#prism.nsfw

[bearseungmin]

[ rub me the right way. ] — you make a quiet wish for your sex life to be more out of the box, unaware than chan -- intrigued and listening, can grant that very request.

rating: mature! pairing: genie! chan x gender-neutral! reader genre: genie! au, smut, supernatural word count: 1.3k [warnings]: mature content, sexual content, unprotected intercourse, sex with a stranger, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, size kink, penetration, doggy-style, choking, creampie A/N: title proudly given to me by the legend @ohmysparkle​ please go give her some love she’s really funny and hot and a brilliant writer ok enjoy do not interact with this if you are under 18.

— kinktober 2021 masterlist

"What's it like to cum more than once?"

His eyes had found you, pupils following your walking form as you clutched your fingers into your palm.

"How does everyone manage to sleep with someone and not have strings pulling them back to each other?"

The sunset found his form, shadow on the ground standing and walking along his own path. Light finding where his outfit shined, it only gave himself away in the way he wanted.

"Where can I find someone to fuck my brains out?"

You had only seen him for a split second, but the reflected lights off the golden chains of his jeans were still in your sight as you walked. Speckles, like small beams of light moving and following you, it was too obvious.

"What are the odds that you met me?"

Cocky, the attractive man closed the gap between you. He was noticeable, too pleasing to the eye as his boots stepped in your direction. For what you knew, the man had come from thin air considering the road you walked on was uninhabited by anyone except yourself just moments ago.

"What's that mean?" Your question lingered in the air for a shorter amount of time than the smirk on his lips.

"Care to find out?"

Your back was against the cool wall in a matter of minutes, the display of curiosity only making your nerves spike. A stranger, no strings, and a seemingly perfect concept.

"Name's Chan, and you get three wishes from me." The man sparkled in the sunlight, too. Bright eyes, short locks moving in the gentle wind, and glistening sparkles floating from the tips of his fingers like a magic show.

The genie knew to choose what he liked, to pester his own interests, and to critique until he would enjoy himself while granting wishes for others.

And enjoyment was taking your wrist, pressing it against the wall and holding it above your head. His luscious lips felt smooth, his breath minty, and his natural scent thick in your nose. Chan's own breathing stuttered at the feeling of your skin—at every inch he lifted your shirt higher—and held it inside his lungs for as long as he could when you paused the kiss to pull it over and off of you.

"Three." He reminded you of what he could give, the man smirking into the reconnecting kiss as your fingers trailed across his broad shoulders.

"Isn't fucking considered one of them?"

He chose you, allowed you to see him.

"Concurrence. This is out of my own implementation."

You breathed out heavily, his hand finally releasing the tight grip on your wrist as he pulled you in the direction towards your bed like he knew the place.

"Make one." His tone was like a growl, the light pressure of a push placing your back onto the soft mattress of your bed. "Only one for now."

"Kiss me."

His brows creased, unbelieving the request. The sparkles of his fingertips swirled, your lips suddenly smudged by his own. Hot tongue lapping against yours, feverish motions, and a string of saliva connected your mouths until he pulled back.

"What an impish wish." He sighed, blinking down at you as his arms tightened and held himself up above you.

"What would you wish for at this moment?" Your voice was gentle, legitimate. And not at all ready for his response.

The sparkles flew around his fingers for a split second before you noticed the remaining clothing on your forms were gone, folded neatly on the table beside your bed. Your eyes followed him, his naked form almost more glorious than the being, himself.

His hand wrapped around his own length, placing the tip of his cock against you while creating circles. A hushed breath from you made him smirk, his eyes peering between the contorted features of your face and his length creating patterns against you. In a single motion, your wetness added to by his saliva spit into his palm and spilt around his cock, he dipped into you for a moment. One small thrust to listen to you grunt, another to go in halfway, and a third to be inside of you to the hilt.

You shivered, noises flying from your mouth as you pressed your flush face into the crook of his neck. Fullness, the man reaching your end so easily, and you were cumming from the penetration alone.

"I would wish to be like this with you, now." His voice was dark in your ear, your fingers clenching at the covers of your bed for support.

He only sat still, his lips pressing into your neck to give you time to adjust to his size. Much larger than natural, the man—Chan was more than expectations could make of him.

"One wish left." He hummed, huffing as his cock twitched within your tight walls.

"O-One?" You winced at the number, a remaining wish to get what you want before your "no-strings-attached" principal would leave you for good.

"Your request for me to make a wish was considered a wish by you." He laughed softly, the padding of his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip as he awaited the last wish to fall from above it.

"Finish me off as hard as you want to."

Your words were like fire to his loins. Chan hummed in response, your body turned and forced deeper into the mesh of the mattress by his weight as you moaned. Still deep within you, the wetness helped him spin inside of you until you were fully turned over, the motion enough to send you close to the edge again.

"So easy, this one." His words were halted by his teeth biting at his lips, focus in his eyes from your short glimpse back at him over your shoulder. A hard hand pushed at your skull, turning your face back to the bed and pressing it into the softness of your covers. "So easy—" He pulled from you, every inch leaving you feeling like a thrust in itself from his girth. "—to fuck you senseless."

Your words, returned to you.

"I'm gonna—" You winced at his head pressing at your entrance, twitched and twisted at the sudden emptiness still forcing you to cum. "—Chan!"

Your body gave itself an orgasm from the memory of his cock being in you seconds before, the sounds of slick liquid squelching in the room as he refilled you to the brim once more.

"To make you cum more than once." He growled, pulling and pounding into you in the same pace of each word. "How has no one done this to you before? Hmm?"

"P-Please!—make me, again?" Throat dry, tears falling from your ducts, and his hand enclosing on your throat. The smallest amount of pressure applied to the sides, a short cut from your oxygen supply, and his words were what finally broke the hardest orgasm you have had before.

"So easy—" He grunted, body tightening as he only fucked you rougher. "—to use you to make me cum, too."

His release filled you up almost as much as his cock, pulling from you as he sighed and fell to your side. Chest heaving, body bright and shining with sweat, Chan appeared just as fucked-out as you.

"You stole my second wish." A whine, you turned to face him as your body pulsed from the aftershocks of the multiple orgasms. "I want it back."

He had taken your outward thoughts and used them against you to please you, and oddly himself at the same time.

"If I gave it back to you—" His eyes were half-lidded, a soft smile worn on his face. "What would you wish?"

"That we could do this again."

He said nothing, the golden sparkles around his fingers saying all that needed to be said.

"Wish granted."

© copyright bearseungmin 2021. all rights are reserved. do not modify, repost, or translate without my permission. please.

#straykidsland #prism.nsfw #fkp-net #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #christopher bang smut #mature #drabble: rub me the right way #tw overstimulation #tw choking #bearseungmin.kinktober.2021 #bearseungmin.drabbles

[bearseungmin]

[ heard but unseen. ] — hyunjin wonders what use a mirror is to his vampire form until he gets you before it and sees the delectable synopsis that could fulfill his craving.

rating: mature! pairing: vampire! hyunjin x human! gender-neutral! reader genre: smut, supernatural word count: 1.2k [warnings]: mature content, sexual content, sensory deprivation, mirror kink, hair-pulling, mentions of masturbation, drooling, unsafe sex, creampie A/N: this idea came to me from the joke “how many vampires do you think have been backed over because they couldn’t be seen in the rear-view mirrors?” enjoy! do not interact with this if you are under 18.

— kinktober 2021 masterlist

An aggrivational expression on his face, Hyunjin's forehead had never been so tense. The man had wandered up and down the halls of his home for weeks, awaiting the moonlight to seep through the thin cracks of the thick curtains to come and find you.

But it was you that found him first, his long form stood still with his index finger rubbing across his plump, bottom lip.

"You seem bothered." Your voice didn't cater to his lost but focused state, his brow only lifting in response.

"I've never made use of this mirror." He chimed, opposite hand finding your shoulder to pull you into his side.

The golden-framed piece was too large to set on furniture, too heavy and timid. It was meant to be drilled into its original vanity, one that had been lost long before you even knew Hyunjin's kind existed. It only leaned up against the wall like an art piece created so long ago, dust concealing the top around the designed swirls in the frame.

His perception confused you, eyes finding only your own in the reflection. An undead man had no use of such an object, the smirk forming on his lips completely out of your sight from where you stood.

Head falling against your own, dragging down to your shoulder to press a kiss to your neck, then your cheek, and one lasting peck to your temple.

"Until now."

It was obvious where his mind had disappeared to. Why he had been so drawn to the reflective glass in the golden frame. It wasn't that he could see himself, it was that he could only see you. Like a mosaic painting only he would witness during his walk of the museum.

Your hair moved backward, pressed behind your ear by his long fingers. A new display of skin he searched for, his lips enclosed on the lobe of your ear as he took in a deep breath of your scent.

"Would you care to make use of it with me?" A sharp point of the long canine hardly caught your warm skin before he pulled away, finally taking in your eyes shining back at him.

"What else would I do tonight?" Your response was sarcastic, it only made the corners of his lips thin into a wicked smile.

Usually it was only your breathing reacting to his actions, but as he slipped down to his knees dragging his hands down your form as he went, it was his panting filling the room.

Intimacy was proven each time he roamed your skin, pulled fabric from your limbs. Top over your head, bottoms yanked to the floor to droop around your feet. His tongue wasn't even hot like the natural person, but he still ravished you like a last meal.

Blonde locks floating past his shoulders, threaded through your fingers and gently tugged in tandem with the twirls of his muscle, your moans finally caught up to his heavy breathing.

"Cravings, they do things to the mind." Hyunjin always had a way of explaining himself, even in the midst of his heated display.

When the man fell most hungry, the thickened red liquid undrinkable unless optionless, you were his fix. Hefty pumps or kitten licks closing him in on his next high, his deadened body still able to feel certain feelings in due time.

"Then why are you being so gentle?" Voice like water against his rocks, the man's strong pull at your hips caused you to catch his sight.

Large eyes blown in proportion to your own, lips swelling by the minute, milky skin speckled with youth to mask himself as more human; Hyunjin begged you.

"Allow me to do more then."

And his predominated thought was returned to his mind, muscles tensing with his motions. Hands around your waist as he spun completely, he fell behind you. human senses at their peak from the loss of one—sight—you maneuvered towards the true potential.

No one stood behind you in the reflection, and yet you felt his cold form pressing into your nearly nude body. His fingertips collided with the bands of your underwear, tugging, yanking, kicking them away until they were on the floor inches from you. His lips found the skin of your neck a second time, licking and biting, but never leaving a real mark. Your blood rushed to the exposed spaces, focused in on where he brought pressure, and filled his nose with his second favorite scent of all.

Even in the dark of night, you knew he could find you. Candles lit, dimmed bulbs flickering from age on the walls, and Hyunjin pulling you into his front whilst you both fell to the floor.

Your legs opened wider in the reflection, a single person staring back at you. The skin of your thighs moved with his fingertips, changed colors with his rough hand enveloping the skin to watch it react, and returned to its natural color as he turned his attention elsewhere.

Your lower-half was at the hottest temperature of your entire body, small gestures of his cold breath making you break with goosebumps. He found you, wet from the arousal he gave you and the rushing visual of what he looked like behind you. Two fingers toyed with you, slowly making circles. More wetness, his panting louder than the squelches in your ear, and the hard poke of his cock against your ass.

"If you don't—" You began, smirking to yourself in the mirror because you knew he could see you. "—you'll never see yourself again."

A well-made point to his already stated hypothesis. His hand hardly brushed against his throbbing self before it was tugged from below his button and zipper, placed at your entrance to witness magic at its finest.

Your back curved against him, hole swelled from his tip, and your body took him with a single thrust. Warmed up, pleading and merciless to his craving to release the pressure of hunger in his chest, he saw exactly what he hoped to.

In his perspective, it looked as if you were masturbating with an invisible object. Head thrown back, mouth agape, his name spilling from your lips with a slight bit of drool: he was enjoying this sight more than anything he had seen before, because it was you.

"Look at that." His voice was sing-songy, hand moving into your peripheral as he pointed your own form out in the mirror. "You take me so well."

He could see himself slip out of you, and you could feel him press back in. Eyes heavy from the pleasure, it almost seemed as if he wanted the show to himself now. Hard thrusts paired with heavy thumps of your beating heart against his chest, he smiled harder than he ever had before.

"Almost feels like it's mine again."

You didn't need to see him in the reflection of the history-riddled piece, you could feel his cold cheek closing in on yours. The heat of your body mixed with the intense chill of his brought an exchange of liquids to rush from both of you, hefty breaths and laughter the only sound in the open space.

"Settled?" You asked, voice hoarse but fulfilled.

"Of all the mirrors—" He grinned. "I knew I'd need to keep this one around for a special day like today."

© copyright bearseungmin 2021. all rights are reserved. do not modify, repost, or translate without my permission. please.

#straykidsland #prism.nsfw #fkp-net #skz smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #mature #drabble: heard but unseen #tw sensory deprivation #tw drooling #tw hair pulling #tw mirrors #bearseungmin.kinktober.2021 #bearseungmin.drabbles #bearseungmin.favorites

[bearseungmin]

[ observational. ] — seungmin always had a way of making you fascinated with his mind. but becoming his own, personal test subject lets you see a whole new side to the mad man, himself.

rating: mature! pairing: scientist/doctor! seungmin x human! gender-neutral! reader genre: mad scientist! au, smut, supernatural word count: 2k [warnings]: mature content, sexual content, sensation play, body worshiping, edging, power exchange, "sir" kink, fingering, use of sex toys, use of medical equipment A/N: here’s a 10/10 concept ignited by the wonderful @ohmysparkle​ please go thank her do not interact with this if you are under 18.

— kinktober 2021 masterlist

You had known the day would come. The pages of consent forms, the list of experimental tests, scribbled drawings of the tools that would be used. But it was his face that was the most beguiling to the situation, Seungmin's chin resting between the gouge of his index finger and thumb while he studied your expressions.

The man had degree after degree, trophies from winning contests and competitions; he was considered one of the best doctors and scientists in the country. Charming, full of wit, and smarter than the devil and its tongue. He had everyone so fooled, the disheveled man behind closed doors much more centralized on his real desire for the research. To learn of the human body, what makes it tick and tock. And most importantly, what could make you shiver out an orgasm in the process.

"Tell me something." You admired the way his eyes always blinked at your voice, glazed with extra lubrication to help him stare at you for longer. The ink pen in your hands halted with your voice, a clear depiction of his jaw pressing down on his tongue making you smirk. "How long have you been waiting for me to do this?"

His hands shook, fingers clasping together to hide what was already seen. Dinners, dates, shallow-toned hang-outs to hear about one another's day: people were convinced the two of you were in love. Seungmin always chose you over the others that offered themselves up to science, but you never acknowledged the idea of knowing one another on a personal level.

"The day you walked into my office. Soft eyes, gittery voice, asking too many questions about my work." He leered forward, the smirk plain on his face like an accessory. "Look how far you've come."

His referral was to your assessment, for him to have a meeting that allows you to take in what he studies. Everyone on the campus had some type of crush on the man, he was too engrossing to ignore. Pictures all around, his name on everyone's tongue; the universe was begging for a perfect subject like you to flutter at his feet. For science.

"I don't do any of those things anymore." You collided the ink to the page, the remaining line now marked with your signature to give yourself fully over to the doctor. "We're past the honeymoon stage, Sir."

His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, dry tongue lapping at his bottom lip as his hands rose and collected the pages into a neat pile. He didn't need to look over the contents, skim the personal questions answered in the forms, or even ask you things aloud. Seungmin knew just what you came for, who you worked for, and that you knew what would happen.

"Now then," he stood, his body a tower in the small office connected by a single door-frame to his lab. "Follow me."

The swinging doors engulfed you, structured form standing mighty as you stopped behind him. It was there, the famous examination table. Cold metal paired with less chilly, smooth fabric over the now indented foam inside: the iconic space was now holding you liable for your own decisions. Ice temperature bringing more chills to your skin than the man could, you took in the dim room lit by one, swaying lamp overhead like you stood within a dream and not your own reality.

"Clothes can be neatly folded and sat on the counter." His voice was small behind you, velvet tone making you only nod in response. "Remember to speak."

One of the top rules: no matter what he says, you must respond. It's a matter of comfort and audit. So that he knows you're still with him, not second guessing or losing yourself inside his work.

"Yes." Your hummed response made his lips twitch, eyes now on the tools in front of him as he stood before the same counter.

You fell behind a long curtain strung up in the corner for privacy—as if you weren't about to be observed, pieces of cloth leaving your body until you were bare and vulnerable. The air seemed to thin as you made the short journey over to the examining table, fingers pressing around the cold, metal stirrups as you tried to configure the best way to the actual table section. A worried expression on your face, it went unseen but felt by the doctor.

"Oh—" You heard him nearly sigh, his warm figure pressing into your side as he urged the braces down for you to climb up. "Pardon that. I thought I had put them down already."

Even in such a hallowed moment, the man was still fresh to the world. Knowledge was his skill, people-skills becoming a new lesson each day.

"There, now." The touch of his hand on your lower back made a breath leap from you, eyes blinking slowly as your form moved to the table to sit. Short strength applied to push you to the seat, the extent of his hand maneuvered around your waist before stopping at your hip bone and leaving you. "Ahh—sorry."

Another rule he had formed for himself, touching comes later. But he seemed so in the moment, your eyes locking and enrapt until he finally spun on his heels back towards the tray of tools.

Pulling the plate forward, the metal scraped against the suave countertop until it met the small, rolling cart. His form hopped in the soft office chair turned into his seat, rolling it and the cart in the direction of the examination table you sat upon.

"Something easy, first." A third rule within the list, you had a choice of what happens before the initial experiment list begins.

"Vibrator." So monotone, Seungmin's fingers lifted the small, bullet vibrator to be direct with your line of sight. The gasp leaving your lips muffled by the sudden cry that followed his cold fingers pulling at your ankle.

He lifted the stirrups, raising them to the level of where your ankles swung in a comfortable way. Colder metal than the rest wrapped around the duration of your legs, the joints running stiff from the solid bands.

"This alright?" Again, his soft voice only leered you to nod until you remembered the rule.

"Yes. That's fine." You were breathless already, his smirk faint.

"Then let's begin." The pad of his thumb clicked on the sex toy without giving you a second to think, a sudden but pleasurable movement occuring against the skin of your lower stomach.

"W-What?" Your confusion only made him laugh, hysterical at the idea that you forgot—even for a second—who he was. The man held the vibrator in one hand and a pen in the other. Multitasking, he was truly the best at almost everything.

You couldn't see his notes, but you could feel your body reacting significantly to such a meager object. Chills ran across your skin, so visible to the naked eyes that anyone a mile away could see you becoming eradicated.

The pen moved just as fast as he did, odd circles drawn with the vibrator until it delved between your already shaking thighs and met where you wanted it to be most. Head thrown back by the impact, your eyes shut just in time to only catch the sound of the pen falling from his grasp and smacking down onto the notebook.

Pupils dilated as you peeled them open to find the sound, Seungmin's hand swerved to find the writing utensil in a panic, his eyes only leaving your body for a split second.

"Return." He huffed, mainly at himself. The word came across as a command to you, your legs jolting in the hold of the stirrups as a loud clunk echoed inside the room. "R-Relax."

His eyes had captured something as he twisted the pleasurable toy right around a sensitive spot, body bending forward. It was a slight change in your veins along your arms slowly matching them all below your skin, how they changed to a darker color as blood pumped through your body faster. A natural response to a sexual activity, blood moving swiftly while releasing adrenaline.

Your mind was almost at a high in this state, watching Seungmin's tongue slip between his lips to wet their dryness before his front teeth clamped down on them. An appearance of a man holding himself back; even he was shaking now.

Your sight turned white until it was almost blinding, hands reaching for anything sturdy to hold onto like you'd fall from the same table that securely held you. An orgasm ripping through every limb, your thighs shaking around his wrist, wetness escaping your body until it coated three of his fingers.

Your response was just what he worked towards. What he praised and witnessed with glee as his pen scribbled something until it grew loose from his hand a second time. The thunk onto the page didn't bother you, the vibrator in his hold making a louder noise as it dropped from between your legs and broke on the tile flooring. Sounds of fast vibrations stopped in the room, only the sounds of your coordinated, heavy pants now moved in the air.

"That's it." He whispered, eyes almost the size of quarters. He was never one for speaking his thoughts aloud, but his tongue just couldn't hold it in. "I love seeing you like this."

Seungmin had at one point lifted from his rolling chair, the seat now a few inches back from his calves and up against the wooden cabinets of the counter. His chest puffed, eyes enlarged, veins visible in his face, and the final motion he made set off a spark in your chest.

His hand slipped down, the sopping, dripping release of your orgasm still on his fingers. He did it so slowly, the pads of two encircling your entrance. Teasing, his eyes met yours as a small "Yes." broke from your vocal cords. Your own wetness was used as lube, mouth gaping open as he pushed the two digits into you. Knuckle by knuckle, he didn't stop until he felt you clench around them.

"N-Not—" Your voice sounded tired already, sensitive to his nearly drooling attentiveness to how naturally wet you felt from within. "—taking notes anymore, Doc?"

You knew how to push his buttons. How he hates questions, hates responding to them even more, but mainly how much he hates you questioning him.

"Mental." Both fingers left you, plunging back in as you cried out a gasping sound. "Taker." He repeated the fingering motions, your legs convulsing with every push and word he spoke as if he were playing you like an instrument. "I guess."

A second orgasm ripped through you, his initial process to get you warmed up now thrown out the window. The removal of his fingers made your entire form twitch, the sudden emptiness after all the actions bringing a pout to your lips.

"Don't get short with me now." Even anger boiling in you couldn't be met with the kindness of his evil smile, the tense lines in your forehead diminishing.

The man had you on every string necessary. None of the tools on his tray he planned to use that night could pull the orgasm from you like his own body could. Metal, silver, big or small, sharp or dull, not even the array of sex toys thrown in enticed you. The faint sound of a cart rolling in, sticky tabs stuck onto your skin, beeps of a heart monitor—something to scientifically track what was coming next: evidence was always necessary to learn about anatomy and physiology.

"So-" You mocked his smirk, knowing well that you had your own, last string to pull from within the guidelines of your signed contract. "What tool is next?"

"Preference?" He was wicked in all ways more than just one. Indefinable, mad and deranged. He knew just what you had come in for, and he knew you'd get it. But, for science, he'd just have to record it all.

"You."

© copyright bearseungmin 2021. all rights are reserved. do not modify, repost, or translate without my permission. please.

#straykidsland #prism.nsfw #fkp-net #skz smut #stray kids smut #kim seungmin smut #seungmin smut #mature #drabble: observational #tw toys #tw edging #tw power exchange #tw medical equipment #bearseungmin.kinktober.2021 #bearseungmin.drabbles #bearseungmin.favorites

[bearseungmin]

cadaver.

Taken too soon, your past lover is gifted a twisted revival. Minho, now instilled with a sudden agenda, plans to take down those who killed him and bring a safe Halloween back to the town, but he needs your assistance to do it.

DETAILS — [ 18+ | fic | 8.7k ] PAIRING — vengeance spirit! minho x gender-neutral! reader GENRES — the crow! au, angst, supernatural, romance, crime WARNINGS — mature content, heavy talks of death, reincarnation & afterlife, death by fire, arson, birds (crows), blood & injuries, corrupt authorities, alcohol consumption, homicide/murder SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, protected intercourse, love making, pet names (doll) A/N — it has supposedly become a tradition for me to write a halloween fic based around one of my favorite films, so here is this years instillation! this movie is very near to my heart, as it is for many others, so i hope i did it justice! enjoy <3 this fic is based off the film ‘The Crow’ (1994)!

taglist: @sleepylixie @dom--minnie @aliceu @lixesque @jaerisdiction @fairygirl18​ @doie-sun 

listen while you read; cadaver playlist . the crow soundtrack

prologue.

A legend reads that souls can be carried and returned by crows. Beady eyes keeping the energy safe and sound, small body able to flee from any sense of danger. Their wings glide through the wind and their feet perch on the headstone of the deceased until they rise from the ground. That was the story told time and time again to the kids who needed comfort and wanted a small piece of horror with their bedtime story.

Things were almost normal in the sleepy town. It wasn't uncommon for those who normally caused trouble to bring more chaos to the table, but one night seemed to set them all ablaze at the same time.

Halloween, the night the dead are said to walk beside the living. From birth until death was life, death and beyond were made out to be nothing but rest.

It was never so simple. Fires would erupt all through the place you called home, and all you could do was hope you weren't the next target.

Clinging to him that night—merely hours before, that was the worst of it. It was almost evanescent in the way he cradled you right back against him; pretending fate wasn't on its way. Like animalistic instincts sensing danger from miles away and handling whatever was before them until it was time to make a move or accept their fate.

He was ravaged, stolen and dismantled. Minho never hurt a fly, the man only wanted to make music and love to you, and yet he was the one who lost his life.

Fate: the funny word now has a numb feeling on your tongue. It wasn't the firemen putting out your once shared apartment, not the police questioning you as you rushed alongside the cart carrying his body, and most definitely not the paramedics working to resuscitate him.

It was the crow sitting upon a chain-linked fence a few feet away staring him down with its black eyes and shivering feathers that caught your attention. The way its head tilted, it looked upon you, listened to the sound of the heartbeat monitor’s never-ending flatlining, gave Minho another glance, and then followed right behind the ambulance as it rushed him down the road.

That very moment in time brought a rush to your head and a harder thump to your heart. Your body was constricting and releasing all at once. All from a bird taking the soul of the man you love.

one.

Wheels turning into the parking spaces of the diner never seemed to stop, your shift running smoother than usual for such a specific night. Three nights before Halloween, the point in time where people in your town replace the batteries in the smoke detectors and draw up an escape route. All in case they became like the man who went with the flames almost a year before.

Minho was one of few to die within the pranks. The assailants knew of the apartment building, knew which room they were beneath by a few floors, and yet they still poured their leftover liquor and lit the match.

Almost a vivid daydream of the night would replay, but each time his face got less and less visible. Heart too pained to see him, mind trying to block his existence to protect the longing feelings of needing him; you stopped questioning why he was fading many months ago. He had left himself before they even removed him from the building, the last you saw was his corpse.

But that night—he had been so quiet, allowing you to sleep as he strummed his guitar gently. The scuffling below went unheard by the loud drops of rain against the windowsill, night air flowing into the room ever so slowly. Oxygen, it only made the flames burn higher.

Clicks and tacks, laughter and screams, heat rising faster than he could wake you, and the scorching feeling of fire brushing your limbs as he pressed you out the door. He went back for the cat. The damn cat.

But that was Minho, thinking of others before himself. It didn't matter that so many bad things were happening around him so quickly. Even you knew what was playing on repeat in his head.

"Just get downstairs! Don't come back up for me, just go down." It was his voice calling over the smoke, eyes peering around the room for the fluffy cat that hid every time it rained or stormed. His charming voice so rampant through the halls, the same words replayed in your head even now like a record with a scratch on it.

When you hear the last words of someone you love, it is bone chilling. But watching their eyes go still and their soul leave their body. It's gratifyingly traumatic in every way possible. You regretted being so attentive.

The long counter filled with a new customer every few minutes; their voices were so loud. So much noise in such a small space, it was the rushing sound of another set of wheels pulling to a stop that halted all conversation.

"I know, bad cop." The lead detective of Minho's case always had a craving for a burger at this time of night, but you always passed him over a salad. "The days close in by every hour. I can't imagine you're very thrilled for what's to come."

His tone always came across as harsh, but the man truly meant well with what he asked. He had witnessed it all that night from the time you got down the last flight of steps and crashed into his arms from smoke insolation.

"There hasn't been a peaceful Halloween since I came to this town. Starting to think I'm the bad luck charm, here." You passed him the bowl and wrapped silverware, ignoring his upward glance of annoyance from the salad sat before him.

"Bad luck was here long before you were born. If anything, you helped livin’ up the place. Minho, too."

His name was enough to make everyone turn their heads. So cherished in such a mundane place to be, he had everyone's hearts from the beginning to the end. His music would shake the floors of where he performed, and his voice could calm anyone within a close enough radius to hear the song. He was loved.

"Yeah." You laughed gently with a smile, eyes staring at the marble countertop. "The year went by so fast."

"You know, he's still with us." A woman at a far booth claimed, everyone nodding. "His album plays at the bar every night. Pictures are posted along the walls in memory. This entire town is a living tribute to that man, darling. Don't you forget it."

You grew to find yourself lucky. Despite those so evil within the cracks of the town, everyone else's hospitality hugged you until you were back on your feet again. A warm blanket on a cold night, a place to stay, a hot meal; no one let you suffer alone. All because they were suffering right there with you.

"If these damn hooligans didn't go apeshit every year, maybe we'd have that peaceful holiday we all need this time. It's cold and raining every day like the world doesn't want them around, but they still get away with it." The detective was always hitting the nail on the head. Someone not afraid to mention when shit hit the fan, you assumed it was because he lived with this every day.

And cold rain—it was, the night peeling into the sleeves of your coat and chilling you to your core. No one dared to bother you any more, the walk home seemed more lonesome than living in an apartment by yourself. Long, cement paths carved with dents and chiseled with cracks guiding you home.

Moon almost full over your head, the distracting caw of the bird caused you to stop in place. Not once since the year before had you seen or even heard the sound of a crow. But one stood before you, hopping small jumps as to get your attention by clinging its feet to a metal fence.

The cemetery, all too dark and creepy to go into alone. Beak long and eyes big, the bird didn't seem to want you to keep moving in the direction you were headed as you took a step forward and it landed just before you. Head tilted, eyes watching, feathers twitching; you knew.

"You seem to be more mysterious than the beyond." You admitted to the creature, its head turning in tandem with your question like it was contemplating its response.

A single flip of its beak to point into the direction of the cemetery had every hair on your body standing and chills to pair with them. Shivering, shaking, but letting the bird lead; it lifted and went gliding its way towards a familiar path of the heavy space. Plate after plate, corner after corner, you finally found just what it wanted you to see. His name carved precisely, headstone in better shape than most, and the slight shift of the dirt making the scenery that much more creepy.

It rose, mud from the rain turning into dry dirt until an index finger poked out from beneath, soon turning into a full hand. The crow called a dark song, watched as the soul was replenished to him, and swayed side to side witnessing him crawl from the grave back into the world again.

Minho, in the flesh, lifted himself from the ground and stood not even two feet from you. Hair longer, circles beneath his eyes darker, limbs lankier, and chest heaving to catch his breath; he didn't even give you so much as a glance before he spoke.

"Mind giving me a hand, doll?"

two.

The force of the scene before you was enough to have your knees buckling. Dirt smeared onto his skin and stained into his clothes, your eyes blinked rapidly before they shut. “Just a dream. Just a dream.” You claimed, feet dragging you backwards onto the pavement. Heels spinning and nearly slipping from the rain coursing across the cement path, you made a rush back for the metal gate you entered before you knew the future.

The bird’s squawking call behind you made you leap through the gateway, make a dash for your apartment, and book it straight home. Invincibility, you knew Minho was more special than most; but never like this. He had an alluring appeal, a smile that could light up a room, and a heart of gold. But the man was never suspicious of being ethereal, capable of rising from the dead. How was that possible?

A brain is a powerful weapon, the organ so convincing that you nearly forgot you had seen him return. When you finally slipped into your apartment and peeled away the wet, dirty clothes things became clearer. The image of his detailed hand pressing through the dirt of the cemetery plot, his soft scented cologne hitting your nostrils, and his deep voice like silk to your ears. “Doll”, it was so clear. A nickname he referred to only you as, the word alone brought tears to brim your ducts.

He had claimed the nickname for you on the same night you met, his soft lips whispering it into your ear only to watch the bumps rise on your skin and throat sip down the alcohol of the drink he bought for you after his show. Minho was never one to flirt so carelessly, your “admirable aura” bringing him to ask if he could get to know you. So easy going, the man with deep eyes and a warm smile.

A hot shower and the soft, cold sheets pulling across your form was enough to break you. The many nights spent alone wondering if he was out there came in like a tidal wave. The wonders of if he was watching over you, waiting for you, still admiring you from afar. Where had he gone? Why was he gone? And if you would actually get to see him again some day. Your heart was with him, and his blemished return made you shake in fear.

A croak of a bird startled you upwards, the very same crow resting on the beam across the studio apartment. Condescending, like a hallucination, your knees pressed into the mattress as you sat up and stared up at the fowl.

“You’re a symbol of death in most beliefs. Transformation and change in others.” Your eyes blinked ever so slowly, tears dripping down your cheeks. “There’s only one of you. Is this my bad omen?”

“Does that mean if there are two, it is a good omen?” His voice was like honey, your eyes shifting from the bird to the man perched in the open windowsill with that same, cheeky smile on his face.

“You should know, you told me that.” Your smile was so faint. Only for a split second, but he saw it. “Why are you here?” Voice just above a whisper, you saw the flash in his eyes of his own tears fading away with quick blinks.

“Do I need a reason to come see you?”

“How many times have you seen me since you died?” The question had lingered in your mind for too long, his soft laugh breaking the quietness of the room.

A subtle sound came from the bird, its wings flapping up and down until it lifted from the beam and made its way towards Minho. “This is my first full vision, but I've heard your voice many times now.”

“Where did you even go?”

“I don’t quite know, either.” He admitted, eyes dropping to the floor as the small patter of the remaining raindrops slipped off his leather coat onto the hardwood flooring. “All I know is—”

You knew that look in his eyes. Agonizing, like you were the first light of the sun after years of clouds. “I’ve missed you.”

“This is too much.” Your form lifting from the bed so sporadically made him finally spin on the soles of his feet and allow himself to sit on the windowsill instead of crouch on it. His muscular legs showed even through his tight, ripped skinny jeans, stretching until he maneuvered away from the window all together and stood at the foot of your bed. “T-Too much.”

Anyone would go insane from this. In fact, most do. But to have a lover come crawling back from the dead just to get to you; it was, in fact, getting to you.

Pupils dilated, fingers running through your hair as you gripped at your own skull—you even pressed your back into the wall just to give distance between you and the man.

“What are you?” Your words were gritted through your teeth.

He was your center of all peace. Minho had arranged your life like a bouquet of flowers, giving you only your favorites and leaving out the rest. No matter what comes towards both of you, big or small, good or bad, you always manage to work things out equally. But here and now, he was something incomprehensible.

“I am here for a reason.”

“I asked who, not why.”

Temper small but words large, he only sighed. “Doll, I need to give you something.”

Hearing the name come from his mouth, one not imaged by your pitying brain, it was a trigger. Your voice was coated with coughs and hiccups, body folding into itself as your knees hit the hard floor. It was a matter of time before you understood he was truly back, but the feeling of his cold hand pressing into the back of your neck made your body rush with adrenaline.

His fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of your neck just as he always did. It was a relaxing habit he gained, an easy way to help you become at ease. But this time it was all but reposing.

The small object fell from his opposite hand, the fingertips releasing it on purpose. It fell just beside your folded leg, in just enough of your sight to be noticed yet ignored. Your hand reached for him involuntarily, like the pugnacity boiling in your veins was only a repressed emotion and not what you were feeling. He was there, someone you could really reach for this time.

But as your palm fell against the middle of his chest, realization hit you from the hollowness. No beating heart you loved to press your ear against him to hear, nothing entirely. Your eyes rose to meet his, the calm darkness in his irises subsiding into something much stranger. Sparkles of the living peering through the dead's eyes, he was there and not all in the same.

“I’ll see you again.”

A blink was all it took for the frame of the man you loved, lost, and had returned to you to vanish again. He wasn’t just a mirage or a memory, he was something far greater than anything imagined. Minho, the one you knew would change the world, was single handedly corrupting your own.

“I need to give you something.” His lips had parted like butter to spill the first drop of his natural healing magic to your sickened mind. The short memory of the object falling beside you returned, your eyes finding it before your hand. Your entire limb retracted, a hearty breath leaving your lungs from shock.

Something you never thought to see again, the black guitar pick he always kept in his pocket to use to play when he could or was asked to. No matter how often he lost it, it always found its way back to him. The small pattern on the plectrum, printed white to be seen, made your heart leap into your throat. Even when you couldn’t see fate, it had a funny way of foreshadowing what it holds.

“A crow.” You claimed, the man sitting across from the booth of the same diner you left just hours prior lifting his eyebrow. “He’s real!”

“Let me get this straight.” The detective always had to retrace his steps, even if it meant repeating what someone said. “A crow led you to Minho’s grave. Then he was resurrected from his grave. You ran home. Him and the crow showed up there. And he left you something?”

“Exactly.” The tears were still freshly stained on your face. From the other customers in the diner’s perspective, you were still the grieving partner of a lost but loved one. “He’s back.”

The man put his index and thumb on his temple faster than you had ever seen, applying pressure slowly to release the tension as a harder sigh left him. He had heard all the stories before, once he even recalled them all to you. But this one was ‘outlandish’, as he shortly claimed.

“Where has he even been if he rose from the ground?”

“He said he didn’t know when I asked. Just that he missed me.”

“Sounds like Minho.” His voice still sounded unconvinced.

“I have proof.” Your statement was brave, eyes blinking away the tears threatening to fall when the mental image of the item came back into view.

The icon on the small pick had faded from years and years of use, always pressed between Minho’s fingertips as he strummed away at any guitar handed to him. It was the true amulet that represented him, so much so that it had been placed into his pocket that very night of the fire for safe keeping.

So much so. “How did you get that?”

The detective’s eyes lit up like a lantern in the sky, cheeks reddening on his face as the number of his blood pressure spiked. Of all the things left behind, it was never one of them.

“He left it for me last night.”

“H-How?” The man was breathless. “It was buried with him. I watched it be placed in his right pocket by the coroner hours before he was laid to rest.”

“I told you, he’s back.”

It was a light at the end of a dark tunnel, but even the road below has bumps.

“I don’t think you understand the severity of this situation.” His voice only got darker and deeper, the mind of a detective piecing together all of the clues much faster than you could. “Minho isn’t back just to return.”

“I know. He mentioned he’s back for a reason.”

“Sweetheart—” The man’s eyes were sympathetic, worried about what his next words would truly do to you. But before he could get them out, even let them sink into his own mind, his eyes diverged to the small tv over your head.

“He’s back for vengeance.”

“Breaking: Homicide committed, man found dead. With a link to last year's arson cases, could this be the karma the city has been praying for? Or is someone out for revenge?”

three.

The name of the man made your skin crawl, his death justifiable but still within the creep factor the world seemed to be building higher at this time of year. Like karma giving a greenlight while laughing, Minho’s name was displayed on the same news channel. He was forever linked to the fire and his gruesome death just as much as the men who set it.

Your head had swiveled around too soon, the detective’s face in your peripheral suddenly distressed. If Minho’s name wasn’t hard enough to see plastered on the screen, being played by every local news channel in the city—witnessing the crime scene photos taken of the arsonist's death was worse. Blurred images showed that he had been murdered in an alleyway, stabbed and butchered by his own knives. Karma was definitely laughing at the madness, but your gut knew the true matter at hand.

It had already begun.

“Minho.” His name was so deep under your breath that it came out as a gasp, an easy to see expression on your face distracting enough to make anyone believe you were only shocked by the death itself. The one who did it, the man you love, was red-handed without so much as a pin on his name and location. He was dead to everyone, although he roamed once more.

“What do you know?” The detective sipped on his second cup of coffee of the morning, sitting back into the booth now appearing as calm as ever. “I guess fate came knocking.”

It was a leap in your gut, what he said was too specific. Came knocking, just as Minho did hours prior to the arsonist’s death. Even if you asked or tried to read him enough, there was no way he could have been in two places at once to give a signal of his resurrection.

“About time someone did something.”

“Bet it was a corrupt cop who did the deed.”

“Or better yet, someone in line with their head on straight.”

The customer's words made your ears ring. It was true, the man had caused so much pain to the city. But a death like that was too horrid to be ignored. Minho knew what he was doing, setting a silent blaze that only attacked the attacker. Where does he lie within all this?

“I don’t like this.” Your words were still quiet, but enough to make the entire diner grow harsh. The looks of others made you want to race outside, their expressions questioning why you were so doubtful of the amendment being made. You were truly in the middle of this now, but no one had a clue. “When has death ever solved anything?”

“It's out of our hands.” The coffee in the mug had grown cold, but still sat between his large palms. “The news just read that they didn’t apprehend a suspect.”

“Which means another one of the men could die tonight.”

“So be it.”

Corruption began with those who ran rampant in the streets setting fires meant to only startle others. When they lead to deaths, corruption was what became of the police who wrote the scenes off as “kids being kids”. Those same police were the ones who allowed the trafficking of drugs, started fights, and single-handedly brought the whole city down with them. It started from the bottom and rose so fast to the top that authority was no longer the answer to the question of “what do we do?” anymore. The city rang with bells asking for procedural justice, and only one man answered.

“Whoever the killer is, I hope they know how many lives they’re saving.”

Eye for an eye. If only they remembered it was Minho who was taken, too.

Your hands shook too much during the shift to manage anything, everyone convinced the new death had you spooked. Eyes diverted, coughs covered your name, hands pointed in your direction; it didn’t end until the card was clicked and you were off the clock.

It’s imaginable that those getting served their own karma would make the air more breathable around you, but the darkness of the night only crept towards your senses like an awaited jump scare. The sidewalk wasn’t as welcoming. People lining the streets, they were already becoming less afraid to walk the night-life again. You were still an outcast in an attempt to not rebreak your heart, sight set on the ground until a small patch of sodding came into view.

Fake grass laid upon the ground to cover what was beneath, you found yourself outside the gate of the same cemetery you avoided at all costs. Every bit of your being wanted to pretend he was still inside, that Minho was at rest. But the caw of the familiar crow breaking through the harsh winds redacted all the less-worrisome thoughts filling your mind for comfort.

It had to be known that he was watching, the hair on your body never laid back down from the night before when his eyes caught full sight of you for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

“I should really put a cat collar on you. One with a little bell so I can hear you coming.”

“Wouldn’t that ruin the surprise?”

He stood tall, the exact same clothing he had been buried in—the same outfit he always wore on a really good night—tight on his frame. Minho pushed off from the leaning position on the gate from within the cemetery, long legs carrying him until he was a few feet in front of you. The subjective place was becoming more or less unnerved by his emergence, but as it stood around him, it appeared restless.

“Did you find it by your leg?” A flash of the night before made your breathing hitch, sight of the black pick with a symbol printed on it regaining your focus. He only blinked at you, awaiting your answer.

“Why did you leave it to me?”

“He wouldn’t have believed me any other way.”

The detective was headstrong, only accepting factual evidence. Your second-handed appeal seemed to shake him only for a moment, but you distinctively remembered his slip up of a sentence. Fate came knocking, it had a double meaning now.

“You did go and see him.” Your eyes were shocked, but your voice was allayed.

“For a brief moment.”

“Minho, this is too risky.” Riddled with a smirk on his lips, he peered past you from the use of the word risk. He seemed clean before you, empty handed—but part of you could still see the faint stains of blood in the lines of his hands if you stare long enough.

“Risk is what we need.” His words were tainted, yet you could still see the Minho you knew staring back at you. “Doll, if I had taken a risk before, I’d still be by your side.”

“But you are at my side. Now.”

“Not forever like I was meant to be.”

The pain in your chest was more agonizing than the frown growing on his face. It took so much for the man to lose his smile, and you hated seeing it fall more than anything else in the world.

“I can’t do anything you ask me to. I’ve already lost so much.” You were breaking, voice echoing in your own head much louder than it was coming from your mouth. “I already lost you once. Don’t make me lose you again.”

“That was what I was afraid of.” His shoulders grew wider as his head fell, eyes on the squared path beneath his heavy boots. “I guess—” He halted like he hated saying what was next, but to him—there was only one solution to the entire situation. “—you’ll just have to come with me the next time I go.”

four.

Blurred vision brought the grotesque scene of Minho placing his fist through a wooden door, bloodied hand twisting the doorknob and allowing him inside the small motel room over the local bar. The man in the corner shook with every fiber of his being, the nail gun in his hand appearing as a decent weapon.

Only until the nails shot from the gun into the skull and chest of Minho did your oxygen leave you, the blood rushing from the injuries enough to have your sleeping form hyperventilating. But Minho didn’t falter, moving in on the second arsonist without so much as a wince.

The dream was so realistic, Minho’s lengthy hair falling down from the sweated-out gel until it swung before his eyes. Animalistic, pupil’s dilated and irises darker than the sky around a dying star—you never wished to see this. Red blood poured down his face as he leaned in closer, face to face with the arsonist—but you were looking through his eyes. In the place of the man nearing his rightful death, Minho almost hypnotically removed the gun from his hand. It was aimed in direct proportion to the space between his, your, eyes until the forceful but imaginary pain rushed you from the pillow and mattress below.

Your breathing stuttered, hands feeling at your face to find no marks or blood spilling like it would have had it actually been you. White cat at your feet, it sensed your discomfort and fizzled its fluffy hair before curling back up into its sleep. Your gentle words towards it as an apology only made it let out a breath, the same leaving you at the sight of your own bedroom.

The dream was too real, too detailed, and awfully astute to have just been a dream.

It was the front page of the paper, displayed all over the city as you made your way to open the diner. Death by nail gun, the homicidal killer had struck again. As it had been up until now, everyone's perception was twisted and convinced it was all karma. Killed by his own nail gun, above the same bar he tortured, within the same room he lived in, and right beside the bed he slept in every other night. Like a perplexing poem, the town was enjoying every second of justice.

Then night came back. The screen had been pulled long ago, the open section of the diner now closed as the last hour of your shift came around. One in the morning was the calmest time in the city, all things scary or bad busy and the soft and good sound asleep in their homes. There were usually only one or two customers, the building quiet except for the faint sound of the juke-box playing along the far wall.

The book in your hands flashed, vision impaired from the brightest light above going in and out in blips. Your sight rose from the words on the page, but instead of looking directly up—you found the derelict man vertically right before your face. Legs bent and tight around the swinging lamp above, Minho swayed back and forth as his body hung opposite of you from the ceiling.

“Paying attention?” He asked, a handsome grin on his face with blindingly white teeth shining through his lips.

“I am now.”

An obvious patch of hair was missing from his thick mane, a small section only large enough to directly correspond to the mark of a nail. Your eyes followed it as his strong arms lifted him back up to the lamp, legs pulling from the metal and hanging as he continued to dangle himself from the light fixture that threatened to break from the wires any second.

“Good.” He smiled a smirk, swinging hard and dropping his feet to the floor on the other side of the counter, body falling into the same seat he always sat in.

It welcomed him more than anything else had yet. The chair still swiveled each time he moved, his feet upon the metal bar on the lower part of the counter’s wall barely cradling his long legs. Smile wide, eyes bright, Minho looked like himself for just a moment. Like he had never left.

“Lift up your shirt.” You couldn’t hide the curiosity in your voice, the man’s smirk only returning in a sensual way.

“Isn’t it against work rules to flirt with a customer, doll?”

“I need to check for something.” The words were demandive, Minho’s head shaking as he lifted the thin fabric of his black tank-top beneath his leather jacket.

“Need to see the nail mark to believe it?”

“What?” Your eyes shot from his skin to his eyes, the bright irises making you shiver.

He knew. He knew it all from the beginning.

“You saw what happened in your dream. When I got back home, you were shaking in your sleep like you were having a nightmare.” It was a matter of hours before you could fall back asleep, a hard struggle to even close your eyes again after the dream you had. It wasn’t a dream, but an insight to reality taking place a few blocks away.

He always called wherever you were home.

Just likie his skull where the nail had obviously penetrated deep enough to leave a mark and release blood, you had seen the second nail press into his skin in real time. Yet right before you, the man holding his top up to his chin to let you see the smooth skin of his tight chest, there was nothing there. No scars, marks, or blood—he was completely devoid of any remaining marks from the altercations at all.

It was a dream, then it wasn’t. The possibility of the universe was broadening in your mind, Minho’s soft voice calling you back to the world before you.

“I need you to do something for me now.”

His voice brought you back to that night before, his soft-spoken words telling you the only solution he had come up with that solves every issue and whatever follows accordingly. To leave with him, die with him once his vengeance is over. What are you meant to say to that?

“What is it?” You wanted to take back your words, all of them one by one. The regret of working within his ploy to get revenge made you feel sick, but Minho always had a way of reading you.

“It’s not that, baby.” He shined, even in the white light of the vacated diner. “Meet me tonight at our old apartment.”

Your gut twisted and turned at the idea of the place where all your belongings and the man you loved were forced to leave you. It had to be filled with “do not enter” signs and yellow tape marking the sections most dangerous. What was there to return to?

The dark rain washed over the city just as it did every night until Halloween. Nightly air sucking into your nostrils and filling your lungs, your senses flourished as your sight found the moving shadow above where you walked. Minho’s rushing form moved smoothly through the rain, not a slip or jolt. His arms swayed him back and forth on the satellite pole as it swung him across to another building, feet landing perfectly on the small ledge before he rushed across the brick roof towards the next. Leaping across chambers of story-long falls without so much as a heavy breath, the crow flew through the rain just as fluently above him. It was the sight of something uncanny, unhuman—and the more you seemed to see him, the less he looked like the man you knew.

five.

The golden ring on your left hand’s finger the next morning did everything but startle you. It was a simple habit of yours to come home from work early in the morning and take it off for a shower, and too easy to forget to put it back on before dozing off to sleep. But on a night just like that, you awoke with it on your finger—in the exact place Minho put it.

A promise ring with so many memories vibrating inside the reflective gold that your finger ran numb when you were reminded of them. It was a gift from the man who gave you his heart the first week you had known him, and a promise made to never leave your side.

A promise broken and reprised, a tale too painful to bear.

Hesitation brought you to turn on the TV, but you already knew what was to come. Another new story covering another homicide done by your dead lover, the case had everyone’s eyes on the screen every time a name read across in large letters.

The third arsonist was found dead, removed from his totaled car that had rushed into the river not too far off the direction Minho had been headed in that night. Shrieking arounds of breaks and the horn sounded in your ears like a memory you were reliving, your palms covering your ears not enough to null the noise. Another dream you had, but thankfully forgotten by that morning. A memory that wouldn’t part from you until death.

It hadn’t gotten too far into you, but it was reaching the limit. Death, reincarnation, murder, and visualizing images and sounds to go along with the trio-ed story. Minho was part of you, he had been since that first night he sat down beside you at the bar; but you becoming part of him was the dilemma. Everything he felt, you felt. What he heard, you heard. More now before you could realize, all this blood was on your hands, too.

Devil’s night. A night of chaos and blemishes that mark every town and heart in its path. Three of the men who had caused so much pain and misery to the city were now being buried six feet below it, and you could see it in everyone you passed as night fell again.

Excited, peaceful, and exhilarant. Children ran around in their costumes, adults already had bags of candy on their shoulders from early trick or treating. Most importantly, for once in the last ten years of the cities’ history, no fires had been lit and no irreplaceable lives had been taken.

It stood still no matter how lively the town was running. Burnt to a crisp and hardly structured, the apartment building that sweltered with heat greeted you. The double front doors squealed as you stepped inside, the cases of stairs creaked under your feet as you rose floor by floor, and the familiar sight of the slightly open door with candle-light peeking from inside made you weak at the knees.

Minho sat with his wrist bent over the edge of the vanity, the visual of your frame slowly pulling the door open and stepping inside a sight worth him seeing as a grin rose from his blank face. Happiness in his eyes as your face reflected back at you the more he moved in on you, the huge changes to your life seemed to simplify back to the past as his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into him.

“I can’t make it the exact same, but I put the candles where you liked them as best I could.”

“It looks wonderful.” You exclaimed, eyes peering around the room for long enough to see the thickly-laid pallet on the floor with only two large candles illuminating the space.

With so much going on around you, it was a facile moment to live. Minho’s arm draped heavily across your shoulder as the other held you against him, his eyes falling on the lips he hadn’t kissed in over a year. It was a slow-motion film scene witnessing him suck in his breath and lean down to push his lips into yours, and it was most refreshing to taste him on your tongue. His wet muscle lapped at your mouth before the arm at your waist squeezed the last of your breath from you, a break in the kiss making you remember how much you missed this even more.

Heated kisses before were lavishing, but the ones now were like medication you couldn’t live without. The parting of a year ago was so abrupt, the loss and loneliness giving you no room left in your heart to let anyone in. Minho had always catered to every wish you could have made, and gave you no expectations from how well matched you felt alongside him. But having him back in your hold with his throat releasing a moan as your fingers threaded through the long brown locks of his hair, it was home once more.

It was gratifying to have the man you loved in your arms. Colder than before but warming up with each piece of clothing lost until he cradled your naked form above the soft blankets of the pallet on the floor, Minho’s skin heated yours just as it always did when you made love.

His mouth could only leave yours for minutes at a time, small bites and sucks engraving your skin to burn and welp for the rest of the night. The passion and fire never left him, his legs holding yours apart to run his bare hands up and down your body. Tongue pressing hard licks to your most sensitive spaces, pants and moans releasing from you before the first release of the night would turn into many, and the man had you in his favorite position.

“How is it—” His breath was hot against the shell of your ear, words dripping thicker than your juices on his fingers. “—that you still manage to make me feel calm and jittery at the same moment in time?”

“I don’t know.” Your tongue was always tied when he asked you questions like this, but he knew how to receive an answer much greater than sentences could form.

“I’ll help you remember.” He grinned, face falling down deeper and deeper until your body swelled and released once more.

“And again.” The grin was a smirk when his hand was trailing across his own stomach and feeling at his cock, rubbing it slowly before pressing it into your lubricated walls. He had little control of himself, always, at this point, yet you felt him hold his breath and carry on with all his might. Thrusting, pulling himself out just to ram himself back in, his fingerprints left in your skin from where he had to hold onto you to keep himself sane. Minho knew just what to do every chance he had you, and he never disappointed.

With a kiss on your swollen lips and a broken sentence of his tired voice, your smile back at him verbally made his heart skip a beat in your ears before sleep took over. “And always.”

The pull of the blankets woke you from the light slumber, Minho’s form lifting from the bed with nothing but his boxers on. Lightly sweated skin glowing in the faint moonlight of the now clear sky, you watched his lanky limbs fall as he sat down at the vanity.

Candlelight making it difficult to see, the sleepiness of your eyes bringing more struggle, you still saw the foundation lift into his palm. Brush running through the makeup, he pressed it against his face until each pore was painted white. Line-less, he sighed before pulling at the plastic lid over the tip of the black pencil eyeliner, drawing along the white paint to create a hollowed black smile. Eyeliner around his eyes, the black strokes reshaping his facial structure completely being paired with the white paint across his skin completely reformed him.

Minho’s smile seemed more wicked than his eyes shining in the reflection of the mirror with an eerie glow to them. Bizarre, his index fingers pulling at the corners of his mouth to lift his lips into a smile and then a frown. From the looks of it, he didn’t appear to know himself in the mirror.

“Just a little longer.” He sighed once more, this time speaking under his breath. “One more, then peace again.”

“Together?” Your voice was louder than his, enough to get his attention. His palm cupped at the drying paint, removing it from the skin of his face to his hand in an instant. A loving look overlapping the strange glisten in his eyes, the moment he saw you he seemed to change back.

“Together, of course.”

six.

Dawn rose until lines of blue and purple meshed in the sky, your shoes scuffing the pavement as you stepped out onto the sidewalk of the city. Just as easily as you parted from Minho did you find the day moving faster, a bright sun evaporating all the rain until the sky began to turn dark again.

Sunset, the pink and red lights made the cemetery look more amicable than it had the last few days. The rails shined, rusted corners and sharp points of paint against your skin as you pressed inside the calm place. Directly in the middle of the city, it was the beacon of all things that came along and passed in their own time.

And just as it had been when you rushed away, the plot of dirt where Minho once laid still sat open. A hole big enough for the man to rise out vertically, the space was now tacked with a yellow flag. Under investigation, the curious city wasn’t new to grave robberies.

But him—the detective, authorities, news, and city-living community knew the story of the crow when they saw it.

When two souls are forced to part, in life or death, they are always brought back together. Righteousness only exists in truth, the lore of the crow standing equitable. In some pieces of the legend, the crow returns the soul to make things right. This case was accurate, Minho had returned not only for vengeance and peace, but to retrieve the love he lost, too.

The rose’s black petals you placed down seemed to welt at the touch of the mud alone, withering into a deep brown color and falling down into the hole in place of the body. Like the universe knew what it was missing, and wouldn’t take anything in its place. Your mind ran rampant with what was to come, the sudden scuffling sound within the cement walls of the deteriorating church too loud to let you think.

Staircase creating a soft echo as you made it up the tall inclination, the altercation only seemed to worsen. Punches thrown, blood spilled, and you only made it inside in time to find just who was head to head.

The final arsonist alive to see the last of his days was held tightly in a choke-hold, Minho’s strong arms not giving in to release him any time soon. No matter how much about Minho you knew, how much you loved him, or how much he loved you: the look in his eyes was created by pure horror and strife.

“Minho—” He had seen you the second you stepped into the church, walls lined with red and purple colors from the stained glass being illuminated by the sun setting outside. Even with his name on your tongue, the man didn’t stutter.

“This is right. Isn’t it?” Morally corrupt, physically here but mentally elsewhere—you could see it, he just wanted an escape. “H-How do we know he gets what he deserves past death?”

“You came back, didn’t you?”

“He could, too.”

“To help what? He has nothing to prove.” The arsonist's eyes were dark with purple marks and black lines, days of hiding from the world when his name and Minho’s were put back in the news getting to him. If the worst of the worst could fear death, Minho embracing it and doing good meant he was much more of a better soul than most others could be. “You left me, and the entire world, with a gaping hole. It was like the one helping you pass on knew it wasn’t right to let you go like that.” The crow perched on the wooden, decayed benches of the church hardly hopped or squawked in response, only twisting its head between you and Minho.

“But where does he go?” Your lover still couldn’t truly remember where he had gone. “H-Hell. I hope.” Eyes wild, body sweating, Minho was on his last limb and already pulling the gun from the middle of his back. The ring of the bullet sounded for miles, going clean through the arsonist’s skull.

Your body couldn’t react fast enough, the gurgling of the man falling to the floor as the life left his eyes bringing you to vibrate and lose your balance. Silence filled into the church, Minho’s heavy pants the only distinctive noise you could make out in the space.

No rain, no fires, people way off in the distance enjoying the holiday for the first time in years, and you—trying to race to catch Minho’s falling figure. The bullet had taken two lives instead of one, the crow that gifted your lover a second chance creating a babbling call and falling onto the soft velvet cushion of the seat. In a matter of seconds it was dead along with the arsonist. Each and every one of Minho’s injuries returned to his body in the order that he received them. Marks, slices from knives, nail holes from the gun, and glass fragments left from the accident of the car: they were only killing him faster.

So much pain, loss, and desensitization only meant one answer—peace. The air was breathable, the moon shined brighter outside the open doors, and Minho’s soft hiccups of air against you brought you to realize the trail of fate was in your linings.

Things were no longer dark, now healing and regrowing. The only thing left to leave was Minho.

The hefty breaths of the detective pulled your sight from your lover’s eyes, watching the man’s gun held tight in his hold lower and fall to the ground out of shock. Tall, broad, and never casually caught off guard—his reaction gave recognition to how bad this looked.

He was heavy in your arms, torso falling lightly onto the concrete as the rest followed. His eyes could only watch the stained glass in the walls, lids falling heavy as he neared death a second time.

His calmness exhibited his plan all along to you visually, the sob hidden by your quivering lips as you raised the gas canister and began to pour it over you and Minho.

“Does it really have to be like this?” Questioned the detective, but your motions were too sure to be denied.

“I want it.” You cried, hot tears pouring down your face as the sight of the church around you blurred. “I want to go with him.”

The remaining strength in Minho was enough for him to lift his arm and take your hand, the lit match in your hold shaking with your breath.

“Then don’t do this alone.” The second match was lit by the detective, his hand shaking less and less as his arm extended out enough to toss it safely in a moment's time. “I can handle forensics. You get to where you’re going.”

The match in your hand with a burning flame, and the guitar pick in Minho’s with the crow printed on it. Nothing could have settled the much-needed serenity more than the last purposely-lit fire getting set in the city.

“I think it’s time to let fate for us end.” Minho winced, smiling an idiotic smile at the idea that he’ll have you with him forever.

The matches fell, the place burned, and even the crow on the guitar pick went along with it.

© copyright bearseungmin 2021, all rights are reserved. do not modify, repost, or translate without my permission. please.

#straykidsland #prism.nsfw #fkp-net #stray kids smut #skz smut #minho scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #mature #fic: cadaver #tw death #tw reincarnation #tw fire #tw arson #tw food #tw blood #tw homidice #strange.devotion.honorable.mentions #bearseungmin.fics #bearseungmin.favorites

[bearseungmin]

[ hindsight. ] — late at night you hear the whines of your personal familiar, and felix is more than inviting for you to give him what he needs.

rating: mature! pairing: cat familiar! felix x witch/warlock! gender-neutral! reader genre: familiar! au, shape-shifter/hybrid! au, smut, supernatural word count: 1k [warnings]: mature content, sexual content, power exchange, thigh-riding, sub tendencies! felix, multiple orgasms/overstimulation, lubrication, use of sex toys (dildo), doubled pleasure do not interact with this if you are under 18.

— kinktober 2021 masterlist

His abs tensed and released, the lumps of muscle not changing shape despite his heavy panting. Bright eyes like bulbs in the dark room, the welcoming light of the moon through the curtains helped you see the sweat running in beads down his body. His canines hardly poked out from between his plump lips, ears twitching at you rising from your sleeping position to take him in.

"F-Felix?" Groggy, sight hardly there—you could still hear his whimpers.

The lightest sound, pained and wanting. Felix had always come to you for what he needs, it was part of his position. Protect you, assist you, and in return: you provide him with whatever he needs.

His hands reached out first, fingers separated and veins evident beneath his skin. Furrowed brows didn't halt your curiosity as the familiar climbed his way up your bed, body shaking and barely holding himself up above you as your eyes aligned.

"I-I need help." Small drops of sweat fell from his blonde locks, his blown pupils in the dim light of darkness slowly turning morning making you unable to resist him. "To be—" His hesitation made you blink slowly, hand barely pressing into his bare chest to push him sideways and down onto the opposite side of the bed. "—filled with you."

He always tailored to you. Helped heal your cuts, stayed by your side during hard battles, and even sensed when you wanted someone to make you feel less alone in the dead of night when your mind ran rampant and thighs clenched.

And it was his turn to be the one pressing his head back into the pillow, holding tightly onto whatever is around, and rushing to an orgasm he had been begging for all night.

Skin blaring with heat, his half-naked body was already flushed with sweat like he had been attempting to get himself off. Dry-handed, whimpers falling off his lips—the visual alone gave you the confidence to make the first move.

"Filled by me?"

His head nodded frantically, but you were already too focused on hearing him respond in a louder way.

Your lips pressed against the smooth skin of his collarbone, teeth hardly pinching at the skin before his waist was lifting from the mattress. A hard grunt, his cock throbbed in his boxers against your thigh as he rocked up for friction. Pleading silently, Felix wasn't always one for words when his head was so fuzzy.

"Are you sure about that?"

More frantic nods, and the sensation of heat suddenly pooling between his legs. The man had cum from your voice talking to him, from your thigh giving the smallest touches to where he had been rubbing himself for so long. A huff, Felix's head was thrown back as the stain soaked through the thin fabric.

"I-I—" His fingers clenched at your shirt, grip focused on your shoulder as he shivered through his first orgasm.

The only texture similar to that of the cum rushing from his cock was the lube leaking from the bottle onto your fingers. His hands were quick to pull the bottoms from him, the chills taking place on his now bare skin making your tongue twist between your lips.

"Pl-Please." He asked so nicely, eyes blinking up at you half-lidded as he fought through the relief of the sudden orgasm in order to receive another one in a matter of time.

Your fingers were so slick with the lube that lines separated and hung with the motions you created. Felix’s tongue panted at the sight of what would slick his hole, the image enough to make him reel back and let out a low whine.

His deep voice croaked, a single word on his tongue making you realize just how needy your familiar had become for you. "Now."

His legs bent at the knees, separated and allowing you to press a single digit into him. One became two, two became gentle pumps, and by the third—he was cumming again.

A white release gliding onto his thigh as his entire form twitched, his lips fluttered with your name in broken letters. "M-More."

You had taunted him long enough, the long dildo pulled from a drawer layered with the same lube now within him. A slight curve to the toy, Felix's gaze shifted between you and the object as you pushed the tip into him slowly.

"F-Fuck—" Felix never cursed, becoming fully penetrated within seconds by the toy enough to let the word slip.

The swivels of the toy had him seeing stars, your sight of his eyes shutting tight and cheeks turning red from pleasure enough to have arousal growing in your own gut. It was enough to make anyone watch closely, listen to his hiccups of words and language, and most assured, lick at him when he was too deep in.

"Felix—" You called softly, his eyes pulsing with his heartbeat as his final release was closing in.

A single iris came into sight, dark and blinking with every heavy thrust of the toy into his tight walls. "Y-Yes?" It was a sigh of relief to watch your thighs rubbing against one another.

Still, with every natural instinct in his veins to care for you—even with himself so far lost in the pleasure you gave him—Felix knew what you wanted, too. His hands barely pulled at your legs, a deep breath in as you sunk down onto his own length.

Penetration, the toy hitting the spot that made darkness fall over him and his words run silent—that made his release rush through his cock until it was deep within you. A frantic lift of his hips, two strong thrusts and his fingers playing with more sensitive spots—the two of you came hard, back to back.

"I was going to say—" You smiled down at him, his flushed skin pale where your hands pressed into him for support. You felt him throb inside of you, his cum leaking out and mixing with the lube around the toy. "Me next."

"I knew what you needed."

© copyright bearseungmin 2021. all rights are reserved. do not modify, repost, or translate without my permission. please.

#straykidsland #prism.nsfw #fkp-net #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #felix smut #mature #drabble: hindsight #tw power exchange #bearseungmin.kinktober.2021 #bearseungmin.drabbles

[bearseungmin]

[ a new direction. ] — your enthrallingly lewd roommate is tired of watching you touch yourself every night and decides to take control. only thing is: changbin can’t actually touch you.

rating: mature! pairing: incubus! changbin x human! gender-neutral! reader genre: incubus! au, smut, supernatural word count: 1.3k [warnings]: mature content, sexual content, somnophilia, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, lots of dirty talking, fingering, short-hand ending do not interact with this if you are under 18.

— kinktober 2021 masterlist

The sounds of your moans were hollow, tired hands moving across your warm skin for the fourth night in a row. It wasn’t that you purposely meant for your roommate to hear, it was just that Changbin’s senses were much stronger than you believed them to be.

His skin would prick with chills, ears would focus in on your swallowed sounds from down the hall, and his hand would slip across his taut stomach to find himself growing needy within his underwear. Eyes speckled with intensity and pupil’s dilated, the man’s hunch for your loneliness became spot on from the following sound of your sighs.

Night after night, your back against the mattress, and nothing but coldness all around your heated form. Changbin’s nose could smell you from down the hall, the growing arousal in the pit of your stomach recreating a fire in his own. It was only his natural instinct to want more, to pleasure the unpleasured until fulfilled—but he couldn’t bring himself to go any further.

Power strong, your hand finding yourself was enough to make him leap to the edge of his own bed until you heard the hardwood flooring creak under his feet from the force. Movements halted, breathing unsteady, his power brought him to see you too clearly.

“Changbin—” Your body shivered at the sound of his stout breathing in your ears like he was right beside you.

You had heard it once, only once before. Passing his room on a late night, his panting increasing as you passed. Had you known it was you he was getting off to, your pheromones making him lose himself and release from your scent in his nostrils alone, this moment before you would be a little more astounding.

“Why do you keep trying?” He growled, throat dry from his hard breathing. “There isn’t anything else you could do to yourself to make yourself cum as hard as you need to.”

It had been rather hard for your roommate to ignore the fact that you never had sexual partners over, never gave yourself the pleasure to relax and release. It was in his genetic makeup to swell with every infatuated state you created for yourself, for him to want to fill you up and give you what you want. The incubus man was directly affected by you in all ways, but it was his chance to return the perception.

“Why do you pretend to ignore me?” Your sudden question was an insight on how much you—actually—pay attention, but the man could only chuckle in response.

“Because you’re too easy to enjoy.” His snicker made your fingers twitch, sensitive to his voice playing in your ears as if you were wearing earbuds and listening to a recording. “And too much fun to fuck with.”

Changbin had long enjoyed you, the erratic sounds of the wetness created by your body enough to have him releasing his own juices to mimic the sensation. But the feeling of your hand skimming over your skin, a numbness to the nerves, and the very same wetness soaking your fingertips—it made him feel wild.

Your heat could be felt by his fire-lit skin no matter how much of a distance was between you, his breathing growing erratic in your ears before a solid, sucked-in breath told you he had wrapped his palm around his hardened cock. His opposite hand twitched, more dominant than the other and veering to contribute to your own sexual desires at the same time as his own. Even with implied rules, he still had work-arounds.

He had control of you, and your hand was no longer your own. The distraction of the man’s deep voice and breathless groans in your ears had taken your attention for as long as it took him to leave himself and find you, and more so—gain control of an entire limb.

“Oh—” The word was another sigh, but a content one. “Why haven’t you done this before?”

“You have no knowledge of my kind enough, do you?” The sentence was snarky, but Changbin was telling the truth. “Consent has to be made, even for us from the underworld, baby.”

Your fingertips moved slowly, pressing deep prints into your most sensitive bits before finding where you throbbed and begged to be filled. It was the instilled breath in your ears, the hard thumping of your own heartbeat, and the sensation of taking two knuckles in that made your back arch into your mattress.

“How long have you wanted to feel this?”

Even from multiple feet away, you could see the smirk on Changbin’s lips. The one-sided lift, sharp teeth shining between the plump border, and a gentle suck between the gaps for oxygen to fill his lungs. Tight chest puffed, nostrils flared, strong arms tense, and hair matted against his sweaty forehead—with your eyes shut, you could see him perfectly. Imagery brought him to your mind—for you to see him and him to see you through his powers. His eyes were brighter than usual as he blinked, tongue panting from between his smirking smile as he watched you writhing from his controlled motions. His pre-licked palm gave him friction that had his lower body jolting every time it went up and down his own length, unsteady groans in your ears.

“Feel my fingers inside of you, fucking you like this?” Although they were your own, there was a tightness around the imaginary thick fingers of your roommates.

“Please—” You were breathless, watching him only enjoy what was playing out. You could even smell his cologne in your nose, the light shampoo washed and rinsed through his locks, and the heavy musk of a man losing himself to natural reactions.

“Please?” Your fingers moved, pressing in deeper until you felt them bunch and curl. A loud whine left from your mouth, your opposite hand held against the soft mattress with a force and unable to catch the sound from bouncing around the room.

Repeated actions, and your body was shaking towards one of the hardest orgasms you had yet to have before. Such a small motion for such a large response, Changbin’s eyes shut in tandem with your release coating his fingers from afar; all at the same time that he let go of himself without an orgasm.

A growing smile on his face, your eyes shut tight before opening wide to find the man through blurred vision; to see his skin nearly glowing with enjoyment. His fingers rose into the air, and what should be strings of your orgasm and the remaining saliva he had licked on them falling down towards his palm was nothing but bone dry skin. The scent of sex in the air, his shirtless torso swelled with another deep breath as he leveled his head with yours and placed a kiss to your forehead.

“How long have you waited for that?” You knew what Changbin was before he even mentioned it. It was wrong to admit you didn’t think he wouldn't not notice the growing desire in your gut, your paired roommates' sexual ways arousing you from the start.

“That depends on what you do next.”

Your eyes shut for a blink, the man’s heavy form hovering over you removed in an instant until all of your senses could no longer pick him up. Tired lids allowing your sight to see around you, the blankets over your form made your brows crease in confusion until the knob of your bedroom door jiggled and opened.

“Have a nice dream?” Changbin asked, a wicked look on his face and a perfectly noticeable form of his boner in his sweatpants throbbing. “I can only do so much—” Your sleeping form had been pleasured, but your awakened frame still shivered at the idea of him finishing what he started. “—but I think it could be worth your while.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

© copyright bearseungmin 2021. all rights are reserved. do not modify, repost, or translate without my permission. please.

#straykidsland #prism.nsfw #fkp-net #skz smut #stray kids smut #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #mature #drabble: a new direction #tw somnophilia #bearseungmin.kinktober.2021 #bearseungmin.drabbles

[bearseungmin]

[ stuck in the moment. ] — with jisung's heat beginning in the midst of a movie premiere date, you're left to care for him however you can. but with sweat and scents in the air, the task becomes a little more difficult than either of you could have anticipated.

rating: mature! pairing: werewolf! jisung x human! gender-neutral! reader genre: werewolf! au, smut, supernatural word count: 1.2k [warnings]: mature content, sexual content, public sex (exhibitionism), self-lubrication, handjob, mentions of blood do not interact with this if you are under 18.

— kinktober 2021 masterlist

The crowd had forced you to collide, a soft scent of your hair in his nostrils adding to the sweat on the back of his neck. Horror movie night, the full-house sounded louder in his ears as his fingers tightened between yours.

"I don't need to remind you that we can leave at any time, right?" You claimed in his ear, your voice already beginning to settle the chills forming on his skin.

"It's alright. We've been waiting months for this movie premiere."

"But tonight—"

His voice was the calmest it had been, not a single shake or shudder heard from the warm blow of his breath against the shell of your ear. "I know what today is."

You had watched the sun set in the brushes of yellow, orange, and red as you pushed through the doors along the lines for tickets. Saw purple and pink take over the rays along the patterned carpet from the floor to ceiling windows as you gathered snacks. And once darkness had taken over outside, stars igniting small beams that your eyes could no longer see from inside, you both took your side-by-side seats in the packed theater.

Even with the trailers of other films playing to gather your attention to the screen, you caught Jisung's nose flaring in your peripheral vision. You watched him tilt his head back and suck in a deep breath before his chest stuttered, releasing the same breath. His eyes reopened in tandem with his blown pupils matching your own, his panting tongue poking from between his lips.

"Why did you wear that scent?" His voice was low, low enough for only you to hear as everyone around lightly chattered.

"I didn't put on anything." Your head tilted to the side, brow raised at him mimicking the same motion to breathe you in, only closer.

"Then it is just my senses."

His senses: the ones blown out of proportion. Strong and bewildered, he could smell the arousal growing between your legs even if you were miles from him. He could catch anything you did, an animalistic instinct—his natural time occurring; a heat forming in his body.

He released a huff, a growl at the very last bit. The popcorn bowl in his lap couldn't cover the heavy scents in his nose, and was just enough pressure to his cock to make him bite down on his bottom lip.

You knew before you left what was bound to happen. Midnight was upon the two of you then, his form growing thicker beneath his clothing. Even with baggy fabric, you could still see him growing. His chest was tighter, arms taunt like he had been working out all day, veins more noticeable under his skin, and most of all: the hardness of his boner through his sweats.

The eruption of the speakers telling of the theater rules was enough to jolt you in your seat, eyes once fixed on the lower-half of the man now finding yourself shivering in your own seat. Dimming lights made your breathing stutter, everyone quieting down but the blaring of the movie beginning recovering the heavy pants of Jisung beside you.

He was fighting it, you knew. The first hours where his instincts to fuck are the most important, where his head puts him and what he wants to do with the dirty thoughts. All of that building up as the movie clocked on. Ten minutes in, his hand moving to your thigh to give it a squeeze—he was breaking.

"P-Please. I thought I could—"

"I know." Your whisper was just enough for him to feel the heat of your breath against the skin of his neck, his front teeth biting into his bottom lip nearly drawing blood from the force alone.

"Do something." It wasn't something you could just let boil over, the man beside you was only dealing with what he was made to do. Create more of himself, dog-like instincts aren't dismissible.

His words; a demand.

From anyone else's eyes, you were merely dipping your hand into the popcorn bowl. Surging through the snacks for something specific, no one had paid enough attention to what you had poured in prior. It was a safety tactic—the bowl in his lap—that would now be your savior as your fingers undid the bow-tied strings of his sweats.

You could already feel the heat coming off his skin, like your own personal heater on the cold night and even colder theater. But as your hand pressed inside his boxers, ushered towards his rock hard cock, and took hold of where he needed to be touched most—you felt the fire of his passionate time of the year.

His need, the frustration in his brow, and the breaths rushing from between his plump lips every time your hand made it to the base of him. Light touches to get him started, to not force him to act upon whatever dirty thoughts were playing in his mind out of his own accord. His jaw clenched, the width of your wrist being enclosed by his hand.

A climax in the movie already, minutes passed for you like seconds—but for Jisung, the poor boy would suffer minutes like weeks until he could finally push himself into you and fuck you into oblivion.

He needed it—so badly. But from this stance, his hand holding tightly around your wrist, he only had to make use of you from what he could touch in such a risky space.

The smallest jolt added to your wrist, enough to make your hand hold tighter out of surprise, and Jisung began to shake.

The first touch to him—when his sensitivity is on high—anything could make him cum.

But your hand, the lines in your palm oh so familiar to him, was enough to have him leaking precum onto your fingers as you continued to go up and down his shaft.

The roughness, a dry handjob making him leak arousal and add to the motions. He gave himself lube, his abdomen sucking in from the feeling of your hand taking what he gave you and using it to your advantage. A slight sound to getting him off now, the popcorn rustled in the bowl to dismiss any wondering eyes of curiosity to the noisy situation.

You could hear him panting harder, the person on the other side of his seat not giving either of you the time of day. Doing something so dirty in such a casual way, and no one was even paying attention.

Which gave you just the right timing to poke at his most sensitive spot, a vein pulsing beneath your thumb and surging pressure and pleasure to his nerves. You heard him hiccup before the heat of his cum rushed into your hand, heard his panting shutter and begin to slow, and listened to him gasp as you only enclosed your hand around him a second time.

"Still have the last half of the movie, you know." You grinned, eyes now glued to the screen as he whimpered. "Then we'll be home."

Sweat coated his body like he had been running, his pupils almost swallowing the whites of his eyes as his canines barely poked from between his teeth. Every muscle in his body flexing, his hips lightly rutting up into your hand. Jisung could hardly even make out a few words.

"A little while longer—" He grunted. "—and we'll be in the car."

Your eyes matched once more, his cock just as hard as when you began; and would be for hours more.

"If we even make it that far."

© copyright bearseungmin 2021. all rights are reserved. do not modify, repost, or translate without my permission. please.

#straykidsland #prism.nsfw #fkp-net #stray kids smut #skz smut #jisung smut #han jisung smut #mature #drabble: stuck in the moment #tw exhibitionism #bearseungmin.kinktober.2021 #bearseungmin.drabbles

[bearseungmin]

[ glistening. ] — his different world finally pulls you into it. but when sparkles from his own body collect on yours, jeongin can't get enough of how you look. 

rating: mature! pairing: siren! jeongin x human! gender-neutral! reader  genre: siren! au, smut, supernatural word count: 1.3k [warnings]: mature content, sexual content, marking kink, intercourse in water, slight possessiveness, unprotected sex please note!: this drabble was originally from my main writing blog, but i have taken it and re-vamped it (much like minho's kinktober drabble) because it fits the theme! do not interact with this if you are under 18.

— kinktober 2021 masterlist

The cavern was welcoming, the moon outside breaking through the cracks in the rocks. A pool of water in the middle of the space, Jeongin’s eyes settled on the one place he felt safest. Now welcoming in you—the person that has his heart. Your body thumped with wonder at just how the situation would pan out, blue light from the moon hitting the rushing sea allowing you to see the secret he hid from you for so long.

His head turned towards you, eyes pleading and leery as his hand rose over the pool of salted water around him. Foam from the constantly moving waters outside of the cave sweltered in, covering his lower half and what you anticipated since he asked you to join him here. “Are you sure about this?” His voice nearly stuttered at your hesitated but significant nod. “What will it change?”

“Absolutely nothing.” You breathed out, almost laughing at how blown his pupils had grown.

The man’s eyes shut tight, frame lining up just before the edge of the rocks. Bracing himself, his body swayed through the foam in the blink of an eye, a line drawn where his tail dragged through it and followed him down. Diving deeper into the heated water, his body seemed to submerge so far in that your human sight could no longer see him: but his bright tail shimmered in the moonlight.

You stood in astonishment, the things he told you ringing in your mind. Scales, fins, and gills—the basin igniting with steamed water had you bending your knees to get a closer look. Jeongin's body didn't quite need the oxygen he sucked in as he came back up from the water, sight of your stunned form making him blink innocently. Finding the time of the moon at its peak to be the perfect moment of fulfillment, you could only release a heavy sigh of relief.

"You called it a curse." The moving water splashed against the rocks before it halted in one abrupt motion, cooling and returning to the turquoise color it was originally before he delved down deep.

His tail was illuminated, the abraded black and colored scales flaring from the salty water startling you but gifting you chills that would bring him in closer to you.

Even in the darkness of the cave you could see the ridges on his sides, his abdomen carved with the ripples of a fish. Dark hair floating with the water as only his eyes poked out from the warm liquid all around him, you tilted your head at him.

"But I only see you.” Voice faulted, his smile gleamed in the blue moonlight. His head lifted for the water line to be at his chin, mouth opening as his teeth clamped down on his tongue. “I'm just—curious.”

“Do you want to touch me?”

Your eyes grew wide at his question, his innocent eyes paired with his gleaming smirk causing a spark to rush through your limbs. The anxious feeling boiling in your gut was enough to have his torso leaning him forward, a single pulse of his tail bringing him to the edge of the rocks where you sat. He blinked gently up at you, the sparkles along his skin telling that he wasn’t exactly human beneath the moon and within the ocean waters—but he was still himself.

His hands lifted from the water, small drops still holding onto his plump skin as the air blew against the limb. His palms met the back of your shoes to pull them and your socks off. Tossing them to the side, as he smiled up at you. Hand cupping and grabbing at your ankles, he lunged you forward, chest pressed against your knees.

Hands still trapping your ankles, his hold swiveled around to the front of your legs, palms hot against your skin. You moved so slowly, raising your hand into the air like a touch to the man would make him turn to dust. His eyes rolled, smirk becoming more extravagant. He had touched you in more ways than one, balanced by your own needs, and here you were—too afraid to even place a finger on his skin.

“Wh-What if-” you stuttered. “What if I rub off some of the sparkles? Will it hurt—like when you rub a lizard too hard or something?”

“Not at all.” He cackled with the tone of his voice getting deeper, a delightful smile on his lips. Curtain bangs falling over his eyes, his fingers surged into the long locks, pressing them back against his head as the salt of the water adhered the strands to his mane. “Just touch me. I don’t bite.”

“Yes you do.” You whispered beneath your breath. The man tapped at your knee for you to get your mind out of the gutter, his own eyes clouded with lust as your palm met his cheek.

“See—no harm done.” He breathed out slowly, sides growing skinny with the intake before his cooled breath fanned your thighs.

You laughed gently, running the pad of your thumb across his face. Your eyes squinted, pulling your hand back to see the amount of glitter that had transferred from his skin to your own.

All while you were distracted, his large hands against your skin made his sight capture something wondrous and new to him.

His eyes wondered the exposed limbs of your form, pupils narrowed at the small specks cascading your skin. A marking on himself from the fabrics of the sea, crystals from rocks broken down by the salt that helped create a shine to his scales now left the pattern on your own body. The moonlight only gave them more power, skin reflecting in all directions from the access on his scales now collected on your skin. Each limb now shined just like himself, almost making you appear the same as him.

Hands toying with your ankles, your thighs were aligned with his face, his grasp leaving your lower legs to hold onto your outer thighs. Without missing a beat, you already knew what he was up to—the man enclosing his glistening face with your legs as he breathed you in. His tail lightly thrashed underneath the water, the bubbles regaining as his eyes peered up at you through his long lashes, an innocent look on his face.

"The look of me on you," You watched his eyes darken with the dullness in his voice, too captured by your body now to notice how tense his body had grown. "—I want it to stay there."

The jagged rocks all around didn't give him any discomfort as he rushed from the water and pulled you in, two-legged limbs returning to his form as his lower-half fell just where he wanted you. "To never wash away."

Arousal growing and tension tightening, it didn't take the science of exchange to tell you that Jeongin seeing the glitter from his own scales on you made him crave you even more. It had never wandered in his mind, and as you felt him press a kiss to your neck as you nodded frantically at the feeling of his head at your entrance—it was only relief filling you to feel him stretching your walls.

Your chest rose with every heavy pant, his pull and push of short thrusts only helping the specks of his skin rub onto your skin more. Gasping at his strong hold, his hips pressed against yours as you felt him deep within you.

"If I make you cum—" He sucked in another unnecessary breath, chills growing across your skin making him throb inside of you. "—will you promise not to wash any of it off for a while?"

The blue light had become blinding, his cock held within you as it swelled and bucked with his uncontrolled hips making your body beg for a release. Water thrashing with every small movement, the rough panting of your breaths made it harder to hear your own response. His wet hair had dried slightly, short waves to the locks as your fingers ran through them, arms clinging to his shoulders for support in the hot water.

"Depends on if we do this again—outside of the water so they really stick."

© copyright bearseungmin 2021. all rights are reserved. do not modify, repost, or translate without my permission. please.

#straykidsland #prism.nsfw #fkp-net #stray kids smut #skz smut #jeongin smut #yang jeongin smut #mature #drabble: glistening #tw marking #tw possessiveness #bearseungmin.kinktober.2021 #bearseungmin.drabbles

[bearseungmin]

[ epitaph. ] — trounced from the warlock your heart’s attached to, minho’s powers have a benefitting way of putting you into the future to increase your experiences.

rating: mature! pairing: warlock! minho x gender-neutral! reader genre: warlock! au, supernatural! au, smut word count: 1.3k [warnings]: jumps back and forth a lot (on purpose), biting/marking, hickies, heavy teasing, oral (reader! receiving), praise kink, doggy-style, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of combat + dimension shifting A/N: my best friend explained to me that in the anime jojo they use epitaph as a way to see ten seconds into the future so i got inspired to write this. thank you dino ily. also, this was a drabble from last year! it’s just been revamped because (it needed it) it fits my kinktober concept! do not interact with this if you are under 18.

— kinktober 2021 masterlist

Panting frantically with your lips pressed roughly against his, his teeth nearly broke the skin of your mouth with a gnawing bite. A moan vibrating into the kiss, his body only retreated away from you for a moment to slip the handles of your bags into his palms.

Lifting to put them on the counter, his opposite hand guided you down the hall towards your bedroom, tracing your back with his fingertips.

The sudden sound of birds drew your attention back to your reality as you walked up the pathway towards the home, not at all inside or with Minho just yet. Your frantic eyes peered around you, taking in the encompassing space like it was otherworldly and not the same as what you had been walking through for more than a matter of minutes now. The man’s eccentric tricks always had you on edge, wondering in what part of time your next breath would be in, where you would be and doing what actions, and most importantly: understanding the point he was making through the ploys up his sleeve. Minho, the warlock who had long taken your heart, used you as his best trick of all.

Minho was impatient, waiting for you as he occupied himself with small tasks like refilling his flasks and cutting up some ingredients. He didn’t want to leave the comfort of the home just yet, having watched you disappear outside with big eyes and empty bags.

The time wasn’t right, his powers were too dull to protect himself after his last battle. In a dimension where those with capabilities unlike humans were considered dangerous enough to be separated and have their own space to live, constant strife was always taking place. Minho had to be strong enough to go out that door and control what he could—to keep you safe, his very own human now the first to be housed inside the unusual community. He never considered how well you’d be off, even on your own from time to time.

You had been handling things well, caring for him as he healed until he was almost fully recovered. But the worry of another clashing combat caused him to salvage all he could and stay inside. The hatred he had for staying in the small cottage alone was nothing like you had witnessed before, his stir-crazy expression evident even through the small panes of the kitchen’s door as you walked across the stones towards the home.

Enthralled by the warlock, you had to admit he had power over you even if it wasn’t intended. Since the first time you touched—when he claimed you as his own, you were able to see the future. A small bit that made a large difference, you always knew what he needed, wanted, and imagined. It was an omnipotent skill to gain.

The moment his hand jiggled the doorknob, you knew what was going to happen. Your bags lightly dropped to the ground, his lips overlapping yours as his teeth nibbled against your lips. In a single blink, his hand was at your lower back guiding you towards the hallway.

The bags were disposed onto the counter without a care for any particular items that might need to be stored in a specific temperature. His lips urged another kiss from you as the walls sped by, the soft impression of your bedroom all around. Your back sunk into the mattress, the weight of his body protruding over yours heavily.

His silked lips and pearled teeth left your face to taste the skin of your neck. Light sounds of his name ricocheted in your throat but were imbricated by his louder groans, his hips grinding down into you in search of friction. The cold temperatures of the glasses of potions held in his hands all day were still mirrored into his touch, his frigid palms running along your hot skin to lift your shirt from your body.

The feeling of his tongue running a hot streak across your chest brought your mind to run fast into time, a new feeling cascading every nerve of your body. His tongue thrashed at your arousal, your hands cupped over your mouth to keep from screaming. You could feel your legs shaking around his head, his fingers toying with the spots his tongue couldn’t get to.

Lucidity reared you backwards again, his digits just now toying with your bottoms and underwear to pull them off your limbs and discard them onto the floor. His eyes wavered over your body, matching with your pupils. His were blown in proportion to your own, the unnaturally colored specks reading that his supernatural soul knew what you had experienced, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

“You’ve done so well for me today.” Minho’s awareness spiked the process of the universe, toying with his own abilities by dragging the pads of his fingers up and down your thighs in a painfully slow way. His voice soft and aspiring, your whine and the light thrash of your legs under his touch made him apply pressure. “Ah—ah, patience baby. You’ll get what you deserve in time.”

The force of his arms pressing your legs into the edge of the mattress reaped a groan from you, his lips playfully running across where you needed him most. Hips bucking, he continued to play with time—with what you witnessed in the flash of the future. The single wink of his eye being the only warning he gave you before his tongue finally delved between your legs.

You couldn’t release any noise to express the pleasure you were receiving, his tongue lapping at your body like a dog drinking water. His hands clamped around the outside of your thighs, pulling you closer to run his tongue in all directions and give harsh sucks to places that had you seeing spots. Your eyes shut tight, another premonition floating you into the future.

Your front was meshed into the covers of the bed, his hips rutting against your ass as his voice filled your ears. The sound of skin slapping echoed along the walls, the feeling of him pushing into you so realistic that your fingers had to grip the comforter just to keep yourself stable. The bed thrashed beneath his hard pace, one of his hands on your hips turning your head for his mouth to connect to your ear.

“Where are you right now?” He grinned in your peripheral, your eyes blinking and staring straight in thought. A single snap of his hips made your body shudder, Minho’s teeth sucking at your neck as he lightly whimpered from the clench you had around his cock.

Filling you to the brim, a wave of relief ran over your body, his fingers lacing with yours from behind as your orgasm hit you hard. Shivering from the cold air, he slowly pulled out of you, turning you to lie on your back and stare up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” He called out, your eyes tired and lids heavy. Gaze falling down, his head lifted from between your thighs, blinking innocently as your arousal dripped past his chin. A darker smirk grew, your brows knitting at the sight of him still between your legs and not hovering over you as he did seconds before. Your hand lifted to your neck, the love bite he had sucked into your skin not yet made.

You watched as his bottom lip sunk between his teeth, eyeing you up and down before meeting your gaze. “We’re not quite there yet, baby.” His grin was cheshire, enjoying the way you looked so lost yet found. No matter how much he twisted your mind and messed with your comprehension, he always knew how to push your buttons even better. “Don’t get so far ahead of me.”

© copyright bearseungmin 2021. all rights are reserved. do not modify, repost, or translate without my permission. please.

#straykidsland #prism.nsfw #fkp-net #stray kids smut #skz smut #minho smut #lee minho smut #mature #drabble: epitaph #tw marking #tw teasing #tw combat #tw dimension shifting #bearseungmin.kinktober.2021 #bearseungmin.drabbles