#Where are my murder mystery husbands? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hisunshiine · 14 days ago

Text

—eternal reign | knj |

🥀 pairing: vampire king!namjoon x concubine!namedreader 🥀 au/genre: arranged marriage au, joseon era au, s2l, fluff, smut, angst 🥀 rating: M 🥀 wc: 7,748 🥀 warnings: some Joseon Dynasty research, reader starts as a concubine, mentions of murders, minor character deaths (off screen, minimal detail), patriarchal society, this is a vampire story, so some things come with the territory, like: mentions of blood, dubious consent, blood drinking, bleeding, scars, predator/prey feelings, explicit smut: unprotected vaginal sex, blood play, marking, eating out, nipple play 🥀 an: I used some of the historical figures of the Joseon Dynasty, and while I researched a lot for accuracy of this time period to respect the culture to the best of my knowledge, some historical information has been shifted and molded as this is a fiction story. For more information on Korean Coronation Events. Dual POV of 3rd and 2nd person, but the reader is named.

special thanks to the beta readers: @moonleeai, @colormepurplex2, @downbad4yoongi, @heathfritillary-blog, and @pars-ley

🥀 summary: In the shadowed courts of the Joseon Dynasty, a new King rules—one who holds a centuries-old secret that could unravel the kingdom. Namjoon, cloaked in mystery, is forced into a political marriage with the cunning yet unknowing Taelani, who soon discovers that her husband is no mere mortal. Drawn into his dark legacy and a web of alliances that could seal their fate, Taelani faces a choice: fulfill her family’s long-hidden destiny or defy it in pursuit of a forbidden love. As whispers of blood and betrayal rise, the throne itself may be the ultimate sacrifice.

🥀 an#2:🎃This wicked treat was written for Theresa - @mrsparkjimin18 as part of the “Sweet Tricks & Wicked Treats” BWHQ Fic Gifting Event 🎃and was also written for the @bangtanwritershq’s 4th Quarter Writing Event: Monster Mash

masterlist ❁ ao3

Joseon Dynasty year 1483

🥀🥀🥀Namjoon🥀🥀🥀

Namjoon never expected to sit upon the sacred altar in Changdeokgung Palace, as the recipient of the Three Cheers from the crowd, where the people hurrahed for his longevity and for the dynasty.

“We are meant to rule from the shadows,” the memory of his grandfather’s voice flits through his head as if he’s standing beside him. “An absolute and eternal reign relies on the eternal flame which burns with our dedication and loyalty, and which must remain out of sight from those who wish to douse our light.”

And yet, mere hours ago, under the beating heat of the Korean sun, he participated in the Transfer of the State Seal with Queen Sindeok, listened to the Three Solemn Calls, watched as the Three Kowtows were performed, and returned it with the Four Ceremonious Bows.

The room around him is loud, and Namjoon struggles to focus for a moment as he gazes across the crowded space. The gilded walls encapsulate the refreshments and revelry as the noble families celebrate his ascension to ruler of the country. He looks around, eyes finally landing on his family members split between being wall flowers blending in and meteor showers glittering as they shine across the night sky.

He takes an unneeded deep breath, sighing in his discomfort. He knows it was his idea; something had to be done to maintain the balance in the realm, but he’s not used to being a figurehead for something so much larger than himself—for the very thing he sacrificed everything for to protect.

“Ah, Yi Bang— I mean, King Namjoon, my apologies,” the greasy-haired Chief State Councillor Jeong Dojeon bows lowly in apology at using the given name of the prince and not his newly appointed royal title now that the transition to king has been completed.

That is one upside to this position, Namjoon thinks as he stares at the man. Even if I must hide my identity, at least I am able to keep my true name.

“I wanted to present to you my family’s gift for your coronation.” His eyes, small and squirrely, gleam with a dark intent that Namjoon has always detested. As one of the government officials appointed by the previous Queen’s father, Dojeon craves ultimate power, pushing for the Councillors to make decisions for the King, instead of enacting and enforcing the King’s decisions. “This is Jeong Taelani, my eldest daughter. She is now yours, Pyeha.”

The honorific term is not lost on Namjoon. The Chief State Councillor’s schmoozing actions are as oily as his hair, but Namjoon’s not a squeaking door, and his disdain only grows as he tracks the sweep of Dojeon’s hand towards the girl next to him, as if he needs a concubine to loosen him up.

But Namjoon has to work hard to school his features back to stoic boredom when his eyes fall onto the—unable to believe he called her a girl—beautiful woman standing a pace behind her father.

Red hanbok lace and silks flow over her curves. Gold threading is woven intricately at the hem, along the cuffs engulfing her delicate hands, and at the lapels that tie above the swell of her breasts, glimmering, resplendent swirls that captivate him. He doesn’t show it, though. Despite his next words, his tone is full of boredom and his eyes barely linger on her.

“Thank you, Dojeon, she is a true beauty.”

The older man smirks, rubbing his bearded face thoughtfully. “She has been trained for, ahem, her position—assisting your every need—in the palace her whole life, and vetted through the steps to be placed here just last week. I am sure that you will find her to be up to your standards.” He bows once more, this time much lower, before backing away from the elevated seating area and disappearing back into the party.

“Emperor,” Taelani bows deeply, her knees gracefully meeting the floor as she pays him the respect of a ruling monarch. Her voice is a deeper honey sound, more seduction than the tittering pitch of the female nobles Namjoon is used to.

“Jeong Taelani,” Namjoon tests her name in his mouth, her jasmine fragrance invading his senses as she resumes her previous standing position. Her large eyes look away from his gaze quickly, but that’s all he needs to feel the heat of the lightning they struck him with. He can feel his pants tightening—thankfully, his gujangbok covers his crotch from the view of both Taelani and his attendees.

He stiffens, feeling something else begin to lengthen in need, and he turns his eyes swiftly away from Taelani, looking at the palace guards nearest him.

“Please escort Taelani to her chambers, and send for the Huwon guards. I will meet them shortly.”

🥀

Sharpened ivory glistens under the moonlight before piercing the unblemished bronze skin of the woman’s throat, his venom silencing the beginnings of a guttural shriek before it can really begin. He settles in the gazebo with a jimil nain, or lady-in-waiting, straddled across his lap. Her throaty sounds transition instead to a pleasurable moan as she attempts to grip the lapels of his ceremonial robes.

He grasps her hands, pulling them away from him and moving them behind her back, clutching both wrists in one hand so his free hand can resume controlling her head for his monthly feeding. One that he should not have needed just yet, thanks to the retaliatory massacre last week, but he ignores that fact for now.

The blood fills his mouth, sharp pulls draining the essence from the woman as her movements against his body slow. He’s thankful—her body is not the one he craves to be writhing above him in pleasure, despite her lovely sounds and curves.

He has to play this role smartly. His family’s legacy is on the line. He withdraws his fangs, feeling the dull ache of thirst dissipate fully as his blood lust retreats. The woman is nearly unconscious, and the two guards who brought her approach her limp form silently.

“Thank you,” he says to his younger brothers, both adorned in the traditional wear of the Naegeumwi Royal Guards. They take the woman from him as he stands before the youngest of the two, Jungkook, takes her fully and holds her almost in a lover’s embrace. Namjoon looks at them as he steps several paces away and Taehyung, his other sibling, approaches him and straightens his robes to help him look presentable again.

“NaBi was the only one we could get on such short notice,” he explains quietly as the sounds of Jungkook feeding crescendos and subsequently drops as he heals the bites on the now sleeping woman’s neck. “She was already in Kook’s room waiting for him.”

Namjoon runs his fingers over his silks, tightening the belt at his waist. “Tell him I’m sorry I didn’t mean to mess up his feeding schedule. The hunger just took over and I…”

“He understands.” Taehyung places his hand on his older brother’s shoulder. “We’ve never taken on something like this, so we didn’t know what to prepare for. We’ll move more of the feeders into the palace in various positions, and Jimin can oversee them. Your plan was the best one, and we will find a way to make it work.”

Jungkook cradles the woman’s body in his arms bridal style as he steps towards the door. He and Taehyung lead Namjoon out of the garden and back towards the main palace. Jungkook turns to the left down a hallway after they enter shelter as Taehyung and Namjoon continue toward the Emperor's chambers.

“Have Jimin order more of the blood tea for the feeders. I’m not sure how often I’ll need to feed now that…” he trails off as they walk, thoughts conflicted with this strange turn of events. He stops once he reaches the doorway of his room. “And Taehyung? Discretion, please.”

Namjoon feels the tension leave his body once he is in his own space. He didn’t expect to feel the voracious pull to feed so soon—he drank more than his fill merely a week ago. Typically, he feeds once a month, so the blood lust he just quenched is strange. Could it be because of his new concubine? Her scent is oddly alluring to him, and his attraction to her is undeniable. He hasn’t ever experienced such a thing, but maybe one of the elders knows something more.

🥀🥀🥀Taelani🥀🥀🥀

Confused. That’s how you feel as you are led away from the king, his eyes regarding you cooly before you disappear into the quiet halls of the palace. Your slippers and the silks you wear are the only sounds you hear as you are shown the pathway to your quarters, and then the low hum of the maids' voices as they help you undress and prepare for bed.

The next week continues much the same as your first night in the castle. The other court members are seemingly always busy, leaving you bored and unsure of yourself. On the one hand, you are happy that you haven’t been called upon like you were warned would happen—like you’ve been trained for. Your womanhood remains intact, something you did not expect to happen, but it allows your time of the month to come and go without any issues.

A part of you did fear that your menstrual cycle would agitate the new king should he come upon you that first night, but instead, he had shied away, allowing you time to spend in the royal library reading and writing letters to your sisters. At the end of the first week, you squeal with happiness when a courtier brings you a sealed parchment marked with your family’s crest.

Dearest Taelani,

How have you been? We are so pleased that you’ve had time to write to us. Is it nice there? I so wish we could have joined you on the trip, but Father said no. Are the rumors true? Is the king as bloodthirsty as his predecessors? Is there war on the horizon? Will you be able to throw a fancy ball so we can visit? I know you’re his only concubine right now, do you think you will become his wife? Father is not telling us much, and he’s making it seem like we shall never get to travel to see you.

Don’t forget us!

As if you could ever forget your sisters. And a ball sounds like a lovely idea…really. You wonder if the king would allow you to do such a thing and if your father would allow your sisters to come. Maybe if the king demanded their presence. Your sister made a good point that right now, there’s no one else to compete with for his affections. If you can charm him, is there a possibility..? If only he would see you or talk to you. How else could you convince him of this one favor, or even that you’re worthy of a more legitimate role?

It couldn’t be so easy as to show up at his bedchamber tonight and try and convince him with a well-placed massage? Could it?

Deciding to reign in all of your thoughts, you hold off on writing back so as to see first if you could plan a soiree of some sort, and turn back to the book you were reading before the courtier arrived. It was not written all that long ago, but it details some of the more recent history of the country, including the king’s grandfather.

You had always thought it to be an urban legend, the stories whispered in the dark about when his grandfather was in power, but as you read through the history of the family, you realize with each story of the king’s grandfather that he truly was blood thirsty for power—he apparently murdered all of his older siblings for the throne.

There is a massive family plot to the south of the palace that holds his deceased siblings, and ever since, despite the number of enemies the crown has acquired over the years, his family line has been the only one to rule. Every attempt to maim and murder the royal family has been thwarted, and the groups leading the coups are never to be seen or heard from again. Bloodthirsty isn’t even half of it.

Closing the handwritten tome, you gather your skirts about you so that you can climb off the comfortable lounging spot. You have spent all week reading through to try and understand this family that you now reside with, but all you seem to find is death and despair. Through the window you can see the sun is setting, and now that you have a plan in mind, you decide to seek out the king instead of waiting for him to come to you. With your cycle gone, you feel confident enough to seduce King Namjoon. As his first concubine, you are sure you won’t be the last, but you want to make an impression.

As a woman in this world, your power is lacking. The power you do hold will be in the sons you can bear for the king, and in the ability to wield your feminine wiles to seduce and keep the king wrapped around your finger. Best to start now.

🥀

The palace corridors are well-lit as you traverse the pathway towards the king’s chambers. You made a quick stop at your own rooms, shedding the hairpins that bound your hair tightly, allowing your tresses to fall in subtle waves from the earlier styling. You also shed some of the layers you typically wear, allowing you to show off more of your curves.

There doesn’t appear to be anyone outside the door to his room, so you slip in easily, taking a look around. The room is tidy, with barely anything on display on the walls or in cabinets to show his personality. Cold, just like he was the first time you met. A few minutes pass as you observe what you can, until voices outside the door alert you to the king’s approach. You position yourself on his bed, sitting at the edge with a leg crossed over the other and your palms behind you as you lean back slightly.

Your loose hair is over one shoulder, and you attempt to flutter your eyes demurely as King Namjoon steps into his bedchamber.

🥀

Ten minutes later, you stand in your own room again, confused by what had occurred. The King, a young, virile man, sent you out after you all but threw yourself at him. If anything, he seemed in a rush to get you out of his rooms, all but promising that you had nothing to worry about when you voiced not carrying out your duties.

“I know you worry about your standing in the palace, but you have nothing to fear. I will not be taking in any other women—you are the only one for me. You will be my Queen Consort. So please, you don’t have to stoop to these levels. You are excused.”

You definitely hadn’t prepared what to do in the event that the King said you didn’t need to seduce him and that you would be his Queen Consort. All of the stories the women told you about had prepared you for losing your virginity and other sexual acts to seduce the King and win his favor. Nothing they shared with you implied you wouldn’t have to do anything sexually with the man and he would raise your status one step, though a large one in the eyes of the nation. A wedding already in the works, unbeknownst to you. How strange this new king is.

🥀

The royal wedding that everyone has been waiting for a month to arrive is nearly here, with you in your red gowns of silks and satin, awaiting your cue for the ceremony. As much as you’ve enjoyed not having to behave wantonly, a part of you is drawn to your betrothed, and you realize: you want to. His movements as he walks through the palace, the grace with which he moves and speaks, all of these small things seem to thrum through your body, lighting all of your nerve endings on fire.

Why he denies himself the access he has to your body, you aren’t sure, but you hope that this wedding means that will come to an end. Maybe he’s just been waiting for tonight to consummate the marriage, instead of behaving how you were warned all men with power behave.

Everything is a blur as the hours pass, the sun crossing the sky until it descends below the horizon, allowing the moon to rise into its rightful place. With all of the revelers now sated in thirst or hunger or desire, they’re all sequestered away in the places that allow them to unwind. Most of the palace is now quiet, and you tiptoe with feather-light steps across the bedchamber towards your newly betrothed.

The King sits at an ornamental desk, metallic paints wrapping around the curves of the furniture as he leans over and writes, the scratches of the quill on the parchment revealing the short strokes he writes in Hangul. He’s shirtless, wide shoulders unblemished and you want nothing more than to mar the skin with signs of pleasure.

Your fingers lift to lightly trace along his right shoulder, but before you can touch him, his left hand grasps your fingers as he half turns to face you. You let out a small gasp in surprise—you didn’t think he would have heard you sneak up on him.

“Perhaps you should head to bed, Taelani, it was a long day.”

He barely looks at you as he speaks, and you feel yourself wilting. It’s fascinating, but deeply disturbing to you that it seems like he’s attracted to you but keeps turning you away. Everything you’ve been told about men is wrong. You want him to have his way with you, and he can’t be bothered to even stop drafting a letter to look at you for more than a second.

You feel yourself pouting, and it seems to work for a moment. Namjoon’s eyes soften, and he tugs you closer when you attempt to pull your hand out of his.

“I know this is not the most normal of situations, but I won’t stop you from seeking out your needs. You can take up with anyone as long as it is discreet, and any children you should bear will all be raised as if they are my own.” You freeze as he releases his hold on you and turns away, back to his missive.

You step away from him, trekking backward until the backs of your thighs touch the silk sheets on the bed. Embarrassment heats your neck and cheeks, because you do not understand why your husband turns away from you. It makes you feel…unwanted. Sitting down, you can only blink as you attempt to understand the man before you. But nothing thus far has made any sense.

🥀

The movement of the bed slowly wakes you, and you stretch your limbs out as your eyes blearily try to take in the low lighting in the room.

“...need the Huwon guards as soon as possible, I will meet them there.”

You stay still when you hear his voice, your brain instantly becoming more alert as you try to hear more of his request, but it only grows quiet again as the door shuts. You can barely hear his footfalls as he flits about the room, and you sneak a peek through cracked eyes as you keep your breathing level. He’s grabbing his upper garments and re-dressing, and in only a few more moments, he’s slipping out of the door.

You get up, immediately grabbing for your robes as you slip from the satin sheets to follow your new husband.

You stay as far back as you can, drifting between shadows as you make your way towards what you now know is the Huwon Secret Garden. While the garden grounds themselves take up a large expanse of the palace area, there is a beautiful and intimate pagoda of sorts that lies in the rear after crossing a small bridge with a tiny waterfall. You lose sight of Namjoon, but you know he must be headed there, so you continue on your way, avoiding the minimal guard presence.

Approaching the enclosed garden pergola, a gasping moan sounds and you quicken your steps, evermore the curious. Peering through one of the open slats of the enclosure, you see your king—your husband—with his arms wrapped around another woman. His mouth is to her neck as she straddles him, and though her face is hidden between the shadows and behind his bulky build, you know you heard the pleasure she felt. When he pulls back from her, you watch, entranced, as he laves his tongue along the skin he’s just marked. A burning jealousy shoots through your veins until a cloud moves out of the moonlight and a beam shines straight through.

Your eyes widen as they take in the elongated fangs, the blood dripping from the corners of his mouth, and the way the woman now lay limply in his arms. Spinning on your heel, you flee back to your room, praying that your pounding heart calms enough before he returns.

🥀🥀🥀Namjoon🥀🥀🥀

It’s almost debilitating to Namjoon having his new wife around him. It’s been only a week—one mere week of his eternal life—and you have made him into a ravenous, salacious blood fiend. This lust for the iron-smelling essence that runs through mortal veins, and one in particular more so than the others, means that he hasn’t been handling all of the new changes to his life well.

Going from the shadows and becoming the face of the nation he loves so much, that his whole family has given their lives for, is not exactly what he expected. He is much more used to using violence with his bare hands—and teeth—for their gain. Having to navigate politics with his wife’s father, Chief State Councillor Jeong Dojeon, is a whole new experience for him.

Not to mention that he’s insatiably drawn to his titillating wife, but knowing that her father is actively working against the reigning family has Namjoon’s guard up. The way she keeps trying to throw herself at him… Admittedly, he knows he’s spied on her letters and conversations, and she seems none the wiser to what her father is doing, but too much is at stake for him to risk it without knowing where she stands for sure.

Namjoon stretches his arms above his shirtless torso, then sets down the quill to mull over the letter he needs to finish and send to the front lines of their war efforts against the rival faction. They’ve quieted down some, ever since their attack on the true prince which led to an almost absolute destruction of said rival faction, but money will unite anyone against a common enemy if paid enough.

His ears perk up as he takes in the thrumming melody of your heartbeat as you move around the adjacent bathing room to your communal bedchamber. It’s late, much later than a person would typically bathe, and without the aid of maids, but he’s in no hurry to overwhelm his senses with you. He focuses on the sounds; of the water draining from the side of the palace, of the soft garments sliding along your skin as you dress, and he tenses—readying himself for your scent to overtake him as he turns and stands to face your re-entrance into the room.

Beautiful. Your large eyes are bright, warm even, and the way your body gracefully moves in that—he forcefully exhales as you approach him in an ornately sewn, semi-transparent lace robe. The vision of your full breasts with lace flowing over the peaks stuns him momentarily, and he allows himself a moment to drink you in. He’s so focused on trailing his eyes along the cupid’s bow of your full top lip that he doesn’t realize you’ve spoken to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

“Oh,” you look down demurely, taking him by surprise. “My king, please. I would like just a moment of your time.”

“Of course,” Namjoon replies, but hesitates as he sits back down, unsure of what could have triggered such a formal conversation. Though, to be fair, he knows he hasn’t been the best conversationalist with his own wife.

He watches as you pull a small, stuffed stool closer to him and sit on it regally. The robe parts with the movement and he’s able to see that only a thin sliver of fabric covers your mound. Everything else is revealed to him. Your navel, your thighs, so much skin…

“I know that you’ve given me permission to seek out other men, but I—I don’t want that.”

Namjoon is still as he reigns in his impure thoughts and focuses all of his attention on you. “What is it that you want?”

“I want my husband. I–don’t you also feel—I just…” you sigh, and the weight of your next words would bring Namjoon to his knees had he not been sitting. “I know who you are. And I don’t care. I—”

Namjoon stands to his full height, eyes slightly narrowed at your small frame.

“You know who I am?” he questions with disdain. Of course, you were too good to be true and exactly what he expected of your father.

“Yes, you may be the king, but more than that, you’re my husband.”

Namjoon pauses, listening on, but can see how tense you remain to continue speaking. “And what exactly don’t you care about?” He questions.

“I don’t care that you’re a—a vampire,” you rush out and continue speaking. “So please, don’t hold yourself back from me, I don’t want you to seek out your pleasure from others in the castle when I’m right here.”

His brain reels with an overwhelming amount of thoughts as you look up at him from where you sit, shoulders tight and lifted towards your ears as your chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath you take as you wait for him to speak.

You know he’s a vampire. How, he isn’t sure, because he knows that your father is not aware of that fact. No, he only assumed that your father had figured out that he was not the true prince, and instead a cousin filling in for the role, and shared this information with you. Nope, you meant you knew that he was immortal and knew of his late-night proclivities. He slowly lowers himself into the chair he vacated, wholly unprepared when you throw yourself forward onto your knees before him.

“Please, I’m right here. I only want you to touch me. No one else.”

Unable to resist, Namjoon does touch you, reaching beneath your arms to lift you to him. Even while standing, your eyes are only a few inches above him as he sits, and you step between his parted legs when he gently tugs you further into his space.

“I didn’t realize that my words made you feel unwanted.” Namjoon speaks slowly as he gathers his thoughts to organize his words. “I’m unsure how you came about this information, but I.. th-there’s some things we should clear up.”

Your eyes appear to study him intently, brows inching closer as your face wrinkles with apprehension. The flooding of your veins as your heart rate increases leads Namjoon to pause and hold his breath before speaking.

“There is a reason that I have been so distant, and yet have only sought out to take one wife and no others. It came to my attention that your father has been one of the main financial supporters of a rival political party that supports more control from Chief Councilors and less from me. This money helped supply weapons and mercenaries, and there was an…attempt on my life recently. It was nearly successful at bringing down this clan’s reign and ending our family line.”

You gasp as he reveals this partial truth, and say, “I swear to you, my king, I knew not of such plans, I know my father has ambitions and a dislike for the lack of his power due to the crown, but not that he would steep to such levels for gain.” Namjoon can feel the way your pulse reacts as he holds your wrists in his large hands. You truly were not aware, and this knowledge helps quell any lingering doubts he has about sharing more information with you.

“I believe that you had no knowledge of his plans or his financial support. But, because of that event, it is what led me to say yes to you as my concubine. You see, I felt that by having his daughter in the palace and by my side, that he would pull back his support of any rivals, and even decide to stop pushing for less control, especially since any heir would be his own grandchild to be on the throne.” Namjoon knows this last part is a lie, since he could not provide you with any children and the plan that is in place would not allow any child of yours to be on the throne, but he can’t tell you that.

You nod, eyes rapt with attention as they pour over his face, gleaning any additional information you can.

“My king, I do not support my father in his ventures. I promise you, I…he has never been much of a father to me. More like a tyrant or like…like he believes that my life does not matter more than what I am able to provide for him. You have saved me from him in so many ways, and I just want to show you my gratitude. I want you to feel my appreciation.”

Your tone holds not an ounce of seductive undertones as you continue, “I care not that you are a vampire, I—” he allows you to pull free from his hold, turning your hands so that your palms lay on the outsides of his and you guide them carefully through the opening of your robes to your bare bosom, cupping his hands around your full chest. “I ache for you, Namjoon. I have never felt such a desire before, have never sought out the affections of a man. In truth, I’m terrified, but not because of what you are, but because I have never crossed this line before.”

And Namjoon, still a man with carnal desires despite his blood lust, wants to be the one you cross that line with. He can feel the weight of your breasts as you move closer, stepping in such a way so that you can straddle him—which you do moments later. He feels his hands tighten around your chest without your fingers leading the motion, and the tiny, breathy moan that you release brushes against his lips from your proximity.

He’s hardening, lengthening; his cock pressing against your clothed heat and his fangs inching from his parted lips, both aching to open you up for him. And just as the circling press of your pert nipples to the pads of his thumbs begins, you cover his mouth with yours, moaning for his ears only as you lean into his touch at all junctions where your body touches his.

It’s intoxicating; your scent wraps around him and the feel of your blood thrumming within your body as you tremble from the pure lust that seems to ooze from your pores as you, you! devour his lips with no care of his fangs. Your tongue is tentative, but curious—seeking to glide along his and taste all of him.

When you pull back, he presumes to breathe since he need not this human action, his fang nicks your tongue on retreat. That one drop makes his muscles spasm—you pull back from him faster as his touch turns painful for a moment and then you are flying, landing on the bed in a frenzy and in a blink Namjoon is pressed to the wall farthest from you, his fists clenched tightly as he holds himself back from you.

“There is…still much you need…to know and understand.” Namjoon strains to get the words out, actively fighting his thirst for his wife—for you—whose blood has never been tasted by another, and whose tight cunt has never been taken by another. “Please, walk slowly to the door and get the Huwon guards…”

“No, please, Namjoon, I want—”

“Now!” he roars, watching fear filter into your eyes as you spring from the bed and rush towards the door. With a speed rivaling light, he is in front of you before you can make it three steps from the bed. His predator instinct couldn’t allow you to leave the room now. Grasping you under your thighs, he lifts you effortlessly, drawing his nose along your neckline.

Instantly, your fear melts away from your body, leaving you boneless as he deposits you forcefully to the bed you just vacated.

“You will take me, and I will drink from you, and then, I will tell you everything, but I can’t…can’t let you go. I must have you.”

🥀🥀🥀Taelani🥀🥀🥀

The gentle husband whom you had straddled mere moments before, who had kissed you with a softness that you have never known, was no longer the man above you. Instead, a predator climbs onto the covers as you scramble backwards, but his hand grips your wrist and slides you along the silk sheets back underneath his body.

His hands box in your head, with his knees bracing either side of your hips. Your heart is pounding, and you freeze beneath him, finally understanding why he said to walk slowly.

“Grandfather, what do I do if I encounter a bear or something of the like in the forest?” Five-year-old Taelani asks as she walks along her family grounds with her maternal grandpa.

“My dear Taelani, you must never run if you encounter a large animal. Predators are wired to chase after prey. Be steadfast, like a deer or a hare. Freeze and watch first. They may not mean you any harm, but if you should run, they cannot stop themselves.”

Going stockstill seems to work, just as you remembered learning about as a child. Namjoon mimics this, freezing his own body and his dilated eyes close as he leans closer into you and…inhales.

“I’m sorry, but I—I need to feed.” His voice is tense, a quiet murmur that fills the silence.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” you say, proffering your own neck. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

“This is not—I wanted this to be different, I don’t want to hurt you. You deserve—”

“—a husband who will make love to me, and feed from only me. Because I am yours, and you are mine.”

His eyes open with a blazing, hungry stare and before you can do anything else, he descends on your lips with a fierceness. His hands move from the sheets to your robe, ripping it open to expose your dusky nipples to the chilled air. He grips the hem of the clothing preventing you from full nudity and all but destroys it as he pulls it from your body in a feral show of strength.

“Mine.” His words are a low growl before his mouth is once again on yours, this time his hands now free to roam your body without clothing to hinder him. His deft hands move in symmetry to cup your breasts, giving them a supple squeeze before drifting down your hips and he moves his body lower along yours so he can hook his arms around the backs of your thighs.

The silks beneath you allow him to easily slip between your skin and the satin, giving him the right angle to push your legs up and bare all to him. You shiver in anticipation, feeling how wet you are by the air now meeting the heat between your thighs. You want him. The throbbing of your clit makes you want to clench your thighs together for some relief, but the way he’s holding you won’t allow it.

His kisses trail lower, mouth hovering over your nipple until his lengthened teeth graze the sensitive skin. Arching your back, he takes this as a sign to suck the peak into his mouth, tongue swirling as you moan. He switches sides, treating them equally before continuing lower, tongue dancing across your navel. The caress of the wet muscle has your body jumping with desire.

“Oh!” You can hardly keep quiet when his tongue tastes you, laving flat across your open warmth before making short, quick passes along your clit. Your hands grip the sheets in desperation—for him to stop, for him to continue—the pleasure is overwhelming.

“You taste…divine,” his voice rumbles, and you try to keep your eyes on him but squeeze them shut when his mouth returns to devour you. Sensual, plump lips kissing you, sucking you, tongue fucking you—you writhe beneath him. His hands press you wider, keeping you open as your muscles fight against the pleasure and threaten to close around his head.

And he doesn’t stop. Not until you're dripping, and the lower half of his face is glistening with you. You barely register his movements, can barely tell that he’s naked and climbing above you until he’s suddenly in your eyeline. Floating…that’s what this feeling is, like floating on a cloud, carefree. And when the blunted tip of his cock nudges at your still quivering heat, you widen your legs and welcome him, urging him to fill you.

And, oh! You don’t expect the pressure to build as he thrusts within you, and you cry out in pain, in pleasure, in ecstasy at the fullness he brings as your walls quiver around him.

Your hands tighten on his shoulders as he begins to move with more gusto, continuing to keen at the feeling—all of the feelings—and slowly the pain lessens and he glides with less stilted motion, bottoming out again and again and again.

A rhythmic chanting sounds, and it takes a few moments for you to recognize your own voice, so laced with desire and lust, pleading for him. “Please, gods, don’t stop, please!” along with a guttural reply, “I won’t,” filling the bed chamber that surely the others in the palace must be awake and able to hear. Namjoon appeases your request and his hips continue to piston fluidly, his strong thighs creating a cacophony of sounds as they meet the backs of yours.

An inhale, sharp and stilting—a grunt, with hips stuttering—his fangs piercing the tender skin at the crook of your neck as you feel the blood weeping from your vein as he drinks deeply of you. And you shatter from the ecstasy, like a fallen vase of porcelain, pieces scattering like twinkling stars across the galaxy in a vibrant bursting of flames.

🥀

“I am…older than I look.” You lay with your head upon Namjoon’s chest, fingers dancing along the smooth, glistening skin of his chest. His voice reverberates in your head as his low timbre continues. “And I am not truly the Queen Mother’s son, but her relative.”

You tilt your head to look up at him.

“I died a little over 50 years ago. Many of my family within these walls are like me. Forever frozen in time. When my father was just a boy in 1390, his uncles and aunts all fell ill of the fever. One by one, they passed away, and his father, fearing death, sought out the answer to life. When all was said and done, the only one to survive the fever was my grandfather’s youngest brother. In order to secure his place on the throne, stories spread that the youngest son killed all of his older siblings for power. In reality, my grandfather helped spread this and protected him all the while from assassination attempts.”

Looking with wide eyes at him, you almost can’t believe that what he says is true. Almost.

“This became our family’s mission. To protect the youngest sibling's line. For all of the children born to the older siblings who did not pass from the fever, upon approaching their 30th year and after having a family if they so wished, would endure the change and live forever. We have grown in our numbers and have always worked to protect the one line that history can know about. The Queen Mother’s great-grandfather is that youngest sibling. Merely days before I took the throne, her son, the true heir, was murdered.”

With a gasp, you sit up, clutching the satin sheets to your naked breasts.

“In order to hide that this attempt was successful, I stepped into his place and took the throne. And the Queen Mother will have another child, one who we will raise as our own and be the next successor, rightfully restoring the line to power once more.”

“I have so many questions, I can’t even begin to list them!” you pout, stifling a yawn at the late hour. You understand that you will have to raise the Queen Mother’s son as your own child so that the correct lineage remains on the throne, but what of your own children?

“We have plenty of time for your questions, my love. Maybe I shall answer some of them as I tell you more?”

As Namjoon continues to regale you with his tale, spelling out exactly how your lives will be, you settle back into his body and listen intently to his deep tenor rumbling against your cheek, curling your naked body around his own, until you fall asleep.

🥀🥀🥀

Epilogue

Eighteen years have passed since Taelani first entered the palace as Namjoon’s concubine.

Eighteen years since you learned the truth about your husband and his family, and full of questions and curious for more information, had kept him up the following nights with all of your thoughts until he lay you down and forced you quiet with his lips on yours and his hands seeking other truths between your legs.

Now, you are a mother to twins—at least, as far as the kingdom was concerned. Your daughter, Seojin, is truly yours and Namjoon’s, a miracle that even Namjoon’s family had not anticipated. Due to most everyone else in his family waiting until they had chosen a mate and had kids to turn, this was an unprecedented event. And Seojin’s twin brother, Jiho—though not truly siblings—but instead cousins, is the answer to keeping the family line on the throne.

Queen Mother Sindeok had hidden away, where she bore a son and then quietly returned to the palace with you and Namjoon, cradling a secret that only your family knew. A secret that she bundled tightly for the trip back and handed into your arms a mere day before your Seojin was born.

By royal decree, the news of the double royal birth spread across the lands, and in short, the Queen Mother’s pregnancy had never happened. Instead, Taelani, beloved Queen Consort to King Namjoon, had given birth to twins—a boy and a girl, heirs to a prosperous future. Together, the twins' birth was celebrated by the populace and secured the power that Namjoon’s grandfather had cultivated over the years, maintaining their hold of the throne their line refused to give up.

The birth of your twins also made sure that your father no longer tried to challenge the current rulers for power over the people. The Chief Councilor must have immediately withdrawn his money and support of the rival factions, as their attacks and their false propaganda dwindled to almost nonexistence.

With the belief that his grandson would take the throne, as the twin who was born minutes before his sister, your father seemed to think better of his past alliances, and instead made to be a better grandfather to them than he was a father to you, in the hopes that his name would be next to theirs in historical records as a formative familial link to the throne.

You still watched over his actions, even now, knowing that he may no longer hunger for the death of the emperor, but that his gusto for power and manipulation was never far from the surface. You and Namjoon had raised your children well though, teaching them to think for themselves and avoid manipulation tactics from even the most persuasive of grandparents.

At eighteen, Seojin showed no outward signs of her father’s affliction, but for a glint in her eyes that she could do more, hear more, see more, smell more—than her human counterparts. Her brother Jiho was smart, empathetic, and set to be a great ruler, carrying on the legacy his forefathers set before him.

It may have been a little over a decade since you joined your husband in an everlasting life, but you have never regretted that decision, not even for a moment. Standing next to him as he pens his speech for Jiho’s coronation, you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair as you stare out at the full moon, large against the backdrop of the stars and dark clouds.

“My love, come to bed,” you suggest, wanting to lay with him, to embrace him, to love him.

“One more line and I’ll join you,” he promises with a smirk. He still looks the same, jovial eyes crescenting as his lips quirk up at you. “Strip, and I’ll make sure to keep you warm.”

His lustful gaze watches as you step backwards towards the bed, eyes staying on his face.

A few moments later, he replaces his quill and caps the ink, fingers tugging at his pants to loosen them from his waist. Your giggles carry with the evening breeze as it whistles quietly through the slats in the window, rustling the parchment Namjoon was writing on and drying the last lines he had written.

“And for our country, with Yi Jiho as emperor, this nation will finally have all we have fought for: strength, power, and a promising future.”

And for you and Namjoon, your sacrifices eighteen years ago continue the legacy of a kingdom destined to be ruled by a lineage of

eternal reign.

163 notes · View notes

bumblesimagines · 3 months ago

Note

Love Quinn

maybe we could try going on a proper date this time.

by the time i woke up, you were gone.

i didn't have time to get involved in anyone.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical You warnings, mentions of the murders of Delilah and James, mentions of grief over spouse's death, mentions of wanting to cheat/have an affair

"Oh, Love!"

The automatic deep inhale the brunette had to do only made her rethink her choice to move to Madre Linda. She thought a quaint small town with beautiful suburbs and far from the mess left behind in LA would help her settle into her new life as a mother and wife. If only the real estate agent had mentioned the irritating vipers itching to drain the life out of anyone who stepped foot inside the town.

Plastering on her most genuine-looking fake smile, she spun around to face Sherry and her minions. "Hey! How are you?" She asked, her voice going higher in pitch as she leaned in to hug Sherry and each of her equally fake friends. They all smiled back at her, their smiles full of feigned glee and eyes eager to find anything amiss.

"We're doing amazing now that our favorite florist is back in town," Sherry revealed, her arms looping around Love's and pulling her along. The giggles and whispers exchanged by the other girls, along with their big coy smiles, told Love Madre Linda's florist was either the most miserable man around or the happiest.

"So, The Lotus is finally open for business?" Love questioned, her memory flickering back to all the times she passed by the prettily decorated flower shop in town where the sign on the window always remained flipped on 'closed'. Every once in a while, she'd catch an elderly woman shuffling into the shop and spraying some of the plants with water, but the only time Love managed to catch her for a chat, she'd only been told the shop was closed until the owner returned from out of state.

Sherry nodded eagerly, her soft pink-tinted lips stretching out into what Love could only describe as a flirtatious smile. "(Y/N)! Ugh, my god, you missed so much, sweetheart!"

Immediately, Love's eyes darted forward, her desire to rush back into Joe's arms and complain about their neighbors zapping out of her when she laid eyes on a man she'd been searching for since James's death. She'd searched for him high and low, visiting each social media site she could think of in desperate search of any information, but of course, no first name was ever truly unique. Her friends in LA had told her the obsession was unhealthy, something caused by her grief that forced her to latch onto him; they never truly did learn of the real her.

The memories remained vivid in her mind but how could they not when it was all she ever thought about? Joe had been a lovely distraction, a revelation that others who loved as deeply as she did exist, but she often let her mind wander onto the man who'd strolled into Anavrin with a quiet demeanor and an aura of mystery. She'd been deep in her grief and guilt over James's death when he appeared in the doorway, the light of the setting sun casting an angelic halo over him that drew her eyes to him instantaneously. She'd been a goner the second their eyes met and while she'd been able to enjoy his presence the following days, he disappeared the day after she finally learned how his lips tasted and his hands felt on exposed skin.

"I'm sure I did, Sher." (Y/N) released a quiet sigh heavy with exhaustion and turned his back to the snack table to face them. He looked over each of the women present with lips pulled into a faint polite smile until they locked eyes, and Love felt that rush go through her veins. She'd felt it with Joe once in LA but it'd simmered down immensely after Delilah's death and Henry's birth.

"This is Love Quinn-Goldberg," Sherry lightly squeezed her arm. "She and her husband, Joe, moved in while she was expecting their adorable little son, Henry. Love, this is (Y/N) (L/N), our resident florist. He can be a little grumpy at first but trust me, he's a gem once he warms up to you."

From the way (Y/N) squinted his eyes slightly and pursed his lips, Love assumed Sherry certainly hadn't reached that point yet.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Quinn-Goldberg," He stuck his hand out, the familiar warmth of his touch surrounding her when they shook hands; a warmth she'd once felt when his hands had touched her skin, palms pressing against her and fingers gripping firmly yet gently enough to avoid leaving marks. "You can pop by The Lotus any time and I'd be happy to help with whatever you need."

"Thank you," Love spoke softly. "A-And Love is fine. Quinn-Goldberg can be a mouthful."

"Well-"

"Actually," Love interrupted Sherry swiftly, wriggling her arm free and stepping forward, the subtle smell of his cologne hitting her like a truck. "I, uhm.." She swallowed thickly. "A friend of mine is hosting an event and she's been asking if I knew anyone who could help with floral decorations. Would you mind if I asked you some questions so I can relay back to her?"

(Y/N) stared at her in silence, glancing away to spare the other women the smallest bit of attention before nodding. "Yeah, sure, come this way."

His hand landed on her midback, high enough to appear polite but the touch still sent a shiver down her spine. Her lips pressed tightly together in hopes of fighting back the urge to smile, her eyes angled toward the ground as they walked out of the backyard and into a more quiet spot within the house. She hardly knew the hosts of the party but they'd been kind enough to send her and Joe an invitation to their tenth wedding anniversary so she felt inclined to accept, and boy was she glad she had.

Sparing a glance over her shoulder and raking her fingers through her hair a few times to tame the strands that'd gone rogue, Love subtly took in a deep breath and faced him in the hallway, her back pressing to the wall. She drank him in for the first time in a long time and felt a nostalgia and feeling of familiarity she dearly missed in the chaos of a new home and new faces.

"I never thought I'd see you again after.. after everything that happened. I-I thought we'd had a good time together and then by the time I woke up, you were gone. I hoped you'd show up again but you never did." Love's brows furrowed slightly. "What happened?"

"It's.. complicated, I guess. I went to LA to escape this nightmare of a place and figure out what I wanted to make of my life. I didn't have time to get involved with anyone, not when I barely knew what do to with myself." (Y/N) sighed heavily, his hands slipping into the pockets of his coat and his head tilting back to gaze over the ceiling. "It was shitty to leave like that but my grandmother called me to ask me to take over the shop for her here and I thought maybe it was a sign that I was meant to stay here. LA was hectic, anyway. At least Madre Linda is predictable, and that's probably the only comfort I can give you about this place."

Love chuckled breathlessly, a certain exhaustion lingering in the air. "Maybe... maybe we could try going on a proper date this time.. a- a friendly one, at least. You're the only person here I know and the only one I can trust not to gossip about me." A friendly date... that could lead to more. She could feel Joe pulling away from her with each passing day, it was only fair she had her own fun.

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #you netflix #you #you netflix x reader #you x reader #you x male reader #you netflix x male reader #love quinn #love quinn x reader #love quinn x male reader #love quinn x you #love quinn x y/n #love quinn-goldberg #love quinn-goldberg x reader

138 notes · View notes

stormyskies-writes · 7 months ago

Text

Mystery/Crime Story Prompts

I've compiled a list of some of my favourite mystery/crime/thriller story ideas/prompts! I hope you all enjoy!

When the police come to announce the death of your husband, you refuse to believe it. "That's impossible," you say. "Unfortunately it's the truth, miss," answers the policeman. "It's impossible," you say again, "because he's in the kitchen making dinner."

One day you see a picture of yourself in a foreign newspaper. You ask someone to translate the headline for you: "SEARCH FOR MISSING CHILD STILL ONGOING".

A murder mystery where every character believes themself responsible for the death, and tries to cover it up.

You are a sleep walking murderer by night. During the day you are a detective unknowingly hunting yourself.

A private investigator is hired to find a child that has been missing for 30 years, only to eventually find out that they are the missing child and their current "parents" kidnapped them at birth.

You saw who took the kidnapped child when you were a child. Now, you are a detective determined to figure out the truth.

It's been 15 years since you were in an accident that gave you amnesia. All you have of your past life has been locked away in a chest you refused to open. Today, you decide to open it, only to discover you are one of the most prolific serial killers of all time, and within the chest are bloody tokens from each of your victims.

"Why is it whenever something happens, it is always you who finds the body?" the lead detective asks, seeming to believe you are guilty. You smile and shrug. "Just lucky I guess." In reality, you suffer from visions in your dreams and often wake up covered in blood, the first to find the latest body. And despite the detective thinking you are the bane of his existence, and you thinking he is an infuritaing ass, you know you must both work together to find the real murderer before it is too late.

If you want more of these kind of prompts, or if you want prompts for different genres, let me know!

I'm also so tempted to write that last prompt myself because it could be super fun.

#writing prompts #writing inspiration #crush prompts #dialogue prompts #romance prompts #couple prompts #otp prompts #writing ideas #prompt list #spicy prompts #romance #thriller #crime #crime fiction #mystery #mystery prompts #crime prompts

238 notes · View notes

anonymous-dentist · 4 months ago

Text

Or: Post-Bad Romance, Cell tries to adjust to life on Quesadilla Island.

For Spiderbit Week Day Four: Murder Husbands

The island is a prison. And Cell knows prisons.

There are the wardens: the mysterious blank-faced bear things with guns and clipboards that follow the prisoners around asking questions and watching.

There are the prisoners: the idiots trapped on an island paradise and seemingly unwilling to try and escape.

There are the cells: buildings and statues and neighborhoods that the prisoners were allowed to make themselves that have security cameras watching every entrance and exit that the prisoners don't seem to know-slash-care about.

So. Prison.

"Pai? Why are you staring at Mister Roier like that?"

Prison. With children.

"Don't call me that," Cell snaps. "And he likes it, that's why. Go somewhere else."

The kid- assigned by the faceless overlords- just smiles cheekily in response. He clasps his hands behind his back and rocks onto his heels, head tilting slightly.

"Pais Tazer e Craft said I'm not supposed to talk to you," Richarlyson innocently says. His eyes are hidden behind his curls, but Cell can imagine that they're glittering mischievously.

Now, Cell knows that the kid is an evil genius. Like recognizes like: Cell doesn't remember much from his childhood, but he remembers looking at himself in a puddle of blood one morning after breakfast and seeing a smile that he recognizes now every time that he and Richarlyson see each other.

Richarlyson is a master manipulator. He's not even ten years old, but he can already poke and prod his government-assigned parents into doing what he wants. He hides behind childhood innocence and sweet smiles and sweeter words, but he's also a little asshole.

Of course, Roier adores him.

Of course, Cell doesn't want anything to do with him.

But what he does want is whatever Pac and Mike don't want, so he scowls and shoves his hands into his pockets and looks away.

Content, Richarlyson plops onto the grass and props his chin up in the palms of his hands. He watches Roier just as Cell was doing a moment ago, which is bound to make Roier fucking ecstatic.

Or, well, it would if Roier knew that the two of them were there watching him.

Since arriving on the island a week ago, Roier has managed to find himself an entirely new little family. He squeezed into their relationship like a strangler fig, and Jaiden and Bobby accepted him with open arms.

("Friendship", apparently. That's the thing the prisoners care about the most besides their artificially-created government spawn.

Friendship, and communication.

Idealists. Idiots.)

Roier has moved in with Jaiden and Bobby. He's decided that he's Bobby's father. He's decided that Cell is Bobby's other father, and he got Cell to agree with a knife subtly poking into his side.

Cell, meanwhile, lives in a cave. It reminds him too much of the island- the other island, not this one, but it's also natural, and the wardens don't know where it is. He's searched the area a dozen times over by now: no cameras.

One day, if he and Roier are stuck here long enough, he'll hollow it out by hand. He needs a place to keep his tools. He needs a place to hide his bed so nobody can destroy it.

He needs a place to torture Pac and Mike and teach him what real friendship looks like. Roier will be by his side, and they'll show them.

Cell doesn't miss Roier, though.

At all.

They spent three weeks practically together in the Brazilian countryside, and Roier is annoying, and Cell has had enough of him.

Entirely.

Roier is the only person besides Cell to know where the cave is. And he'll be the only one there when Cell shows Pac and Mike a real partnership. Because he and Roier are partners.

That's it.

(When introducing themselves to the other prisoners, this is how they did it:

Roier: Hola, hola! My name is Roier, I am Mexican, and I am engaged to Cell!

Cell: You can call me Cell, and I'm going to kill every one of you someday.

Roier: [Glares at Cell pointedly.]

Cell: [Sighing] And Roier and I are partners.)

Cell definitely isn't just annoyed that Roier decided to go and live with two strangers and not him.

That would be ridiculous.

Today, Roier is working on the garden with Bobby, and Cell is watching him from a hilltop a fair distance away. Jaiden is asleep. (She'd be asleep forever if Cell had anything to say about it, but that would make Roier upset. So.)

Roier glows in the sunlight. With proper access to a shower and shampoo and skincare, he's positively ethereal. His nails are freshly painted. His eyeliner is meticulous. His hair looks soft.

Richarlyson cocks his head in his hands to look up at Cell.

"Why don't you just... go hang out with him? Aren't you guys getting married?"

Cell's scowl only deepens. "Do you see a ring on either of our hands?"

There aren't any. Roier hasn't gotten any, and Cell sure as hell isn't about to start begging the wardens for silver and gold like the other prisoners would. He has dignity. He'll just dig up the materials himself and make them into rings. Somehow.

He scuffs the toe of his boot against the grass, kicking up some into the air.

"Besides," he says, voice softer despite his attempts to remain objective, "he's busy with his kid."

Roier had mentioned once that he had a child. His asshole (piece of shit bastard motherfucker evil-) ex killed the kid, and Roier killed the ex.

Cell doesn't know how old Roier's kid was when it died, but Roier seems to be doing just fine with ten-year-old Bobby. It's like he was born to be a parent, he's just so kind. He's gentle. He teases Bobby, and he teases the other brats on the island, but he doesn't go out of his way to hurt them.

Roier's smile when he's around kids is entirely different than it is when he's around Cell. His eyes are different, they're... they're just different.

"You're literally also Bobby's dad," Richarlyson dryly responds.

He pauses, and then he asks, "Wait, does that make me Bobby's brother?"

"No," is Cell's immediate response. "You aren't even my son."

"No, I am. Cucurucho says so."

"And I say you're not. You have Felps."

"And Pais Pac and Mike."

A foul taste fills Cell's mouth.

"See?" he says. "You already have plenty of parents. You don't need me."

"Maybe," Richarlyson acknowledges. He smiles, and Cell can't tell if he means it or not. "But I want you. You're cool!"

"I know that," Cell scoffs. "But you shouldn't be hanging around a killer, kid. None of the other kids will want to play with you."

"So what? They don't like me, anyway."

Ducking his head to look at the grass, Richarlyson starts tearing some of it up.

Cell winces. He... doesn't know how to deal with kids. It just isn't what he does. It's what Roier, does, but Roier is busy with his actual family now.

In the garden, Roier laughs. He drops a flower onto Bobby's head and ducks away playfully as Bobby swings his sword at him in retaliation.

(Roier's smile is beautiful. Cell doesn't know what beauty is anymore, but he knows this.)

During the war, BadBoyHalo once told Cell that he was too kind. He wouldn't survive that way, and he almost didn't. He didn't start winning battles until he started being mean, and he's been mean ever since. That's simply how the world works.

Cell rolls his eyes up towards the sky. With a grumble, he settles onto the grass next to Richarlyson.

"You're too young to be depressed," Cell says. "So stop that. If the other brats don't want to talk to you, then don't talk to them. They're assholes. Fuck 'em."

Richarlyson frowns. "But that's mean. I want to be their friend."

"And they don't want to be yours. What are you going to do about it?"

Bobby is chasing Roier around the garden, now. Cell loves watching Roier move, he's so... wow with everything he does: long limbs, muscles. Wow.

Richarlyson doesn't say anything for a moment, so Cell takes the silence as an opportunity to keep watching Roier. He wasn't lying earlier, Roier loves to be watched. He practically begs Cell to do it, and Cell is happy enough to play along.

(Sure, Roier hasn't moved in with him, and he hasn't gotten Cell a ring, and he hasn't really done much with Cell, but he wants to be stalked. Fucking freak.)

(Cell isn't much of a stalker, but he'll do it for Roier. He'd do anything for Roier, and isn't that a novel thought? This is a real partnership, fuck you, Pac and Mike.)

Eventually, Richarlyson lets the grass in his fingers fly into the wind.

"I'll make them be my friends?" he tries, looking to Cell for approval.

Cell shakes his head. "That doesn't work. I've tried, trust me. In prison, you have to force people to be your friends. Those relationships don't last. They'll stab you in the back at the first chance of an escape."

"Uuuuugh, then what?" Richarlyson groans. "They all hate me!"

"How do you know?"

"Uh, because they're all siblings and I'm not related to them? Duh?"

Wow, what a stupid kid. He really is Felps' son.

Sighing, Cell nudges Richarlyson's head with his hand. He maybe ruffles the kid's hair a little, but not purposefully.

"They don't know you, idiot," he explains. "How can you be friends if you're strangers? Have you even tried talking to them?"

"No. Because they hate me."

"They don't trust you. Big difference."

Looking right at Roier, Cell continues: "Trust is the most important part of any relationship. From trust comes honesty, and from honesty comes everything else. You need to prove to the other kids that they can trust you."

Richarlyson leans into Cell's touch, still frowning. "Okay, but how?"

Cell shrugs and yanks his hand away. "Hell if I know."

"You trust Mister Roier."

"He's- he's. Roier." Cell's heart twists fondly in his chest. "I don't even know how he did it."

"Oh," says Richarlyson. He smiles, then. "That's nice. You two really are partners, aren't you?"

Cell scoffs, "Of course we are."

"So that's why he's been staring at you for the past, like, five minutes."

"What?"

Cell blinks a few times, scrunches his eyebrows together.

Indeed, Roier is looking at him now. He's looking right at him, eyes glittering in the sun, smile so wide that his jaw has to be aching.

How did Cell not notice? Was he really so caught up with Richarlyson's kid drama? Ugh, he's getting weak. He needs to kill someone.

Roier waves a hand and shouts, "Gatinho!"

Cell raises his own hand in response. "Guapito."

"Come here! Bring our son with you!"

Richarlyson squirms happily at that.

"See?" he crows. "I am your son."

"Yeah, no," Cell huffs.

He stands, anyway, and he brushes the grass off of his pants.

He doesn't rush down the hill, not like Richarlyson does. He might run a little, and his heart might skip a beat as he gets closer, and his face might be fighting a smile, but he doesn't rush.

At all.

Roier meets him at the bottom of the hill with a hug so tight that Cell's lungs threaten to collapse inside of him.

"I missed you," Roier murmurs. "Don't leave me again."

Cell can't help it. He hugs Roier back just as tightly and grumbles, "Says the one ditching me to play house with some strangers. What do you mean, 'don't leave me again'?"

Roier gasps, and it sounds like he's going to cry for just a second.

But then he starts laughing, hard and loud.

"You're jealous!" he declares.

Cell feels himself flush red.

"No," he says, pushing himself out of Roier's grip and turning around entirely to face away from him. "I'm not."

But Roier just hugs him from behind, chin tucking itself right into the crook of Cell's neck.

"Thank you for watching me," he hums.

Cell grunts. For some reason, he can never speak properly around Roier. It's like his brain just shuts down, it's embarrassing.

He doesn't like being held from behind, though, so he grabs Roier's hands and turns back around. Roier, for whatever reason, twirls in Cell's loose hold like a ballerina.

"Wow," Richarlyson comments from somewhere out of sight and out of mind.

"Ew," Bobby agrees, equally ignorable.

Roier would look so good covered in blood right now, Cell thinks. Red is his color. Cell doesn't have a favorite color, but the closest thing he can think of would be the shade of red Roier's face always is when Cell is killing someone.

Leaning in close, Cell murmurs, "Screw the kids. I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

Roier's eyes light up. "Brazilian?"

Cell ponders. And then he shakes his head. "Not worth the trouble. I'm thinking... Mexican?"

His voice pitches up slightly, questioning.

"Mmm, Quackity, Mariana, or Missa's place?" Roier asks.

For whatever reason, Cell thinks back to a week ago when Quackity and Mariana and Slime had tried stealing Richarlyson away from him... and the others. Missa behaved, he's safe (today.)

Cell's arms find themselves draping over Roier's shoulders loosely. Their heads lean closer together until their foreheads are pressed against each other.

Roier's eyelashes are long and beautiful. He doesn't really use mascara, so it's all natural. He flutters them delicately as Cell thinks.

"Quackity," Cell eventually decides. He smiles crookedly. "Fast food."

Roier's canines aren't as sharp as Cell's are, but he's still borderline vampiric. Wow.

Cell doesn't feel ready to kiss Roier yet- he's still working on speaking around him. But he still considers it as Roier looks up at him through his eyelashes.

One day, he thinks. What did Bad always say, "save it 'til marriage"? Cell can do that. He just needs to figure the rings out first.

"As you wish," Roier breathes.

The kids both groan and wander off to do their own thing elsewhere, but Cell couldn't care less. They aren't his, no matter what Roier says.

And they never will be.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#okay this accidentally turned into a family fic but listen!#this will be on ao3 on this upcoming sunday as the sunday upload #btw #god this sounds like the first chapter in something doesn't it #well. it might be! idk yet

127 notes · View notes

kidconsky · 7 months ago

Text

Okay.... Let's analyze what happened in dcmk these last few weeks. Obvious SPOLIERS will be commented so you know.

> Appearance of Aoko's mother in Magic Kaito.

Where was she all this time? Why did she never appear or even show a sign of life? She didn't even call her daughter on her birthday... She appears so oblivious to everything, she didn't even know who Kaitou Kid was since her husband has always been obsessed with trying to catch this thief for YEARS. It seems like Gosho just randomly placed her in the story without trying to connect with the canon, it's almost as if she was a character outside of her original manga.

> Film 27 and its breaks in logic and common sense.

After all these years, Gosho decided to go against everything he had already said and made the Kaishin to be cousins, not only ruining a unique relationship (whether you shipped or not) but also bringing plot holes and contradictions in the story. If they are cousins what's the excuse for them never trying to even interact before? Why was it that when Yukiko first met Kaito, she never acted like she was related to her? The same with Toichi, she always talked about him as just her teacher and NOTHING more than that, it doesn't make sense to put that in the story now. Why did Kaito never even have support from his family? Not even showing up at Toichi's symbolic funeral? How come Yusaku never went to talk to his late brother's family, even if he knew the truth KAITO DIDN'T KNOW...

No one even considered his feelings...

> All the bullshit involving Kaishin.

The biggest problem for me about them being cousins is not just because of the ship but because of all the history and construction they had. It's as if everything that's different about them is summed up in the simple fact that they're related. But Kaishin has always had something unique, something that Gosho himself defined as "a mysterious bond". Them not having the slightest type of relationship made everything so unique, a connection that only the two of them could have together, one would easily understand the other even though they were complete strangers. Now I feel like they want to throw that away.

> TOICHI KUROBA AND MY HATE FOR HIM.

Gosho had already said that Toichi was possibly alive but the confirmation brought me a wave of anger and contempt that I had never felt for any other dcmk character (even bo). Let's think about Kaito in this whole story:

• lost his father when he was just a child and is still traumatized by it today.

• for 8 FUCKING YEARS he discovers that his father's death was never an accident but a murder.

• His father was actually an internationally wanted thief who was after a precious stone capable of bringing immortality.

• he steps into his father's shoes as KID and decides to try to find out for himself what happened to his father, who killed him and why.

• now there is a criminal organization that thinks he is the KID who didn't really die and they are trying to kill him once and for all.

• he decides to put himself at risk looking for Pandora, being something belonging to the organization and the police themselves.

• a lot of people hate him, regardless of whether he hurts people or not.

• more and more he becomes more and more removed from everything and becomes burdened with the KID charade.

• his own mother doesn't care about him, on the contrary, it seems like she likes to make things even more difficult for her son (she disguised herself as her dead ex-husband just to screw with her son's head, that's sickening to say the least).

• everything Kaito does is because of his father's murder, he never wanted to be KID, he never liked stealing, he doesn't do any of that for pleasure (except when it involves a certain mini detective but that's not the focus now ).

• and in the end his father was ALIVE all this time, doing who knows what while his son was risking his life because of him... BRO...

This whole thing is insane. And not in a good way.

#i'm insane #I can't stop thinking about Kaito in the middle of all this #someone needs to hug him #i'm crying so hard #my baby :(#kaito deserves the world #kaitou kid #kaito kuroba #conan edogawa #shinichi kudo #kaito x shinichi #kaishin #dcmk #magic kaito #detective conan #meitantei conan #aoko nakamori #toichi kuroba #gosho aoyama

377 notes · View notes

when-life-gives-you-lemons-if · 1 year ago

Text

Insert-Rich-Family-Name Book 2 👀🔪🔪

Unspeakable tragedy has unveiled your family's darkest secrets. Some rest in eternal silence, while others are trapped behind bars, accused of unimaginable crimes.

You've already played judge and jury for an unexpected murderer, but can you salvage your grandfather's fragile legacy? Will you ascend to lead the company and claim that vacant seat to safeguard your family's fortune, or is it time to cash in your shares and disappear?

As three potential investors come knocking for a merger, tread carefully; trust is a luxury you can't afford.

And in a world where danger lurks behind every corner, one question haunts your every step...

Who wants you dead?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know this game wasn't a reader's favorite, but I've been missing the MC from Insert-Rich-Family-Name, so I'll be back to writing it soon.

I enjoyed writing book 1, I love those characters and I know I will enjoy writing book 2 as well. This book was my first self-published game and I take pride in that even though it didn't do too well financially in comparison to the games I publish with Hosted Games. 😅

All that to say, I'll try to have at least the prologue of book 2 drafted in October, so join the Patreon for more family drama, more bodyguard romance, and all the other love interests. 😀

And yes, this will be the title, the cover, and the blurb for book 2.

For context about the cover: (Spoilers)

-The blond guy is Marcus Fargos. One of the people who sent MC a letter at the end of book 1. Marcus is the heir of the Tabloids who keep saying bad things about MC's family. So Marcus is Bob/Vera's boss.

-The blond lady is Marisca Blackstone. She may be a damsel in distress or not. She's the diamond princess because her family owns several diamond mines in South Africa.

-The guy with the drink is Kev's Brother. That character is gender customizable in the game, so for my MC, I went with the male version, Raine Montecristo.

Some questions and answers.

Book 2 will focus on whether MC wants to save the family business or sell it and walk away.

Saving it will mean choosing one of the 3 investors to merge with.

Selling it will also be one of those investors to sell it to, but MC will need the family's approval to sell because everyone has a share in the company.

Yes, the 3 investors will be romanceable even though you already have a love interest from book 1. They will mainly be hookups, but hookups that will stick around throughout the whole game.

Of course, more murders and mysteries.

More romance. I want to develop the romance with the love interests from book 1.

More steamy scenes.

More interaction with the remaining family members. So yes, Benny will come back with his new husband.

There will be a lot more, but that's all I can think of for now. 💕

#insert rich family name

422 notes · View notes

simp2537 · 5 months ago

Text

Masterlist

🔥-Smut 🧨-Angst

🩹-Hurt/Comfort 🧸-Fluff

🫶🏻-Yandere

🗝️-Dark/Darkish Aleksander Morozova

Series

Moon Helios: Y/n Starkov a legendary warrior, fierce protecter and monster. Bred and broken in servitude to her saint. She knows nothing but her mission in life. To live, and die at her saint’s command. Aleksander Morozova the most powerful of the grisha, a monster. A general who has been fighting alone for hundreds of years. She hates him, he needs her. 🔥🧨🩹🧸🗝️

Series trigger warnings: Child abuse, anxiety, religious trauma, racism, manipulation, division of canon, Alina hate?, trauma, ptsd, bullying, insomnia, self-neglect, mental health issues, guilt tripping, cult theme, blood consumption, cannibalism?? Lost of murder, talks of SA in other characters, Sexual acts, future smut, predatory behavior(not from Aleks) and all other shadow and bone stuff

Act I : Face Claims Act l : Prologue Act l : The academy Act I : Burn Marks Act I : Where’s my epic background music Act I : Necklace for a Lifetime Act I : The Motherland Act I : A Helios is Born

Series Blurs

I Have a Dream

Oneshots

Marking (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) 🔥 Touch her and die (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) 🩹🧨 Scars (Aleksander Morozova x wife reader)🧨🩹 Tension (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader)🔥

Harry Potter

Series

N/a

Oneshots

A Miracle (Mattheo Riddle x pregnant!reader) 🩹 A Fathers love (Matthe Riddle x wife!reader)🩹🧸🧨 Reunion (King!Siris Black x fem!reader)🩹🧸

John Wick

Series

Pupllis: She was a weapon from birth. Born and bred to kill for the high table. John Wick a legendary assassin who knew more fame than any. She was a gift to him, he didn’t want to keep her. As there time together passes and they learn to care for one anyone the High Table comes for them. platonic! John wick x child!fem! Reader.🩹🧨🔥🗝️🧸 (Smut is not with John but future Oc)

Chapters One

Oneshots

N/a

My Hero Academia

Series

The Final Alice: Aizawa never wanted to be a father but that plan was thrown away when he found a girl during a mission. This girl was like no child he’d ever seen before. As she grew her power and background remained a mystery. How will her life turn when she meets a charming red head with sharp teeth and an explosive blonde. platonic!Aizawa x daughter!reader, KiriBaku x fem!reader.🧨🩹🔥🧸

Help Pick A Hero Name Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter EightChapter Nine Chapter Ten

Oneshots

N/a

Narnia

Series

From the Stars : A star fairy and the prince of the kingdom that destroyed hers. What could happen? Prince Caspian x fem!reader🧨🧨🧨🔥🩹

Sneak Peak

Oneshots

Yandere Prince Caspian x reader headcannons🫶🏻 Something New (King Caspian x wife reader) 🔥

Percy Jackson

Series

N/a

Oneshots

Runaway (Percy Jackson x gn!reader)🧨🧨🩹🫶🏻🗝️ Misery is the Truest way of Love (Yandere Pereabeth x gn!reader)🫶🏻🧨🗝️ Lovers Quarrel (Pereabeth x gn!reader)🧨🩹 Stage Lovers (Yandere Perceabth x male!reader) 🧨🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🗝️

Blurs

Bottom Percy 🔥

Winx Club

Series

Fairy of Monsters : Alastaria the forgotten sister of Bloom. She slowly begins to unravel her true nature, thread by thread. How will she survive the many trials of her life. Sky of Eraklyon x Oc. Dark Winx Club fix.🩹🧨🗝️

Chapters one : Advesperascit Chapter two : Monochopsis Chapter three : Kalopsia

Oneshots

N/a

The 100

Series

Project SS: It stared as an idea. Take a dying child and infect them with the SS serum. These children would be raised in isolation, to be the future soldiers for the ark, then earth.

Most died out over time.

Not her, Not Y/n Kane. The only child of Marcus Kane and his wife Alice Kane. After her birth, born with a weak heart Alice Kane decided to give her to the scientists that were working on the project.

Forging her husband’s signature upon the document Alice Kane was sentenced to death. The deal though and Y/n Kane became the most deadly of the super soldiers.

When protecting a friend she finds herself in a cell. Then in her way to earth with the rest of the 100. How will her love continue knowing she’s just puppet to be controlled. Will she grow out of such a horrible situation and blossom with the help of her friends and loved ones. Or will she fall so deep into her created identity that there is no hope. Bellamy Blake x fem!reader.🔥🧨🩹🗝️

Sneak Peak Chapter One Chapter Two

Dead Boy Detectives

Series

Scylla: She’s a half-breed mutt and he’s a crow. She was trapped in hell for hundreds of years before she met a teenage ghost who helped her escape. They later met another boy who would soon die and join there friendship. The group created the Dead Boy Detective Agency. Later as their classes become more difficult pieces of her life before her friends is slowly revealed. What should happen when she met and falls deeply and helplessly in love with an enemy crow. 🔥🧨🩹

Sneak peek Cast Chapter One Chapter Two

Oneshots

Poly Crystal Palace x mermaid reader x Niko Sasaki🧸

Request list/Requests are Open

#masterlist #aleksander morozova x reader #harry potter x reader #narnia x reader #mha x reader #kiribaku x reader #john wick x y/n #sky of eraklyon #percy jackson x reader #request #the 100 x reader #dead boy detectives

120 notes · View notes

bizarrebazaar13 · 3 months ago

Text

FL-inspired book recs!

brought to you by hotel wi-fi

Locations

The Royal Bethlehem: “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, and “The Room in the Tower” by E.F. Benson. these are short stories, not novels, but they are fairly quick reads and are about locations where reality becomes twisted. the yellow wallpaper deals with mental illness and medical neglect, while the room in the tower is more about the overlap between dreams and the real world.

Port Carnelian: Mycroft Holmes by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. ok, hear me out on this one. if you’ve ever thought port carnelian would be great if it actually dealt with British colonialism and racism in a meaningful way and also had a murder mystery, you might like this book. a much younger Mycroft Holmes goes with his friend Cyrus Douglas to Douglas’s home in Jamaica to investigate a series of mysterious deaths.

Ladybones Road: The Watchmaker of Filigree Street by Natasha Pulley. Nathaniel Steepleton finds a gold pocket watch in his bedroom one day, but he cannot open it or even hear it ticking. six months later, it opens on its own, and an alarm goes off at the precise time that a bomb explodes in Scotland Yard. he then goes in search of its maker, Keita Mori, who claims the watch was stolen from his shop. Mori has a gift for elaborate clockwork, and though he seems kind and relatively harmless, Nathaniel is sure he is hiding something.

Ambitions/Major Storylines

Early Light Fingers: The House of Silk by Anthony Horowitz. it’s a Sherlock Holmes pastiche, but it can still be understood and enjoyed even if you don’t share my Sherlock Holmes autism. I specified early light fingers, because the mystery of what exactly the house of silk is, and the theme of corruption in highest levels of society, reminds me a lot of exploring and learning about the orphanage. just a heads up, this book is centered around a murdered child, and deals with the systemic abuse and neglect of children in victorian london. its biggest content warning is also its biggest spoiler, so I won’t give it here, but feel free to ask me. I had it spoiled for me on accident and still liked the book a lot.

Late-game Nemesis: “The Moonlit Road” by Ambrose Pierce. another short story, it recounts in three parts the murder of Julia Hetman, as told by her son, her husband, and Julia herself. it specifically reminds me of the dreams of the dead section of nemesis.

Evolution: Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant. Tory Stewart becomes obsessed with mermaids after her sister Anne’s disappearance. Anne was filming a mockumentary about mermaids in the Mariana Trench, but the ship she was on disappeared, and was recovered weeks later with no trace of the crew. footage was found that appeared to show the crew being murdered by mermaids, but it’s largely believed to be for the movie, not real. seven years later, Theodore Blackwell recruits Tory as part of his mission to return to the Mariana Trench and capture a live mermaid. it hits sort of the same spot for undersea survival horror that the diving bell section of evolution did for me.

Exceptional Stories

The Bloody Wallpaper: Sign Here by Claudia Lux. hell is an office. literally. Peyote Trip sold his soul while he was alive, and now works in hell, convincing other people to do the same. he’s one deal away from a big promotion, and all he needs is the soul of one last member of the Harrison family. normal laws of space and time don’t apply, the real hellscape is capitalism, and secrets don’t stay hidden forever… sound familiar? in terms of violence and body horror, I don’t think it gets much worse than the text of the bloody wallpaper. one of the main characters does have a pretty brutal backstory involving christianity-related child abuse though.

Totentanz: Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. set in late 1920s Mexico, the story follows Casiopea Tun and the Mayan death god Hun-Kamé on a journey across Mexico and eventually into the underworld. Casiopea finds Hun-Kamé’s bones in a chest in her grandfather’s house, and when she cuts her finger on one of the bone shards, Hun-Kamé becomes bound to her. together, they must find the rest of his body, which has been scattered around Mexico by Hun-Kamé’s brother Vucub-Kamé, who took over control of Xibalba from him. Hun-Kamé intends to retake Xibalba, but he and Casiopea must face sorcerers, demons, and twisted family dynamics- and that’s before they even get to the underworld.

#aelan speaks #fallen london #book recommendations #pleaseeeeee feel free to come talk to me about any of these or request more recs #i love books

96 notes · View notes

respectthepetty · 2 years ago

Note

Hi and sorry I spam you with unnecessary asks all the time!

My actual question this time is about Manner of Death and if there is anything about the show that you picked up on, such as its colours or cinematography.

Cheers, A most unobservant viewer

@sliceduplife -

You catch shared locations in your side hustle, so you are VERY observant!

I love you tagging me, asking me questions, and sharing your delight about random tidbits! It's not spam; it's my love language.

Don't ever apologize to me, especially for a MaxTul related question.

You already know I stay on my bullshit, so this is going to be a lengthy response.

Manner of Death? Colors!

I'm going to be honest, when it comes to a MaxTul show, I focus on other elements.

Their shows have so many other distractions.

My brain, watching a MaxTul show, while I'm trying to examine the colors:

But my brain is a powerful weapon, so even when I'm drowning in MaxTul's chemistry, I still notice the other aspects I love:

Colors

Bun and Tan are color-colored boys in love. The poster tells us.

Dr. Bun is a Blue Boy (stable, sincere, intelligent).

Tan is a Black Brooder (protective, mysterious, arrogant).

Then, we have the mini Bun and Tan - Sorn and That. Sorn is a Blue Boy and That is a Black Brooder. Even their bikes matched their colors.

Tan and Bun did wear other colors (dark greens, browns and some reddish browns as neutrals), but stuck well to their colors (pictures throughout). Even in the cameo on Triage, they were color-coded.

When Bun moved into Tan's house, Tan quickly picked up Bun's blue.

And they switched them often.

Tan sent his Black Brooder mini, That, to protect Bun. We see That had already fallen for Sorn from his blue clothing choice. That wore blue a lot after Sorn helped him.

When Tan proposed to Bun, he wore blue while his kidnapping squad wore black (picture is later), and in the end, they were both together in white (marriage!).

Barriers

Lighting was used often for showing secrets (darkness) and honesty (light), and barriers were also used in a similar way.

When Bun kissed Tan in the club, he was drunk; however, BOTH of them remembered the kiss and the light spotlighting them in a dark space showcases that. Between Us did something similar with Win and Team during their first kiss and continued it throughout the show.

While subtly discussing the kiss, a barrier formed between them because both were talking around the kiss rather than directly stating they remembered it. However, Tan was tip-toeing the line and continued to get closer to Bun with each statement he made.

After that, the barriers between them always popped up when Bun was suspicious of Tan (notice the blues and blacks):

BUT (and this is what I find interesting about the two directors), the camera moves often in this show. Instead of staying still during a shot, the camera slowly moved (panned), so the barriers between them dissolved. Normally, if a camera moves (pans), barriers EMERGE not disappear.

This happened with That and Sorn as well. (I wish I had time for GIFs!)

But Manner of Death showed that although Tan and That were being secretive, it was not a barrier. Even when the barriers didn't disappear (into the Blue Boy), the Blue Boy crossed it or forced the other to cross it. Bun and Sorn truly trusted their mysterious mafia boyfriends even when they didn't have a good reason to! That's the loyalty of a Blue Boy boyfriend.

Each time Bun tried to learn a little more about Tan, they had a tree (life) cut between them.

But in the end, they joined together (Tan in blue and Bun in gray) in front of a tree to commit their lives to each other.

Although the barriers between the boys disappeared or they crossed them, the places the camera stayed still and the barriers stuck were telling to the plot.

If Rung was there, so was a barrier. When she spoke to her sister, there was usually a barrier. Also, when Inspector M told Bun he was dropping the case, a static barrier appeared.

Random

Tan is shown several times in the first episodes (before the reveal of who his family is and why they treat him the way they do) looking up to a person or at the bottom of stairs while the the other person is higher.

Bun had to borrow clothes from Dr. Oat, and the shirt he had to wear says "Single, Please Flirt" which is why all the women were smiling at him and giving him their numbers.

I could write all day about this show, but I have a picture limit, so know that cinematographer Kuea Napon Tippanya earned that paycheck. Also note that Kuea will be the cinematographer for the upcoming Tonnam and Title series Wish You Luck.

Wish You Luck's teaser had several outdoor shots, so if you liked the outdoor and exterior shots in Manner of Death, which I personally thought were well done, I think Kuea will do the beauty of Thailand justice. Kuea's other shows also focused heavily on the environment being incorporated into the narrative, so I'm tuning in to Wish You Luck not just for the leads, but for the cinematography and the landscapes.

And because I can never not ask these questions - WHERE ARE MY MURDER MYSTERY HUSBANDS?! WHERE IS TRANSPLANT? WHEN WILL I SEE THEM AGAIN?!

WHEN?!

#Manner of Death #MaxTul #Tan x Bun #color coded boys #the colors mean things #the cinematography #Blue Boy x Black Brooder #They even have minis #Wish You Luck has the same cinematographer #Where is Transplant?!#Where are my murder mystery husbands?!#I MISS THEM!

60 notes · View notes

aurawrawr · 1 month ago

Text

Who am I to you?

Part 2

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna x afab reader x twin brother and Kingsguard Yuuji Itadori

Yuuji is married to the love of his life, not knowing that he might not be the love of her life. And what happens when a mysterious entity stomps (back) into their lives? Is he blessing or a curse?

There's a backstory. And, there will be a part 3.

Minors, DNI. WC: 4.7k

CW: talk of pregnancy, inability to conceive, PIV sex, oral (m and f receiving), creampie, breeding, menstruation, murder, violence, physical abuse (itty bitty), and just a lot of angst and yearning

"You're here again?"

In the years following Ryomen's disappearance, your favorite spot to retreat to when everything around you becomes overwhelming, is the pond. You sit on the staircase, letting the water kiss your feet and over time, prune your toes like the skin of a date fruit. Something about the movements of the waterbody, the slow wind sending ripples in motion, the sting and the chill of the night air, is so calming, it often brings you to tears. Tears you shed for nobody else.

Your husband always finds you though. You know he knows where you flee to but he always gives you ample time to compose yourself before coming to find you. Yuuji has been a gift for the last few years, tending to your every need, caring for you even though you sometimes lose yourself to the nostalgia of your adolescence. You love him. Of course, you do. You'd have been a fool not to give your heart to this man.

He's so sincere in the way he loves you. Even four years after the wedding, there has not been a single day when he demanded gratitude for saving your dignity in front of the townspeople. He still gets you flowers every day and on days, he gets sent away on duties, he moves you and your mother to a safehouse he built by himself to keep you away from the new Lord of the house.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he lies as he settles down behind you, his knees on your sides. You lean against him and he kisses the top of your head.

"But I'm right here," you joke.

He looks over at the pond. The moon's light reflects on the rippling water, flaunting its slender waxing crescent. "You know, my love, the Moon seems to be saying something."

You know what he's talking about. "Really? What might that be?"

"That I should take my wife to bed. Shall we heed to the Moon's suggestions, my darling?"

He makes you giggle. You rest your head against his chest, giving him access to the soft and sensitive flesh of your neck. Yuuji runs his long fingers over your skin and you smile with relief. "You smell like home," he whispers. "You are home."

Yuuji leads you back into the guards' quarters, up the stairs and into the room you two share. "May I?" He asks, his fingers mere inches away from the knots that hold together your furisode.

You link your arms around your husband's neck and nod. He smiles, putting a firm kiss on your temple, grins as he eventually lands on your lips. He still gets goofy and shy, even after all this time. You work on the ties of his jinbei, pushing it over his shoulders. You push down the pants and cup the front of his fundoshi. Yuuji hums into your mouth as you continue kissing him, stroking him. His strong, labor beaten hands are on your hips, squeezing your soft skin. His breath is jittery, eyelashes shut tight in anticipation of your next move.

You lead him to your conjugal bed and sit down. Untying the knots behind his back, you let him free. "My sweet love," he chokes on his whisper as you take him in his mouth, a little bit at first, kissing and licking your way down the stem, and then in his entirety. Yuuji rests his hand on the back of your head, fixing your loose hair in place. Water sprouts at the corners of eyes as his length hits the back of your throat. He's long, not as girthy, but hits you in all the right places. He's sweet in his lovemaking, understands and prioritizes your needs over his. But you realized this very early in your marriage that when you take the lead, he is more at ease.

"Aah, my love," he moans, his grip in your hair tightening. "You're so... You're so good to me. You're so good for me. Aah. Oh. Love, let me... let me please you."

You fall back on the bed, your robes opening up to expose yourself to your husband. Yuuji kneels and dips his head in between your thighs. His mouth finds your clitoris easily; he knows his way around your body. His sincerity shines through as he eats you. All you can do is tremble and moan under his ministration, clutch his pink hair in between your fingers. "Yuu... Yuu... come here, will you?"

Yuuji heeds to your command. Cradling your head, he kisses you. His body presses against yours as he slides in. "Do you... think we'll be lucky tonight?"

You two have been trying to have a baby for over a year now. You've tracked your cycle down to the science, you've been cooking the healthiest meals for your husband and yourself, you've gone to temples to pray so you may bear a child even though you're almost certain you're an atheist.

Better not to put pressure on ourselves, my darling, that is what you want to tell him but you don't want to dampen his enthusiasm either. So you say, "I'm sure we will, love."

Your words reinvigorate Yuuji. He smooches your lips before rising to his knees. Hitching the heels of your feet over his shoulders, he gets to work. You watch as his sculpted hips roll against yours, feel him inside you, hard and pulsating, optimistic about filling you up with at least one offspring. His fingers curl around the soft give of your thighs as he thrusts, his breath all over the place, pink hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

He's a vision when he makes love to you. A vision of delusion. For, most nights, you don't see your husband on top of you. It's him, all right, his body and his hands and his tongue but the only thing that brings you to climax each of these nights is the image of another man glued to the back of your eyelids. You've scared yourself to death on some peculiar nights when, as soon as Yuuji's head hits the pillow beside yours, spent, skin glowing from the aftermath of his pleasure, you turn to him and see Ryomen.

It's immoral, even thinking of another man in your conjugal bed. But you fear you'll forget Ryomen's face if you don't bring him to the front of your mind in these debauched ways. But, for how much longer can you keep this up? There will be a day when you won't be able to recall even the image of his lips closing in on yours on the day he left.

A reason, he had said. A reason for what?

"Everything alright, my love?"

You turn and your heart leaps into your throat. It's only Yuuji.

Yuuji touches the side of your face as he settles beside you. You didn't even realize when he was done. "Was I being too rough?" He asks.

You shake your head, calming yourself down. "No, no, I'm only concentrating on... keeping it all... inside."

Yuuji scrunches his nose. "You know, my dear, when you put it like that, it takes all the romance out of it."

You chuckle, letting your husband pull you into an embrace. "It can be a little clinical, I suppose."

"I promise it'll be relieving once we have our little bundle of joy with us," he says it so lightheartedly but you know he's been worrying about this all the time. He's the one who proposed having a child, the one who plans the trips to the temples, shops for the freshest vegetables and fruits for you, and if there's anybody who's more in pain than you when the bleeding starts, it's him. Maybe, you've often thought to yourself, he wishes to compensate his own father's misdemeanor by being a good father himself.

It has been a long time since the last emergency at the Itadori mansion so to say you were amazed when you were woken up by scattered screaming and fleeting footsteps outside your door, would be an understatement. The sunlight is slanting through the blinds of your window. Your husband is not beside you — must be up and about with his morning duties. You had bled the night before, dampening all of Yuuji's hopes again. But he had put up a smile for your sake and said, "We'll try next time, dear."

But what is this commotion?

You leave your bed lazily, taking slow steps to the door lest you may stain all your garments. Guards and servants are running around outside, as if for their lives, parents are carrying their children, some are leaving the establishment through the back door. You pull one of the familiar faces by their wrist. "What is going on?"

"There's a monster on the prowl. He's headed in the direction of the mansion. Pack your things. Leave a note for Yuuji, he'll find you later."

"A monster?"

"Yes. Huge, huge monster. With four arms and a ghastly face. He has a trident too."

Your acquaintance leaves you more confused than she found you. With a determination to find out the truth and also look for your husband, you wrap a robe around your shoulders and step out. The courtyard is jostling with people, guards and servants and guests alike; your once familiar playspace has become a foreign refugee camp. You spot Yuuji by the gates, welcoming anxious townspeople.

"What are you doing out here, my love?" He asks as soon as he sees you walking toward him, screaming over the chaos. He takes you by the arm. "Go to your mother's room and stay there. I'll be with you as soon as we figure out what this thing is."

"What is it about a monster?" You scream back.

Yuuji sighs. "I haven't seen it yet but we've received news that a huge, unrecognizable beast with four arms is on its way here."

"Here? Toward the mansion? So why is everyone gathering here? Shouldn't we be trying to escape?"

"We'll be safe here. The walls are high and the gates have recently been reinforced. Don't—"

Before Yuuji can finish his thought, the chaos around you crescendoes. The single line of people entering the Lord's establishment breaks off into multiple distributaries, and people start scattering in any direction they can find. There's a loud thump just outside, like a mountain just crash landed on the lawn outside.

There's a long pause between the thump and the next, as if the monster is waiting for everyone to settle before making an entrance. When the crowd at the gate has finally thinned, you, bravely, stick your neck out from behind your husband to catch a glimpse of the fabled beast.

A wind rises out of nowhere, lifting the usual smells of the mansion and the village up and away, and introduces something new in the air. No, not something new. Something familiar. The smell of a boy's sweat, mixed with the rain he got drenched in because he refused to use a parasol and the dirt he trained his muscles in.

Ryo. Your heart cries out from within your ribcage.

"Make way for the King of Curses." You hear a voice you don't recognize.

Yuuji guards you with one arm. His other hand seizes the hilt of the sword at his belt, ready to take action. Everyone, including you, holds their breath, waiting for the beast to appear.

With thundering footsteps, a mighty figure crosses the threshold of the court. Your breath catches in your throat. Your soul knows it's Ryomen but your eyes disagree. The towering height, four arms, thick black marks and ghastly mask aside, he looks nothing like the boy who left you. Is it really him? Is there even a semblance left of the Ryo you gave your heart to?

Before you can test your theory, the young Lord of the house stomps his way out of his mansion. Even with shaky breath at the sight of the giant, he stands his ground. "How dare... you step foot in my... my home?"

"Payback." The monster growled. There's a shadow of a voice you remember, heavily laced with another, more evil, vibratto that is unknown to you.

Like an unannounced storm, the dirt at the beast's feet rises and he leaps to where the Lord is standing, immediately grabbing him by the throat. The puny human, in his comparison, struggles to breathe but kicks in his defence nonetheless. His guards swarm the assailant, poking his thick skin with their weapons. The monster swats them away like tsetse flies with his second set of hands.

"Go to your mother's room." Yuuji pushes you back, trying his best to keep you away from what he saw as only a new curse fallen upon your daily lives. "We'll escape as soon as I find a way out of here. Go. Now."

You loosen your grasp on his arm and start tiptoeing in the direction of the quarters, your eyes fixed on the monster's form. It is Ryo. It has to be. Your heart wants to cry out his name, run into his embrace and complain to him like you used to before. Does he not recognize you? Why did he not look for you?

"Let... me... go," the Lord gurgles up through his pinched windpipe. His thrashes are growing weaker by the moment, the light from his eyes slowly being dragged out in a court full of audience.

The woman is tired so the little girl in you comes forward to take the reins. She somehow believes only you can stop him. But you're a moment too late. By the time you muster up the courage to call out his name, Ryomen has already succeeded in taking the Lord's life with his one bare hand.

"Ryo!" You scream out.

He drops the body from his grip. You know he has heard you because the eyes on his mask meet yours. You can feel several other eyes on you as well, including Yuuji's. He's confused, you can tell.

But there is no time to worry about the reactions your stunt has garnered. You start to walk toward the monster. You're only a few steps in when a sharp hit lands on your cheek, knocking you down. No hand comes to your help; everyone around is cemented in place with fear and in your husband's case, fury.

"It's Sukuna-sama for you." It's the same unfamiliar voice as before that had announced Ryomen's entry. Their words are momentarily followed by a sharp cry for help.

You look up as soon as you habituate yourself to the sting on your cheek. Ryomen, or Sukuna, or whoever the beast is, is holding the kimono-wearing, short haired person up by the scruff of their neck.

"Sukuna-sama, please. Please," they bargain for their life.

"Stick to your job, Uraume," Sukuna growls. "Lest you may lose an arm or worse, your tongue. You're no use to me if you can't chant." He lets them go, like a playtoy he's growing weary of. "Prepare my quarters. Ready the town for my coronation. Appoint my court of guards. Those are your duties. Keep yourself busy with them. Understood?"

"Ye– yes, Sukuna-sama. My apologies." They take a deep bow before facing you again.

Yuuji rushes to stand between you and Uraume but your sight is fixed on the wandering eyes of Sukuna. You're even more convinced now that it's Ryomen. With a hand on your cheek, you rise to your feet and boldly call for him again. “Ryo!” He stops. His assistant looks furious but helpless in front of their master. “Ryo, it’s me… and Yuuji. Ryo!”

“What are you doing?” Your husband stops you. “It’s not Aniki.”

“It is. Can’t you see? It’s him. Ryo!”

Some other townspeople come over and try to calm you down. “Do you have a death wish? Didn’t you see how he mercilessly killed the Lord?”

Uraume clears their throat, garnering the attention of the crowd. “The Lord you once served is dead. Sukuna-sama is now your King and your God. His wishes are orders for you all to follow. If any of you dare to disobey him, well... you just witnessed what the consequences can be. Who, might I ask, is the head of the household staff?"

"That would be me."

Heads turn to where the voice comes from. Your mother has come out of her room and with the support of her cane and a girl much younger to you, stands in between the monster and the people. Her vision has become much weaker over the last few years; she insists she can get by just fine but you grow worrisome every time she squints, stumbles against walls and drops things because she placed them at the edge of the table. If there was any residual doubt about the King of Curses being Ryomen in your mind, they're washed away when your mother, even with her blurry eyesight, asks the monster, "Will Ryoryo-chan like his old room back?"

The giant's jaw tightens. He's been caught red-handed. He can deny you but you know, he cannot deny the only woman who has given him a mother's love. But before he can respond, Utahime barges in. "I'll be taking a look at the room before deciding—"

"No need. I'll take it." Sukuna interrupts.

The crowd flocks to the shrunken body of the Lord of the past, and you and your husband eun to your mother. You run into her arms, crying, "Okaa-san, Okaa-san! Ryo... why would Ryo not recognize me?"

"My love, we're not sure it's him." Yuuji is still unconvinced.

"It is." The tears keep coming even though your mother keeps wiping them off. You rub your running nose. "It's him. I know it in my bones."

"Fine. I'll go and ask him myself." Your husband sounds a little frustrated. "If he really is my brother, I'll come back without a single scratch on my body. And if it's not, that assistant of his might send me back in a coffin."

Your heart shatters. "Yuuji, don't say that. You don't have to go. If this is the arrangement he wants to live by, we should be fine with it."

"I won't stand and watch my wife shed tears for a man, a monster, we don't know. If I die trying to find out if it really is her dearest friend, it'll still be worth it."

"Stop it." You swat at his arm. "Stop it, Yuuji, will you? There's nothing I want more in this life than your well-being."

"You!" Uraume demands your attention. You see a servant escorting your mother away while the devil's assistant walks toward you. "The servants said you lead the kitchen, do you?"

"I do."

"Come with me. You need to start preparing for Sukuna-sama's lunch."

Yuuji gives your hand a last little squeeze before heading to join his brothers in arms for cleanup, and you follow Uraume. As you walk beside them, you're drawn to notice their demure nature. The air about them is strict, poignant, commanding.

"May I ask you a question, Uraume-san?" You straighten your back.

They hum in response.

"How long have you been with Ry... Sukuna-sama?"

They look at you from the corner of their eye. "For as long as I can remember." You enter the kitchen and they make their way to the pantry. They check the vegetables for their freshness before turning, "Where's the meat?"

"The butcher will get it fresh from the poultry," You answer.

"Good. So, what you will make is–"

You interrupt. "A spicy meat and vegetables curry to go with a bowl of rice, and some sweet to go at the end. Right?"

"Make two helpings of that."

You nod. Like he has two mouths, that's what your mother always said when you three used to sit down for supper.

With an unfaltering determination and tears in your eyes, you get to work. Why won't the tears stop coming? It has been so long that you've cooked for Ryo, you want to make everything that he likes. But it would take long, you wouldn't be able to finish before lunchtime and you're afraid Uraume would scream at you again. Your cheek is still sore from her earlier admonition so you don't want to test fate.

Per the instructions given to you, you arrange the food on a tray and carry it up the stairs just after noon. Your monthly discomfort has been pushed to the recesses of your mind, overrun by the thoughts of what to cook for Ryo's dinner.

It has been so long since you've been allowed to enter this side of the mansion when this is where you had grown up, playing house on the floor of the twins' shared room, climbing out of the window, giggling with Yuuji, drawing moustaches on a sleeping Ryomen and waiting for him to wake up and scream at the two of you. You draw open the patio door and step inside. It's empty, except for a pair of pallets pushed together to make a bigger bed for the giant that Ryo has become. You place the tray of food in front of it and wait. Will you be allowed to see him now? Is that why you were given these instructions?

The door swipes open again. You tense up but immediately realize it's not Ryo. You would have recognized him in a heartbeat.

"What are you doing here?" Uraume snaps, making you flinch. Without waiting for an answer, they command, "Leave before Sukuna-sama sees you. He prefers dining alone. Come back in an hour and not a moment earlier."

You cower out of the door but don't head downstairs immediately. You know this house, its layout, both its strong pillars and its cracks. So you crouch by the patio, one eye through the slit in between it's wooden boards. On the other wall of the room, there is another door that slides open. You watch Uraume bowing deeply as a hulking figure crosses through, a red and black kimono loosely hanging around his torso.

Finally, you get the opportunity to examine this new Ryomen. What did he do to himself? How does one grow a second pair of arms in the span of five years?

"Sukuna-sama, your lunch has been served. Might I be of any service during your meal?" Uraume speaks at the floor.

"When did you have the time to cook?"

"It was not me, my Lord, but one of the household staff. The woman from earlier who dared to–"

"Leave."

Without any further conversation, Uraume exits the room. You watch with your hand clasped at your chest as Ryomen takes a seat and you wonder if the rush in his step is just something you're imagining. Could it be that he is just as elated to consume the meal that you cooked as you were while cooking?

"You... how dare you?"

Your back stiffens at the voice behind you. Uraume towers over you, glaring down, rheir voice hushed. "I told you to leave and you're still here, eavesdropping and worse, peeping. You would be dead by now if and only if it weren't for Sukuna-sama. Now get out of here before I change my mind."

"Please," you beg. "Please let me see him once. Please."

"Do you wish to be dragged out of here by your hair?"

"Please."

"Leave. Now."

𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸

The first night upon Aniki's return, she cried and complained and threw a fit. Her heart was breaking from having her best friend returned to her but not in the state she wanted. To be fair to her state of mind, I still don't know why Aniki chose to not recognize any of us. Which is why, I am out tonight to get my own answers. As his brother and recently anointed Commander of the Kingsguard, I am certain I wouldn't be killed. But that's not enough.

I'm looking for solutions to my wife's melancholy. And if he really is my brother, my protective and ever pampering big brother, then I have a request.

I pass by the kitchen with nimble steps, up the stairs, across the quarters of the witchy person who insists they're only protecting Aniki and stop just short of a few steps in front of the room. Our room. The room Aniki and I grew up in, the one he has hogged all to himself now. How selfish! Not that I would sleep in any room where my wife isn't there beside me but he could have at least asked.

A chill goes down my spine, halting me before I take another step. What is this force, this power? Where is it even coming from?

I turn to my right and there he is, a giant with four arms standing at the edge of the floor, leaning on the recently reinforced iron railings. It is still hard to believe this is the brother I have always known to be kind and benevolent, who has now killed at least one person.

Now that I'm here, how do I approach him? From the looks of it, he hasn't figured out I'm here. This is exactly how I used to pull all my pranks on him. Fine, then. A prank, it is.

I take a couple of careful steps in his direction. He seems to be completely lost in some thought. Pausing, I call out. "Aniki?"

"Hmm?" There it is, my brother’s trademarked grunt. It's followed by a jolting up of his spine and a long sigh. The incredible force of power eases in the atmosphere around me. When he turns, I finally see my brother. His face may have become something unrecognizable but that guilty smirk on his face — I've been seeing it since we were three.

"Caught me."

"So it really is you. She was right all along."

Aniki only smiles, the two eyes on his mask zoning in on my face in a manner of scrutiny. "Leave if you're here to talk about her."

"Why? Does she not deserve to know her friend has returned? Does she not deserve to see you?"

"She shouldn't have to see me just because I have returned. Not like this."

"Aniki." I walk up to him. He's so much taller than me now, and so much bigger. "I won't ask what happened to you in the last few years but now that you're here, I expect you to be a brother for me. And a friend for her. Are you planning on leaving again soon? Because if not, how do you plan to ignore us for the rest of our lives?"

"I am doing just fine. It is you lot that has been pestering me and Uraume."

"And, rightfully so. I deserve to celebrate my brother's return. My wife deserves to know her cooking is being cherished by her friend."

He scoffs. "Your wife, huh?" I nod. "How was the wedding?"

"Simple. We had to rush it so the... well, the then Lord couldn't interfere. I wanted to wait for you but thankfully we didn't. What if you were never going to come back? I'd have never gotten to marry the love of my life."

"The love of your life?" He smiles and I can't nudge the feeling that there's a hint of woe on his face. It's gone in an instant though, replaced by a cheery spirit. "So where are the children? All the brats I've seen running around in the yard are those of the servants. Do I not get to see my nephews and nieces?"

"We haven't had any yet," I inform, gearing up for my turn to question.

"Why not? I remember you telling me you wanted a whole gang to play kemari with. Didn't know it was her you wanted to be their mother." He continues when I only reply with a hum. "So what happened? Were you waiting for me to come back and give you permission to fuck your wife?"

"Not permission but... I might need your help."

"How can I help, Yuuji?"

"You see, Aniki... I think the problem is me. I... I can't really explain it but... will you please have a child with her?"

please don't copy my work, or publish it elsewhere without my consent. all banners are from pinterest.

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuji itadori #itadori yuuji #yuuji x reader #yuuji itadori smut #jjk yuuji #sukuna ryomen #sukuna angst #sukuna and yuji #twins yuuji and sukuna #sukuna true form #jjk fanfic #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk angst

67 notes · View notes

earthnashes · 2 months ago

Text

Heyooooo ya'll! Figured it'd be a good idea to give a quick lil update on what I'm up to since it's been a while since I just talked on here.

If you don't wanna read here's the TL;DR:

-Fanart and headcanon AU projects in indefinite hiatus. This tumblr will host my commissioned art, original art/OC projects, and occasional tomfoolery of my thoughts, worldbuilding posts, interests, and updates on my Powerlifting venture.

The full update under the break! :)

Not so good news: Rent's going up. Who's isn't, right? Gonna be putting a serious effort on looking for a new place (I'm reeaaallly gunning for a house) because SHEEEEEEEEEEEESH that spike in price for the exact same shit? Nah man. Likely will get rough a few times over the next few months but I'm confident I'll figure things out!

----

I'm doing relatively good! Cool news: I will be competing in my first powerlifting meet this year! It's been made official as of two months ago, and I've been hard at work with training and prep for the meet. I have my eye on making the state record for the Benchpress in my weightclass and I think I have real shot at it, so I'm gonna make the attempt. Wish me luck! ;w;

Now, the crux of why the update: I figured it was probably high time to mention the complete lack of fanart and headcanons 'round here, especially because that's what helped me find all of you and vice versa.

I'll be honest; I am no longer burnt out on creating art, but I've found the interest to continue any of my AU fanprojects is still missing, so as of right now they are on an indefinite hiatus. I apologize to everyone who followed me for the Super Mario, the LoZ stuff, anything and everything I was working on before the burnout! ;w;

I'm still working on projects, they're just completely original ones! I've been having so much fun with them and I'm pretty happy with them; here's a quick preview of each:

One is a slowburn fantasy where a god becomes trapped in the mortal realm while on a mission, but ends up compromising said mission when she begins to believe everything she knew about mortals is a lie.

The second project is an anthro mystery/thriller about a doe who knows her husband was murdered, but no one else believes her. As she works to find his killer herself, the last thing she expects is falling in love.

The third is the only fanproject I have going and ya'll know of it: Melon's Adventure! Follow Melon as he faces dangers and villains on his quest to return baby Mario to his family. A retelling of Yoshi's Island with twists and a personal flair!

---

But ye! I wanna say thank you all so much for your interest and engagement with my fanart work; regardless of everything I had an absolute great time working on them, and you all made them all the more enjoyable. It may take a little bit before I start posting them, but I hope you stick around for the original/OC stuff and enjoy what I've got in store! ;w;

Feel free to ask questions or make comments, I'll be around to respond starting today. Until then keep them peepers open for more art! :)

#earthsong talks #ash talks #update

68 notes · View notes

melancholicstation · 1 month ago

Text

summer wine ( and an angel’s kiss in spring ) — bobby f. kennedy

taglist: @remotewatch @bloxholden35 @kennediva @h-l-vlovesvintage @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @absurdlyvintage @chemicalw0rld @fortheloveofjos @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @tsloverr-13

summary: during a party hosted in light of senator john f. kennedy’s presidential candidacy announcement, bobby and you sneak away into the background and have about as much fun as a person can have at a political campaign celebration🍷🛌 …

tags: 18+, making love against a secretary desk, religious imagery, hair pulling, oral ( female receiving ), unprotected s*x, desk breaking

words: 1783

Sure, you’ll bite: a campaign celebration soirée for your husband’s older brother’s presidential ticket wasn’t exactly your idea of a rousing saturday evening but when jack tells you to be somewhere, well that’s just where you’re gonna be: at least that’s where bobby would always be.

It’s bordering on 2:00 am and you’ve just about tried as many old fashions and sidecars as you can stomach for the time being so you switch to a vintage choosing of dubonnet cherry wine.

You haven’t talked to bobby much all day which isn’t so out of the ordinary: evidently he was a man very much in demand. You’d just become to miss him as his frame comes into your periphery. A sight just calibrated for your oh so terribly sore eyes!

You smile and beckon him over, not unlike calling over an excitable puppy, he’s quick to start into quick jog. The squeaks of his leather derbies colliding with the teak flooring, but being quickly drowned out to all ears by the booming, assaulting volume of irish ballads playing from the far side of the gathering hall.

“Hey Sugar how’re you doin’? Has Mrs Bridges been hassling you about going that murder-mystery bookclub again I—by god I can see in your face, of course she has. How many times?”

“Three times” you say through breathy laughs as you fuss over the positioning of the shark-type collar he dons, eventually laying it flat against his collarbone littered with blonde baby-hairs like a garden of baby breaths.

“Three times this night or this hour my dear?” He says while responding to my incessant fixing and prodding’s by grabbing the hair from the nape, splitting it into two with hands much larger than yours, arranging them across your shoulders.

“Three times this hour” You move to lay your head across his collarbone but close was never close enough for you as of late, you would nest yourself in his ribs if you could tucked around his sternum. “Oh god, my poor, poor girl. I extend my deepest apologies that I wasn’t there to run interference: though I don’t believe it would’ve stopped her pursuits much” he says in a condescendingly charming fashion.

“Oh you’re really sorry” “Terribly so” “How sorry are you?”

“Well if you join me in the back I can show you just how deep my sympathies truly lie.” He exclaims in a tone that balances the intimacy of such an offer with a boyish-like spin.

The brazenness of his offer makes you giggle profusely, calling the attention to older couples who interact with their partners like they sleep in separate beds: so you don’t pay them much mind, a tell-tale sign that bobby’s one too many of the amortised wines served was his rare streak of promiscuity that would rear its head. Much to your amusement as his wife.

You scurry off little teenagers running to make out under the bleachers, you allow bobby to lead you as he’s more familiar with the event space than you were. He leads you into an abandoned looking secretarial office, with a hand curled around the crevice of your elbow like a devout would hold a beaded rosary, a loving kind of possession.

strawberries cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring…

You both look around the room quite impolitely in sheer curiosity: opening rusty drawers, flicking through empty filing cabinets until you both land on a particular item resting on the wall parallel to the door. A slanted front writing desk in a deep caramel tinted mahogany wood. A brass handle dangles in the breeze from the slightly draft coming in through the door.

Bobby and you both grinning and make eye contact: immediately moving to pull down the handle to woefully find it particularly barren: no secret notes or diary entry’s. Your face mirrors each other’s pout, as you try to test the sturdiness of the writing desk. To your surprise it holds its own under the full weight of your hand. Noticing this Bobby catches on, asking “Do ya’ think it’s sturdy enough?”

“Looks sturdy enough to me” you grin as you slowly back your behind up and onto the desk. Your legs finding balance resting on the lower portion of Bobby’s thigh. Slowly your Mary Jane black pumps start to find perch higher and higher on his thigh, eventually reaching the mound beneath his dress pants. You decide to tease him a bit and start to circle your foot around the mound, to which Bobby moans under his breath, shyly and throws his head back clearly overwhelmed. He lets you toy with him for a few short moments until you’re sure he had had enough, and moves to wrap your legs and thighs around the width of his hips. “Ya sure you want to do this here, y’know I could tell Jack we’ve had an issue with the babysitter and need to get home. I—I just quite feel disrespectful taking you in a place that has about 5 distinguishable moulds living in it. “Not that I don’t want to, cause trust me my girl I do it’s just—“

my summer wine is really made from all these things…

“Hush, I don’t care if there’s mould spors I need you on me this instance Kennedy. Depriving your wife! My I can’t think of a more disrespectful act can you Bobby?” You say in a bullish-yet feminine tone that immediately snaps Bobby out of his overthinking spiral: a good trait in a campaign manager not in a husband. Great for Jack, not so much for you.

“Okay—Okay I’m sorry baby you know how I get” “Oh I do now clear your mind of it this instance”

take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time…

“Totally clear” he says in a self assured tone as he moves to delicately remove his dress pants throwing them over the side of the large ottoman that most definitely has some form of bed bug inhabitants. Leaving him in his torn boxers: that he refuses to throw in the garbage disposal, holes that allow you to see the mountain of hair littered going from his belly button down to his significant mound.

In stark contrast he handles the undressing of yourself with the care and devotion of a man who knows his woman only has eyes for him, and vis versa. He neatly dissembles your outfit: a billowing ruffled crepe blouse paired with a pleated black skirt and flesh coloured tights. In his excavation of your outfit he uncovers the surprise you’d dressed on yourself for him to find.

Once he got you down to just your stockings he could see what you longed for him to find since you slipped them on: a bikini brief with embroidered lettering spelling out “bobby’s girl” on the front in lapis blue.

and i will give to you my summer wine…

Bobby’s face morphs into the face of a man starved: finally finding a dam in a four day trek through an unforgiving desert. The underwear is quickly pulled off and placed hastily into the pocket of his suit jacket, causing his pocket square to be slightly roughened up. To your surprise, but not shock as Bobby was always the kind to give before he ever received himself, got down on his knees and started to lap at your cunt ferociously: talk about a man starved. You’d heard the rumours of Bobby far before you had met him in the flesh, far before you’d married and had children with him: Bobby was thought to have been a ruthless character with the temperament of a caged pit bull.

But that wasn’t the Bobby you saw that day you met him for the first time, and it wasn’t the Bobby you were looking at now. Now he was worshipping, and at his happiest while doing it.

Soon enough you felt the inevitable wave of pleasure wash over you, and in that bliss reached for Bobby always wanting to bask in that with the man who made it all possible. “Did that feel good baby?” “So-so-so-so good Bobby you should have shed that humbleness with me a long time ago” You say as you soothingly ( for the both of you ) try to smooth down tufts of his hair, now severely roughened up, and clear away the luminescent substance absolutely coating the entirety of his chin and a portion of his plush, bottom lip.

But just as you get your wits about you, he starts to line up and invades you in the most decedent way a person could be invaded.

“Harder”

To which Bobby lays flat a hand on your chin, keeping your attention fully locked onto him as he bullies his large mound into your cunt at a solid pace but steadily increasing in fervour. As a cause of this the desk starts to rock. Continually ricocheting rhythmic sounds of the desk hitting the skirting of the wall over, and over, and over again.

“Dear God, you’re as tight as ever. You’re killing me” Bobby continues to praise how soft you are, how good you are to him, and how he can only aspire and yearn to make you feel as good as he does at this moment.

when i woke up the sun was shining in my eyes…

A mounting shudder creeps upon you like a ghost in the night, following behind you Bobby shudders and then finally stills, still sheathed inside you.

You both take a couple minutes to recoup which consists: of lots of handholding, reassuring, and kisses upon naps of necks.

my silver spurs were gone, my head felt twice its size…

It is only when you get up, as Bobby gathers both of your garments, that you identify a large split in the wood spanning from the hinges. You laugh at it half mortified and half impressed with the two of you’s strength and call over Bobby.

my summer wine is really made from all these things.

To which he comes over, observes the large spilt that definitely wasn’t there prior and searches his pockets. In there he finds a letter opener and to your surprise carved into the rich wood:

“Y/n and Bobby forever 1960-01-02”

the end.

#bobby kennedy #robertfkennedy #fuck rfk jr #rfk #robert kennedy #robert f kennedy x reader #robert kennedy x reader #rpf #political rpf #kennedy family #ethel kennedy #rfk x you #rfk x reader #rfkblogger #rfk jr is weird #kennedy fanfiction #x reader #smut #kennedy smut

52 notes · View notes