#“Bones and all” anyone want to get matching tattoos with this saying

[wowifinallymadeanaccount]

SO WHY IS WILL JUST SUDDENLY SO CASUAL ABOUT THIS WHOLE CANNIBALISM THING I MEAN I KNOW I WAS BUT HANNIBAL IS VERY HOT- oh yeah okay I get it now.

Alright I'm getting the bone homies matching shirts that say 'If you can't eat em, Join em'!"

[webism]

pornstar!sukuna who has a niche for the dark and dangerous, he only accepts shoots that cater to his more… intense nature—ropes and chains and gags and rigs beyond the regular bedroom scenes.

pornstar!sukuna who works with many other actors and actresses. he's demeaned and degraded more people for a pay check than he can count, but his favourite is you. you’re not so easy to break, which he likes—plus, videos in which you bite back make double the profit.

pornstar!sukuna who is easy to agree when you call him one night asking for a favour. you were meant to do a camshow with another pornstar when he cancelled last minute—and you know people are excited for this one, if you don’t want to miss out on a paycheck you’d need to find a quick replacement.

pornstar!sukuna who is expecting a homemade bd/sm rig to greet him when he walks into your home that night.

pornstar!sukuna who isn’t expecting a bed with a pink duvet and matching fluffy pink handcuffs hanging from your headboard. it’s cute, he thinks—he can picture the scene, you laid out and fucked like a whore in pink. he’s eager, until you tell him the handcuffs aren’t for you, but for him.

pornstar!sukuna who is about ready to walk out, to tell you off for even assuming he’d do such things on camera, that he'd ruin his crafted image of this sadistic figurehead for a camshow of all things.

pornstar!sukuna who just can't say no and turn on his heels, not when you look up at him like that, your pretty eyes just too convincing. He's seen you fucked out and stupidly cockdrunk before, he knows what you look like when you submit wholly to him, and though it's a beautiful sight—one of his favourites—he can't deny that he's intrigued to know how you look through his eyes when they're glossed with desperate pleasure.

pornstar!sukuna, the notorious dominant, who loads up on thousands. of peoples screens handcuffed to a pink bed. Everything pink: the cuffs, the sheets, his mussed hair, the pretty blush that paints the bridge of his nose, the leaky tip of his cock as you stroke it, your nails painted pink to match.

pornstar!sukuna who growls when people start tipping each time he gets close to cumming. who looks so insanely out of place, big and imposing and so covered in tattoos that even his ridiculous length has been inked to an extent, all needy and growing all the more desperate as you keep denying him his orgasm. wrists chained to your wooden headboard, his muscles ache with the temptation of breaking free.

pornstar!sukuna who can't help but wonder if his life has been flipped on its head when you start praising him and he moans at your words alone. Who, for all his life has gotten off on inflicting the worst onto others, and can now feel the most powerful orgasm of his life cresting when those narcotic words spill from your lips. "doing so well for me, god you look good like this, sukuna."

pornstar!sukuna who can only hold on for so long before his taut-pulled patience snaps and burns on impact. so when he's watching himself through the display of your laptop, cock red and angry as it leaks in need at your denial of his orgasm again, he snaps.

pornstar!sukuna who breaks your handcuffs with one pull, and has you flipped over and taking his mean cock in less time than it takes you to process his movements. who is glad you were enjoying torturing him, because you're so wet that the stretch of his cock is only searingly painful and you're not pushed to tears... this time.

pornstar!sukuna who fucks you mindless for toying with him for so long. for airing out a side of him that is weak in the bones for you, and plastering it on the internet for anyone to see. he bullies his cock into you, mean and unrelenting—yet whispers the sweetest of nothings into your ear as he does so, low enough that your mic can't pick up on them—your ears only.

pornstar!sukuna who kisses you when he cums. his lip piercing cold against your lips, your legs shaking in desperate need for mercy as he paints your insides white.

pornstar!sukuna who laughs when you, in your cum-drunk haze, try to reach for your laptop to turn off the camshow.

pornstar!sukuna who promises your now-doubled viewer count that the stream won't end until you've come ten times on his cock—he's going to make an example out of you.

[helluva-shit-show]

I swear I don't hate the show, I don't even hate any of the ladies above, not even Stella, it's just insanely unfair how the women get treated in Helluva.

And no, I don't need the creators of any given media to hold my hand and walk me through every tiny choice made by every character in said media.

Of course I can infer that Stella grew up in the same pre-determined mold Stolas was forced into. Of course I can infer that she learned tantrum behavior and violence probably got her what she wanted so her royal parents didn't have to hear it.

I can infer that Barbie self harms bc a tiny thin scar doesn't form a perfect circle around your forearm by accident, and an "X" doesn't perfectly cross out a tattoo that probably causes you great trauma to look at every day, on accident. Her tail scars are deeply concerning and saddening to think about, bc again, why do they PERFECTLY match her twin brother's natural markings? I can infer that his actions, intentional or not, deeply traumatized her, and her response was to remove a piece of herself that reminded her of him. It's dark, it's mature, it's compelling and it makes sense. The issue is, it will probably never be touched on.

I adore Millie, I adored her before season two was even announced. To the contrary, I actually don't care if she ever gets a deep deep dive at her backstory. There have been PLENTY of male characters across all kinds of media that are simply psychotic little murder gremlins, and no one ever bats an eye at it. I adore her as the murder gremlin queen she is. But as she's main cast, it's incredibly unfair by comparison how she gets utilized and how she doesn't. One minute she can take down a 60 meter tall fish monster single handedly, the next minute, because the plot wants this to be about the bois, a single hit breaks her arm to the point that BONE IS PIERCING THROUGH HER SKIN, and she just happens to get thrown directly into the world's MOST CONVENIENTLY PLACED AND ARMED bear-trap ever. It doesn't snag her face, her hair, or her hand or arm or torso or back, she falls just perfectly that her leg is just perfectly in its jaws. No arteries got caught? There's not an excess of blood, she's by the show's own dialogue, "fine." But she's benched for the rest of the episode.

And maybe it wouldn't be so bad from the critical eye if the excuse given for it wasn't SO hollow. "Helluva is more male focused and Hazbin is more female focused." Ma'am. Who do you think you're fooling out here. Angel Dust and Alastor built the HH fandom. Do you expect me to believe Mimzy or Niffty are going to be treated any better than the Helluva gals? Mimzy is literally already on the wiki as a "minor character".

It's truly ok to focus your story on males. There is literally a whole genre of anime focused on mostly male stories. But if someone, or a lot of someones, feel your female cast is lacking in substance, I find it insulting to dismiss them and say they're misreading the media and nitpicking. They care about the show, YOUR show, they care about YOUR characters, if you can remember back when you were a smaller creator HERE on tumblr, ppl love when you ask them about their OCs. And you don't have to spit out a quick bs backstory to your character if you haven't given it much thought, that's not what anyone is asking for. (Cough, Unhappy Campers, COUGH).

Idk how to wrap this critique up, so I'm just gonna say, Moxxie's mom is too badass to be Mrs. Knofirstname Knolastname. 🤡

[gatorlovebot]

I’m thinking of Simon getting a tattoo or two for you. He know you’re his end game, the only person he will ever truly love like this so why not brand you into his skin? He can’t get your face or name tattooed for obvious reasons, but he has some other ideas. Your kiss mark right under his pubes to show your ownership of his cock, but also hidden from anyone. He might have you bite hard enough to break skin and get the canine marks tattooed, easy enough to be played off as him playing into the undead schtick he has going on in the rare case his neck is exposed, but also makes him think of claiming bites and gets him hard. Maybe a grave over his heart because he thought his heart was cold and dead yet you revived it, and everyone knows that ghosts belong with graves. Maybe a matching red ring around the base of his pinkie with you, a tease at the red string of fate? -🐶

oh nonnie, your brain is so big and juicy. my brain short circuited a little bit at the kiss mark idea, because i never thought of owning his cock, but now i’ll never stop thinking about it.

i think that simon got most of his tattoos young and honestly didn’t put that much thought into them. they’re mostly guns and skulls, very normal (cliche) things for an emo military man like himself to get. but he starts thinking about getting more tattoos when you two get together.

he views marking his skin as an act of devotion, which is why he absolutely melts when you get a ghost and a dog bone tattooed over your heart for him.

the miss mark idea comes to him when he gets home from a mission. he’s still in human space when you splay him out across your bed and take his cock into your mouth. he doesn’t even really care about cumming, he just wants you close. his mind starts to slow down as he watches you press kisses all along his crotch, burying your nose in his pubes.

a few days later he sheepishly asks you to kiss a napkin for you to leave a lipstick stain of your lips. he just says it’s a surprise when you ask why. you’re absolutely floored when he comes home days later and shows you a kiss mark tattooed at the base of his cock. he blushes when you ask him the meaning, “well, it’s your’s”.

and the bite mark works for both human simon and puppy simon. human simon loves to be at your mercy and while you don’t like to get too rough with him, you’ll indulge him a little painful bite here and then. but puppy simon looooves when you bite back. when you guys playfight he loves it when you finally get him on his back and get your teeth on his throat, showing your dominance over him, makes his puppy cock leak.

and the red string of fate <3 what’s there even to say? he’s your’s, forever and ever.

[bitebitbonebare]

God fucking dammit I'm genuinely losing my fucking shit.

I wonder if he'd put up a fight. I wonder if I would have to hold him down myself, knee against his neck, to tie his hands behind his back. I wonder what curses I'd wring from him through this, if he'd gnash his teeth and threaten me with his face pressed into the concrete floor. Would I need to get his feet too? Kicking and swinging, trying to get away-- oh and what if he screams? Yelling for help, would I need to silence him? Keep him from biting? Do you muzzle someone like this? Do you keep them from saying anything-- what happens when I kick the breath out of him?

I's stand above him, my boot pressed against his cheek-- I hated the concrete floors until now and I think I how they shine with his spit as he bared his teeth.

How careful would I need to be to make sure he was the only one to know he was bested? How badly does he want to feel this days from this moment-- how badly do I want him to feel it? Better yet, I know that he would rather there not be a later to feel, I think he's imagined death like this in great detail when he found himself at my mercy.

What tools would I have at my disposal? I wonder how much a tazer costs. I wonder if I could figure out a way to hit him in such a way he briefly loses consciousness. I wonder if I could choke him until he sees those black stars.

Could I press my knee into his throat while I tried something new-- could I put out a little match on his ribs? He complained of the pain on of a rib tattoo but what if I could methodically burn a scar on the other side, or as a lovely accent? He wanted to be an unflinching and incredibly willing victim to someone's cigarette shoved into him. This should be nothing then, right? Right?

What could I use to leave creative bruises on him-- I often weild a cane, don't I? What would shards of a broken mirror look like dug into his legs? I wonder how carefully I could etch something into his skin. He's let me tattoo him before anyway, what's different about a knife then?

I wouldnt want to keep him on the floor I don't think. Would I be able to hurt him while his sits on his knees-- his bones digging into concrete, he's so proud of how small he is, nearly just bones anyway, sharp and sharp feeling in his own skin.

Oh! What if, in kicking him, it's hard enough to make him vomit? Do you think he'd do that just for me? Well I think he'd do it for anyone who hit him in that specific way, but in that moment I think I'd revel in knowing that I was the cause.

Do you think he'd need to be told that maybe it's a little pathetic to want to be hurt this way? Granted, I think it was a bit absurd for me to tell him that I wanted to beat him this way, but for him to respond in this way? I think I might have known the answer when he resisted the urge to flee. I'd have plenty of words for him if he would like them.

Oh! He also proudly announced how fast he was! Oh I'm quite happy for him. So proud. Makes me wish I could set him loose in a forest with traps-- oh a daydream for another post, maybe not for him.

He is acutely aware of how inpatient I can be. I wonder if he'd taunt me to give up how much I'd want to relish this. That I want this just as much as he does, but I want it to last. I want to take my time, I want to commit every moment to memory, I want to write something about this that he might stumble upon-- or I offer up enthusiastically and just for "critique" not as if I wanted him to remember the ache of it all, this would live on in his mind too, after all.

Oh, hah. Even better. If I'm careful, I could keep him exactly where I want him and get a recording of the entire thing. I don't care to know what he would do with footage like that.

I'm tempted by the idea to bite. I think biting would be my preferred means to draw blood. I could consider something else though. Either way I think I'd like to stain something or his as a souvenir. Wouldn't that be just so thoughtful of me?

Good fucking god the whole idea makes me dizzy. Does he know how excited I am? How caring I would be about it all-- not too caring that I'd be scared to hurt him, no-- but caring in the way that I want nothing more than to make him feel it, just how he wants. It's not just for him.

It's not just for him.

[mvgcs]

they say icarus flew too close to the sun with his waxen wings causing his poetic downfall ; growing up on stories of familial tragedy leaving behind a legacy that’s too big for you to fill, telling half-truths and bold lies in the need to live another day ; the intrinsic grip that survival has on your soul blurs the lines between living the life you know and the life you want, a deepset feeling in your bones that war is a game of never-ending chess ; but there’s a match dangling from your fingertips about to set fire to the board, torn between a sea of golden righteousness and the shadowy depths of despair ; because what if icarus jumped instead - what if he never fell at all?

personal.

full name: arista neveah mckinnon

nickname/s: Twin 1 (... anyone who cant even tell the diff between them smh), ari, rizz (bc ngl. she has so so much of it<3), m, mckinnon,

age: twenty five

birthday: i will get back to u

gender & pronouns: cis woman, she/her

sexuality: bisexual

relationship status: single

aesthetic & personality.

positive traits: adaptable, perceptive, determined, independent

negative traits: self preserved, elusive, stubborn, manipulative

hobbies: god. no one wants to know.

health: anxiety, bouts of paranoia

scars/tattoos: she probably has matching tattoos w her besties . her order ones. prob not her de friends . unless....

character parallels: peter pettigrew (iykyk), i am blanking on others will come back 2 this

magic.

patronus: a lynx.

boggart: heights conveniently !! seeing as she's climbing higher n higher to no return

wand type: tba. something cool

occupation: girly works in a potion shop on knockturn probably. to keep up w her de appearance. and !! she needs fuckin money

affiliation: double agent for the order !! #go team

school & house: as she was a double agent, had gone to hogwarts instead. if they still had houses, or if she was sorted at scholomance, ari would have been a ravenclaw.

bio. kind of. tw mentions of parental & sibling death.

arista was born the oldest of the mckinnon twins - barely, but it counts, which she gladly reminds alanis of every chance she gets. the mckinnon's, since their tragic almost demise back before the first war ended, had become well-versed in infiltrating death eaters throughout the years, that by the time arista and alanis were born, there were already a few aunts and uncles embedded deep within the ranks of death eaters. could not tell you who they are though.

she was generally a soft girl, at least arista let everyone perceive her that way, it was easier to do what was expected of her than argue with her parents; even if half the time arista wanted to scream obscenities at the world and watch it burn. 

because of their skills in espionage and infiltration, the mckinnon's were considered fundamental to the order's foundation once going underground and it's remained that way ever since. while not well known; the deaths of her parents and brother at some point in her life had been a devastating blow, three deaths arista still carries around with her to this day. 

was sent into hogwarts with lorcan and her twin alanis to gather information through the children of prominent leaders in the death eater circle, arista always being one step ahead, had gained the attention of one certain blonde haired malfoy despite having loyalties to the other order aligned children in hogwarts ; with none other than her fast-paced wit and snappy attitude. fr she had no trouble calling out his ass for being wrong. 

at some point in her duration at hogwarts, it seemed her part of the infiltration plan had worked ; arista was slowly but surely feeding back tidbits of information back to the order, no matter how little it seemed. it seemed like their plan was working a little too well, perhaps. 

what wasn’t part of the plan was arista slowly pulling away from her twin sister and her best friend ; the two other people vital in their mission to succeed, however arista would constantly assure them that she was still theirs. arista wouldn’t ever leave her family - not after her parents death. right? 

after graduation, the friends and family arista had left behind were expecting her to come back, and yet she had stayed behind due to her being deeply undercover with scorpius’ and his friends - and in merlin’s sick twisted mind ; they had become her friends too. by this point arista was used to playing the best of both sides, growing comfortable in the way she teetered along the edge of good and evil.

studied potions extensively. is quite a natural at brewing and concocting new potions ; arista had to be good at something to be noticed. she's more known for her psychedelic potions, only known to those who need to know.

since graduation arista’s slowly been making her mark within the death eaters, but not enough so that her name would arouse suspicion within the order; arista still relays information… that’s been seemingly lackluster lately, but she’s still helping, right? anything for the order, right?

[leonsrightlations]

The Earth is Online Chapter 13

“Stowaways all have a very terrible scent on their bodies. The Black Tower hates stowaways the most, so I can get a lot of rewards for eating stowaways as well as enormous power. The meat of a stowaway is also particularly tasty. This is something I’ve never told anyone.”

The giant mole narrowed those tiny eyes, stomping the leftover turkey bones on the ground to pieces.

“There’s a vile stowaway among you seven. Bring them to me and I will eat them!”

Step by step, the big mole closed in on them.

The chef came to half-consciousness, raising his head just in time to catch sight of the big mole’s sharp claws. He shrieked in fright. The mole rushed at him, issuing a sharp cry, and the chef almost passed out in fear once more.

Tang Mo touched his wrist, but the match tattoo was already gone. According to the mole’s statement just now, the match could bring him through the second floor. That meant it definitely had some kind of use for the first floor as well. Tang Mo could sense that he hadn’t at all brought out the match’s full potential. He was only swinging it around ignorantly.

If he was given a bit more time and could attack the Black Tower a little bit later, he might have been able to more thoroughly prepare.

So why did he have to now attack the tower in advance!

The name of the stowaway who had opened the tower attack game flashed into Tang Mo’s mind, but there was no time to complain. He calmly asked, “Which one is the stowaway? How can we find and deliver them to you?”

Li Wen and Lin Qiao’s eyes widened at the same time and they looked toward Tang Mo.

Luo Fengcheng glanced at him and said nothing. The young woman, Peng Yu Wen’s complexion was pale as she watched Tang Mo, her eyes flickering. She seemed not to understand the meaning of his words.

Lin Qiao couldn’t help but say, “You really want to deliver them? This mole said it will eat that person…”

Tang Mo’s expression was cold as he asked rhetorically, “Then are you going to replace the stowaway and be its dinner?”

Lin Qiao’s words were choked off.

Luo Fengcheng’s faint voice sounded. “The stowaway is a murderer. [1] Maybe they had no choice but to kill. Maybe it was out of defense. The laws of the outside world might not sentence them to death, but the Black Tower has already given them the death penalty. We are only finding the stowaway. The other matter has nothing to do with us.”

Li Bin’s expression transformed and he nodded. “Yeah, that’s right… We only want to find out who the stowaway is, nothing more.”

The big mole laughed with a “ji ji.” “How should I know which one is the stowaway? My cave isn’t big enough and all of you humans have gathered together. The stowaway’s scent has drifted throughout the whole cave. I can’t find them. I’ll give you all an hour’s time to find that vile stowaway. I’ll eat one human for each hour you don’t find them. Then I must be able to eat the stowaway.” The big mole looked at Tang Mo. “Oh, that’s right. The relationship between you and Mosaic is very good. You even lent me a match… Then I’ll eat you last, okay?”

Tang Mo didn’t have much of a reaction to this favor.

The big mole looked at Tang Mo’s indifferent appearance and laughed, then went to the corner and began digging. It seemed to want to make its cave bigger by digging. It dug for a bit, then again turned its head. “Two minutes have already passed. Have you found the stowaway?”

Everyone listened to the big mole’s words, their heads covered in a cold sweat.

Li Bin glanced at everyone, then clenched his teeth and asked, “I’ll just ask once. During those three days’ time, have any of you…killed someone?”

Without question, everybody all shook their heads.

“I guessed it would be like this.“ Since they entered the cavern, the white collar elite held the appearance of their leader. There was no exception now. Li Bin forced himself to appear calm and began to analyze the situation. “The mole said that in those three days, the stowaway eliminated a player by way of murder. The stowaway definitely possesses an ability and they have a terrible scent on their body. I haven’t smelled this scent. Have any of you smelled it?”

Lin Qiao shook her head. “I haven’t. My sense of smell has always been very sharp. There’s only the scent of dirt here.”

Everybody all said they hadn’t. Li Bin’s complexion became unsightly. “Then maybe it’s a scent we humans can’t smell. Only they can smell it. How should we find the stowaway?”

Luo Fengcheng said, “The stowaway committed murder and has an ability.”

The chef had been unconscious for a long time, hadn’t heard any of the big mole’s PSA, [2] and couldn’t follow everyone’s rhythm. “Murder? Ability? Hold on, just what happened?”

Nobody had time to explain it to him.

Li Bin asked, “So what?”

The words had just fallen when Li Bin suddenly turned to look at Tang Mo. “You definitely have an ability!”

Tang Mo had just a moment ago drawn a big match out of thin air. This was definitely beyond human power. It was an ability.

Li Wen explained for Tang Mo, “The big mole said that among us seven, there are two official players, four reserve players, and a stowaway. The official players participated in an official Black Tower game to log in. Tang Mo should be an official player. He knows someone named Mosaic. The big mole knows that person, and they definitely also have something to do with the Black Tower game.”

Tang Mo said, “I really did come in by participating in a Black Tower game. Based on the big mole’s statement, I’m probably an official player.”

Li Bin still shook his head. “Before today, you really might have participated in a Black Tower game, but no one can guarantee that it was during those three days. Four days have now passed since the Black Tower announced that the Earth is online. Who can be sure that you didn’t play a game on the fourth day and murder someone during those three days?”

Tang Mo suddenly felt that it was a bit ridiculous. Just as he was about to retort, he heard Luo Fengcheng say, “He’s an official player. The Black Tower hates stowaways and stowaways have a scent on their body. If he isn’t an official player, then before he could see the big mole he certainly would have been discovered by Mosaic, the big mole’s companion. He wouldn’t have been able to survive until today, let alone get Mosaic’s match.”

Tang Mo looked at Luo Fengcheng in astonishment. The other also looked at him.

Neither of them spoke again and the others also understood.

Li Bin said, “That makes sense. There’s a ninety percent chance you really are an official player. There’s still a ten percent chance you’re a stowaway and previously used some kind of trick to conceal your scent so that you weren’t noticed by that Mosaic.”

He paused, then suddenly walked into the center of the seven people. He looked at them all seriously. “Right now, I’ll confess that I am the second official player.”

Tang Mo was a bit surprised.

Li Bin forced a smile and lifted his right hand. “My ability is very chicken ribs. [3] I don’t want to reveal too much about its specific capabilities, but in the current circumstances, it’s not much use at all. However, I can demonstrate my ability’s effect for you.”

Abilities were everyone’s secret and he could be forgiven for not wanting to reveal his.

They saw Li Bin crouch on the ground, reach out his right finger, and draw a circle on the ground. A smooth, flowing curve gradually appeared on the ground. It was an extremely precise circle and the final point fell exactly at the beginning point. From start to finish, it formed a perfect enclosed circle.

This was a circle that he had drawn out purely with his finger, no tool required.

Lin Qiao’s eyes widened. “So round? Your ability shouldn’t be ‘can draw circles without a compass,’ right?”

Can this be called an ability?

Tang Mo faintly frowned. “Although this circle is extremely well done, it definitely can’t prove that you have an ability. You might have studied art.”

Li Bin nodded. “Then watch again.”

They saw Li Bin reach out his finger and, next to the circle from before, he once again drew a circle. It came full circle [4], fully smooth and round. It was once again an exceedingly perfect circle.

“Ah! Isn’t this the same size as the circle from before!?” Lin Qiao said in alarm.

Li Bin wore a resigned expression. “What my specific ability is, I don’t want to say. But you should be convinced that I have an ability, right? I’m the remaining official player.”

“You…you have an ability. Why can’t you be the stowaway?” The young woman, Peng Yu Wen, stood behind Lin Qiao and spoke shyly, her complexion pale.

Li Bin said, “I took the initiative to come forward and say that I’m an official player. Could I still be the stowaway? Little friend, if I was the stowaway, I would certainly try to hide now, not let other people know that I have an ability. Right now, among the seven of us, only this younger brother [5] is safest.” He pointed at Tang Mo. “There’s an eighty or ninety percent chance he’s really an official player. The big mole said that reserve players might also possess abilities, but the probability is very low. We can just treat it like they don’t have any. In that case, the next person with an ability to appear had a fifty percent chance of being a stowaway.”

Li Bin earnestly analyzed, “Under these circumstances, I took the initiative to come forward and reveal to you all that I have an ability. This can prove that I’m upright and unafraid of having a crooked shadow.” [6]

Li Wen, standing at Tang Mo’s side, interrupted, “You could also be using reverse psychology.” [7]

Li Bin still said, “Since it’s like this, let the third person with an ability come forward. As long as they come forward, they are definitely the stowaway. Because I know - I haven’t killed anyone. I participated in a game. This younger brother is also an official player. So the third person who possesses an ability is definitely a stowaway!”

Tang Mo said, “I believe you.”

Just now, Li Bin had continuously displayed calm, but his lips were actually always slightly trembling. Now he suddenly heard Tang Mo’s words and he shivered from excitement. He walked right up to Tang Mo’s side. “Younger brother, thank you. I really am an official player. I can tell you all about the game I played. I can tell you how I won that game. I can say it all.”

Tang Mo smiled, shook his head, and said, “You in particular don’t have to say it. All of us must say it.”

In the dim underground cavern, the big mole rustled as it dug in the dirt, its mouth whistling a joyful tune.

In order to declare what all of them had experienced previously in those three days, seven people gathered together.

Luo Fengcheng seriously swept his eyes over all of their faces and said, “I can divide all of the murders that occur in this world into three kinds: The first kind is the accidental type. This is the most commonly seen reason for killing. Most of the time, people have an excited state of mind and can’t control themselves. They might kill by mistake, or use excessive force from self-defense, causing an accident. This is an honest mistake. If that stowaway among us [8] killed someone due to an accident, then when that big mole clearly gave the definition of a stowaway, they would certainly be uneasy. They would feel they had been revealed, have a guilty conscience, and feel somewhat exposed.”

Li Wen said in alarm, “Ah? Then say it earlier. A long time has passed now. Who knows what everyone’s reaction was at that time?”

Tang Mo said, “I paid attention. At that time, everyone’s reactions all still seemed normal and not too excited.”

Luo Fengcheng gave Tang Mo a glance. “He’s not wrong.”

Since entering this cavern, Tang Mo hadn’t relaxed his vigilance. Having experienced a “you die, I live” two person confrontation game, Tang Mo didn’t dare believe these unfamiliar “teammates.”

Luo Fengcheng continued to say, “So there’s an eighty percent chance that the stowaway among us didn’t accidentally kill. They knew they were committing murder. It was deliberate. There is the second kind - the violent type. They only purely desire to kill. The reason is generally to satisfy their own various abnormal psychological or physical needs.”

Everyone touched their necks, feeling a bit cold.

This kind of criminal also wasn’t rare. Serial killers could be classified in this category.

Tang Mo wrinkled his brows.

Then Luo Fengcheng finally said, “I think the stowaway among us ought to be classified as the third kind. They deliberately killed, but don’t have the heart of a killer. They know it’s murder, but absolutely aren’t a homicidal person. They have their own reason for killing. So when they’re exposed, they won’t be surprised, because they already know what they did and why they had to do it.”

Li Wen gulped. “I also feel there shouldn’t be a crazy, antisocial killer like that among us.”

Lin Qiao felt a bit cold. “I also agree. It should be the third kind.”

Tang Mo very calmly listened until Luo Fengcheng finished speaking every word. Then he walked up to Luo Fengcheng and said with a smile, “What you said is really very reasonable. Like this, we can now continue the previous topic, right? It would be best to start from you. Mr. Luo, what did you do in those three days? Are you really a game designer? Where do you work?”

Luo Fengcheng lifted his head slightly, looking at the black-haired youth before his eyes.

Tang Mo’s expression wasn’t too aggressive, yet there was a thread of doubt and question mixed into his gaze.

The two of them stood face to face for a long time.

Luo Fengcheng took an ID out of his pocket and handed it over. “During those three days, I was under the Black Tower conducting research experiments. Let’s officially meet. I’m the team leader of the S-City District A research institute, Luo Fengcheng.”

[PREV] [TOC] [NEXT]

Character Refresher:

Li Bin (李彬), 29, male, works at a PR firm.

Peng Yu Wen (彭玉雯), 18, female, first year of university. Small, looks like a junior high student.

Tang Mo (唐陌), 23, male, librarian. Our protagonist! :D

Li Wen (黎文), 25, male, unemployed. A foolishly sweet second generation whose Maserati is now destroyed.

Lin Qiao (林巧), 20, female, university student.

Zhao Xiang (赵翔), 32, male, former chef.

Luo Fengcheng (洛风城), 28, wears glasses and looks refined.

Uncle Mole (鼹鼠叔叔), a cute and generous mole. ^_^

Translation Notes:

[1] The general words 犯罪 and 罪犯 (crime and criminal) continue to be used throughout here with a few exceptions. To ease my own headache over this matter, I’ve decided to just translate them directly as murder/murderer or killing.

[2] The text says “料普” (with the quotes). I had a really hard time trying to figure out what this means, but based on the literal translation (popular information) and the quotes, I’m guessing that it has the same kind of casual, faux-official tone and meaning as PSA. Uh, PSA stands for public service announcement, in case you don’t know.

[3] “Chicken ribs” means basically useless. Baidu: “It doesn’t have much meat but it would be a pity to throw it away. Something that has little value but you can’t bear to abandon it.”

Shout out to Baidu for always having the answers to my Chinese language and culture questions when all English browsers have is fear mongering about China as a geopolitical power. *kisses two fingers and raises them to the sky* (I assume that’s where Baidu is, based on the aforementioned fear mongering [JOKE!!!!].)

[4] 周而复始 - idiom literally meaning “the circle comes back to the start.” Like the English saying “to come full circle,” it doesn’t actually have anything to do with literal circle shapes. Rather, it refers to repetitive, cyclical actions and events like seasons. Basically, this is just word play.

[5] 兄弟 (xiongdi) - Another brother appears… Literally younger brother, and that’s how I’ll translate it, to avoid overburdening readers with pinyin to remember.

[6] “Those who stand upright are unafraid of casting a crooked shadow” is a Confucian saying. It basically means that those who haven’t done anything wrong aren’t afraid of appearing as though they have. (As a real life “sorry cop,” I don’t know that I personally agree with that statement!!!!)

[7] More literally, “taking advantage of our reversed thinking.” He’s accusing Li Bin of coming forward because they would never expect the stowaway to come forward. So, reverse psychology.

Sorry for all the consecutive footnotes. BTW, if anyone knows how to hyperlink down and back for footnotes on tumblr please hit me up. I just don’t think tumblr has this functionality at all, otherwise, as a personal footnote lover, I would implement it. I could be wrong, though.

[8]

I’m actually not sorry about this footnote.

--

The author's little theaters don't make it into the official print version and I don't have the raws for them (sadge) so here's my own unofficial little theater:

Fu Wenduo: My wife thought about me today... (/▽＼*)｡o○♡

Tang Mo: (#ಠ益ಠ)

[xocowilde]

Johnny and Tania's headcanons

Because someone asked me but honestly I want to share a bit of the story of these two guys (especially Johnny) and have a place where I can come back and check it too and not forget details

All of this began because I was shipping the Punk guy from behind a scene with Steddie... I do blame in part @ /vivalski and this fanart . After that I keep building ideas and stories for him so... ig he is an OC now :)

More headcanons around their band [x] Their playlist [x]

So, if you are interested in a small timeline~ let's go. (isn't small guys, I got excited)

Cw: Drug use, toxic relationship with ex. Addiction.

His mother Caroline Dyer and his dad Andrew Wallace met in NYC and moved to Indy, where 1965 this little crazy Johnny Samuel Wallace was born.

His childhood is moving between Indy, Hawkins, and NYC because of his dad's work. Johnny liked all the loud music he could get his hands on, matching pretty well with Tania Dyer's energy (his cousin, two years older than him) and she is the one who made him know about metal and punk music.

Around 11-12 yo, he returns to Hawkins and meets Eddie Munson and Jonathan Byer. Eddie doesn't remember him because Johnny was all long hair, no tattoos, and no piercings. He would say he looked very dull. But actually, both joined the D&D club before Johnny had to leave again. Jonathan does remember him because of the music and he had a... tiny crush on Johnny. He never tried anything.

At this age, a lot happens; first, back to Indy for a year, Tania joins Johnny and his family living with them for a while. This makes their relationship even stronger, calling themselves siblings around the school. She and Johnny buy their first bass guitar. They began to practice together because they only had the money for ONE. So they would move it around their houses (wasn't that away from each other on Hawkins when they come back)

13 yo he gets his first boyfriend, he is very excited and happy about it but his parents tell Johnny they don't mind he likes this guy, but other people wouldn't react the same. This relationship wasn't long but this other guy (two years older) introduced René to Johnny's life. After this, even around he begins to date Steddie, most of Johnny's relationships are poly, mainly because he is always around Rene (relatively very older than him btw) but has other boyfriends (even one girlfriend because he was curious)

Around 15 yo he gets his first band. Doesn't work that well with a fight with his bass guitarist because Johnny is kind of a perfectionist and if he isn't playing the bass he doesn't like it. The first time he broke his nose and one finger.

His relationship with Tania isn't as close as they had, primarily because of his boyfriends and the band. And because he took the bass without her permission. She actually learns to play the keyboard and writes music, because Tania can't live without music. Dw, their relationship goes back to being as if they were siblings.

and now some angst~

When he is 17 yo his father dies. Johnny may be a punk hardcore guy that loves to fight but he had a very close relationship with both parents, so this hits hard and bad. Leaves school to mourn and decides to put everything on his lyrics. Doesn't help he is around this Rene guy, which means: sex, drugs, and alcohol. All the rock n roll life. You know, he really has some bad months around these things, some staying on his life (he keeps the drugs mostly). Thanks to his mother and his family (especially Tania) he goes back and tries his best to keep going at least with school.

More broken bones and the nose.

And a new band.

This time, he doesn't want anyone else to play the bass if isn't him or Tania, so she jumps in. Both are bassists, and both are voices as well. They get a guy Tania knows that plays the drum (they actually asked this girl in Johnny's class... her name? Ah yeah, Robin Buckley. Not actually his friend but they talk from time to time) And their guitarist is this guy

Around this time they win a band war and Tania begins to don't like at all this guy Eddie Munson and his fucking music band. She just don't like him tbh, nothing deep.

The next years Johnny begins to works on a coffee shop and the flower shop from his mom, still have the band. He wants to go to college but first he wants to save some money.

Tania keeps studying and with the band, working on Hawkins library and from time to time moves to Indy to play on bars. She helps on her aunt's flower shop.

21 yo Johnny begins to flirt and like this Harrington guy. He knew it from before ofc but now is more interesting. He wants to woo him so he does tries. But he also realizes he likes/dates Eddie Munson. Great... He likes the guy too even if in a past band war he won and Eddie never liked him anymore. So Johnny wants to be around these two.

Meanwhile, Tania is working mostly on the band. She actually tried to have a relationship before but isn't something she worries about. She wants the band to grow and know new places. She actually really likes Steve as Johnny's possible boyfriend, but ain't happy her cousin has a crush on Eddie... But totally hates René.

Johnny finishes as part of Steddie relationship as something sexual but they grow to something more personal and romantic. Thanks to this he realizes this is a healthy happy relationship and not whatever it is he has with René.

And that's mostly Johnny and Tania's timeline. She has a most calm one, while Johnny is a mess but with a big heart.

That's it. If you have questions, there's my DM and I'm actually writing part of stories after all this and AUs

Everything is tagged as Pretty Punk Metal / Steve x Eddie x Johnny. In case you want to mute it or follow it ❤️

[violettabalkoff]

seasons, "summer"

It was the season of peaches and saltwater and sidewalks bathed in waves of heat. I was in love with a boy who held the filter against my lips. We’d ride roller coasters and drown lingering mosquitoes in the shower. He jumped off roofs into swimming pools and I’d watch, my mouth molding into the cigarette I loved like I loved him. It was love, it was summer, and I was everything that glowed. 

We spent every day sunbathing by the shore, listening to Sublime, ripping open citrus with our salty hands. We’d watch the surfers flow in and out, caught in the breath of the waves, a victim to a body, helpless to its breadth. My eyes glossed over every novel, learning nothing and living everything. 

The Los Angeles summer was particularly sweltering that year. We were holding hands on the way to the tattoo parlor. The sun drilled into my eyes. We couldn’t tell up from down and bumped into each other as we drugged into oblivion. Earlier that morning, we decided to get matching tattoos. I mentioned it as a joke. I didn’t expect him to say yes. We put on our shoes and headed out the door before either of us could change our mind. I knew it was dumb to get parallel scars with my temporary heart, but I begged myself to memorialize my youth. The part of me that belonged to him would soon be gone, and who would I be if not myself? When my cells recycled their entrails. When there is nothing left of all that I relied on. The ink was proof that I lived it and would never cease to be. We each took shots before it was our turn for mutilation, but the pain itself was intoxicating. The scent of vodka and disinfectant brought tears to my eyes. I squeezed his hand tightly, but turned my face away from his. It was important to me that he did not know the whole truth. The black leather of the tattoo chair was sticky with sweat. The needle against bone was like a knife against my throat. Do it and die, don’t do it and die, too. I chose the blade myself. If I am going to die anyways, I might as well live on my own terms. When I stood up, drunk and proud and born-anew, the leather chair glistened like me. I didn’t show anyone my tattoo. It still lives on the skin above my hip bone. 

I dyed my hair green and smoked and smoked and loved every cigarette like I loved my own reflection. Vanity was my trademark. Dog sitting friends opened the gates of their boss’s backyards, and thirsty, young party-folk diffused in from the streets. I arrived an hour later than I said I would. I wore platform heels and pink glitter eyes and maroon lipstick. Strangers told me they admired my “confidence”. Perhaps this was an insult, but I took it as a compliment. I responded “thank you”, and a girl–mousy, awkward, and freckled–asked me if it was real. I said “what do you mean?” She said “your confidence, is it real? Or is it, like, an affirmation? You know, ‘fake it ‘till you make it’?” I said “no, it’s not like that.” I expected her to leave it at that. She did not. “How?” she asked. To be fair, it was a good question. I wasn’t sure of my answer until it came out of my lips: 

“The air parts for me everywhere I go. Without me, the world doesn’t exist. It’s all just sensory, and without the observer, there is nothing. I think I might be God, in some ways. I am, and all I want is to be. So if everything–every ocean, every star, every moon, every drink–all exist for me, I might as well enjoy it.” She didn’t get it. But it didn’t matter. 

One night, me and my love snuck out and drove to the beach. We stripped to our skin and ran into the freezing ocean, mermaids swallowed by the conch shell held to our ears. We were the world. The foamy white breaks split at our will. Infected by goosebumped and moonlighted skin, the saltwater fogged our eyes–we could only make out hue and light and each other. We were surrounded by glitter floating like flotsam, casted down by the stray house lights on the hills. The sky was covered in a blanket, the stars illuminating the overcast fog into a light, midnight gray. It darkened as it approached the horizon. In the distance, the ocean faded into the black sky. We could not see what was in the dark, and we did not care. We swam for hours. He hugged me, and our goosebumps gritted against each other. 

After, we sat on the beach, wrapped in towels, shivering the seawater off of our skin, not yet ready to abandon the poem being written by our presence. I pulled out the last two cigarettes in my pack, placing one in his wrinkled palm and the other between my trembling lips. Sunrise was approaching, and the night’s final breath beamed deep blue. I lit my cigarette with a shaky lighter and turned to my love. I could only see what the light of my cigarette permitted me to. He put his between his lips, and I brought my face to his, kissing him with the light. Through the cigarettes, he inhaled my breath and flame. We smoked silently. I said nothing about how beautiful the embers looked in the darkness. Instead I just breathed in, again and again, bringing red to the small world around me, until there was nothing left to lift the dawn. And with my final expiration, the world returned to near darkness.

[nonbinarytheatrekid07]

Here are my ✨assorted Ride The Cyclone thoughts✨ because my brain won't let me stop thinking about it

The head trick is so cool you guys

Who wants to cosplay as the characters in this musical with me?(I call Virgil)

The way Noel sings 'Rot' consumes my thoughts every day

They help Ricky move I-

Question; what were the other possible modes besides game mode?

"Sorey"

Jane's voice is so beautiful

Ocean you sound great, stop insulting your friends

"Borthday"

This show has some really good monologues but I think Noel's is my favorite

Noel would probably like 'Chicago'

Yes i would like to talk about this voice, it's fantastic

I really like the way he sings the last 'carnival'

Its ok Constance I am also laughing

Ocean is so close to having a breakdown this whole time and i relate to that

"that shit was emotionally devastating yo"

rage against the Canadians

i wonder what the binary that Ricky said means

'Talia' is such a beautiful song you guys

I love Noel my little gay boy <3

it's Ricky time babeyyyy

he just straight up sticks his fingers in her mouth like what the fuck

why the devo hats boys?

ricky youre lucky that i love you and this song goes hard

Look away children

Karnak is just watching very intently

Ricky is currently in heels and speaking truth

✨incredible✨

the first time I watched this and he conceded I let out an audible gasp

the way she pushes the lever twice

madam how do you hit those notes it's amazing

this show has incredible choreography

I dont care what anyone says, Noel is freaking adorable

hello yes I would like to give everyone in this show a hug

me and the boys getting matching "born to bone" tattoos

nothing like a Constance monologue to get you crying

This song is great and im sad why do they have to be dead

I prefer these lyrics and style to the cast recording version

JANE CLAPS FOR HER

me? Crying again? Never

how quiet it is right after Karnak dies

oh would you look at that, I'm crying again

That's all thank you

[atlafan]

The Boy in the Dress

a/n: alright it’s been a minute since I posted a fic on here, but here we are! Just something short and sweet for Halloween...even though Halloween is over, but oh well! This Dorothy costume has consumed all my thoughts. PLEASE REBLOG AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK OR I’LL DELETE IT! If you like what you’ve read, consider joining more of the fun on patreon.

Warnings: smut

Words: 2.6K (not proofread) 

Pairing: Harry x OC

Normally, a guys dressed as a woman for Halloween would be a joke. Guys like to dress up as women to make fun of them, at least, that’s the experience Avery’s always had. Frat guys dress up like Britney Spears, sorority sisters, or basically any woman. But when Avery saw a guy legitimately dressed as Dorothy, no joke attached, she couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

She herself is dressed up as a Pop Tart. She and her friends all got extra large tee shirts and designed them to look like different flavors of Pop Tarts. She’s the cinnamon frosted flavor – a classic. She’s wearing a pair of spandex shorts underneath, and paired with some converse. Comfort is key with Avery. She’s on the Women’s Volleyball Team at her university, so this was an easy team costume to put together.

Avery looks around for anyone on theme with the boy in the Dorothy costume, but she doesn’t see anyone around him in something remotely related to The Wizard of Oz. Normally, she wouldn’t be so bold, but the boy is sort of being a wallflower. He has a red solo cup in his head that he’s occasionally taking a sip from. He’s also holding a small basket with a little stuffed dog. He’s wearing the fuck out of his dress, and he’s even got a bow in his hair. He just looks cute, and Avery need to know more about him. As she gets closer, she sees his left arm is littered with tattoos, and he even has a couple on his collar bones. Who the fuck is this guy? And please…let him be into girls. Let him be into girls like Avery.

“Hi, I hope this isn’t weird, but I had to come over and tell you how pretty your dress is.” Avery says with the most amount of courage she’s ever needed to muster. The boy nearly chokes on his drink, his eyebrows shooting up from her compliment.

“Oh! Uh, thanks.” If his cheeks weren’t already so rosy from his makeup, the burn in his cheeks would certainly be noticeable. “I made it myself.”

“Get out!”

“No, really, I…I’m an art and design major. I designed this for a class and decided to actually make it. The Wizard of Oz is one of my favorite movies.”

“It’s beautiful, honestly.” Avery’s eyes scan the entire ensemble. His shoes look like normal red heels, only they’ve been made into boots that zip up around his calves. He’s sporting red stockings and white bloomers under the dress, a nice touch. His nails are painted red to match the shoes, and he even seems to be wearing false lashes. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He smiles softly. “I was sort of nervous to come out like this.”

“Why?”

“I’m on the swim team, and I was nervous some of the guys would make fun of me, but I got over it. It’s Halloween, I just wanted to come out and have a good night.”

“And…are you? Having a good night?”

“Yeah.” He smirks down at her, biting the lip of his cup. “I’ve sort of just been surveying the seen. My buddy’s dancing with some girl.” He looks Avery up and down. “Are you on the volleyball team?”

“Mhm, how’d you guess?”

“You all are dressed like Pop Tarts, it’s cute. It’s original, I don’t think I’ve seen something like that before.”

“We were going to be Sims, but we found out the women’s soccer team was doing that, so we scrapped it. So, do you want to be a fashion designer?”

“Something like that…I haven’t quite decided yet. What about you? What’s your major?”

“I’m pre-med, I want to be a pediatrician.”

“That’s so cool!” His eyes light up. “I’m Harry.”

“Avery.”

“That’s a pretty name.” He smiles.

“Did you do your makeup yourself? It looks good.”

“I did! I watched a few tutorials. The lashes were the most difficult, but all in all I’m happy with it.”

“Did you make sure to take a ton of pictures before going out?” She steps a little closer to him.

“Yeah, why?”

“It could get a little messed up as the night goes on.” Her fingers brush up is his left forearm.

“I used a pretty decent setting spray. So, unless you plan on personally messing it up, it should stay intact.”

“And what if I did want to mess it up?” She’s inches away from him. He’s got a solid foot on her, and normally she’d be intimidated by someone so much larger, but she’s feeling confident. She wants this guy between her legs in any capacity. “I’d love to see those pretty eyes looking up at me…but if you’re not into it, please tell me to back off.”

“No, I…” He swallows. “You actually want to hook up with me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? There aren’t any other guys here I’d like to take home. You really caught my eye, Harry.”

“You’re not put off that I’m in a dress?”

“Put off?” She scoffs, and places her hands on his shoulders. “I think you look sexy.” Her hands move, and slide up to tug at the hair at the back of his neck. “Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Go ahead.” He places his hands on her hips and tugs her closer to him so they’re pressed against one another.

She goes up on her tiptoes just a bit so her lips can reach his. He tastes like hard cider, which just makes her kiss him harder. His arms wrap around her lower back, so she’s able to put more of her weight against his chest. His back is pressed up against the wall, and he gets into a slight wall sit position to kiss her easier. He opens his mouth for her and she licks inside. She nips at his bottom lip, running her tongue along it after. He’s wearing lipstick, she can feel it rubbing against her own lips.

They spend a decent chunk of time kissing. She sucks bruises into his neck while he groped at her hips and ass. The party is loud around them. There’s music blaring, people shouting, and everything in between. Avery didn’t see her night going this way at all. She didn’t think there would be any prospects at this party. She just found Harry’s confidence to be so sexy. At the end of the day, it’s just a dress and heels, but it takes guts for someone to step outside the confinements of society to do something so freeing.

“You, uh, you said you wanted to take me home earlier…does that offer still stand?” He asks her, puffing for air.

“God, yes.” She nods. “I live about a five minute walk away.”

“Perfect.” He grins. “Lead the way.”

The walk feels like an eternity. Avery just wants to get Harry into her bed. She isn’t sure if she wants him to leave the dress on, or have him take it off. There are so many possibilities. When they do finally reach her apartment, and make it inside, she quickly gets him into her room and locks the door. She presses him up against it and attaches her lips to his.

“You still wanna do this?” She asks between kissing his lips to his jaw to his neck.

“Yes.” He nods, biting his bottom lip as she sucks another bruise into his neck. Avery pulls him to her bed. She takes her leggings and underwear off (along with her shoes and socks) and sits on the edge of the bed. She leans back on her elbows and opens her legs for him. Harry takes the hint and gets on his knees in front of her. “Do you think I could have a pillow?” He asks her as his hand run up her bare thighs.

Avery grabs one of her throw pillows for him, and he tucks it under his knees. He kisses from her right knee all the way to her inner thigh. He looks up at her before doing anything else. She gives him an encouraging nod, and he moves her thighs over his shoulders. He licks up over her slit a few times, just trying to get a taste of her. He swirls the tip of his tongue around her clit and gives it a little suck before licking inside of her. She groans and reaches for the back of his head to push him closer. She doesn’t want to mess up the bow on the top of his head, so she sticks with pulling at the curls on the nape of his neck. He looks up at her through his lashes, and she looks down at him. Her mouth falls open from the lustful sight.

“Oh my god, you’re so good at this.” Avery whimpers. “You look so pretty licking my pussy.”

Harry moans into her, and uses his thumb to continue rubbing at her clit. His tongue feels so good as it fucks in and out of her. Her thighs squeeze around his head as she starts to squirm. He licks and sucks on her cunt until she’s coming around his tongue. Harry moves up off his knees to hover over Avery on the bed. He slots his mouth over hers, and holds her wrists down on either side of her head. She rolls her hips up towards his and groans when she feels his hard cock press against her. They shift so he’s standing up straight, and she’s up on her knees on the bed. He holds the skirt of his dress up so she can tug his bloomers and tights down his legs. His cock springs out and slaps against his lower belly. She grips his length and gives his tip a kiss.

“Please.” His head rolls back as her tongue glides over his slit.

“What do you need?” She asks him, pressing wet kisses up and down his shaft.

“Your mouth, please, suck on it.”

She wraps her lips around his tip and starts licking and sucking like he’s the world’s best tasting lollipop. His taste is heady and salty, like most guys, but he smells like cinnamon and vanilla. He’s trim and clean, which makes Avery take him further into her mouth. She tucks his head into the back of her cheek and bobs her head up and down. Harry keeps his dress out of the way with one hand while the other grips her shoulder, bunching the material of her shirt.

“You taste so fucking good.” She mumbles around him before popping off altogether. “Do you wanna fuck me?”

“Yes.”

She helps him wriggle out of his boots, bloomers and tights, but the dress stays on. Avery leaves her Pop Tart shirt on as well. She doesn’t love being overly exposed, and with how needy she is for Harry’s cock, she’s honestly not even thinking about getting the rest of her clothes off. She reaches into her bedside table for a condom, and rips it open. She slides it on over his length and has him lay flat on the bed. She straddles him, and lines his tip up with her entrance, sinking down slowly onto him.

“Oh my fucking god.” She moans softly.

Harry sits up a bit, placing a hand behind himself to prop his weight onto, and uses the other to grip her hip. Avery bounces up and down on Harry’s cock as he thrusts up into her. She pants and moans, not really caring how loud she’s being. All she cares about is how good Harry’s cock feels inside of her, and how pretty he looks fucking her with that dress on.

“Can, fuck, can we switch positions?” He asks her.

“How do you want me?”

“From behind.”

“But then I won’t be able to see you, and you look so pretty.” She pouts down at him.

“Fucking hell, do you have a mirror in here?”

“Yeah on the back of the door!” She gets off of him and gets into position on all fours for him. He gets behind her and slides back inside. She collapses down to her forearms once he gets a rhythm going. “Oh! Oh my god!” She looks at him through the mirror. His head is thrown back, his hands are squeezing at her ass and hips, and he’s making the best sounds she’s ever heard someone make. “You’re so hot, Harry, fuck, look at yourself.” He opens his eyes and looks at them in the mirror.

“Shit, look at you.” He groans, his nails digging into the meat of her ass. One of his hands slides around her front so he can rub at her clit. “Think you can come again?”

“Definitely.” She arches her back more for him. His tip is beating into her g-spot, a feeling she hasn’t really had before. She feels like she’s gonna go cross-eyes. “Don’t stop, please.” She whimpers. “Harder, go harder, Harry.”

He grunts and groans as he pounds into her. She tightens around him, coming again. She gushes around him as he continues to rub her clit. She cries out and desperately tries to catch her breath as he spills into the condom. He carefully pulls out of her and collapses back on the bed.

“I just need a minute.” He breathes. “Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You can stay if you want to.” She tells him, laying back next to him.

“That’s so nice of you to offer.” He turns his head to look at her. “But I don’t want to walk back like this tomorrow morning. I need to get this makeup off too.” He wipes under his eyes.

“Understandable.” She chuckles. “Can I at least help you with the makeup? I have wipes.”

“That’d be great.”

She helps him take off the condom and disposes of it before getting her makeup remover wipes. She turns her main light on, and moves to straddle his lower stomach.

“It’s always best to start with the eyes.” She tells him as she carefully dabs at his false lashes. “You look really sexy with your makeup all smudged.” She smirks, and so does he.

“I bet. I’ll have to wear it for you again somet-ow!” He yelps and opens his eyes.

“Sorry, I thought I loosened the glue enough.” She tosses the false lash aside. “I’ll be gentler with the other one.” And she is, much gentler. Harry sighs contently as she uses a new wipe to do the rest of his face. “There we go, all clean. You’ll want to still wash your face with your usual cleanser to get anything I may have missed, though.” She gets off him and watches as he gets the rest of his clothes back on.

“Yeah, thanks for the tip.” He gives her a soft smile and fiddles with his phone. “Would you…uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Was this a one-time thing, or…would you maybe want to grab coffee sometime?”

“You wanna see me again…for coffee?” She cocks her head to the side.

“On top of the great sex we just had, you were genuinely nice to me tonight. I know more and more guys are wearing dresses nowadays, but you made me feel sort of special and beautiful.” He admits. “Not a lot of people would have done that. So…I think…I think I’d like to get to know you better.”

“You’re, like, the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” She stands up and wraps her arms around his neck, pecking his lips. “I’d love to go out for coffee sometime.”

The two exchange numbers before Harry heads out. He texts Avery once he’s settled into bed. The two stay up for a bit messaging one another. They figure out a day and time during the week to meet up for coffee, and they both fall asleep with butterflies in their tummies.

[ogdoadfates]

Aight here we go Vaxleth modern AU prompts/plot like points? idk but here they are!

Vax is a mortician and Keyleth is a florist, you can also put percy x Vex in here as well, could start with Vax having to find a new florist to get flowers for his work (I have barely any sense of what they do, probs do more research into what that line of work fully entails I know the main bits and bobbles of it but not the extras) this could work as a slow burn with all of them slowly getting to know each other (can of course add some angst in here too~ like vax having to prepair a body that looks like keyleth at some point? idk) so this prompt works for either long fics or a one shot

Rockstar AU Vex, Vax, Pike, Grog, and scanlan all are a band (manager is Gilmore because yes~) and when done with touring for a bit Gilmore reunites with his old friend Allura who is also attempting the same job but with Kyleth and Percy but tho they are good they haven’t had great exposure (Keyleth and Percys duo/band name could be The SunTree or Beneath the SunTree) so this leads to them meeting up causing a slow burn between both Vax an Keyleth and Vex an Percy, with the end leading into the creation of the band Vox Machina (bonus points if Keyleth, percy and Allura play D&D and Allura is the DM)

Finding orphaned fanfics and either finishing them or if they are complete writing them from the other background couples perspective! (if your able to ask for permission first!)

This is just an angst idea but could make  very good long fanfic story, due to this being modern AU so no magic ect Keyleth wouldn’t have the druid lifespan of like 1000+years so one idea could be her having cancer (please please do research if you do this and treat it with the respect it needs. or you can make up some disease/illness) maybe Vex is her head doctor and majority of the rest of Vox machina is her team helping her? Percy just being her best friend keeping her company and helping her through it (or if you want to add more angst and slower burn, Keyleth never told anyone but Pery about her illness and had been in a different hospital for help but has to get transfered which is how everyone else finds out causing sad angst while the gang tries to help Keyleth)

College chatfic or normal fic, or mix! slow burn all live in the same dorm like thing, treat rashan like a bad ex of keyleths and thats why she is hesitent to date or get romanticly involved with Vax and the closer the two get the more angry Rashan gets lowkey staking keyleth? god majority of these are dark sorry about that XD 

Anything with Keyleth having a bad previous ex could give her reason to get a tattoo across her collar bone that of antlers that on them in firery text says ‘I have passed through fire’

Strong Keyleth like this can work with any fic just strong keyleth, who likes to go rock climbing and such.

Feel free to mix match or pick apart and put together ideas! Like this is for y’all to mash and mix or just use as inspiration and do your own idea/prompt I just want to read more modern au vaxleth fanfic pls link me them when ya get one posted ;-; (might post more critical role fanfic prompts at some point we’ll see)

[you-show-me-love]

Hey Chaos 😉 how are you? If you feel like it , I have a new challenge!

Headcanon challenge:

1. Besides “Mick” and “Mickey”, what’s Ian nickname for Mickey? From all the nicknames Mickey calls him , what’s Ian’s favorite?

2. What’s the story behind Mickey’s knuckle tattoos? (When / how / by who) When Ian gets a tattoo for Mickey, what is it / on what occasion?

3. Random turn-on for Mickey and a random turn-on for Ian? (Bonus: something that really shouldn’t be a turn on but is)

4. What’s their Instagram @ ? When did they start following each other?

5. If they get a pet, is it a dog (who walks it more often?) or a cat (who cuddles with it more often) ? 

(if it’s too much just picks a fav question)

Omg thank you for these headcannon questions @gallavich-headcanons !

1. Besides Mick and Mickey Ian mostly calls him baby, but I can absolutely see Ian try out other pet names and nicknames with various degrees of success. Sweetheart and honey got him an eye roll, muffin and pumpkin just made Ian hungry, snookums got him a punch in the arm, but baby he could get away with. He couldn't call him that in public and never in front of Lip but when they were alone he'd say it to his hearts content.

Out of everything Mickey has called Ian the man in question especially loves when he calls him lover and husband. A lot of Ian's nicknames come from the way he looks, like red and ginger snap and howdy doody, but when Mickey calls him lover he feels all warm inside because that's who he is.

2. I have this headcannon that Mickey gets tattoos to prove something. So for example he gets Ian's name to prove he loves him, and I think he gets the knuckle tats to prove he's a Milkovich and match his dad and brothers. I think he got them in juvie and it was rough and amateur and it hurt bad enough to make him forget his dad never once visited him. As bad as they are Mickey's tattoos prove he's a Milkovich, prove he's Southside forever, and prove that Ian Gallagher has his heart.

Similarly Ian also gets tattoos with meaning, like his tattoo in rememberance of his mom or even his army tattoo as he fully immersed himself into his military dream. So I think Ian gets a tattoo for Mickey during a time when he needs to cling to Mickey, when he's worried he'll lose him. He learned his lesson about not getting a portrait after the tits that got inked into his shoulder, but I can definitely see him getting Mickey's name over his heart, or the words At Last after their wedding song, or even Mickey's own shitty heart he drew on a note pinned to the fridge. Either way he doesn't lose Mickey, doesn't need a tattoo in keep him, he's always had him and always will.

3. Oh random turn ons are abundant. Here's what I imagined got them this week. Mickey did some math in his head and that turned Ian on. Ian squared up against a line cutter at the supermarket and that turned Mickey on. Mickey was fingerpainting with Franny and wiped a purple handprint onto the butt of his jeans, Ian rolled a beer bottle along his exposed collar bones before passing it to Mickey, and the list goes on and on and on and-

4. Ian has an instagram that Mandy helped him make when they were in high school. The @ you ask? JTismyboyfriend. He posted a couple of photos, no pictures of himself or anything, but he forgot all about it until he went to create a new account a few years later. His current @ is not very creative: just IanGallagrrr - chosen by a teen at Trevor's shelter who took pity on him after watching him struggle to change his handle for ten minutes.

Mickey doesn't have social media as far as Ian knows. When he's brought it up Mickey rants about how he doesn't want to be tracked and he won't be snitching on himself and selling his information to some rich fuck and blah blah blah. In actuality Mickey had a blank instagram he uses to keep up with Ian, the other Gallaghers, and his own family - the one's he's cool with anyway. His @ is 3I21M_ which doesn't catch anyone's attention. Not even Lip has figured out this random account following all of his family is made up of his and Ian's initials and their wedding date.

5. Both Ian and Mickey want a dog, but what they get first is a little runt of a kitten they found outside of a dispensary on a rainy security run. They brought it home and fed it scraps of chicken and kept it warm with a towel, agreeing to take it to a shelter in the morning, except morning came and went and the kitten was still there. They did eventually take her to the shelter, but not to turn her in, they wanted to make sure the dog they picked out would be compatible with their feline family member. Ian takes the dog for walks and Mickey stays home cuddling with the cat. Mickey loves pretending to throw a ball for the dog and Ian lets the kitten climb up and sit on his shoulder as he walks around the kitchen.

Phew and there are all the headcanons! Thanks @gallavich-headcanons ❤️❤️❤️

[whatohitsonfirewelp]

Okay okay okay

The Marcus, Percy, Penny and Oliver friendship (with appearances from Cedric)

These dumbasses break the rules all the time they just know how to not get caught

They snuck into hogsmeade in their first year by accident and just never stopped going

They have snuck into the hospital wing(?) become of quidditch accidents or Penny and Percy were experimenting with spells and potions

Before Cedric was a prefect they would sneak him into the prefects bathroom because they knew he would absolutely love it

Marcus and Oliver accidentally found the kitchens and now all four of them are great friends with the elves and never stopped going

They all will wonder around past curfew or sneak out of their houses during the summer to meet up

Penny and Percy refuse to just read about spells and potions. These nerds love to experiment and it’s ended up blowing up in their faces so many times

Penny had to wear a wig for months because half her hair got burnt off and she wanted to know if there would be side affects if she let it grow naturally

Percy had glowing eyes for a week once and it was a pain for the four of them to hide it

They have both ended up with so many broken bones

Oliver walked in on an experiment once and both had to tackle him since it was about to explode

Marcus has so many before and after pictures for black mail

Marcus and Oliver are actually great friends when it’s not quidditch season and when it is they have to be separated

Percy out right picked Oliver up and walked away with him because he was about to tackle Marcus

Penny has threatened to spell certain parts of them if they don’t behave

Marcus and Oliver both ended up with detention for weeks and nearly kicked off their teams because the fighting got so bad their 3rd (they had a fight during the summer and the tension was higher during the season because of it)

Oliver and Percy get matching tattoos when they find out Oliver is going to be a professional player and get drunk

Marcus was there and was laughing the whole time

Penny won’t talk to them for three days because they went without her

All three are threatened by Percy to never tell his family

Oliver loves his and starts to get a few more over the years

Penny and Percy always wanted to work at the ministry but other always knew it wasn’t perfect

They actually got into a fight with Oliver and Marcus about in when Voldy first returned

Penny had to sit them down and explain that they don’t trust Dumbledore and they aren’t sure if it’s true

But they won’t completely take it out of the equation but it’s important that they get the ministry to trust them so that they can help those who need it when he really comes back

Percy and Penny both apologize to them when they find out he really is back but they stay working there because it won’t be easy but they have to help where they can

Marcus disappears for awhile and none of them are sure if he’s on the run from his family or became a death eater in a attempt to help them and protect them

Oliver doesn’t work for the Order but instead for a much smaller and quiet group and he sends them information from Penny and Percy

When Percy leaves/is kicked out from his home

He goes to Oliver first and then the others come over

There’s a lot of crying

Then a lot of yelling

And then a lot of hugging

They actually have gotten into some weird and at times dangerous situations

Percy accidentally ends up great friends with Madam Pince and Madam Pomfrey. They let him in on a bunch of old hogwarts secrets and it’s great

Oliver and Percy once set their room on fire and Penny will not let it go

Marcus ‘accidentally’ flooded the prefect bathroom

All four of them taught themselves and Cedric defense against the dark arts because they shed they had terrible teachers until Remus

You know who the stairs move? Well Penny fell through once and Percy barley caught her and both were screaming because the stairs were still moving and they thought she was going to get squished

Percy actually forced Oliver to try out for the quidditch team and dragged him out for them because Oliver was scared

When Penny and Oliver introduced Percy and Marcus to muggle things they always took delight in tricking them. Many soda cans have exploded

One time when Flying Oliver grabbed Percy who was grabbed by Penny and then all three of them were in the air screaming because Oliver had started to slip off from the weight

Marcus had to grab his broom and help Oliver get back on his broom

Cedric was there and laughing the entire time

Percy actually stress bakes and cooks and Marcus loves it

But Marcus didn’t bother to tell anyone he was allergic to strawberries and then they had to take him to the wing because he ate a strawberry cupcake

“It looked good!” Was his defense

As I said, they are dumbasses who are best friends

So Penny and Percy dated before breaking up when they realized they’re better as friends

Marcus and Penny are so tired when they figure out that Percy and Oliver are in love

When Marcus comes back in the middle of the war and finds out they aren’t together he buys Penny a bottle of fire whiskey because she’s had to deal with it alone

Penny can’t cook at all and when she tried she nearly burnt down the kitchen

Oliver once accidentally ate broom polish because he wasn’t paying attention

Marcus becomes a movie nerd once Penny and Oliver show he and Percy movies

Percy ends up quoting yoda a lot because it annoys the rest of them

When they first meet Cedric Penny out right takes one look at him and nods and says “this one is ours”

Percy has to explain that they can’t just claim first years

Oliver was the one who actually helped Cedric train for becoming a seeker

Marcus doesn’t let anyone bully Cedric

None of them can sing at all but that doesn’t mean they don’t try

Percy can actually play a bunch of instruments and Marcus is good at piano

Oliver doesn’t care but he can dance

Penny can do none of that and has broken a toe dancing and snapped a flute in half

The other three are very fearful of her strength

Penny can draw and she makes glass art

Percy is actually good at sports like he’s average but he doesn’t like to do them. Well he does but only one

He likes swimming

Penny was actually a quidditch player (thank you @quidditch-myths for this idea) and she use to do track. Sometimes she still runs but not as much

Marcus is weirdly good at tap dancing and none of the understand why

That’s all for now but I will make more of these

[darkmulti]

King of Hell

BTS

Series : part 1

Pairing: demon!Jungkook x human!Female Reader x demon!Taehyung x demon!Jimin

Genre: Angst & Smut

Word Count: 4.3K

CONTAINS DARK THEMES!

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! READ WARNINGS CAREFULLY!

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A/N: SHAIWJW, IVE BEEN “WRITING” THIS FIC SINCE LAST YEAR, HOLY FUCK. Anyways I hope you enjoy this shitty story:)

These are the warnings for the entire series!! This is a dark fanfic that is not meant for everyone! If these warnings trigger you, please leave!!

Smut Warning(s): multiple smuts, cockwarming, face slapping, saliva kink, thigh riding, humiliation, heavy degradation, dacryphilia kink, threesome, anal, blowjob, somnophilia kink, mirror sex, choking, spanking, hair pulling, rough sex, mix of ddlg, sleep sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, begging, small bits of praising, marking, fear kink, cum shots, cum eating

Other Warning(s): possessive!Jungkook, blood, murder, torture, physical abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, submissive reader

I’m probably missing something...

THIS FIC CONTAINS NON CONSENSUAL SEX! PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

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Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this was wrong. But did she care?

No.

The girl laid supine on her boss's desk, sore legs bound around his torso, caging him in. His hand gently kneads her sensitive breast, earning soft moans from her. She grabbed his tie and tugged on it until he leaned down and passionately kissed her. The man gently pulled her up and swiftly wrapped his shapely arms around her body. She pulled away first, eager to catch her breath.

The excessive tension in the overheated room was unbearable. Her head remained low in embarrassment while her boss burned her with his gaze. To break up the tension, she awkwardly clears her throat and hops off his desk. For some reason, she desperately wanted to apologize but stopped herself. From what she remembers, her boss was undressing her with his eyes, so she let him have it. Deciding she’s not going to apologize, she frantically pulled up her skirt and opened the door to leave.

However, her boss was faster than her and instantly closed it again. He cupped her cheeks and attempted to kiss her again, but she stepped away. “I’m sorry, Dr. Kim. It’s getting late and my apartment is far from here, so I better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Taehyung scowled at her. It was insulting to him. No one has ever rejected his touch. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and flung her onto his desk. She groaned in pain, protecting her injured side. Taehyung clutched her face and attached his lips onto hers, kissing her like it was his last time. She instinctively kicked her legs at him, but that made him more belligerent.

“Stop! Leave me alone!” She yelled, throwing her hands against his chest, trying to get him off. Unfortunately, she was no match for him. Taehyung pinned her down without a struggle and pulled her skirt down again. “I tried being nice, princess. But now you’ve gotten on my nerves.” He growled, forcing his cock in, despite her screaming at him to stop.

A sadistic smirk appears on his face as he picks up his pace. His warm cock fitted inside of her perfectly. It was like they were made for each other. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, enjoying the feeling to the fullest. While Taehyung was on cloud nine, the girl was bawling her eyes out underneath him. “T- Taehyung! Stop! It h- hurts!” She sobbed uncontrollably, breath hitching. Her vision started to blur as she felt her energy drain out of her writhing body. She's never endured this much pain.

Taehyung grunts as he pushes himself forward one last time before cumming in her. “Fuck! You feel so good, baby.” He leaned down and licked her tears away. He then created a trail of hickeys along her jawline, down to her collar bone. “How about another round, babe?”

“No, no! Please, no! It hurts!” She hiccuped, putting her hands together. “Please, Dr. Kim. I’ll do anything except for this! I c- can give you money… if you’d like.” Taehyung couldn’t help himself. Watching her beg for mercy was a turn on. “I don’t need your filthy money, slut. Now stay still or else you're fired.”

He ruthlessly entered in again. She let out a painful whimper but didn’t dare to move because her job was on the line. Taehyung held her hips down and quickened his pace. The helpless girl was fighting off the urge to push him away with all her remaining strength. Soon enough, her legs trembled on their own as ripples of forced pleasure went through her body. More tears gathered in her fearful eyes. A minute passed, she was still sprawled on his desk, catching her breath. “C- can I pl- please leave now?” She faintly whispered, on the verge of passing out.

Taehyung pulled her ragged skirt up then pulled her upright. He moved her hair out of her face and tenderly caressed her cheek, admiring her face. “You won’t tell anyone about this, understand?” She sobbed but nodded her head. “Good… get your stuff, I’ll drive you home.”

“No, sir. It’s okay. I’ll call a taxi. You can go home.” Taehyung’s eyes darkened. He grabbed her neck and squeezed it. “You’re making me repeat myself, Y/N. You out of all people should know how much I hate doing that. Now for the last time, get your shit and I’ll drive you home.” He took a step back and followed her to her office. She quickly grabbed her purse and jacket, then they both headed out.

The car ride home was silent. She didn't dare to speak a word. Not after what he did to her. All she could do is keep her head down and play with the hem of her shirt. Taehyung glanced over at her here and there, but he too didn’t speak a word. He looked in his rear view mirror and spotted his best friend sitting in the back, staring at “his” girl. “Keep your eyes off of her. She’s already taken, Jungkook.”

Y/N flinched when Taehyung started talking. “Huh? Are you talking to me?” She asked, confused. Red flags were popping up but she couldn’t exactly jump onto the highway. She bit down on her lip and waited for a response. “Took you a while to detect my presence, Taehyung. I thought you could do better.” She immediately turned around and saw a man sitting in the middle seat, legs spread apart. His long, jet-black hair almost veiled his eyes, and he was covered in tattoos. “Who the hell are you?!” She slightly yells, clearly startled by the man. “I wouldn’t raise my voice if I were you, sweetheart. Anyone who disrespects me will regret it for the rest of their life and afterlife.” Jungkook mockingly said, confusing the girl even more. She turned to Taehyung for an explanation, but he simply rested his hand on her thigh. “Calm down, angel. I won’t let him hurt you.”

“Bold of you to say that, Taehyung. You really think you can take me on?” Jungkook challenged.

“To keep her by my side, I’d knock you over without hesitation.” Taehyung said with a dull expression on his face.

“Don’t tell me you have feelings for this girl. Man, you keep letting me down. First living in the mortal world and now, falling in love. What’s next? Marriage? Family planning? Pathetic, Kim Taehyung. If Jimin were here, he’d be laughing his ass off.”

“If you have nothing nice to say, leave. I thought you didn’t enjoy the mortal world.”

“I don’t, I just wanted to see what my dearest friend is up to. I’m astonished, however. You managed to keep that unpleasant side of yours a secret.”

Taehyung glanced at his girl. Her face was pale and if you looked closely, she was shaking. Taehyung stroked her thigh in a soothing manner, signinally her to calm down. Out of fear, she clings to Taehyung’s hand tightly. This didn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. He sensed her fear the moment she sat in the car. He enjoyed watching her crumble apart in the passenger seat. She looked vulnerable and afraid, he wanted to ruin her innocent looking face.

“Stop gawking at my girlfriend, Kook. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“No, I actually don’t. Next month, I’ll be announced king, but until then, I’ll hang around you and this lovely princess.”

From that point on, Taehyung knew he couldn’t leave her alone. If he did, Jungkook would 100% hurt her or even worse, mark her as his own. Jungkook’s one selfish bastard. He will always put himself before others. Taehyung immediately knew Jungkook was attracted to her; he could tell just by observing the way Jungkook looked at her. But he wasn’t going to let Jungkook have her too. Originally, Taehyung was supposed to be king, but Jungkook was stubborn and wanted to fight for the title. Taehyung didn’t want to fight his best friend, so he willingly surrendered.

30 minutes later, he finally arrived at her apartment. She quietly thanked Taehyung for the ride, then got out. However, Taehyung turned off his engine and got out of his car. “I’m staying with you tonight.” Without question, she nodded her head and grabbed Taehyung’s hand. She was terrified of what was going on. Of course she wanted an explanation, but Taehyung seemed to be protecting her. Therefore, she thought it’d be the best to stay with him until she knows exactly what’s going on.

She opened her apartment door and set her purse and jacket on the table. “I’m gonna go shower… Make yourself at home... I guess.” She mumbled the last part and headed to her bathroom until Taehyung stopped her. “Mind if I join?” Taehyung hinted he needed to talk to her so she said yes. Meanwhile, Jungkook plopped down on the couch with his arm behind his head. “Got any bourbon?” He yelled and she responded, “the cabinet behind you has all the liquor I own.”

Taehyung pulled her into the bathroom and hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry! I fucked everything up for you.”

“Taehyung, what are you talking about?” She worriedly asked. Taehyung looked at the door then quickly turned the shower on. “We have to be quiet. He might hear us.” “Please tell me what’s going on! Who is he? How did he get inside your car?!” She whispers as calmly as she can. “His name is Jeon Jungkook. Next month, he'll be announced king of hell. He’s a very powerful demon and currently, he’s looking for his queen. Someone who can be the mother of his children and someone he can somewhat tolerate. Y/N, he has his eyes on you. You need stay around me, so I can protect you. I know I hurt you not too long ago, but trust me on this one. Jungkook has anger issues and if he gets a hold of you, you will be his punching bag for eternity.”

“Demon? King of hell? Are you hearing yourself right now?” She whispers louder, being unable to control her anger and concern. “I’m not lying, Y/N. How else did he get into my car. Do you remember our conversation in the car? He said he didn't like the human world.”

“What about you? What are you?!”

“I’m a demon too.”

“Prove it because I don’t believe-” Taehyung towers over her and his eyes turn black. His teeth become insanely sharp and black, thick horns start coming out of his head. She stood there, staring at his true form. She reached out and touched his cheek which was freezing cold. “Demons are real?” She faintly whispered. “Take your clothes off. He’s coming.” Taehyung’s out of his clothes in a blink of an eye but she didn’t want to remove her clothes. Taehyung heard Jungkook getting closer, so he ripped her clothes off and pushed her in the shower. He followed behind and pinned her against the wall, kissing her forcefully. “He’s looking through the door, pretend you're enjoying it so we're unsuspicious.” She surprisingly listens and returns the kiss. Taehyung picks her up, and she wraps her legs around his waist, allowing him to enter her. “Moan loud for me, baby.” The girl digs her nails into his shoulder and releases her needy moans.

Jungkook was standing in the door way, watching Taehyung fuck the living out of her. What he would do to be in his position. A part of Jungkook was telling him to kill Taehyung and take his place. However, the other half of him knew that it would create a war between the Kim’s and the Jeon’s. Centuries of feuds have been going on between the two families and it finally ended when Taehyung’s father made a peace offering and Jungkook’s dad happily accepted. From there on, Taehyung and Jungkook grew up together as best friends. Jungkook stopped himself from making a big mistake but continued watching the two fuck.

Taehyung came in her one last time before pulling out and cleaning her up with some water. She clung onto Taehyung because she had no more feeling in her legs. Her clit was burning from the overstimulation, but she wasn’t complaining because it felt so good. He carried her back to her room and wiped her body off with a towel. Jungkook went back to the couch and tried to relax his mind. For some reason, her moans kept playing in his head and before he knew it, he was hard. “Shit!” He angrily muttered.

After tucking Y/N in, Taehyung came to the living room to see what Jungkook was doing. Jungkook was leaning on the balcony railing, staring at the full moon. “If you want, you can crash at my place.” Taehyung said, fiddling with his house keys. “Nah, I think I’ll stay right here… By the way, your girlfriend is hot. If she ever wants to have a threesome, tell her-”

“She doesn’t, Jungkook. One man is good enough for her.”

“That’s too bad. Well, tell her if she gets tired of you she can come to me any time and anywhere.” Jungkook cockishly smiled, raising one eyebrow. “Stop with the jokes, will you?” Taehyung's voice got deeper because he’s had enough of Jungkook’s irritating comments. “I’m going to bed now. Sleep on the couch or wander on the street, I don’t care. Just don’t kill anyone.” Taehyung said before leaving Jungkook alone on the balcony. “I'll try not to.”

Taehyung opened the door and saw Y/N struggling to fall asleep. He quickly got into her bed and pulled her into his comforting embrace. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here now.” He carefully laid her face on his chest then ran his fingers through her smooth hair. “I love you so much. You don’t even know how long I’ve been watching you.”

“How long?” She whispers back. “First year of university was when I first saw you. Ever since then, I’ve been looking out for you.” She giggled and wrapped her arms around his body. “Why didn’t you talk to me?” Taehyung smiled, remembering why. “I’m a little shy.” She climbed up his chest and kissed him on the lips. “Is he gone?” She asked, tracing lines on Taehyung’s chest. “He’s gonna crash on your couch. Sorry about him, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay.”

Soon, silence took over the room and the girl fell asleep on Taehyung’s chest. Taehyung continued to play with her hair and trace her back until the door slightly opened. He saw Jungkook in the doorway and sighed. “What do you want now?”

“Her.”

Everything happened rapidly. The door swung open and all Taehyung saw were 2 red eyes staring him down. Before he could react, Jungkook knocked him out and pinned the girl’s body down. He entered into her sore cunt, causing her to wake up. As soon as she saw Jungkook’s face, she started to scream and fight. “Stop! Taehyung, help me!” She shook Taehyung’s body, but he was unresponsive. “What did you do to him?!”

“Shut up and cooperate with me or else I’ll take you to hell.” Jungkook swiftly got into a better position and let his raging boner free. The bed frame began banging against the wall harder and harder each time. Y/N was in a state of shock. She didn’t know what to do. Jungkook viciously thrusted into her and held her down by her neck. “No! Please! Stop!” Jungkook flipped her around and took her from behind. He spanked her ass multiple times, leaving his hand print on her skin. He pulled out and got up from the bed, dragging her along with him. “Look at yourself, you fucking slut.” Jungkook pulled her hair and forced her to look at herself in the mirror. “Watch me fuck you, slut. If I see your eyes aren’t open, I’ll slit your family's throat and send you pictures.”

“No! No! Please don’t! I- I won’t close my eyes, I promise.” Jungkook thrusted in again and had no mercy on her. Tears were rushing down her face but didn't once close her eyes. Jungkook deliberately went faster seeing if she could handle the pain. It took a lot out of her, but she didn’t want to put her family in danger so she listened to every order. Jungkook continued fucking her hard. He could sense the fear that was taking over her body. She was shaking and silently crying, but it merely encouraged him to go faster. At last, he pushed his whole length in and came deep inside her. She squirted around him and collapsed on the floor. “No more, please” “Get on your knees, now!” She whimpered but got on her knees. Jungkook didn’t waste a second to shove his whole cock in her mouth. He grabbed her face and started fucking her throat as fast as he could. After some time, hot cum was running down her throat as he finally pulled out. The poor girl was choking on her own saliva when Jungkook clutched her hair and spat in her mouth.

Jungkook wanted to go for another round, but someone hit his head, knocking him out. Jungkook fell to the floor, revealing a conscious Taehyung. He immediately picked her off the floor and hugged her tightly. She started sobbing on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. We have to leave.” He quietly spoke. Taehyung quickly cleaned her up and gave her some warm clothes to wear. He carried her out of the apartment and into his car. He quickly dialed someone’s number and stepped on the gas.

“Hello?”

“Jimin! Take your fucking brother back to hell. He’s lost his fucking mind. He knocked me unconscious and raped my girlfriend.”

“Holy shit! Where is he?”

Taehyung quickly informs Jimin of Jungkook’s location.

“I’ll pick him up. Just find a safe place, Tae.”

“Yeah, I will.”

—————————————————-

After receiving the call from Taehyung, Jimin rushed to Jungkook. He was still on the floor, passed out. “How hard did you hit him, Taehyung?” Jimin muttered before bringing Jungkook back to hell and chaining him up.

Jungkook woke up with his head pounding. He groaned and looked at his surroundings. “What the hell?” He spoke in a raspy voice. “Wake up, brother. Taehyung informed me you were up to no good.” Right, that bastard Taehyung, he thought. Memories of last night came rushing to his head and he couldn't help but smile. “Where’s Y/N?” Jungkook asked, replaying last night in his head. “Y/N? As in Taehyung’s girlfriend?”

“Don’t call her Taehyung’s girlfriend. Soon, she’ll find her way back to me.”

“Brother, I knew you were absurd, but fucking Taehyung’s girlfriend? Really?”

“You’ve never seen her before, so you won’t understand. But as soon as you get close to her, I ensure you, you won’t be capable of controlling yourself.”

“I’ll see for myself.” Jimin said before getting up and closing the heavy metal door, leaving Jungkook alone.

————————————

1 month later

After the incident with Jungkook, Y/N and Taehyung got into a serious relationship. Every single day, Taehyung worked on becoming stronger to protect his beloved. He felt remorseful for placing her in this kind of situation, so the least he could do is protect her. Y/N was deeply in love with Taehyung. At first, she kept telling herself she only wants him around so he can keep her safe, however she couldn’t help herself. She let go of what he did in the past and focused on the present.

“Taehyung! I’m home!” Taehyung pops his head from the kitchen and she swiftly runs into his embrace. “I missed you.” She pouted her lips and kissed him. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I missed you more.” She giggles at his response and pecks him all over his face. Taehyung picked her up and sat on the couch with her on his lap. A sweet make out turned into a heated one quickly. She tugged on his shirt then removed it for him and he did the same for her. “How about we try something different?” Taehyung placed her on one of his thighs and placed both of his hands on her ass. “Ride my thigh, angel.” She started moving slowly, unsure of how it might feel. Once her clit started getting some stimulation, she kept going faster and faster, falling apart in Taehyung’s arms. She clenched and came around nothing while Taehyung attacked her tits with his mouth. He left a trail of hickeys all over her upper chest. Taehyung came in his pants just from watching her and feeling her juices leak onto his thigh.

They both eagerly kissed each other until Y/N pulled away. “Can we go out for dinner? I don’t feel like cooking today.” She panted, playing with Taehyung’s hair. “Of course we can.”

——————————————-

The long-awaited day had finally come. The crowd was larger than it ever had been. Everyone came down to watch the ritual and pay their respects to the new king. Torches were pointed downward, symbolizing death. In the middle of the stadium, there was a massive platform. On the platform, there was a throne, a crown, a pentagram and a tied up angel for the sacrifice. Jimin and his father stood side by side, wearing black suits. The crowd went silent when everyone detected a compelling, cold presence. Jungkook revealed himself from the shadows in his true form. He was shirtless with only a thin fabric wrapped around his waist. He walked to the platform and laid down on the pentagram. Everyone knew, this was the beginning of a new chapter.

Moments later Jungkook was screaming in pain. His body became a portal for all the previous kings. They were passing their abilities down to him, resulting in Jungkook's chest and back being burned. Everyone in the audience stood up and started chanting. Jungkook sat upright and headed towards the angel who was pleading for mercy. He manipulated his sharp nail and slit their throat, killing them in a matter of seconds. He attached his mouth onto their neck as the chanting got louder. The warm, thick liquid gliding down his throat was incredibly addictive. Jungkook could feel his power triple in seconds. He tossed the deceased angel away like a rag doll then faced his people. He stretched his wings and grew out his horns.

“I am honoured to be your new king. Thank you to everyone who came to watch the ritual. Please know I’ve acknowledged your presence and respect. I greatly appreciate it.”

Everyone applauded for Jungkook. Surviving the ritual requires an enormous amount of strength. Jungkook has proved to everyone that he is worthy of being king.

——————————-

“Are you ready? I feel like I’ve been waiting forever.” Taehyung said, sitting down on the couch. He was dressed up in his black suit and tie, looking flawless like always. 5 minutes had passed, and he still hadn’t heard a word from her. “Angel? What’s taking so long? Do you need help with your dress?” Taehyung walked back to their shared bedroom only to see Jungkook holding her down with his sharp nail on her neck. “I’m giving you two options, Taehyung. Let me have her, and I won’t hurt her or, she dies, I take her back to hell and torture her for eternity. What will it be, Taehyung?” All Taehyung saw was red. Without realizing, he changed into his demon form and attacked Jungkook. He managed to get him off of her, but strength and power wise, Taehyung was no match. Jungkook punched him over and over, until his nose and jaw was broken.

“Fuck you, Jungkook. I let you have everything! I gave it all up for you because I wanted to be a good friend! One good thing happens in my life and you fucking take it away!” Taehyung yelled, managing to punch him one last time. Y/N sprinted off the bed and rushed to Taehyung’s side. She didn’t care that Jungkook was there, all she cared about was Taehyung. “Taehyung! You’re bleeding! What should I do?! Should I call the ambulance?!” Taehyung looked into her eyes and his heart softened. Tears were streaming down her face. She was actually worried about him. Even after he revealed his true form, she stayed by his side. Does that mean she loves him? Taehyung slightly smiled. “I’ll be alright, love. I’ll heal by tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t.” Jungkook interjected as he got up and kicked Taehyung’s head. “STOP!” She screamed, protecting Taehyung with her body. She wrapped her arms around his head so Jungkook couldn't kick him. “C- can’t you see he’s hurt?! Leave him alone!” She bawled. “I’m not going to leave him alone until he makes a decision. So Taehyung, what will it be?” Taehyung wrapped his arms around her waist, refusing to let her go. “There are billions of other people in the world. Why do you want MY girlfriend?!”

“Don’t question me, Taehyung. Now give me her, or I’ll have to forcefully take her.”

Y/N started sobbing on Taehyung’s shoulder. “Please don’t take him away from me. I love him. Please don’t.” She begged, her tears staining Taehyung’s shirt. Jungkook was slowly starting to lose his temper. He massaged his temples then grabbed her arm, prying her off and away from Taehyung. “If you don’t come back with me to hell, I’ll kill Taehyung right here right now. Or better yet, I’ll make you help me kill him.”

Y/N began to shake. “Please don’t hurt him. I’ll go back with you.”

“No! Y/N he’s going to hurt you! Jungkook you can kill me but leave her alone after I die. You break the promise and will die too.”

“No, Taehyung! I can’t let you die! You can’t leave me alone!” Jungkook pushed the girl back and kicked Taehyung in the stomach. “If you want her so badly, you’re going to have to fight me.” With that, Jungkook turned around, picked her up and disappeared. “NO! Shit! Shit!” Taehyung cursed at himself.

Once again, he failed to protect his love.

——————————————————————————

Uhhh, hi🤠

This is terrible and I’m sorry if it doesn’t live up to your expectations. I completely understand because many people have been waiting for this fic to release and it’s not even good. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed what part 1 has to offer. At first, I didn’t want to make this into a series because I’m very inconsistent. However, I had a sickening plot in mind that I really wanted to do, so the next best option was to make this into a series.

I know, not a lot of Jimin was in this, but the next couple of parts will have him.

xoxo,

naina❣️

[yeoldontknow]

smoked peaches ↣ jhs (M)

↝ A/N: a sequel to Molotov Cocktail | because i truly could not leave these two alone ugh i love them. happy valentines day! i hope you enjoy!     ↬ DISCLAIMER: absolutely, under no circumstances should alcohol or cocktails be used in a manner such as this. food play is fun only when its safe, and cocktails dont really have any place in the bedroom. furthermore, essential oils should be used safely! ↝ Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (oc; female) ↝ Genre: established relationship au; pwp; smut; romance; fluff ↝ Summary: Three years into your relationship with Hoseok, you have learned what it means to be truly happy. With him, you are seen, understood, and adored - and not once, even despite all your flaws, has Hoseok ever asked you to change. So when Hoseok starts to become withdrawn and quiet during the brief hours you have with him at night, you assume it’s down to stress at work. You never imagined it would be this, something so much bigger than any obstacle you’ve confronted before or will again. Something that will last forever. ↝ Rating: NC-17 ↝ Warnings: explicit language; explicit sex; dom!jhs; dirty talk; food play (cocktails); unprotected sex; heavy petting; dry humping; blindfolds; biting; marking; oral (f); breast play; use of sex toys; clit biting; clit spanking; creampie; overstimulation; multiple orgasms ↝ Word Count: 14.5K ↬ written for the bon appetit collab with @jamaisjoons​ @yoonia​ and @chillingkoo​ \\ thanks to @jenmyeons​ for reading parts of this and offering endless encouragement <3 

‘God, I’ve missed this.’

Pulling back from your lips, Hoseok whispers his affection with unprecedented conviction, the longing in his voice so tangible your chest tightens in the wake of it. 

Unwilling to open your eyes, you remain still, luxuriating in the feeling of his breath as it wanders over your cheeks. The cascade of warmth is a tickle that tugs at the corners of your lips, a smile of pleasure emerging at the feel of his closeness. Languidly, he presses his fingers into the nodes of your spine, seeking out the pressure points that always ignite colours behind your eyes, his touch alone giving birth to little fires beneath your skin. Eager and lonely, you lean up, searching for his lips, his mouth, his tongue; searching for more - so much more. 

Hungrily, he returns to you, proving that he had not drifted far - not really. Bumping his nose against yours, he is playful, sinful, a paradoxical combination of both that has your grip on his neck tightening as he nips gently at your bottom lip. He’s smiling, too, a beam of delight against your lips that grows wider with the strength evident in your touch. Feather light, he drops brief, teasing kisses to your lips, not nearly enough for you to feel satisfied, and so you huff in frustration, wiggling to get closer.

Amused by your needy enthusiasm, he chuckles to himself quietly, a rumble in his chest that reminds you of thunder. This laugh is one of your favorites, the sound of a man contented by your presence - by the way your legs are draped over his thighs; by the way you have pressed yourself against his chest; by the way you are utterly, impossibly insatiable, matching his thirst equally, earnest in your desire to be encompassed by his embrace. 

Slowly, you open your eyes, wanting to see him, to chastise him for separating from you so soon, but are instead left bereft. Hoseok consumes your vision, his adoring eyes, his wet lipped, unwavering smile the only thing you see - all yours, all for you, as he rubs the tip of his nose against your cheek. City lights pour through the floor to ceiling windows, illuminating the pronounced length of his cheekbone. Even this late at night, the light still seeks him, his skin, nestling beneath his pores and offering him an otherworldly glow. The unnatural shades of the billboard signs, yellow fluorescent lights of the high rise apartment buildings, and the bright neon of the game arcades blend together, ensuring that he radiates with every colour and shape of the life you have built together among the clouds. 

Tonight, the billboard along the highway is a rich crimson, the persistent reminder that it is Valentine’s day flooding into the room. When you came home, Hoseok suggested leaving the blinds open, eyes full of mirth as he stated he to let the whole world in, tonight; with his arms around your waist, he said he wanted to show the world how love and romance really looks. Now, enveloped around you, you know he means it.

Tonight, he wants everyone to witness this - the possessive way his tongue explores your mouth, the unwavering grip he maintains around your waist as his hand drifts from your spine to the gaps between your ribs, and back again. Hoseok wants the world to see how years with the same person, the same body, the same routine diminishes nothing, perhaps, only causes the love within your souls to become insistent and ardent. It’s grown deeper these past few months, your yearning for him evolving into the very genetics of your DNA, a piece of your chemistry, eternally. 

Hoseok left the blinds open, and still he glows not unlike the rays of sun. Beneath your hands, he is resplendent, undiminished by the artificial radiance of neon. The moon hangs in the center of the sky, not yet at the height of her arch, but she has become washed out by the luminescence of the city. Hoseok is unmarred - late at night and still he outshines the universe, the brightest thing you have ever seen.

Your hand cups his cheek, thumb running over the bone to catch the light that clings to him. It hugs him in ways it does not hug you, a part of him that remains incandescent and unexplained. You’ve never been able to understand it, spent your days kissing and kissing at it in the hopes of sharing the luminescence he radiates. It never works, though he says you glow too, a radiance brought to life because he chose to love you in spite of all your incorrigible flaws.

Walking your hand along his cheek, you tilt your head and wind your fingers into the hair just behind his ears, heart stuttering in its rhythm as he sighs in pleasure. The dimples of his cheeks almost emerge, almost bloom to life, but he keeps them as a secret, choosing instead to rest his forehead against yours in devotion.

‘I’ve missed you,’ you murmur, not wanting to interrupt the peace that has come to occupy the four walls of your living room; the bone deep comfort that has blossomed between your chests.

Separating just slightly, he leans into your touch, craving more and more of your affectionate caress. ‘You’ve been busy with the auction.’

‘Not so busy.’ 

Shaking your head, your pout feels petulant, youthful in its disagreement. Letting your hand slip from his hair, you wiggle deeper into the hard muscles of his chest, blinking distractedly at him as his own fingers worm their way under your shirt. Gripping the collar of his black shirt, you sigh, a flush heating your cheeks as the simplest of his touches sends electricity down your synapses. To be touched by him, to be in love with him, is to feel and love absolutely everything, your awareness heightened to its peak.

Always, you prefer him this way - hair unkempt and eyes glossy with devotion; prefer the nights when has abandoned the suit and tie of his usual work clothes in favor of his old university shirts and grey sweatpants, discarding the persona of Jung Hoseok to unravel into your Hobi. It happens less and less these days, ever caged by the success and importance of Hopeworld, his chain, his business, as much a fixture at the Fairmont Hotel as the valet parking. 

When you met him, he was in a suit. When you fell in love with him, he was in a simple shirt and jeans, a smile tucked into the corner of his cheek that demanded you crave him, and now your yearning for him is relentless. 

Sustaining your childish pout, you drag your hand down his chest, tracing the shape of his pecs and ribs as you let the pads of your fingers find his arm, gliding against the vines of his tattoo. 

‘Sometimes,’ you mumble absentmindedly, watching the petals in his forearm disappear beneath your touch, ‘I come home and you’re not here. I’ve been busy with the auction, but it feels like I’m always missing you.’ 

Head tilting back against the couch, Hoseok sighs, lips downturned with regret. Still, his hold on you is unwavering, immovable, only tightening in the aftermath of your lament. 

‘I’m not mad,’ you say hurriedly, earnestly, voice thick with sincerity. ‘I just miss you.’ 

In truth, you are not angry, not even really upset at his long absences. If you’re honest with yourself, you couldn’t be more proud of the business he’s built with his own hands, relying on nothing other than the strength of his determination to succeed. Little distracts him from his purpose, unencumbered by the opinions of anyone other than himself. 

The lights of Le Bernardin seemed to dim as your father sat back in his seat, tapping the corner of his mouth with the expensive egyptian cotton napkin. Bitterness rose on your tongue, the flavor of your wine souring as you watched him posture the pretense of politeness for so long you wondered if he had even heard Hoseok’s announcement. 

‘I won’t help you,’ he announced, tone empty and expressionless save for the severity of the derision that swam in his eyes. 

From where you sat, you could feel the apathy, the admonishment and expectation that Hoseok would fail at opening, managing, and cultivating his own bar before he had even started. Thousands of arguments hung dangerously in the air, hovering above the table with threatening closeness. It was heavy, oppressive with reasoning and judgemental logic that he did not have a degree in business; that a mixologist was not a manager; that corporate holdings and the economic legalities that came with running a business were beyond him. It was not, you knew, that your father didn’t think he was smart enough - it was, you were certain, that he simply deemed Hoseok wasn’t worthy enough. 

Your father’s stare remained icy and unforgiving as you gripped Hoseok’s thigh, nails digging into his skin through the thin fabric of his trousers as your tongue prepared to sever your father’s iron will. After years of this sort of combat, you were used to becoming venomous, used to shaping yourself into a creature of malcontent, the spitefulness of your contempt the armor you regularly wore. For so long, you had worn it like a second skin, felt most like yourself  under its scathing anguish. For Hoseok, you would become monstrous, ugly; would grow fangs and claws and teeth in the glory of your wrath, but he gripped your thigh in kind reassurance and smiled as though hardly anything had happened at all. 

Settling back against your seat, you scowled unforgivingly at your father’s passive expression. He cocked a tempestuous brow at you, a challenge though not necessarily a warning, which you mirrored, always so good at looking exactly like him. 

‘It’s ignorant to presume someone would ask help from a person who is not willing to even offer it,’ Hoseok said patiently, amiably, so much better at different tactics of aggression. 

You never had it in you to adorn the sickly sweetness of polite averice. You’d never wanted to be misunderstood. 

‘Besides,’ he continued, removing his hand from your thigh to cut into his filet mignon. ‘That bar will be mine, not yours. You have a habit of claiming possession over the things you let into your life, and I’d rather burn in hell than watch you claim my name as another wasteland for your empire.’

Head whipping to look at him, your eyes went wide, suddenly so aware of all the ways in which light gives way to shadows, of the way light reveals absolutely everything. You’d grown used to the way rage gave birth to ugliness within you, but he wore his anger like a tantalizing weapon. You were moved by him, arrested into an uncharacteristic silence around your father, but Hoseok continued, magnificent in his slow reveal of his true humanity. 

‘The bar will be mine,’ he pressed, glancing up from his plate and undeterred by your father’s scathing glare. ‘The money will be mine. I’m just telling you to be polite, because that’s what good sons do even if their fathers are worthless to them.’

Two years later, and the money is indeed his - the money, and the glory, and all the fame that comes with a chain centered in the lobby of the most expensive hotel conglomerate. Two years later, and he has a chain in his name, a business of his own, a life of his own making, even if it meant that there are countless, painful hours in which he is not, and cannot be, with you. 

‘I know.’ His sigh is deep, a long huff of breath through his nose in shame. Staring up at the ceiling, he considers his words carefully. ‘I’m sorry. It’s been...’ For a moment, he drifts, lost in thought as he lowers his gaze to search your face, though for what you cannot be sure. His scrutiny is heated, intense, eyes roaming over your features over and over until you’re certain he could paint your likeness if asked. ‘It’s just been frightening,’ he announces, finally. ‘I’m not worried, really, it’s just the Hotel’s name is wrapped up into it, too.’

Peering at you carefully through his eyelashes, his grip on your waist tightens, and you feel him everywhere he is not. Hoseok roots inside you for answers to questions left unvoiced, reacquainting himself with all your intimate details. You are not certain what he seeks, why his apology is quite so sincere, and so you let your hand return to his cheek, smoothing all the edges out of his features. 

Eyes fluttering closed, he holds your palm there, and you find yourself distracted both by the softness of his skin and the way the light illuminates the tattoo adorning his arm. Idly, you wish you could stay like this eternally - together, unencumbered, enraptured. Valentine’s Day has never been worth celebrating, not to you at least, but he is worth celebrating, and so you lean forward, kissing at his jaw to remind him of this sentiment.

‘It’s your first time with an inspection of this size.’ Your suggestion is soft, a soothing cadence you hope is evident in the lilt of your voice. Walking your hand up to his temple once more, your card your fingers through his hair, relishing the thickness of the strands, offering tenderness where your words might not. ‘Your license is on the line. Trust me, no one understands better than I do. You don’t have to apologize.’

Months of this, months of coming home to an empty bed only for Hoseok to climb in later, when the hours night drip into the morning. Government inspections are not new, but now with three bars under his belt, and all the inspections happening at the same time, he’s been distant. Not on purpose - never on purpose, but you feel his absence like a blade whenever the house, the bed, your life is empty of him. 

‘Yes I do.’ Falling forward, he buries his face into your neck and breathes in deep, taking the scent of you into his lungs. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you smile at the feeling, blood warmed with rapture. ‘I hate not being home with you, but I promise it will be worth it.’ 

Hoseok accentuates his words by grazing his teeth against the tendon in your neck, his favorite spot to bruise. Usually, your skin is purpled by him, consistently red and aching with the marks of his teeth and tongue, but lately the visible proof of his attachment to you has faded. You’ve missed the burn of it, the stinging delight that would last for days. Latching his teeth to your skin, you shiver into his hold, pressing your fingers into the muscles of his back. The wet texture of his tongue against your skin has you shivering, a quake that starts in your bones first until even your heart is trembling with it. 

‘I know it will,’ you hum, stroking his hair, unashamed of the way arousal pools at your groin. 

Since dinner finished, you’ve been here, with him, kissing and kissing to reacquaint yourself with his lips. Your underwear has been damp since the first stroke of his tongue against yours, and you’re certain he’s felt you clenching around nothing, craving and anticipating the feel of him between your thighs. 

‘But I hate how this one is making you so anxious and quiet.’ Slowly, you take your time guiding one of your hands to the back of his neck, nails scratching into the soft, thin hair at the base of his hairline. Holding him in place, you revel in the feel of his mouth moving against your skin, in the way his shoulders expand and retract as he breathes as if making way for wings. ‘I miss my sunshine boy.’

Hoseok chuckles against your neck, replacing his tongue with a cascade of warmth exhaled from his nose. ‘I’ll repeat that you’ve been busy, too.’

An impish smirk unfurls in your expression, and gathering the strands of hair at the crown of his head, you tug gently until he is pulled from your neck, blinking at you with an innocence you know can dissolve in an instant. His lips are swollen and wet from kissing your neck, the base of your jaw; all red and pink, smooth skin so enticing and the sight only serves to invigorate the thought that burns behind your teeth.

‘My love,’ you begin, sweely, ‘I’m sure I could regale you with the legalities of museum auctions, but I think we both can agree there is something far, far more worthy of our attention.’

The pads of your fingers trace idle patterns over the tendons in his neck, down to the base of his shoulders, around and into his ribs. Reaching between your bodies, your curious fingers seek the hardness of his erection, the evidence of his intense arousal pressing vigilantly against your thigh. Cupping the semi-hard girth of his cock, you offer a gentle stroke as you twist your hand. Darkness lives inside his groan, equal to the darkness that clouds his eyes, half lidded as he looks at you in warning. 

The thin material of his fleece sweatpants does little to conceal the way the movements of your hand send blood and heat directly into his cock. Beneath your palm, it gradually hardens, straining against the cloth to be reunited with the feeling of your bare palm. You’re confident he can feel the heat that emanates from your core, your folds starting to leak with wetness each time he breathes through his parted lips. Each stroke has his exhale filling the silence, raising the hairs along your arms, his hips starting to thrust upwards into your hand.

It’s a dangerous game to play with him, a test of his control and dominance that always ends with you at the mercy of his lust. Just as quickly as it started, he presses one hand to your hip and taps your thigh with the other, an unspoken signal that he wants your thighs straddled on either side of him, your core presses against the tip of his clothed erection, your body against his, an unstoppable force of desire that succumbs to his will, only.

Quickly you adjust, releasing his cock only to replace the pressure of your hand with the pressure of your core, the heat from your folds and the dampness of your legging having you both exhale in unison. 

‘Oh, fuck,’ he moans, easing your hips down roughly against the tip of his cock. ‘Come here.’

Once more, he works his hand beneath your shirt, warm palm journeying the length of your spine until it is gathered around his arm and your neck is gripped by the strength of his fingers. Cupping his face, you press your mouths together, grinding your hips downward as you run your tongue over the seam of his lips. Instantly, he opens for you, tugging at your hair in a gentle reminder he wants you to move slowly, to let yourself enjoy the feeling of being consumed by him. Hoseok is unhurried in the way he explores the cavern of your mouth, the tip of his tongue curious as he thrusts the wet muscle in time with the slow grind of his hips. 

Your responding whimper echoes deep into his open mouth, and your hands move slowly down to his shoulders where you brace yourself, clinging to the parts of him that exude strength. His physical presence alone is a keen reminder you are whole and not undone at your very seams. 

All sense of time disappears as you suck at his tongue, and only when he pulls away to catch his breath do you latch your teeth to his bottom lip, pulling back to you with greed. His lips still taste of the whiskey he had with dinner, whiskey and the flavor that is only him, so unique and rich, your favorite sort of honey. 

The tip of his cock moves in a rhythmic motion, over and over, a slow drag against your covered slit. Every third movement, he rocks upward, pressing against your folds hard enough you gasp into his open mouth, only for him to retreat a moment later. A high pitched keening whine spills from your chest, and he laughs into you, pulling his tongue back to relish the way he has complete control of your responses. Digging your nails into his muscles, your brow furrows, doing your best to gather your words, your thoughts, amongst the insistent teasing pleasure. 

Falling forward, your forehead rests against his, and with your eyes closed your senses become heightened. You can see it, imagining this very scene as though you are both completely present in your body and apart from it, watching him grind into you as your blood races to your chest, your cheeks, your cunt. The whiskey on his tongue has your mind fogged, and the graze of his cockhead against your slit has your limbs feeling weightless. He’s always been skilled at this, at rendering you needy, silent in the magnitude of your wanting. You thought pleasure was never meant to overwhelm a person like this, an addiction to sound and touch and taste that exceeds all realm of perception.

‘I’m glad we did this,’ he mumbles against your lips, using his thumbs to work bruises into the flesh of your hips. 

All you can manage is a mindless nod, the motion sending your nose bumping into his as you press yourself harder against him. Smirking, he angles his face downward, kissing at the spot just below your ear. Electricity saunters down your synapses, and you thug your bottom lip between your teeth, uncertain how much longer you will be able to maintain this teasing game. You, above all else, are an impatient woman, deciding that which you crave most and claiming it for yourself. 

Now, you want him. You want him to lay you on this couch and peel your clothes off with his teeth. You want him, his cock, so deep inside your cunt you can taste him on your tongue. You want him, his skin against yours, with no space for air to slip in between. 

You have always been impatient, but Hoseok is a master of his self control, always more composed if not patient; always in command of his expression of thirst, and he pulls back slightly as he feels your slow wiggle of restlessness against his thighs. 

‘Never thought we’d be a couple that has to make time for something like this,’ he comments, as though you have not soaked the very tip of his cock through his sweatpants, as though he cannot feel it at all.

With each rock of your hips, your underwear slides over your folds. Now coated with the slick substance of your juices, the thick juices spill out from the sides and onto your thighs. Your leggings, too, are drenched, a sensation that would otherwise be uncomfortable were it not for the way Hoseok rolls up into you in time with the movement of his tongue over your neck. Your sense of awareness has scattered, absconded to the parts of your body where only his touch exists. He is all you can focus on, all you want to focus on, the feel of him on and against you deemed the most important of all.

It takes work finding words to muster a reply, and you hate that he is so skilled at maintaining stability in his voice. You are best at sparring matches, at defending your worth and value, a tension you have become expertly accustomed to. From the moment you first kissed him, felt his tongue at the tip of yours, felt his muscles beneath your fingers, you have learned tension of this kind is your great unmaking. 

Frustrated you huff through your nose, a noise of annoyance diminished immediately by a moan of ecstasy as the tip of his cockhead presses roughly against your covered clit. Scratching your nails into his skin and hoping the marks will last, you struggle to gather your composure, wanting to play his game as well as he. Yet, when you open your eyes, you are confronted with the impenetrable black of his dilated pupils - his tell - that he is just as ravenous as you. Always, he wears the light as though it was born from him, made by his joy alone, but when he wears the sheer darkness of his appetite he becomes utterly exquisite, a sinister promise of his wish to unravel you.

Swallowing thickly, you tilt your head to the side in mock consideration. 

‘I think every couple is at some point,’ you muse, feigning a pensive tone as you grind roughly into his cock. Hoseok bucks upward, whispering quiet expletives as his eyes widen. Your smirk of victory is a tempest, an ignition of gasoline to the fire he keeps beneath his skin, and he holds you in place against him, preventing you from moving. ‘They just don’t talk about it.’

Hoseok hums in consideration as he moves his lips to the center of your throat, right over the place where your voice echoes. As he drags his teeth over the tendons, your head falls back, clenching your thighs around his. 

‘I’ve missed you.’

He presses the words into your skin, embedding the rich tenor of his cadence directly into your blood. Your pulse quickens, directly responding to the feel of him replacing the oxygen in your vessels. Your grip on his hair tightens, tugging him upward and hoping to ease him back to your hungry mouth, wanting to kiss him again. But he pulls back, regards you through the length of his eyelashes and shifts his hips, moving the tip of his cock down towards the center of your folds. He lingers there for a moment, and you curse the clothing that separates you with a whimper of annoyance. 

His hands move from your hips to the ample flesh of your ass, where he grips your cheeks with vigor and rolls your body forward. ‘I have half a mind to fuck you right on this couch.’

Eyes fluttering closed, you lick at your lips, all swollen and red, sighing in pleasure. ‘Then why don’t you.’

‘Because I have another surprise for you.’

Abruptly you open your eyes, feeling the mood shift as your arousal is put on pause. Lowering your gaze, you eye him conspicuously, pulling back enough you are not longer in the throes of his orbit. With each passing moment, the adrenaline in your veins shifts from the eroticism of your carnal longing to dazed confusion, blinking at him as you catch your breath. 

Years with him and not once have either of you felt it necessary to buy gifts on Valentine’s Day. You are not a gifting couple, choosing instead to share all the little things that make up the life you have built: your time, a meal, hours in bed together, or hours alone - somewhere special or nowhere at all; a restaurant or your couch, each a persistent reminder that you have chosen one another. The small simplicities of your life and daily routine are more about your love than a gift of chocolate, a card full of words you would rather hear him say. Your commitment to him extends beyond a social media post, beyond a tagged location and the withering petals of discarded roses. 

For him to suggest this, after he has already prepared a meal beside you, after you have stained the wine glasses with your lips, after you have told him, repeatedly and ardently, that you love him is a shock to your system.

‘I…’ Your voice fades, the guilt gripping your throat. A lump forms, not of woeful regret but of fear, the utter horror of ever seeing him disappointed. ‘I didn’t get you anything. I’m sorry...we said we wouldn’t. We aren’t the type?’

‘No, no,’ he shakes his head quickly, removing his hands from your ass to rub at your arms. ‘I don’t want anything. I’ve had the world since you ordered a negroni in the middle of summer.’

Cocking your head back, you laugh loudly, the sound echoing off the high ceiling. ‘I swear, one day you will move past that.’

‘Never.’ The brilliance of his smile would almost overshadow the intensity of his disagreement, but you find it a compliment, a reassurance that your idiosyncrasies are the things that endear him to you the most. ‘Most beautiful person alive to ever order a negroni.’

‘You’re just saying that cause you weren’t alive in the forties,’ you scoff, though you match his smile, always moved to delight by the sight of him.

Hoseok shakes his head. ‘Even then.’

For a long while, you simply stare at one another, luxuriating in this closeness as you remember: the night you met, the orange peel on the rim, Namjoon - who has become one of your closest, dearest friends - ordering the drink with surprise on his cheeks; Hoseok, leaning over the bar, close enough he could smell you, and both of you, drawn to one another’s orbit, lonely moons fated to collide. 

‘But no,’ he sighs eventually, the weight of it changing the mood of intimacy you had cultivated. Not eradicating it, not entirely, but something about the way he looks at you has your nerves resting on edge. ‘It's not a gift. Not really. It’s a drink.’ 

Leaning back, you settle away from his cock and onto his lap, curious and cautious. ‘For the new menu?’

‘No.’ Once more, he shakes his head, slowly, seductively. The movement of his head, the way the hair falls into his eyes as he smiles and smiles dances over your heart, a thunder against your sternum. ‘No this one is just for you.’

‘All these years,’ you smirk, ‘and still you think you can pull me away from my negroni?’

Now, it is his turn to laugh, a hearty sound that has you moving back over his cock, victorious. 

‘Baby, trust me, I’ve long since given up that fight.’ Again, he regards you, though this time you catch traces of all the thoughts that race through his head, a glint of affection matched with a glimmer of something hopeful, though you cannot imagine why he finds a drink so serious. ‘This is different. This drink comes with a set of requirements.’

Cocking an eyebrow at him, you tilt your head to the side in question, but he says nothing. Instead, he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to your lips as he taps his hands on your thighs, a signal he wants you to get up. Swinging your leg over his thigh, you settle on the couch, folding your hands in your halp expectantly, but he does not linger beside you. Rising to a stand, Hoseok grabs both your hands and pulls you up to meet him. 

‘What’s going on?’ you ask, glancing around the room, bewildered. 

‘So many questions,’ he sing-songs, pressing his hands to your shoulders as he turns your body you are facing forward, away from him, and begins walking you through the living room. 

Turning to look over your shoulder, you do your best to regard his expression but he lifts one hand and taps your cheek gently, wordlessly advising you to face forward. His thumbs rubs slow circles into your shoulders as he walks you to your bedroom, where he lowers his hands to your hips and pulls you against him. 

Immediately, you recline into the toned muscles of his chest, resting your hands over his as you sigh in delight. Relishing the closeness, you breathe together for a moment, enjoying the silence and the air of romance he so easily rekindles. It’s always been like that with him, so simple, all your passion and all your ardor brough to the surface the moment he lays his hands on you. 

It’s different in this room, where the blinds are closed, where the world is cast out. In the living room, your longing had space, room to breathe and crevices to fill. Now, it clings to your skin, cloying in the way it moves through your pores and into your lungs. Every breath you take is filled with his cologne, every exhale is an utterance of your need, a whine at the back of your throat that threatens to disrupt the quiet way you take your time savoring his attention. Still, he does not give you the opportunity to consider the room beyond these feelings, nor does he allow you to turn and face him, to regard the face you long to kiss and kiss and kiss until he is a permanent fixture in your spirit. 

Easing your hair over your shoulder, making space and granting himself access to the supple skin that so often goes untouched, he kisses deftly at the back of your neck as he moves a silk blindfold over your eyes, blocking your vision. The silk cools your heated cheeks, and in this darkness the smooth texture feels almost forbidden, clandestine in the way he removes your senses and demands that you trust him, implicitly. Raising your hands to touch it, you slide your fingers over and over along the threads as he ties it securely at the back of your head. 

Furrowing your brow, you cannot help the chuckle that blossoms at your sudden realization. ‘Is this one of your ties?’

Burying his nose in the crown of your head, he nods, nestling it into your hair as he breathes in deep. ‘Looks better on you, in my opinion.’ 

Instantly your mental image of the bedroom dissolves, fading into nothingness until your senses are overwhelmed with all things Hoseok: the rich clove and bergamot of his cologne, the rhythm of his heart as it beats against your back, his lips as he wanders down and down to the shell of your ear. Even still, you see him with your whole spirit, his smile against your skin entering your heart, taking root and filling the nodes of your lungs with visions of his euphoria.

‘I want you to strip,’ he commands, voice low and full of gravel. A growl lingers at the back of his syllables, and your mouth runs dry. ‘Get undressed and stay silent. I want you naked and waiting on the bed for me.’

Against the blindfold your eyes open, and your eyelashes struggle against their confinement, another wave of arousal dripping through your folds at the sound of his voice. You are aware of absolutely everything, all the way down to the fibers of your clothes, senses brought to attention by the implication of his words. Hoseok has adopted the tone he only uses when he means to make you kneel in worship, exerting his dominance as a show of the magnitude of his affection. So rarely does he speak to you with such power and control, your muscles tense in willing obedience. 

His voice saunters through your very existence, your nipples erect and sensitive as they press against the cotton of your tee shirt bra. You hadn’t planned on wearing lingerie, haven’t needed to since your first Valentine’s together when he said it didn’t matter what you wore or how you dressed, all he wanted was you naked beneath him and anything else deterring this was viewed, in his eyes, as an obstacle. Had you known he was planning something, you’d have planned, too. 

‘Be good for me,’ he whispers, nipping at your earlobe before he departs from the room entirely, your body shivering in his absence. 

The seconds that pass feel like an eternity, your heart racing as you gather the strength of your senses, reigniting the muscle memory of your bedroom. All over your body, you sense the energy of things, objects, certain you are near the bed without even feeling it. Diligently, you begin to undress, hands shaking as you reach for the hem of your shirt. Careful not to shift or undo the blindfold, your slow removal of your clothing feels ceremonious, a ritual of preparation for something holy. In the darkness behind your eyes, this room becomes your sanctuary, each removal a prayer of obedience and commitment. 

As you ease your leggings down your legs, the strong scent of your arousal reaches your nose, and you part your lips from the intensity. You’ve been on edge from the very moment you felt the first stirrings of Hoseok’s cock within his sweatpants, from the very moment your tongue met his. When he returns to the room, he will smell how terribly wet you have become, how much of a mess you have made of yourself just for him, because of him. 

Stepping out of your leggings, you reach behind your back and undo the clasp of your bra, each touch of your own fingers sparking a new world of lust as colours bloom behind your eyes. Your hands tremble, but your heels press into the hardwood of the floor, rooting yourself within the gravity to ensure you do not drift from the force of your desire. 

Discarding your bra, the air hits your breasts and you move to cover yourself, only to ball your hands into fists and return your arms to your sides. Hoseok does not like it when you hide, a habit you have learned to unmake beneath the heated intensity of his unwavering, loving gaze. With him there, you have learned not to cover yourself, but when there is only nothing, you wonder now why your first instinct is to hide, why the vulnerability of such exposure has you feeling young, unfamiliar with the significance of such eroticism. 

Relying on muscle memory, you move towards the bed and perch carefully on the edge of the mattress. The air in the quiet room is wrought with unprecedented tension, your senses scattered to every surface as your hair stands on end.

Even though it’s unnecessary, even though the silk blindfold is heavy against the bridge of your nose, thick enough to block out all the light, you still keep your eyes closed. The silence of your bedroom is deafening, oppressive in its effort to intensify the eroticism of this darkness. Gnawing your bottom lip, you strain to hear just what he could be doing in the kitchen - what else there is to be done - but you hear nothing. All the quiet seems to accomplish is heightening the ever growing reverberation of his command in your mind, an echo control that haunts even the marrow of your bones. 

Like always, Hoseok inspired the full totality of your obedience with just one sentence, stripping his voice of all sunshine, all warmth, rendering you naked down to your nerves; the only one to ever live inside you, so deep. Your neck still burns, right above your pulse, right where he’d kissed his words, the fire of his open mouth removing all your clothes before your shaking hands could undo the rest. The fervent laughter that always nestles in the end of his syllables, in the corner of all his smiles, was absent, and now you are left anticipating him, craving him, hoping that you will be good for him - that you will be the wick he decides to ignite.

Rolling your shoulders back, you raise your breasts and keep your posture straight, poised, hoping that he will be pleased when he sees you. You cannot remember the last time you felt so exposed, so utterly raw in your nakedness. When you came home, the apartment felt too warm, the heat raised to a limit that always makes you feel uncomfortable. Now, you are trembling within it, skin and nerves tender, forced to acknowledge the full length of your body; the supple texture of your sinew, the voluptuous curve to your breasts, the slope of your hips, the dripping folds of your sex.

In this silent loneliness, you are left to contend with the reality of yourself - to recognize all the pieces of you he adores.

Still, the anticipation of his touch, his breath, has your hands fisting in the sheets, and you laugh. He’s changed them, the fabric of the duvet softer, smoother than the thick cotton you often prefer. The texture against your skin raises gooseflesh along your arms, a shiver taking its time to walk up the length of your spine. All of this softness, all these delicate fabrics against your skin, and all they create is a cage of your longing. Too long have you been left wanting him, missing him, and now he means to entrench you in it.

Now, he demands that you experience just how badly, how desperately, he has been wanting you, too.

The bedroom door pushes open, a sound usually so innocuous, so meaningless, causing your walls to clench around nothing. Grimacing, you take in a sharp breath to apologize or comment on the messiness of this reality, but you remember that he told you to remain silent, and so you force your lips to close. The sheets will be stained by the end of the night - of this you are certain. Nothing, you’re sure, will wash away the remnants of your desire. 

The further he walks into the room, you are overcome with the intense aroma of peach and cinnamon. Such delicate scents overtake the space, maximized in their power, wafting over and into you, until you’re certain you could taste it on your tongue. Hungrily you salivate, and so too does the wetness between your folds seep leisurely through your slit, as if motivated by the ghost of flavor within your mouth. 

Accompanying this scent is the light clinking of glass, and your ears perk up at the first trace of noise. Hoseok remains silent, but you can distinctly make out the silver swizzle stick he uses to mix drinks gliding along the rim of a glass. Recently you’ve heard it in the late hours of morning, before dawn has the opportunity to kiss the sky. He stirs and stirs, your bed empty and your hand resting on the space where his body had been, mattress still warm. Usually, this very sound eases you back to sleep, a comforting night song that kisses your sense when he cannot. 

Now, the high pitched rattle is a sting against your nerves, a call to attention and reverence. 

But this too does not maintain your attention for long. There are other noises, other clattering sounds of metal, plastic, and something else you cannot quite make out that alert you to an assortment of items - a tray, a selection, and, suddenly, mist. As Hoseok approaches where you sit, a gentle, cool fog passes over your skin, and you reach your hand forward to let it slip between your fingers. It sticks to the all the minute, normally unnoticeable crevices of your skin before dissolving, a whisper of sugar and honey that settles against you as if by magic. Before you, hidden behind a blindfold, a rich meal, a just dessert, has been laid out, while Hoseok views you in kind.

Tendrils of mist add to the moisture and heat in the room, the sweetness raising the temperature against your skin as your arousal swirls expectantly in your belly. The darkness that surrounds you has your skin feeling tender, ripe muscle taught with wanting, and you lean forward, seeking the relief of Hoseok’s lips against your soft, malleable pieces.

Reaching forward through the mist, you seek the tactile solidness of his touch. ‘Hoseok?’ 

You cannot help the exclamation of his name, an oath of allegiance and questioning of what mystery he has brought into the room, hoping he will say your name to fill the room with his voice. 

‘Ah, ah,’ he cautions, and though the commanding nature of his voice still lingers, the sound of something other than your beating heart in your ears is an extraordinary relief. ‘I said to remain silent. Only speak unless I tell you to.’ 

Pouting, the retraction of your hand is swift, and your fingers furl into the bed sheets as you acquiesce to his wishes.

Hoseok moves the swizzle stick through the glass, once, twice, before he hums pensively. ‘Do you know why I became a bartender?’

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you shake your head, certain that any answer you would give is not the one he is seeking. When you were new together and newly in love, you asked this question as you laid with him in bed, running your finger over his heartbeat. So much of your first start was centered around you, the war you waged with your father, your question of worth for things that chose you instead of you taking it as an act of defiance. You wanted to spend the rest of your days learning about him, learning his thoughts, his war, and his answer was a journey of money and consequence. 

Over time, you’ve learned the journey was one creation, of inspiration as much as necessity.

‘Do you have a guess?’

Parting your lips, you focus on finding your voice, the stimulation surrounding the darkness so potent all your words come slowly. ‘You like making things. You like pleasure.’

‘Good,’ he praises, and you preen delightedly, offering him a wide smile full of love and pride. ‘Do you know why I became a mixologist?’

Hoseok places the tray on what you presume is the top of your dresser across from where you sit, but you both feel and hear him move to the side where places something in the nightstand at his side of the bed. You focus your attention on these movements, letting your mind come to several of its own conclusions, all wholly unrelated to his question. 

Had he also stripped while he was away from you? Is the amber golden texture of his skin on display, concealed from you by a simple strip of fabric? How does his tattoo shift in this light, the blossom of the bird of paradise just as rich as the fruit that fills the room?

You imagine all of it - every color and texture and shape of his body, certain you have learned every nuance of his being down to the very bone. These thoughts entice you, but so too does the thought of another of his praises, an encouragement that has you hurriedly responding to not keep him waiting any longer. 

‘Passion.’

‘Close. Similar.’ Hoseok moves to the tray on the dresser, and you strain to discern the things he touches, unable to come up with anything beyond the obvious drink he had created. ‘It’s like perfumerie,’ he explains, shifting items along the tray and stirring the drink once more. ‘I think everyone, at some point, wants to bottle the thing they find most beautiful. They want to wear it, permanently. They want the smell to wet the tongue, to inspire the possibility of skin on skin, to provoke the curiosity of more. Mixology is like that, but you don’t wear the drink, you taste it. You have to hold it in your mouth, until it becomes a part of you.’

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you wait patiently for the closeness of his body in the ensuing silence and consider his explanation. He’s always been like this, passionate to a point of burning, his drive running deeper than you can ever comprehend. Every time you come close, it has changed, his every moment of creativity sparking a more enduring affection for his craft. 

Hoseok walks closer to you, but still chooses to remain just out of reach, far enough you can feel the magnetic chemistry of his closeness and your skin begins to ache. Childishly you raise one hand, reaching for him and hoping to pull him against your skin, but he does not move, only chuckles at your display of indignant neediness. Instead, he releases a slow hum of breath through his nose and taps the swizzle stick against the rim of the glass, delaying your reunion even further.

‘You’re like that,’ he continues, the rich intonation of his voice a thick syrup that molds over your skin. Placing the swizzle stick back on the tray, Hoseok inches ever closer, the pads of his feet against the floors a rhythm that incites a riot of excitement in your heart. With him, he brings more mist, more spice, more peach, all of it waftering onto your chest and mingling with the perspiration that has started to coat your sinew. A moan of thirst worms its way through your chest, a keening, tiny sound of impatient defeat.

Finally, when he is close enough the steady exhale of his breath joins the fog in tracing patterns over your sternum, your jaw, your lips; his presence, an instigation of juices that drip once more through your folds and onto the sheets. You want to say his name, want to talk, want to reach your hands out and cup his cheeks to bring his lips to yours, but with each continued speech, Hoseok sounds more and more serious, and you obediently remain quiet. 

‘That is what you are,’ he repeats softly. ‘A whisper that is always on my tongue. A taste I can’t seem to quit.’

He bumps against your legs, and immediately you spread them wide, luring him into your orbit. The act separates your folds, allowing more of your thick juices to drip into the bed and changing the scent that fills the room. The mist is persistent, a tingle of pleasure that walks down your nerves, and now with Hoseok between your thighs, the warmth that radiates from his aura overtakes your senses. He’s everywhere, nowhere, a ghost that haunts your bones and spirit, and you tilt your head back, looking upwards into the nothingness, waiting for his lips. 

‘I made this for you, because it is you,’ he murmurs, though the proximity of his voice is a wildfire. ‘I call this drink the Whisper Blend. It’s how you taste to me, how you make me feel. I wanted to bottle you for myself, to keep you with me, always.’

HIs hand comes to cup your chin, guiding you in a direction you imagine is perfectly poised to accept his tongue, his mouth, his soul.

‘I want you to taste yourself.’ All the gravel of his voice, arousal and seductive intent, reaches into the caverns of your heart, gripping you completely. ‘I want you to taste how you make me feel.’

Gripping the edge of the mattress tightly, you lean forward, pressing your chin into his fingers. Your nerves run haywire, electric and scattered, and you are certain that were it not for your bones your spirit would erupt absolutely everywhere to press itself against him. Hoseok takes a slow inhale, long and deep, and lowers his mouth to your lips. On instinct, you part for him, expectant and eager to experience the way he feels when that is all there is - no sight, no sound, just his touch, holding you because he can, and because he wants to. 

Still, he does not kiss you - not really. Gently, he exhales, and an abundance of peach fills the cavern of your waiting mouth, the rich flavor invading the crevices until it dissolves leaving only his breath. The cocktail smoke dissipates on your tongue, a sweet residue left behind that has you humming in pleasure. Pulling back, he breathes in again, the smoke shifting around your body as it is pulled into his mouth. When he returns to you, he presses his lips to yours, this time pausing in the contact of this kiss, before he exhales once again. 

Unable to help yourself, your hands come to cup his face, holding him there as you inhale, moving your lips in a slow, reverent motion. Again, the smoke dissolves into the ether, leaving just the distinct, sweet flavor of his mouth against yours. His fingers massage slow circles into the bones of your jaw and chin, his own sigh a waterfall down your open throat. When he pulls away, you suddenly feel disdainful of the tie that covers your eyes, wanting to take your time admiring him, the flush at his cheeks that you feel beneath your fingertips, the glimmer of hunger in his eyes.

The third time he returns to your lips after a full inhale of the mist, he comes to you and lets his tongue press languidly against yours amongst the smoke. You hadn’t expected the intrusion, moaning in utter satisfaction at the fulfillment of your desires. Idly, he strokes his tongue over yours as he kisses you, exploring the parts he had coated with sugar and peach. With each motion, your inner walls clench around nothing, folds slick with and sticky against the bed as your parted legs do their best to hold him in place. You’ve become utterly overcome with the intimacy of sharing breath, and sharing yourself, your heart racing to shatter the hard bone of your sternum.

Desperately, your cunt aches for this kind of attention, for the invasion of something solid and thick, stroking at the places that live deep inside of you. Focusing on the emptiness of your core, you moan dejectedly, walking your hands into his hair where you fist handfuls of the strands to deepen the kiss. This, he only allows for a moment, relinquishing his tongue only to bite at your lip before sucking eagerly at it. And all too quickly, he pulls away and guides your chin upward to carefully tilt your head.

‘Drink,’ he commands, pressing the cool glass to your swollen bottom lip.

With your eyes closed, it’s difficult to drink and anticipate the flood of liquid, but Hoseok maintains complete control, sustaining a slow flow of the cocktail into your waiting mouth. On impact with your tongue, colours blossom behind your eyes - rich crimson of cinnamon, pale yellow, purple for the floral of lavender, and clear white for the sharp bite of vodka that lingers after the sweetness fades. 

Hoseok has bottled a dessert, a warm summer that bleeds into the first chill of autumn. In a single glass, he has contained an aroma of life itself, a richness full of crisp dreams that refuse to fade over time, zeal and ardor, passion in a glass that overwhelms the difference between life and living. He said this was you, your taste, and you choke slightly on the drink as emotion wells in your chest, the action causing some of the cocktail to spill out from the corners of your lips, down your jaw as it drips onto your chest and breasts. 

Immediately, he pulls the glass away, and you catch your breath only for it to be swiftly taken away. Placing open mouthed kisses across your chest, he laps up the stray remnants of the cocktail, using the tip of his tongue to lave your skin clean. Your hands tremble where they hold his head, breath coming short and heavy in your lungs as he moves down, and down to the top of your breasts. He wastes no time in biting delicately at the supple flesh, leaving a mark against your body for only you both to see. 

Releasing his hand from your chin, his touch vanishes for just a moment before he swipes two fingers over your nipple, digits drenched with the cocktail. Swirling them over the sensitive, hardened bud, your body reacts instantly, invigorated by the sudden overwhelm of contact. Bucking your hips against the bed, you urge him for more, wanting his mouth where his fingers rest. Sensing your impatience, he drags his tongue down to the swollen bud and flicks it with the tip before rolling it between his teeth.

‘Lay back for me,’ he commands, pulling away from your breast, and this time you smirk. His voice is a rasp of taught strain, the edges of his control beginning to fray. ‘Lay back and spread yourself.’

Without any hesitation, you obey, releasing your grip on his hair to press your palms into the mattress, pushing yourself back and back until the thick cushion of the pillows presses into the base of your spine. Spreading your legs wide, wider than you could before and wide enough you are confident he can see the way your slit glistens with slick, you rest your head against the headboard and lower two fingers to your core. Knitting your brow, the contact with your neglected folds as you gasping in relief, the pads of your fingers gathering all the juices that have gathered, smeared over your thighs, and still leaking from your center. Quickly, they become coated, this likely the wettest you've ever been simply from his endless teasing. Taking two fingers, you rub them over your slit before parting your folds, forming your fingers into a wide ‘V.’ Clenching your inner walls, more juices drip from your core, down your ass and into the sheets, forming a new stain for you both to admire. 

As you expected, the sight of your spread cunt has Hoseok growling, and you feel the mattress dip beneath his weight as he joins you on the bed. Somehow, you sense that he crawls to you, a hunter on the prowl, and you imagine how he looks now based on the all the times you have seen him like this before.

With your insides still warmed from the cocktail, your skin begins to flare with heat, demanding the feel of his hands against your for fear of your bones coming undone. You can feel him between your thighs, the ripples of magnetic waves of his closeness sauntering through your muscles. So too does his breath tickle the supple sinew at the inside of your thighs, a cascade that seems to travel along your nerves and directly into your opened core. The texture of your fingers at the swollen flesh of your cunt is a tantalizing sensation, though it does not provide the relief you seek. 

This stretch is a display of your wanting, but it is not nearly enough to satisfy the ache that lurks in your belly, your core, all the way to the barrier of your cervix. Any other night, and you would demand he fill you completely, but even now you are uncertain you could gather enough strength to be so demanding. 

Impishly, Hoseok takes hold of your knee and bites at the inside of your thigh, so close to where you want him most, yet far enough you cry out in shock and frustration. Hands fisting in the sheets at the sensation of his teeth grazing over your skin, a feeling that travels all over your body, as though his teeth are everywhere all at once, your back arches off the bed, presenting your breasts to the open air. His name builds at the back of your throat, the only word you think you could manage, a short set of syllables full to the brim with your primal yearning. 

As if sensing your will to speak, always so aware and in tune with your needs and the responses he pulls from your body, Hoseok smiles against your skin, kissing and kissing.  

‘It’s okay.’ Your muscles clench, feeling his voice trickle into the marrow of your bones. He kisses his words into the apex of your thigh before running his nose up to your center, where he rests the tip at your parted folds. ‘Say my name.’

‘Hoseok,’ you exclaim, pressing your spine into the bed to shift your parted lips closer to his mouth. 

‘Fuck,’ he curses, releasing your thigh and pulling away. He shifts on the bed, reaching for something he unscrews not far from the bed. ‘My name sounds best coming from you.’

Rubbing his hands together, he returns to his position between your thighs, the blindfold preventing you from watching him. This is your favorite sight: him, between your legs, a hungry beast who regards you with his heart first. He looks good between your legs, even better with his lips covered in your juices, and so you wiggle your hips impatiently, running your fingers over your slit before pressing them inside, taunting him. 

‘I told you to be a good girl,’ he threatens darkly, pushing your hand away with his wrist. Settling between your legs, Hoseok finally holds your hips, fingers coated with an oil that sends a shiver down your spine. Through the aroma of peach and cinnamon, mint begins to blossom, clearing the air and sending tingles of excitement over your nerves, a winter on the brink of your bedroom’s autumn. 

‘Peppermint oil,’ he explains, rubbing his fingers into your muscles in a slow massage. Yet, there is no relaxation to be found. Lowering himself to your folds, he places a wet, open mouthed kiss at your slit, letting the tip of his tongue press at the seam of your drenched core before retreating. Crying out, you roll your hips forward, bucking up to seek his tongue once more. ‘I want you to tremble in it, the warmth and the chill. Do you know how often you unmake me? I want you to feel it.’

Again, he lowers his lips to your folds, stroking his tongue through your slit and against the sensitive walls of your core. A strangled cry rumbles through your throat, a moan of ecstasy at something thick and solid penetrating your core. Unfurling your hand from the sheets, you reach down and rest your hand at his head, intending to hold him there so you can rock your hips against his mouth, but he retreats immediately, clicking his tongue in derision. 

‘Are you trying to take control, baby?’ he sneers, his hold on your hips tightening as he rubs the oil deeply into your skin. ‘I know how much you hate to give it up, but tonight your job is to receive.’ You feel his eyes wander over your wanton form, studying the voluptuous curve of your breast, the part of your lips, the perspiration that has gathered at your neck and beneath your breasts. ‘You can touch me,’ he amends softly, ‘but no pressure. Just touch. I’m the one who dictates how hard and how fast tonight.’ 

With that, he returns his tongue to your slit, curling it inward to collect the juices that have gathered at your core. Returning your hand to his head, you card your fingers through his hair as your cry of ecstasy fills the room. Unable to keep yourself still, you roll your hips forward, into the stroke of his tongue to urge him deeper, and he growls, the vibration of his voice careening through your joints. 

‘Oh, fuck, Hoseok,’ you whimper. 

He sets a steady rhythm with his tongue, plunging your folds with a vigor that feels almost brutal. Having no real contact to your cunt for so long, wanting him for so long, and no longer being able to see him, you cannot remember the last time the feel of his tongue inside you was such an intense sensation. Warm and wet, the muscle explores your core, your walls clenching around it as a new wave of juices leaks from your cunt into his waiting mouth. It soaks the flesh of your ass, his lips, the bed. Over and over, he pushes his tongue into your cunt with unfettered ardor, thrusting ever deeper with piercing intensity, doing his best to collect every drop while simultaneously stroking every nerve that comprises your walls.

Tension builds in your muscles, thighs taught with the magnitude of your arousal as you drag one foot over his ribs, over the smooth muscles of his back. In silent praise, Hoseok removes a hand from your hip and walks it up your side to cup your breast. The oil at his fingers chills the swollen nub of your nipple, and you clench once more against his tongue, quivering with fervor. Between the knuckles of two fingers, he clinches your nipple, the slight pain of oversensitivity combatting the unbridled pleasure at your core so harshly you moan out his name, feeling tears beginning to prick at the corner of your eyes. 

Pulling his tongue from your folds, he moves it to your clit and begins the same attention, flicking it with his tongue. Shuddering, you fist one hand in your hair as your other clings to his for some semblance of sanity. But your Hoseok is always relentless in the way he delivers pleasure, in the way he chooses to pleasure you, and the remaining hand at your thigh drifts away for just one moment. The pressure does not leave the bed, and so you know he has not gone far, but against the blindfold your eyes widen into darkness at the sudden click of a vibrator.

Brows raising to your hairline, your breath catches. ‘Ho-Hoseok?’

Wordlessly, he simply rolls his tongue over your clit in time with the way his knuckles massage at your nipple. You hear the sound of the vibrator inching closer until, all at once, it is pressed to the barrier of your slit as he sucks harshly on your clit, nipping at it gently. The tremors from the toy ripple up into your thighs, juices spilling out from your slit as your arousal courses through the totality of your existence. You suppose you have always been in this state, have always been trapped in such a volatile state of craving, your spine pressing into the mattress to ground yourself to reality. 

Without any warning at all, Hoseok sucks deftly at your clit once again as he presses the head of the vibrator through your slit. Your walls part around the toy, its vibrations cascading even into your bones, and you clench around it, hoping to lure it deep inside of you. Biting your tongue, you keep yourself silent, wanting to say more than his name, more than just a few curses. Pleas for him to fuck you ruthlessly live and smolder to ash against your teeth, an impenetrable barrier of obedience you are unwilling to break. 

Palming your breast with the whole of his hand, he massages the oil into your skin, another shiver of frost against the bruising summer of your flesh that has you groaning. As you grind down against the toy, he proceeds to trace figure eights with the tip of his tongue against the hardened bud of your clit, thrusting the toy all the way into your cunt. The thick girth of the toy and the vibrations now filling the whole of your core have you releasing a scream of surprise, back arching off the bed once more as though preparing to sprout wings. 

Hoseok fucks the vibrator into your relentlessly, almost ruthless in the pace he maintains in time with the motions of his tongue and the hand at your breast. Your orgasm builds just as mercilessly, a tightening coil at the base of your spine that turns your muscles to steel. Juices spill over from your foils, the damp patch of sheets beneath your waist soaked, and you’re certain he must be soaked as well, the mental image of it inspiring a choked gasp within your lungs. 

He knows you like it this way, intense, unforgiving, each thrust bordering on painful to ensure that you will feel the ache deep within for days. Long after he is gone, you want to resonate with him, haunted by the ghost of his seductive prowess, unable to liberate yourself from his clutches. With each inward thrust of the vibrator, your walls clench, hoping to hold it in place as the whisper of your orgasm builds within your muscles. The heat is almost oppressive, your breath a heavy fire in your lungs, tongue slick with the embers of each howl of pleasure you have worked to contain. 

The vibrator is not set to a very high level, this toy one of your shared favorites. You have grown familiar with the sound and the shape and the feeling, but somehow no longer seeing the toy or seeing Hoseok as he uses it has every aspect of it feeling new, foreign, the level of this toy infinitely stronger than any other you might own. And, paired with Hoseok’s skilled mouth, you doubt anything could ever compare again.

The curl of your fingers into his hair is a give away, the muscles of your arm sore with the effort of not pressing him harder, deeper against you, and your hand quakes with the effort of remaining the pretense of passivity. Instead, you direct this motion into the roll of your hips, meeting the toy thrust for thrust as you rock against his open mouth, fucking both the toy and his tongue as he suck s your clit. Sensing your impending orgasm, Hoseok growls, the rumble joining the vibrator within your walls. 

‘Oh,’ you cry, soft enough you think it might be missed over the sound of his wet sucking and the thrum of the toy. But still this exclamation is a betrayal, and you are swiftly proven incorrect.

Releasing his lips from your clit, he rests his head against your bent thigh and breathes heavily. ‘Are you looking to cum?’

Unable to speak, you nod furiously against the pillow, the swell of your impending climax lurking just at the edge of your perception. Yet, he is dissatisfied with your silence, and abruptly turns the vibrator up to another level. The sudden increase in intensity sends a quake through your thighs, your hand releasing his hair as you slap the bed, groaning in response.

‘Talk to me,’ he urges, gentle yet still maintaining his tone of authority. ‘Use that pretty mouth of yours.’ 

‘Please, let me cum,’ you cry, caught in a battle of holding yourself back, panting into the open air and unashamed of how depraved you might look. ‘I need to cum.’

‘You know this is all for you, baby.’ Moving off your thigh, you feel his breath return to the wetness of your core, each exhale from his nose cooling the drenched spit and slick at your clit and slit. ‘Make sure to leave some for me though.’

Offering a rough flick of his tongue to your clit, he sucks at the bud and thrusts the vibrator into your cunt, turning up the notch one more time. The blunt head of the toy brushes against your spot, pulling a choked moan from your chest in surprise. Eyes wide, yet empty, you peer at the expanse of black in a daze, mouth opened in a silent scream. Your orgasm comes swiftly, violently, shattering all resolve you had managed to maintain. Rivulets of your juices spill from your cunt, and Hoseok’s lips suck diligently at your clit, occasionally letting his tongue drift downward to join the toy at collecting the traces of your cum. 

In the aftermath, you convulse into the bed, and Hoseok pulls the toy from your core. Crawling up the bed, lays his body over you and finally you can feel that he, too, has been naked this whole time. Skin against skin, he holds you against him, rubbing his hands over your ribs as you quake with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Limbs feeling boneless, heavy, you wrap your arms around his back and cling to him, tears drying against your cheeks. 

The head of his cock lingers at your entrance, threatening to breath through your sensitive folds. Burying his face in your neck, he breathes against you, tossing the toy to the other side of the bed.

‘I need you inside me,’ you announce, driven to a brink of insanity in the throes of your climax. Forgetting the rule to remain silent, you toss it aside, damning it, needing the girth of his cock bearing down at your cervix. 

‘Did I ask you to speak?’ he rasps into the tendons of your neck, where he bites.

‘No,’ you manage, ‘but I’m going to.’

Removing a hand from your side, he burrows his hand between your bodies and slaps at your clit. The sudden pain against your swollen, sensitive nub has you calling out his name. The sensation of your tenderness wanders all the way up into your throat, your lungs reverberating with the harshness of his slap.

‘You want me to fuck you?’ His words come with an impish smile, followed swiftly by a bite to your pulse that has your hips bucking up against his cock. 

The head of his cock protrudes deeper through your folds, but he pulls back and once more slaps your clit, a tap to the nub that has you groaning. 

‘Please,’ you whimper. ‘I can tell you want it, too.’

Gliding your hands down the expanse of his back, you palm the cheeks of his ass with your full fist, guiding him closer in the hopes of pressing him inside. Hoseok releases an expletive against the beat of your pulse, the flow of your blood rushing to his lips, hoping to be kissed. The feel of his teeth grazing over the thunder of your pulse has your legs widening to ease him deeper, muscles straining at their limit. Kissing down your neck to your breast, he sucks the erect nipple of your opposite breast into his mouth as the engorged head of his cock sinks deeper into your core.

‘Just fuck me already.’

Pushing down on his ass, you force him all the way into your cunt, pressing his head right against your cervix. His concentration snaps, his eyelashes grazing your skin as he squeezes them shut, shuddering against your hips and thighs. Feeling victorious, you smirk into the darkness, clenching your walls around his cock. Moaning your name, he rolls his hips forward in warning. Hoseok’s moan is an avalanche against your skin, an earthquake of violence that rumbles into your lungs. 

‘Don’t do that,’ he threatens. ‘I won’t last.’

Taking back control, you clench your walls again and meet the roll of his hips with yours, taking him deeper. ‘That’s the point.’ 

Bunching the sheets in his fist, Hoseok sets a punishing rhythm, thrusting abruptly against your cervix and ensuring your walls feel the veiny texture of him drag against the sensitive nerves. Unable to speak, you simply breathe together, sharing breath and sharing life, hoping that the smell of him remains on your skin for all eternity. Every thrust has your thighs shaking, the heavy sack of his balls slapping against your ass. The sound of it joins the moans you release with every press of his cock into your spot, your voice loud and unashamed. You don’t care who hears you, don’t care who you wake, you ensure the celebration of your voice rolls off his skin and into his heart with each gasp of his name. 

Hoseok moans in harmony with you, garbled and broken, as the vice grip of your walls clench his heavy cock. Pleasure ripples within and through you, spreading all the way from your core to the crown of your head, all your senses heightened. No trace of light penetrates the blindfold, and so your mind wanders to every fibre and sense of your body, aware of every texture of his cock, every press of his fingers into your skin, every burn of oxygen in the vessels of your blood. 

The wet sounds of your fucking only serve to reinvigorate the traces of your orgasm. It becomes impossible to focus on anything other than this - the rough pound of his hips against yours and the stretch of your walls around his heavy girth. The brutal pace of his hips sends the bed frame into the wall with each inward thrust, and you relish the pain that comes with his unrelenting force. 

‘Fuck, Hoseok,’ you cry out, digging your nails into strong flesh of his ass. You press crescent moons into the supple skin, leaving your mark against the sun. 

The perspiration that gathered at your hairline grows into beads of sweat, the exertion of meeting his pace causing your body to melt beneath his warmth. Hoseok pants his gasps into your skin, an added wetness as his saliva trickles from his open mouth and down your neck and chest. The liminal space of this fucking nearly unravels you, so used to the feel of his cock buried inside you while certain you have never experienced the totality of it quite this way. In the darkness, there is only this lust, only this passion, and the very weight of it consumes you from the inside, building your orgasm to new heights. 

Hoseok fucks you open, ensuring that no one will ever have you again - as if you would ever let them. Each brush of his cockhead against your cervix is a declaration of possession, a promise of an eternity with his marks against your skin and bones, and behind the blindfold you see your whole life stretch out before him from this moment up until the very last, when your atoms are scattered in their search for his. Reality beyond the border of your body dissolves, your universe beginning and ending where his hips meet yours, and the immensity of the love and lust you harbor for him nestles your impending climax directly at the center of your core. 

Thighs shaking, you clench around him again in warning. But as deeply as you know Hoseok, know the nuance and details of his very existence, he knows you too. Releasing his hand from the sheets, he scratches at your ribs before moving it between your joined bodies, using the blunt edge of his knuckle to massage your clit once more. Still raw and tender from your first orgasm, the contact sends a jolt of pain through your nerves, a yelp of shock bleeding into a cry. Your grip tightens on his ass, and your thighs close tightly around his sides, latching him in place. 

‘Let go of control,’ he says, pulling away from your neck to kiss at your lips with every word he speaks. ‘You’re close, I can feel it in the way you’re shaking.’ 

Certain that your reality is crumbling, your hands move from his ass to the middle of his back, clutching him as your whines increase in pitch and frequency. You feel yourself become dizzy, the scent of him, the scent of peach, the scent of mint, the scent of vodka all over your skin and all over him has your mind fogged with little other than the intense stimulation he provides. 

‘I’m gonna cum,’ you whisper, surprised by the sound of your own voice.

Your orgasm threatens to unmake your very existence, a silent revolution inside the marrow of your bones, and you fight it back just long enough to obey any of his possible commands. But still, it keeps you burning at the edge, a flame only the stroke of his cock against your cervix could coax into an inferno.

Pressing his knuckle deep into your clit, Hoseok urges you to cum without words, without encouragement or instigation from his authoritative tone, easing his tongue into your mouth. Stroking at the muscle, he swallows the scream of your orgasm as your release undoes your sense of reality. The world behind the blindfold erupts, a kaleidoscope of colour brought to life by the swirl of his hand against your clit and the piercing thrust he delivers to the barrier of your cervix, demanding entry to your womb. You want him there, want him inside you always, and you clench around him tightly as your orgasm overtakes your muscles. Your body is an earthquake caged in his arms. 

You, a perfume and a drink, a war and a victory, an earthquake and a hurricane, every season belonging to him alone. 

As you come down from your high, Hoseok only increases the pace of his thrusts, somehow gaining strength at the feel of your juices dripping around his cock. The stimulation stings, and he pulls his tongue from your mouth to let you both catch your breath, your whimpers of pain an echo of the intensity of his cock stretching your walls. The bulbous head of his cock is unforgiving, picking up speed as he breathes against your cheeks. Still, you can feel his own limbs begin to shake, and you attempt to soothe his tremors with tender massages of your fingers into the wings of his shoulders. 

Grunting with exertion, Hoseok becomes speechless as he chases his high, and the tingling pain that once lived at your core soon gives way to another orgasm within your belly. How starved have you been for him? How long have you wanted him? It does not matter, you think, the removal of distractions and the urge to focus only on him has your body pouring its lust into the feel of his cock at the entrance of your womb. Whining, you cling to him once more, joints taught in preparation for another, sudden orgasm. 

The feel of your walls gripping him so tightly causes his hips to stutter, and the incoordination of his impending climax overtakes the power of his movements. With your own orgasm readying in the base of your spine once more, you hold onto him tightly and roll up into his hips yet again, matching him thrust for thrust. 

Only three strokes more and you both come undone, the searing heat of Hoseoks’s cum filling your core as his body shudders in your arms.

‘Fuck, shit,’ he moans, burying his face into your neck as he thrusts each spurt of cum into your cunt. 

Wetness greets your cheeks, the tears from your eyes flowing freely, a surprise and a shock without any vision for them to blur. Together, you breathe in unison, riding the aftershocks of your orgasms until the walls of your cunt burn with the force of your clenching. He collapses against you, breathing heavily as your hand comes to stroke absentmindedly at his core. Every now and then, your walls clench, his cock presses deeper, his cum dripping from your walls to greet the mess you've made of the sheets. 

Time presses on, the world continues to turn, but behind your blindfold the universe is on pause, suspended in only this moment in which you are holding him, he is inside you - softening, but still yours - and there are no gaps between your bones for air to move between. Idly, you suppose this is the paradise many so often speak - an empty mind, a comfort in your limbs that comes only with immense peace, a contentment to your heart that says you are both seen and safe, with no difference to be found between the two.

Eventually, Hoseok removes his hand from your core, easing it up to the blindfold. You smell the traces of your juices on his fingers, and you part your lips, readying to taste yourself as he so often commands you to do. But he bypasses your mouth for the bone of your cheek, where he toys with the edge of the fold. Easing it away from your eyes, he pushes it back to the crown of your head, and you blink rapidly, readjusting to the world. Immediately, you lower your gaze to his face where he rests at your side. 

In unison, you smile at one another, everything looking precisely the same, yet wholly, irrevocably, different. 

‘Hello,’ he whispers, the intimacy of his quiet greeting causing your chest to swell.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, you trace his brow with your thumb, smiling deliriously. ‘I missed you.’ 

This time, there is a difference to this missing, and he chuckles quietly at your joke. You luxuriate in the act of admiring him, taking in the depth of his features. Redness lives beneath his cheeks, a glistening sheen to his skin of perspiration; his hair has been mussed several times over by the fore of your hand and never, not once in the time you have known him, has he ever been so beautiful. Glancing down further, you regard his arm where it drapes over your waist, the tattoo that bleeds up his muscles and over into his back. 

All night you have pressed your fingers into the bird of paradise painted on his skin, but it was not what you saw or envisioned at all. It crosses your mind that perhaps what you envisioned was his spirit, the very essence of his soul - scatterings colours and energy that are both formless and yours.

Almost too soon, he looks away from you, turning to face to the right at the end table. With your vision obscured by the crown of his head, you cannot see what exactly he reaches for, and so you continue to admire the mess of his hair with a small chuckle. He takes his time gathering the item, grasping it tightly in his hand before turning to face you. Slowly, he eases his softening cock from your core, repositioning himself on the bed to linger at your side, legs sprawled carelessly over yours.

‘I don’t have a speech planned,’ he begins, suddenly sounding terribly disappointed. 

Furrowing your brow in worry, you regard him with confusion, cocking your head to the side patiently.

Hoseok raises his eyes to yours, his irises glassy with emotion. ‘We’re not the type, are we?’

Still uncertain what he means, you shrug in reassurance. ‘We’re not the type for a lot of things,’ you suggest, and he nods, seeming distant.

Moving his hand into your view, he reveals a small black box. Breath halting in your lungs, you regard it for a long moment, suddenly aware all over again of the weight that encapsulates the room. Using his thumb, he flicks it open, revealing a rich sapphire ring, dotted on either side with sparkling diamonds. 

‘Will you marry me?’ he asks, looking at you with an intensity you’re certain could rival the sun. 

He must expect you to be shocked, must expect you to have to gather your words, because your immediate, resounding yes, has him blinking wildly, in the same rapid fashion as when you were finally allowed to see again.

‘Yes,’ you repeat, sliding back against the bed to sit up. ‘Yes, yes.’ 

You don’t really think there’s anything else to say, not really. If the universe of your love could be contained in three simple letters, you would give them to him over and over again, until only they comprised your language, your alphabet. 

Wasting no time, he pulls the ring from the box and slides it over your finger, taking his time to let his fingers stroke over your skin. 

‘Mine,’ he mumbles to himself.

The word takes you all the back to the first time you slept with him, to a day when you had been burning with torment, wet from the rain and wet with a passion for a world you wanted to claim. That day, he asked you to be his, and you said yes, an echo of this moment in which you somehow knew it was the only choice to make. Your past self and yourself in this moment are one and the same, time becoming a construct that is meaningless when it comes to him.

‘I told you the first time I was,’ you tease.

‘I know,’ he says, leaning up to kiss deftly your jaw. ‘I just wanted to join you in the war.’