his head in a dark halo.

Death was not fascinating, nor was it intriguing. It was devastating. Although, Ofelia could not tear her eyes away from the prince. She watched as his chest rose and fell in a quick rhythm as he struggled to breathe. She could not look away from him, even when she saw the Orc coming closer from the corner of her eye. She could not look away either when Tauriel tightened her arms around her. 

For the second time this day, Ofelia thought she was about to die. And she wished to die looking at Kíli, son of Dís. But she would not die, not yet. Nor would Tauriel. 

The Orc—perhaps it had a name, Ofelia did not care—fell before them. A dagger was stuck in his skull, the handle pointing proudly towards the sky. It was dead.

Slowly and carefully, the short lady extricated herself from Tauriel’s protective embrace, and like a wounded animal, she crawled towards Kíli. She ignored the voices behind her to listen to his breathing.

“Oh, Kíli…” she whispered, her hand cupping his cheek delicately. 

The young heir grabbed her wrist, his fingers shaking. The pained moaned he let out broke her heart a bit more. Without help, he would die. Without help, she would lose him.

Ofelia turned around sharply, her eyes falling onto Tauriel and another elf, one with blond hair.

“Help him,” she ordered, her voice sore from the screaming. None of them replied. They gave her the look. The one that meant there was nothing left to do. Angrily, she pointed a finger at Tauriel. “You healed him once! In Laketown. Do it again! Do it again!”

“Ofelia…”

It was lower than a whisper, barely audible. And maybe Ofelia had imagined it. Maybe she had imagined all of it. She hoped so.

Kíli moaned again, louder this time. And perhaps she acted on impulse again. Perhaps her decision would be his ending. But at least, she would have tried. Ofelia decided that Kíli would not die, not yet.

Determination painted on her face, Ofelia stood up and pulled Kíli to his feet. He screamed in pain, hurting her ears.

“What are you doing?” Tauriel asked. “You’ll hurt him even more!”

It was true. Kíli was in pain and Ofelia could not even imagine how he must have been feeling at this moment. But she ignored his crying, and she ignored their looks. The little hobbit lady began to walk away, supporting the dwarven prince as best as she could.

“Kíli needs help or else he will die,” she explained, droplets of sweat already beginning to prickle on her forehead. She looked back at them one last time and pronounced the same words that Kíli’s own brother had used the first time he had been about to die:

“I will carry him if I must.”

#ofelia took #kili x ofelia #kili fic #the hobbit #the hobbit oc #the hobbit kili #my oc

[ben0vilence]

This is a story inspired by @harbingers-appointed DK yb AU ^^ I hope I exceeded expectations. There is a little smut in here, so no minors! Hope you enjoy!~

A Heavenly Night In Hell:

Today's bounty was plentiful. Many unfamiliar constructs the human world has. I return to my abode, one I used to loathe with every fibre of my being, that is until I found the love of my life. With my most recent haul, they are sure to appreciate my efforts and be less inclined to further question my intentions. They are nothing but pure after all. I opened the immaculately decorated double doors to the castle and strode through the entrance hall, stone walls flickering a pale shade of blue courtesy of the torchlight. I hear the pitter patter of delicate footsteps echo from upstairs and smile. My darling is to grace my line of vision once more, a sight I simply cannot go without for prolonged periods of time. They dashed out from around the corner atop the staircase, panting as they grasped the railing for support. I saw them grin as they laid eyes on my gifts, and my heart thumped with longing.

"You really did get everything! Wasn't it too heavy though..?" They asked. Ahhhh, their voice and the concern that laced it was so soothing, their question was almost lost on me.

"Of course I did, anything for you, darling. And no, I used my powers to transport all this here." I chuckled. Mind you, if I'd used my raw physical strength to do so, I may not have had much success. I may be vastly taller than them, but not quite strong enough to lift some of these objects. They descended the staircase and approached me, the stool I custom ordered for them in hand. I often had to remind myself how tiny they were in comparison to myself, especially in these heels. They set it infront of me and climbed up, pulling me in for a hug. Instantly, my body melted into theirs as I wrapped my arms around their frame. I took this opportunity to discretely inhale their addictive scent from the nape of their neck and hair, exhaling warm air against their pale skin. They giggled, a sound I found most adorable.

"I have a name, y'know? Why dontcha use it?" They smirked. I grinned, my incisors glistening and sharp.

"I am aware, and a lovely name it is Bene~ But I love calling you 'darling' most of all." Their neck sunk into their shoulders as those cheeks turned rosey, a look that caused the steadily building hunger in my heart.. and explicit regions to rise.

"Praytell, what are these human devices used for?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"I still can't believe you've never done this before, haha. See, I heard from some of the other demons that before I arrived, you mostly just spent your time in solitude sitting on that throne of yours. Soooo, I thought we could do something more fun and have a movie night. Just the two of us."

My eyes widened in excitement. I had always wanted to watch a film, and now that my darling was by my side, it was to make the experience all the more enjoyable! I helped them set up everything we would need for tonight, and helped them turn the centre of the foyer room into a meadow of lush cushions and soft blankets. It took everything to contain my joy, it would all be so perfect. There was only one thing I needed to do afterwards, and that was give my hired help the night off. TK is as submissive as they come, the head of "housekeeping" too, but lately I've become suspicious of my second in command.. Don was hardworking and fearless, admirable qualities in a demon army general, but troubling in regards to Bene. It's hard enough that he's technically taller than me.. I will not have him turn my beloved against me..

                            ~~~~~~~~~

With the "riff-raff" taken care of, I joined Bene that evening in my nightgown. It was more comfortable than my day wear, true, but I figured it might even appear more aesthetically pleasing. Bene was dressed in a modest black t-shirt with a holographic design on the front, they called it "a Pokémon" I believe, and some shorts. I assume this was also for comfort. They had surrounded the area with premade confectionery and savoury deliciousness, and as they looked up at me, they beckoned me to sit with them in the cushion pile. They didn't have to ask me twice. My tail swayed with every step, and I finally took my place behind them. They adjusted their position and laid their head on my left inner thigh, nuzzling it softly. My emotions were frenzied, so much I had to bite down on my own hand just to keep myself in line. I swallowed saliva that had briefly accumulated in my mouth and stroked Bene's shoulder. They shuddered at my touch.. not from pleasure it seemed.

"Are you alright, darling?" Their eyes open, but they don't look at me. It unsettled me a little, to say the least. Other times we've held each other and they never shivered with this amount of intensity. What had changed?

"Yeah, I'm fine. We can watch the movie now." The flat affect their voice possessed did not convince me in the slightest, but I could sense that pressing them on the matter could possibly anger them. The film that played was a commentary on human society, their governments and how they used fear to control the masses or influence circumstances to benefit them. One man actively defied them, however. He destroyed monuments to their power and influence as revenge for disfiguring and torturing him for their own gain. I saw a lot of myself in this man.. Bene teared up a little as we watched certain scenes. The warmth of the blankets must've calmed them eventually as they stopped shivering, and seemed at peace with my presence. The food probably helped in that regard too. I had no idea how sweet human food could be until I tried chocolate. Solid yet creamy once it melted in your mouth, marvellous~. The film drew to a close after nearly two hours, but I almost dreaded that. The story was so intriguing and emotionally charged, but the ending was at least satisfying. Bene sat up and stretched their limbs.

"You have impeccable taste, my love." I smiled as they finally looked at me.

"Thanks, uhh.. You know something I just realized? I still don't know your name yet." They chuckled. I faltered, my smile fading slightly.

"Honestly, my name repulses me.. I don't even allow my subjects to call me by it. Any name you were to give me would be desirable though."

They hesitated at this proposal. I could tell they had a name on the tip of their tongue ready for me, but it never escaped. They thought for a moment.

"Okay.. how about Dean?" Oh, could they have thought of anything better? I don't think so. It was a little basic, but far better than the name "someone" decided to give me..

"I love it, darling~" They gave me a small smile in return, but for some reason immediately broke down into sobs. I instinctively pulled them closer to me, re-wrapping the blanket over them.

"Please.. if you're not alright, you can tell me, Bene.. Honest communication is an essential part of relationships, is it not? So as long as you're truthful, I promise I could never be mad with you." I hushed them softly as they cried into my gown, rubbing their back. Their chest soon ceased heaving.

"Dean.. I-.. there's so many things I want to say, but I can't put it into words.. so many things I want to do, but never gave a chance." Their eyes glossy with tear drop residue met mine, and I felt my heart steal itself with the anticipation of the moment ramping up.

"I'm.. I'm ready." Those eyes softened, and they leaned in. This was it, the golden moment I had spent countless nights imagining. I cupped one of their cheeks in my hand and bridged the gap, planting a kiss on those pouty lips. More followed as we found our rhythm. Ahhhhh~ my darling's tongue tasted exquisite. I was eager to taste every inch of them, and I moved down to the nape of their neck, an area I knew for sure would stimulate them. Such delicate skin, slick as my tongue slid across it. They let out a whimper, and reached a hand up to caress my horns.

"O-mmmmmmmph~" The horns are extremely sensitive areas for demons, and regardless of whether they knew it or not, they were doing a spectacular job of turning me on. I began to nibble their skin, earning trembles in response. I hold them with my left hand, and reach my right hand underneath the blankets to play with my now throbbing member, at least until Bene is ready for me. I had already leaked precum thanks to the horn stroking, it makes me wonder if they had experience. Possibly. We continued our foreplay until it escalated, and I took them into an unforgettable experience. Nothing was more euphoric than hearing them scream my new name, moan for me, cum for me, and I them. Then sink into each other as we drift into fitful sleep..

I love you so much.. now and forever, darling~

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up in the middle of the night, the demon king cuddling me close to his body. I didn't dare move, hardly even breathe. I replayed the evening's events in my mind over and over.. what the fuck was I thinking..? Hah, I wasn't thinking. My unstable emotions and impulsivity caused my brain to enter autopilot, to just give into my own madness. It's happening again.. no no no, I can't fucking do this shit again! How can he love me when he doesn't know what I am? I don't even know what the fuck I am! Except maybe a monster, a disgusting piece of filth, a run through whore, a heathen. However, when I died I thought I'd return to the worm infested ground, they'd feed on my flesh, and that would be the end of everything.. but no, here I am in that place everyone said I would go to. My body shivered violently as I felt myself become overstimulated with this vortex of negative thoughts. Don't wake up, don't wake up. Leave me alone! I just want to go home! I don't want to be here! I'm not good for you, and you'll see that soon enough! To my surprise and immense relief, he let go of me and rolled over on the bed, facing the opposite direction. Now. Now I could get up and get some air. I carefully pulled myself out of bed and crawled on all fours towards the drapes covering the windows. I opened it and morphed into my fallen form; good to know it still worked. I leaped from the window sill and flew into the dark inferno, hoping that maybe I could find a way to escape with the time allotted. Or maybe just mope around on a rock somewhere.. I honestly felt defeated already.

I landed somewhere outside the neighbouring town, and even then I had a sneaking suspicion I wasn't alone.

"Why dontcha come out and say hi? I don't bite." I smirked, and turns out I was correct. The king's second in command, Don, had been trailing me. He stepped out from the shadows, tall and imposing, much like the demon he served.

"What are you doing out here? I'm surprised the king let you out of his sight with how obsessed with you he's become. And what's with the getup?" He asked, chuckling.

"He's still asleep, so I let myself out. And this is my fallen form, something I don't usually show others." I replied, transforming back to my regular form.

"Impressive kid. But I'm gonna have to take you back, don't want his majesty losing his shit over you." He nodded as he advanced on me, grabbing my arm.

"No! I don't care if he worries, infact if he had common sense at all, he wouldn't bother! He thinks he loves me but he doesn't! He doesn't fucking know the real me and never will!" I ripped my arm away and scowled, earning a look of shock from him.

"He's convinced that I love him, or he can 'make' me love him, but the truth is I don't know what real love is. So I can't feel it.. Everything about this situation is wrong.. and even though it's not toxic right now, it will be eventually. Like clockwork.. In my house, alone but free, is where I should be. Not here.."

"So, you wanna leave, huh kid?" I nodded, and he sighed.

"I know it'll be hard for you to wait.. but I need you to be patient while I organise things. However, if you wanna leave that badly, I can help you. You gotta help me first though." He added.

"How?" I looked up at him inquisitively.

"Keep the king off my back for as long as you can, and lower his defences if possible."

"I won't have to kill him though.. will I? I don't want to hurt him.. that's the main reason I wanna leave." I murmured.

"You'll be breaking his heart regardless, so no way around that. But nah, you won't have to kill him. Leave that to me." He grinned, an ominous glow in his eyes.

"Alright, I'm in."

#DemonKingYbAu #writing #no minors #your boyfriend #y0urb0yfriend #yourboyfriendfandom #18+

[katsuumi]

OK I KEEP TO REQUEST a song inspired hc!!! Ok so hb a angst hc + haikyuu boys (you can choose whoever you want) based on ‘Knee Socks’ by Arctic Monkeys!! I feel like it might be repetitive though to do more than like 2 boys??

# ! MIGHT BE MINE  . ❞

// MASTERLIST ! //

STARRING — KOZUME KO .

SOLILOQUY — TYSM FOR THE REQUEST !! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS, I KNOW WHAT THE SONG’S ABOUT, BUT I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO REALLY MAKE IT A HEADCANON. ALSO, SORRY I DIDN’T DO 2, IT WOULD’VE BEEN REPETITIVE CONSIDERING THE SONGS ABOUT ONE PERSONS ACTIONS. ALSO, I LOVE THE ARCTIC MONKEYS, YOU ALL HAVE IMMACULATE TASTE’S IN MUSIC

EPS. DESC — WHEN THE ZEROS LINE UP ON THE 24 HOUR CLOCK, WHEN YOU KNOW WHO’S CALLING EVEN THOUGH THE NUMBER IS BLOCKED

RATINGS — PG-16 ;; GN!READER ( READER CAN BE PERCEIVED AS POC )— ANGST ; BREIF MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION + SLEEPING AROUND ( BREIF )

↳ when you and kenma broke up he was a wreck-

↳ and he still is a wreck

↳ you never thought he would be the one to cope this way, hiding his severe depression by going out and hooking up with others

↳ he spent most of his nights using physical intimacy to get through his depression

↳ it hurt to know this, since he’d always seemed to have a problem with being intimate with you

↳ it’s not that you wanted to know

↳ but his drunken calls at night answered all the questions you never wanted to ask

a tired kenma patted himself down, searching for his phone. deep inside, he knew that you wouldn’t answer his calls. he’s tried so many things to try to get you to speak to him again, but he couldn’t. but perhaps that’s because he only ever reached out to you at midnight when he was completely wasted. he typed the *67 in his phone, trying to disguise his number to you. with each number he pressed, beeps hit his ears like a bell, sending him further and further into his throbbing headache. he remembered the first time he ever picked up the phone to call you. when you were still a stranger to him and he had someone to test out a new him. he never thought it would come to this, becoming so emotionally attached and neither did you. however, he somehow managed to light the very fuse you both hoped would never touch light. and now here he is, making decisions he would have never made if you were still here with him. he’s always hoped that you would still be his. he put the phone up to his ear, hearing the ring buzz in his ear, but what he didn’t expect was to hear a similar ring hit his other. he turned towards the noise, where he saw you. you were there, sitting by the coats in the corner of the house. you sat legs up to your chest as you slightly rocked back and forth, trying to grab your phone to see who was calling. you had an idea who, it was around that time of night that kenma would call you and burn you with every detail of what he was up to for the night. he stared at you for a while, watching you answer his call. he smiled, loving that you were giving him a chance tonight. “hey, kozume.” he pouted at the formality. his stomach squirmed at your tone, at the way you greeted him. your voice was filled with regret already, why did you pick up? the soft way you would voice his first name was long gone. he moved towards you a little, admiring the sight of you sitting there, wearing his Lacoste in your favorite knee socks. “hey, there.” his voice hit both of your ears and it sounded all too close. you looked up, removing your eyes from the part of the floor you tried keeping your eyes on to avoid everyone else. you hated him, but tried not to smile as your gaze fell upon his.

© 2021 @katsuumi​​ // do not repost, modify or plagiarize my work on any platforms. please refrain from copying my layout/theme without asking + do not translate without crediting me. i'm begging, please do NOT steal my work, trash bags.

#kenma kozume #kenma x reader #kenma angst #kenma kozume x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! x gender neutral reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! #kenma headcanons #haikyuu x reader #hq x y/n #hq!! x reader #hq x reader

[wooyunhwa]

devil’s advocate | yunsan

view pinned post for my masterlist!

Genre: smut

Pairing: demon!san x angel!yunho

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: mostly pwp, idol/idol pairings, oral, fingering, barebacking, biting/blood drinking, kind of infidelity? although no one is actually dating anyone this whole fic is just a mess of love triangles everywhere but keep that in mind 

Synopsis: Yunho summons San for a chat while Y/N is asleep, but he soon discovers that old habits die hard. 

A/N: Here it is, the semi canon yunsan slash fic I’ve been talking about! If you haven’t read my kingdom series some of this may be confusing to you, since the characters and interactions are based on that fic, but the smut can be enjoyed on its own I think! This story happens somewhere in the middle of my fic, while San is still a demon and Yunho is still watching after Y/N. This is canon if you want it to be, and not canon if you don’t! Enjoy~

Y/N had nodded off while studying with her headphones in, as usual. Yunho decided to let her be, not daring to interrupt her sleep by rousing her to take off her headphones or move her to a more comfortable position. She always slept better when listening to something anyway, he noticed. 

Yunho could have left. He could have gone home—he even could have used the opportunity to get a good night’s sleep, take advantage of his human body that was constantly threatening him with the need to dream. It was so unfamiliar to him. 

But as Yunho prepared to leave, a peculiar post-it, pinned precariously above Y/N’s desk, caught his eye. He knew it was San’s calling card, or at least he could guess as much by the Latin scribblings. He froze for a moment, his limbs feeling like lead as his body moved him towards the post-it note. It was a bad idea, he knew it, but his body was pulling him forward before any sense of reason or logic could catch up.

 As an angel, he couldn’t summon San even if he wanted to, calling card or not. But as a temporary human, he was free to do what he wished with San—with a curious loophole. As an angel, even in his human body, he didn’t need a contract with San.

He exited the room quietly, shutting the door gingerly behind him. If he was going to have an opportunity to talk to San alone, now was probably the best—if not only—time he would have to do it. He stood in the middle of the living room facing the kitchen, bringing the post-it note up to recite San’s card carefully. 

“Well this is an unexpected surprise,” San’s voice rang out from behind him. Yunho swiveled on his heels to see San poised neatly on the couch, looking as dark and devilish as ever. He ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it gently as his crimson gaze met Yunho’s. “The human’s place and yet… no human?”

“She’s asleep,” Yunho explained calmly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I thought we could talk.”  

“Talk, hm?” San fiddled his lip ring in his fingers absently, dragging his lip down slightly as he pulled at it. “Hm… Is that liquor I smell on your innocent little angel breath, Yunho?” San asked with a smug smirk, but no question needed to be asked. Yunho smelled unmistakably like the glass of alcohol he’d had with Y/N earlier in the evening—an activity he wasn’t exactly used to yet. Alcohol was useless to an angel, but to his human form, it was liquid gold. 

“I—it doesn’t matter…” Yunho started, heat pooling in his cheeks from San’s call out. He was embarrassed to have even given in to a drink in the first place. It was a bit sinful, as an angel. 

San’s eyes gleamed mischievously as he gazed at Yunho up and down. “Don’t worry, Yunyun. I won’t tell.” He made a zipping motion with his fingers against his lips. 

“Don’t call me that, San. I told you never to call me that again,” Yunho said through gritted teeth. 

“What, are you just going to pretend forever?” San raised himself slowly from the couch, taking a step towards Yunho. “Pretend that we weren’t a thing?”

Yunho rolled his eyes. “A thing? Is that what you want to call it now?” He took a deep breath, collecting himself. San knew exactly which buttons of his to push—he always did. “I didn’t come here to talk about this, you know. I came here to talk about our situation.”

San quirked an eyebrow, eyes glazed over with an emotion Yunho couldn’t quite place. “What if I don’t want to talk?”

“No one said you have to say, San. You know I can’t contract you. You’re free to go if you want,” Yunho said, trying to seem as unbothered as possible. But the truth was, he was completely bothered by the idea of San leaving. Maybe it was the drink slightly rose-coloring his vision, but San looked… incredible. 

He was lean, as always, his proportions immaculate—a statue of a demon, waist cinched in beautifully by a belt, then erupting into a dizzying display of broad shoulders. Yunho wiped his mouth subconsciously, swiping away the drool that had somehow collected at the corners of his lips. His time with San was a distant memory, but one that, at this moment, he desperately wanted to experience again. If only once. 

Something Yunho didn’t know about alcohol—it made him horny. He’d only had one small glass, and yet he felt himself growing harder by the minute, especially when standing right in front of San like this. He wondered if San noticed. Yunho wouldn’t call himself gay, not in the slightest. But he always had a soft spot for San. Maybe that was why, now, he couldn’t do anything but picture San naked underneath him. 

He shook the thoughts from his head, coming back into reality when San took another step forward. Yunho stumbled back slightly. 

“That’s fine. I’d like to stay. Been a while since we got some time to talk alone, wouldn’t you say, Yunyun?” The nickname poured off San’s tongue with so much power, so much conviction. Yunho knew he was toying with him, but a part of him welcomed it. 

“San, I don’t have time for—” 

“For what, hmm? A little alone time with your ex-lover?” San flashed his fangs, and Yunho stumbled back until his back met the cold surface of the kitchen counter. “I have to admit, you look good. It’s too bad you don’t have your pretty little wings.” 

He looked Yunho up and down with his blood-red eyes, gleaming impishly as he noticed Yunho’s nervous disposition. Yunho could barely hide the way he was squirming now, feet shuffling against the floor, not quite sure where to put his hands. He crossed his legs slightly to conceal his boner, but he knew San had already seen it by the look in his eye as his gaze moved downwards. 

“I knew you still had a soft spot for me, Yunho. Or maybe a hard spot…” He took one more step forward, pinning Yunho with his hands, trapping him against the marble countertop. “Feeling flustered by me, angel boy? Cute.”

Yunho scoffed, shoving San off him. “I’m not playing your games, San. I know you.”

San clicked his teeth against his fangs, then drew his tongue across his lip annoyedly. “You’re no fun. I was just playing around.”

As much as Yunho hated to admit it, and how much he knew that San was just toying with him for fun, he had a point. Yunho was completely flustered—San was irresistible to him in every way, especially now. Yunho’s boner throbbed against the crotch of his pants, the discomfort compounding by the second as he watched San’s every move.

“So, were we gonna talk?” San asked, elbow leaning against the counter next to Yunho. “Or are you just gonna keep checking me out?”

 Yunho remembered why he’d originally brought San here—to talk. But he couldn’t quite remember what about, or why, or even think about anything but San looking like that. “I—uh… uh, yeah. Talk. We should do that.”

San let out a cheeky laugh, lips curling up into his familiar smirk, a flash of fangs and charming dimples. “You don’t sound very convinced of that, angel boy.”

Yunho’s eyes trained on San’s lips. He had a one track mind now—and his dick was right with him. He couldn’t believe he was even considering coming on to San like this, in Y/N’s apartment with her sleeping just a wall away. He wasn’t really worried about waking her, since she fell asleep with her headphones in, but it still felt morally wrong. He wasn’t in the mood to think about morals, though, to his surprise—considering he was an angel of the highest moral compass. Or so his coworkers would say. He was never one to break an angel code. Thankfully for him, there was nothing in angel code against human-him kissing his demon ex-lover in his assignment’s apartment. At least, he was pretty sure there wasn’t.

Yunho’s lips came down on San’s before he had even a minute more to rationalize with himself. He pulled his body around San’s, this time pinning him like he’d pinned Yunho minutes before. San moaned in surprise against his mouth, pausing for a minute at Yunho’s sudden initiation before reciprocating the kiss against him. 

San slowly peeled himself away from the kiss. “Mm, I know I was teasing you earlier, but I didn’t expect you to actually kiss me, Yunyun.”

Yunho furrowed his brows. “Do you not… want me to?”

San’s eyes glazed with lust, biting his lip as he drew his gaze up and down Yunho’s face, lingering just a bit too long on his lips. “Of course I’m not gonna say no to a pretty angel boy like you,” he purred, pulling back into Yunho’s lips hungrily. 

Yunho fisted one hand in San’s hair, the other grasped firmly over his bicep, digging in with his nails. San growled low in his throat at the sensation of Yunho’s nails digging deeper, and Yunho pressed harder against San’s chest, pushing his back further against the cold countertop.

“I’ll never get used to the smell of demon,” Yunho muttered through heavy breaths between kisses. 

“You don’t exactly taste heavenly to me either, angel boy. But you’re hot, so I’ll make an exception,” San quipped back, smirking against his lips. 

Yunho’s cock ached in his jeans, and he ground himself up against San as they made out, which, if he was being honest, only made it worse. He wanted San naked, now. But he was also enjoying the pleasure as San’s tongue dipped into his mouth. San’s demon taste, admittedly, wasn’t Yunho’s favorite. But he was too consumed with desire to care—right now he tasted as heavenly as any angel. 

Yunho brought his hand down to palm San’s cock through his pants, noting it was just as hard as his was. San grunted and sighed against his lips, melting like putty in his hands. Something about the way he could reduce San to a moaning mess with just a touch brought a rush of power through Yunho’s head, but San wouldn’t let him keep it. 

San pushed Yunho off of him, guiding him to the couch and shoving him down by his shoulders with two strong hands. Yunho sank into the cushions, eyes widening as San planted himself in Yunho’s lap, straddling him with his legs on either side. Yunho watched as San’s crimson eyes grew dark, lustful as he found his way down on Yunho’s lap. San’s hands threaded through Yunho’s hair, gripping tight as his lips found their way back to the angel’s, more hungrily this time. 

He ground his hips down against Yunho’s throbbing cock, still threatening to burst through his jeans at any moment. San ground mercilessly against him, eating up every needy whine that escaped the angel’s mouth. 

“Angels, so pathetic,” San purred, lingering his fangs over Yunho’s neck threateningly. “Moaning little messes.” 

Yunho couldn’t argue with that—he was a complete mess with San on top of him, giving him just enough to keep him aching for more. “You know, you smell like an angel, but I bet your blood tastes just as good as a human.” 

San’s sharp fangs teeth pressed down slowly against Yunho’s taut flesh, not quite hard enough to pierce the surface tension of his skin. Yunho squirmed underneath him, bucking his hips up against San’s, and he could feel San’s mouth draw up into a satisfied smirk against his neck. 

“Hmm, angel boy? Think your colleagues upstairs would be happy with me littering you with pretty little marks?”

Yunho gulped, and San tightened his grip in Yunho’s hair, yanking his head down harshly against the back of the couch until Yunho was staring at the ceiling. His fangs dragged along the sensitive skin of Yunho’s neck, sending tingles rocketing down his spine. 

“San, you can’t… she’ll see—” 

San sighed disappointedly. “That’s too bad. I was really looking forward to draining you,” he muttered against the angel’s neck, pulling back to make eye contact with Yunho. 

Yunho felt almost like his prey as San’s crimson eyes dissolved slowly to a dangerous, demonic black. He’d fucked San before, but they were angels. It was entirely different then—soft, heavenly, warm. But this. This was cold, dark, and passionate—a sexual experience unlike Yunho had ever had. One he now almost regretted not having sooner. 

Yunho realized he was still fully clothed—a reality he needed to change as soon as physically possible. He pulled his sweater over his head, then started fumbling uncoordinatedly at the buttons of San’s shirt until it was hanging open, revealing his perfectly sculpted chest. San was exactly Yunho’s type, if he had to pick one—lean, but not too muscular, small waist, broad shoulders. In fact, one could say San was Yunho’s only type in men. 

Yunho’s large hands fit perfectly around San’s tiny waist, holding San in place neatly as he ground against Yunho’s crotch. San littered kisses down Yunho’s neck, displaying impressive self control as he carefully dragged his fangs along the surface, not daring to leave marks. Yunho let out shaky moans as San moved down to his collarbone, peppering kisses and nibbles along his shoulders and chest. 

Yunho was so worked up, writhing beneath him in a way that he could hardly control any more. He worried if San so much as touched his cock, he would lose it right there—and he wanted to savor this moment as much as possible. 

San glared up at him with a teasing smirk as he trailed his tongue down Yunho’s abs, sliding down off the couch until he was on his knees, his head level with Yunho’s crotch. He popped the button on Yunho’s jeans, then slowly tugged down the zipper, clearly enjoying the way Yunho writhed in anticipation. 

“What’s the matter, angel boy? Too slow?” San teased, and Yunho sighed in frustration. San traced his fingers over the fabric of Yunho’s underwear, his touch featherlight and heinously gentle. “Tell me what you want,” he purred. 

“Quit torturing me,” Yunho huffed, tilting his head down to glare at San. 

“Be more specific, love. If you want me to suck your cock, just say so. Or are you too innocent, hmm? That’s cute.” San’s smile widened as he teased Yunho, not letting his game up for even a moment. 

Yunho sputtered, choking a bit at San’s forwardness. But he should have known he would be like. “San, I’m not gonna—”

“So you want me to stop then, is that it?” San sat back on his heels defiantly, and Yunho’s eyes widened, brows furrowing. He knew San wasn’t one to let up so easily—that stubborn asshole. 

“No—no… please, San,” Yunho begged, the throbbing of his cock against his underwear nearly making his eyes water.

A smug smirk tugged at San’s lips, satisfaction glimmering in his blood-red irises. “Cute, how you think a simple please is enough. Beg for me, love. I wanna hear it from those innocent little angel lips.” 

Yunho gulped. The only thing he had left was to shove the embarrassment down to get what he wanted—no, what he needed.

“I—I want you to s—” His breath caught in his throat, a huge lump forming as the blood pooled in his cheeks, making his face hot with humiliation. 

“Look at you, so innocent. I don’t recall you being this shy when we were together, Yunyun. Thousands of angel years must have really done a number on you.”

Yunho gritted his teeth, choking out his next words carefully. “I—I want you to suck my cock. Please. Please, San.”

“That’s my angel,” San purred, a grin fully formed on his lips as he sat back up on his knees.

San hooked his fingers in the waistband of Yunho’s jeans, finally tugging them down. Yunho raised his hips off the couch to slide them off, equal parts mortified and aroused by San’s games. He couldn’t deny how bad he wanted it, a fact San knew all too well. San slid Yunho’s underwear off next, his embarrassingly hard cock springing free in front of San’s face. 

“Oh, my. I forgot how big it was.” San raised his eyebrows as he tossed Yunho’s clothes aside, licking his lips as he examined it from base to tip. It was a compliment, but somehow Yunho’s cheeks reddened even further, hot underneath San’s intense, crimson leer. 

San flicked his tongue across the tip, lapping up the droplet of precum with a soft kitten lick. Yunho groaned in the back of his throat at the sensation. It was barely anything, and yet San had him so wound up he was bucking his hips at even the slightest of touches. San snickered at his pathetic response. 

San wrapped his lips around the head, sucking lightly as his hands came to rest on Yunho’s thighs. He gave just enough suction for Yunho to jerk his hips up with a shaky breath. San laughed with his lips still sealed around the head, smug red eyes locked on Yunho’s as he slowly took more into his mouth. 

“Oh, god,” Yunho breathed, tipping his head back against the couch. 

“Using the lord’s name in vain? Bad angel,” San scolded, pulling off Yunho’s cock with a wet pop. San wrapped a hand around the base, jerking it in his fist as he dragged his tongue in circles around the head. “Someone hasn’t been reading his Bible lately.” 

“I don’t want to hear that from you—ah, fuck,” Yunho groaned, cutting himself off as San sank down onto his cock, taking as much as he could into his mouth before it hit the back of his throat. San’s eyelashes fluttered as it became difficult, watery eyes looking up at Yunho as he gagged slightly. 

San looked gorgeous around his cock, much to Yunho’s chagrin. He was the very picture of sin—his soft lips stretched perfectly around Yunho’s thick shaft, teary crimson eyes leering through dark lashes, wisps of hair black as coal falling over his face like raven’s feathers. San looked like heaven and hell all at once, and Yunho couldn’t get enough. 

The mere sight of San on his knees in front of him was nearly enough to push him over the edge, but San pulled away just in time for Yunho to take a few necessary deep breaths to pull himself back to reality. San looked up with a satisfied grin, drawing his tongue over his lip, lingering it over his lip ring playfully. 

He stood up slowly, giving Yunho the perfect view of him as he stripped off his jeans. Yunho widened his eyes as San undid his belt, the veins in San’s forearms bulging slightly as he tugged it off. Yunho’s thoughts grew utterly sinful—completely unfit for an angel—as he imagined the things San could do with that belt. But he tossed it aside to the floor, prioritizing his hard cock bulging from the crotch of his jeans. Yunho’s mouth watered as San slowly stripped his jeans and underwear off, allowing his length completely free now.

San stepped forward, dragging his fingernail along the taut skin of Yunho’s neck, forcing his gaze up to meet his. San surely got a euphoric sense of power having Yunho look up at him rather than down. 

“You know the drill, love. On your knees for me, okay?” San purred, letting his nails dig into Yunho’s chest as he ran them down, leaving angry marks behind. 

San’s eyes widened as Yunho stood up from the couch, closing every inch of space left between them. San’s head tipped up now, meeting Yunho’s as he watched the angel’s eyes darken mischievously—a look entirely unbefitting of him, but enough to make San blush slightly.

“No, San.” Yunho contested, placing his hand on his cheek as San’s crimson eyes grew confused. Yunho, admittedly, wasn’t one to fight against San’s control. He was, as San would put it, a good little angel. 

“No?” San hissed through his teeth. 

“What, you’re not used to your prey defying you?” Yunho asked with a devilish smirk, taking a page straight out of San’s playbook. 

He didn’t know what came over him—he wasn’t usually like this. In his time with San as angels, San was always the one who took control, the one on top. Yunho liked it that way too. He was entirely submissive in nature, which is why now, as he openly defied San’s orders, asserting dominance by looming above him, San’s eyes widened in complete shock.

“You don’t want me to fuck you then, is that it? Angel boy is too innocent, too pure now, hmm?” San asked, but his voice was shakier than before as Yunho towered over him. 

“No, San. I’m going to fuck you this time.”

Yunho had never seen San’s eyes so wide, glimmering with an emotion somewhere between fear and excitement. “I—I’m sorry. You’re going to what?” San sputtered, biting his lip as he met Yunho’s harsh stare. 

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid to take my cock?” Yunho teased, running his fingers slowly through San’s hair, sticky with sweat. San’s confusion only compounded in his expression, and honestly, Yunho had no idea where his sudden confidence had come from either. The effects of the alcohol from earlier had worn off by now, and yet he was asserting so much dominance over San now like it was nothing. 

“Who’s the innocent one now, demon boy?” Yunho felt so satisfied as the words dripped off his tongue—he understood San more now, and the pleasure he got with toying around with him so mercilessly. After everything that San put him through, Yunho was going to take back his control. 

San’s voice was shaky as he spoke, but his eyes were narrower now, dark and glazed with lust. “I’ve never seen this side of you, Yunyun,” he said as he helped tug Yunho’s jeans to his ankles. Yunho shook them off his legs, discarding them to the side. “I have to say, it’s kind of hot.” 

San’s hand came down to softly stroke Yunho’s cock, and Yunho let a growl roll low in his throat as San caught him off guard. Yunho’s eyes trained on the demon’s neck as a gulp rolled through San’s throat.

“What?” Yunho probed, forcing San’s chin up again to look him in the eyes. 

“It—uh, you’re big,” San said, his confidence dissolving rapidly as he gauged Yunho’s impressive size with his fingers. 

“Bigger than you’ve taken before?” Yunho asked, stroking San’s hair, which was still tangled neatly between his long fingers.

“I’ve never… uh… I’ve never taken any before,” San admitted quietly, breaking his crimson stare away. Yunho’s eyes widened for a moment, before erupting into uncontrolled laughter. 

“I’m sorry, I’m supposed to believe the almighty San, glorified sex demon, has never been fucked before?” Yunho asked mockingly. His harsh words surprised even himself, but they poured out now with so much raw vigor he wasn’t in a position to stop himself.

“Shut the fuck up, angel boy. You know I like to be the one in control,” San sneered in response. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” Yunho cooed, his tone a bit condescending. He wasn’t going to waste his opportunity to play around with San a little. “But no promises.” 

San scoffed. “No need to be gentle with me. I can handle myself.”

Yunho’s lips drew into smirk, bending over until his breath tickled against San’s ear. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

Yunho could see San’s knees buckle slightly under him, making him a bit wobbly as he slipped away for a moment. It was satisfying to see San like this—shaken, visibly working to hide the way Yunho’s uncharacteristically powerful aura was affecting him. 

“I—I’ll be right back,” San muttered, turning on his heels out of Yunho’s large shadow, finding his way into the kitchen.

Yunho sank back down on the couch, waiting as San rummaged through Y/N’s kitchen cabinets before re-emerging with a jar of coconut oil. 

“Coconut oil? How did you—” 

“It’s saved my ass many times,” San responded dryly, prompting Yunho to chuckle at the unexpectedly apt word choice. It would certainly be saving his ass now.

San stifled a visible gulp as he drew to his knees in front of Yunho on the couch once again, dipping his fingers into the coconut oil and working the slick substance all over Yunho’s waiting cock. Yunho let out an uncontained whimper at San’s touch, still all-too-sensitive from the way San had worked him up earlier. 

Yunho’s mind was a mess of lust, his mind consumed with thoughts of only SanSanSan, on his knees, submitting underneath him. He imagined San’s restrained whimpers, his embarrassed whines and moans as he took Yunho fully inside him for the first time. 

San was stroking the angel’s hard length softly, a sight Yunho could have only described as beautiful, perfect, everything he ever needed—and yet his mind was elsewhere. He had a one track mind to take San until he was screaming his name—a pathetic, whiny mess sprawled on the couch. All his thoughts, his feelings, were consumed by a filthy culmination of all of Yunho’s pent up anger and frustration towards the demon he once loved, bubbling within him now all at once. That, and the raw sexual attraction he had for this somehow godly demon—a sinful way for an angel to think of such a horrible creature. 

San’s growingly enthusiastic pumping around Yunho’s shaft snapped him back to attention, making hooded eye contact with the demon’s lustful ruby eyes. Yunho gestured for him to get up, motioning towards his lap, and San obeyed enthiastially, taking a gentle seat against Yunho’s thighs, not once breaking contact of his fingers on the angel’s member. San straddled his lap, his own cock brushing against Yunho’s as he settled in. San bit his lip as Yunho’s hands came to grab his ass, giving it a rough squeeze with his long fingers. 

“A-are you gonna, um—” San stuttered, and Yunho could see his cheeks were flushed a pretty red from their close proximity. 

“Am I gonna…?” Yunho prompted, a smirk blooming on his face at San’s embarrassment. 

San broke his crimson gaze from Yunho’s, ducking his head down. “You know. Um—”

“Aw, are you embarrassed to say you want my fingers inside you? So cute,” Yunho cooed, letting condescension fill his voice as his smirk widened. 

“Shut the fuck up, angel boy,” San growled, heat pooling more heavily in his cheeks as Yunho continued to tease him. 

Yunho snickered in amusement as he reached for the jar, dipping his fingers in to coat them in oil. He brought his hand back to San’s ass, gently trailing a slick finger along his entrance, and he felt San shiver in his lap, letting out a shaky breath. San’s hands snaked around Yunho’s shoulders, burying his head in the crook of his neck to hide his red face. 

Yunho slowly pushed a finger in, his other arm wrapping around San’s waist to keep him steady. San let out an adorable little squeak, and Yunho smiled at his reaction. Yunho pushed it in all the way, sliding down past the knuckle until his hand barred him. Yunho’s cock twitched at how tight he was, even with just one finger inside—he could only imagine how San would feel around him.  

“You good?” Yunho asked softly.

“Yeah,” San breathed against Yunho’s neck. “Keep going.” 

Yunho pulled his hand back, slowly dragging his finger out almost all the way, then gently eased it back in, eating up San’s shaky breaths against his neck, spilling hot air over Yunho’s skin. Yunho began a slow rhythm, gradually increasing the speed of his movements. 

San whimpered beneath him, Yunho’s lips drawing into a satisfied smile as he listened closely to San’s every sound, pleased at the way Yunho had him—very literally—wrapped around his finger. Even as an angel, San was always in control, always one step ahead. It gave Yunho an unmistakable headrush to see the normally cocky demon conceding so easily under him, his heavy breaths and restrained whines falling softly from his lips. 

Yunho brought a second finger to San’s entrance, teasing light circles around the outside.

“Think you can handle another, hmm, demon boy?” Yunho breathed in San’s ear. He wasn’t usually one for condescending nicknames, but if he wanted to keep up with San, he’d have to pull out all the tricks.

He felt San nod yes in the crook of his neck. 

“Use your words.”

“Yes. Fuck you,” San sneered in response, though his actions didn’t match the icy sting of his words. He was a moaning, whiny mess, yet he still tried to play cool. 

Yunho only chuckled in response as San bit his lip to restrain the moans as Yunho slipped the second finger in, bringing it slowly up to pace. As San seemed to relax into the sensations, melting against Yunho’s chest, head still buried in his shoulder, Yunho got creative. He twisted his long fingers inside San’s ass, crooking them slightly to increase the pressure.

“Ah—ah, fuck,” San breathed against his skin.

“Should I stop?” Yunho asked softly, halting his movements teasingly. 

“No—no, fuck—keep going.”

He slowly resumed the movement of his fingers, keeping his pace unpredictable as he felt San shake and clench around him, eating up the moans and whines as San conceded to his movements. A wave of inspiration rushed over him suddenly. 

“Sannie,” he cooed, using a nickname he hadn’t used for the demon in hundreds—if not thousands—of years. “Look at me.” 

Yunho moved his free hand from supporting San’s small waist to his chin, pulling it off his shoulder to making eye contact with him. San struggled to meet his eyes, face still red-hot from the humiliation of his submissive state. 

“Tell me you want me, Sannie,” Yunho purred, eyes trained mischievously on San’s flustered expression. “If you want my cock, you have to ask nicely.” 

He thrusted his fingers up to the knuckle, causing San’s pretty moans to spill over beautifully from his lips. 

“Ah—Yun—ah,” San breathed through his teeth, any composure he had left slowly unraveling in Yunho’s hands. “Fuck—fuck you, I’m not going to beg.”

“Then I guess you don’t want it, is that it?”

“No I—mmf—keep going...” he whined. 

Bad idea. Yunho halted his fingers, causing San to whimper in protest. 

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you want me, or we’re done here, San.” 

Yunho was bluffing. It was obvious how much he wanted it, but he trusted San not to realize that, or care. He’d take the bluff as far as he had to just to watch San beg pathetically for him. But the truth was, Yunho wanted this badly, more badly than he could ever image, his cock throbbing and aching against San’s as they pressed and pushed together against their stomachs. 

“P-please,” San choked out.

Yunho’s fingers traced against the demon’s chin again, forcing his gaze up until the eye-contact was unavoidable. “Please what?”

“Please, I want… your cock,” San continued, voice shaky as Yunho twisted his fingers slowly inside of him. “Fuck me, please…” 

“You’re so cute like this, Sannie,” Yunho praised, lacing his free hand in San’s hair as he slipped his fingers out slowly.

Yunho had prepared to flip him over on his knees, but San had other plans, shifting his weight on Yunho’s lap and hoisting his hips up until his ass lined up with the head of Yunho’s oil-slicked cock.  

“San—you can’t…” Yunho broke his confident facade for a moment, suddenly worried about hurting San from this position. He was effectively taking San’s ass virginity, and Yunho was more well-endowed than most. He could rip him apart if he wasn’t careful. 

“What did I say, angel boy?” San gritted through his teeth, letting gravity take hold as he slowly lowered himself down. “I can handle myself.”

San let out an unrestrained cry as the tip slid in. Even with the generous amount of coconut oil they’d used, it wasn’t an effortless endeavor. Yunho cursed through his moans as he took San’s overwhelming tightness—it was like nothing he’d ever felt before, San’s ass clenching beautifully around him. 

The pleasure only compounded as San took the initiative to sink further down, both their cries harmonizing at the intensity of the sensations. Yunho stayed painfully still, resisting every urge in his body to buck his hips up against San, to push all the way in. He couldn’t. He would destroy him. 

San’s head found its home back in the crook of Yunho’s neck, using the angel’s soft skin to stifle his own noises. San sank lower, only by a centimeter or so, but it was enough for Yunho’s body to react on its own, hips jerking up reactively.

San cried out, and Yunho realized what he’d done, but not before he felt San’s fangs sink into his shoulder, piercing the flesh without a second thought. 

“Fuck, San—I told you not to,” Yunho hissed through his teeth, wincing at the harsh sting of his fangs. 

“Sorry,” San mumbled. “You—I didn’t mean to.”

Yunho knew San was a bad liar, and didn’t take apologies lightly. He was telling the truth.

“I—it’s okay,” Yunho muttered softly. 

San lapped slowly at the wounds, soothing them slightly. Neither of them dared to move from their precarious position, San’s hips still hovering way too far off of Yunho’s thighs to possibly be comfortable. Yunho’s hands snaked around San’s tiny waist, digging his fingernails in as he took in the sensation of San’s tongue sliding over the stinging wound on his shoulder. 

“Maybe we should move to another position… y’know, so you don’t end up draining me like this,” Yunho suggested with a chuckle, and San nodded in agreement, still kitten-licking the fresh wound as more blood trickled out. 

Yunho couldn’t care less about his bleeding for the time being—he was too focused on his dick, which needed to be back in San’s ass immediately. Yunho moved his fingers around to squeeze San’s hips, helping him hoist himself up and slide off. 

San wasted no time repositioning himself on the couch, ass up in the air—an irresistible sight to Yunho, who wanted nothing more than to be buried inside him. But, considering San’s earlier difficulties, he’d have to be more patient than he would have liked. 

He lined himself up with San’s entrance, then dipping his cleaner fingers into the coconut oil, generously slicked his own cock and San’s ass with extra lubricant. San whimpered at the mere touch of Yunho’s fingers against him, cold and slippery with the oil. 

“Tell me what you want, Sannie,” Yunho purred, still riding his dominant high. 

“Fuck off and put your cock in me,” San growled. Yunho chuckled, deciding enough was enough—no more games.

He slid the tip in easily, helped by the generous amount of lube, stroking San’s hair from the back to soothe his whines and moans. He guided himself in deeper with his free hand placed delicately on San’s waist, admiring the difference in size. Yunho was huge, towering—a gentle giant. San was small and fragile, though you’d never guess by his cocky disposition. 

Yunho moved slowly, easing San into it. He knew he was too much for San, especially for his first time—but it didn’t make keeping the control any easier with such a hot demon whimpering and moaning beneath him. 

“Deeper,” San commanded. 

Yunho couldn’t argue with that. His control dissolved at San’s sudden demand. After all, San had instructed him not to be gentle with him. He thrust in, throwing carefulness out the window, and San cried out as Yunho tugged his head back by his hair, exposing his sharp features to Yunho from behind. He picked up a steady rhythm now, slow but vigorous, snaking the hand on San’s hip around to his waiting cock, stroking softly. 

“Fuck—Yunho…” San moaned, all composure he may have had left dissolving under Yunho’s motions, his hand now keeping pace with his thrusts. 

Yunho couldn’t keep it together for much longer, and neither could San, by the ever-increasing sounds of pleasure falling from his lips, begging Yunho not to stop. He wouldn’t have dreamed of it. He gripped San’s waist the hand that was previously entangled in his hair, increasing his rhythm until San was crying his name. He felt his ass clench around his dick as San came, thick streaks of cum painting the couch white. 

Yunho thrust in to the hilt, and San nearly buckled beneath him at the sudden length. Yunho cursed and grunted as he spilled over inside of San, who was still clenching around him, increasing every nerve in his body exponentially. 

San collapsed onto the couch as Yunho slid out, carefully avoiding the cum-stained upholstery. 

“Fuck,” Yunho cursed, realizing what he’d done to the couch. In his lustful frenzy, he hadn’t exactly considered the consequences of his action. “I’ll have to clean that up before she wakes up…”

San managed to smirk through his heavy panting, “It’s a good thing I’m the demon maid. I know where all the cleaning supplies are.”

Yunho rolled his eyes, slipping into the bathroom to clean himself up and bandage up the remaining wound on his shoulder. When he re-emerged, San was dressed, knees visibly wobbly as he scrubbed the cum stain off the couch. 

“What a good little maid,” Yunho teased. “You look cute on your knees like that.”

“You would know,” San jeered back. 

Yunho glanced at Y/N’s coconut oil, making a mental note to replace it for her before she had a chance to use it, though chances were she wouldn't even notice if it disappeared. She wasn’t exactly the “cooking-at-home” type.

“We… we don’t talk about this again,” Yunho said carefully as San removed the last traces of their earlier sinful endeavor. Now that he wasn’t so clouded with blind lust for San, he had a moment to reflect on his terrible choices for the night. Not that he regretted it. Not even a single second.

“Okay, angel boy. Whatever you say. But if you ever want to do it again, you know where to find me,” San responded, flashing his fangs and a cheeky wink. And there was the San he knew. 

The two never ended up talking. San left just as quickly as he’d appeared: without a trace, like he was never even there. It felt like some sort of fever dream as soon as he was gone, although Yunho knew for a fact he had never gone to sleep. He tidied up the rest of the living room, rearranging the pillows on the couch, making sure it looked like San was never there—in fact, he made it look like he’d never left Y/N’s room in the first place. 

Yunho slipped back into the room, carefully turning the knob, and found her exactly as he left her, somehow undisturbed despite how loud they’d been for the past few… well, however long it had been, Yunho supposed. 

Yunho shook all thoughts of San away, only just realizing how exhausted he’d been from the rigorous exercise he’d just partaken in. But as he closed his eyes to sleep, he only saw San, the mental image of him on his knees, glancing up at Yunho through messy strands of raven hair, lips swollen, eyes dark and lustful. 

This was going to be harder than he thought.

#san smut #yunho smut #yunsan #yunsan smut #ateez smut #idol x idol #ateez slash #ateez fic #ateez smut fic #ateez yunsan #yunsan fic #choi san smut #yunho x san #san x yunho #jeong yunho smut #smut

[namjoonchronicles]

bones | nj

↳ pairing namjoon, reader

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship

↳ words 3.0k

↳ summary namjoon’s only dream is to change the world, and sometimes when he couldn’t, he would turn to no one. even as it eats him up, spit him out and left him lifeless. the greatest mistake in love is to hand someone else the responsibility to your happiness, but is it really a mistake?

↳ warning depression; loosely inspired by the recent the return of superman show

↳ song shawn mendes ‘wonder’, maggie lindemann ‘couple of kids’

↳ author’s note new year greetings came four days late this year, sorry about that... i was searching for a suitable theme to write, so i opt for a non-serious one. i planned to engage in a 7-day writing challenge this week, starting with namjoon on monday. wish me luck! and happy reading! <3

“Please turn them off…” the deep grovel of his voice took you by surprise. It wasn’t like you to not have noticed when he walked in. The television had the show ‘The Return of Superman’ playing. By the sound of the troubling huff he let out, as he stood, hanging his long coat on the coat hanger, it seemed like he had a rough day. He didn’t look at you in the eye when he walked in, and it seemed like he would like to disappear today. You blinked to the view of his back disappearing into the hallway to the right, heading to his home studio. Hanging your face down to your lap, you pointed the remote to the screen and it turned to a black screen. Long story short, the kids in the show wanted to see him. And long story short, they weren’t able to reach a meeting point resulting in the kids meeting another artist instead. By the looks of it, Namjoon isn’t taking it lightly. By the looks of it, he seemed a little disappointed. And for that, you don’t really know how to interfere, or if he wanted you to.

Namjoon and you really stood in the grey area sometimes, when it comes to trespassing each other’s boundaries. It’s really difficult to read him sometimes, because he keeps so much to himself. It was something you both mutually understand when you both ended up together. The go-no-go point had always been a grey. There’s so much at stake and your intricated mind combined with his sometimes doesn’t allow room for negotiation. When something like this happens, you have to analyse where he stands. And sometimes you miss your hit. The more time you miss, the more frightened you are where the next one comes. They say, if you don’t have to watch your words with someone, you’ve found the right one. But when it comes to Namjoon, you refuse to say the wrong words because you don’t want to hurt him. Not after all he’s been through. So you took light, careful steps towards the door to his home studio. Watching him bended over his chair, mouse running wild. His face shone by the light from the computer screen.

“Hey,” you softly whispered. Leaning your face against the door frame, hand clasping the edges of the door.

He hollowed his cheek, tutted his tongue out and said, “Hey” to the screen instead. A short silence followed. Then,

“I didn’t know they were coming to see me. They lied to those kids saying they’ll meet me, and they didn’t. They must have felt so betrayed.” He hung his head low. He rubs his nose. “What can you do? It’s a show… It doesn’t make you a bad person,” your voice, gentle, persuasive as ever. It was the only way you think would get to him.

Since when did it matter what others think of him? You would be foolish to say that. Knowing Namjoon as long as you did, you know criticism no matter how constructive or harsh, they dent the same deep to him. Be it his music, be it his words. Silence from his side, yet again. Moving away you decided to say one last thing for his consideration.

“There’s always more than one way… My husband used to tell me,” you shut the door behind you, a lopsided smile on your lips.

Stunted by the pitch darkness he sat in, your words resonated in his mind and he looked down the keyboards and grinned. You are right, there’s always more ways than one.

More ways than one. To say that Namjoon had a perfect childhood would be vastly inaccurate. His brilliant mind was not without a cost. You both hid behind words you didn’t say. The pain that felt so familiar and the fear that is mutual. For a while, he somehow convinced you to push through. And with him, the glass is always half full. And by glass full, Namjoon’s quiet determination and drive would inspire you to keep going. When he is sound asleep at night, the dim light draws the shape of his body, you would place your palm on one side of his face, thumbing his cheek, just to feel him there. His breathings would slow down. His most vulnerable state, and just hours ago, he was reading to you a poem he wrote. The stirs would stop and you pulled the blankets further up his chin. You brushed his bangs back and placed a kiss on his forehead, letting your lips linger a second longer than usual. It just felt a while. Like it was a dream.

Gravitating towards Namjoon, it only seemed natural. The bike nights rides along the Han River, he bulleted through the summer night breeze while you opened your arms wide sitting behind him. The moon and the stars were witness to it all. He blew air bubbles to the sky while you tried to catch them all with your open palm. Sitting on the grass, his arms around your waist. You were falling heavenly, recklessly. Sharing lilac cotton candy, and meeting each other's lips through it. He tasted like cotton candy, sticky and sweet. You could feel him smile against your lips. “We can’t save everyone, Joonie,” you spoke softly, “Those we can, we could…”

With his shut eye, he said, “I did all that I could… but why didn’t it feel enough?”

It’s a terrible thing to feel helpless. To feel restricted, to feel limited. The barricades are held up and for someone like Namjoon who is adamant to strike barriers head on, there seems to be places he couldn’t break through. And that feeling is discouraging. It is limiting and groundless. Namjoon is determined to make changes in the world, wherever it fits. There are places he couldn’t go though, despite the remarkable footsteps he had already pioneered. Namjoon is brave, relentless. He refused surrender and the louder his voices are, the more shackles they put on his ankles. It is only due time that he would explode. He just had hearts too big for his body, and if you think he doesn’t have more to give, you’re wrong. He is as possessive to the things that are his, you just need to name it.

Possessive. The word would seem so harsh. But it was everything Namjoon is. You had just bawled the night away for having to marry a family friend’s son who had gotten divorce from two of his wives. You had never been so scared because not only was the man twice older than you are, he was also your tutor when you were 15. He had been eyeing on you since then, and it disgusted you so. With no words from Namjoon for days after you told him the story, your faith in him was fading. You felt so unprotected and sold away by your own parents. No one cared. The next day, the predator will come and he will take your hand in marriage whether you want it or not. You considered running away. But where would you go? Anywhere would have been just fine.

That same night Namjoon stormed into your parent’s house, drenched in the rain, pounding on the door. Then you heard your father open the front door to the porch.

“I may not be the son-in-law you dreamt of, nor am I a perfect son to my parents. I have nothing to give her. I am not adequate but I have dreams larger than myself, and that dream is to have your daughter as my wife. I am not the son-in-law you want, but I am the husband your daughter needs. My name is Kim Namjoon and I cannot let her marry anyone else but me.”

His wedding vows were immaculate. The night before your wedding, you asked him, “You want to take care of my heart?”

“Absolutely,” he said, without an ounce of hesitation and crinkly eyes, with a big smile.

When you think about those impeccable moments, you know his devotion is pure. That’s why loving him is easy and difficult.

What do you like most about me? What an odd thing to ask. Watching the people cross the road as the traffic light turned red for them. The fine dust reading shoots off the roof again today. The wedding ring on your ring finger, curled around the steering wheel of your worn out car. The diamond catching the light, decorating the roof of your car with little rainbows. You smiled to your chest then to the side. When is it ever not strange when it comes to Namjoon. Of course he had to ask you the easiest yet the most difficult question as you were rushing out the door with minutes to spare. Hopping on one feet, holding on to his stomach to keep your balance.

But you couldn’t forget those eyes. Those pleading eyes. Felt like it mattered to his life what your answers were.

The light turns green. You dropped the brakes and gently pressed on the accelerator. It could have been easily his heart, or his mind, mostly both. And possibly everything in between; no, most definitely everything in between. Or is it his arms, that feels like an asylum or a fortress, depending on the situation? Or his lips, with the things it says or the things it does? Or his ears that continue to earnestly listen to you whining or screaming or the static silence he demanded to make sense of?

Why did it have to be what he offers you? Why can’t  you love him for what he didn’t offer you?

The answers aren’t simple at all.

And as the answer you said loomed over you, hours on end at work and through lunch and important meetings, you feel like the clock is ticking in your ear. Why didn’t you look at his expressions when you left? What were you rushing for? You made it on time but you left things unsettled at home. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right at all.

“Namjoon, you’re a firework.” The words you threw ringing in his ear like it was only yesterday, since he said he wanted you. It was the most remarkable, most detrimental, most damaging words he had ever heard someone say to him. It didn’t help that he was deeply enthralled by you. He was broken, so beautifully broken. The way his edges are both sharp and blunt and in patterns unique to him; he was a deliberately planned masterpiece. He understood what you said; and you talk in riddles he is fluent in. You hide in metaphors and intricate words of a poet. Your true feelings never fully revealed. Sometimes he feels like he is walking in circles, or falling in a bottomless pit. Sometimes he feels like he’s found home away from home and finally talking in a language someone spoke.

Firework. It could be a compliment and an insult. They are the prettiest in the darkest night, the glittering lights, the adrenaline inducing sound of explosion; always the highlight of a celebration, an achievement, the peak--everything good in life. But when the fireworks ended, the darkness loomed again, the adrenaline fell as the silence grew; anticipations dug its grave with each moment passing without sound--excitement, plummeting to the ground. Fireworks are temporary happiness. You said you were a mere spectator. It was both a compliment and an insult. Namjoon realised that what he projected wasn’t the same thing you were looking for. You wanted forever. He looked in your eyes the same way he looked at you when you left for work this morning; with longing he didn’t quite fathom the depth of.

When he sits in his room, getting lost in the words carried by the author, he forgets about all the things that worry him. With the desktop lit up of a wallpaper of you mashing his face between your hands, face so close to each other, smiling contently, behind him. This house is littered with love. They are in the walls, on the floor and all over the ceiling.

“I am terrified of you,” you said, laying next to him in bed one night. It felt like an untimely confession. The words he never expected from you. At first, he thought it was due to how intimidating he looks. He’s almost six feet tall, he frowns at everything, almost tactlessly blunt to anything about quality-- terrified is a weak word. He looks like he hates everything and won’t stay behind for anything that doesn’t interest him. But it wasn’t. Your fear was not from how he is built but the way that he stayed. You always expected people to leave after a certain time spent. But he just keeps coming back and everytime he does, you get scared.

“I had never had anyone stay that long before,” you looked up at the ceiling while he looked at you, counting your eyelashes.

“I don’t know what to do…” you turned to him and casted your eyes downwards, “People like you aren’t supposed to be with people like me.”

Everyone deals with pain differently. In the commotion of a subway station, in front of the crowded cafes, the congested road and the beeping from the cashier’s counter. These faces staring at the floor, these fast-paced steps, the little jogs to the closing elevator door. The beginning of the year always feels overwhelming. The expectation is high, the spirits and passion is off the roof. Guess it was the disappointment that scares you the most. How many years did January begin the same way and December had it all taken away or drained till you are hollow on the inside?

A pair of supple lips, butterfly kisses trail up your shoulders to your cheek, a pair of strong arms snaked around your hips, pulling you in a rib-cage squeezing hug. A smile grew on your lips.

“What are you thinking so hard of, it's’ not even noon yet?” the deep grovel of his voice disrupted your train of thoughts, much to your dismay. Then you switch to face him, pointing your index finger to the ceiling as his hand rests on your bum.

“There’s a time in your life that you’re scared of me pushing you away when you kiss me,” your eyes twinkle at him and he wanes in his stance.

“Why are you making me nervous so early in the morning?” throwing his head back, showing you his frustration, “We’re married now, you can’t push me away…I wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

When the light caught his luminacing brown eyes, you thought about how astonishing it was; to be loved, to be understood, to be broken and healed at the same time--all by the same set of eyes. The way it catches the sun, rain and storm. There’s something a pair of eyes could say without words.

In autumn, when those eyes cried a river, head filled with broken dreams and dreaded nights, and you caught the net, the whirl of the still moments stole your spineless sanity. The dizzying concoction of despair and anger the year had. And in a few more days, the new year will come. With every year passing, the more you dreaded the things you didn’t do. You blame yourself for the things you couldn’t change. The year felt like a dream; floating in the air, weightless. With no stone to keep you in place, you wandered like a lost soul, the only thing familiar was those lumineering brown eyes. Those eyes, when you see them--home.

As he sat there, talking, endlessly, chuckling, showing you his phone screens and wishes he got for both of you, you drifted into space. You didn’t hear a thing he said, you just, existed. And you watched him, in all that he is. All the troubled nights he didn’t speak to you about, the pain he hid away, the things he didn’t say and everything he felt. Then you think about all the times that he saved you when you’re in pain. When his hugs were as strong as the deteriorating war in your head, when his whispers were louder than the demons, and the hand he held tighter than the things you couldn’t fight against. There’s forever in his eyes. And you hadn’t seen that in years.

In winter, when the cold is numbing and the only thing warm is his breaths, the world is white in snow and those eyes searching the crowds land on you and turn into a pair of crescents. No stones left unturned, the battles he faced-- Namjoon was the war you chose. It was then you realised that even if the world collides and the ground turns to skies, it's his hand you want to hold. Driving along the same route you came from, your tired eyes in the reflection of the rearview mirror, you heard yourself asking, “What do you love most about you?”

Namjoon. Loving Namjoon is what I love most about me.

He shows you that no matter how self centred you were, you were capable of infinite love.

Namjoon might have lain awake for hours before you did. Arduously, he loved. Silently, he thought. In his mind, he would have kissed you awake. Then, when he asked you what you loved most about him, he least expected a deep answer, not at the time frame that was given to you. He felt found and kept safe. He found forever in you. No words would have sufficed. 

“Bones.” “Bones?” “Bones… I love your bones. They make up everything you are.”

Curling his arms around your waist while you sleep soundly, he nudges his face in the back of your hair as he pulls you close. These bones love you too. Ferociously, immensely, profoundly. . . . . . Namjoon sent a video to the kids that wanted to see him that day. The kids are more excited than ever. They may not have met, but Namjoon’s sincerity flourished through the video message. You are absolutely right, there’s always more ways than one. We can’t save everyone, but we could save those we can. .

.

.

.

copyright © january 4th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for your time

#bones #moonchildnetwork #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #btsguild #thekimlinenet #kimnamjoonnet #thekimlinenetwork #established relationship #namjoon fics #kim namjoon fics #kim namjoon #namjoon ff #bts rm ff #bts fluff #bts angst #bts namjoon #rm fics #rm fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bangtan fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #bangtan fluff #knj #knj fics #knj fic #knj fanfic #husband namjoon

[emilbecker]

—  SELF PARA,  2019 CHARITY GALA.

marcus and emil meet for the first time. featuring jessica reyes & marcus reyes.

to both their reliefs, there had never been reason to meet. the two knew of each other, to emil, he sees a rich man with no heart, and no real desire to be liked. marcus sees someone with a little too much to prove, overcompensating. but for what, he hasn't cared to figure out. 

it's through jessica that they meet. a charity gala that marcus dreads, but when has he ever not put on a brave face? marcus endures time wasting and frankly mind numbing circle jerking and chatting, mostly at his sister's vivacious side. without jessica to whisper amused judgements to as they move from group to group, marcus would be spending far more time in a bathroom smoking. it's the next group that makes his interest take a sharp dive. jessica speaks excitedly about emil becker, but more so their twin, penny. a name that's made its way into marcus' conscience on more than one occasion. 

but it's emil who's most displeased about the two figures approaching, one considerably more so than the other. emil turns to penny with a laugh, effortlessly making his shit talking look like nothing of note at all. against his twin's ear, they whisper, “fucking pray for me, fuck this guy.” penny manages an equally unassuming laugh and shows off her mastered art of elbowing them without being noticed by anyone else. emil in turn, holds back a reaction to keep for later. maybe they'll mess up the letters on penny's fridge door next time they're over. 

becker's and reyes' meet and two very different things happen. penny and jessica embrace and immediately their conversation turns to their outfits. emil and marcus however, are two fortresses in each other's way. marcus doesn't want to engage for jessica's sake, and emil for penny's (and their reputation for being the friendliest one in the room). there are far more traits shared than either would like to face: the violence; the manipulation; the lying. it's the worst of themselves that they share, but swimming around with all that horror, is their shared will. 

but only one of them knows the full extent. 

marcus faces death with arrogance, and it won't be his last time. the two exchange firm handshakes and bright smiles while their sisters forget their existence. it feels like a personal attack to emil, making a note to hide all the letters on penny's fridge for dumping him with marcus fucking reyes. rationality says penny couldn't be held accountable when she doesn't know the extent of marcus' crimes, but the sibling bond pushes rationality harshly to the side.

“wonderful to finally meet you!” emil lies, “marcus, isn't it?” emil sees the serpents grin they're met with for what it is.

“pleasure's mine, emil. i'm a big fan of your work,” marcus lies. in reality, emil is a bug who makes too much noise, and if that noise begins to follow marcus, he'll gladly crush the nation's darling under his heel.

can't say the same for you. emil grins with a modest and tolerable pride, but lets the faintest hint of condescension cling to his next words. “thanks. i love your jacket, who designed it?” intuition tells emil that marcus wouldn't appreciate them reaching for the intricately jeweled jacket and feeling over the patterns, so they do it. 

“oh, it's balmain,” marcus responds through razor sharp, gritted teeth. the contact isn't appreciated but marcus doesn't allow himself to react other than let his sinister smile bloom.

 “oh, balmain. didn't they put blackface on the runway this year? anyway, penny, are you seeing this?” emil calls over his shoulder, “i want a jacket like this.” penny shoots him a smile that emil knows the real meaning of, i'll make you something better. “really suits you, though, marcus,” even there, there's a hint of what can only be disgust. perhaps not even the immaculate emil becker can keep his contempt for people like marcus reyes at bay, at least not while anyone else is watching. 

“that's very kind of you, emil, but please, the flattery isn't necessary,” he says graciously, hiding an avalanche of annoyance behind it, “but to contradict myself, really must commend you on the zuckerberg interview. you really fillited him like a fish.” he forces amusement on his features, eliciting an animated laugh from emil who throws their head back before their hand catches marcus' shoulder again. get the fuck off me.

“you have no idea how fun that was. this is top secret but i had to slip in a few questions that weren't ‘agreed upon’. makes for great tv, y'know.” emil's wink only proves to grate him further. 

“your secret's safe with me, becker,” marcus teases with a smooth drawl, meanwhile trying to catch jessica's attention to give her the look of i'm tired of these people, let's move on please, but he doesn't catch her. is she avoiding his eyes on purpose?

“good man. oh! you're ravi's husband, aren't you? his style is really something else, i've not had that much fun talking about fashion with someone in years. will you tell him that? i didn't catch a way to contact him last time we bumped into each other. truly impeccable taste, that one. and i guess you, too.” another wink shows itself and marcus wants to rip it from emil's pretty features. “or i can save you the relaying and tell him myself,” emil suggests, pulling their phone from their bag with a smile marcus swears is patronising. 

“why don't you give me your number and i'll pass it onto ravi?” marcus proposes sweetly, but emil sees the possessiveness, and it makes his already low opinion of marcus sink further. 

“if you wanted my number, mr reyes, all you had to do is ask.” with a smirk, emil leaves his number in marcus' phone, not at all betting that it'll make its way to the intended recipient. and he's right. marcus will delete the smug talk show host's number in the car ride home.

finally, the sisters break away and relief washes over marcus and emil. marcus shoots jessica a quick look of how could you leave me with them for so long? while emil is relieved to have penny paying attention to him again. 

“it was lovely meeting you, marcus. jess, it's a pleasure as always. we should go talk to my bosses, tryin' to drag this one on the show some day,” he says, nodding at penny, “send ravi my love!” with an air kiss blown to both reyes', the becker twins take their leave.

“don't leave me with him ever again. i mean it,” marcus grumbles as he and jess move in the opposite direction.

#( e.b. ) character study. #yeah i rlly wrote this bs instead of replies #here have your fake bitches

[enigma-im]

The Less I Know The Better

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Imp!Black x F!Yellow Warning: Attempted murder, Among us fanfic, Monster sex, horror, comfort, angst, i’m not sorry

Word Count: 4916

      Boyfriends can bring comfort, monster boyfriends can bring...

---------------------

"Hey, Blake, can you help me with coms? I've been stuck on that silly little radio for a while," I rock on my toes, hands clasped behind my back as I await his answer. For a good moment, he looks mostly confused, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open. It's curious, what is there to be so conflicted about?

"What," he gawks.

"Coms," I answer slowly," can you help?"

Blake stares down at me, looking sort of angry under the blatant confusion. I grow embarrassed having asked him. We don't talk much or anything, merely coworkers and nothing more. Perhaps I'm pushing a boundary I had no idea existed.

"Uh, sure," he answers almost like a question.

"Great," I perk up, twisting on my heel to walk away. I feel him reluctantly follow, throwing his hands into his tied off jumpsuit pockets. I toss a glance over my shoulder, giving him a bright smile of appreciation. He grunts in response.

We walk- more like I lead- to coms, awkward silence occupying the time. I stop over by the little frustrating radio to wait for Blake. He stops in the middle of the room, looking nervous but still. It's strange seeing his shoulder tick and his fingers fidget in his pockets but his face is so neutral.

"You ok," I ask. His forearm stiffens, barely noticeable fists clenched within his pockets.

"I'm fine," he says terse," what do you need my help on?"

I jump on the topic change, turning back to the radio. I turn it on, the horrid static blaring around the silent room. Wincing, I turn the volume down and begin fiddling with the knobs.

"Layla switched jobs with me this week because she is trying to get close to Bucky- which is understandable- and now I have the task of making sure the radio is up and operational. Which shouldn't be a hard job, just turn it on and off. Yet, lucky me, I have a radio that doesn't want to connect to anything and I don't know what to do," I answer, flicking the knobs this way and that. Listening closely to the change in static I just barely catch the sound of something wet snapping. I stop, curious above all else. The sound echoes again with a rip.

I twist around to the room, looking to Blake who is standing still in the middle of the room. He looks tense and his black shirt is askew with a single tear by his hip.

"Oh," I gasp," Your shirt? What happened?"

"Nothing," he answers shortly," let me see the radio an-"

I walk over, interrupting him," nonsense, I'm pretty good with sewing as my mother taught me when I was young. I'm sure I can fix that up. Accidents happen and I'm pretty sure Dax keeps an extra shirt around here." as I ramble I grab his shirt, looking to the tear with trained eyes. I'm sure I can fix this by tomorrow.

"uh," he keeps his arms away from me, uncomfortable to the max," ok."

I look to him, smiling sweetly before walking away in search of a clean shirt. I fiddle in a drawer, finding a dark green t-shirt for him to wear.

"This should do, you and Dax are big dudes," I hand him the shirt," I know you prefer wearing black but green would still be a good look for you. It will bring out your eyes and make you look quite handsome."

Blake seems lost as he grabs the shirt. He mutters a thanks, looking away flustered. I want to coo but keep the urge to myself. He grabs the hem of his shirt, hefting it over his body. I squeak, turning around with my own flustered face.

He changes quickly, handing me the shirt in his normal bored expression. Not wanting to dwell on the matter any longer he walks to the radio, twisting the knobs expertly.

It seems like ever since that day in coms Blake is always nearby. It's a huge comfort as conflict engulfs the crew. Rumor has gone around that there are two imposters aboard the Skeld. People barely paid it any mind till the first body was found in the med bay. I hardly knew the lad, only recognized them by their bright orange jumpsuit. Since then I have appreciated the company of Blake.

An alarm rings around the ship as Blake lends a hand in Reactor. We both look around, me more nervous than him. It's when a neutral voice calls for an employee meeting that I settled a bit. Blake and I walk to the cafeteria, meeting with the rest of the crew at the center table. Once we all are seated, Charlie talks.

"Another body has been found between electrical and the engine," Charlie says solemnly. I stiffen at his words, worried above all else that it was so near. "Was anyone near there, did anyone see anything," he asks.

The group murmurs amongst themselves, giving each other alibis and recounts. I look around, thinking to myself that I should speak up. Lifting my arm to speak of my whereabout Blake grabs my wrist.

"Don't," he whispers.

"Don't?" he nods, clenching my hand down to the bench. I curiously look from him to Charlie, conflicted. "Why not," I ask," We were near and if we can bring any information then it's a start in finding the imposter."

"It also puts a big target on your back so just keep quiet unless specifically asked," he snaps through clenched teeth. I gawk at him, not paying a bit of mind to a few crewmates recounting what they were doing while the body was being discovered.

I silently seethe to myself, feeling like a traitor by keeping information to myself. We didn’t see anything, having our backs to the hallway, but telling Charlie that could help figure out which way the imposter could have gone. It's not good to keep such information to yourself at a time like this.

With no details added the meeting is dismissed with everyone more on edge. I quickly depart from the cafeteria, wanting to get away from Blake for now. Marching to my room I don't even notice when the man I wish to avoid is standing at my door. I flop down onto my bed, feeling stressed and anxious.

"You're mad," Blake grunts. I startle, twisting to my side to look at him. He stands tall, unfazed by the announcement of another dead crewmate. His dark grease backed hair is immaculate like usual. The fact that not a single hair is loose seems unfair to the situation.

"Yes," I bark," I'm mad."

"Why," he asks, stepping further into the room.

I gawk at him," why do you think I'm mad? One of our crewmates is dead and you don't want me telling anyone where I was because you think it will put a mark on my back! It shouldn't matter, I didn't kill them but I was close by. I could have been useful."

Blake's lip twitches towards a sneer. His hands leave his pockets in favor of crossing his arms. He looks annoyed, which is better than looking bored. Good, he finally acts like he feels something about all this.

"Did you see anything? Did you hear someone walk by? Truly, do you think you have anything important to say that won't paint you as a potential suspect," he snaps, leaning towards me as he angrily shouts his point. I sit up in bed, throwing my arms up in exasperation.

"No, but i-," I try to explain.

"No," he walks over to the bed," you don't have anything that could have been even remotely useful. Saying nothing was almost the same outcome as saying anything. The only difference is you would have been watched and targeted by the true murderer. It's easy to paint you as the imposter when people are already looking your way and I will not let that happen." he is nearly face to face with me, towering over me easily. His ire is almost enough to silence me. He makes good points but it's not enough for my frustrated self.

"Why should it matter to you if I want to let myself be targeted like that? It's not your job to keep me safe," I stand strong, keeping myself confident in my argument.

"It is my job to keep you safe," he snaps, growling under his breath.

I get up in his face, feeling his breath over my cheeks," Why?"

He stutters," Because- it's cau- I- fuck." his shoulder sag, sighing as he grabs my shoulders. Before I can even blink his lips are on mine. My heart stutters along with my breath, shocking me to my core. I don't have time to react before he is pulling away, the ghost feeling of his warm lips on mine.

Blake opens his mouth to answer, lifting his hands off my shoulder as he struggles to speak. Before he can get too far I panic, reaching out and grabbing his shirt collar. I tug him back, leaning up to kiss him.

It's not magical or special but it feels right. The comfort he gives makes everything disappear as our mouths dance together. I like his warmth, I love his taste. Though my anger dwells in the back of my mind I don't care enough to split. Right now is perfect, even though a true surprise.

The next week is easier to deal with as I have Blake by my side. His ever-present self brings a sort of ease to the chaos around us. The bodies stack up as the killer continues their spree and when the stress becomes too much I can rely on Blake to calm me down.

"This is getting ridiculous," Charlie snaps, running his fingers through his hair for the hundredth time," soon we are going to be outnumbered by theses dickheads, we have to pick someone. Randy, you have had eyes on everything, who do you suspect?"

We all look to Randy," I don't want to be the one pointing fingers here but I have barely seen pinkie here on cams."

Peter gasps, sneering at Randy," So you think I did it just because you don't know where I am every second of the day? How about Lesha? She has been the one to report the body almost every time, seems kind of sus to me."

"Fuck you, Peter," Lesha shouts," don't be pointing that finger at me. I can't help that none of you walk the ship, like, at all."

"Walking the ship and killing people seems like a better waste of your time than fixing the constantly sabotaged O2," Peter barks back.

"Yea, well how about bumblebee over there," she points to Blake and I," those two have been together nonstop, looks like we found our two imposters right there."

"What," I gawk," we have been keeping an eye on one another, doing our tasks. Blake has helped me with so many difficult jobs."

Charlie hums," interesting that you don't seem to understand how to do these simple tasks. The fact that Blake has to basically do them all for you seems rather sus. Clearly, an imposter wouldn't know how to accurately know how to do the jobs us crewmates have been trained for." the group nods, agreeing with his statement. I can only sit back in surprise as everyone turns their gaze to me. My crewmates, people I have worked with for a while, are now turning on me. All of them pointing their fingers to me. What can I do now? I have no alibi or excuse.

I fall to my misfortune, gawking at them all. I have nowhere to run or to escape. These people I have shared so much with is going to shoot me out the nearest airlock without any regret. All I can do is hang my head in defeat.

"She has been with me and hasn't off-ed me," Blake answers casually," clearly if she was the imp then she would have slashed my neck when she had the chance. Believe me, she has had many chances." I don't dare to hope.

The group mutters amongst themselves. It's ultimately Charlie who they all look to, waiting for his final verdict.

Charlie hums in thought, watching me with eagle eyes. "That is very fair. You two have been alone often, it seems like a likely excuse. Our best bet is to keep an eye on her, wait for her to make her move."

The sigh of relief is short-lived as the accusatory eyes lock on me. I think I'll be having a great deal of company this day forward.

In just a few days my ultimate stress has been reached. Every turn I take I'm watched by crewmates, laser focus on my every move. Blake does his best to settle the crew, keeping them at a distance while I work. It's a little relief but I appreciate it all the same. Though walking out of my room every night to someone lounging against the wall nearby brings everything to a head. I will live like this till I'm truly accused or murder by the actual killer.

Blake and I walk to my room, two crewmates following further behind. When we reach my door Blake shoos them away with a promise to watch over me tonight. The two grumble in agreement, marching off.

"Thanks," I mumble, walking into my room.

"hardly something that needs thanks," he grumbles as he follows me in.

We lounge in my bed, looking at my tablet a bit. It's when I'm left staring at the screen for a solid minute that Blake bumps my shoulder.

"You alright," he asks. I chew my cheek, not wanting to reveal the true levels of stress I'm living with.

"As alright as I can be," I shrug. I look back to my tablet, flipping through messages. Blake grabs the tablet from my hands, tossing it aside.

"You can talk to me," he turns on his side," I can't say I'll be much help but I can lend an ear." I turn to him, meeting his charming green eyes. He truly is handsome. I try to tell him that often, adoring the blush that gifts me every time. Though he has bags under his eyes and a rather rude disposition, I treasure his constant presence.

I sigh, closing my eyes," it's hard dealing with all this distrust. Like, I've worked around these people for months. We have joked and laughed together, taught one another. It's depressing."

Blake doesn't answer, making the words linger for a bit. Anxiety bubbles in my chest until I feel him shift closer. He grabs at my hips, turning me towards him. I open my eyes in time to see him lean up and press a kiss to my forehead.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with all this," he mumbles, laying back down against the pillow. Minimal relief floods my chest. He may not have a way with words but he nails the tenderness.

"it's ok, we will figure this out in the end," I reach up and pat his cheek. He turns and kisses my palm, his thumb petting at my hips as he does. I can't help myself, I lunge up to kiss him. He startles when my lips touch his, his fingers clenching my body a bit too tight. Despite his preparedness, he eagerly returns the gesture.

We have made out like a bunch of teenagers before but right now I need more. I crave more from him, greedy as it feels. I pull at his collar, leaning back while guiding him over me. He catches on, pressing his body over mine while sliding his tongue into my mouth. I mew in approval, gripping his shirt to bring him closer.

"Blake," I groan into his mouth. He stiffens, retreating a small distance. I meet his eyes, seeing his confliction. Reaching around I pet at his cheek, softening to his blight. "You alright," I ask," we don't have to do anything you don’t want."

He shakes from his stupor," No, it's just- no, we can keep going."

He falls back into the motions, kissing and licking my lips with more eagerness than before. His hips grind slowly into mine, pressing his hard-on into my crotch. We groan and grope, reaching under the other's shirt. I scratch at his chest while he slowly pets up to my chest.

Before he can touch at my bra I push him up. He goes, stiffening once more in worry. Instead of comforting him, I take off my shirt, tossing it aside with a teasing smile. His eyes dart towards my chest, gulping while his fingers curl near my waist.

Worried, I reach for him," You alright?". His answer is to drop his head and bury his face in my cleavage. "I'll take that as a yes," I laugh. He kisses and nibbles at my boobs, reaching around and unclasping my bra. Leaning back he throws the pesky clothing away, falling back to take a nipple into his mouth. His warm mouth and soothing tongue makes my back arch, pulling a groan from my mouth.

"you like this," he asks, nuzzling his cheek to my boob.

I pet his head," yea, but I think it's your turn now."

He sits up," my turn?"

"yep," I pop the p, fisting his shirt in my hand to give it a tug. He catches on, swiftly pulling off his shirt. I eagerly look him over, admiring his firm chest and light pooch of his stomach. I reach out and trace a finger down his chest towards his pants. Hooking my finger over the waistband I tug, throwing a cheeky eyebrow raised in question.

"You first," he asks, grabbing my waistband. I smile in answer, pulling my feet up as he tugs my jumpsuit bottoms down. After he tosses the bottoms away he swiftly removes my underwear, not paying them a bit of mind as he looks at my crotch with awe. In a trance, he falls to his stomach, tugs at my thighs, and dives in.

"Oh-oh damn," I say shocked at his hunger. His tongue danced over my clit, lapping up my slick with great vigor. I can't help but writhe under his assault, reaching down to grasp his head. I grind into his mouth, almost tormented by his tongue. He lathers my cunt in sweet, sweet attention. It's shocking how quickly he drives me out of my mind. I can hardly believe it.

His tongue soon circles at my entrance, exploring the space timidly. He then shoves his tongue inside me, giving the same vigorous attention. He thrusts and wriggles, bringing me closer and closer to a climax. As I lose myself in bliss I can faintly feel his tongue reach deeper, swelling in girth. I can't bring myself to care as I cry out, nearly ripping his hair from his head as I cum on his face. Choking on my cries of pleasure.

"Blake, oh- stop," I pant, lazily pressing against him. It takes a second for him to catch on, drinking from the new tap. He shoots off, lifting his head sharply.

"Sorry," he grins," was a… tasty experience." his eyes drop back to my crotch, drooling a bit as he gravitates towards me.

"no, no sir," I grab his arm and lift him back over me," I have a different craving than your tongue right now."

"Is that right," he chuckles, leaning in for a kiss.

"oh yeah, you think you can supply me with what I need," I cup his head, kissing him. He hums in answer, awkwardly kicking off his pants. I don't get a chance to say anything before he is resting at my entrance, his tip nudging excitedly. He leans back enough to meet my eyes, asking without words. I nod.

Not looking away he bucks forward, sheathing himself swiftly. We both cry out, startled at the pleasure. His head falls to my shoulder, panting hard. I come back to myself in the meantime, petting at his back. I can feel his body flex, his shoulder twitching and tightening. His chest feels like it swells as his labored breathing ghosts over my chest.

"you alright, dear," I ask, pressing my cheek against his.

"yea," he answers quickly," just- just need a second."

"Take your time," I hug him closer.

He needs longer than a second to reel himself in. slowly his body stops twitching and tightening. Timidly he arches his hips back, bucking forward with a relieved sigh. He repeats, arching back and bucking forward. His tempo is timid but nice. I let him go at his own speed.

Blake holds me snuggly as he slowly fucks me. His cock glides smoothly in and out, squelching lightly each time he goes all in. I find pleasure in his body, listening to his grunts and sighs. I echo him, panting against his shoulder. Though I have to fight against the urge to buck my hips.

"Blake," I sigh, question sitting on the end of my tongue. As I say his name his body stiffens again, his hips stuttering with restrained vigor. It's clear now why he is so apprehensive. I turn to his ear, whispering," let go."

He stops breathing for a moment, his hips freezing as well. Frustration grows in my limbs as I wish for him to keep moving. With a kiss to my cheek, I get what I wish.

Blake's hip draws back almost far enough for him to fall out, slamming forward in a body shaking thrust. I yelp, my nails biting into his shoulders. He draws back again and quickly fills the space he departed. His tempo ups to an amazing degree, plowing into me. Our hips clap as I cry out over his shoulder.

We cry out together, rising in pleasure till we are damn near breaking. I hold him tightly, clenching up as my second orgasm of the night washes over me. He chokes, grunting as he fights through my tightening channel.

Blake is still chasing his finish as I fall back onto the bed, closing my eyes as I ride out my high. I listen to his grunts, pleased above all else.

His hips finally stutter as he cries out. He pumps a few more times till he stills, flooding my insides as he cums. I hum in content. Before I can open my eyes to watch him I hear a loud wet crack. I snap my eyes open looking up to a horrid sight.

"Oh my god," I shake. Blake is perched above me, looking less like himself. His face is cracked down to his neck, his tongue long and extruding from the gap. Sharp teeth line the wet appendage, some teeth visible within the gash. In the darkness behind him, I see an even larger appendage writhing around in the air. Some drool drips off the tip of his tongue, splatting against my sternum. It's enough to shock me into action.

I kick at his thighs, getting his cock out of me while crawling up the bed. As my foot nudges roughly against his thigh he opens his eyes to see my terrified face. With another crack his face rights itself, the gash snapping shut. The appendage behind him slithers back from where ever it came from with a wet snap.

"No," he grabs at me," no, no, it's ok." his tightly clasps my shoulders, pulling me back under him. "It's ok, I won't hurt you," he says panicked. I wiggle in his hold, trying to getaway. I slap at his chest, kick at his legs. He stops this by pinning my body. As I sit tightly in his arms he drops his head to mine, "Please, I won't hurt you. I won't hurt you, you are safe." he rambles these words over and over till I lose my fight.

I fall lack, sighing," Blake?"

"yes, it's me. It's Blake," he tries to smile," I'm me, it's ok."

We both take a moment to calm down, though my heart doesn't catch the message. I manage to convince him to let me go, though it took a lot of promises. It took a moment to find our clothes, putting them on as a reason to put off talking. Soon I'm sitting on the bed and he sits across the room in a chair.

The silence is awkward.

"So," I start," you're not human."

He chuckles without amusement," that's one way to put it."

"Well," I fiddle with my fingers," What are you?"

He sighs," an alien is a good enough term." him actually saying it makes my head hurt. He is an alien, I had sex with an alien. Oh god, I had sex with an alien. I drop my head into my hands with a drawn-out groan.

"This is a mess," I grumble in my hands. It's the truth, where do you go from here. I shake my head in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," Blake says, his chair screeching as he stands," I wanted to tell you but it's hard to just bring that up. Then I thought I could control myself during…well, that."

I scoff," you didn't seem to have control there at the end." I can't help but laugh at that, finding minimal humor in all this.

"Yea," he chuckles," I did not." we laugh a bit together, having a bit of normalcy before we fade off. We sit in silence once more. My brain races as thoughts creep back in. something clicks as I look to him.

"You're the imposter," I startle back," you killed those people, oh my god." I scramble back away from him, hitting my back against the wall. He panics, walking over to me with raised hands.

"No, I didn't do that. Yea, I'm the imposter everyone is hunting but I'm not like the other one. I couldn't even get the guts to kill you, how can i-," he freezes, straightening with tense shoulders.

"What," I curl up," you- you tried to kill me?"

"No," he answers quickly," well, yes, but I couldn't do it. You were so nice and peppy, too lovely to kill."

"Too lovely to kill? So if I was mean then I would be one of the dead launched out the airlock," I scoff," why should that be so special? Were you just trying to get in my pants or something? How can you expect me to believe any of this, this is outrageous."

"Don't accuse me of something I never did. I like you, plain and simple. Sure, if situations were different then maybe we wouldn't be here but we are now. You humans always ask 'what if' but don't settle with what is happening now. I'm sorry for not telling you, that will stay with me for a long time, but it's out now. So all I can say now is that I will keep you safe and I will never hurt you."

His outburst lingers in the air for a bit. His promise is heartwarming. Looking at him now I can nearly feel his sincerity. It's easy to believe him, though doubt wishes to taint it. I watch him for a moment, trying to fight for my ire. It's a losing battle. I sigh, dropping my head as I know I will forgive him. God, I hope this won't go wrong.

Blake and I become closer than ever as the crew searches far and wide for the true murderer. Blake swears up and down he has barely a clue on who the other person is, just having a faint idea. He keeps his suspicions to himself though, telling me that I have a bad poker face. Which… is true.

One night closes to an end with Blake walking me back to my room. We pass by electrical, hearing a strange noise. Sneaking inside we catch a glimpse of someone jumping out of the vent below. Swiftly Blake grabs me and runs out the room, whispering to me that the imposter dwells within the room. We shuffle out, hiding around by storage as the footsteps echo closer.

"Got to play casual," Blake suggests.

"How do we do that," I silently yell. As the steps near Blake grabs my shoulders, forces me against a storage bin, and kisses me. I catch on quickly, cupping the back of his head and hiking a leg over his hip. We listen closely to the steps, ready for the confrontation.

"I believe you two have a room for this kind of thing," a man calls from behind Blake. I pretend to startle away from Blake, laughing as I look over his shoulder.

"Sorry Charlie," I giggle," we got a little sidetracked."

"Yea, sorry Charlie," Blake mumbles as he sets me down, keeping himself between Charlie and me.

"Eh, all's well. Just head back to your room, it's late," he smiles kindly.

We depart from him, nodding as we pass. Our rush to my room is tense, listening for anyone following until we reach the sanctuary of my room.

A body is found that same night, a meeting taking place early the next morning. As we sit at the table Blake and I share a look as Charlie asks the group if they have any suspicions. Blake speaks first.

------------------

I wrote this strictly for the sex part. Everything else after that meant nothing to me. Also the guy taking control of the situation should always be sus. No one wants to be the leader in an Among us game unless they are the imp.

Didn’t like this one either, but i did have fun with the sex. cause i’m a thot.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#among us #monster boyfriend #cyan is sus #comfort #fear #exophilia #Enigma-IM #i highkey adore among us #two imps

[gothgirlmahi]

Pathetic

Dark!Carol Danvers x Reader

Summary: Carol is your boss who has a thing for you. You just want to keep your job.

For @sagechanoafterdark‘s Afterdark 2K Challenge Prompt: “Don’t even think about it.” Warnings: non con, mommy kink, humiliation and degradation 

“Hey, Ms. Danvers is calling for you,” one of your coworkers told you.

You wanted to slam your head into your desk. Of course you knew she wanted you in her office. She had texted you, saying she wanted you there earlier so you turned off your phone just to get some peace of mind. It would make her angry but it wasn’t like she was going to drag you from your desk. Probably not, anyway.

Now she was getting other people involved, which you really didn’t want. You gave your coworker a nod and began to clear up your space. It was nearly time to go home anyway and you had almost gotten through a day without her. Almost.

You and Carol were in a particular situation. She wasn’t just your boss, this was her company. It ran the way she wanted it to and everyone did what she said with no questions asked. Her temper was quick to flare up when she didn’t get what she wanted so you hurried on your way to the elevator.

It started out with her slapping your ass as you left her office for the first time. You could hardly process what happened and as soon as you turned around she was slamming the door shut. The next time was her casually groping you in an empty hallway, pinching your nipples, telling you how pretty you were and how wet she was thinking about you. It had become a habit of hers to harass you whenever and wherever she saw fit.

That was months ago. It only got worse as time went on. It wasn’t just at work anymore, she wanted more. Carol would take you out to expensive restaurants you couldn’t dream of affording, buy you clothes with price tags that had more zeros than you were comfortable with and make you stay the night with her at her house. That would sound like a dream to a lot of people, but not to you. You liked your job, this was what you had gone to school for and being able to do it fulfilled you. Carol was the only thing you didn’t like about work and it wasn’t like you could just quit. At the very least you’d never find work in this city again and you thought her influence probably went even further than that. If you made her upset she had the power to ruin your life in a matter of minutes.

“I’ll quit,” you lied to her. You wouldn’t.

“You won’t.”

“I’ll tell someone.”

“Don’t even think about it. It’s a waste of time. You think they’ll believe you?”

So you stayed and did what she wanted no matter how humiliating it got. And she loved to humiliate you. You knew people would talk about why you got called to her office so often. Comments about how inept you must be, office conspiracies about how you might get fired and your all time favorite theory: you guys were fucking on company time. Never in your life did you think you’d be the subject of gossip like that, especially not in a professional environment and especially when there was truth to the rumors. Life had really taken a turn for the worse and yet this was probably still the best option you had.

When you reached the top floor of the building, you took a breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. Carol’s assistant gave you a fake smile but didn’t say anything further as you headed down the hallway. Her door was cracked and you stepped in silently, just to see her pacing the room and talking to someone on the phone. Carol was dressed to kill, as usual, with her immaculately pressed blazer, matching skirt and heels so high you were in pain just looking at them. She looked you up and down once before stepping across the room to stare out of the floor to ceiling windows behind her desk.

“Whatever. Just get it done. I have a meeting right now.” She hung up the phone.

When she turned back to you, you were leaned against the closed door, nervously fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve.

“Look at my pretty girl wearing the dress I bought her,” Carol said, with that ever present smirk on her face. She was smug, like she always knew what was going to happen because she was in charge and reveling in it.

“You told me to wear it,” you murmured quietly. She exhaled a small laugh.  

“And you listened because you’re a pathetic little bitch. Isn’t that right?”

You were silent, staring down at your shoes as tears began to well in your eyes.

“Answer me,” she demanded.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I’m a pathetic little bitch,” your voice cracked at the end as you sobbed and Carol beckoned you over. A few unsteady steps had you right in front of her where she pulled you into her arms.

“Don’t cry, baby. You’re such a good girl for mommy. Now get undressed for me.”

She let go of you, pushing you back a bit so she could look at you properly. You reached behind yourself to catch the zipper of your dress and slid it down. The dress dropped to pool at your feet and you stepped out, reaching back again to unclasp your bra. Carol was staring at you, much like a predator does their prey, while gently biting her lip.

You pulled the clasp free and let your bra fall to the floor before quickly pulling off your panties as well.

Carol was on you instantly. Her hands roved over you, squeezing and touching every place she could. Her lips pressed to a little spot just below your ear and you let out an unconscious gasp. You could feel her smile into your skin. One of her hands tweaked and pulled at your nipple while the other slid down, passing over your abdomen with fleeting touches and cupping your most sensitive area.

She gave a lick to the shell of your ear before pulling back.

“You’re so fucking pretty.“

Carol began to methodically undress, pulling each piece off and gently setting it to lay across her chair. While she did so, you were briefly caught staring out the window. You always wondered if the people in the next building could see you, if they knew the things that happened in here. The shame of it pulled heat to your cheeks and you looked at the floor.

“You’re looking in the right place. Get on your knees and lick my cunt.”

Carol was perched on the edge of her desk with her legs spread and waiting for you. You knelt on the ground with the rough carpet digging into your bare knees. You embarrassingly crawled the rest of the way to her, just how she liked. Your face was inches away from her pussy, pink and dripping for you.

Carol’s hands slid into your hair and she pushed your face into her cunt, grinding down and smearing her juices across your mouth and cheeks. When she was done you slid your tongue out, giving a lick to her clit and her body jolted with pleasure before she pulled you closer again. Your open mouth pressed into her cunt.

With your hands resting on her thighs, you swirled your tongue around her clit, doing your best to get her off. She moaned above you, eyes gently closing as she rode your face.

“Fuck. That pretty little mouth is so good. You like the taste of my cunt, baby?”

You nodded from between her legs, pulling away from her clit and pushing your tongue into her. She groaned while you lapped up her slick.

“Good little bitch. You’re gonna make me cum. Fuck, mommy’s gonna come on your pretty face.”

Her grip on your hair tightened when your tongue danced over her clit. You took the little bundle of nerves into your mouth and sucked as hard as you could. Carol let out a loud moan she she came, with her juices dripping out and spreading across your face. When she was done, she pushed you away from her roughly.

She laughed darkly as she watched you on the floor.

“I knew you were good for something. Now bend over my desk.”

“Carol, please just let me go back to work,” you begged her. She looked thoughtful.

“If you bend over and you’re not wet, I’ll let you go.”

You hung your head with humiliation burning through you. You were wet and Carol knew as much. She smiled at your resignation and pulled you up, pressing your top half against the expensive mahogany. A few harsh swats came down on your backside and you whimpered in pain.

Carol pushed two fingers into you, massaging your generously lubricated walls.

“Aww. You’re adorable. You don’t even know what you want. It’s okay. Mommy’s gonna make you feel good.”

She pushed in deeper, pressing directly against your g spot. Your back arched off the table and she pushed you back down with one hand. Her fingers took up a vicious pace inside you and you hated that she knew exactly how to touch you, exactly how to make you squirm for her.

“Good little slut. I know you love my fingers deep in your pretty pussy.”

She slid in another finger in her unrelenting pace before taking the hand that was holding your down and snaking it around to press against your clit and drawing her fingers in tight circles. The obscenely wet noises coming from your pussy only spurred your arousal on further.

You felt a familiar pressure building in your abdomen and you wanted to squirm away from her.

“Carol, stop. P-please.”

“I can’t. Not when you look so good under me. You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for me. I want your messy little cunt to squirt all over me.”

“No! Stop!”

“Cum for me, bitch!”

You were absolutely mindless as you came. Your body tensed up and shook while your pussy spasmed around her fingers. You tried to grind further against her hand on your clit and she obliged, pressing harder against you. An embarrassing gush of fluid came out of you, soaking Carol’s wrist and up her forearm. Even after you were done and Carol and pulled her hand out of you, you were still shaking.

She walked around her desk, pulling out a little towel and wiping her hand off.

“I heard my baby girl might be getting a promotion soon. Doesn’t that sound fun?” Carol asked.

“Yes.” You could barely form a sentence but you managed to mutter a reply.

“This weekend when we go out, if you’re a good girl, I’ll fuck you with the strap on. You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Carol.” She started redressing herself but you didn’t trust your shaky legs enough to move yet.

“One final thing, when you go home, send me a video of you touching yourself. I might need some inspiration while I’m working late.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“My good little whore.”

#dark marvel #Dark Fic #dark!carol #dark carol danvers #carol danvers #carol danvers x y/n #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #afterdark2kchallenge