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kth1 · 2 years

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Welcome to Woodsboro [KTH]

⟶ Welcome to Woodsboro [Taehyung x Female Reader] ⟶ Genre: Thriller, Horror-themed, Some Fluff, Established Relationship, Smut, One Shot, 18+ ⟶ Warnings: mentions of the scream lore, mentions of killers (main characters are alive and well), references killings, references murders, references death, uses a fake knife, fingering, unprotected, slight choking, tiny roleplay, creampie, etc. ⟶ WC: 15.8k+ ⟶ Beta: wittle tiny hali @haliiimede ⟶ Summary: One generation's tragedy is the next one's joke as two horror enthusiasts set out to visit California's most infamous murder site, Woodsboro. Decorated like a festival throughout the town is none other than the haunting and creepy mask of Ghostface. As an area with a history of a gruesome and terrorizing past, there is nothing better for fanatics from all around to show up on the anniversary of the very first murder that set off decades of repetitive fear. ⟶ Author’s Note: Apart of Bangtan Cinema: Horror Night! I’m super stoked to dabble in an AU which I personally love so dearly! Scream is my favorite horror franchise and slasher story, so it was only time for me to step down into the spooky pits of this type of story! Fun feedback is greatly appreciated if you have the time! Side note: This story takes place right after the 2021 film! So for those who know Scream, you will understand a bit better! Also I know my banner is super misleading but it’s so sexy so I don’t care.

The two seater Chevrolet Spark, which you and Taehyung drive in, cruises down the highway at impeccable speed given its size and stature. Zipping through lanes and passing slower cars all while doing the acceptable speed limit to reach your destination of choice. Which is none other than the well-known town in California named Woodsboro; a once quiet area many moons ago, now laced with a looming darkness and a chilling past. A hot spot for all horror enthusiasts to visit with curiosity and eagerness due to the story of former resident, Sidney Prescott.

To this day, Woodsboro is one of California’s most marketed and commercial murder sites.

Taehyung, your boyfriend for some time now, and yourself set out on a road trip to visit several famous murder-magnet areas across state lines throughout North America. Having a strong knack and liking towards horror as a whole; both you and Taehyung run your own podcast and occasional YouTube streams about several types of horror-related thoughts and opinions. Digging deep into the topics on hand and investigating the stories behind the stories of each subject.

The two of you managed to find another through your similar interests. Both individually having your own livestreams and eventually merging together as one after several personal interactions later. Together, the two of you take on the world of horror whether it be nonfiction or not!

You’ve been on the road for nearly 4 hours as your vehicle inches closer to Woodsboro. Taehyung takes on the wheel with ease, opting to use cruise control when necessary while you two share fast food fries tucked into the center console. The GPS on the dashboard indicates the two of you should be arriving shortly and excitement inside sparks higher than ever.

Mindlessly, you watch on your phone a new interview on Kirby Reed, a survivor from one of Woodboro’s murder sprees back in 2011. You mentally take note of a few sentences she states, trying to compare things she is speaking about now versus from when she was first interviewed 9 years ago. How much she has grown and changed throughout the years of being a survivor and taking life on with a new perspective.

“You know,” Taehyung begins speaking, “I’m surprised they haven’t made another Stab movie after the last massacre.”

“Do you mean the one Kirby was a part of or do you mean the one that happened literally last year?”

“Honestly, both. Considering that every-so-often something happens in Woodsboro or in regard to Sidney. I’m curious why the franchise didn’t come up with another movie to continue. I’m feeling a little dry over here with my favorite classic.”

You laugh a little as you tap through your phone to Google about any updates in reference to any future Stab movies. Clicking your tongue, you ease further back into your seat as you read the letters on your device.

“Says here it doesn’t look like there are any production talks about another Stab. Probably because the last film, Stab 8, was utterly terrible and Hollywood realized that it’s a dead franchise without Sidney’s story or Gale Weathers’ books to keep it alive.”

Taehyung grabs a handful of fries to shove into his mouth as he monitors the road ahead of him. His eyes watch for the large signs above that’ll signal the upcoming exits and the distance he has to get to them.

“Stab 5 was awful too,” he quips, “That shit even had time travel in it. But I still loved it!”

“I think you’re hooked on the idea of Ghostface more than anything now,” you laugh at him while admiring his side profile and honey blonde hair.

Taehyung cracks a small smile, knowing very well that you are correct. His love for the entire Sidney Prescott lore stuck with him ever since he first learned about it. Something about the story just appeals to him, even though it’s a corrupted story and not one you would read in a happy fairytale book.

“To be fair, you like it too.”

“I do,” you affirm with a smile. “And we have several podcasts and documentaries to thrive off of! I don’t think we need another Stab movie.”

“Unless…” Taehyung grins as his hands run across the steering wheel.

You blink at him, awaiting his next words.

“Unless they went back, like they normally do with the classics, and remake everything from the beginning! New cast, new views, new –”

“– The first 3, the original trilogy, are solely based off of Sidney Prescott and Gale Weathers’ books! How are you going to remake something based on real events and get away with it? Besides, Sidney threatened to sue the companies if they continued with her story. That’s why we have all these extra movies that half the time don’t make any sense.”

You laugh at the sudden pout formed on Taehyung’s lips that match the turned down brows on his forehead. He tilts his head as he huffs quickly, giving off a disputed noise.

“Haven’t you read into all of the murder massacres?”

His tone sounds defensive but you find it cute. You’re not trying to rile him up, although you are here for it if he speaks up. Taehyung normally becomes very passionate over his opinions and almost always has the need to express them.

“Are you saying I’ve never done my homework on Woodsboro? I’m quite offended,” you feign hurt. “Of course I know what went on. We did have a variety of podcasts entirely on Woodsboro.”

“Then you do realize that nearly all the murders were trying to out-do the original?”

A ping alerts on the dashboard before you, warning that your exit is coming up on the right. Taehyung merges into the closer lane when the coast is clear, taking the car out of cruise control in the meantime.

You question him with a puzzled look, “Are you seriously using that to ground your argument for another Stab movie?”

“It’s pretty solid if you ask me.”

The car slows down to a lesser speed as Taehyung directs it through an exit. The road bends slightly, pulling off of the California freeway and approaching the first set of traffic lights you’ve seen in hours. A green sign posted in the ground on the other side of the street welcomes you with the words “Woodsboro: City Limit”.

You begin to fidget with giddiness in your seat, you can see Taehyung do the same as the two of you actively scan the area around you with your eyes. Finally, the two of you have officially entered the area you’ve always talked about. Always researched on.

It’s all coming to life right before you; thrilled is a complete understatement!

Fumbling with your phone, you quickly tap on your device to access the camera app. You select the video, making sure it’s at its highest quality, as you start to record the scene before you. Speaking into the microphone, you express with a shriek of excitement that “Scary-tales”, your podcast and YouTube name, has officially set foot in Woodsboro.

Taehyung drives down the street after the light turns green, marveling at the scenery around. The two of you aren't surprised once your vehicle comes to a slow stop behind a line of cars. They seem to be waiting to enter the small town as well.

“Looks like there’s going to be a lot of festivities,” Taehyung voices as he points over to the left shoulder of the road. From a far distance he can see black fabric hanging from a sign accompanied with a white mask. “The town probably is all decorated for the season.”

Astonished, you try to lean over and look out from his side of the car.

“Oh! That’s so cool!” It takes you a moment to register something of importance, like a thought lingering in the back of your mind which now jumps out from hiding. “You did make sure to pack the good camera this time, right?”

The car moves up in line, the flow becoming a steady 10 miles per hour instead of the occasional stops.

Taehyung quickly glances at you to reassure your suspicion on him, “Of course! I brought the one with the little attachable microphone!”

You shrug in your seat, giving Taehyung a scrunched up facial expression as you regret the low faith you had in him a second ago.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry!” you laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just wanted you to be able to capture everything you wanted. This place is more for you than for me.”

“Nah, baby, this place is for us both.”

He grins from ear to ear with sparkles in his eyes. He’s serious and endearing.

“You like Ghostface too!” he adds with mirth.

You pan your phone over towards him, recording his face as he speaks with enthusiasm. You smile with joy, letting out a laugh when Taehyung begs you not to record him.

“He’s no Michael Myers, but what can I say? I like my men with a mask.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow towards you, humor in the tone of his voice when he questions you next.

“So you’re saying I need to wear a mask?” He jokes with a giggle.

You shake your head at his nonsense, but he’s funny nonetheless. It manages to make you smile wider and that’s all he wants from you. To make you enjoy yourself all in all.

The deeper you enter Woodsboro, the more decorations the two of you notice. The entire town is covered with Ghostface decorations and painted blood spills. Street signs from as simple as “2 Hour Parking” to the tops of lamp posts all have a floating Ghostface mask with ripped up black fabric drifting in the wind of the chilly air. Giving the town even more character; making it feel even spookier.

You zoom in and out on all the decorations that you can catch in a passing car. Taehyung continues to travel by the GPS’s directions while you speak openly to your phone that’s recording the festivities and spooky decorations.

“Traffic remains busy as ever. It’s the exact day, September 28th, of the first original murder which set out decades of horrendous attacks and killings to the years that followed. Maureen Prescott, Sidney Prescott’s mother, was murdered in this very town 27 years ago. Here, I, Y/n, and my most trusted colleague and partner, Taehyung finally have entered California’s most infamous town. Woodsboro!”

Slowly the vehicling passes through the town square. It feels as if every street has a police car patrolling the area. A small park resides in the middle of the cross-pathed streets, vendors and food trucks line up from end to end. You can spot Ghostface merchandise everywhere you look before you turn to Taehyung with surprise.

“They really turned this place into a celebration. I wonder if there’s any movie viewings at an abandoned farm or the theaters,” Taehyung ponders out loud.

“We did not come all the way out here just to watch the movies,” you lightly hit his shoulder. “We want to experience the actual vibe of Woodsboro.”

Taehyung chuckles as his eyes light up. He sees a group of people following the lead of a female with a microphone and small speaker attached to her hip. She’s ushering the crowd through the park, pointing over at some local stores and holding out a map.

“We’ll be sure to take a lot of photos and videos,” Taehyung exclaims. “We’ll see as much as we can!”

Shortly after being directed through traffic, Taehyung drives past Woodsboro High School. Both of you ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ over the building. Large banners drape over the front of the building with Ghostface’s mask. Firefighters on ladders are trying to take them down, disapproval from the Mayor must be the reason.

“It must suck working for a town that mocks its law enforcement and first responders,” Taehyung murmurs under his breath. “The place turned into a whole attraction site for people like us.”

You pan your phone over to Taehyung with a wide grin on your face. Angling yourself to get to the High School in the background of Taehyung, you clear your throat to gain his attention.

In your deepest and creepiest way, you speak the classic quote.

“What’s your favorite scary movie, Taehyung?”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes as he quickly looks into the camera. He squints as if he’s up to no good. The GPS speaks to you once again, telling you to take the next left turn and the destination will be a mile up on the right. Taehyung raises his eyebrow to flirt, giving you a suggestive glare.

“Bambi.”

The fork in your hand clinks against the plate below you as you stab into a clump of mashed potatoes. It’s salted and buttered exactly the way you like it. In your opinion it is a better choice compared to the diner fries. So, at least you say as you stare over at Taehyung’s plate of food with pieces of fries you pick off his plate whenever you feel like it.

His mouth opens wide to engulf a large portion of his triple stacked cheeseburger loaded with tomatoes, pickles, onions, ketchup, mayonnaise, and the diner’s special hot sauce. This man always surprises you with how he can practically inhale his food, making you question how he even digests it all before his next meal. Taehyung has just as strong of a love for food as he does for his murder stories.

You pick at your BLT sandwich piece by piece as you look around the diner. The layout is plain and simple, suits the busy crowd well with the variety of characters that linger throughout. Several people sit at a curved stool in front of the bar, snacking on their meals they ordered. Whereas you and Taehyung managed to snag a corner table right near the large display window that sits two of you comfortably. Even the menu and window decal supports Ghostface’s presence. Yellow seats cover the base of each booth tied with an off-white backing. The table before you is dressed in a clear-plastic, protecting the speckled aged wood.

“I still can’t believe you managed to find an available room at the hotel in this town. It wasn’t too expensive, was it?” You question Taehyung as you whip out a small notepad from your purse. “Like, it wasn’t a big price for here?”

Taehyung continues to munch on his burger while nodding his head, humming a “mmf” as he answers you back. Dressing drips off the side of his mouth and runs down his jaw as he searches for a napkin.

“It’s all good, I’ve handled it. I booked the room months ago so no need to stress about the cost. We’re covered, baby.” He reassures you. Taehyung swipes away the food on the corners of his lips. “Besides, we’re only here for two nights and you can’t put a price on this type of stuff.”

Your pen runs across the paper of your notebook as you jot down the beginnings of a list. Mapping out their path of where they want to visit and what they want to do during the small timeframe they have.

“Okay,” you hum. “I trust you.”

Taehyung reaches over to grab your hand, his thumb rubs softly over your knuckles. He knocks the pen out of your grip and laces his fingers with yours.

“Hey,” he speaks softly. “I know you have so many things going on in that brain of yours, but sit back and enjoy yourself right now. We have all the time.”

You sigh but give Taehyung a warm smile in response. Your hand squeezes him a little more as you nod your agreement.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to calm down. I just have all this excitement –”

“– And that’s okay. I appreciate and love how excited you get, baby!” Taehyung smiles and grabs a french fry off of his plate and feeds it to you directly. “I’m wired too.”

“Say, let’s hit up one of these merchandise stands after we finish up our lunch. I’m sure we can get a fun matching shirt or something.” Taehyung flashes his teeth before biting on his bottom lip.

“Tempting,” you bat your eyes at him quickly, “But let’s figure out all the places we can visit and hit up. I want to visit the Macher’s house – well technically it was last owned by the Freeman’s. But it was the place with the most attacks. The one on Turner Lane! I heard it was turned into a walk-through funhouse of some sort. Like a museum but not really.”

“That would be such a great place for an airbnb,” Taehyung adds. He continues finishing up the food on his plate while you start jotting down your list.

“Right?” You agree with him. “But the idea of being able to walk around it freely is also pretty cool.”

Your waitress steps over to your table suddenly, her black apron sitting comfortably tight across her waist. She checks in with the two of you, has a coffee pot in hand and offers some for your empty cups in which the two of you agree immediately. Traveling through the state of California to hit up all your favorite horror-related sites has proved to the two of you that coffee is your new best friend.

“Just let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to order,” the waitress with the name tag saying ‘Tatum’ waves as she walks away to check on the other tables she’s in charge of.

You tap Taehyung on the arm frantically the moment she disappears from your area, “Tae, did you notice her name?”

Taehyung looks up at you through his sweet honey blonde curtain bangs with another mouth full of food. His eyes open wide like a confused puppy.

“No?” he tries to say without spitting out any food.

“Her name is Tatum! Like Tatum Riley! Sidney’s best friend during the first massacre!”

“Oh shit, no way! Maybe her parents are lowkey a fan?”

“I’m afraid to ask though, she probably gets questioned about it a lot.”

You take a long sip of your coffee as you jot down more ideas. The surrounding tables are beginning to fill up more with bodies, making the Woodsboro diner sound a bit louder. Even a group of rowdy teenagers come in with full apparel of Ghostface costumes but each mask is a different color.

Taehyung stops mid-bite when his face turns into realization about something. His whole body stills as he processes his thoughts.

You look up at him when he makes a disgruntled noise with his throat. His brows slowly knit together.

“What’s the matter, babe?”

“Something just hit me,” he says with skepticism. “What if we end up getting killed?”

You laugh out loud, motioning with your hand for Taehyung to relax.

“Tae, we’re fine. Everything here is focused on Sidney. There is absolutely no reason or any motive for a Ghostface to attack us,” you reason with him. “And before you ask, last year’s massacre was in-relation to the people who were tied to the original massacres. All the people involved with the lore of the first mastermind of it all.”

“Billy Loomis,” Taehyung utters under his breath. Even the name sends a shiver down your spine now that you’re in this town. “But also, horror enthusiasts… one who watches too many movies and shows, like us…”

“Like Amber Freeman and Richie Kirsch?”

Taehyung nods, “There could be more people like the murderers from last year who just want to continue the story.”

You squint your eyes at Taehyung from across the table. Your face twists with humor and confusion, unsure on how to respond to his words.

“Saying something like that makes it sound like you’d be the one to do that type of thing,” you state nonchalantly.

“Not at all!” He reclines back into his side of the booth. Taehyung brushes his hair out of his face with a hand, the other searching for his phone in the pocket of his jacket. “I’m saying other people could be motivated in such a way. Do you really think I'd be capable of something like that?”

“Most people don’t know who could be a killer until they’re caught…” You tap your pen on the table with a smile on your face. “So I wouldn’t know if that’s something you’re into,” you joke.

Taehyung browses through some of his notifications on his cell phone when he gives you a contemptuous face. He’s unsatisfied with your accusation, but you do have a point.

“Baby, I can say the same thing for you.” He raises his eyebrows with surprise, smiling to himself as his thumb taps away to send a message to someone. “I mean, you indulge yourself in plenty of scary movies too. Which franchise are you trying to keep alive?” He jests with a wink as he places his phone down and turns the screen for you to view.

You see a banner posted to a Twitter post that is colorful and pops out to draw the creative eye. In large bold words it says “Annual Stab-a-thon!” with pictures of knives and pumpkins. Attached is a timeframe and location, one nearby, which makes Taehyung wiggle his brows at you.

“You’re funny,” you dryly say as you push the phone away from your side of the table. The sarcasm laced in your tone only makes Taehyung content with his actions. “You know I would never do something like that,” you say in reference to the hint of you being a killer. “Honestly, I don’t think I'd survive very long in a horror movie. I am the type to be at the wrong place at the wrong time,” you humor him with your confession.

Taehyung grabs your notepad from you swiftly to write down an idea. He tilts his head to the side, shaking it at you in disbelief.

“Ah, you need to give yourself more credit than that,” he scribbles down his chicken scratch while speaking to you. “I think you would make it to the final act!”

“Well with you as the killer, I think you’d give me some mercy to make it that far,” you tease as you bite back a smile.

Taehyung scrunches his face with anger and surprise. His mouth gapes open with a disappointed huff.

“I’m not a killer!” he protests with his whole chest. He uses his forefinger to press into the table with every syllable he speaks. “I’m an innocent person!”

The two of you break out in a fit of laughter. Taehyung looks at you with sadness while holding back his full smile as you roll your eyes at his ridiculousness. It’s conversations like these that end up with cute displays which makes you love the man even more.

“Tae,” you drawl as you recollect the conversation. “You’re cute when you get offended.”

“Thanks,” he responds laconically and with a pout.

Your waitress, Tatum, comes back over once again with a written out check for your table. She offers her service one last time to see if either of you need any more refreshments or food before handing the piece of paper over. Your boyfriend snatches the check from your view and fishes out his wallet from his back pocket.

“I got it covered,” he states as he counts through his money.

“Okay, but the next thing we have to pay for is on me!” you declare.

There’s always this weird complex with you that you feel the need to have equal contribution to spending expenses. If someone keeps pampering you too much, someone like a boyfriend you know so well, you tend to find ways to make it equal in return.

Somehow.

“We’ll see,” he grins.

Before Taehyung can manage the tip for the waitress, you emphasize the importance of the notepad still sitting out on the tabletop. You read the last thing Taehyung wrote, which is the address “34 Elm Street.” Nodding your head, you raise your shoulders to show your indifference to it.

“The Prescott’s old house,” you acknowledge. “I’m down.”

Taehyung holds onto his cup of coffee while leaning in to look at the notepad. You reach for the pen once again to begin writing more.

“How about we finish our list before we leave here and check out some souvenir places. By then we’ll be able to check into our hotel room and start visiting some spots. I’ll have to fill up the tank as well.”

“Sounds like a plan!” You voice with keenness.

Your pen traces letters into your notepad as you add stars next to your favorite and must visit sites. Tonight the two of you will be able to hit some of the areas up with no problems in your way. Enjoy some festivities and grab some merchandise. Have fun together and experience some irreplaceable memories.

And survive Woodsboro.

Taehyung and you both walk into room 312 with your bags in hand. Right before arriving at the hotel, you had stopped at a local grocery place to grab a few necessities and snacks to hold you over for the night. Thankfully the WoodSpring Suites comes with a complimentary breakfast in the morning along with a small snack area where you can purchase beverages and food that can appeal to a small appetite. But with Taehyung, you already know that the store was the better choice for the matter.

The entire left wall from beginning to end is colored in Aegean blue while the rest of the walls are a soft eggshell white color. The king size bed is covered in grayish-tan and rice paper colors, complemented with hickory wood furniture. The laminate flooring matches the wood as much as possible, giving the room a friendly and clean look to it. One single off-yellow couch sits in the corner of the room with a coffee table in front of it.

“Finally!” Taehyung rejoices to himself as he plops his bags down on the edge of the bed.

You, however, walk yourself to the coffee table and neatly take out pieces of your electronics and begin to step up a small work desk for yourself.

“The place looks great,” you comment as you toss the remote controller over toward the bed for Taehyung.

“Yeah, I like it too!” Taehyung shuffles through his bags and gathers articles of clothing for himself. He continues to unzip and pull apart his items all over the spread of the bed. “Did you want to do a nightly recording before bed?”

You nod as you focus on angeling your laptop and connecting it to an outlet in the wall beside you. “With some of the sites we managed to see today, like the Robert’s house and High School, I think we can talk about some things if you’re up for it. It is kind of late though.”

“My legs hurt from walking so much,” he laughs while he sits on the bed and kicks off his shoes. “Can we do a mini-one? I’m kind of beat. Going to jump in the shower before anything though. Do you want to join?”

Looking over at Taehyung, you see he has a satisfied face without giving you a glance. You’re well aware he has already determined his actions for the next 30 minutes and you are in no position to stop him.

“I’m ok, I can wait.” You smile. Typing in your password to the laptop, you smile to yourself. “I can start reheating those microwavable meals while you are in the shower so they’ll be ready by the time you come out.”

Taehyung makes his way over to you as he leans down. All his clothes and toiletries are stuffed in between his arms.

“Thank you,” he grins as he waits for you to connect his awaiting kiss.

You bite on your bottom lip before giving him what he wants. It’s a sweet and simple kiss, nothing hidden behind its meaning besides pure adoration.

The two of you are cut off by the sound of your hotel’s phone ringing. You give Taehyung a muddled face but he looks just as perplexed as you do. He moves toward the phone and by the third ring he picks it up.

“Hello?”

You watch as Taehyung’s facial gestures change through a series of confusion and amusement. He holds back a cringe smile, probably trying not to laugh.

“Oh yeah?” he says back to the phone. “A game?”

You furrow your brows while watching him. Taehyung wears a lopsided grin as he shifts his weight on his feet.

“Not interested, but this was cool,” he comments before hanging up the phone.

“Was that the front desk?” You blink at him.

Taehyung shakes his head while shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t think so,” he huffed a laugh. “Someone trying to do the Ghostface voice.”

“What really?” You speak with astonishment, “No way!”

He departs towards the bathroom before the phone rings once again. Taehyung stops and turns on his heels, eyes glaring at the phone that flashes. Taehyung shares a curious glance with you and raises his eyebrows.

“Do you want to answer it?”

The phone continues to ring until you finally decide for yourself to head over toward it. You grip the device with no hesitation and lift it to your ear. On the other side of the line you hear nothing at first besides heavy breathing. It stands the hairs on the back of your neck.

You allow the silence to linger between you and the caller, just listening for the only noises you can hear. A deep chuckle emits in a raspy tone.

“Hey, we’re not finished yet,” the ominous, taunting threatening voice speaks.

“Who is this?” you question with the thrill knowing you’re asking the most silly question.

It’s most definitely some form of prank based on how active and inventive Woodsboro is. You wonder how often people play the part of acting as Ghostface for shits and giggles. But from an out of townie like yourself, something like this seems so cool to you. Not annoying whatsoever.

Taehyung has already entered the bathroom, leaving the door open just in case you change your mind or not if you choose to join him, while you sit on the edge of the bed. The shower is running and one can only assume Taehyung has stripped down to his bare nakedness and submerged himself under the cascade of water by now.

“Who do you think this is?”

You entertain the person on the other line. “The most obvious answer for Woodsboro would be Ghostface. Am I right?”

“Yes,” the rugged voice replies. “Aren’t you so smart?”

“I’m a big fan,” you giggle.

“Do you like scary movies?”

“Of course I do. Why do you think I’m here?” you laugh at the classic phrase being spoken to you. Before you allow the other person to respond, you fake yawn out of boredom. “This is so unoriginal. You’ve lost my interest already.”

In a warning tone, the voice threatens, “Don’t hang up on me!”

“It’s late and I'm tired,” you claim before placing the phone down on its receiver.

You sigh as you stare at the device on the bedside table. There’s plenty of spooks to go around all day tomorrow, you don’t need anymore right now.

A knock on the door alerts you, Taehyung can even hear it from inside the bathroom. Creeping up to the peephole, you see nobody on the other side of your door. Slowly, you back up making a disgruntled noise.

“Who is it, baby?” Your boyfriend shouts from the shower.

“It’s nobody,” you respond loud enough for him to hear. As you pass by the bathroom, you see Taehyung’s head poking out from behind the shower curtain – wet locks and everything. You give him a brief smile and shrug, raising your hands up. “I didn’t see anyone. Probably just a prank.”

“Huh,” Taehyung mulls over it for a second. He tilts his head with a wink, “You want to join me now?”

It’s hard to resist his innocent persuasion. His invitation of a nice hot, steamy shower is so inviting.

“Sure,” you smile.

You take one single step in the bathroom before your hotel room’s phone goes off again. You stare at Taehyung with confusion and alarm.

“Just unplug it from the wall.”

“Yeah… yeah,” you laugh.

You’re sure to disconnect the phone by the wire as well as locking both locks on your hotel room door. You shimmy off your clothes on your way into the bathroom, placing the towels nearby for when you need to grab them. Taehyung hums a melodic tune to himself as he washes his face under the showerhead as you peel open the curtain.

Your eyes scan the expanse of his wet nude body with a warm smile. He feels the cool draft enter his vicinity and turns to glance at you after wiping his eyes clean from the water.

“You alright?”

“Mhm,” you swallow. “Just surprised how dedicated some fans get with this place.”

Walking hand-in-hand with your boyfriend, you stroll along with some pep to your step. Thrills and shrills send signals throughout your nerves and you can tell it’s affecting Taehyung the way it does to you. Excitement and adrenaline. Together, the both of you walk along the line of the road flooded with lingering sight-seers all prepared to enter in the biggest hot spot of the night.

261 Turner Lane.

The location with the record of most murders and attacks know to Woodsboro – in regard to Ghostface. Taehyung begged you to visit the Woodsboro Hospital earlier this morning after your first night at the hotel. A place where several people, like Jill Roberts, Sidney’s cousin, and Sheriff Dwight ‘Dewey’ Riley had died. You two even managed to visit the Reed’s residence where Kirby and her friends were attacked nearly 10 years ago! However, that place was more off limits to civilians and most definitely did not want horror-nerds, like yourself, sniffing around with nostalgia.

All the sites are small, but hold so much weight and horrific memories for many. You can sympathize with those who are haunted by the past and understand that their community has gone through so much. But the geekiness of your love for horror and minor obsession with understanding serial killers and motives can almost desensitize the world around you.

Considering how it’s not just you, or Taehyung, who enjoy these types of things. But with how your eyes scan around every inch that Woodsboro has to offer, the exhilaration of it all continues to live because of the enthusiasts!

Merchandise, candy, confetti, bags, and balloons scattering around the town as if it’s a carnival for the one and only Ghostface. People of all ages dress up in the legendary costume and perform reenactments or shows. Even you, who is caught up in the mix of fun and games, walk around with a matching customized bracelet that you wear proudly with Taehyung. It sports a small trinket with your initials engraved into it right next to a hanging silver dagger that represents a buck knife.

For slicing and dicing… and also to constitute Ghostface's traditional weapon of use.

You cycle through your camera for all the photos and footage the two of you captured from your previous day excursions, making mental notes on what you should talk about on your next podcast after the two of you leave this town. Taehyung makes sure to point out everything he wants in the camera as well as he looks over your shoulder. With his fingers still intertwined with yours, he pulls your arm closer to his body so he can hold you closer to him.

“How much do you think we’ll be able to see? I tried to stay away from the internet so I didn’t get spoiled with anything,” He questions as his eyes look toward the front of the line you two stand in.

“I would hope for everything,” you speak softly. “It would be worth it to show off the entire house. It looks like they have hosts who direct you around,” you point over to a worker wearing a red tucked in button-up and dark dress pants.

The two of you admire the view of the side of the house, showing how the line you stand in extends with at least 50 bodies or more. But the home is dressed up nicely as if it was any other house you can see in Woodsboro. Beautiful flowers trail along the edgings of the road such as daffodils, red lilies, and purple agapanthus’. Tall brushes and thick weeds compliment the tan exterior of the house and deep green shingles. Shrubs and cobblestone walkways. Your mind paints a picture of all the gruesome and alarming actions that once took place here.

A little fountain in the middle of the entrance alley is drained of its water, showing off the rustic residue. Eerie music fills the air, played to entertain the ears of those who are visiting this walk-through house. Group by group, you see people filter into the front entrance of the notorious home. Eagerly, you and Taehyung step closer and closer and await your turn.

At the gate, a working crew at a small stand pulls out pieces of papers to fill out. Files to keep documented for those who enter and liability checks. Your signature is needed along with demographics and contact information. You hear screams up ahead, laughter soon to follow. Lights in the house flicker on and off, but the music ellipses over the brunt of the shrieks.

You pay a fee, nothing too expensive, for the two of you before signing your agreement. Fearlessly, both you and Taehyung allow the workers to strap on a colored bracelet to your wrists.

“Thank you,” you two express gratitude as you step along with the rest of the crowd.

The papers serve as a waiver, giving formal structure with risk involved sections, assumptions of risk sections, law provision, and respect to state laws. The owners of the house and those involved with the business have every right to hold your papers and pull you from the attraction site. Even though this is for fun and games, the seriousness of the property comes with its own stakes.

The Macher’s house, now rebranded into the name ‘Horror House’ for the attraction, stands at 5,500 square feet. To your knowledge, there are up to 4 bedrooms residing inside the establishment. Several bathrooms, a 3-car garage, rear and front foyers, and much more. With over 290 acres of land, creek frontage, and a span of eucalyptus groves, this amazing home survives decades of dreadful history.

You follow the path along the walkway with Taehyung by your side. Securing your purse around your body so it doesn’t snag on anything while you're inside, you turn to your boyfriend who’s snapping photos of the landscape and crowd.

“No flash photography!” You hear a worker shout at the entrance of the home. They hold up a flashlight directed toward Taehyung as they address him.

“Turn it off,” you whisper-yell at him as you pull his arm down. “Let’s not get thrown out before even getting inside.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was on until I took the photo!”

“Have bags opened and ready to be checked! Pockets emptied!”

As you step up the porch stairs of the Macher’s house, you hear busy workers repeating rules verbatim. They make this as swift and nimble as possible. Taehyung passes through security first, being patted down from all sides before they allow you to step through. They search your bag and roughly touch over your arms and jacket pockets, looking for any unnecessary hidden items for the protection of the house, staff, and customers.

Inside the house, the lights flicker on a timer. Red and yellow glows illuminate the walls as some areas in the house remain dim with no light source. The two of you are guided through the main entrance of the house by your hostess. The moment you step through, a loud group of screams appear overhead on the stairs right above you. People tripping over another and laughing from being spooked by someone in a Ghostface costume who has jumped out from behind a door frame.

You grab onto Taehyung on instinct while chuckling at yourself for getting scared from the loud noise. He, too, is startled momentarily, but he flashes a smile that expresses the fever buzz his body is radiating.

“Spooks and scares is the theme tonight!” Your hostess speaks in singsong. “Get ready to survive the fright!”

As corny as that rhyme sounds, it makes both you and your boyfriend giggle. You listen intently to the hostesses' words and fair warnings. How everything within the house is a reenactment of some sort and only serves to get your nerves jumping with fear. To be careful of your surroundings and not to stray too far away from your group. Playing in the funhouse is what you guys came here for anyways.

A loud dong resounds over the music, the clock striking an hour before midnight. Loud cheers and hollers are heard from inside and outside, everyone rejoicing with excitement.

“This shit’s so wild,” you comment with a bright look. You lean in towards Taehyung’s ear to whisper to him next, “Say, whenever we can… try recording some of the places in here without the staff seeing.”

“Already ahead of you,” he comments with a mischievous grin. His eyes flicker down to his pants pocket where his phone’s camera pops out just enough to show. In secret, he must have hit record and slid the device nonchalantly. “I’ve been recording after they yelled at me for the flash,” he laughs.

“I’m your hostess, Hallie. Please be advised that other parties are roaming around the building. So you most definitely will intermingle at some point. Please try your best to stick with me.” The petite, younger woman, adjusts her shirts’ sleeves along her wrists. Flashing the two of you the happiest of smiles.

“Can I ask,” you interject ever so slightly. “How long have you guys been running this?”

Hallie smiles with a nod, “About 4 months now. After the previous owners listed the house, it wasn’t very long for the current owner to snatch it off the market.”

“And no problems?” You quiz as you look around.

“Most furniture have been replaced with replicas just in case of damage. But it’s such a popular site, nobody has complained besides some locals.”

All three of you glance over towards a door frame in the back of the foyer. It’s hard to see but flashes of people running across the backend of the house come into view, followed by another person in a costume.

“There’s been some renovations to the house to maintain multiple entrances and exits to allow the flow of parties to weave in and out. Ideally, throughout your walkthrough you will visit every section of the house and even the field out back. Just mind the parties around you. We usually have about 7 parties at once to keep the line moving at a decent pace.”

Taehyung wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you comfortably against him. He shifts on his feet but directs his attention to Hallie.

“I think what she’s trying to ask is if there’s been any murders because of this,” he emphazises with a gesture of his hand.

Hallie gives the two of you a cheerful smile, flashing her set of pearly whites. “None whatsoever.” She steps in closer towards the two of you, taking hold of the earpiece in her ear to muffle her next words for whoever is listening on the other end. “But between us, I think this town wants to keep the slasher story alive and well.”

You both blink at her dumbfounded, but she holds up a hushed finger before placing her earpiece back in. She clicks on her small handheld flashlight that shines a bright blue, waving it in the air towards the walls of the house.

“So let us begin our journey through the Horror House! Our group color is blue,” she references the flashlight’s light color., “So if you ever need to find me, look for my light.”

Quickly, and before Hallie leads you to the left side of the house, you whip out your phone to snap a photo of you and Taehyung. The lighting is absolutely terrible but you manage to get the quarter turned staircase and sparkling chandelier above. Taehyung presses his lips against your cheek as you grin ear to ear to show your utmost happiness.

“Happy Anniversary!” you cheer to yourself as you snap the photo.

“Phones away please,” Hallie demands as her light flashes at you. “First and final warning.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you meekly say. You shrug like how a child does when they’re in trouble.

You shove your phone back inside your purse and zip it up tight. You grimace when Hallie gives you a sharp look, but she tilts her head and opens up her arms to guide you into the next room.

The room is lit up with a dim light, covered with plenty of floorspace and loveseat couches. The fireplace displays a fake fire while smoke roams on the floor. It serves as a living space, but before you or Taehyung can geek out about it, Hallie declares that this is not the room where any murders took place.

“One of the most unused areas of the house happens to be right here!” She exclaims. The celinings are tall, giving the room a larger feeling to it. Over in the corner stands a mannequin of Ghostface in an attacking pose, decorations surround it while the large mirror behind it shows your reflection.

Another round of terrific screams come from another part of the house and you can’t help but grip Taehyung’s hand tighter in your hold. The spooky aura of the house, and knowing the history, fuels your brain into all the acts.

“Now if you follow me this way, we’ll be entering the one area where Sidney and Stu battled out a fight, resulting in Sidney breaking a potted plant over Stu’s head and dropping an entire television on him!”

Hallie walks through first, pointing out a replicated television set standing in the corner of the room in front of some more couches. A coffee table is littered with candy, snacks, and drinks – as if there was an active party going on. You and Taehyung walk in right after her, only to get your first fright of the night when an actor jumps out from the side of the doorframe and grunts at the two of you.

“Ah!” You yelp but immediately slap your hand over your chest from laughing.

“Fuck!” Taehyung curses as his arm briefly comes up in defense.

The actor maintains character, hardly speaks but stays menacing enough. They hold up their false dagger, moving their arm in an attacking motion as both you and Taehyung maneuver around the floor without stumbling over another. The lights flicker with the beat of the sinister music, all to help create a fun horror-themed house.

“God this is so good!” You declare as you step around a few broken pieces of chairs as you get into the next room.

Your eyes scan around every inch and every corner of the beautiful house, given what little lighting you have to work with. You wish you can take it all in at your own pace, record things you want when you want to. But you need to be crafty and careful. So any chance you get, when Hallie or any other floating bodies of people aren’t looking your way, you try to fish through your purse to pull out your phone and capture a photo.

Taehyung on the other hand, is still rocking his secret pocket recording. You can tell he’s turning his body more often than so – probably to get as much footage as possible without being caught.

“This is the main attraction here! The climatic kitchen!” Hallie walks forward and around a small island table, tapping her hands on the counter like beating on a drum. “Where chicken and vegetables aren’t the only things that got cut up in here.”

You give Hallie a pensive glare, nearly shaking your head the moment the words left her lips.

“Eh,” she shrugs. “You’re right. That punchline isn’t that funny.”

Taehyung admires the white countertops and ocean blue walls which match the tiles above the stove. The window by the kitchen sink has blood splatters across it, red liquid dripping down into the silver stainless steel. Popcorn pieces are littered everywhere, while an old-timey phone hangs off the hinge of its cable.

“This is so fucking cool,” he comments. “Everything! All right here.” He stands with his arms outstretched. “This whole house has so much history! I can practically feel it.” He’s astonished but shows all his gratitude through giddiness. “Can you even imagine all the thoughts and emotions of the people who have gone through here?”

You step close to him as you check out a calendar up on the wall. It’s from 1996, September, with dates circled and highlighted and has written notes over which days and approximate times people have been attacked here during the first massacre.

“Too bad it’s not the 28th anymore and it’s the 29th. We’d be here exactly 26 years from when the first reign of Ghostface came to an end.”

“Yeah, but,” Taehyung nudges you in the arm. “It is our anniversary. So it’s still special.”

A loud thud from upstairs causes all three of you to jump in your spots. You whip your head around to look at Hallie who is already making her move towards the front foyer again, waving the two of you on with her.

“Let’s head upstairs, shall we?”

You wrap around to the front once again to see a new party of people entering the house. Hallie steps besides the stairs and points upward, telling the two of you to walk up. Taehyung shows no hesitation, but for you, you notice how there’s fake blood smeared all over the carpet of each stair. With your naked eye, it looks fresh. It is not until the time you reach the top of the stairs do you notice that the red paint was still wet and now tracks from your footprints.

Before you can question anything, you pivot and are ushered up another set of small stairs. The second story of the home has plenty of space. There is a nice little balcony area over the foyer that you can look down in, peeping at the groups of people who roam around the floors. You spot another actor walking around in a costume creeping behind a straggler, waiting any second for them to scare the person.

“Baby, let’s go.”

Taehyung pats you on your back as he passes you, following the hostesses lead into the master bedroom. There’s more decor dressing the house even scarier, and this time, the entire room is flipped upside down. The bed sheets and comforter are ripped apart, feathers from the pillows fallen on the floor.

It’s staged as if someone ransacked the entire room. It helps seeing a stuffed life-sized doll laying on the floor in a pile of blood. Both you and Taehyung express admiration over the scene, feeding into the question Hallie hits you with.

“Now, what might have happened here?”

“Looks like a murder,” Taehyung replies evidently.

Suddenly, a mysterious Ghostface appears from the master bathroom with his knife wielded high into the air. They step towards Hallie quickly, bee-lining their way straight to her to attack her.

She screams, and you respond with the same noise back. Ghostface digs his knife into her backside as Hallie stares at you and your boyfriend with shock. Her flashlight drops to the ground as Ghostface stabs her again.

You immediately back up, walking over the display of horror in the center of the room and walking over to another exit of the master suit.

“Holy shit,” you mutter as you’re grabbing Taehyung by the jacket to yank him with you. “Hallie?” you question as you watch her and Ghostface interact.

Your hostess drops to her knees before finally landing on the ground, face first into the carpet. While Ghostface stands there, head tilting to look over at the two of you as they clean off their knife with their gloves.

“Tae, move,” you urge while pulling on him more. You continue to back up until you see the steps to the stairs. They lead right to the ones that come from the foyer.

Ghostface begins to stalk you, rushing over to attack. Taehyung follows you as you pull him along urgently, frantically.

“This isn’t right. No, no, no,” you scream. You attempt to turn to run downstairs, but you nearly slip from trying to stop yourself. A group of people are in the middle of walking up the stairs, preventing you from going down. Taehyung hoists you back up, making you run to the other side and searches for the nearest door to run through.

“Run!” He shouts to anyone who can hear. Taehyung looks over his shoulder to see if Ghostface is still chasing you, and for a fact – they very much are!

Taehyung nearly pushes you through the far end door, closing it tight behind him. He searches for the locks, even moves a piece of furniture in front of the door quickly out of pure instinct. Your heart races erratically, but you turn and look at Taehyung with surprise.

You begin to laugh out loud, holding your head with your hands. Looking around, you notice the two of you are barricaded in a storage area. Like an attic of some sorts.

“This is hilarious!” you chuckle. You move around some useless knick knacks storage on top of some boxes. “We just got chased by a Ghostface!”

Taehyung nervously goes along with your lighthearted giggles, until his nerves bubble down into full blown laughter. He notices he has scratched his hand during the mix of everything. A cut annoying enough to draw blood.

“Yeah! Ha –” he runs his other hand through his hair, “– That was really funny.”

A bang hits the door and the two of you jolt in your place. The door gets hit again with a louder thud. When you notice the handle jingling, both Taehyung and you back up slightly. More shrieks and hollars are made from outside the door but you stay staring at it, begging for the door not to open.

When the door bursts open, but is blocked by the furniture Taehyung placed in front of it, you see the mask of Ghostface sticking through with their arm. Swinging wildly with their knife in hand. It clinks and digs into the wood of the door.

You walk backwards, deeper into the storage area and run over to one of the windows to look outside. You begin hitting your hands on the glass, screaming for help as you look down at the line of people still waiting to get inside of the house. The music is blaring and screaming coming from this house is practically normal – so your cries for help go completely unnoticed.

Taehyung grabs you from your shoulder, pulling you back as he calls your name.

“Y/n, Y/n! Look,” Taehyung points out another door that was hidden from view. Maybe one of the many renovations Hallie had spoken about earlier. “Come, come!” He begs as he holds onto your hand and leads you towards it.

He pried the door open after pushing boxes away from it. Stairs that lead down below welcome you, and happily the two of you take them. The darkness makes it impossible to see, but once you hit the last step into the new room, you realize you’re just outside the kitchen nook area.

“This house is so confusing,” you comment. “All the rooms practically intertwine with another!”

“The garage!” Taehyung pulls you with him, leading you to the door that’s been cracked open. Together, you push it open and step down the three wooden stairs. You notice a party with their host, they turn to you in shock. “Ghostface is chasing us!” Taehyung shouts as he practically drags you to the one open garage door.

You see the darkness of the night outside in the driveway. The sooner you’re out of the house the quicker you will feel safe. At least that’s what runs through your mind as you stumble over yourself as you rush out of the garage.

“Relax guys!” The host says. He flashes his green light at you as his hand comes up to halt your running spree. “It’s just a part of the show! What’s your color?”

Taehyung stops the two of you in the middle of the driveway. You’re now at the back of the house, away from the long line of horror enthusiasts, and can see golf carts set up for roaming the many acres of the backyard.

You grip onto his arm, holding tightly as your heartbeat races inside your chest. Wide eyed, you stare at the other host and the group they’re guiding.

“We’re blue,” Taehyung comments. He sounds slightly winded, but he hides it well when speaking back to the worker.

The host reaches for a walky-talky from his back pocket, pressing the button to speak into the voicebox.

“I have the blue party at the garage. Can the host of blue come here?”

Taehyung wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against him as you two stand aimlessly. There’s an uproar inside the house, joyous laughters and shouts for help. It rounds every 30 seconds or so. But it begins to sound unnerving. Maybe the horror funhouse is really scaring you.

“Hey,” Taehyung whispers as he runs his hands along your arm. “Not to psych you out or anything… but look where we’re standing right now.”

You glance around, seeing a boat covered with a tarp. A concrete walkway leads to the back desk of the house to your right and a row of lights line up beside it. It doesn’t hit you until Taehyung speaks the words “doggy door” to you that you realize exactly what you should be looking at.

The middle garage door is the place where Tatum Riley was found crushed at the top. Stuck between the dog door and the top of the garage.

You move around Taehyung to sneak a quick photo of the area. With enough space, you back up and capture the scene – making sure to capture Taehyung in the frame.

From the roof, windows from above peer out of the building. Inside one of those windows stands a person with the mask on, staring down at you. It raises a knife to the glass, tapping on it.

Taunting you.

Teasing you.

Minutes have gone by before someone shows up. Thankfully that person is Hallie, your original hostess. She steps into the garage from the kitchen, like how Taehyung and you had just done before.

“Jesus, where have you guys gone to? You’re so fast!” She exclaims with a huff.

“Wha-what?” You reply. “You were attacked!”

“It was an act,” she reassures. “Only to scare you! I see that it worked.” She laughs. Hallie turns her body left and right to show you her well being, “See, I’m unharmed. It’s all good.”

“I mean, I guess it is a funhouse. We just got caught up in it,” Taehyung mumbles. “I even thought it was real for a second there.” His deep chuckle makes you feel a little at ease.

“So are we ready to continue the house tour? We have more bumps and scares ahead of us.”

You stare off into space as your mind continues to think about all the places and things you’ve seen. Ever since that small scare at the Macher’s house, you can’t help but shake the feeling of what it could have been like for all who were murdered by someone behind the terrorizing mask that haunts this town. It feels almost too real for a reenactment, even though your hostess was perfectly fine in the end. Taehyung managed to get scraped in the process of running throughout the house while your shirt, which you didn’t notice until you got back to the hotel, ended up having a small tear in it. But that’s what a horror themed funhouse could do to those who enter. Freak them out. Psych them up.

Your fingers fiddle with another while you listen haphazardly to Taehyung recording himself for the podcast in the corner of your hotel room. He goes on and on about how much he’s enjoyed himself and shows off a handful of his memorable trinkets he’s bought from a few item shops. His freshly washed hair is combed back and away from his face; one small piece of tissue paper stuck to the blood patch on his upper lip – he must have cut himself shaving.

Gripping the small dangling chain of your matching bracelet, you twist it around playfully. You love how it’s customized and you also love how it’s something you two share. This horror-road trip the two of you set out on for your anniversary week is such a lovely occasion. Taehyung surprisingly took most of the reins for planning, which secondhandly makes you feel a tad bit ashamed for not being able to contribute as much.

However, you and only you know how to make Taehyung feel the most special. Give him the happiness that he deserves. Even when he’s the one who spoils you the most.

As you look over and watch him geek out over his favorite serial killer story, you can’t help but smile with awe. He has no idea how you’re watching him so intently. Applauding every boast and passionate joy he releases through his words. Taehyung has no clue what you have secretly planned for him for tonight.

And your entrance means everything.

Quietly, you gather a bag of goodies by your side – making sure not to draw Taehyung’s attention when you hushly pack a few extra items into it. You glance once, twice, just to make sure he’s staying indulged with his video editing.

You don’t need to announce that you’re heading to the shower. But you’re hoping Taehyung understands your need to lock the bathroom door behind you. With grace, you twist the nozzle for the shower on, waiting for the temperature of the water to blast the warmth you desire.

“In and out,” you mumble to yourself. “Don’t take forever.”

With the time ticking, you bath yourself faster than usual. Every inch of your skin is loathed up with your soapy washcloth and each stand of your hair touches shampoo and conditioner. When it comes to shaving, you choose to take your time. There’s no point of rushing in a haste and accidentally nipping yourself somewhere.

You prep and prime the rest of your body once you exit the shower. Running your mouth through with some fresh mouthwash, you multitask with lathering lotion all over your skin.

For the finale, you place some light make-up on your face. Highlighting your eyes and illuminating your cheeks with complimentary colors for you.

A wicked smile stretches across your face once you pull out your black lingerie from your bag. It was perfectly hidden with the Ghostface mask you’ve stored along with a retractable plastic dagger. You slip on piece by piece, lace and fishnets covering over your body in a sinful and sinister kind of way. Your thong sits tight across your waist, and the garter belts from the corset piece you now wear clips onto the stockings on your thighs.

“Shit,” you look around the counter of the sink for your phone. You must have left it on the bed while you snuck away here. No time to take some sexy Ghostface mirror selfies without ruining the surprise first.

“Baby, are you ok in there?” Taehyung's concerned voice calls out from behind the door.

You’re quick to interrupt, cutting any further talk off as you sinch the last belt over your waist.

“I’m good! Just thought I dropped something down the sink, but I didn’t!”

This is the first time you’ve worn something this elegant and fancy for Taehyung, with a new twist to it. The mask you hold in your hand lifts over your face, covering the top of your head before it settles in place.

The sheer black material of the eye holes only dims your vision slightly; but other than that you can see most of everything clearly.

You turn off the bathroom light before you open the door to return to Taehyung. With the fake dagger in one hand and your other on the handle, you hold your breath until you finally are ready to step through.

Finding yourself on the wall, you slant against it in a saucy pose. Lowering yourself just enough to look like you’re nearly ready to continue slipping. Your boyfriend doesn’t hear you at first, not with his nose driven deep into his cell phone and thumbs tapping away on the screen.

“Hey babe,” you tap lightly against the wall with your knuckles. “I want to play a game.”

Your outfit is hiked shorter than usual, showing off more lower half and making you appear all the leggier as your fishnet stockings welcome Taehyung’s eyes. The black lingerie calls to him, even the added Ghostface mask to top it all off. Your breasts are held firm against your chest with how your corset fits. Shaping you in such a beautiful and complementarity way. You wiggle your fake weapon at him as you drag the tip of it down between your chest to your navel. Forcing his eyes to follow your every move.

And how could he focus on anything besides you right now?

The buzzing of his phone in his hand doesn’t register to him. The noise on the television doesn’t distract him. The only thing his attention is on is how godly, how gorgeous, you look right here.

Right now.

“B-Baby?” His jaw drops. You’ve rendered him nearly speechless as his mind processes how completely stunning and mouthwatering you are. “Is this for me?” He smiles with amusement.

You nod your head slowly, using the knife to trail down your thigh and up between them. Lightly toying with the idea of it touching you in your naughty bits.

“Do you like it?” You lift yourself off the wall. Slowly you walk towards your dumbfounded boyfriend as sexy as you can, swaying your hips with each step. “I thought this could be a nice little treat for our anniversary, babe.”

“Oh, this is most definitely a nice little treat,” he comments as he licks his lips. Taehyung places his phone down on the coffee table in front of him. “Look at you!” He exclaims with a wide grin. “Look at this fucking outfit, I mean… fuck me, wow!”

He praises with excitement and wide eyes. Taehyung practically eats you up from head to toe.

“Thank you, I spent a lot of time thinking about how to woo you.”

“I’m howlin’ for you,” he jumps up from his chair. “Are you trying to kill me with that outfit?”

“Get the camera,” you flash him a smile.

Taehyung grabs hold of the recording device from the coffee table. Barely able to click it on, he covers the lens when he talks with you.

“This isn’t going on YouTube,” he murmurs with a nervous laugh.

You make your way over to your boyfriend, glide your hands up his chest and hook around his shoulders. The fake blade in your hand slowly draws lines up towards his neck. You attempt to be sexy and murderous at the same time.

“You wanna record me, babe?” You question rhetorically with seduction. As if you’re surprised he has the camera in his hand. Even though he cannot see your face behind the mask, he knows you’re giving him those sensual eyes he loves.

Taehyung focuses the camera on you, recording on play while he zooms in and out on your saucy attire. His eyes cannot leave you, mind racing with delicious thought after thought.

“Jesus, baby, you’re making me so hard. Best present ever!”

You pull his body close to yours, drag one of his hands to run up your thigh and around to the curve of your ass. Lifting your leg up, you allow Taehyung to hold you against him. His fingernails rake up your bare thighs, scratching and pulling at your skin and fabric.

His building erection becomes prominent through his shorts as you press yourself into him. To test him and to feel him.

“I can feel you,” you comment. With your might, you direct Taehyung to the edge of the bed before pushing him down to sit. His body flops enough for him to prop himself up by his elbows, looking up with you hungry and thirsty. His camera scans you from tip to toe, making sure to capture every single essence of your nightly Ghostface vibes. “I haven’t even gotten to play my game with you.”

Taehyung smiles, his teeth capturing his bottom lip. “You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”

“Oh, poo,” you mock lightheartedly. “Does Taehyung not want any of this?” you shimmy your chest just enough to emphasize your cleavage. For good measure, your hand comes up to squeeze the mound. Giving Taehyung a sight to see but also giving you a sensation you need.

Your boyfriend leans up and goes to grab at your chest, but you stop him with the dagger pointed at him.

“Ah-ah!” You taunt, “My game.”

Taehyung laughs as he sits back and admits defeat, for now. He gives you a passive gaze but gestures for you to continue onward. He’s interested in what you want to do.

“Let’s have some trivia,” you start as you tilt your head. “But first, a couple of small rules.”

“I’m listening,” Taehyung nods obediently.

“One, don’t interrupt,” you hold out a finger. You wiggle it at the camera that’s still on you as Taehyung raises his eyebrows at your asserting behavior. “Two, no touching!”

Taehyung deeply chuckles to himself. A challenge for him of course.

“And three,” you continue, “and this is the most important rule of them all…”

Your boyfriend shuffles himself up the bed slightly, legs spreading a smidgen wider for his growing bulge. It’s very evident through the fabric of his shorts, but you pay it no attention.

“I’m listening, baby. Tell me what it is,” he urges you on as he angles the camera.

Your knee bends into the end of the bed, pressing into the mattress where Taehyung is leaning back on. Stretching your legs open a little wider, you tease the idea of your prettiness and smooth thighs to him. The knife in your hand points towards the camera as your other hand presses into Taehyung’s chest to push him down.

“All eyes on me,” you speak beneath the mask you wear.

“God you’re so sexy…” Taehyung murmurs. His chest rises and falls with anticipation, and you already know you have him locked and loaded. “How did I get so luc –”

“– Let’s begin!” You twist the blade in your hand. “Get each question right and I'll touch myself for you. Get them wrong and well… let’s just say you won’t have a happy ending tonight.”

Taehyung’s smile never leaves his face while his eyes cannot focus on any specific part of your body. He wants to drink you all up, savior every single second of this sexy foreplay you have going on.

You hold up a single finger as you trail an invisible line above your cleavage area. It dances over each of your collar bones and up the length of your neck. A snicker escapes your throat, but the tone is more promiscuous than evil.

“I’ll give you an easy one. In the first Stab movies, which actress plays the part of the Woodsboro native, Sidney Prescott?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “Tori Spelling.”

“Yes! Very good,” you announce. Your palm grasps the mound of your tit as you feel yourself up in front of your boyfriend. Slowly, you slide your hand down the expanse of your torso down toward your hip. Making sure to outline all your curves and edges. You toy with the hemline of your panties through the sheer fabric that hangs down from your bust. “Ready for question number two?”

You watch the way Taehyung stares, rattling his brain about all the things he wants to do with you. To tease him further, your hand lands on his thigh as you guide it up toward the junction of his hips. With purpose, you avoid touching him where he’ll enjoy it the most. Letting him know you’re only centimeters away from pleasuring his cock.

“Yeah, hit me with the next one,” he murmurs. You can tell his voice is going softer as he stays focused.

“What was the name of the first book Gale Weathers wrote?”

You turn the dagger in your hand to drag the handle across your thigh. Bringing it up towards your clothed cunt that you keep spread open as your knee continues to bend into the mattress. Tilting your head, you let out a sweet “hmm?” noise towards Taehyung who is gawking at the way you decide to use your prop.

“Uh, uhm…”

“C’mon, babe. I know reading isn’t your forte… but a Ghostface fanatic should know this as well!”

“Isn’t it the Woodsboro Murders?” he looks up to you briefly for affirmation. There’s a sweet innocence to his eyes, clouded within the lust that pools in there.

“Ah? Is that your final answer?” you chuckle as you place your other knee onto the bed to now tower your boyfriend. With force, you make sure he’s pinned flat on his back.

“Why do you make it sound like it’s wrong?” he quizzes you as he places the camera to the side.

“Oh, because it is,” you interject quickly. With nothing else said, you take Taehyung’s answer and discipline him. “It’s Wrongly Accused. Based on the Maureen Prescoutt murder.” You unwrap a piece of black fabric off of your outfit, long enough to wrap around Taehyung’s head to cover his eyes. You’ve chosen to blind him from seeing you for now, since his answer was incorrect. He needs to be penalized somehow.

“Baby,” he whines. “I want to see you!”

“Get the questions right and maybe you will,” you threaten.

You grab ahold of his hand and drag it close to your warm body. Giving Taehyung something to visualize, you guide his palm across your fishnet leggings and up the side of your hip. He hums satisfaction, it matches the lopsided grin plastered to his face.

“Next question. Which college did Sidney and her friends get attacked at back in 1998?”

You shuffle your body forward, placing both of your legs around Taehyung’s frame as you sit on his lap. His hard-on pains with lack of touch beneath you, but your added warmth and friction helps the slightest. Taehyung’s free hand taps on his chest as he ponders the question while the one you escort up your body touches and feels you.

“Windsor College.”

“Correct!” You praise as you sit further down onto his bulge. With excitement, you bring Taehyung’s hand up to have access to your breasts. You moan softly when he takes the lead and gropes you across your chest. Making sure to feel and fondle both of them equally and with full appreciation.

“I like this game,” he comments with a gruffier voice.

“I bet you do, babe.” You lean down toward your boyfriend's face, smiling under the mask at how pretty and complacent he is under your ministrations. You allow him to continue to tug and toy with your tits, plucking at your nipples through the material when he can. But you take a fist full of his hair with your hand and hold him to the mattress. A little roughness wouldn’t hurt him. “Here’s another for you,” you hold up your fake knife against his throat. “In Stab 6, what images did the Facebook stalker use to catfish Trudy?”

Taehyung chuckles once again, tilting his head to the side as you place more pressure with the grip on his hair.

“Channing Tatum’s Abercrombie photos. I’m sure you’d enjoy those too.”

“Not as much as I enjoy you,” you smile.

Your grip releases from him as you settle back on your heels. His hand chases you, but you’re fast to move it down lower. Between the apex of your thighs. Taehyung hums at the contact and from how damp you already feel. He skillfully pets along your folds from the outside of your thong, tracing patterns across your lady-bits.

You take a moment to relish in the feeling. It nearly distracts you from your game because of how much you want him to sink his fingers inside of you.

The two of you share a warm giggle with another, noticing how your hips start to move with the pace of his fingers.

“I thought you were supposed to touch yourself?” Taehyung teases.

“Well,” you breathe. “I changed my… mind.”

Taehyung grins, “I wonder why…” he acts coy. His knuckles graze across your clit through your panties and it forces you to hold yourself by placing a hand on his chest. “Do I get another question?”

Your breath hitches, it’s becoming unbearable to breathe under your mask. You clear your throat, gripping a fist full of his shirt, “Yes. Last year, what was the name of Sheriff Judy’s son who was murdered mere minutes after her at their residence here in Woodsboro?”

A fingertip trails on the outside of your thong, tickling you in the process. Taehyung slips his digit underneath, touching your slippery pussy. It glides smoothly, easy for him to slide further to touch you deeper.

“Fuck. Tae,” you softly groan.

He reaches around with his other hand, testing how far he can go while you still hold the dominant position. His palm grips your bare ass, weaving through the pieces of fishnet leggings before ripping a piece of it apart.

“Y-Your answer?” you breathe.

“Kiss me,” he demands.

“That’s not an answer,” you laugh. You release a moan when you feel his finger twist and dip into the entrance of your pussy, slotting knuckle deep. “Tae –”

“Wes,” he whispers as he leans up. With a growl, he snakes his arm around your hips and pulls you closer to him. Taehyung nudges his face in the nook of your neck, breathing heat against your skin while he deeply chuckles. “Fuck this game,” he speaks against your neck, leaving a sensual kiss against it. The whine that escapes your lips from feeling his teeth lightly dragging along your sweet spot fills the empty room. It’s louder than anything playing on the television behind you.

Taehyung pulls you in a humping-motion against his hand that’s lodged between your thighs. He flicks against the walls of the inside of your pussy, searching for your sensitive areas.

You drop your prop as you frantically pull up Taehyung’s t-shirt, hauling it over his head to undress him as fast as possible. You curl your fingernails against his shoulders as Taehyung nibbles your skin, causing goosebumps to rise and fall.

Despite every rational part of your brain reminding you that your game is at stake, you couldn’t care less with the result anymore. You and Taehyung had your fun, even though it was brief, and now you’re ready to get down to business.

His skin is warm against yours as you push him down with you following. You rip off your mask, tossing the pathetic item to the side and appreciate a nice cool breeze of fresh air hitting your face. Sweat dampens around your hairline as your lips connect to his. You rush to remove the fabric around his eyes, using your fingers to rake along the roots of his hair.

You rock back and forth on his finger, begging for him to enter another one. Taehyung follows your lead in the make-out, tongue chasing yours as you dive deeper inside of his mouth. You groan in unison, smiling as your teeth clink with how eager the two of you are.

“You’re so hot,” he comments in between breathless kisses.

Between the sensations of his deft finger, how hungrily he eats at your mouth, and how smooth and naked he feels against you already, you feel like you’ve entered heaven.

“Oh, Tae,” you hum. Your breath comes out labored, electrified.

Briskly, you reach down between your bodies and slip your hand around the elastic of his night shorts. Your movements are quick and frenzied as you grip onto his length, feeling the heavy girth bare. Taehyung voices a choked moan, surprised with the sudden touch. Your wrist flicks as much as it can in your compromising position, enough to run your palm up and down his cock.

You feel the heat racing to your face as Taehyung slides a second finger inside of you, rubbing in a come-hither gesture. Your head nearly falls down against his shoulder as you attempt to not lose control of your body, but the feeling is so toe-curling good!

With desire, you look up through half-lidded eyes. Lust fuels your entire body, you can tell it affects Taehyung too.

“I want you in me,” you speak with kiss ridden lips. “Fuck me like this, babe.”

Taehyung wastes no time shimmying his shorts down far enough to release his cock between the two of you. His chest heaves with each shallow breath he takes. A hand comes around to playfully slap and hungrily massage at the flesh of your ass as he hoists you higher and angles himself below you.

“Move up for me, baby.” He turns his head toward you, a smile laced on his lips. Without another word, he leans forward and captures your lips in a bruising kiss while his hand rips at the thin thong that you wear. You can hear the tear audibly, but somehow it turns you on knowing how the desire within Taehyung is taking over. “Let me fuck you in this pretty little Ghostface outfit.”

You lean up for him, biting down on your lower lip as you look at Taehyung clumsily shuffling himself under you. His eyes stare at your bare, dripping pussy. Likes the way it shines with your wetness.

“That’s right, come sit on me,” he beckons as his dick taps against your pelvis. “See how sharp my weapon is,” he jokes in a sexy manner.

Cracking up with laughter, you lift enough to feel him at your entrance. His bulbous mushroom head feels so nice and smooth, ready to glide right in.

Your hand comes out to grip around Taehyung’s throat, a surprise for both you and him. Yet something in the back of your mind tells you that this is good. Something he may enjoy with your power-play move tonight. Slowly, and only lightly, do you squeeze around the column of his neck, raising your eyebrows as you anticipate his sign of protest.

You take him in with one movement, hissing at the sensation the moment you sit flat on his lap. He fills you full, your cunt thanks you with vibrating pulses around him. Allowing a few moments and testing thrusts to go by, you adjust accordingly. Until you’re ready to go faster.

Harder.

Every bounce has his dick reaching deeper inside of you, opening you wider and dragging against every inch of your velvety walls. You search for his eyes when you tighten your grip around his neck, but you see nothing but pure enjoyment on his face. Taehyung moans as his hands help lead you with each swivel of your hips. His mouth is parted, eyes fluttering shut with exhilaration shooting through his nerves.

“Shit,” he seethes through his teeth. “Baby slow down, I'm going to cum.”

But you don’t listen to his plea. You want him to cum. Bust his nut and lose control because of you. So you set yourself, pushing harder down onto his cock and riding your boyfriend for all he’s worth. Even selfishly rutting your clit into his pelvic bone to get yourself off.

You notice the way Taehyung’s eyebrows downturn with a spike of fury. “Baby,” he warns as his voice gets cut off from you moving the hand on his neck to his mouth. You cover his lips, hushing him from putting up a fight.

Though, Taehyung does not take a liking to that.

Within a snap of a finger, Taehyung hoists his body up enough to gain an advantage on you. He twists around fast, pushing you to the side as he slips out of your grasp. Taehyung’s hands move you around, holding you with your chest against the mattress as your ass stays up.

“Tae, wait!” you laugh and beg. You try to wiggle out of the position, but he pins you down by your arms. “I want to make you cum!”

“Oh, trust me,” he huffs. “You and only you will make me cum.”

Taehyung takes a handful of your ass before spreading your cheeks open. He stands behind you before inserting himself, sliding his cock in from a brand new angle.

You groan out loud, pulling your legs together. The mattress’s sheets ball in your fists as Taehyung thrusts inside of you at a steady pace. Your body shifts up on the bed, but keeps getting dragged back down against Taehyung’s lap. He’s amazed how fast you fall apart with your whole body tensing against him.

The small moans you try to hide are highly cherished by him. Fuels Taehyung to keep pressing forward and pile-drive his cock into you.

“Oh fuck, fuck!” You curse with your face pressed down. You purposely muffle your noises to not disturb the neighboring guests in the other rooms. The phone is still unplugged so at least you won’t be receiving any noise complaints through there.

You encourage Taehyung with the higher moans. It tells him to fill you up, go harder and faster all at once. His cock starts to twitch as he draws near to his release, ready to burst his entire load all because of you.

“Do it with me,” he demands as his cock dives deeper into you. His pelvis slaps hard against your backside, hoping to force you to your orgasm. “I can feel you tightening up, baby. Cum for me. Show me how this slutty Ghostface cums.”

You turn your head to the side to gasp for fresh air. Through your lashes it’s not hard to tell that the camera is still on the two of you, now performing a surprise sex-tape. The thought crosses your mind and it makes you curious if Taehyung has noticed as well.

“Babe,” you whine with the pressure of his dick inside of you, “Babe the camera?”

You can hear the smile in his chuckle when he reaches for the recording device. Taehyung still maintains his pace while now capturing a new view. From the back, the screen records your entire backside and how his lengthy cock slithers in and out of your folds. Your black lingerie compliments you so beautifully, Taehyung never wants to forget about it.

The slapping from skin on skin resounds so loudly, almost covering the noise from the television. It only quickens when Taehyung sets into another drive.

He calls you by your pet name, grinning as you mewl over the size and speed of his cock. He compliments you through the camera while one hand holds you tight by the hip.

“Touch yourself,” he commands. “Reach down there and play with yourself.”

You obey, slithering your fingers between your legs and begin rubbing circles against your swollen clit. Your teeth bite a mouthful of the sheets below you as Taehyung fastens his pace, matching the eagerness of your digits.

“Mmf!” you groan as a build up inside you finally shatters. Cracking like a whip against your nerves and shooting sparks of pleasure throughout you. Your back arches harshly, almost knocking Taehyung off his balance as you press back into him. Cunt so eager to get fucked.

The camera drops to the side of the bed as your boyfriend firmly places his other hand around your thigh, anchoring himself to your body as you ride out your orgasm. He holds you against him, dick submerged as deep as he can go as he stills. Shifting his hips ever so slightly as his cock quivers as cum spurts out the tip, dressing your cervix and inner walls.

“Mm, yeah,” he voices with a slack jaw. His hips continue to roll into you slowly, pushing every ounce of cum into your pussy. “I wasn’t risking dirtying the outfit,” he huffs.

You continue to wiggle with the aftermath vibrations throughout your body, but you giggle nonetheless. Craning your head enough to look back at your handsome boyfriend you smile brightly.

“How kind of you,” you speak in sarcasm. “I’m sure that wasn’t the only reason why you want to cum inside of me.” You clench down on his lodged cock to tease him again, watching the way his face suddenly contorts to a painful, sensitive reaction.

“I thank you for taking birth control, for not just sexy time, but…” he anxiously confesses. “Actually, no. Right now, I really thank you for taking it.”

“I know what you were trying to say,” you comment lightheartedly. “It helps with more than just ‘sexy time’.”

“I love you,” he states to clear the air. “I really do,” he playfully pulls at a garter belt connected to your stocking and corset. It snaps back in place against your skin, “You’re my favorite person in the world.”

“I love you too,” you smile as you prop yourself up by your elbows. “And Happy Anniversary!”

Taehyung lifts the disposed Ghostface mask off the floor after he detaches himself from you. He inspects the item, flipping it back and forth. He smiles, giving you a quick eyebrow raise and sparkling look.

“My turn?” He questions as he pulls the mask over his head and allows it to sit on his face. “Let’s play some more games, baby.”

You slip on a nice early fall dress that pairs with your brown booties. The jean jacket you want to wear lounges on the back of the chair beside you, waiting to be picked up once you finish tightening a belt around your waist.

A small lingering ache rests between your legs from the previous night. Taehyung surely had fun with you. You wince when he comes out of the bathroom from his shower, noticing the bruise on the side of his forehead that has formed a small grotesque spot.

“I’m sorry again,” you inspect lightly. Stopping him in his tracks, your finger touches the bump. “It doesn’t look as bad as I thought it would though.”

“It’s alright, it’s my fault for having my head too close to yours when I tried to… you know.”

You shrug, “Yeah. Might need to give a girl a warning before touching her asshole.”

Your lips softly peck the swollen spot on his head before you allow him to continue to his clothes. Mentally, you check off all the items you have already packed back up in your bags in preparation of departure.

The television plays the local news aimlessly in the background as you scroll through your phone. You can barely hear from how low the volume is, but an alert blurts on the screen in bold red lettering.

“Breaking News! –”

“Baby, can you pull up the directions for Fairvale? The Bates Motel shouldn’t be too far from here,” your gruff voiced boyfriend askes.

You blink, trying to listen to both the conversations. “Sure. Did you gather everything from the bathroom?”

Taehyung slips his pants up his legs as a toothbrush is lodged in his mouth. Multitasking at its finest. He brushes his teeth as he dresses himself, pulling over his shirt section by section. He grunts a noise, one you know well that means he already finished putting everything together.

“Murdered! Several bodies have been found! Adding to the Woodsboro mystery of horrors. This once peaceful, now suffering community, continues to be terrorized and haunted by masked killings. Like out of some plot of a horror movie.”

Both you and Taehyung freeze at the commentary coming from the television in the corner of the hotel room. Stunned, you watch the news reporter stand in front of what seems to be the Macher’s house. Which is now turned into a funhouse for visiting horror-enthusiasts.

“No fuckin’ way…” Taehyung murmurs as he watches ideally as the images begin to show. Caution tape, police cars, and ambulances surround the reporter who holds their microphone to their mouth. “No way this shit is real.”

“We… we were there last night…” you trail off.

“Just after midnight, a masked killer wreaked havoc through an attraction site for –”

“Do you think…” Taehyung begins to speak.

“... I don’t want to think,” you stand up abruptly. “I just… Can we go?”

You glance at Taehyung nervously, but you’re already gripping your jacket and sliding it on your arms. Something spikes deep inside of you, something that shocks you. Maybe Woodsboro isn’t the best place for you to be, even though you once thought everything would be fine. Searching for your purse, you lift all of your bags in one heave.

“Hey, hey!” Taehyung tries to calm you down with a softer tone. “Hey, listen. Just wait for a second!”

His hand grips you by your elbow, pulling you gently back toward him.

Taehyung’s hands find their way around your body, touching your face in a caressing kind of way. His thumb runs over the curve of your cheek while he looks into your frantic eyes.

“It’s ok to feel freaked out. This is freaking me out as well,” he comments. “Don’t go running so fast. Stay with me, baby.” He tries to sooth your speeding thoughts. “We’ll leave together.”

Moodboard themed credited to: @/kth1 (me)

#welcome to woodsboro #bangtansorciere #bangtanarmynet #dailydaegu #thebtswritersclub #tae smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #scream au #kth1 #bts one shot #taehyung one shot #kim taehyung smut #bts x reader #btsdreamcourt #bangtan cinema: horror night

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prodigal-explorer · 4 months

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your turn to die ship pairings that i think would be interesting:

1. reko x nao. thé lesbians!!! i know this is not remotely a rare pair but i feel like this ship is super interesting because they’re so different but when it comes to core values they have a lot in common. they both care so deeply about other people and form attachments quickly. and in a way, i feel like when they’re together, they’re stronger. nao helps reign reko in when her emotions get the better of her, and reko helps keep nao centered and focused in times of crisis. i just think it works so well.

2. sara x nao. this is a ship that is technically frowned upon in america (since sara is 17 and nao is 18-19 ish) but in japan there’s no problem with it i’m pretty sure? idk. they’re so close in age anyway that i personally don’t see it as an issue but maybe that’s just me. i feel like it would work similarly to reko x nao but to me, sara and nao both have a very strong inner peace that makes them stronger than they seem on the outside. though nao is a bit volatile in times of distress, for the most part, she’s very thoughtful and gentle. sara on the other hand is logical and sharp, and i feel like these two personalities would work super well together because they both think so deeply about the world and try to have faith in others.

3. kai x shin. okay this one sounds weird but hear me out. they’re both somewhat vulnerable young adults who put on a front in order to seem untouchable. i feel like since they have this in common, they would understand and trust each other, and be able to break down the walls that they both created. i also think since neither of them are very socially adept, they would enjoy each others’ strange senses of humors, and there would be no weird power imbalance that might throw shin off. even though kai is powerful, he’s also very humble, and he rarely actually causes danger. shin would likely find comfort in kai more than fear, and kai would feel little instinct to protect somebody who is already so clearly capable. also shin showing kai how to use a smartphone and kai making shin eggs benedict.

4. q-taro x mai. okay yeah i know that mai like lowkey almost killed q-taro or whatever but like mistakes happen mai is literally just a girl. anyway i think especially out of the context of the game, these two would make such a cute couple! they both sort of come off as selfish, but they both care a lot about their effect on the world and the people around them, and they both have a lot of passion! i feel like they would just match each other’s energies and support each others’ ambitions with enthusiasm which is just so cute to imagine.

5. sara x ranmaru. okay considering their situation in the game i highly doubt that this is a rarepair in any capacity. but i sort of see this as an opposites attract sort of deal? sara is so connected to the world and fiery and passionate while ranmaru is sort of detached and in his own world. but i could see them complementing each other very well. ranmaru being the constant gentle hand on sara’s shoulder, quietly protective, and sara inch by inch pulling ranmaru out of his shell and showing him how vibrant the world could really be if he just let himself exist in it. idk i think it would be cool!

i’m not sure how much i truly ship these pairings but i think they’re at least kinda fun to think about!

#your turn to die #yttd #your turn to die fandom #prodigal yttd #shin tsukimi #mai yttd #kai satou #q taro burgerberg #yttd qtaro #reko yabusame #nao egokoro #sara chidouin #ranmaru yttd

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my-own-walker · 5 months

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Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

17.

Learn to let go of what's not meant to be held.

It's easier said than done, but it must be done. It's something that carried me through the days leading up to Halloween. I felt that any feelings toward Kyle, negative or positive, were not meant to stay. I used everything I could to distract myself.

I didn't dare look in his direction during class on Monday. The goal was to remain transfixed on my note-taking. I listened to music wherever and whenever I could, avoiding Sonic Youth like the plague for obvious reasons.

Lily took me everywhere she went if she and I didn't have class. We took a trip to a nearby shopping center to get our Halloween costumes in order.

"Hannah, would this cover my ass?" Lily asked, holding up the shortest red pleather skirt I had ever seen.

"Not a chance in hell," I laughed, turning my attention back to the rack I had been flipping through. She sighed loudly, dropping her arms down to her sides. "Wear shorts underneath. Or bloomers."

"It took me this damn long to find a red skirt, how will I find red shorts for underneath?" she whined, exasperated.

"Get your ass to work, Davies."

She planned to be a cute little devil, complete with horns and a pitchfork. She had already bought a headband with dainty sequined horns fastened on it and a black bustier top embellished with chunky red rhinestones. I, of course, was to be the angel. I already found a small pair of white wings.

My idea was to be an angel in the way Juliet was in the 1996 movie version of Romeo and Juliet. So when my eyes landed upon the long, empire-waisted white dress on the rack, I nearly squealed in the middle of the store.

Lily got invited to a party that was to be at the TKE house on Halloween. She asked me, very delicately, if I'd like to attend it with her. While my every instinct was screaming "no," I kept true to letting go of things that were not to be held. While my fears over what happened were very real, I did not want to rot away in my apartment for the remainder of my college experience.

Thursday, aka Halloween, was spent skipping class and running last-minute errands. We bought some red lipstick for Lily, a pack of rubber bands for my hair, and most importantly, liquor. I would only feel safe if we were drinking our own liquor.

We sat getting ready in my room, Lily sitting on the floor, my full-length mirror just inches from her face as she leaned in close to paint on some eyeliner. I sat at my desk with a tabletop mirror, creating two small braids in my hair that I would form into a halo with pins and elastics. Arctic Monkeys albums played softly over my small speaker.

"How are you feeling?" Lily asked, breaking the lapse in conversation.

"Me?"

"No, the other person in this room right now," she snarked. I turned to look at her. She had moved on to brushing blush over her cheeks. I opted for minimal makeup, so I was already done. She still needed her hair done.

"I'm a little nervous, I guess," I admitted, "but I think this will be fun."

"Just let me know if you want to leave and we will. No questions asked," she said sternly. "I'm not playing any games tonight. I will kill a motherfucker if I have to."

I pinned down one braid and dropped my hands into my lap, then turned to face her. "I love you, Lily. Seriously. You are my best friend."

"Don't on me with the sentimental shit right now, Martin. I will kiss you," she joked, turning to face me.

"I dare you," I replied, then breaking out into a fit of laughter.

We got to the party around 11. It was already in full swing. We got rather drunk while pre-gaming at the apartment, so no part of me cared about how crowded it was. I guessed everybody's week must have been tough, though. Everyone was drunk, loud, or pissed off.

On the front stoop alone, there were two sets of people arguing about god knows what. The front door opened to a barrage of music and voices. It smelled of latex and hairspray with all of the Halloween costumes inside. We found a place to settle in the second living room along the wall.

It wasn't long before Lily found someone she knew and disappeared into the crowd. Not before asking me if I would be okay alone roughly thirty times. I insisted everything would be fine. I was confident I could find someone to talk to.

I meandered around for a while, stopping here and there to chat with a few people I vaguely knew. It was when I crossed into the kitchen, though, that my stomach turned. Standing next to the doorway I had just walked through was a tall figure.

"Hey, angel," his deep voice spoke. This voice was low and quiet, he said a secret no one else but me could know. I turned my head to my left slowly, my gaze landing on Julian's deep, tired eyes. His full lips curled into a wry smile.

Before, the way he towered over me was endearing. Something that gave me butterflies. At this moment, though it felt downright terrifying. Suffocating, even. He could easily overpower me and cause me harm.

Without a word, I turned on my heel, crashing into the poor girl in the cat costume standing behind me. "S-sorry, I-" I stammered, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady myself before bolting for the front door.

The night was cool. I rushed to the edge of the stoop where there was a railing and gripped it for dear life, letting the cold metal remind me I was on Earth. I took in the fresh air of the night, but it was soured by a cigarette smell, making it clear that I was not alone. A boy with a mop of tight curls smirked over at me.

"Wanna smoke?" he offered, holding out his cigarette to me. "You look like you need it."

"Fuck it," I muttered, grabbing it from him and taking a long drag. I handed it back to him and blew a large cloud of smoke out into the night.

"You're Hannah?" he asked, unprompted, before taking a drag.

"Yes...what's it to you?" I inquired, brow furrowed. I was growing tired of men and their stupid attempts to talk to me.

"I'm Lance. Lance Hamont," he answered while exhaling smoke. He held out the cigarette for me again and I took it. "I'm in KLG."

I took a drag and blew it out upwards. "Right, right. I don't think we've ever formally met."

"Yeah, I've just seen you a lot is all. Guess that's how I knew you'd need a smoke," he chuckled.

"Oh?"

"You know, dealing with Kyle and all," he shrugged before inhaling more smoke. "I've seen you come through the house a lot this semester." His voice sounded funny as he tried to hold in the cigarette's vapors.

"That was for a project, that's all" I answered quickly, trying to end the Kyle subject. "He was my project partner for a class."

"Really?" he asked, cocking his head. "You weren't dating? The amount he talked about you I figured you were."

"Talked about me?" I exaggeratedly repeated. I reached for the cigarette and he handed it over. I took in a large puff of smoke and held it in for a beat longer like Lance had just done.

"Oh god, all the time. Just this week even," he scoffed. "You two close at least?"

"Not really," I trailed off, growing despondent. I handed him the cigarette back while staring off into middle distance.

"Damn," he laughed. "He's always mentioning 'Hannah' -er, you, in conversation. That's weird."

"Yeah..." I whispered, backing up a few steps before turning to walk inside. "Thanks, Lance."

"You owe me a smoke next time I see you!" he called after me.

I don't even smoke. I replied in my thoughts.

I found Lily in the front room sitting on a side table. She was talking to a girl in a cute sailor costume. I grabbed her shoulder to make my presence known.

"Hey, baby!" she exclaimed. Party vibes had already gotten to her. "Maddie, you've met Hannah, right?"

"Yes!" the sailor, Maddie, smiled. I didn't remember meeting her ever, but I returned the smile and nodded.

"Right," I grinned.

"I was just talking to the most interesting person, Hannah," Lily smirked, raising her eyebrows. Maddie got bored and turned away to speak to someone else. "He was asking how you were."

"God, I can't even deal right now," I groaned. I screwed my eyes shut and tilted my head back. The night was already annoying enough as it was. No answer she was going to give me was going to make things any better.

"Who was asking about me?"

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#evan peters #evan peters fic #ahs #evan peters x reader #evan peters x female reader #evan peters oneshot #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer imagine #kyle spencer fanfic

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yiga-hellhole · 5 months

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TWILIGHT FOREST, TWILIGHT KING: CHAPTER 15

AND IT'S OUT! i've been going ravenous with writing. you lot aren't rid of me yet!! with he siege on Death Mountain now behind them, two co-lieutenants struggle with the consequences of their failures. trust shatters, foundations wobble, and fond memories are under threat. should the campaign move forward, petty distractions must be done away with.

or, you know, you can dance with your boy.

again thank you to @bulgariansumo for proofreading. this chapter is best enjoyed with a bit of moody piano music, but i took a liking to this playlist personally so you can listen along while you read, if you like! 8.6k-ish under the cut! iiiit's a fun one!

ao3 mirror

Their gathering was grim. Sounds of celebration rang from the tents outside, but in the war room, there was nothing but silence. Two co-lieutenants stood at the center of it all, the eyes of their generals upon them. Anxiety, dread, and ultimatum. The Demon King had summoned them for a reason.

“For one so eager to win my praise, you certainly are adamant to disappoint me. It seems I must set an example for you.”

Ghirahim stood stock-still as Ganondorf stepped towards him, his massive frame towering over him like the very Mountain he’d failed him on. He flinched but did not step away as he snatched his wrist and wrenched it above his head. A groan escaped him when he was lifted off his feet, all of his weight dangling from this one arm. He hung mere inches from his face. The Demon King’s eyes were blazing with rage, his tusks bared with the snarling curl of his lip. He was frozen yet scorched by those burning yellow irises, drawn into the gold that swirled within.

“Such sickening submission. You wish to be a blade? Very well. Let me show you where the mercy of my hands will take you.”

The hand at his wrist squeezed firmly, hard enough to crack his false skin, but he didn’t have long enough to dwell on the feeling. From that very gauntlet, a searing pain burst out and soon spread throughout his entire body. Shocks of electrocution ricocheted inside him, persistent and thorough in their surging quest to tear him to pieces. Every joint he had tightened. His fingers contorted into claws and his head threw back, mouth agape in a soundless scream — though, if he had screamed, he never would have heard it. It was an untold pain, of being struck with a thousand whips that would not cease. His skin shed, or rather, burst apart before his very eyes. Soon after, his vision went white, whether from pain alone or complete system failure. Something cracked ominously in his chest. Like it was trying to jump out and abandon him, leaving nothing but a husk to be beaten. He was shattering, he knew it, not in his core but in the shell forged around it. One last zap, one crackle, and a deafening drone, and he came undone.

At once, he folded in on himself, and the world went black.

—

When Ghirahim awoke, he was limbless. Even if he could not so much as crane his head or twitch his fingers, the feeling comforted him more than it shocked him. Indeed, he had gotten his wish, but not in the way he’d wanted it. Master Ganondorf had reverted him to his sword. Not pulled him free from his chest, as his predecessor had always done, but tore apart the scabbard around him and forced it inside.

His gem blinked weakly, chimed inquiringly. Where was he? It was pitch dark around him, but his confinement couldn’t be all too large. He found himself in what he concluded could only be some kind of storage box, locked away in some secluded room who-knows-where. It was dead silent — wherever he lay hidden away, with his steel tucked in straw and creaky wood, not even servants lingered.

But before he could sink himself into gloom, a spark of panic lit up in him. Soon, it billowed out enough to rattle him in his hilt. Had he been retired? Discarded from his position, or worse, sold to whoever would take a cursed blade off his hands?

Were he to leave this coffin, would he find himself buried six feet deep?

His false skin materialized back around his blade before he realized it, and began frantically kicking at the lid of this accursed box. Wood groaned, nails wrenched free, and soon, he could press his palms to the ceiling and throw it out his way.

He shot up and took in his surroundings. Circling his container were various other crates, of which none fortunately barred his exit. Perhaps his awakening and subsequent escape were accounted for and his way was left clear for that very reason.

Only then did he notice himself panting. Knees pressed to his chest, he stared down into his casket. His hands found the center of his chest. He hadn’t been shattered, nor did he feel like anything impaired him. By all means, he could count his blessings. Despite disobeying orders, despite failing at their mission, Master Ganondorf had permitted him to continue his duty. All he’d done was set an example, as he promised.

But then, what was it that shook his hands so? What filled him with such hollow melancholy?

Tiring of this drab, dust-covered storage room, he swung one leg over the edge of the crate and clambered his way down. Now that he’d awakened, he at least had to find out where the transport had carried him. He stumbled toward the door — to find it unlocked — and promptly left that storage hole behind him.

His feet landed on a checkered floor, its tiles cracked in various locations but caulked back in place. The walls were in a similar state; opulent in their make, but damaged throughout various sieges. Various, indeed. It didn’t take much to find out where he was. He has walked these halls as both ally and foe. As he padded on through them once again, he took some time to note the differences since his last visit. Here and there, signs of scuffle were cracked into the stone, and dust-free rectangles upon the walls hinted that paintings once hung here. The dreary, yet tastefully ominous dark purple light of the place was all too iconic, as were the rogue rose branches that persisted through the windows. They had taken him to the Temple of Souls, better known as Cia’s private home and former base of operations.

Yes, he remembered dwelling here. With some luck, his old room was still in place as he’d left it. Back then, Cia had bribed him with all sorts of knick-knacks and luxuries in the hope of appeasing him, and it had worked. He wondered if the vices of his materialism would still appeal to him now.

He continued onward, making his way through the puzzling architecture. There wasn’t a particular goal in mind as to where he was heading. Some manner of purpose, a duty to attend to, or an idea as to how long he’d been slumbering in that box at the least. A heavy wooden door opened to a porch outside, clung to a tower with a spiral staircase down. He idly pondered the oddity of the lack of servants he’d encountered as he made his way down. Had the Master sent him there in solitude? Such abandonment was an unbearable thought. No matter if he’d left him the world in silks and marbles, he wouldn’t be left alone. Wouldn’t be left without purpose. He continued down the path, trudging its petal-strewn floors. The air was pink with sundown and roses, rich and floral with scented dew, but he paid it no mind.

Out chimed a familiar, lilting voice, coming from outside the colonnade. “Ghirahim!”

Shaken from a daze, he looked to his left, eyes still hooded over. There stood Yuga, decked in corset and frills with a bonnet covering his curls, a watering can in hand. “You’ve awoken at last! Oh, how relieved I am to see you.”

Ghirahim simply stared back, mind empty of any response. What was he supposed to say? There stood a man who had witnessed him at his weakest, who had seen how easily he’d shattered to pieces. It astounded Ghirahim that after all that, he still hailed him, expecting mere smalltalk. At least he wasn’t alone. Ganondorf wouldn’t retire Yuga after a successful campaign. He took momentary solace in the possibility of a simple relocation. Yet, the fondness he once felt for that foppish sorcerer remained abstract in his mind and passed right through him like an arrow through fog.

When it dawned on Yuga that he had no intention of approaching him, a stiff, worried frown tightened his brows, sucked in his lips.

What was that look for?

Front of his skirt bunched in his sheer gloved hand, Yuga trotted on towards him. Up the stairs, and into the colonnade, he hooked his arm around his. Ghirahim looked down at the contact he’d pulled him in, a touch puzzled, but he didn’t find the need to shove him off. Yuga tugged on him a bit, as if trying to shake him out of a dream, and began to babble of sorts. “We’ve been worried sick, you know. We tried to look for you, but… The servants wouldn’t tell us where they’d hidden you. If it weren’t for the annoyance it would bring to our Ganondorf, we’d have turned the entire Temple upside-down. He’s already peeved enough with Zant as is. You understand.”

He didn’t. He didn’t understand the search, the risk, the worry. What he could only assume Yuga alluded to, though, he did understand. If there was any proof out there of the consequences of Ganondorf’s wrath, it was daintily being clutched by the man beside him.

At the continued lack of response, Yuga’s expression darkened further. Ghirahim came to the infuriating realization that he was being pitied. The Lorian’s eyes darted out into the sights before them. “Come on,” he quickly posited. “Let’s take a walk, shall we? Stretching your legs will do you good.”

Before he could give even an inch of a vocal response, Yuga already tugged him along. Arm in arm, they left the dark and murky sheltering of the temple and stepped out into the garden. Ghirahim gave a bit of a sigh as they waded into the overgrown labyrinth, crushing petals under their soles as they went. At this time of year, there were more roses scattered on the paths than still hung blooming on the bushes. Even so, this didn’t seem to deter Yuga from pampering the entire floral expanse as he saw fit. The beauty-obsessed sorcerer was stretching out the lives of this garden, basking in its scarlets, pinks, whites, and oranges until the wind would finally scatter all of its flowers and wither it into a maze of thorns. It was an empty husk already, robbed of its owner. All her precious statues, except where every few corners one remained, had been removed from their pedestals. Knowing what stood in their places once, he couldn’t exactly say he minded.

In one ear, out the other, Yuga had been yammering on for some time now. Frankly, he’d have had more luck talking to the statues in passing, for they would have given him more ear than he could muster. An odd feeling, right on the thin thread between interest and irritation, emerged in him when he realized just what all this fussing was for. Yuga must have thought to try and comfort him. The last they saw each other, after all, was when he was in the hands of…

“Yuga.”

The sorcerer in question perked up immediately at the first sounds of his voice, a bright smile barely masking his concern. “Yes?”

Ghirahim saw Yuga trying to meet his eye, but he refused it, keeping his gaze out in front of him. “What brings us to Cia’s dwelling?”

Yuga exclaimed softly at the query. “Master Ganondorf thought it impudent to seek an outpost worthy of housing both Himself and his lieutenants. One closer to Hyrule Castle, you see. You’ve… Missed, the briefings, but in due time we will prepare a siege on Hyrule Field to claim the remaining pieces of the Triforce. The Temple was closest, is all.”

Ghirahim hummed. As he’d feared, his importance was being undermined. “And how long have I been sleeping through my duties?”

“Oh, it’s not so drastic, we,” Yuga started, but was soon forced into reconsidering his words by a dark scowl burning into his peripheral vision. “… A little over a week, Milord.”

A week… Heaving a sigh, his head dropped. In all that time, no one had thought to wake him. Their army had held up just fine without him, fine enough for their commanders to play dress-up and trot about in the greenery. A bitterness he couldn’t place nestled in him, for this feeling was entirely unknown to him. He had been rejected, he had been left behind, but never before had he not been needed.

A gust of wind coursed through the garden, knocking the petals off some of the roses behind them. In the nook of his elbow, Yuga shuddered just a bit but knew better than to tuck himself closer to the cold frame of his companion. For the first time since awakening, Ghirahim craned his head up, ever-so-gently lifting himself from the downtrodden drone-like solemnity that kept his eyes on the ground before him. The pinks and oranges of the sky were gradually turning to purple. East of them, framing the Temple like a lifted bridal veil, the first stars speckled the darkening sky. It must have been getting chilly for such a frail man.

They continued walking. He didn’t want to drag this little get-together out longer than he had to. If Yuga was going out of his way to put himself in a state of discomfort, it was better spent on someone capable of actually appreciating such an effort. The pink-speckled path swirled on and on; though he wasn’t as familiar with its layout anymore, he knew it wouldn’t be long until they came out the other end, and he could finally retreat to a better spending of his time.

A stone-hewn shape to his left completely stopped him in his tracks. It ripped his eyelids fully open and yanked Yuga nearly out of balance with how harshly he came to a halt.

There he stood. Serene yet with stubborn mischief hidden behind the subtlest crinkle of his eyes, marble fingers caressing the false golden strings of a harp. Ghirahim knew that face anywhere. He couldn’t believe Yuga would have been able to see into him so deeply as to copy that smile with such clarity when it had taken him months to do as much as evoke it. Before him stood not just any carnation of the Hero, it was the one he’d known.

Yuga let out a bit of an embarrassed laugh as he noticed him staring at the statue. “It’s quite dreadful, isn’t it? To have depictions of one’s arch nemesis in their dwelling. I can’t stand the boy myself, but… They’re still my work, you know?” He began to babble, a hand brought to his cheek. “No matter if it depicts such a distasteful subject, there are other aspects one can admire, I would say. It took quite a bit of begging to get Master Ganondorf to let me keep at least a few… No doubt he’ll put me to work to fill in the empty pedestals, though. If I don’t do so of my own accord, that is!”

It was a masterful depiction, one that parted his lips in a painful, smothered awe. Past the marble, he could almost see that russet-blond hair and the deep, ocean-blue eyes. As if any second its exterior could chip, and the boy within would break free. And how he’d seize that brat with his own hands, tear the blood-soaked thread that bound them in his lifetime to shreds with nothing but his teeth. Link had been one of the first smudges on his soul, one that tainted his resolve and made him so disgustingly frivolous. Every last star in the skies above would have to snuff out before he’d forgive him for it.

Yes, he’d had guilty pleasures before. He’d toyed, he’d teased, and he’d indulged in what he shouldn’t have. They had all been shaken off easily with no room for tears to shed. Each and every one of them had gotten in the way of his goal, and every time he’d drawn close to that great life’s light, petty distractions had to be done away with. See now, how clinging to such a selfish desire had strayed him so far from his purpose, far enough to be punished. It was below him to allow such foolishness to continue for this long. He’d cut those ties before, burned bridges till their ashes shaped back into objects of rivalrous disdain.

This one would be just as easy to sever.

He narrowed his eyes, clarity at once clearing the fog of his judgment. What lay behind it was frustration. Knives that didn’t belong there drove into his core with every pulse. It smothered him, tightening his chest and hitching his voice. “… You mentioned Zant. Is he also here?”

“He is, indeed,” Yuga nodded, looking instantly a little brighter. There was no point in shattering that little glimmer, at least not right then. “He’s been holed up in that library since… Well, since we arrived here, really. You ought to go see him now that you’re awake. Surely he’ll be glad to see you.”

Ghirahim fought against a bitter laugh building up in his throat but decided to let it slip. “Surely.”

—

The library was tricky to find, but easy enough for a demon. The hallways winded on and on, the nonsensical architecture of the Temple of Souls making navigation difficult for any regular man, but second nature to a being of darkness. Besides, the pitiful meeting with their second-newest recruit was a bit too fresh in his mind to forget the steps he’d traced. Corridors overlapped with each other as if clipped in at different angles, and if you’d asked him, he may have walked onto a separate plane of gravity about three times now. Within good time, though, he stood before tall, twin ornate doors. Gold filigree swirled into purple paneling, jutting out into claw-like doorknobs at shoulder height. Ghirahim seized both in his hands and pushed, stepping into the shadowy room beyond.

It was as if a horde of wild animals had ravaged it. Books lay strewn across the floor, sheets of paper tying them all together like a makeshift map. Not a single candle lit the library. Were it not for the cold beams of dusk light that entered through the tall windows above, it would have been pitch dark. Entire shelves had been emptied, either onto the floor or stacked into wobbly towers on the reading desks, sending centuries upon centuries of dust flying in the air above them like gnats in a swamp. In the center of it all, hunched over a spread of books with shoulders shaking and his back heaving with his breath, stood Zant.

At the sound of the doors creaking open, he whipped around, a ravenous look contorted his face into a snarl. Something so desperate and territorial he’d only ever seen before in the eyes of beasts, standing over the carcass of fresh kill and daring anything that surrounded it to try and take its rightful meal. The glare that aimed at him, glowing and orange in the shadow-consumed room, zoned in on him like a grave keeper’s lantern.

Yet, when a spark of recognition lit in those burning orbs, in an instant, that crazed expression was gone. Instead, something of a solemn relief softened his face. His voice shook a little as he spoke, just barely above a whisper.

“Oh, Ghirahim…”

At once, he took to the air. Feather-light he bounded over the carpet of books that covered the floor, seemingly uncaring of how many pages turned, or how many sheets of paper he whisked away in his advance. His robes fluttered behind him, before he came to a halt before him, only the slightest sigh of wind puffing out below him in his landing.

“You’ve returned to us.”

Were there any apprehension in Zant from the distance he’d wedged between them, not a shred of it was visible. Those lanky fingers — cold, even through the gloves — reached out for him instantly to take his hands. His head cocked, eyes wide-set and overshadowed by a worried frown, as he tried to lean into his eye contact. Ghirahim could see it in his periphery as he scowled down at the ground, that insistence to meet his eye. Yet it wasn’t the suffocating, pulse-quickening gaze he was so used to being snared into. Those eyes only looked at him with concern, with heartsickness. Even as he stood there, exuding nothing but coldness and avoidance, Zant kept making those odd little squeaks and hums as if they were sitting cheek to cheek at their bedside.

… How was he making this so difficult?

He hadn’t even shaken off those hands, that now started gently rubbing their thumbs over his knuckles. Every little stroke of his withered thumbs sent sparks beneath his skin. They snaked his way in tingles down his arms, before they swelled into his chest with apprehension. What was intended as a comforting gesture only made him anxious. One more nudge and he would be past that threshold again, tumbling into his arms and robbing him of all clarity. Such weakness was unbecoming of him; rather, it went against his entire being, to be so easily swayed into being charmed by a man he couldn’t trust. He had to chase those questions that swarmed in his mind before he could once again be distracted from them.

Ghirahim flicked his hands off, folding his arms to prevent Zant from stealing him away again. “You owe me an explanation. Several, in fact.”

Zant withdrew his hands, hovering in their sleeves before his chest. The mournful worry that spread its gray hues across his face soon shattered. His eyes widened, lacing themselves with the resigned fear of a cornered animal. “What do you wish to know?”

He wondered where to begin. Any other time he would prefer to be subtle, to tease out what he wanted and kick his adversary while they’re down for good measure. Zant owed him his secrecy for having strung him along with such anxiety, but he didn’t feel the mood to collect his dues. He simply wanted his questions answered, and the door shut behind him.

So he did away with all his filters, and let it all bubble forth. “Your behavior during our siege… It defied everything I’ve known of you. You are tense with some sort of burden you won’t divulge, and it’s made you erratic in ways you’ve never been before. But perhaps you have been this cryptic, and it simply took me too long to realize.”

Dourness quickly boiled over to fury. Ghirahim paced as he talked, gesturing wildly as he let himself get sucked into his venting anger. “To ask you of- of any sense, in that labyrinthine head of yours may be as impossible to you as it is to me, but Zant, as it stands, I cannot have faith in any of our cooperation if you remain so,” he paused, his hands clawing in his hair with building frustration. “So… Impossible! Perplexing and intangible!”

He whipped around at once, sweeping his arm in emphasis. “So I demand you now to explain yourself, before…”

Silence fell. He couldn’t think of a way to finish that question. Before, what, exactly? Before he’d lose trust in him? There wasn’t much more of that which he could lose. Before he’d leave him? He was already planning on cutting those amicable ties, but as tied together by their duty as they were, he could never flee from him fully. There was simply no point in making promises he couldn’t keep. So he stayed silent.

It appeared to have been enough to convey his point. Zant’s expression had fallen further.

Zant sighed through his nose, tightening his mouth to a thin line. “You are right in your assessment, Ghirahim. I was careless,” he responded, fidgeting with one of his tassels as his eyes darted wildly for some safe place to rest his gaze. Ghirahim’s furious magnetism won the battle over his avoidance, he noted in petty self-satisfaction, as soon that lanky fool couldn’t help but look at him.

Ghirahim stood firm, chin tipped as he glared up at him, even when Zant so meekly stepped forward to loom closer to him. His voice was more hushed now. Ghirahim couldn’t recall any other time he sounded so timid. “I tell you this in confidence, now, Ghirahim, for I do not wish to give the impression that I distrust our Master’s actions, much less let such a rumor spread through our forces.”

His brow bones furrowed and his expression turned grave. “Truthfully, I had known from the start that any attack on Death Mountain could only lead to an ambush. Yet, I could not sway our Master into reconsidering our approach. I could not keep those frustrations from leaking into my performance in battle, for truly, I was convinced that day would be my last.”

“Not to mention, I,” he started, but there was regret in his eyes for having turned his mind to the page he now was to dictate. His hands fidgeted uneasily in his sleeves, reaching for him just the slightest bit before retreating into their fabric shells. “I have felt a certain… Distance — between us, ever since our latest trek to the Faron Woods. I am uncertain what has come to pass since then, but the lack of our shared company agonized me.”

A gradual blush crept on his cheeks, ever-more prominent over the thin, whitened scars of his face. “Yet, in my desperation when waiting for the sounding of my death knell, wishing for you so, my actions only endangered you. Never did I wish to cast you in Ganondorf’s ire, and I can only feel responsible for the punishment he chose to give you.”

Zant huffed weakly. All his strength then seemed to gather in his eyes, peering at him in pleading and guilt. Though Ghirahim had shaken him off and tucked his hands beyond his reach, somehow Zant had slipped them free and insistently clasped them in his own. “I do not expect you to forgive me, but my remorse is true.”

Ghirahim looked up at him, for a moment at a loss for words. Once again, Zant had struck an incomprehensible chord, leaving him tongue-tied. If he didn’t so stubbornly cling to it, the anger he’d entered this room with almost would have faded. And even if it had, a new source of annoyance quickly took its place. Such frivolous sentimentality! At least the previous times, Zant had the decency to keep it concealed.

He couldn’t believe that such simple fears had been what cracked Zant’s composure. In fact, he didn’t believe it. The man he’d shared nights with, cradling his shivering body in his arms as night terrors consumed him, dreaded far more than such simple matters. No matter how erratically he behaved on the battlefield, he was far beyond the lowly realm of beasts. Mortal he may have been, but Ghirahim knew all too well that his Master wouldn’t waste energy on someone so dispensable.

Perhaps they had been the actions of a man with nothing to lose, after all. Nothing he’d said, however, shed even a single light on that secretive, elusive string he’d always keep him on.

But he didn’t want to upset him any further, not when he’d gotten him a semblance of loose-lipped. Were he to shut him down now, he might never get the opportunity again.

Zant was still holding his hands. Ghirahim sucked in a breath when he realized he’d stopped noticing it, how used he’d grown to being touched by him. He gave the man one last look, before casting his eyes down with a sigh. Slipping his hands out of his grip got him a little whimper in response, and Zant’s eyes trailed him wetly and sadly as he walked past him.

He scanned the room again. Books. Always with the books. The Twili was completely addicted to gathering knowledge of this realm, to the point he may as well derive sustenance from it. It was this ceaseless digging into this alternate world’s past that had sparked his first bout of madness, of conspiracy. Maybe the answers to his questions were hidden there.

And so, he looked over his shoulder, addressing him in their usual banter. “This place was not so ravaged last I saw it.”

Zant perked up, hesitantly so. He seemed to be taking the extension of their conversation as a sign of forgiveness. He would be wrong, but Ghirahim was planning on tolerating his company, for the time being. Zant trailed after him, looming in a shadow at his back. “Indeed. I have let my enthusiasm get the better of me, it seems.”

“It seems, he says…” Ghirahim clicked his tongue, browsing the sea of paper before him. “Even you wouldn’t be this chaotic without good reason. What are you obsessing over this time?”

A far less uncertain smile split Zant’s lips, his pointed teeth glittering in the dim light. “I think it better to show you. Come.”

Zant extended his hand, palm raised. He was testing his luck, certainly, but Ghirahim would let him, if only for the sake of his curiosity. So, he shot the man a warning glance and accepted. Instead of their usual warp, Zant instead grabbed on tightly and tugged the both of them backward. He jumped, pulling Ghirahim — suddenly a hundred pounds lighter and kicking his feet with a yelp — into the air with him. They floated past the trail of books that scattered across the library floor, only to land right at an empty space at its very center. The second they landed, Ghirahim yanked his hand free and sourly dusted himself off. Oh, yes. He really was testing his patience.

Face still soft and pink, Zant’s anxiety took a turn for his more zealous side. He quickly turned his attention to the fruits of his labor. “I have taken the liberty of combing through the Sorceress’ magical tomes in search for something we ourselves could master, and found something truly promising.”

Sleeves spread out, he continued his sermon. “The grimoire she carries is outside of my reach, but a grimoire, too, is nothing more than a summary of knowledge. I believe I have found the pathway to unlocking her arcane secrets, Ghirahim,” he began to giggle, at once hunching down to arrange his spread of paper and leather. “Does this look familiar?”

Ghirahim squinted. In this dark, finding familiarity in anything at all was a chore, but one he would have to commit to. With great determination, Zant continued to arrange the books and papers. It was all just scribbles to him. Before he could comment on the irony of the bookish girl’s scrawly handwriting, his disdain for the texts revealed something new. Rather than the texts themselves, something was hidden behind them — a circular print, in light, grey dye, joining one page to the next. And within those prints, one symbol was scrawled on each opened book.

Ghirahim frowned, now turning his gaze to the creature squatted on the floor. “That is… Those are the runes to..?”

Zant rose, more papers tightly clutched to his chest, and nodded with scheming satisfaction. “Indeed. These very pages hold the secrets to her time gates. With some study… I may yet figure them out for our own use.”

Finally, the pieces clicked. Ghirahim had come to him seeking sense and he’d found it, wrapped in layers upon layers of pipe dreams. Their field trips, his toiling studies, his obsession with finding context clues in the landscape… It had to all have been building to this. As true to his character as it could ever be, the Twilight King came here searching for a way to claim the power of Gods for himself and had now found it. If he couldn’t have it in one world, he would have it in the next. The prospect of what Zant would use such power for, continued to worry him… But just this knowledge would suffice, for now. At last, he felt like he had an idea of just what went on in that enigmatic chaos that called itself a ‘mind’. He could follow that wavelength.

For the first time since arriving at the library, he smiled. He laughed, even, his hand brought to his face. “You truly are a madman.”

The sight of Ghirahim’s smile visibly delighted Zant. Then it emboldened him, bursting into a cackle. “I would not be the first to admit that the boundary between madmen and scholars is, and shall forever remain, very thin.”

And so, Ghirahim found himself once again at the Twilight King’s side, perusing the various notes and books he’d ripped through. Perhaps he’d curse himself give or take a few days, but being on Zant’s trail for a change invigorated him. He’d managed to somewhat level the playing field. Whether he would win this duel remained to be seen, but now at least he had an idea of where the man hid his spare daggers. Standing across the field of honor, his hands itched to lunge for him and pluck them out himself.

Zant, too, appeared contented. His fingers glided past the papers he’d accumulated, rambling on and on about his discoveries, and the potentials of summoning more and more obscure beasts from beyond time.

At last, their company appeared to return to old fondness, until Zant’s words faded. His tone turned grave as he turned to him. “… Ghirahim.”

Ghirahim sighed, combing his hair to the left side of his face with his fingers. “What is it this time?”

Zant blinked, mulling over his words blank-faced. “Are you afraid of me?”

The words shot into him like a burning arrow, igniting his temper in an instant. “Afraid..?” he scoffed. “What a ridiculous notion. You would do better to watch your tongue.”

Zant’s eyes narrowed. Ghirahim couldn’t place the intent of his question. It could only have been a taunt, an insult, but he spied none of the playful sadism that should accompany such bullying. “I have given you my answers without riddles. I wish for you to extend me that same grace,” Zant demanded.

And so, Ghirahim considered it, even if every instinct blared with annoyance and a desire to throw the notion straight in his mental garbage bin. Did he fear Zant? One would think he didn’t, for the man was impulsive, childish, and frightfully easy to wrap around his finger. Yet, that very same fool had coaxed him into vulnerability and, at the end of the day, could very well mangle him to shards if he so desired. The thought frightened, embarrassed, and disgusted him all the same. He stood, arms folded, avoiding his gaze but knowing it wouldn’t avoid him until he answered. His annoyance won over his ego.

He cleared his throat and chose the practical path. “… It’s only expected to hold some fear for those more powerful than you, no? Do you not fear our Master?”

That same look Zant had worn on his face when he first met his eyes today, returned. The initial shock of his answer faded, soon turning glum. It wasn’t piteous like the way Yuga looked at him. In those glossy amber eyes, he saw nothing but grief and recognition. Slowly, Zant began to shake his head and soon drew him into a wordless embrace.

Ghirahim froze. Had he answered wrong? There was no such thing. Strength meant to control those lacking that power. How else did one demand respect, but through the competing of abilities? To outmatch, to terrorize? To break down every lesser being at the knee, so all they could do was to look upon you in awe and worship? That was how he’d functioned, on either side of the spectrum. It was the simple order of life, and he’d relished in it. Demise had forged him for it, after all, and he would sooner shatter than deny himself this privileged terror.

Then, Ghirahim came to the baffling conclusion that Zant did not want him to fear him. He couldn’t begin to fathom why. Neither did he understand why his body grew slack, and why his arms shakily found their way loosely around Zant’s waist.

The Twili let out more of those little hums, nuzzling his face into his hair. Lanky arms pulled him in closer as the first subtle drops of tears trickled onto the crown of his head. “Truly, you have kept me from you for too long…”

It was all entirely alien. Both Zant’s reactions and the pounding they stirred inside his core. But, by Demise, he didn’t want to let go.

“You vex me, vile and dark thing,” Ghirahim murmured finally, burying his face in the pillowing of deep black robes. “Fork-tongued, baleful, infuriating wretch,” he hissed, though the venom in his voice thinned, till at long last it dripped with philter. A hand with uneven digits found his cheek and before he knew he leaned into it. Whatever protests, pleas for self-control, and shunning his mind cried out, his body ignored completely. His head tipped back to a sigh, baring his face to the mercy of his kisses. “You must have cursed me, to draw me to you like this. I find no other reason to time and time again return to your arms.”

With those lips so close to his ear, Zant laughed, its smoky tones sending an involuntary shiver down his neck. “Forgive me, for such magic could only ever be a blessing in my eyes.”

They embraced there for what seemed like ages. Stubborn cries in his mind called him a coward, spineless for his inability to push him away. Those, too, faded with the deafening buzz of this affectionate comfort. Cotton filled his head until it may as well have been coming out of his ears. Whatever thoughts would come to haunt him could dig their claws back into him some other time. He was too mystified by this odd creature that cooed and whispered and kissed, to make space for anything else.

Soon, Zant broke that precious silence with more of his perplexing words. “… I cannot help but notice, Ghirahim. Even after your slumber, you remain ill.” He leaned back, once again fiddling with his hair with those spindly fingers. “If you will let me, I can be of assistance to you again.”

A chill ran down his back the instant he realized just where his curiosity had led him. Instantly, Ghirahim jerked back, a hand protectively over his chest. He had given the Twili an inch, and already, he was seeking to pry him open and-

Zant picked up on his shock and quickly attempted to calm him. “Ah- No, I will not force you into such an intimate act, especially not given our earlier talk. But I may have an idea.”

Still apprehensive, but no longer as tightly wound, Ghirahim frowned at him. “… Go on.”

Once again Zant grew a touch shy. He chewed on his lip as he sought for words. “Your magic is channeled through dance, is it not? As with your counterpart, you cast your spells most effectively through somatic channeling. I could assist you and combine our energies, so you could dispel the curse on your own.”

Ghirahim stood perplexed. At first, his frustratingly verbose wording confused him, until he realized what he meant. His smile returned to him against his will, but he took the liberty of adding a snarky spin. “… Twilight King… Once again, your attempts at courtship are laughable. Are you asking me for a dance?”

A grin spread across Zant’s face, finally casting that bothersome gloom aside. “Only if you will have me, Demon Lord.”

Deciding he’d already agreed to enough unbecoming nonsense for the night, Ghirahim didn’t see the harm in one more. He accepted and watched curiously as Zant gleefully trotted off someplace else.

“Just a moment,” he echoed into some cabinet, “I’ve found quite the intriguing little implement earlier. If only I could- Ah!”

Ghirahim tilted his head to look over his shoulder. He sneered a laugh when he saw just what Zant had fetched and held up so proudly. “A music box? You think me some sniveling babe, in need of a lullaby?”

But the Twili refused even a shred of embarrassment, standing firm in his choice. “Perhaps it is a touch juvenile, but I found it carries a fine tune. Besides, would you rather our privacy be interrupted by an orchestra?”

Ghirahim shrugged, admitting defeat. “No, I suppose not.”

Finally, Zant reached for his hand. Upon taking it, he was dragged into his magic by surprise, and the pair promptly appeared on the upper floor of the library. The doors to the balcony stood open, the evening breeze brushing through the heavy drapes. They swayed and beckoned, inviting the pair outside like ghostly chaperones. Bronze slippers clacked on stone as Zant led them out, setting their musical implements on the balcony balusters.

Ghirahim shook his head in amusement, watching with his hands at his sides as Zant giddily began winding up the little box until the spring simply wouldn’t give any more. The sword spirit chewed his lip with a smile. He wondered if this inelegant being even knew how to dance, despite his invitation. Much less how it would look.

A pleasant surprise reared its head but did not quite escape its hiding when Zant approached him in a straight posture. He confidently took his hand in his and placed the other at his hip. “Might I request to lead? It’s how I’ve been trained, after all.”

The mere suggestion made Ghirahim laugh. “Oh, so you were trained? Such interesting things you try to sell me on.”

Zant’s lips pursed into a smug, defiant smile, his hand not moving from his waist. “Will I get an answer before that box runs out of spins, I wonder.”

Ghirahim rolled his eyes with a laugh, finally conceding, and reaching up to place his hand on his shoulder. “Sweep me away, Twilight King. See if you keep my toes intact.”

Pleasant surprise turned to astonishment when it turned out Zant was, indeed, a halfway-decent dancer. It took the both of them a few clumsy bumps, affronted toes, and curses but mostly laughs, to get used to each others’ rhythms and lengths of strides. Before long, though, Zant took up on his challenge and swept the both of them through the balcony in a waltz.

Yet, one thing still irked him. Doubtlessly, Zant’s mop of hair was no glorious sight to behold, but Ghirahim certainly preferred it over that hideous leather coif. So, he clicked his tongue, breaking their hold to reach for his face. “Must you be wearing that old thing as we dance?”

“Ah,” Zant exclaimed, flinching away from the fingers that slipped beneath his coif. “I would prefer to, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Ghirahim frowned a little but decided to let it slide. The fading scars on Zant’s cheeks reminded him enough about his tendency to hide himself. For the time being, he supposed he could shrug it off. Whatever he kept concealed there could only be a minor secret compared to the ones he’d wrenched from him just earlier. He’d let these fade with the sun, which sank ever further away with each step of their feet. Pink turned to blue, turned to pitch black, finally shedding them in the chandelier light of the starry veil above. Ghirahim’s blooming magic, leaving glowing white footprints behind them, poured from him as easily as he could sigh a breath. Once again, that nosy Twilight busy-body had found a way to intertwine the two of them. All he had to do was dance.

—

The plucky chiming of the music box had long ceased, but neither of them paid it any mind. Their feet rhythmically continued gliding past the stone floors. Zant’s metal clogs left their characteristic clink-clink-clink, and Ghirahim’s soles trailed with glittering diamonds, leaving a sound like wind passing through a grand chandelier. Those specks of magic rang and jingled, themselves producing a tune, casting the pair in fracturing light as if they’d been dancing miles below the sea.

Fog of exhaustion began to drain from him, sapped from his fingertips — he clutched Zant just a little tighter, — his feet — his dance stepped just a little lighter, — and the back of his mind — the stars in his eyes shone just a little brighter, — until he could hardly feel its influence anymore. It gathered at his core, before being shed from it in yet more gentle puffs of diamond magic. Those very gems were infused, or rather, tainted with something else, something living and dark. Yet, now, as the little cloud of them swirled into the sky like a snake wading through the desert sands, it could harm him no longer.

The point of his ear glowed softly red when amidst the gentle sounds of their dance, Zant’s persistent giggling had turned into a hum. Soon, Ghirahim found himself laughing along. There the pair swayed singing across the balcony, dancing into the night in mutual serenade. Rewinding that old toy would have been too much of a bother, either way. With every step, he felt lighter, more whole, and with the arms that led him through their steps, he couldn’t help but feel like Zant had his hand in reforming him. Even when simply being by his side while he reforged himself, their intimacy alone molded him into such a whimsical being.

He did not have enough lead in his steel to be this weak and malleable. But oh, damn it all. Those eyes adored him so.

But how could they? Ghirahim could treat him coldly, he could avoid him, he could waltz into this very room with the intent to berate and abandon him, and still he welcomed him with open arms. So tragically he beheld him and so desperately he’d pleaded for him to consider forgiveness. They were tearing each other to the ground, he knew it, and he was certain now that Zant knew it, too. Yet, somehow, when it kept his sleepless mind buzzing with a hive’s worth of conflict, that strange man chased after it like his life knew no greater purpose.

He couldn’t hope to sway him from that obsession, nor from attempting to drag him down with him. But he could try.

“You’re certain you wish to spend your time with such frivolous things, Twilight King?” he said, coaxing glowing amber into his own vast black. “Even if I continue to doubt you so?”

Zant chuckled, some puzzling silence in his face. “Even now, you question me? For months now, we have laid together in both passion and slumber. I’ve allowed you to hold me, to comfort me when my mind would reject me, until we have spent more nights together than apart.” He spoke, keeping the pair moving and shrouded in glitter. “Were those hours we’ve spent together in leisure, in discourse and intrigue, not meaningful to you? Had you not the slightest inkling of the way I look at you, how the world pales in importance when we occupy the same space?”

There was the first true crack, picking at a wall he didn’t know he had. He expected, no, demanded to be admired. Desirability was as true to his nature as his cruelty and by all means, he had to be used to it. He couldn’t fathom why this would feel different, and why against all logic, it did.

Zant spun him, holding him closer as he pulled him back in. “Ghirahim, truly, could I have made myself any clearer? Flippant feelings alone can not keep me from you, for they are what make us alive. With all that we’ve shared, how could I come to feel anything for you, but my deepest, truest affections?”

Another hair fracture, zig-zagging and weaving together like a web. With every turn of their waltz, the stars spun around them. Bright specks swirled around till all blended together in a glowing spiral. It was like the little pixies had seen their swaying below, and promptly broke into their own dance, having unanimously decided it looked fun. His core pulsed, thrummed, widening his eyes and sending roaring fire to his chest. Below him, his magic spoke for him, and welcomed the starry sky above to join their not-so-private ball. Scattering into the sky in sparks, or really, more like bubbles in a boiling kettle, diamonds rose from the pool of pure white magic that gathered at his feet.

Something in him pounded at the wall, and the fracture cleaved ever deeper. The hand holding his’ slipped out from their loose joining, trailing its way down his arm and toward his cheek. “Surely, some of it must have registered, for even after our time apart, you continue to bear my gift to you,” Zant said, his eyes now glued to his earring.

Zant sucked in a gasp, for just a moment tripping over his words. Their eyes met again, and the Twili fell silent. He stared at him as if he had committed to counting every star that reflected in the black of his pupils, and would still be there to count them when new ones were born. He brought the two of them to a halt, looking as infatuated as he was troubled. Ghirahim grew cold with anticipation, all while Zant kept him trapped and entranced. “The truth is, Ghirahim, I…”

Rushing forth from some corner of himself, this geode he once thought hollow, a battering ram whacked at his crumbling line of defenses. Desperately it slammed against the wall to meet whatever had called it, to see what nighttide lover was knocking at its balcony window and sweep it off its feet. So desperate it was, starving for a feeling it had never dared to dream be reciprocated, that it tore a gaping hole in him at first strike.

That little hidden shard of his now flew free, gazing out into the world he’d hidden it from with awe and splendor. For just one second, the stars around them seemed to glow, the hand on his cheek felt warmer, and his core felt infinitely lighter. Little dagger, so eagerly it flung around the shoulders of the one waiting for it outside its imprisonment, that it hadn’t even noticed that every other inch of Ghirahim had kept its thousands of hands firmly at its hilt. They ripped it back inside. It went back with them cheering and giggling, a little tatter of the object of its affection clutched firmly in its hands.

He could not sever this. Not if he let it continue.

And so, he ran. He broke himself away from the golden eyes that looked at him so longingly by clenching his own shut. By the time he opened them again, his hands were empty and cold, and his back was pressed against one of the columns that left this very library standing. The room was dark.

He was hoping that tearing himself from him would bring him a measure of relief, of closure. To avoid the words about to be spoken was to avoid opening a door he had only dared to peep through and hold it ajar, lured in by the tranquilizing sweetness of his curiosity. It was a world not meant for him, not with this man. He’d slam the stop-gap keeping it open to splinters if he had to.

Yet, as he stood there, drowning in the deathly silence of the library, he couldn’t bring himself to. There was not a shred of relief to be found in the ache that buckled his knees. That door to what-could-be remained open. After he’d shattered it, it could never close again. In the paralysis that kept him clinging to that pillar like a lifeline, he heard a shred from that great unknown. Above him, from the balcony, a wet, ragged breath ripped itself through the Twili’s throat in a heaving sob.

A crash, a shatter, the sound of little gears and mechanisms scattering across the stone floor assaulted his ears. Though he fled from them, the ringing and clattering haunted Ghirahim in echoes as he made his solemn stride to his chambers.

#ghirazant #ghirahim #zant #yuga #ganondorf #hyrule warriors #legend of zelda #loz #yuga albw #tftk #beararts #bearwrites

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somediyprojects · 7 months

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DIY Paper Tiger Lilies

Project by Kate Alarcon:

This speckled wildflower isn’t the large, showy tiger lily grown from a bulb as an annual, but rather lilium columbiana, a Pacific Northwest native with small flowers that face downward. I’ve never actually seen a live one in person before, but this is one of my favorite paper flowers to add to a bouquet. It’s bright and eye-catching but still has a delicate, woodland vibe. The arched stems give an arrangement height that isn’t too visually distracting, and the curled petals show off the color on both sides of the doublette crepe paper.

But the best argument for paper tiger lilies is the fun of speckling and curling those petals. Enjoy! —Kate

Supplies:

-Lily petal template (here) -Orange doublette crepe from here -Yellow, orange, or green heavy or fine crepe for the pistil (I’ve used Bright Olive heavy crepe from here.) -Fine crepe in orange or brown (I’ve used Vermillion fine crepe from here.) -Fine crepe in Cypress from here -Aleene’s Original Tacky glue -Cloth-covered stem wire in 18 gauge and 22 gauge -Dark brown or burgundy pen or marker. Any kind should work, but test it on a scrap of doublette crepe first to be safe. -A rod approximately the diameter of a straw (I used a gold paper straw from Target, but a pen, knitting needle, or wooden dowel would also work.)

A note about crepe paper grain:

The grain of the crepe paper runs parallel to the roll or fold. Crepe paper stretches horizontally, but not vertically, so you will almost always cut petals with the grain, placing the template so that the tiny wrinkles in the paper run up and down the template, not across. Cutting with the grain means that you cut in the same direction the crinkles are running; cutting across the grain means that you cut perpendicular to these crinkles.

Stamens:

Cut four 3” pieces of the 22 gauge wire for each flower. (Lilies technically have 6 stamens, but I like the more streamlined appearance of 4. Use as many as you like!)

Cut out a 5”x 5” rectangle of fine crepe in whatever color you prefer for your stamen tips.

Cut the square across the grain to create 1/8” wide strips. Each strip will cover at least one stamen tip, so you only need four strips for each lily. Dot a very small amount of glue along one of the strips. Attach the end of the strip to the wire about 1/16” below the tip of one of your short lengths of wire. The strip should be perpendicular to the wire.

Roll the strip around the wire to create a little barrel, which will plump up your stamen tip. (I always just eyeball this, but I’ve found that a typical barrel takes about 1.5” of the strip.) Once you’ve rolled up your barrel, hold the strip at a 45-degree angle to the tip of the wire, and start wrapping toward the tip. When you get to the end of the wire, reverse directions and wrap toward the bottom of the stamen. Snip off any excess.

While the paper is still wet, mold the stamen tip a little bit, smoothing any bumps in the tip. Then pinch it flat between your thumb and index finger.

Pistil:

Cut two ¼” x 3.5” strips of Bright Olive heavy crepe across the grain. Dot glue down the length of the strip. Starting at the tip of one of your 18 gauge wires, wrap at least the top 2” of the wire, stretching the strip and spiraling down at a 45-degree angle.

Dot your second strip of heavy crepe with glue. Position a stamen against the pistil so that the bottom of the stamen hits the pistil two inches below the pistil tip. Repeat with the remaining 3 stamens. The second should be placed opposite the first. The remaining two stamens go in the spaces between the first two. Snip any excess strip.

The finished center

Petals:

Using the petal template, cut six petals from the orange doublette. (Make sure the grain runs up and down the petal from tip to base.)

Decide whether you’d like the darker or lighter orange side of the petals to face the center. I’ve chosen the darker orange, so that’s the side I speckled.

Use your pen to apply dots to the petal. I’ve drawn larger and smaller elongated ovals somewhat at random. I threw away about fifty lovingly speckled petals after changing my mind about the speckle pattern. Don’t be me: spend some time practicing on scraps before tackling the petals.

Find the circle near the bottom of the petal template, and gently stretch this area to create a little bowl.

Starting at the tip of your petal, curl your petal around the rod. The “right” side of the petal — in other words, the side on which you drew your speckles — should face toward the rod, while the back side of the petal is what you’ll see when the petal is almost completely wrapped around the rod.

Without uncurling the petal, remove the rod. For a lily in full bloom, leave the curls tight. To create different stages of bloom, adjust the curl of the petals by gently smoothing them between your fingers.

Applying the petals:

The petals are attached in two rounds of three.

Apply a small amount of glue to the little tab at the bottom of the petal. Attach one of the petals to your center, placing it so that the top of the little tab falls just above the top of the olive strip that you used to attach the stamens to the pistil.

Attach two more petals, spacing them evenly to form a triangle around the center.

For the next round, apply the petals in the spaces between your first set of three. Make sure not to drift down the stem with this second round.

Gently bend the stamens so that they curve outward away from the pistil.

Wrapping the stem:

After you’ve attached all six petals, cut two ¼” x 10″ strips of Cypress fine crepe across the grain. Dot the first two inches of the strip with glue and wrap the stem where it meets the back of the flower, covering the tabs where the lily petals attach to the pistil. Stretch as you wrap to create a smoother stem.

Dot glue on the next three or four inches of the stem and continue wrapping with your fine crepe strip. When you’ve covered all the glue, apply glue to the next three or four inches and wrap. Continue until the whole stem is covered. If you have a bump where the bottom of the stamens meet the stem, you can use additional strips to build up the area just below the stamen bottoms to create a smoother transition.

Finishing:

The petals often become mussed during wrapping, so gently adjust them and recurl if necessary.

Carefully bend the stem below the bloom to create an arc. I like for my lilies to be facing straight down.

To protect your flower from fading, you can spray it with Krylon matte UV protectant spray (in a well-ventilated place, while wearing a mask).

#diy #crafts #paper #x

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simphellscape · 6 months

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the longest night | tenya iida

after his U.A graduation, denki kaminari decides to throw one last celebration before everyone moves on to their next big adventure. a certain uninvited guest signs himself up for his most unexpected adventure yet, and he is completely unprepared for the long night ahead.

tw: drugs, cursing

On a particularly warm evening in August, Denki Kaminari invited his classmates to his parents’ condo for a summer reunion. Sure, it hadn’t been terribly long since he’d seen them last, but even he realized the permanence of graduation and the weight it held for graduates of U.A. specifically. In the two weeks since his high school graduation, many of his friends had already begun preparing for their next big conquest: hero work. He could practically feel the ties that he’d built with all of these people starting to snap, and there was absolutely no way he would let that happen.

So, he sent a message to the group chat he shared with his pals, telling them to head over to his place at around 8:00 that evening and to spread the word. He spent the entirety of his day preparing the necessary ingredients for a successful party (with limited knowledge on the subject himself): plenty of alcohol, a smattering of weed and weed snacks, a heap of junk food, and a few card games that looked fun.

People start trickling in at around 8:15, then arrive in droves shortly after.

Now, at approximately 9:15, Denki is confident that at least half of Japan’s population has gathered in his parent’s modest condo. Satisfied, he climbs onto his most destructive party guest’s back without warning.

“Yo, what the fuck? Are you already shitfaced?” Bakugo shouts, swatting Denki.

“Shh, no, I’m not! I want to make an announcement!” he replies, slapping Bakugo’s hands away.

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“I need leverage. You’re taller than me.”

“By like two inches!”

“It’ll be five seconds, lighten up.”

Before Bakugo could protest any longer, his host had already wriggled his way onto his shoulders, and everyone was looking. Although he was notoriously hotheaded, he’d begun to understand the importance of upholding decent appearances in public.

“Oh, sweet! Everyone’s already paying attention,” Denki smiles.

“Get on with it,” Bakugo reminds him through gritted teeth.

“Right. Glad everyone could make it! Drinks and brownies,” Denki pauses to wink exaggeratedly, “are in the kitchen. I’ve got lots of cool games we can play, and Present Mic got me this sweet sound system as a grad present! So, yeah, go nuts! Just… not too nuts because this is my parent’s place.”

With that, he unceremoniously hops off of Bakugo’s shoulders. Bakugo opens his mouth to share a few choice phrases with his friend, but is quickly interrupted by a loud bang.

“I came as soon as I heard!” a familiar, but universally unwelcomed voice cries out.

One of Denki’s classmates, the only one that Denki explicitly did not invite, stands directly in the center of his living room. Immediately behind him is the front door of the Kaminari family home, hanging by a thread off of its hinges. Surrounding him, horrified teenage faces and a few spilled red solo cups.

“Man... Iida, I just said not to go too nuts! My mom’s gonna kill me!”

“Don’t fret, Kaminari! I prepared for this very circumstance!”

The man in question, Tenya Iida, drops the two cases of water nestled in each of his arms to the ground to access his backpack. From it, he pulls out two loaves of bread, a family sized box of Pepto-Bismol, an equally large bottle of ibuprofen, several pairs of identical glasses, and finally, a toolbox.

“You see, in situations like this, caution could be thrown to the side. I brought my personal set of tools, specifically for any damages that may occur!”

He sets the box down, adjusts his glasses, and sighs.

“I do apologize for my oversight, dear friend. I understood that it was urgent that I attend this gathering, as class representative.”

“Yeah, man, I guess I forgot to let you know… you’re not here to tell us all to go home though, right?” Denki clarifies.

After a brief pause, Tenya responds.

“If I’m being completely transparent, I considered it. However, I then recalled a study I came across during my recreational reading hour today that outlined the pros and cons of indulging in activities such as this in moderation. Occasional alcohol consumption is perfectly normal, as long as it’s done safely. It is my number one duty as your class representative and the pro-hero Ingenium to assure the safety of my mates, along with the citizens of the world. So, I decided to attend and uphold my duties!”

Without another word, Iida marches to the door, tool set in hand, to repair it. The buzzing of mutters settle across the room for a moment, until Denki figures out how his new surround sound system works. Quickly, everyone forgot about Tenya’s presence.

It took him approximately ten minutes to fully repair the door. With the nature of Tenya’s quirk, he became incredibly skilled with household tools at a young age. After packing his tools into his knapsack, he turns his attention back to the party.

A song in English plays over Denki’s speakers, with more than a few protanities peppered throughout. A majority of the people in the room have a very firm grasp on the English language, but Tenya has an iron grip on it. In his years of learning it, he dedicated time after school into learning some less scholastic phrases, so that he would never misspeak if chatting with a native English speaker. It ended up doing him some good, as a lot of the people in the room were mindlessly chanting along to the song without knowing the true connotations. Shaking his head, Tenya left the room to embark on a patrol of the house.

He strolled along the perimeter, keeping an ear out for any noises of physical or emotional distress. To his relief, he found the various hallways and corners completely deserted. Satisfied, he makes his way to the kitchen.

He discovers a long table filled with various goodies there: pizzas, chips, dips, brownies, cookies, and the like. It’s alluring. Tenya arrives at a crossroads. He thinks aloud, to nobody.

“Hmm… everyone else in attendance tonight is indulging in things they normally would not be. Of course, ingesting alcoholic beverages could potentially damage my engines. However, it is proven that carb-heavy foods produce an effect similar to the state of drunkenness! Perhaps I could indulge a bit too, as long as I train more rigorously in the morning.”

With that decision made, Tenya peruses the table, pondering on how long it had been since he’d broken his strict diet.

He had pizza last on the night of graduation. A handful of chips two weekends ago. It had been several years since he’d had a pastry, however. The last time he recalled having anything close to a brownie or a cookie was when his classmate, Rikido Sato, prepared a fruit pie for the first celebration his class held at their dormitory. Even then, he only had one bite.

Now, if Tenya was going to truly indulge, he wanted to make it count. He inspected both the plate of cookies and the pan of brownies very closely, wafting the smell towards his face as one would with dangerous chemicals in a laboratory. After more careful thought, he reached for the pan of brownies.

Upon the first bite, the taste of chocolate raced across his taste buds. As it spreads, Tenya can practically feel his dopamine receptors going into overdrive. Halfway through his bite, he notices an edge of something unfamiliar… almost earthy. He doesn’t dislike it; in fact, it leads him to believe that they might be better for him. Perhaps they’re gluten-free, or low-sugar. An odd choice for a party, but he’s certainly not complaining. After shoving the rest of the brownie in his mouth, he goes for another one and completely devours it. He regards the pan of brownies once more.

“Since they seem to be a healthier brownie…”

He reaches for one more with the intent to savor it. He certainly takes his time with this one, enjoying the nuances of this delicious, ambiguously healthy treat. As he is about to take his final bite, another classmate enters the kitchen.

“Hey, Iida, wha-- oh, shit.”

Tenya turns to find Kyoka Jiro standing a few feet from him, white as a sheet. An inexplicable look of horror is spread across her face.

“Hello, Jiro! Wonderful to see you.”

“What are you eating?”

“Oh, this?” Tenya asks, raising the last bite of his brownie, “I know it’s unusual to see me with junk foods, but I decided to treat myself, much like all of you are tonight!”

“That’s not a brownie.”

“I did notice that it wasn’t an exact replica of the brownies I have tasted in the past. Is there another name for this low-carb, chocolate treat?”

“No, Iida, those are edibles. How many did you eat?”

“Oh, Jiro, you have always been a jokester. Of course they’re edible! See?”

Tenya lifts the last bite to his mouth.

“No! Stop!”

He pauses and regards Kyoka, quizzically.

“What seems to be the issue?”

Jiro scrambles over to her friend, snatching the brownie from his hand and stuffing it into her own mouth.

“Okay,” she mumbles over her full mouth, “so, these brownies have been... tampered with.”

Tenya gasps.

“Who would do such a thing?”

“No, no, it was on purpose. Uh--”

With that, Katsuki barges into the kitchen with his usual gusto.

“Who’s doing all that fucking shouting?” he shouts.

For the first time in recorded history, Katsuki takes a moment to appreciate his surroundings. He notices Kyoka, swallowing hard with chocolate crumbs around her lips. He sees Iida, looking very confused with even more chocolate crumbs decorating his face. Finally, he clocks the tray of weed brownies, with a full row completely missing. He absolutely loses his mind, cackling.

“Oh, this is so fucking funny,” he wheezes.

“Alright, I understand that this is all very amusing for you two, but I am, unfortunately, out of the loop,” Tenya asserts.

“They’ve got weed in them, you idiot!” Katsuki reveals, at long last.

Tenya’s mind goes immediately, alarmingly blank. His heart starts beating impossibly fast. His palms become slick with sweat at once.

“Marijuana? That’s impossible,” he finally chokes out.

“Oh, it’s possible,” Katsuki grunts, wiping the tears from his eyes, “and you’re about to be really fucked up.”

Of all the things he expected to encounter at this party, vomit, blood, tears, even law enforcement… something so incredibly illegal was something that had never even crossed his mind. His first instinct is to feel betrayed, and then he recalls a statistic on illicit drug use that he read recently. Not anticipating recreational drugs was a huge oversight. He could be angry later, if he so chooses. Right now, however, he needs to accept accountability and prepare for the journey he is about to take.

“I understand. I know this may come as a great shock to you, but I’m uneducated on the effects of marijuana in large quantities. I assume you both have used this drug before?”

Both Katsuki and Kyoka nod; Katsuki with fervour and a scoff, Kyoka calmly and wordlessly.

“What will happen to me?”

Katsuki opens his mouth to speak, but Kyoka interrupts.

“With all due respect, Mr. Lord Explosion Murder, I’ll take this one.”

Katsuki groans and crosses his arms over his chest.

“In about twenty minutes, you’re going to start to feel a bit… looser. Your brain might feel like it’s running slower than normal. Your body might feel a bit lighter and more relaxed. You’re probably going to feel hungry -- do not eat more brownies, please -- and everything will seem a bit funny and confusing. After a while, you’re probably gonna want to find a place and sit there, because it’s probably gonna be hard to move. Honestly, I don’t know how strong the brownies are, so you might green out, might not. You probably will, though.”

“I’m sorry… ‘green out’?”

“I’m sure you know what happens when you drink too much alcohol, right?”

Tenya nods, slowly.

“The same thing can happen if you have too much pot. You pass out, you throw up, you might even forget about the whole thing if you’re lucky. You definitely won’t die, though. You’d have to have about fifteen of those pans in, like, five minutes.”

“Memory loss doesn’t seem very fortuitous to me.”

“I was being sarcastic. Listen,” Kyoka sighs, “do you want someone to bring you home, or maybe call an Uber? I know you ran over here… and you’re definitely not gonna be able to do that anytime soon.”

Tenya’s normally rigid posture becomes even more so.

“Absolutely not! I promised my classmates that I would be here to assist them, and I will fulfill that promise to the best of my abilities!”

“Okay, I’m gonna let Denki know, then.”

With that, Kyoka leaves the kitchen, a still-chuckling Katsuki following close behind. Tenya lets out a deep sigh. He’s not entirely sure that he has the facilities to undertake this endeavor. He’s not at all like Kyoka, or Katsuki, or anyone else who would partake in this drug knowingly. He’s not carefree like them. Sometimes, he wishes ‘going with the flow’ came as easily to him as it did with many of the people he knows. If it did, then maybe he wouldn’t be so scared right now.

Tenya’s been in many situations where his life was in imminent danger, but he had friends who fought along with him, and he had training to base his decisions on. In this situation, he has no idea what to expect, what to do, or how he’s gonna make it home at the end of the night -- let alone what his family would say if they heard about this.

A fuzzy sensation creeps up Tenya’s spine. His heart rate spikes again, certain that this means his journey is starting much sooner than he thought it would. He sets his brow, takes a deep, calming breath, and begins searching the Kaminari residence for a comfortable place to rest. This is, without a doubt, going to be the longest night of his young life.

a/n: i’m back(ish) and i’m posting crack lol. i could probably write the rest of this if someone wanted it. ask and you shall receive. check the tags for my picks for the naughty english song playing on the sound system hehe

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teleahhernandez13 · 2 days

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The photographer is Inuuteq Storch who was born in Greenland in 1989, has had countless exhibitions both alone and in a group, and graduated from the International Center of Photography in New York and Fatamorgana in Copenhagen. He currently resides in Denmark where he continues to work on his craft.

The photograph is that of what appears to be a car in the snow at night. The photo was taken vertically and is monochromatic. The black and white is very harsh meaning that much of the image is one color or the other with little change in value. The accompanying page is pure black. The image has no title, caption, or other information which adds to the eeriness of the image. It looks almost haunted because it looks rather apocalyptic as the color, or lack of rather, in the background gives little to no information of the environment. The sky is pitch black, yet dotted with falling snow and takes up about the top third of the image. Behind the car, in the middle ground, is a small hill which rather quickly levels out to in the foreground where the car rests. The foreground is covered with fresh, uneven snow. Running diagonally across the bottom right corner of the image appear to be tire tracks in the snow. This suggests that the driver, maybe even the photographer too, decided to pull over from a road covered in snow to snap this shot. The car’s make is hard to see, but it appears to be a 1970/80’s Chevrolet Blazer, or at least very similar to it. The car is off-centered and faces the camera at a two-thirds angle to the right. There is a lot of texture throughout the image, mostly due to the falling snow and its accumulation on the ground and car. Across the image are skewed white rectangular shapes in varying sizes. The image itself is grainy and approximately 6.3 x 9.4 inches.

I really like the photo because of the harsh black and white. It evokes a strong feeling (in me at least) despite showing only little. It also plays with positive and negative space in a fun way. It has inspired me to do the same in my own photos as well as be aware of texture, whether intention or not. Not to mention the angle of the shot was well thought out too, since the person had to really think about where to stand to get the shot without spending too much time in the cold.

Storch, Inuuteq. Necromancer. Copenhagen, Marrow Press, 2024.

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rushmackay0 · 2 months

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New Step by Step Map For best squishmallows

When you don’t know which five of such 5-inch people you’ll acquire in this Squishmallows mystery box, another thing is definitely correct — they’ll all be adorable and ready to hug. squishmallowsmart decide on is a fun strategy to grow your own private collection or present to a pal. want a new 1, especially a seasonal one which's all decked out for the vacations. Not simply do these Xmas stuffies make terrific gifts, but they also double as festive decor, so we don't blame you in case you get an additional a single yourself! This isn’t just any standard lion. Leonard’s mane is an eye fixed-catching rainbow color and he’s a vegetarian (lasagna is among his faves). To the novice marine biologist We've Anni the Jellyfish, who includes in lilac with extensive multi-coloured ribbon tentacles plus the sweetest of smiles. Find out about the items you’re pondering if you should buy and acquire tips on utilizing your hottest buys. desire a new a person, Specially a seasonal one that's all decked out for the vacations. Not only do these Xmas stuffies make wonderful presents, but Additionally they double as festive decor, so we don't blame you should you get an extra just one for yourself! You could capture this gingerbread person just by hitting "incorporate to cart." Be sure to snag him soon as this vacation address might be long gone in a snap! MauiMaui’s Tale: Maui is ready to conquer her two fears: skateboarding and scuba diving. She by now manufactured fantastic strides and it has checked roller coasters and rollerblading off her list. She doesn’t love to be afraid, which is why she likes to beat her fears by seeking out new things. The Squishmallow obsession is right here to remain, so if you are searhing for Easter basket ideas for small kids or pickier tweens and teenagers, these ultra-plush cuties certainly are a failsafe alternative. Ainhoca's Tale: This friendly gray ankylosaurus dinosaur serves as a school crossing guard in the nearby elementary school. Her potent armored tail blocks cars and assists all the opposite Squishmallows get safely and securely throughout the highway. One of many initially Squishmallows was Cam the Cat, recognized for his signature black and brown patches. Now you can meet his brother Calico, who pairs his fur with a classy purple beanie. He comes in several measurements but for this checklist we've selected the sixteen-inch because it's a terrific measurement for bedtime hugs. With its extensive open up arms, this Squishmallow owl is inviting you to give it a hug — and I don’t understand about you, but I’d happily oblige. Named Winston, the 10-inch select is an element in the hug mees selection that includes various other lovable creatures like an owl, lemur, and duck. After you get your palms on one of them, it’ll be in close proximity to-not possible not to get all of them. There is certainly https://www.google.com.my/url?q=https://squishmallowsmart.com about tie-dye that brings a smile to any youngster’s facial area, and this character is certain to delight. A purple and pink tie-dye unicorn, Lola is full of magic to ignite your minimal one's creativeness. A Squishmallows for your cat or dog! It's the very same Maui Pineapple character we really like, but in an enormous sizing by having an indented Center and cushioned bolsters within the edge so your pet can rest its head.

#squishmallows #mart #squishy #best #top #new

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nwbeerguide · 1 year

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Dogfish Head Craft Brewery announces exclusive sponsorship with the Tudor Games’ Electric Football World Championships.

Press Release

MILTON, Del., ... Dogfish Head sprints into the New Year as exclusive sponsor of Tudor Games’ Electric Football World Championships. Taking place Saturday, Feb. 4, and Sunday, Feb. 5, at Dogfish Head’s Tasting Room & Kitchen in Milton, Del., this tournament draws passionate and elite coaches from across the country to battle for the optimum prize, a swag package from Dogfish Head, a Tudor Ultimate (48 inches by 24 inches) Electric Football Game and of course, a year’s worth of bragging rights. Who will take home this year’s title?

Kickoff happens each day at 8 a.m., sharp! Spectators are encouraged to don their teams’ colors and cheer on their favorite players in-person. Those unable to make the trek to tailgate in coastal Delaware can tune-in to a live stream broadcast of the event’s most anticipated moments via Dogfish Head’s YouTube channel. That’s right! During the only weekend of the football season with no live games, fans can get their fix with Dogfish Head and Tudor Games Electric Football World Championships.

To get in on the action, join the Electric Football Nation and start training for next year’s World Championships tournament. To set new off-centered players up for success, Dogfish Head is dropping a custom, beer-themed edition of Tudor Games’ iconic Electric Football game. Team 60 Minute IPA and team 90 Minute IPA go head-to-head on the vibrating battlefield, competing for the title of best continually hopped beer. More on where to purchase is coming soon! Stay tuned to www.dogfish.com.

“The epitome of off-centeredness, this partnership is very close to my heart,” said Dogfish Head Founder & Brewer, Sam Calagione. “Back when I first started brewing, I used a Tudor Electric Football game to MacGyver the first-ever continual hopping machine. That machine birthed one of Dogfish Head’s most well-known beers, 90 Minute Imperial IPA, and it now sits in the permanent collections of the Smithsonian Museum.”

Dogfish Head’s original continual hopping device was built from a pickle bucket, an Electric Football game from Tudor Games and a boatload of hop pellets. Picture this … Calagione drills holes around the base of a pickle bucket and duct tapes it to an Electric Football game. He then rigs the game at a 45-degree angle above his beer’s boil kettle. After adding hop pellets to the pickle bucket, he turns on the game and its vibrations allow the hop pellets to shimmy-shake their way through the holes in the pickle bucket, down the field and into the boiling beer for a touchdown. By adding small, consistent increments of hops to his brew throughout the entirety of its boil, Calagione created a pungently hoppy yet balanced beer.

Dogfish Head’s proprietary brewing method of continual hopping is still in use today, albeit on a much larger, more industrial-sized scale. It is responsible for two of the Dogfish Head’s best-selling beers, 90 Minute Imperial IPA and 60 Minute IPA, both of which can be found in the brewery’s NEW Continually Hopped Variety Pack. Rounding out the variety pack’s lineup are two exclusive brews, Shelter Pale Ale, a continually hopped version of Dogfish Head’s original pale ale, and Dogfish Head Un’Ora, an Italian pilsner continually hopped for one hour (or “un-ora”). Dogfish Head’s unique process of continual hopping gives each of these beers elegant and fragrant hop aromas and tastes, without making them overly bitter.

“Just like brewing, the art of Electric Football requires time, practice and technique to perfect,” said President of Tudor Games, Doug Strohm. “Many people think Electric Football is random and uncontrollable, but we know better. Through our partnership with Dogfish, we can introduce more people to the fun of coaching, collection and customizing Electric Football and expanding our great gaming community.”

To celebrate the Electric Football World Championships coming to coastal Delaware, Dogfish Head will host a weekend full of football festivities at its hospitality locations, including a myriad of exclusive beer releases at the brewery’s Milton Tasting Room & Kitchen and Rehoboth Beach brewpub. Click HERE for more on the weekend’s events. To learn more about Dogfish Head and Tudor Games, see www.dogfish.com and www.tudorgames.com, respectively. To track down Dogfish Head’s continually hopped off-centered ales, check out the brewery’s Fish Finder.

...

About Dogfish Head:

Dogfish Head has proudly focused on brewing beers with culinary ingredients outside the Reinheitsgebot since the day it opened as one of the smallest American craft breweries more than 27 years ago. Dogfish Head has grown into a top-20 craft brewery and won numerous awards throughout the years, including Wine Enthusiast’s 2015 Brewery of the Year and the James Beard Foundation Award for 2017 Outstanding Wine, Spirits, or Beer Professional. A Delaware-based brand with Dogfish Head Brewings & Eats®, an off-centered brewpub and distillery, Chesapeake & Maine®, Dogfish Head’s seafood and cocktail spot, Dogfish Inn®, a beer-themed inn on the harbor, and Dogfish Head Craft Brewery®, a production brewery and distillery featuring the Tasting Room & Kitchen and Dogfish Head Distilling Co. ®, Dogfish Head is a supporter of the Independent Craft Brewing Seal, the definitive icon for American craft breweries to identify themselves to be independently-owned and carry the torch of transparency, brewing innovation and the freedom of choice originally forged by brewing community pioneers. Dogfish Head currently sells beer in all 50 states and Washington D.C. For more, visit www.dogfish.com, Facebook: @dogfishheadbeer, Twitter: @dogfishbeer, and Instagram: @dogfishhead.

About Tudor Games:

Since 1949, Tudor Games has sold over 40 million Electric Football games, igniting the imagination of football fans young and old. Since buying the company in 2012, we have been re-imagining and re-designing Electric Football. Our amazing new products bring kids and adults of all ages together for healthy play. What could be more fun than that?

#Delaware #DE #Milton #Dogfish Head Craft Brewery #Beer #Craft Beer #Press Release #Electric Football

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rcksmith · 3 years

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Lust — Kaz Brekker

Gif by @kitsyoung

Request: “Hey. I really like your writing and I was wondering if you would consider writing a Kaz piece with the smut prompts 76, 1 & 33. Obviously with your au rules. If it’s too much I completely understand tho”

“7, 17, 36, and 73 from the smut list for Kaz Brekker please? If not, no worries! 💖 Thank you!”

“Holy shit that last kaz brekker smut- AMAZING. Was wondering if you could write another smut with smut prompt #6? Of course if this bothers you just ignore it. Thank you so much 🥰”

Smut prompts:

1. “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

6. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

17. “after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy”

33. “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.”

36. "If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.“

73. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”

76. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nsfw, jealous, mention of fight.

Word count: 5k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

Thank you so much for the requests and for all affection 💖 I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

There is a theory that always, somewhere, there will be a person capable of making you lose your breath, and your reasoning, whenever he appears on the scene. Someone who robs you of your breath, your heartbeat, your ability to think clearly and your control to keep your hands not shaking.

And Kaz Brekker would always be that person for you.

From the first time you laid eyes on him, it's been a feeling of dying and going to heaven. Except that Heaven was, in reality, a hot, burning hell. Where your greatest punishment was being forced to watch his tall figure, who exuded masculinity by every inch, walking in front of you like a Renaissance painting very superb.

Nothing that Van Gogh, Da Vinci, and Picasso created has bordered on the personification of beauty that he was.

Kaz was beautiful in a very mysterious, dangerous and chilling way. You would describe his aura as the height of midnight in an enigmatic city, his hair the color of the core of sin and his features as lines that the god Ares would have drawn. Everything about him reeked of the fog of suspense stories, with a touch of lust.

All the looks he directed at you were caustic, flickering and intense as a candle flame, reverberating through your veins like angry eels and always make the room feeling charged with electricity, like the ground after the fall of a lightning. Everything between the two of you seemed to be filled with something fiery and arcane. From the gazes, the rubbing of shoulders, the times when the skins touched. Everything was a compilation of sensations that make you catch your breath whenever Kaz Brekker appeared.

He was your kryptonite. In all senses.

And that was exasperating in the extreme, at staggering levels. You felt your center of your sex vibrate whenever he directed you that voice whit baritone intonation and predatory looks, whenever the button-down shirts were tight enough for you to revel in the contours of his body, or sometimes when he wore the cane to signal or stopper something. This was the worst of them. His cane.

Have you lost count of how many times Kaz stopped you as counting money, by putting the tip of the cane over your hands, or stopped you from going somewhere by blocking your path with the cane, lifting the object horizontally in front of your belly. And every time you felt your legs tremble, your breath fade and a very dirty part of your brain whisper that you wanted him to use that object in you in more fun ways.

Your body was so responsive that there were times when you knew, with every fiber of your soul, that Kaz was able to read the paths in which your thoughts wandered. He lowered his gaze to you, in that breathless connection that promised to contain the most nefarious paths of sin, and maliciously curved the left corner of his lips in an arrogant, oblique expression. At such times, you could feel in your soul the words he did not say:

I know the perverted things that you are thinking.

And the truth was, he really knew. Kaz memorized every change in your breathing, every blush on your cheeks, every trembling of your hands, every your trembling look whit a frightened girl who had been caught thinking of something impure. He knew how your body was responsive, needy. And he himself had to control himself not to push you over the desk in his office and fuck you like an aggressive animal, bringing all your perverted thoughts to life.

It wasn't his physical reactions that kept him from taking action, but an even more visseral reaction than the pulsing desire he felt for you. Mine. The primal, determined, burning sensation of possession. That it ran through his veins like hot, bubbling lava. The desire was familiar, but this statement, not. Like the jealousy he felt for you, he quickly recognized the danger he was in.

If Kaz touched you…he knew he would never be able to let you go.

Mine. A statement that resonated spontaneously whenever he saw you, a testament to the reactions the two of you triggered in each other. However, not even the awareness of the dangerous game that was between you was able to dispel the climate of provocative sensuality that pulsed in the places whenever the two of you were together.

It was like playing with a powerful drug. One slip and he would be addicted forever.

On days like this, when Kaz had just come out of an exasperating meeting with Peka, a businessman and mobster who was always looking for ways to try and bring Kaz down, his already bad temper turned to terrible. He felt compelled to break something, drink a whole bottle of the best English whiskey in that club, and punch someone. Kaz felt the anger pulse through his veins, in a pure and perfect way.

He left the office, turning off his cell phone so he wouldn't be disturbed and descending the stairs to the center of his Crow Club, mind buzzing and anger seeping in his blood. He needed to unwind, maybe get into the car and head home. Maybe actually drink that whiskey bottle. Maybe both.

Kaz was about to take another step down, running a gloved hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, when his gaze met your figure. And that was when the already terrible temper rose to the very badly.

Normally, a vision like that would have just bothered him, a compulsion to do something. But that day, Kaz was at the height of his angriest feelings. And seeing you, bold as a goddess in that little black dress, next to Jesper at the gambling table and flirting with a guy to your left, did things with every last bit of patience and self-control he had.

His eyes never left you as he took another step, running his hand through his hair again to contain the unruly strands. You were laughing, downing another drink and placing a card on the table. You turn back to the man to your left, your eyelashes fluttered gracefully in a promise to allow him to guide your rein tonight.

But there would be no goddamn rein for that fucking guy to guide.

Kaz gripped his cane tightly, descending the other short stairs and advancing toward your with dangerous, determined, and angry steps.

"...in this part of the year, criminal law cases drop a lot." The damn guy was telling you, his boring blond hair falling over his blue eyes in a way Kaz found annoying.

To fucking hell with that blond-haired Dande.

“Y/n, Jesper!” Kaz tapped the end of his cane on the table, stopping the cards under the polished wooden end.

Everyone at the table looked at him startled, their actions frozen. He saw you swallow hard, a soft tremor sigh in your shoulders.

Good!

“Shouldn't you be at the door?” Kaz turned to Jesper, his eyes sparks with annoyance.

“Right now, Boss.” He stood up, giving you a strained smile and heading towards the door.

“Kaz…” You started, voice softly intoxicated.

You knew you weren't supposed to be at the gambling table, let alone so late at night and drunk, even if Jesper was by your side. You had the ability to win every play, in any game, and that ended up not only driving the others away, but leaving the men, already drunk and irrational, aggressive and with an extremely bruised ego. And they almost always wanted to retaliate physically. As much as there were security guards and cameras everywhere to keep something bad from happening, Kaz couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting you. Not even blinking insultingly in your direction.

He sent you an icy, sharp, steady look. A clear warning for you to stop there any excuse you were about to give. To be careful with the next words you would say. You swallowed hard, looking away and getting up from the table. Slightly wobbly from the drink, you fished your coat from the chair next to you, giving a strained, apologetic smile to the guy you'd been flirting with so far.

“I better go home and call an uber and…” You started, but Kaz cut your sentence.

“I'll driver you.”

His tone exuded annoyance and impatience, giving no opening to any objections, demonstrating that he was in no mood for games. Much less defiance of his orders. You knew him too well to recognize that that night had pulled his nerves beyond what he could handle, the strain and irritation in his eyes told you something had happened beyond what you knew. His jaw, straight and strong as glass, was clenched tightly, his night-colored hair was disheveled in an overwhelmingly attractive way, and his black robes sinfully marred every line of his body.

You should have become wary of the dangerous energy that he exuded through every pore at that moment. However, to your inebriated and excited brain, Kaz Brekker has never looked so fucking hot! Your underbelly vibrated in response to the personification of sin that Kaz was, your heart racing at alarming levels as you followed him out, walking over to his car.

Like every piece of Brekker's clothing, his car was sleek black, with big black wheels, tinted glass and dark leather seats. Hades' chariot. You felt your breath catch when Kaz opened the passenger door for you, his eyes avoiding yours, his jaw still clenched and dangerous energy exhaling through every fiber of his tall, lean body.

Holy Mother of God, this man was a perdition!

Kaz contained an instinctive desire to go back inside and tell that aspiring Dande that you weren't available. Instead, he closed the door when you got in and turned around in the car, closing his own and squeezing the steering wheel harder than he would have liked.

Midnight height light streamed in through the darkened car windows and gently illuminated the curve of your cheek, highlighting your skin that Kaz might have named the color of the gods. So much attention was too seductive. Emotions and reactions still bubbled through each his vein like scandant water, mingling with months of frustrated desires and burning sexual tension.

At that moment, jealousy laced him. Mine. Amazing and at the same time propelled by dangerous strength, Kaz tried to trap that feeling back into the dungeon of his soul. He controlled his fury, yet he couldn't completely tame. Annoyance turned to anger. Starting driving the car forward, Kaz tried to think of anything but how you looked like the Goddess Aphrodite on that dark bench. Splendid as a heat ray in a winter day.

“Kaz…” You started, that gentle, repentant tone that stirred every spark in his soul.

He hated how his name on your lips sounded so sensual, so right and so delicious. He would give everything he had to hear you moan his name.

“Don't start” he warned, now not because of latent annoyance, but because he didn't know if he could stop himself if he heard your voice.

However, you didn't make things any easier for him.

"You don't have to be so angry." You go "I wasn't even using all my intellect on the game, I wasn't trying to win."

Kaz didn't even know if that was the core of the problem anymore. Was he angry that you went to a table where it was dangerous? Yes. But the waters were much deeper than that, much more dangerous. The way your smile, sweet and sensual, was directed at that guy, reeled in Kaz's mind, impregnated with the plague. He felt the blood burn in his veins just remembering how melted you looked for that man. And as much as he couldn't blame you, because you were free and single, the primal, irrational part of him screamed so much louder now.

Mine.

“This does not matter anymore.” It was the only thing he managed to say, the very sensations drowning him.

“And it wasn't even that dangerous.” But unlike him, you were obliterating the burning emotions that Kaz exuded. “There were only a few players drunker than a door, and Jesper was on my side, and also James, who was very charming and...”

Kaz almost lost direction, making the car bounce smoothly. He staked his eyes at you, puzzled and bubbling.

“James?”

“Yeah, the blond guy who…”

"I don't want to know, Y/n." He cut you off "I don't want to hear about the guys you allow to drool around you like mangy dogs."

The distilled rage was impossible to contain, and before Kaz knew it, the words were out. He turned forward again, his hands tighter on the steering wheel.

“Wait…” Your tone was slightly smug, and the way you rubbed one thigh against the other was impossible for Kaz to miss.

The grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“You are jealous?” Your intonation dropped to a low, sensual, provocative level.

Suddenly, Kaz's entire body became very aware of your body inches away. He could feel the heat that you radiated and the lyrical, sweet and sinful scent of your perfume flooded all his senses. The air grew thin, puffy and stuffy, and if it had been December cold outside, Kaz would still feel the height of summer in that car. Flashes of excitement and danger rippled through the car, and the brief silence grew even more charged with sexual tension and lustful anticipation that stirred every fiber of Kaz's being.

He made the mistake of looking at you again, and your softly mischievous smile that promised a lifetime of satisfied desires only served to incite his madness. Kaz had never understood how a man could want a woman so badly that he acted irrationally and carelessly. But now he understood. And when he realized you tried to stifle a sensual sigh from the way he was looking at you, his body won the fight against his mind and Kaz stopped abruptly the car at the red traffic light.

The sexual tension between you had become unbearable. In one moment, Kaz was fighting the series of overwhelming and disturbing emotions that dominated his entire being, and in the next moment, he had taken your mouth with his in a fiery, fierce, animal kiss. Stealing all the air from both of you, his thoughts, and his sanity.

He held your face firmly in his hands, his fingers going down to the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, turning everything into something more caustic and desperate. Yours hands went to his arms, moving up to his shoulders and cupping the sides of his neck, pulling him closer. Kaz's tongue inched into your mouth without waiting for permission, conquering and claiming every fiber of your body, of your soul, in a continued of kisses you couldn't tell where one ended and another began.

The moan of satisfaction you let out gave him a lust and desire unlike anything Brekker had ever felt. Like hot, addictive honey down in his throat. He was still gripped by jealousy, annoyance and possessiveness. With the desire for you pulsing in his body just like his heartbeat.

Kaz pulled back millimetrically, his blue eyes overshadowed by the heat of the moment, his lips red and swollen from the sinful kisses he gave you. At that moment, Kaz Brekker looked like an angry young God, and you've never felt more attracted to someone in your life than you are now.

You looked at him, panting and needy, wishing with all your might that he repeat the same actions. And you knew he realized that. Perfectly. You saw the spark of male satisfaction ignite in his eyes as he absorbed your desire. He was so close... so very close, and you couldn't stand the enormous anxiety for a caress, a kiss, anything.

His cocky smile intensified as you put more pressure in your touch his skin, your fingers trailing down his neck and back to his shoulders, silently pleading for him to do something with you. Anything he wanted.

Kaz lowered his one gloved hand to your jaw, thumb and forefinger squeezing your chin and making you look at him directly, you staring into the deep, shrewd blue of his eyes. He pulled you closer by the grip on your chin, the husky, erotic words hitting your lips like a promise of sin as he said:

“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to.”

It was impossible to control the loud, needy sigh that escaped, your center throbbing in despair and wetting the thin cloth of your panties. You wanted he to touch you more, pull your body against his until there was not a single sigh left, claim your soul and your body as his. You had parted your lips to say something, most likely a plea for him to continue, but the traffic light turned green and Kaz took his hands off you, straightening up on the bench and putting the car move.

In the absence of his warmth, his body, you felt cold, empty and frozen. As if Kaz were your sun and you were Icarus. Feeling the compulsion to need to get closer, complete its magnitude and bask in his rays. Every cell in your body begged for him, in needy and submissive requests, telling you to accept anything he told you, that he gave you, as long as it touched you.

“If I knew that to make you kiss me I would have to flirt with someone else, I would have done it a long time ago.” You teased, a satisfied, malicious smile on your lips.

Kaz looked at you in annoyance. In a clear warning that you should never more do that again.

"If you wanted me to kiss you like the brat you are, you just needed to have asked." He countered your game to the full.

"But if I want more than that?" But just as he knew how to play, so did you.

You swiped the tip of your tongue across your lips, kicking off your shoes and pulling your legs over the dashboard of the car, exposing your nearly bare thighs through the thin black fabric of your dress. Your actions instantly caught Kaz's eyes, and his grip on the steering wheel grew stronger and his breathing heavier.

The air inside the car became more ardent, burn, charged with eroticism and lust that left both of you breathless. An electrifying energy coursed through their bodies, as if they had been struck by a bolt of fire. You wanted him in a way you never thought you could want anyone.

Kaz took a deep breath, and looked at you with dangerous predator eyes as he said:

"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week."

The words made your body tremble. But if Kaz was trying to dissuade you, that was the last thing he should have told you. Instead of taming the fire inside you, it threw gasoline into the aggressive fire. You pressed your thighs together, your body sensitive to his words filled with burning promise.

In five minutes of insane courage, you took your feet off the dashboard, leaned toward Kaz, and brushed his neck with your lips. In slow, burning, hot kisses, you traced a path to the pulse in his neck, opening your lips slightly to brush your tongue over that pulse point.

“Please.” You beg.

Kaz's moan was low, but loud enough in your mind. You were being his undoing and you knew it. Suddenly, the car veered to the right and came to an abrupt stop. You would have lost your balance if Kaz's hands hadn't clung to your waist, pulling you in one movement to his left thigh, pressing your soaked core into the black fabric of his pants.

You gasped loudly, or he, or both. And in the next moment, his mouth was on yours again. The kiss was more aggressive, possessive, angry and ardent. Kaz kissed you as if he wanted to decree you his, proclaim his possession. You didn't see when he removed his gloves, but the touch of his skin with on your thighs was all you could think of.

“Kaz…” You moaned into his mouth, and the grip on your thighs moved up to your hip, digging his fingers into your thin dress-covered skin with such force it was sure to leave marks tomorrow. "Please."

You knew what you were begging for, but the moment Kaz forced your waist to move against his thigh, rubbing your pulsing core against his thigh, you forgot even your own name. And Kaz knew it. Then, like dominant man who wanted to see you surrendered to him that he was, his mouth went to your ear as he whispered:

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Kaz wiggled his thigh against you, making your clit roll against the soggy fabric of your panties.

You moaned loudly, your hands tightening on his shirt, your face hiding in his chest as an overwhelming, aching pleasure invaded your system. It felt good, but unbearable for being so little, churning something in your belly that made you despair for more.

"Y-yes." You whimpered, rolling your hips on his thigh.

Kaz's bare hand crept up the slit between your thighs, your dress already balled up at the top of your waist, and dipped his fingers into the juncture of your pussy and his thigh, pulling your panties to the side and making you feel the fabric of his dark pants against your wet, hot flesh. You moaned louder, your grip on his shirt tighter and your hips rocked harder for have any friction.

“Do you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are? Is that what you've wanted all this time?” His words, husky and strong, in that intense, dominant intonation, sent all your self-control to hell.

"Yes." You sobbed. “I-I need you."

But his hand in your panties went up to your chin, and he forced you to look him in the eye once more. The electric intensity of that look turned you on even more, making you gasp as his thigh still rocked against your throbbing clit.

“After that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy” It was very hard to think with all the stimuli he was giving you, but the thunderous blue eyes warned you to pay attention to his words “Do you think you deserve me to fuck you?”

His gaze invaded you so deep and so warm and intense that you wondered if he was trying to leave a burning imprint on your soul. All over your body, overwhelming desires resonated, and you gave in to the compulsion to roll his thigh further, whimpering from the pressure on your clit.

"I'm s-so sorry." You whimpered, eyes pleading with he "It won't happen again."

"Won't happen what?" He tightened his grip on your chin, not painfully, but firmly to get your attention.

"It won't happen again, Sir."

The reward for your obedience came in an aggressive, hungry kiss, his hand in your chin dropping for your hip and wiggle his thigh at your needy pussy.

"Do you want to cum?" He teased you.

"Yes, S-sir."

"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

Then, as if to reiterate his statement, his mouth clutte to yours once more, his thigh swayed with more vigor and his bare hands moved up to the neckline of your dress.

His warm palms and long fingers lowered the straps of your dress and released your braless breasts, your nipples hard with pleasure and your breasts swollen with arousal.

Your moan was muffled by Kaz's, and he just released your mouth to lower his lips to your left breast, capturing the innocent nipple with his mouth and rolling his tongue across your flesh. You moaned louder, your waist twisting desperately against his thigh as your hands tangled in the strands of his black hair.

Kaz delighted in every inch of you, his hands going back to your waist as his mouth attacked your other breast, leaving a trail of hot saliva on his tight, needy nipples. Brekker was consumed by a fierce hunger and need, so overpowering that he pressed his fingers to your skin as if you were his last meal. He'd wanted for so long to do all that, to dive into your body like a starving man, savoring every inch of your warm skin.

Letting out a loud, delighted moan, Kaz increased his thigh movements as he suckled on your nipple, feeling flung to hell heaven as you squealed softly and collapsed onto his thigh, smearing his black fabric with your hot cum. But Kaz couldn't care less about the fucking pants. His cock hard and rigid as a sword hilt throbbed desperately, commanding him to sink into the heat of your slippery walls.

"This is much better than I dreamin." You whimpered softly, your face still buried in his neck, your waist wiggling slyly in his thigh.

"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?" He teased you, taking his hands to your panties away from the center of your pussy and pulling them between your legs, tucking them in his pants pocket.

You nodded, your mouth dipping into his neck in broken kisses as your hands went to his pants belt, trying to get rid of any barrier between the two of you as quickly as possible.

"Please, please." You begged, flustered as Kaz stopped your hip movements with his hands "I need to feel you inside me."

Your plea was sated with an arrogant kiss as Kaz reached for his pants, pulling the fabric of the boxer together and letting pop out his dick throbbing, pulsing and his swollen head, brushing in your pussy with lazy strides.

"S-sir!" You cried, trying to earn more.

"Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you."

The strong, long arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your chest against his chest as Kaz guided his dick to the entrance to your pussy, with one hand. He play whit you, pressing his head into your entrance just enough to make you feel the pressure, recoiling when you swayed frantically for more. The painful pleasure sent tears to your eyes, and you sobbed loudly as you were just toy in his hands.

A few hot tears ran down your face as you whimpered, helpless in his arms to get what you wanted.

"You know, you look real pretty when you cry." Kaz pressed his mouth to yours.

In that second, he completely sank his dick into you, swallowing your loud scream as the thickness of it widened you and hit the bottom of the well. The grip of his arm around you tightened, and Kaz lifted you and brought you let down badly, drown his dick even more deeply inside your hot, wet, desperate walls.

"S-sir!" You moaned loudly, his mouth leaving yours, but not pulling away enough and letting you feel his hard breath hit your lips.

You followed his thrusts, bouncing your waist up and down hard and letting his dick beat frantically inside you, robbing you of your breath and your ability to think. Your moans mingled with his, the pornographic sounds of their bodies crashing together were loud and you thanked God the car windows were black and the street was deserted.

"So fucking good slut!" Kaz growled against your lips, one hand leaving your body to snake down to your throat, maintaining a firm, dominant grip.

You moaned his name and his title between loud moans and broken sobs. Yours hands closed around the shirt off his shoulders and the waist shimmied between the thrusts, making sure his dick was completely inside you.

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat!” Kaz tightened his grip on yoir neck, watching you tilt your head back and expose your entire body to the delight of his eyes.

He growled louder, spurred on by that sinful sight, and increased the rhythm that pounded inside you, filling every inch of you and sinking down as anatomically as possible. Kaz felt possessed by a wild beast, insatiable and euphoric, and each thrust he gave you was more force he inflicted on you, marking you as his.

Kaz pulled your neck to him, pressing your mouth to his as he growled against your lips: “Mine.”

You nodded frantically, the apex bursting in a burst of pleasure as his dick came out and sank in hard, desperate, urgent strokes.

“Yours”

You promised, kissing him urgently and swallowing a low cry as his dick shuddered inside you, flooding you with the hot liquid until your walls overflowed, giving you a feeling of being incredibly full. You whimpered into his mouth, exchanging a sloppy kiss as Kaz gave you a few more thrusts, making sure his cum would fill your every inch, not letting you dare waste a drop.

“Mine” he repeated through the kiss.

so, the weather??? HAHAHA, anyway friends, i hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget consult the rules if you want to request for some Kaz smut. Love u. O

#kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz x kruge #kaz brekker au #kaz brekker smut #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker could break my legs with his cane and i would say thank you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker #shadow and bone smut #inejgayfa #jesper fahey #kaz x jesper

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barnesbabee · 3 years

Text

collab || J.Y

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ 2 - ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴍ.ʟɪꜱᴛ

Summary: Two famous porn stars have a fun collab together.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x gn!reader

Words: Just enough

⚠ although there is no mention of gender, the reader wears makeup and lingerie, so if you are uncomfortable with that, don't read ⚠

As Yunho dried his hair with a small towel, he heard the familiar ding sound from his social media. He had just finished uploading the edited version of his live stream, so it wasn't unusual for him to be contacted by a bunch of people right after, however, he didn't expect to see you.

You weren't well known in the porn scenario, as you were fairly new and the competition was vast, but your 'Around The World' series had become a huge success and a major hit for its originality.

Yunho was quite a fan of the series, so when he saw your message, his fingers were crossed.

Y/N: Hello! My name is Y/N, I'm not sure if you know my work, but I am a porn star that is currently doing a series called 'Around The World' where I... well, fuck people all around the world. My next stop is South Korea and I have seen your work before and I think our style is very similar and I would love to do a collab with you! Feel free to check out my work on my page, I hope to hear from you soon! xoxo

The tall man squealed like a high schooler getting a text from his crush, he's always wanted a collab and now he was about to get one in one of the biggest series of the moment!

Yunhxxx: Hello Y/N! I am aware of your series and I am a fan! I would love to do the collab with you! I'll send you my number so we can talk about the details more comfortably :)

Part of your anxiousness died down at his response. Most porn stars were very polite and kind in front of the camera, and in business discussion, all for that quick buck, but you'd find, with your series, that a lot of them were just assholes with a huge ego. You had a good feeling about Yunho, but you didn't want to get your hopes up and then be disappointed.

The arrangements didn't take long, as you were both excited for the collab to happen, making it very easy to communicate. Yunho was kind enough to offer his own home for you to sleep in, arguing that 'whoever fucks me gets to sleep in my house for free'.

Yunho spent the weekend preparing everything for your arrival on Monday morning: he cleaned his whole house, stocked his fridge and cabinets with all sorts of food, and sanitized every toy of his. By the time he received your 'I'm on my way!' text, his house was the cleanest it had ever been.

The man showered, put on his best cologne, and applied some dark eyeshadow under his eyes. As he stood in front of the closet in his briefs only, he wondered what he should go for. A sophisticated look? A sexy look? An outlaw-looking look? He wanted something to get you immediately attracted to him. Yunho wanted to make you feel good, not to make you act as if you felt good.

Ultimately he chose a black button-up and black suit pants. He decorated his long fingers (that he had come to learn was something many people liked about him) and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

Yunho was aware of his innocent appearance. He had had his cheeks squeezed one too many times, so he caught on quickly. However, the man loved to play with his looks. He loved to make people wonder what kind of person he was, with a cute face, yet an intimidating look.

Before he knew it, his doorbell rang. Yunho took one last look in the mirror, just to make sure everything was in its place and walked towards the door. The first hello wasn't awkward at all, as you'd already had a few zoom calls to discuss what would happen in your collab, just to make sure there were no misunderstandings.

Once you stepped in with your suitcase, you couldn't help but notice how neat, modern, and well decorated his house was. The walls were white with big windows, and the furniture was a mix of grey, light blue, and white. Yunho lead you to the guest room where you'd be staying, and it was a lot nicer than you expected. The bed was high and large, the duvet was grey with a bunch of fluffy white and red pillows decorating it. In front of the bed was a modern black vanity with lightbulbs around the squared mirror, and against the wall in front of the door was a black, sliding door wardrobe, with a large, orange, and red abstract painting of a couple. His house looked simple yet classy, with just the right amount of colour and decoration. You took a look at him, his dark look contrasting the house.

"You already got prepared?"

Yunho looked a little puzzled for a second, but then understood. "Oh! Oh no, you've just arrived, you must be tired! This is just... how I dress?" He said, feeling a little embarrassed.

You took a good look at his outfit.

"You always dress like that? Wow..."

Yunho's cheeks became a little red at the comment, and he stumbled over his words as he thanked you. He was used to receiving compliments when he had his clothes off, but with clothes on? Not so much... Before closing the door, Yunho told you to feel at home, and that when you were ready you could start setting everything up in the room he used to shoot.

The man had never felt that nervous, so when he finally closed the door, he immediately headed to his living room, and found the whiskey bottle he kept for emergencies. He poured a generous glass and sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone as he waited for you.

You were pretty much used to the routine, and since you had a stopover in a neighboring country and spent the night there, the trip hadn't been too tiring. You sat on the very convenient vanity and re-did your makeup. You liked to match your look to your type of content, so you went for a dark look: dark purple lipstick, a heavy, black smokey eye, and loads of mascara. You made sure to apply a lot, so it would run down your face and give the viewers the fucked out look they loved to see.

The lingerie matched your makeup: black lace lingerie with some bling here and there, and a garter belt to accessorize. You grabbed your robe from your suitcase and exited the room.

"Yunho?" You called, peeking your head from behind the wall.

"Hm?"

His eyes widened when he looked up. You were completely different from the person he had met.

"I am ready if you are!"

He nodded and stood up, downing the rest of his 2nd whiskey cup in one go. Yunho took you upstairs and opened the door to his 'studio'.

In the center of the room was a carpet, and a big, empty space behind it.

"I usually move the bed or the couch over there, depending on what I want to do that day. I found that it was easier to move the furniture than the whole set up." He explained, pointing at the empty space.

Against the wall, opposite of you, there was a bed, much like the one on your bedroom, and a nice, black leather couch. Beside you there was a closet, where Yunho kept all his toys, accessories, and streaming outfits. Other than that it was just the usual setup: a desk with a computer, professional lights, and a camera.

Yunho walked over to the couch and moved it with ease to the empty space.

"So we've already decided?" You asked.

The man smirked as if simply entering the room turned him into a completely different person.

"I already have everything planned out for you dear, it would be rude to have my guests work."

You blushed slightly, and sat on the couch, waiting for the green light.

You watched as he opened the closet, displaying his wide collection. He picked a bunch of stuff that he set on top of a towel on the floor.

"Alright, that's about it."

You cocked your head to the side, in confusion.

"You're not getting dressed?"

Yunho reached for the choker he had brought and softly placed it around your neck, tying it just tight enough. He hooked his finger on the big metal ring on the front and tugged on it. You followed his silent command and knelt on the ground, in front of the couch.

"I'm already dressed, for the concept we're gonna try."

You were getting curious and excited. You stayed still as he started up the live stream. Yunho turned on the lights, set up the camera, and pressed 'Start Live Video'. The screen counted down from five, until the live started.

Yunho sat on the couch behind you, and placed his large hand on your head.

The man smirked as soon as the comments started raining.

There was a mixture of fuck yeah's and happy cheers as they recognized Yunho, and became excited for what was to come. The live was obviously happening on your account, although you would always split the tips with the person you worked with.

"Hello," Yunho started, and you let him take the lead "welcome to the 24th edition of Around The World, I am today's guest, and we have such a great show for you today, don't we?"

Yunho tugged on your hair, making you wince. You looked at the camera and nodded.

The 30 dollar donation ding sounded, announcing that someone had made a request.

'Make her sit on your thigh'

You let Yunho take the lead once more, hooking his finger on your choker's hoop and pulling you up, to sit on his thigh. You hummed as you rolled your hips, causing friction between your core and his thigh. Your hand ran along his torso, feeling the fabric of his shirt.

"He has too many clothes, don't you think?" You asked the camera, in a flirty tone.

There was a rain of comments agreeing with you, and you immediately got to work, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. His dick print was already very visible in his pants, and you could now understand why he wanted to wear that look.

You removed his shirt, slowly and teasingly, as the viewers praised Yunho's toned body.

The male hooked his finger on your underwear and snapped it against your skin. Your little whimper at the sudden pain made him smirk.

Yunho ran his hands along your body, making you shiver from the cold metal of his rings.

Tips and donations rained down with many requests, and so you went back on the floor and laid your head on Yunho's thigh, your face mere inches away from his hard-on. You perked your ass up and traced the shape of his cock with your finger.

"What do you think? Should we reward them?" Yunho asked, petting your head as he stared into the camera.

As expected, everyone gave you the green light to continue, so you slowly opened his fly, to find he had no underwear on. You freed him from his pants, gripping his length in your hand. You kept eye contact with the male, and although you were a professional, you were always nervous when you had to take dicks on the bigger side.

You spat on his tip, and played with his cock for a second, before slowly inserting it in your mouth. Yunho groaned and threw his head back, taking in the warmth of your mouth. His hand was tangled in your hear, gripping it and tugging on it from time to time.

"Shit, you're doing so good..."

Yunho was very vocal, to your (and the viewer's) pleasure.

The 50$ notification ding sounded, and a message played right after.

'bby I wanna see you jump on his cock'

Yunho smirked and gripped your hair, in a firm, yet not painful way. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip, cleaning the remaining saliva.

"Hmm, you know what, so do I."

You stripped from your underwear, in a sensual way for the viewers (and Yunho) to enjoy.

Yunho slapped his thigh, and you climbed onto his lap, slowly but surely sinking down on his length. You gripped onto his shoulders for stability and groaned as every inch of his cock disappeared inside of you.

His hands gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks in a beautiful way for the camera to see. The male helped you, as you rode him, not only by holding your hips and guiding you, but also by snapping his hips up against yours. Filthy slapping sounds along with the mixture of your moans echoed in the room, and the donations were reaching their peak.

"F-fuck baby you're s-so good, you're doing so well."

You gripped his shoulders harder, as his praises drew you closer and closer to your edge.

"They're c-close! Should we l-let them cum?"

It was impressive how professional Yunho was. How he looked so immersed in you, so tired and fucked out, with his fringe sticking to his forehead and eyes burning into your soul, yet he didn't forget to interact with the viewers.

There were many people leaning towards yes, begging to hear the way you sounded as you came, and so he worked hard until you screamed his name and tightened around his cock. He let you rest and recompose for a second, but the way you clenched around him made it impossible for him to hold it in any longer.

"Shit, get on the ground."

You gladly complied, and got on your knees for him, immediately sticking out your tongue, as you could predict what would come after.

Yunho jerked himself off to your fucked out face, and soon a string of curses came out of his mouth, as he spilled all over your face. He smirked and wiped some of his cum off of your face with his thumb.

"Say ah, pretty baby."

You smiled and opened your mouth. He inserted his finger in your mouth and you happily licked it clean.

Yunho cupped your face with his hand, and smiled.

"You behaved so well, I might have to reward you again."

His head tilted to the side, pointing to the couch, and you followed. You sat down on the couch, and Yunho knelt in front of you. His arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you forward, so your hole would be of easy access to him.

The man teased you, as his tongue danced around your hole, not quite getting where you wanted him. You rolled your hips up, earning a slap to your inner thigh.

He looked up at you, with a hint of darkness in his eyes.

"Behave."

It didn't take long for you to get what you wanted, as he started tongue fucking you, with the help of his fingers. You gripped his hair, and your back arched as your high approached once more.

You came quickly, with his tongue still inside you, and he held your trembling legs and body, to keep you stable.

He didn't move for a second, giving you time to breathe and rest. After you had recomposed yourself, he helped you up, and the two of you shared a heated kiss, Yunho's hands never leaving your ass, that he definitely had a fixation with.

You finished the stream by thanking the viewers and donors and shut everything off. Once everything was done, you sighed and plopped onto the couch.

"Do you not want to shower?" Yunho questioned, as he saw the mess in your face and body.

You chuckled.

"Yes I do, very much, but I'm so fucked out..."

Yunho very kindly scooped you up.

"Well, I wouldn't want my guest to work too hard, I'll help you out."

#ateez #ateez smut #jeong yunho #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #kpop #kpop smut #kinktober #ateez kinktober #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez gender neutral #ateez readder insert #ateez reactions #ateez reaction #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez yunho smut #yunho ateez smut

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notnctu · 3 years

Text

jaehyun: the charming

━ welcome home to housemating smut series :)

☆ click the link above to read background info about this housemate!

☆ GENRE: smut, pwp ☆ DETAILS: fem!reader, college!au, housemate!au ☆ WARNINGS: explicit language, nicknames, dirty talking, possessiveness, rough sex, praise kink, oral (giving and receiving), spitting, choking, unprotected (wrap up yall!!) ☆ WC: 4.1k ☆ SYNOPSIS: A harmless game of Truth Or Dare with your housemates reveals Jaehyun’s true desires and has him eyeing you the entire night.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: this is the only part for jaehyun ! sorry for the long wait,, i started this during my writing hiatus and did not have much motivation to finish it since its been really difficult to write smut lately :/ regardless, i hope you can leave me some feedback if you liked it <3 doyoung’s part will be the next in the series once i get to it !

“If you could kiss anyone in this room right now, who would it be?” Johnny beckons his drink to Jaehyun, who blinks at him with knitted eyebrows and a quizzical expression.

It’s one of those rare nights where all your housemates are home and Doyoung is actually out of his room to participate in everyone’s foolishness. All six of you sit comfortably in the living room as the fifth round of Truth or Dare commences.

You share the large couch with Jaemin and Haechan, sandwiching you in between them happily. Doyoung, Jaehyun and Johnny are seated in their own respective chairs that circle the tiny coffee table in the center.

And if your housemates could be any more distracting, Jaehyun sits laid-back without a shirt on and grey sweatpants that fit loosely on his legs, manspreading as if he has all the space in the world. His soft hair falls messily around his face from constantly running his hands through it and his abs flex without him needing to do much.

It’s hard not to stare, but no one in the room calls you out for doing so. They’ve all stared at you plenty enough times on other occasions, so it would be hard for any of them to give you a counterargument. Jaehyun simply looks good enough to devour, and he can say the same for you as he steals sly glances your way.

Every subtle connection of smoldering eye contact sends a thrill down your core, and the smirk paired with his dotted dimple has you swooning for him over and over. Jaehyun knows every way to drive you wild without needing to say or touch you.

It’s unbelievable how that man has only allowed you to see his intimacy once with the way he whistles whenever you walk down the stairs in a cute outfit or how often he compliments your butt just for the pure satisfaction of you having one. Despite having the highest body count in the entire house, he has great self control and never comes off as being too needy.

And every time he is needy, he already has another girl in his room to satisfy him. So, this never gave you another opportunity to sleep with him as much as you wanted to. If you weren’t so bashful, you might’ve had enough courage to just walk into his room and ask.

Nonetheless, here you both are: sitting across from each other during a slowly escalating game of Truth or Dare and eyeing each other every chance you can get.

“Shouldn’t you ask y/n that question?” Jaehyun mumbles, finding Johnny’s question rather ridiculous since the ratio in the room is 1 girl to 5 guys and finds no curiosity to know how bad of a kisser the rest of his housemates are. “I think you’d rather know her answer than mine.”

You clear your throat when every attention is drawn toward you, expecting you to give a truthful response when it isn’t even your turn. “What if I didn’t pick truth?”

“You want a dare?” Jaemin rests a hand on your bare thigh and turns delightfully toward you with a dark mischievous gleam in his eye.

Gulping, you try your best to diffuse the situation. “It’s not my turn.”

“I’ll give my turn to you.” Jaehyun smiles and proceeds to gesture toward you to speak.

Bewildered, you’re looking to Doyoung to protest about such unfair grounds of switching the rules. However, he doesn’t say a word, shrugging it off like it’s not a big deal. “You’re all unbelievable.” You scoff sarcastically.

“C’mon, it’s just a friendly game. Everyone wants you to go.” Haechan clicks his tongue out of impatience, the anticipation practically suffocating the whole house.

“Ask me when it’s my turn.” You stand your ground and send Jaehyun a quick glare.

The tension drops instantly from the stiff atmosphere. Haechan’s groan erupts beside you as he sits back against the couch with his arms crossed.

“Okay, buttercup. I’ll answer Johnny’s ridiculous question, but know that I have a good one for you.” Jaehyun leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together loosely. “I’d kiss y/n.”

Your breath hitches, but no one else is actually surprised by his answer. “Yeah, I’d kiss y/n too if this was my selection pool.” Doyoung remarks with a roll in his eyes.

“I mean,” Jaehyun sits back coolly in his chair, hands stretched behind his head and every muscle flexed in view. Every movement has your mouth watering at his impressive body on display. “Even if we were playing with other people, I’d still choose y/n.” A dimple smile causes your heart to beat rapidly.

Johnny scoffs, “if we circled up all your flings, you’d still choose y/n?”

Jaehyun ponders the hypothetical for a second, but his eyes land back on yours and every hesitation disappears. “Yeah. She has the softest lips.” He says, very matter of fact.

Your fingers unconsciously graze against your lips briefly, before you clear your throat and shake away the power of his arousing words. “Okay, okay. Let’s move on?”

“Okay, y/n. Truth or Dare?” Jaehyun picks this open opportunity to bring the attention back to you. Your housemates wait patiently for your choice, with eyebrows raised in the thick tension that this simple game has built up.

With shifty eyes and a dry throat, you mutter. “Dare.”

There is a notable sparkle in Jaehyun’s dark lustful orbs. “I dare you to kiss the person that you think is the hottest in this room.”

“Well, it would be difficult to kiss myself.” Rolling your eyes, the edge in your tone is enough to make the rest of them snicker.

“I’m done after this round. It’s always the weirdest twists whenever we play games like this together.” Doyoung crosses his arms, throwing a small fit at the request.

Johnny smirks, “because you know y/n wouldn’t kiss you?”

Doyoung’s mouth opens to protest, but he falls short of a defensive response. He takes his defeat and slumps back against the chair, pouty and grumpy. “Just get it over with and kiss Jaehyun.”

With a turn of events, you get up from your spot on the couch. Jaehyun follows your every move, your stare never leaving his own. Like a lost puppy, you lead him into thinking the kiss would be for him. However, you lean forward and hold Doyoung’s chin gently, planting a soft kiss on the equally shocked boy.

“I think Doyoung is the hottest because he treats me with the most chivalry.” The sweetness that taints your mocking words has Doyoung turning red and Jaehyun turning into stone. The charming smile that lights up your darkest parts is gone, and Jaehyun blinks back at you with a tight jaw.

Jaemin and Haechan read the room too well, excusing themselves before the tension reaches its peak. Doyoung gulps, glancing between you and Jaehyun, and awkwardly makes his way back to his room. Johnny chuckles at the abrupt end of the night, patting Jaehyun’s shoulder lightly before also heading up to bed.

Every next move is crucial. With your weight barred on your left leg, you cross your arms with as much attitude as you can to push Jaehyun’s buttons further. “Jaehyun, if you really wanted a kiss, you could just ask me without wasting a turn.”

“Where’s the fun in that, buttercup? You clearly like testing your limits.” His voice drops at the end of his sentence. Jaehyun stands up, approaching you slowly. “But if you want my attention, you could just ask me without trying to make me jealous.”

His boldness catches you off guard, leaving you a bit speechless to formulate a proper explanation. Your hesitation gets caught in your throat when Jaehyun lightly places his hand on your waist. “It’s late, we should probably get to bed.” His raspy baritone cadence rumbles your chest.

Fingers graze his arm softly, but he pulls away before you can get a hold of him. “Are you actually going to sleep?”

Jaehyun walks to the bottom of the staircase, motioning you to walk first. “No, I’ll be up thinking about you.” A smirk finishes his sensual taunt and you cautiously head up the stairs.

He follows directly after you and a whistle escapes his lips. “Have I given you your daily ass compliment yet?”

“Got one this morning.” With each step, Jaehyun is quick to match.

“Well, you look amazing everyday.” He meets you at the top of the steps and when you’re ready to part back into your room, he stops you. “Where’s my kiss goodnight, baby?”

You can’t possibly count the numerous times you’ve rolled your eyes being around him. “In my room, if you dare wish to enter.” Though your statement was clearly sarcastic, Jaehyun raises an questionable eyebrow.

“I’ll only come if you let me in.” His innocent eyes do not match his sinister tone and his hidden innuendos.

“I guess I always go into your room, it would be nice to have a change.” Taking his hand, you lead him down the hallway. The doors of your other housemates are oddly closed, but you figured they wanted some privacy. His warm hand feels rough against your palm and your heart drums as you two inch closer to your bedroom.

Jaehyun gently closes your door and examines your room as if he’s never been inside. “Don’t be a stranger.” You say, dropping his hand and sitting at the edge of your bed.

“Do you leave your underwear drawer open for all your friends to see?” He snickers, his pinky holding your special red lace panties up in the air. Your eyes go wide as you quickly yank the material out of his possession and shove the cabinet closed.

“I wouldn’t have figured you were the nosey type.” You grumble, but he takes this close proximity to pull you into his bare chest. His firm hand gives your ass a soft squeeze.

“It was quite obviously on display.” His dark whisper sends a chill down your spine and butterflies to swirl in the pit of your core. The faint smell of his body wash suffocates you all around and his sultry stare has you melting in his hands. It is so difficult to resist him, you want everything that is Jung Jaehyun.

Your words are quite possibly caught in your throat, but the hesitation does not show in your expression. Lightly, your fingertips trace the outline of his biceps and his dark stare follows every drag. Admittedly, Jaehyun will find any excuse to grab your attention. Call him possessive for no good reason, but something inside him bubbles with envy whenever your other housemates even leave a lingering stare.

Although he’s not the type to be vocal about it, his facial expressions speak volumes. May it be his competitive nature, but he can’t let the others have you. You have unknowingly become off-limits to the rest, but frankly, you don’t care all too much. Your prize is already in front of you.

“Are you going to kiss me or do I have to wait all night again?” With every will, you try your best to control the nervous tremble in your bold rhetorical question.

Jaehyun wastes no more time; soft lips crash into your own and you feel like you’re floating. Only he can make you feel this way. Hands in hair, the tug on his fresh locks has him moaning through the kiss. Jaehyun loses himself in you, rubbing his semi-hard cock against your thigh and gripping your ass harshly in his hand.

Every drip of saliva is swapped in the mess of your connected mouths and you’re reminded of how rough this man enjoys to be. Your knees buckle at the thought of him and Jaehyun is quick to hold you up, placing you strategically at the end of your bed.

Pulling away, he stands in front of you with the largest dick print against his sweatpants, along with a small wet spot. There are no bashful words exchanged as the room is filled with heavy breathing and sultry looks. Jaehyun guides your hand to his waistband, silently waiting for you to free him.

Looking up at your beautiful boy, the neediness of release almost ruins his perfect charming look. Hair is tousled wildly across his eyes and his bottom lip escapes underneath the top row of his pearly teeth. He just looks so fucked out already, you can’t imagine how much he was holding back earlier.

You pull down enough of his pants for his dick to spring up right in front of you, not expecting the lack of underwear. Your small gasp cause him to chuckle, pushing the back of your head forward toward his hard cock. “Surprised?”

“You weren’t wearing underwear the entire night?” You question him as your hands cup his balls. A sharp intake of breath is his only response before he can compose himself.

Through gritted teeth, Jaehyun stutters, “Like you were?” He throws his head back when your warm tongue flicks against his throbbing red tip. Every vein in his arm and neck pops on display as he grabs a hold of your hair.

“You wouldn’t know.” You snicker, running your tongue up and down his shaft. Jaehyun looks back down at your piercing eyes and his dick right above your cheek.

A smirk grows devilishly, “I’m about to find out.” Pushing your shoulder back gently, your back lands comfortably on the mattress. Your heart is racing as Jaehyun gets down on his knees, situating himself in between your open legs.

“May I?” He asks, warm hands on your inner thighs as he patiently waits for your answer.

“Yes.” Jaehyun pulls your shorts down to reveal your favorite comfort cotton panties that have faded from their original color. Naturally, you grow embarrassed and quickly slap your legs closed before Jaehyun can process.

He blinks at you questionably, quite taken aback by the abrupt motion. “Are you okay?”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t completely expecting to sleep with anyone tonight. I’m not quite prepared down there.” Your gaze drops and you anxiously fist your sheets in your sweaty hands.

Jaehyun nods, understanding your implications. “I don’t care about those things. You are…” landing a quick peck on your bare knee, he rubs reassuring circles with his thumb. “.... the prettiest baby ever. And if you’d let me, buttercup, I want to make you feel good.”

He has always been suave with his words, as if he knows the handbook to get butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Slowly, your legs open back up before him and the slightest groan rumbles from his throat.

The wet patch on your panties is hard to ignore and he’s mesmerized, to say the least. He peels down your underwear and uses his thumb to spread your lips. Leaning forward, Jaehyun lightly licks at your erect clit and your twitch in response is enough to feed into his ego.

He dives hungrily, eating you out until your eyes roll to the back of your head and your back is arching off of the bed. He flattens his tongue against you, pushing in and out of your dripping hole in a rhythmic motion. His nose is deep in your skin, intoxicated by your arousal, and his eyes are drinking up your uncontrollable reactions.

It’s as if electricity shocks through your lower half. The pleasure that comes with every lick and sweet suckle has you panting for more. His name echoes from your tender lips while Jaehyun inserts two fingers to stretch you out. The initial ache subsides into an indescribable pleasure; it’s the feeling of being full of anything mixing with the sensitivity of tongue against clit that has you practically on the verge of release.

Jaehyun isn’t going to give it to you that easily. The moment your moans grow bolder, your legs begin to shake, your hand putting a little more pressure on his head, he pulls away and gets up. A desperate sigh crushes your chest as the build up leads to dissatisfaction. Jaehyun wipes his chin with the back of his hand, his two fingers glistening before being shoved into your own mouth.

“That’s my good girl, give yourself a taste.” His hot words cause you to flood a bit more, the feeling of wetness pooling at your core. However, you two toy each other with no end as he is provoked by the way your tongue sensually swirls around his digits and how your hips keep squirming closer to the edge. “How badly do you want to get fucked?”

His firm hand holds your moving hips into the bed and you’re aching to be filled with his dick. He’s so hard that it slaps against his abdomen, red tip and spewing precum. Nonetheless, his self restraint is quite strong as he notices the defeat in your expression. Enough teasing, your body wants him endlessly.

“Jaehyun, I want you to give me all that you got.” At the end of your request, he enters you slowly with a breathy moan. The stretch is much more than his two fingers, causing you to squirm and wiggle. Inch by inch, Jaehyun fills you to your brim and pauses for you to adjust to his size.

“Fuck, it’s been awhile since we’ve slept together. I almost forgot how tight you are.” How could this man possibly smile with so much innocence while saying such foul things? The next action causes you to go a bit dizzy as he spits down at your clit and rubs it lovingly with his thumb. You practically see stars on your mundane ceiling.

He starts moving his hips, deep long thrusts pulling out to only sharply fill you up again. Jaehyun is relentless as every thrust forward has you moving more and more up the bed. Your legs are pressed against your chest, folding you over to hit your sweet spot. When his tip grazes upon the greatest feeling ever, your grip on the sheets grows tighter and he’s smirking at how your mouth hangs open in pure ecstasy and shock.

“You’re so good at taking my cock.” He pants, moving faster than before. “My baby hasn’t been fucked properly in a while, has she?”

You’re at a loss for words at every drag and push. Regardless of you wanting to speak, no words seem to make its way out. Jaehyun narrows his eyes at you, dark grin and a menacing taunt in his low voice. A chuckle begins his sentence, “I know… it’s hard to talk when you feel so good right, buttercup? I can feel you getting more excited down there.”

Placing your legs around his waist, he leans down over you. His sneaky hand travels up your torso, giving your boobs a light squeeze through your shirt. Then, he wraps his hand around your neck gently and carefully, only applying enough pressure to drive you wild.

He breaks his rhythm, reverting back to the previous slow pace. Something about the way you feel around him, hot and tight, needy and wet. Jaehyun just loves how your body reacts.

The feeling of soreness occupies your lower half and you’re more than certain it’s going to be rough tomorrow morning. Every thrust is agonizing, yet powerful enough to be felt in your guts. Jaehyun never fails to leave an impression.

Through your moans, you manage to stutter out his name. “Please, harder.” Jaehyun picks you up, hands supporting your butt and pressing your back against your door. Placing your legs down, you’re standing up right facing him with a confused expression at the change of location.

For a brief moment, his lustful glare is warm and friendly. It’s the same look that greets you in the car when he drives you two to campus. It’s the one he often looks at you with across the dinner table, usually accompanied with his robust laughter. Jaehyun looks at you as if he’s only ever seen you.

However, his next words are far from romantic and his hand finds its way to your throat, pinning you up against the cold door. “I want them to hear how good I fuck you.” Them. The rest of your housemates. Knowing that the house is far from soundproof, Jaehyun wants everyone to know how enthusiastic he makes you feel.

“But--” As you begin to protest, he drives his hips up and nestles into you. His free hand grips your waist steadily as he barely pulls out, fucking you deeper until you feel him at the pit of your stomach. There is no ability to hold back your pleasure, moans just naturally fill the room and bounce off every wall.

“Cum for me, I know you’re close.” Jaehyun has no intentions to stop, the feeling of both releases being at the tip of your tongues. “Be the good girl that you are and cum for me.”

The small bubble inside of you is ready to burst. Jaehyun sucks on his fingers to coat them with saliva and reaches down to stroke at your clit. Like a switch, your internal light bulb explodes and every spark of electricity fuels your every vein.

Your orgasm electrifies you, causing every limb to shake uncontrollably and sporadically. Jaehyun keeps thrusting up, helping you ride out the intensity of your high.

“There you go, baby.” A small kiss on your shoulder, he pulls out and the emptiness is felt immediately. Getting on your knees, you take his cock in your mouth to help him finish. He rests his fists on the door, hovering over you as his abs flex beautifully under the fluorescent light. Hollowing out your cheeks, your throat invites him deeper and this causes him to mindlessly thrust into your mouth.

Jaehyun sounds breathy above you, whining about how close he is to cumming. Silence in the room has been replaced with his heavy pants and soft groans, the sound of suckling and slick saliva droning out anything else.

“Fuck, y/n.” He says, as he holds your cheek in his palm and maintains eye contact with you through his brown locks. The view of his dick being swallowed up in your mouth is more than enough to drive him to his edge, strings of cum coating the back of your throat from his release. The saltiness immediately hits your palette.

Jaehyun tosses his head back until the satisfaction dissipates. Slowly pulling himself out, he moves quickly to find you a tissue. For a moment, neither one of you speak as he silently dresses himself and you wipe the remaining spit off of your lips.

He helps you up from the floor, lightly dusting off your bare knees for you. And he says something to break the slightly awkward atmosphere, “are you kicking me out like you do with the rest of your hookups?” Jaehyun laughs, wide smile and dimples deep in his soft cheeks. The glow in his skin radiates in the dimness, he’s a sight that’s too difficult to look away from.

“Did you want to stay?” Tossing on a pair of fresh underwear and pajama shorts, you have a vague memory of Jaehyun holding you after your first fuck together.

Though Jaehyun is your friend before anything else, he responds like every other hookup unsure about the next steps. He shrugs, turning around and tapping his back for you to hop on. “I’ll take you to the bathroom to wash up.”

Jumping on his back and wrapping your arms around his neck, he carries you down the hall to the shared bathroom. “You didn’t exactly answer my question.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, knowing how embarrassed you are going to be the next morning when facing the rest of your housemates.

“I know you’re just going to come into my room anyways, right?” He sets you down and the door to the bathroom swings open to reveal an equally surprised Haechan.

“Shit, you two scared me.” The dramatic boy rests a hand on his chest to calm his startled heart. “You might want to air out the bathroom before doing anything in there.” Jaehyun and Haechan share a laugh as you groan, irritated by the putrid fumes that cursed the poorly ventilated bathroom.

“You’re so gross.” You say, punching Haechan jokingly on the arm.

“Says you.” Haechan pauses to poke at Jaehyun’s bare chest, “and you. We are never playing Truth or Dare ever again.”

“Don’t hate the players, hate the game bro.” Jaehyun snickers.

Haechan pays no more attention to the two of you, back turned and hurrying into his dark room. “I do hate the game now!” He yells in a whisper, shutting his door to end the conversation. You sigh out of relief that Haechan didn’t press for more details or jokes.

Housemates, you never know what adventures you’d run into with them. Nonetheless, you don’t mind and getting to see a shirtless Jaehyun parade around the house is always a treat.

#neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #kpopscape #nct-writers #neothestars #nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #nct #jung jaehyun #jaehyun scenario #housemating

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chanfictions · 3 years

Text

Shadow Clones

Part 1 - Chidori

Kakashi x Reader

Here by popular request is the sequel to Chidori.

18+ Content! Minors, DNI!

All of the fun you might imagine one would have in the bedroom with shadow clones. No spoilers this time 🙃.

"Let's play a little game. Can you figure out which of us is the real one?"

3.1k

With a yawning sigh, you stretched exaggeratedly, popping your tired back in a few places as you meandered down the hallway leading to your favorite person's apartment. After a long week of back to back missions, you were ready for some leisurely downtime and some much needed stress relief. Prior to your last mission, you had made plans to have dinner with Kakashi at his place tonight. He sounded quite excited about the idea and went on about how he was going to whip up something very special for you. Despite your best attempts at twisting the information out of him with your sexiest interrogation methods, he remained tight-lipped about it, only smirking from behind that damn mask with a coy hint of, "It's a surprise."

You finally reached his door with a wide grin spreading across your face as you flipped his key into your hand and let yourself in. Tucking the little ninja-hound keychain away in your pocket, you pulled the door shut behind you with a solid click. "Kakashi? I'm back!" You called out into the seemingly empty apartment. Confusion washed over you, as there was no delightful scent of dinner brewing in the kitchen, nor was there any sign that he was even home. Wondering if he had been sent on a last minute mission, you kicked off your shoes at the door and took a peek around the eerily quiet apartment. Your heart dropped for a moment, thinking that maybe he just forgot.

As you peered around the frame of the hallway, you yelped in surprise as a pair of arms coiled around your waist, and a familiar voice hummed in your ear, and familiar lips planted a kiss on your temple. "Hi, kitten."

Squeaking still from the shock of being startled, you whirled around and gave him a playful thump to the chest with a half closed fist as a laugh bubbled from your mouth. "Damnit, Kakashi! One of these days you're going to sneak up on me when I'm tired and you're going to end up stabbed."

He smirked down at you, taking hold of your wrist and giving your knuckles a light kiss. "It's cute that you think you're faster than I am," he teased.

"It's cute that you think I'm so delicate that I couldn't take you in a fight," you taunted back playfully, sticking your tongue out at him.

"Are you sure about that?" Kakashi’s voice chirped from behind you, breath fanning your neck as he placed a kiss just below your jaw.

For half a second, you let out a happy little sigh and melted into the touch. He knew what a sucker you were for that. Then your eyes snapped open, staring up at the far-too-smug-looking Kakashi in front of you. Your overly tired brain entirely malfunctioned. That was impossible, because he was behind you. Who was behind you?? With a high squeak, you spun around again, your back pressing firmly against Kakashi’s chest as you jumped back in surprise. It was still Kakashi’s smug mug staring back at you.

"Hi, kitten," the second said with a cool smirk.

Your eyes widened as it dawned on you that your drunken conversation with Jiraiya was about to come back and bite you for a second time. Oh, shit. He didn't forget about that. After your Chidori-fueled night of fun last week, Kakashi hadn't brought up your steamy little comment to that raunchy old smut machine regarding what else could be done with shadow clones outside the field of battle.

The Kakashi behind you curled his arms around your waist, leaning down to nibble at your neck just as the other one had. "Something the matter?" His inquiry floated so casually into your ear as those lips left nips and bites along your neck.

Caught between a nervous squeak and a moan, your brain was struggling to process that he was both kissing and staring smugly at you right now. "Uh, babe? You know I'm not a sensory type," you bit your lip to contain a breathy gasp as the one behind you ran a hand up your torso.

"Your point?" The one in front of you stepped forward, tipping your chin up to kiss you with the same lips you felt on your neck.

Your cheeks burned with a rush of heat over the embarrassing confusion surrounding your current predicament. A fluttering sensation replaced your heart beat, and a needy heat began to soak your panties. This was insane. "I, um, c-caan't -- teh-heelll which of y-you is the clone," you stammered weakly as the one in front of you grazed your inner thigh with his fingers. Hands were everywhere. It was a struggle to discern who they were attached to without looking. From what you could tell, the one kissing your neck slid warm palms up into your shirt while the other casually popped a button on the front of your pants.

"Let's play a little game, then. If you can figure out which of us is the real one, we'll give you a prize," he murmured from behind you as his rough palms slid under your bra.

"--but, there's a little catch. You see, if you can't figure it out, well, we're just going to have to punish you. That shouldn't be a problem, though. Surely a skilled shinobi like you can figure out who your boyfriend is, right?" The one standing in front of you grasped your chin softly, pointing your flushed gaze up at the tilted lips and coolly amused eyes staring back at you.

He planned this, that foxy jerk. You swallowed hard as a confused wave of arousal crashed over your body. Being the center of a Kakashi sandwich left you struggling to gather the words tangled upon your tongue. Your clothes were falling off at an alarming rate and you found yourself slowly being walked into his bedroom between the two of them. As the one behind you left you gasping with playful pulls and pinches of your nipples, the other was making swift work of the various fasteners on your clothes. "Mmm, define… punish," you breathed, biting your lip while running your hands up the solid chest in front of you, nearly losing your train of thought as a hand slid up your thigh, teasing you through your soaked panties. You felt someone's arousal pressing firmly against your ass. They were both solid. Figuring out who was who seemed impossible.

"Hmmm… maybe we won't tell you and that can be a surprise as well," the one in front of you mused, ghosting your throbbing clit through fabric.

"Who knows? It might end up being fun," the other teased, leaving hot kisses along your jaw.

A needy whine escaped your parted lips as you arched your hips into the hand teasing you through that silky material while working on undressing the Kakashi in front of you, tossing things aside as you went. Their combined efforts left you extremely distracted. Two identical pairs of hands roamed your body, caressing every inch of your skin. A little moan hissed through your teeth as one left biting brands on your neck and kneaded your breasts while the other swallowed your breathy sounds in hungry kisses while teasing you mercilessly through your silk panties, leaving your body pulsing with a lusty ache. Their respective arousals jabbed into either side of you, leaving you wiggling your hips suggestively against them to get them to elicit echoing groans. Hearing Kakashi hum in stereo like that was oddly satisfying.

You squeaked in surprise when you suddenly found yourself falling backwards, as the Kakashi behind you had maneuvered you towards the bed while they distracted you with the panty soaking flurry of hands covering your body. Still with that smug smirk plastered to his face, the one in front of you made swift work of the last article of clothing you had left. Shirts flew casually across the room, and you were flipped over to face one of the two smug, foxy bastards. Biting your lip, you slid one hand up his chest while unbuttoning his pants with the other, giving your hips a playful waggle at the Kakashi that was still on his feet.

A chuckle hummed behind you as that Kakashi shed the last of his clothes, pressing a palm on your lower back and sliding fingers through your slick folds. "Did you want something, kitten?" He inquired coolly, a smile curling at the corner of his lips.

A flush crept across your cheeks as the arousal in front of you sprung free from its cloth confines, in disbelief that you were doing something like this. "I--"

He didn't give you a chance to fully answer that and just slid two fingers into your soaking core, leaving you gasping and grinding yourself into his touch while his counterpart took a fistful of your hair, taking control of your head. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Your back arched, and you mewled as the fingers working your throbbing clit brought you ever closer to the edge. The hot knot of light in your core intensified, stealing your ability to concentrate enough to form words. "Nnnnn," you buzzed, trying to collect yourself and failing miserably.

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that," the voice behind you hummed, now masterfully strumming your clit to a beat that left you gasping for air, stealing your words from you. The only sound you could produce was a quivering whine as his skillful fingertips let up enough just in time to leave you hanging.

With a pathetic whimper, you rolled your hips back into him. "Nnneed more data," you choked out, licking your lips while wrapping your hand around the delicious cock staring you in the face. You swirled your tongue around the tip. Even the taste was real.

They chuckled in unison before delving into your eager body - from behind, sliding achingly slowly into your throbbing core, stretching your walls around a delicious girth, and from the front, pressing your hungry lips down around the meaty arousal that had been twitching in wait by the grip one had on your hair. You groaned loudly around the thickness competing for space in your throat with air as he simultaneously rutted into you from behind. A chorus of contented sounds chimed from all three of you. "Come on, kitten. Surely you have a guess by now," the one behind you murmured huskily as the sound of chirping birds began to echo through the room.

You squealed around the obstruction in your mouth, struggling against the hand pressing your head down as little bolts of lightning struck in thousands of hot, tiny points around your clit, putting a wild arch in your back. You fell down on one elbow, letting out a cry of ecstasy as the surprise onslaught hurled you into oblivion. Your walls clenched and fluttered around the nigh perfect cock railing you from behind. Choking and sputtering, the hand in your hair pulled you up with a lewd pop as the wails of a soul crushing orgasm rang from your chest. A thumb smeared drool across your cheek with quiet laughter vibrating through his body into yours. "Well?"

"Fuuu-huuuck, K-kakaaa-haashiiii!" All you could do was let loose your pleasure-drunk cry into the ceiling as your legs trembled uncontrollably under the electric ministrations that set every nerve in your body ablaze. Muscles contracted involuntarily, leaving you strangling the cock stuffing your soaked pussy with an impossibly tight grip. With a guttural groan, the one behind you dug fingers into your hips roughly, fucking you hard through your unintelligible screaming before abruptly sliding out of you to ease you forward into the waiting grasp of his double like a twisted game of hot potato. You were impaled again, this time by the one beneath you who stifled your surprised moan by pressing your face into his neck. You gasped and stammered at the army of hands moving across your body, still fluttering wildly from that first charged orgasm.

"Do you remember exactly what you told Jiraiya the night you spilled all of your dirty little secrets?" One of them whispered in your ear, though it was difficult to discern the source over your panting.

"Oh, fuck," you whined into the solid chest below you. Of course, you remembered what you told that pervy traitor.

"Say it," they goaded, hands exploring every inch of you while never ceasing the pounding that was sending you into orbit.

You mewled softly, biting your lip to stifle your embarrassment. Heat flushed your cheeks and melded with the broiling sweat that began to slick your body. You wanted to feel both of them inside of your little vice of a pussy. That's what they wanted to hear. They wanted you to tell them that you loved his cock so much that you wanted to be stuffed with it twice. Your face flamed as you struggled to arrange a sentence in your head, but the little tag team duo was making that task incredibly difficult. Hands climbed your front and back, grasping your ass and tangling in your hair. Mouths on your neck, their breathing echoed in surround sound. The cock buried within you left you hungry for more, though you could hardly wrap your preoccupied mind around the logistics. "Please," you breathed against his neck, grinding your hips against his. "I… I want you both -- n-need you both," you whimpered pathetically.

The movements slowed to a halt, leaving you aching for friction as a quiet complaint breezed from your lips. "Such a good girl for us," a voice hummed from behind as you felt another tip sliding through your folds, teasing your already stuffed pussy. The skin strained against the second dribbling tip that was slowly making room for itself as you let out a pained little cry into the solid chest below you. They crooned to and praised you in unison as the second cock slowly worked its way into you. A rush of comforting hands moved across your neck, cradling and kissing your face. Another warm body pressed against you from behind. The beating of their hearts through their chests almost seemed synchronized as the second fully sheathed himself, leaving you moaning and clawing at the chest beneath you, overwhelmed and speechless at the absolute feeling of fullness that was the center of your existence.

"Please," you begged desperately, rolling your hips and hissing a lewd groan into their ears, nipping and biting the shoulder below you, urging them into action. A hand from behind you smothered your own, lacing his fingers around yours as the roller coaster ride of your life began that left you screaming into the abyss.

Two cocks. Two Kakashis. You could barely handle one of him. Seeing double left you drunk on your own cries of ecstasy as they pounded your sopping pussy, threatening to make the bed punch holes in the wall behind the headboard, leaving the frame groaning in protest under the songs of your wails. Your ears rang as the world around you vanished, leaving just you with your game of Guess Who: Kakashi Edition. You had all but thrown that idea out the window as you were now convinced that there had been two of him all along and this was just an elaborate setup. Teeth gnashing, you tangled your fingers into tufts of thick, silver hair as your body shuddered in time with their thrusts. A heat unlike you had ever felt before mounted rapidly in your core, leaving your jaw trembling and toes curling as a raspy hellcry readied itself in your chest. Your walls clenched almost painfully around the pair of cocks fucking the sense out of you. Your clit throbbed. Your thighs ached. That boiling heat built until you unleashed a banshee wail that had to be stifled by one of the four hands climbing your body to spare the neighborhood of the details. You creamed on their cocks, soaking them in your essence as your eyes rolled back into your head, as if your soul just left your body.

"Fuck--" they growled in unison, their grips on your sweat-soaked body tightening as your wrecked little pussy pulsed around them in intense waves. One stifled the chaotic sounds of your release, pressing your face into the neck of his counterpart.

Overstimulated and gasping for air, your hips bucked between them, almost unable to handle the onslaught of pleasure tearing you apart. Your face tingled as every muscle in your body contracted in sync with their motion, leaving you breathless and teetering on the edge of passing out. The sounds of their groaning and hissing your name in stereo filled your head. Lips and teeth grazed your neck as the frenzied pace quickened. You were deaf to the sounds of your own screaming as you flew off into space with them. Two final, wild thrusts tossed your body about like you were nothing but a doll. The moaning cry of overwhelming pleasure that escaped your throat came in unison with the intense heat that filled you as they delved into you to a seemingly impossible depth and painted your insides white.

Time slowed as you struggled to make sense of what your name even was as they rolled to the side with you, murmuring soft hums of praise as they slid carefully from your spent pussy and their collective essence seeped from you. Arms encircled you from both sides, pressing your incredible fatigued body between theirs in a mirrored tangle of limbs as you fought to catch your breath. The panting devolved into little bouts of giggling as you nestled yourself firmly into the delightful embrace of your Kakashi sandwich.

"Well?" They hummed in unison, smirking at you while brushing sweaty hair from your face and rubbing soothing lines up your arms.

"I have noooo idea," you giggled in tired defeat, rolling back slightly to gaze between their mirrored, amused expressions.

A voice from the door cut through the sounds of your panting and giggling gasps of fatigue. "Hi, kitten."

You squeaked in surprise, sitting up abruptly from in between the pair lounging smugly on either side of you. "B-babe?"

With a sly smirk, he unfolded his arms and strode into the room. "So, you started without me, I see."

Your eyes widened and your voice rapidly climbed into a shrill new register. "S-started?" You stammered, eyes rapidly darting between the three of them.

Chuckling in that soft, cool tone, his eyes locked onto yours as he casually unbuttoned his shirt and walked toward you. "That is what I said. You still haven't figured out which of us is the real one, am I correct?"

With wide eyes and another squeaky whine, you swallowed hard and bit your lip in excitement.

You were in for a long night.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #naruto x reader #naruto smut #kakashi x you #chanfictions #naruto imagines

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kaitsawamura · 3 years

Text

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮ Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮ Rating: M (for mature) ⎮ WC: 5525 ⎮ Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader ⎮ Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint) ⎮ AO3

NOTES⎮ Thanks to @spacelabrathor for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome for fueling my Kiri fever dreams. Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp. Hope y'all enjoy! (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar. But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it. They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself. Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer. You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet. He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally… and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time. It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it. Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people. You’d have the whole place to yourselves. Like that should mean something. Which it did. It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach. Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago. Neither of you had made a move. Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with. It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on. But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency. The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye. Not for the obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse.

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk. But he was just like that you had quickly discovered. He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch. He knew when to push and when to back off. He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn. The kids flocked to him. Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him. It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts. The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there? You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly. It isn’t big. You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses. Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous. But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time. Clean, straight lines and lots of windows. In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door. Is that a pool ? Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro. The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth. You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out! I mean, that would have been fine, of course. I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.” He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool. “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!” You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym. I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely. You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here. The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves. But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins. You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago. And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs. No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side. Shit. His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. He has to know . Doesn’t he? From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive. Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard. You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping. It’s so green . There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna. Violets, tulips. Huge hosta plants. And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!” He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it? I guess it is pretty nice, huh?” You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile. You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.” You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “What are you thinking for today?” The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat. You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?” You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan. The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips. He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick. You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet. He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display. Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri. I just don’t want to wear you out . You’re a Pro Hero. You’re on the job a lot more than I am. Plus, you’re getting kind of old. Is that a little gray I see coming in?” Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted. Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.” Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip. His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment. You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity. He looks as if he’s going to devour you. You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body. A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up. The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin. The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen. You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat. The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym. You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment. When you could give extra attention with extra time.

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you. You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk. Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit. Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist. It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk. Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk. It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills. The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy. You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well. You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven. His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice. You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out. It surges through you like pure energy.

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook. This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt. Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet. He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?” He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach. You were fast, but still not always fast enough. You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in. Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top. You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard. You good?”

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable. He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late. You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today. Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back. But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core. He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours. You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before… “Fuuu-.” It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open. You’re seeing stars. Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again. You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun. You snort, rolling your eyes. Why does he still look so fucking good? The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl. His hair has curl to it? You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes. You like the curl. “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?” It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms. “I’m thinking not. Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.” You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows. Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.

“Is that any way to treat your student, Red Riot?” You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll. He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space. You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher. I’m not that much older than you. Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?” He’s so fucking close. This is getting dangerous. Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance. Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass. Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.

So you fall back on what you’re here to do. Fight. You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away. His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared. He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay. I see. I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?” You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri. Bring it on.” He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control. “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles. Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more. Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply. And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon. But you’re also both stubborn. And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination. No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration. The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not. You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head. You can be too predictable sometimes.” He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire. You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless. You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc. A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle. He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming. But he doesn’t. And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward. He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand. You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck. Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body. It doesn’t take long for him to tap out. You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off. Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride. You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad. In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good . He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you. His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere. He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes. If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you. He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable. You did good today. Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far. Keep it up.” He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts. He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment. “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--” The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his. His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more. Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment. A suspended second in time. But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side. But it’s warm and gentle. Gentle. Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle? But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations. His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit. You’re so wet .” He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit. He takes his hand away and you mewl. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts. You nod, eyes half-lidded. He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious. Adoration. It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt. You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it. Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm. You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat. He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to. He’s done this before, he’s had to. He’s too good. Too fucking good. Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth. “Shit. Shit. Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--” He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym. It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue. But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock. You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum. Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them. Another time, maybe.

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing . He could snap you like a twig. But he won’t. You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…” You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders. You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled. You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much. His forehead drops to yours as he pants. But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to. It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins. You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss. “Oh fuck, ohfuck.” You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing. “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper. Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity. Let him leave marks. Let him leave them everywhere. He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling. “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.” His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good. S’ tight. Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym. The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip. He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes. Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ” He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct. He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point. “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream. Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic. The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath. “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins. His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt. He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole. Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours. Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before. You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri. Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression. Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed. He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex. But you’re smiling. Lazy and tired, completely at ease. “Wanna take a shower?” When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest. He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra. Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now. When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again. His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss. But it's slow and sweet.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers. He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water. Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now. The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep. But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in. When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel. “You okay?” He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired. I should, uh, probably get going.” Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line. Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail. But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug. A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest. His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice. You bury your face further in as you nod against him. Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed. He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him. Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you. The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket. It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake. You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist. His eyes are open now and he watches you. You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time. I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t… I don’t really hook up .” Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across. He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful. And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along. You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “I just. I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And normally I would have wined and dined you first but... Well. Here we are. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Is something funny?” That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri. I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.” A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection. The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijirou #pro hero kirishima #red riot #kirishima smut #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaitsuki writes #oh my god i had such brain block #writing this one #because i get too in my head writing smut #BUT i hope everyone still enjoys #we stan kiri in this house

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