#anyway sardines are delicious

[renee-mariposa]

Well, I just discovered canned, smoked sardines

Why the hell did no one tell me I could stockpile delicious, shelf-stable fish in my house anytime?????

[blindmagdalena]

The Drug In Me Is You

18+ 3.2k vampire!homelander x supe f!reader. dacryphilia, noncon, p-in-v, blood drinking, possessive homelander, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac, cunnilingus, fingering, kidnapping, reader is held captive, gaslighting, abuse. dead dove!

Ever since Homelander got his cold dead hands on you, you've been the answer to his every prayer. You exist solely for him, kept safe in his home, delicious to the point where he refuses any blood that isn't yours. He isn't conscious of the extent he's grown to rely on you until the day he comes home to find you gone.

written for Monsterlander Mania! thank you @staarboyyy for the incredible vamplander gif. 🖤

There are few things that Homelander despises more in this world than summer. While the heat doesn’t bother him even beneath the thick layers of his suit, the rest of the world isn’t so lucky.

The meet and greets are by far the worst; a crowded collection of sweaty bodies piling in against one another like directed cattle, stewing in their own filth just long enough to reek of their own humanity by the time they’re touching him with clammy hands.

He’s never more grateful for his suit–especially his gloves–than during these occasions.

On top of that, these sardine can buildings become an echoing cacophony of juicy, throbbing hearts, every single one of them pounding in eager anticipation. Indoor events are better for blocking out the sun, but worse for every other aspect when it comes to his senses.

By the end of the day, his skull is throbbing and his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He needs quiet. He needs home. He needs to eat.

It’s dark by the time he lands on his balcony, the hour late. While he does prefer flying at night, he doesn’t like coming home so late. He tugs off his glove to use the thumbpad, which unlocks his automatic door. Stepping inside, he then hits a switch that triggers his blackout blinds to close behind him alongside the door.

“What a fucking day,” he grouses, making his way to the kitchen. “Twelve hours of this shit. I hate summer,” he says, tossing both of his gloves onto the kitchen counter. He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and a dark, thick green slurry in a tall lidded cup. It’s packed full of everything he both needs and likes, but perhaps most important is the iron content.

He goes through a fair amount of that.

“But I’m glad I’m home,” he says, carrying both beverages to his bedroom. “Because it looks like someone didn’t drink their shake.”

Homelander stops dead in his tracks, staring blankly at his empty bed. Standing perfectly still, he listens for the familiar cadence of your breath. The beat of your heart. Anything to tell him where the fuck you are. When he hears nothing, he drops the drinks unceremoniously to the floor and spins on his heel, instantly tearing through the penthouse.

He doesn’t smell blood or death, but the thought of you dead seizes him anyways, hurling him instantly into a panic. He scans through every wall and ceiling, but you’re not here. He calls your name, shouting it down each hall, but he’s met only with the reverberations of his own distraught voice.

At the front door, Homelander moves to input the code to open it, but halts abruptly. The panel is green. It hasn’t locked. Pulling it open, a thin piece of plastic falls away from the mechanism. It had been blocking the lock from securing.

Wednesday is grocery day, he recalls distantly. A staff member came to restock the fridge. They must have had the door propped open, and you…

Left. 

You left.

Homelander rips the door open, nearly yanking it off the hinges, and storms down the hall, fangs bared. You must have waited until it was late and the guard presence was scarce, otherwise someone would have reported you. You can’t have gone far.

When Vought realized that the continued development of Homelander’s powers came with a particular quirk that necessitated the consumption of human blood, they began the process of ensuring he always had a steady supply to keep him from eating his adoring fans. He never really cared about where the blood came from until he tasted yours.

Yours was special. It did something no one else’s ever had; it made him feel alive. He could taste the world in ways he never could before, and if he drank enough, he swore he could feel his heart start to beat. None of the scientists knew why. It didn’t matter to him. From that point on, he wasn’t interested in drinking from anyone other than you.

That was when he decided to keep you close at hand. Cut out the middleman.

You belong to him, and you have for months. He’s taken the utmost care of you, ensuring that you could have everything you need within the confines of his penthouse. The finest foods, every form of entertainment one could dream of, exquisite service at your fingertips and most compellingly of all, the love and adoration of the world’s greatest hero.  

So why the fuck would you leave?

Homelander rips through the tower. He’s furious, wounded and hungry. Those few security guards smart enough to get out of his way evade his rampage while a couple of unlucky ones wind up with their own personal craters in various walls.

He can smell the intoxicating allure of you trailing a path through the halls, but the combination of his hunger and his rage makes following it disorienting. He’s in no condition to hunt–he’s become sickeningly complacent in your time together, more reliant on you than he ever would have admitted freely. He’s grown to love the wait, letting himself feel his hunger so that you taste all the sweeter on his tongue.

Now the churn of it in his gut burns like fire.

Nevertheless, he is relentless, and within minutes he finds you in the garden just outside the tower, locked in by looming steel gates. You aren’t even properly dressed, garbed only in the thin loungewear he keeps you in, barefoot and combing your fingers through a tall hedge full of flowers just beginning to wither, their pink petals curled and browning.

You don’t even notice him until he’s upon you, snatching your wrist and whirling you around so sharply, the hedge behind you drops its wilting petals in a flurry. He must be a fearsome sight if your expression is anything to go by, your eyes wide and panicstricken.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hisses through his teeth, fangs fully protracted. You take a breath to speak, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He jostles you by your shoulders to cut you off, fingers biting into your arms.  “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was?”

Your pulse is racing. He can hear it, feel it in your wrist beneath his thumb. The sound of it is nearly enough to throw him to the ground, to shred the thin veneer of humanity he wears and give in to the bloodlust. His thumbnail tilts ever so slightly, biting a crescent mark into the supple flesh of your wrist. Never have you felt more tender in his hands. Never has he come so close to tearing you apart.

One slip, and you would be spilling red all over his tongue. 

“I just–” you begin, but he pulls you sharply up into his arms, seething so furiously that he can’t stand to hear you speak. He’s too far gone. Too fucking hungry.

“We’ll talk at home,” he grits out, and with a sonic boom that rips the remaining blossoms from the hedge in a flurry, he launches into the sky, purposefully flying too fast to allow for conversation. He holds you to his chest as tightly as he dares, landing back on his balcony with a thud. He uses the thumbpad and damn near tears the door off the hinges pulling it open. 

Homelander doesn’t have time to waste. You bounce a few times with the way he drops you onto the bed. Glancing up, he catches sight of himself in the myriad of mirrors. No wonder you looked at him the way you did. He looks crazed, lips parted around his fangs, his usual bright blue eyes shining pure crimson.  

It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything will be fine after this.

You scramble up the bed, moving backwards on your hands, but he catches you by the ankle and yanks you back down it, climbing on top of you with a frustrated noise that fades off into a sigh. “Y’see what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and frayed. You yelp when he rips your shirt clean apart, exposing your top half completely.  Your skin is adorned beautifully with the history of your night.

You bruise easily for a supe. Your blood just loves to rush to the surface for him, vessels full and bursting under his grip. The memory of inflicting these marks is so intoxicating that even in his frenzy he can’t help but lean down and drag his tongue over one of the bruises that mottle the pretty skin of your chest. Under his tongue, you feel like ripe fruit yearning to be bitten into.

“Please, Homelander, stop,” you plead prettily. He can hear your tears in the tremble of your voice, practically taste the salt in the air.

Good, he thinks viciously. Cry. Regret. Never do this to me again.

“Played a dangerous game tonight, sweetheart,” he tells you, that pet name dripping with affection and venom in equal measure. He forces your legs apart and settles between them, tearing what little clothing remains on your body like paper and tossing it aside. He presses his palms down against your thighs, and the heat of you compared to the chill of his fingers nearly burns. He pushes your legs up and apart, soaking in the sweet smell of your cunt.

Sex and feeding have always gone hand in hand for Homelander. Vought tried for years to satiate him with plastic blood bags and artificial alternatives, but it never fed him the way a meal he could fuck does. Still, all of them paled in comparison to you. Your inner thighs are a mixture of both new and faded punctures that dot your body in matching pairs, scars that he hopes never fade. They mark you as his.

Neither of you will ever settle for another ever again. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, please–please let me explain,” you weep, trying to squirm out of his grasp. With a predatory growl he yanks you back into place, unwilling to listen.

The hunger is driving him to madness. He can feel your pulse like it’s his own, the sound of it thundering in his ears until it threatens to split his skull in half. His nails bite into your skin while he leans in, deaf to your begging as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth wide, sinking his fangs into the soft, succulent meat of your inner thigh.

Your blood spills into his mouth like rich ambrosia. He moans loudly, losing himself to the taste and the heat. Your blood is transcendent, going beyond nourishment. Your pulse reminds his heart to beat. The more he drinks, the more the warmth of you fills his frigid body, thawing out his sanity alongside it. Your heat courses steadily through him, the fervor of it vanishing that nauseating pound from his skull until the only throb he’s left with is the one between his legs.

He sucks in a wet breath when he breaks away from you, panting his delirious pleasure. There’s nothing in this world than the high that comes after being satiated from a frenzy. It’s like he’s floating, his tongue and throat tingling with your sweet nectar.

He isn’t the only one tingling. He can smell the heady musk of your arousal. Your fearful tears are no match for the effect his bite has on your body, how his saliva mingles with your blood and makes you ache for him.

Without his hunger deafening him to the world, he can focus again. He takes a moment to lap at where he’s bitten you, cleaning up the blood that dripped from the wounds. He trails his blood-warmed tongue inward, far from placated. 

He pins your thighs down flush to the bed and nestles into the sweet core of you, plunging his tongue eagerly into your cunt. Your body jolts, but he holds you steady, eagerly swirling his tongue, collecting the taste of you to drink down. He sucks hungrily at your clit, pulling off of it with wet little pops, kissing and licking and sucking until you’re writhing beneath him for all the right reasons.

Devouring you like this is working him back up into a different kind of frenzy. He slips one finger into you, then two, mouthing your clit while he fucks you with his fingers, coaxing more and more from you. Your walls feel so fucking soft and velvety around his fingers, and his need to feel you quivering around his cock is rapidly outpacing his hunger for the taste of your cunt. With one last deep plunge of his tongue, he lifts himself over you, reaching down to hurriedly unclasp his belt, staring down at you with lust glazed eyes.

You’re a mess. Your whole body is flushed with heat, and you’ve barely stopped moaning since he bit you. He’s heard the effects of his bite described like a fever, a delirious experience that robs you of your senses and leaves you desperate for more, for anything of him. Even so, you haven’t stopped crying. It makes you look sweet. Vulnerable. Fucking delicious.

“Mmm, you’re pretty when you cry, baby,” he says, running his tongue along his teeth, over the sharp juts of his fangs. He gets his cock free and adjusts himself between your legs, laying over you. “This your way of saying sorry? Because it’s working,” he tells you, bracing one hand on the bed next to you while he uses the other to hold the base of his cock, dragging the head of it up and down through the wet mess of your pretty pussy lips. “Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart. Be good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, nuzzling at your throat.

Opening his mouth, Homelander bites into your neck at the same time he thrusts forward, letting out a muffled, ragged moan as he sinks into you on both fronts, shuddering with how fucking good it feels, tight and wet and hot as sin. Between that and the fresh rush of your blood down his throat, he ascends to a state of goddamn euphoria.

You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a moan. He drinks you up, savors the sound of you as much as he does the taste. He snaps his hips, wastes no time fucking you deep, holding you still with the lock of his jaw while he pounds you into the mattress.

“Oh, ffffuck,” he groans, lips bloodied. He laps at the blood on your neck, the sound of it as wet as his cock hammering your cunt with the relentlessness of a machine, utterly inhuman in the way he takes you. “So good to me, aren’t you? Feeding me, taking me. Mmm, fuck, m’close,” he says, nuzzling at your skin, enamored with the warmth of you.

With the ravenous insanity of his bloodlust fading, his thrusts become less brutal. He hikes your thigh over his hip and holds it there, sliding into a rhythm that’s something closer to making love. Your cunt quivers all around him, and by the noises you’re making he knows you’re electrified, out of your mind with the haze of pleasure that his bite induces. “M’gonna take care of you, too. You know that, don’t you? Yeah, y’do, and you won’t ever fucking leave me again. Don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he pants, mouthing at the shell of your ear.

It’s a lie. He knows what he would do. He would punish any world that dared take you from him. The thought alone would be enough to enrage him all over were he not so deeply soothed by your iron on his tongue and your soft body giving into him. If he had breath to give, it would be stolen by the way you seize up against him, orgasm taking hold of you like a possession, capturing your voice and rolling your eyes heavenward.

This is love. This undying hunger, this obsessive compulsion to keep you close. He craves you not just for the ambrosial taste of your blood, but for your soft lips against his and the timbre of your voice. He brought you into his life to satiate his bloodlust, but never could he have fathomed the greater emptiness that you would fill. Knowing you were here waiting for him has made him understand for the first time in his life what it means to come home.

He’ll ruin you before he loses you.

Homelander comes with a low, wrecked moan, kissing you fervently as he stops to empty himself into you as deeply as possible, forehead pressed to yours.

You’re panting, letting out pitchy little wisps of sound with every breath. He gently kisses them from your lips, hushing you. “S’alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, licking the salt of your tears from his lips. He cups the other side of your face and strokes it with his thumb. You’re shaking all over. He slips an arm around you to draw you close, to comfort you as you come down from your high. “Ssshhhh. Everything’s alright. M’right here, and I love you.”

That wrings a tight little sob out of you. He smiles, dazed on his own lingering ecstasy. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you,” he assures you, kissing your forehead. “Can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been, wandering alone in the dark like that,” he says, stroking your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Just happy I found you before anything happened to you.”

What if someone else had found you like that? Confused and vulnerable. He would have found you eventually, but had anyone been unlucky enough to lay their hands on you before then, they wouldn’t have hands for much longer. He kisses you again, firmer, possessive. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

Gingerly, he slips from the wet heat of your body and adjusts himself, getting you both situated under the covers. He spends a while soothing you, rubbing your back while you lay in his arms, kissing the top of your head every so often.

“You alright?” He asks eventually. You aren’t shaking anymore, but you haven’t said a word. It makes him a touch… anxious.

“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not very convincing, but he wants to believe it enough that he accepts the answer anyways.

“Good,” he purrs, slipping his hand over the back of your neck. His fingertips brush your menagerie of scars, each bite a reminder of how thoroughly you have allowed him to love you. “That’s my good girl. I love you,” he says with a smile, tipping your head back to kiss your lips.

He waits.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I love you, too,” you finally respond.

His smile broadens. He draws you closer to him, listening to the lively thrum of your body. You are the warmth in his own veins, the beat of his heart.  This, too, is love. Kissed lips, bitten limbs, hungering teeth and bodies intertwined. It’s sweeter than anything he has ever known. The need in him is a monstrous thing, he knows. He hadn’t known how monstrous it was until he thought–even for a moment–that he’d lost you.

It won’t happen again.

[ohmtoff]

Shots, shots, shots (Part 1)

Nick Sturniolo x Masc!OC

Summary: Nick is most definitely not having fun at a frat party Madi dragged him to, but this boy who’s staring at him hungrily may help him to have a good time (or: a very cliche and very self-indulgent fic of Nick getting it on with a frat bro)

WC: 4.8k

Contains: college!AU, frat bro!oc, drinking games, making out

Disclaimer: no smut yet, smut is in the next part. not an american, idk anything ab frat culture and the american college system in general, so there’s gna be some inaccuracies. this is just based on the frat fics ive read and my own college experiences.

a/n: was supposed to be a one-shot but i suddenly wrote 10k words💀 although i know nothing ab frat culture, how my american friends describe it is basically like any faculty organization in an indonesian uni lmao so hope my knowledge of how those orgs work help this a slight bit. anyways hope you enjoyyy <333

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Nick is most definitely not having fun.

He frowns as he feels the bitter burn of his fifth (or was it sixth?) shot going down, tipping his head back to get it to go down easily, well and truly smashed at this point. Madi would be proud. Speaking of… he hasn’t seen his best friend since they arrived at the party, the girl pestering him for hours earlier in the day to come party with her. Madi is tired of listening about The Breakup, and to be honest, Nick is too, but he didn’t agree to come with Madi only to have his supposedly best friend ditch him at the door, leaving him alone at a frat party where he knows absolutely no one. Especially not just so she can run off and suck face with some junior.

Nick spies his best friend making out with a boy he doesn’t know, back to him through the haze of the crowd, barely visible in the shitty purple LED lighting, especially with everyone packed into the house like sardines, the place filled to over capacity so that no one can move without being pressed up against someone or another. Well, unless they are sticking to the wall like Nick currently is. And he’s about to go give his friend a piece of his goddamn mind when he hears the voice beside him, his irritation still visible on his face as he turns to look.

“Hey.” The boy is staring at him with an intensity that is disarming, dark eyes set in an intense unwavering gaze as he looks, just enough light to make out the half-smile on the other boy’s face, only one corner of his mouth upturned slightly. The boy’s hair is half in his face, looking damp and mussed like he’s just stepped out of the shower. And Nick trails his gaze downwards, appreciating the other boy’s outfit, a black t-shirt with some obscure band logo, sleeves cut-off hastily, clearly homemade, the edges ragged, showing off the nice curves of the boy’s shoulders, the definition of his upper arms from hitting the gym obvious. All thrown over a pair of oversized black jeans.

The other boy is looking at him like he wants him, and Nick is too far gone to stop the delicious pit of arousal churning in his stomach, the euphoria going straight to his head, making him dizzy with desire. He’s not the type Nick usually goes for, in fact, the boy is the exact opposite of his ex, but that doesn’t stop his body from screaming fuck me now. “I haven’t seen you around before. Transfer or something?”

The question makes Nick give out a little snort of laughter. “No, not at all. Just not my scene.”

“Oh?” The boy raises an eyebrow questioningly, his tone clearly teasing as he slides in closer to avoid another boy trying to make his way past the two of them squeezed into the corner. Nick inhales sharply as the boy moves in closer, trapping him, his back pressed up against the wall with no room to go back further, the other boy bringing his arms up to brace against the wall, forming a makeshift barrier around Nick, casually caging him in. As he does, the smell of beer hits his nose, a smell he normally despises, but it’s mixing with something the boy is wearing underneath, something sweet and woody, and the combination is fucking intoxicating. “And what would be your scene then?”

He ignores the question, not wanting to say that maybe his scene is in his room, pitifully stuffing himself with fast food and crying into Madi’s shoulder about his ex months after the breakup, choosing instead to shift the topic, mumbling.  “You smell like shitty ass beer.”

“Shit, sorry.” The boy relaxes his arms, his face softening into a sheepish apologetic look that Nick finds almost endearing, backing up a step so that he’s not so deep into Nick’s personal space, and Nick takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartrate. “Got doused with beer earlier when they were spraying it into the crowd.”

“Seems like a waste of alcohol if you ask me.” The unexpected response makes the other boy’s eyes go wide, a moment of silence before he bursts out into raucous laughter.

“Yeah, shit, it probably is.” Nick hates that his breath hitches automatically as the other boy runs his hand through his black hair, shaking his head in apparent exasperation, looking unfortunately all too attractive in the process. “Imagine how many people could be more drunk than they already are if they hadn’t wasted all that beer.” The boy shoots him a grin, which he finds himself returning, or at least he hopes he is.

“So how did you get here?”

“My best friend, Madi. She dragged me here.” Nick admits, a slight eye-roll accompanying the statement. “Otherwise there’s no way I would come to a party in a dump like this. Complete shithole. Floor is disgusting, and the whole place looks like it’s going to collapse in on itself if they throw another couple of parties.” He finds himself having to yell to be heard, the music playing far too loud, the bass turned up so that he can quite literally feel the floorboards vibrating underneath his feet.

To Nick’s surprise and appreciation, the other boy appears to take an interest in listening to him, craning in closer and cocking his head to the side to hear better. His ex was an asshole that wouldn’t bother to make sure he was comfortable at parties, even after knowing Nick didn’t love large crowds, preferring to hang out with small groups of people instead. Plus points.  “Oh, I know Madi, met her at a general ed class last semester. She’s also friends with one of the frat bros here, I think. Nate. Anyways, enough about your friend. I haven’t even gotten your name yet.”

“It’s Nick.”

“Nick.” The other boy repeats it, long and drawn out as he rolls the sound around in his mouth, and the thought of the other boy saying his name as encouragement flashes in his head, mentally kicking himself for even thinking about blowing this complete stranger already within ten minutes of meeting. It’s the alcohol talking, definitely the alcohol. He desperately tries to repeat it to himself and believe it as he watches the other boy bite his lower lip in thought. Fuck. Yeah, so maybe it isn’t the alcohol making him want this boy. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t been fucked since The Breakup. Which was 3 months ago. Nick scowls. Fuck Madi for telling him he needs to get laid, and double fuck Madi for being right.

“And yours?”

“Evan. My name’s Evan.” The name sounds familiar, but Nick can’t quite place it, putting aside the feeling for now, instead choosing to concentrate on his plan of perhaps getting laid tonight. Which shouldn’t be hard considering the way Evan is looking at him right now. Like he wants to ravish Nick. With maybe a touch of possessiveness. Nick doesn’t mind the possessiveness, as long as they don’t go overboard. Possessive makes for a good fuck.

He gives in.

I’m here already, might as well have a good time.

He turns on the flirtiest smile he has, his lips curling into a natural irresistible pout as he keeps talking, his hand coming up to brush Evan’s arm, his fingertips lightly grazing the other boy’s bicep. Very obvious, very forward. No one would ever accuse Nick of being subtle, especially when it comes to getting what or who he wants. “Well, Evan, since this does seem to be your scene and not mine, what would you say to being responsible for me having a fun time tonight?” The words have the desired effect, Nick tracing the tightening of the other boy’s jaw with his eyes, pleased at the barely veiled show of restraint.

Nick feels a shiver of anticipation run up his spine as Evan leans forwards, tilting his head downwards as he speaks, the other boy’s hot breath against his earlobe, pressed in so close that Nick can feel the ghost of a touch from Evan’s lips. He isn’t able to prevent the gasp from escaping when he feels the other boy’s tongue, teeth giving him a quick nip. “Well, tonight’s your lucky night, baby. I am at your service. For anything you want.”

The words make Nick bristle, bringing both palms up to push at the other boy’s chest, startling Evan into stepping back off-balanced. “I don’t like being called baby.” He mutters. “Don’t do that.” His ex had called him baby, as an insult, somehow managing to insinuate every time that Nick was too demanding, too high maintenance, turning the word into a mocking reprimand each time. “My ex used to use that.” He pauses a beat. “Not in a good way.”

“Oh, shit.” Evan frowns, his eyebrows drawn together giving almost a menacing look, and Nick feels a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of Evan losing interest. Maybe I came off too strong. “Your ex sounds like an asshole.” He lets out the breath he doesn’t even realize he was holding, a ripple of relief running through him. “And all I meant…” Nick’s breath catches as the other boy slides his hand underneath his chin, tilting it upwards as he speaks. “…is that you look pretty. Delicate. Like someone who deserves to get everything they want.”

Everything they want.

The words make Nick flush, the heat crawling up the base of his neck, stinging his cheeks. I want you. And his first instinct is to throw all caution to the wind and regret his decisions tomorrow morning after the alcohol has worn off, when there isn’t a buzz in his veins making him want to throw himself at this boy. And he desperately wants it to be just a physical thing, after all, he doesn’t really know this guy. He could turn out to be some weirdo psychopath for all he knows, but damn it if it doesn’t make him feel good that this boy thinks he deserves everything. But before he can open his mouth and resign himself to his fate, a hand appears on Evan’s shoulder, accompanied by the loud voice of another boy.

“Hey, bro.” The hand on Evan’s shoulder becomes an arm pulling the taller boy into a half-headlock of sorts. “Not like you to hide away in the corner for so long. Don’t you miss being the life of our party?” The boy turns slightly, catching a glimpse of him, and Nick becomes acutely aware that he’s probably gaping. “Oh, I see now.” The boy gives him a salacious and knowing wink, casting a sidelong glance at Evan. “You must be the reason our leader here is hiding instead of greeting the guests.”

Leader?

The new boy smiles at him, bringing his free hand up in a little wave of acknowledgment. “I’m Nate, by the way.” Nate squints, giving him a careful once-over, and Nick feels like squirming, getting the distinct feeling that he is being sized up though he doesn’t know for what. “You’re Nick, aren’t you?” Nate grins excitedly at the realization. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Madi.”

Nick furrows his brows thinking how does he know Madi and why Madi’s talking about him, getting more lost within the conversation by the second. “Madi said he’d be your type, and it looks like he was right. Fuck.” Nate lets out a string of profanity, “Fuck me, Evan. That means I owe her fifty bucks. So really, fuck you.” Nate narrows his eyes at Evan, who isn’t even trying to hide his mirth, chortling at his friend’s distressed expression. “Unless, you two dickwads set me up.”

Evan shakes his head. “No, man, I didn’t even know who he was until he gave me his name.”

“Fuck.” Nate lets out one last swear in a drawn out sigh, smiling fondly at Evan. “Well, I hate to interrupt the overwhelming sexual tension between you two, but I do think our new president should give a speech at our first party of the year.”

“President?” Nick echoes the word without meaning to, the sound of loud buzzing in his ears drowning out the sound of everything else around them, noting the shit-eating grin on Evan’s face that is getting wider by the minute.

“Yeah, president of Chi Alpha Omega. You know, the ones hosting this party right now.”

Nick can feel the color draining from his face, accompanied by some wooziness in his head. Madi had told him about the president of ΧΑΩ before, about how he “got around” quite frequently, always with someone new every other weekend. And apparently in no short supply of people who want to casually hook-up with him. In short, a player through and through. And Nick can’t tell whether he’s disappointed that Evan is probably not interested in any type of relationship or just excited that the boy is likely a really good fuck. Or both.

But none of that really even matters because he had literally called Evan’s house a shithole.

Fuck.

Evan winks at him before turning to Nate. “Yeah, I can definitely say a few words. And by the way, Nick here thinks we should probably stop spraying beer into the crowd to hype up the party.” He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the overly serious and solemn expression on Evan’s face as he says that. “Apparently we’ve been wasting alcohol when we could be using it to get everyone even more drunk.” Nick wants to sink into the floor at the other boy’s next words, hoping desperately that the ground can swallow him up.

“And he’s also made me aware of the fact that apparently, we live in a shithole.”

Nate’s eyes go wide. Nick wants to kill himself.

“Well, not exactly a lie.” Nate laughs, clearly bemused by his worried expression. “We’ve been trying to get administration to move us out of this shithole for ages. They just won’t do it. So we figure if we throw a few extra ragers this year, and this dumpster fire of a house finally breaks, maybe they’ll consider letting us have a different building for the frat house.”

“Wait, so…” Nick says the words slowly, his head slow to catch up, not quite believing what he’s hearing. “…you all actually want to break this house. Like that’s your actual plan, and I’m not stuck in some weird-ass twilight zone time warp imagining this.”

“Correct.” Evan nods.

“You all are fucking crazy.”

“Correct.”

“Sooo, about that speech Evan?” Nate asks, stealing another glance at Nick. “Any time soon? Or am I assuming that you’re gonna be busy for the next hour or so?”

The implication makes him half-cringe on the inside. Is it that obvious?

“Yeah, of course, now is fine.” And then Nick feels the other boy’s hand around his, Evan’s fingers settling to interlock with his naturally as if they belong there, warm and inviting. A little overly warm, probably the alcohol. But it feels nice, gives him the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest for the first time in a long time. “You’re coming with me, baby.” Nick wants to protest the nickname, but he isn’t given the opportunity to, finding himself being dragged along by the taller boy, weaving through the crowd of people deftly, trying to keep close to the other boy’s back, his free hand reaching out to grab the untucked edge of Evan’s t-shirt. The other boy heads to the kitchen, passing by the crowd that is busy dancing, flirting, and Nick reminds himself to yell at Madi tomorrow, spotting his best friend out of the corner of his eye still attached to the face of a guy.

The kitchen is slightly less crowded, the only people slipping in and out to grab more beer or shots, the entire kitchen counter covered with half empty alcohol—rum, vodka, gin, whiskey. God, how much booze do they have?  Evan doesn’t let go of his hand as he opens the fridge, rummaging around before finally coming up with another handle of vodka. The taller boy just shakes his head as Nate gives him a questioning look. And then Nick follows as he is dragged along again, making their way back to the living room, heading straight towards the epicenter of all the noise in the house. Evan finally lets go of his hand, and Nick feels a twinge of concern as he watches the other boy climb up onto the ping pong table, ignoring the cry of protests from the people playing beer pong. No way he’s sober enough for this.  Somehow Evan’s voice is louder than the music, his voice floating above the noise.

“Hey, we having fun tonight?” The cheers and hoots rise up from the crowd, Evan clearly reveling in the attention, waving his arms to tell everyone to pump up the noise, and they do. After a minute or so of cheering, the other boy puts his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, quieting the crowd.

“Here’s to the first party of many this year for Chi Alpha Omega. As the president for this year, hope to see all of you underclassmen at rush in the spring.” Evan grins, and Nick hates that the other boy is so charismatic, everyone in the room turning to hang on to his every word. “And to kick off a good night, how about yours truly start off a round of body shots?” The crowd hoots and hollers. “First up, my newest friend, Nick.” He feels himself outright blushing this time, Evan looking downwards to wink at him, some of the people in the front of the crowd turning to stare.

He startles as Evan jumps down from the ping pong table, landing unevenly, grabbing on to his shoulder for balance before scooting back on to the table to take a seat, his legs hanging off the edge. “How about it, baby?”

And he’s about to object, but his mind goes completely blank as Evan crosses his arms over his chest, gripping the hem of his t-shirt in order to pull it up over his head, the other boy’s arm muscles tightening. The skin above Evan’s jeans comes into view first, the white band of the other boy’s Calvin Klein boxers just peeking out from the top, a sharp contrast from the smooth tan of Evan’s skin on top and the black of his jeans on the bottom. Nick can see a glimpse of the other boy’s hip bones, sharp and defined, and his gaze trails further upward to his belly button, abs slightly visible as Evan moves, and all the way up to the other boy’s chest.

But it’s the tattoo that makes Nick stop breathing.

It’s intricate, clearly well done and by a tattoo artist that cares about how the finished product looks, a revolver with its barrel pointing downwards, the tip disappearing under the white of the other boy’s boxers. And Nick doesn’t think he’s ever had a specific thing for guns. But fuck. Because he wants to think that he’s better than this, better than having the only thought running through his head being it’s pointing to his cock. And the overwhelming urge to find out just exactly how true it is.

“You’re up, baby.” The words make Nick snap his glance upwards, tearing his gaze away from the ink on the other boy’s skin, the embarrassment flitting through him as he realizes how long he had been staring, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Evan, who is grinning at him, definitely amused. He’s already poured the shot, messily spilling at least two shot’s worth of vodka on the ping pong table, and Nick experiences a stroke of utter insanity, the words coming out before he can stop them.

“You should probably clean that up.”

“Hmm, maybe later.”

“It’s going to get sticky.”

“Maybe I like sticky.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that the whole scene is probably bizarre as fuck, talking about cleaning while the whole room is waiting for him to take a shot off a boy he doesn’t even know. But Nick feels as if he’s in a haze, entirely blocking out the rest of the room as Evan crooks a finger at him, motioning for him to get closer, the other boy’s legs parting on the table, stretching apart to give him room to fit in between, and Nick is uncomfortably aware of Evan’s jeans, the material stretching over the other’s boy’s thighs, even tighter now that Evan is sitting.

“Come.”

He comes.

The shiver of arousal runs through him as he gets closer, coming up to the edge of the table, Evan winking at him as he squeezes Nick’s sides slightly with his thighs, making the feeling curl deliciously in his groin. And the other boy lies down slowly, not breaking eye contact with Nick as he does, and god help him, because it only makes the outline of the other boy’s abs deepen. Fuck. The shot glass is placed right over Evan’s belly button, wobbling as the other boy breathes in and out, and Nick winces as Evan starts off a chant of encouragement.

“Drink, drink, drink.”

Fuck it, it’s just one shot.

He doesn’t try to overthink it, leaning down with his head to clumsily grasp the shot glass with his mouth, intending on throwing his head back and downing the vodka all at once. He tells himself it doesn’t mean anything as he braces his palms against the other boy’s thighs, enjoying the feeling of muscle underneath his hands. But he’s not used to the motion, not able to use his hands, and he ends up spilling half of it, feeling Evan’s thighs tense around his waist as the cold liquid hits the other boy’s bare skin, some of the vodka settling into the crevices of Evan’s abs, already starting to slide off his body.

Nick doesn’t know why he does it.

But the next instant, his tongue is on Evan’s skin, feeling the other boy tense as he does it, licking the rest of the vodka off of the other boy, the feeling of burning still in the back of his throat from the half he does drink, dipping his tongue in to run along the grooves of Evan’s abs, the slight saltiness of the other boy’s sweat mixing with the taste of alcohol. And he’s pressing half-kisses, half sloppy licks against the other boy’s skin, the tips of his fingers reaching upwards from where they’re resting against Evan’s thighs to brush against the boy’s sharp hipbones, an inch or so above his jeans.

As he dips his tongue into his belly button, Evan bucks his hips upwards, the wanting movement making the arousal go straight to his cock. And he tells himself it’s because he’s trying to clean every last bit of vodka off of Evan’s body, but it isn’t the alcohol giving him a high as he runs the tip of his tongue slowly down the barrel of the gun tattoo that Evan has, the thought of going further and further down until he reaches the other boy’s cock making him hot and dizzy. The thought of Evan holding his head down and tugging on his hair as he gives the other boy a blowjob. Further, further. Evan squirms as he licks his way downwards over the exposed skin, and Nick wonders if it tickles, his nose already nudging the edge of the other boy’s boxers.

A bad fucking idea.

And he’s just about to pull away, the feeling of regret mixed with horror hitting him as he surfaces from his reckless decision, half-aware that they’re still in a very public room for the first time since Evan had told him Come, when he feels it. Evan half-hard against his palm, his hand accidentally brushing too close to the other boy’s inner thighs as he tries to move back, and before he can process that fact, everything around him moves.

Nick yelps as he feels Evan’s hands on the back of his thighs, dangerously close to his ass, and he’s suddenly being lifted up into the air, his legs coming up to wrap themselves around the other boy’s waist, his hands grabbing at Evan’s shoulders to balance himself. He vaguely hears the sound of catcalls coming from the crowd, his head falling forward, his face buried into the crook of the other boy’s neck, the smell of beer in Evan’s hair and that smell of wood and vanilla. A few quick strides, and Nick finds his back up against the wall for the second time tonight, Evan’s hips pressed into him, grinding him up against the wall as he plants kisses against Nick’s neck.

The other boy is definitely completely hard now, the feeling against his thigh each time Evan moves his hips making the arousal tighten in Nick’s groin. And it’s a fleeting thought, that he is grateful for wearing a white tank top, giving Evan free access, the other boy’s tongue darting out to run itself along the top of Nick’s collarbones, sucking likely-to-be-hickeys into his skin hungrily.

His fingers curl themselves into the other boy’s hair for purchase, needing something to grab onto as he writhes in Evan’s embrace, his eyes closed, his breath coming out ragged. An unbidden moan comes forth as he feels Evan sneak his hands underneath his tank top, the other boy’s fingers splayed against the skin at his waist, his thumbs digging into the spot just above his hipbones. Evan’s hands feel hot against his skin, burning into him more than he thought possible, and Nick’s eyes flutter open only to remember that everyone is still there, that they’re not alone.

“W-wait,” The words come out weakly in between little pants and far too soft for Evan to hear anyway, and Nick wonders if the idea of the other boy fucking him against the wall in front of a crowd of people should turn him on as much as it does. Fuck.

“Get a fucking room!”

The loud jeer seems to snap Evan out of it, the other boy stopping his attack against Nick’s neck long enough for him to catch his breath. Most of the room has gone back to whatever they were doing before, and it’s nearly impossible to pick out whoever had yelled it. “Don’t mind if I do.” Evan grins at him, not waiting for a proper response. “Hold on.” Nick just manages to get his arms around Evan’s shoulders before the other boy starts moving, hoisting him up slightly to get a better grip on the underside of his thighs, Evan’s chin nestled into his shoulder, the other boy’s breathing hot on his neck.

The sounds of the party slowly start to fade away as they ascend the stairs to the second floor, the stairway narrow and not lit, and Nick winces as he is jostled against the wall a few times on their way up, Evan’s steps not as steady he would have hoped. All he can hear now is the other boy’s breathing, slow and deep, the sound comforting, and Nick breathes in and out to match the other boy’s. I wonder if Madi was right, and I’m his type.  And he’s sure that he’s Evan’s type physically, the whole display downstairs has convinced him of that, but for the first (okay, maybe second or third) time tonight, he has the niggling suspicion that he might like it if he is Evan’s type for more, the way the other boy puts him at ease so naturally and effortlessly perhaps giving him more butterflies than he’d care to admit.

His mind unwillingly flashes him scenes on what it would be like dating Evan. Would he like his eggs scrambled or poached? What shows would they binge together? Would Evan show him off to his frat brothers?

Evan licks a stripe behind his ear where he’s most sensitive. Ah, fuck it. Who cares about dating? Nick knows he’s going to get fucked till he forgets his own name tonight.  

tags: @thenickgirl @mybelovednick @sukiipjs

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober 13

Kink: Handcuffs

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, masturbation (f and m descriptions), authority/power kink, dubcon (a little), alcohol consumption, semi-public sex, handcuffs, dirty talk, brattiness (a hint), pet names (sugar/good girl/sweetheart)

Not beta read

Summary: After stumbling out of a bar drunk, you get picked up by the local deputy and make his night a little more interesting.

Word count: 1.1k

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome!

A/N: I can't seem to write short fics and idk why... Enjoy! - Love Grem x

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Your skirt was hitched over your hips as you worked your fingers under the cotton of your panties. Not that there was much skirt to hitch anyway, but the cool air that kissed your thighs as you circled your clit sent a delicious tingle up your spine.

You shouldn't have argued back with the deputy of Knockemstiff. That was sort of on you. You'd been drunk and stumbling home along one of the main roads. A neighbour must have called it in when you yelled obscenities at some guy who'd wolf-whistled at you when he drove past. When Deputy Sheriff Lee Bodecker had pulled up alongside you, asking if you were alright, you'd told him to fuck off and given him the finger. When he stopped the car and got out, asking you to calm down, you'd bristled and kicked the tyre of his car.

That had earned you a set of handcuffs and a ride in the backseat.

It wouldn't have been so bad if you weren't feeling so horny.

You'd met his eyes in the rear view mirror, you knew he was watching you. So you paid extra special attention when he sucked in a breath when your fingers trailed your thighs, brushing the hem of your skirt.

"So, deputy," you slurred. "Been a busy night?"

Lee swallowed thickly, clearing his throat and trying to focus on the road but his eyes flickered back to your thighs as your delicate fingers began to move a little faster under your panties.

"Wasn't busy till you showed up." He huffed.

"You seem like a man who likes to be kept on his toes." You shrug, spreading your legs a little wider. You see Lee's eyes widen in the rear-view and can't hide your drunken smirk. You huff a quiet gasp as you feel a jolt of electricity pulse in your core. "If you're gonna be Sheriff one day, you gotta get used to it."

Lee nods stiffly, turning down a road you don't recognise. There's no street lights, the beams of the headlights allowing you to see a brief three-feet in front of the bumper. You were off-road on a dirt path, surrounded only by woodland. Trees hugged the car, packed like sardines and fading into darkness.

You didn't quite know where you were. Somewhere on the outskirts. Somewhere quiet. That's all that mattered.

The engine cuts out leaving you in darkness until the click of the overhead light comes on and you see Lee's steely eyes looking back at you.

"You gonna come over here and take these off?" You wiggle your hands at him, the metal of the cuff twinkling in the gleam of the overhead light.

"You're a bad girl," he drawls. "Bad girls stay in handcuffs."

You pout your lip at him but heat flares inside you at his words. His eyes never leave yours as you hear his belt buckle come undone and the unmistakable sound of his fly come down. He sighs softly, stroking his hard cock slowly as he watches you. You don't even realise you've stopped moving your fingers until he speaks, too busy trying to see if you could get a peek of what his cock looked like.

"Don't stop on my account, sugar," He huffs with a smirk, pumping faster. "I wanna see you play with that pretty pussy some more."

You wet your lips, leaning back into the leather seat, pushing your panties down to your ankles and spreading your legs wide. You smirk yourself when you hear him suck in a breath at the sight, dragging your fingers back along your dripping hole again, toying your clit with your gathered slick.

You let your head fall back against the seats, eyes fluttering closed as you rub tight circles over your sensitive bud, tension building quickly like a string being pulled taught. Your heaving for breath, gasping softly, focusing on chasing your orgasm when Lee's drawl fills the car again.

"That's right sugar," He purrs. "Fuck, you look so good spread out like that."

You can hear how furiously he's beating his cock and it only spurs you on and you look back to the mirror again. When you meet his eyes, heat floods your body and you mewl; half-desperate to keep the noise trapped in your throat. You dip your fingers into your silky cunt, making Lee curse again as you moan a little louder.

"Put that other hand to good use," Lee commands through gritted teeth, his cock aching to be inside you as he watches your free hand moves closer to your clit as instructed. You jump when the cold metal of the cuff chain brushes along your hot folds and it leaves you breathless as you pump your fingers and start circling your clit again.

"So you can be a good girl when you want to be." Lee chuckles, letting his lips stay parted as his breathing hitches. The tightening you can feel building is almost ready to snap and you cry out.

"Shit - I'm gonna cum." You whine, your back arching against the seats.

"Cum, sweetheart." Lee pants, watching you with such intensity that your legs begin to shake. "Let me watch you come apart."

Your orgasm strikes you hard, and you curse loudly as your cunt pulse around your fingers, dripping cum onto the leather beneath you. Your legs twitch and your clit throbs as you breathe heavily, looking back at Lee with half-lidded orgasmic bliss.

"Shit, sugar." Lee groans, and you see his eyelids flutter as he cums with a stuttered moan. He slumps back into the driver's seat, trying to catch his breath. The patrol car smells like cum and sweat - and Lee had to make a mental note to grab an air freshener before his next shift.

"I should arrest you for public intoxication," He says, smiling slightly, cleaning himself up and shoving his softening cock back into his slacks. "And public indecency."

"Don't forget vandalization of a police vehicle." You add, huffing a chuckle, making Lee grin devilishly. You're still splayed open shamelessly, not even bothering to cover your still glistening cunt.

"Which time? Kicking a tyre or cumming over my backseat?"

"Whichever one lets me off the hook quicker." You tease meeting his eyes in the rear-view again. Lee shakes his head but you don't miss the way he licks his lips this time.

"You're gonna be trouble. I just know it." He says, turning the key in the ignition. The wooded area is illuminated once more as the patrol car edges out of the clearing.

"You're here to keep me in line, aren't you?" You smirk into the mirror. "I have a feeling I'll be seeing a lot of you, Sheriff."

[raychleadele]

Lately I’ve been really craving greens. Just absolutely slamming salads, putting them in wraps, on my morning egg toast, wilted into my pasta. Mixed greens everywhere. Spinach and arugula my beloveds. Also tried watercress for the first time and found that delightful. Loving my leafy greens. Figured there must be something in them, a vitamin or other nutrient, that my body really needs, because I’ve been going through them like crazy.

Relatedly, I recently paid an in person visit to the grocery store. I usually order for pickup to save on time, but this day I wasn’t able to for some reason. I was buying canned clams to make my late grandpa’s clam chowder. It’s a traditional Christmas/New Year’s season meal for me, I had to have it.

And when I picked up my can of clams, I became entranced by how many different canned fishes there were on the shelves. Sometimes I buy tuna, but I’d never touched most of them. And I know I was shopping hungry and when you shop hungry everything sounds good, but on that day the canned fish sounded really good. I thought “Idk, maybe I could be the kind of person who likes canned sardines.”

Then I snapped out of it and realized how hungry I was, and thought how insane it is for me to crave unfamiliar canned fish when I hardly eat the familiar variety I do buy, and reassured myself I’d get a meal when I got home, and I walked away without ransacking the shelf of canned fish.

But then I did it again at the fish counter at the Asian market a week later. I stood there for a full ten minutes, studying the dozens of whole fish they had that I’d never tried before, thinking maybe this would be the day I’d finally try filleting a fish for the first time, before deciding there weren’t any in my price range that looked fresh enough (I am in the only triple landlocked state of course), and walking away with no fish.

Then I saw that post here about someone who slammed three cans of fish and then learned they have lots of nutrients that help with seasonal depression. And I remembered how I’ve been slamming so many salads. And I thought huh, maybe my body is trying to tell me something about fish.

Then one of my favorite food YouTubers uploaded a video all about how people eat canned fish around the world and I said OKAY! CLEARLY I NEED TO BUY THE FISH!

So when I ordered groceries yesterday to prepare for the coming blizzard, I ordered canned fish. Specifically, I got one can of sardines, one can of anchovies, and one can of smoked oysters.

Today I cracked open the can of sardines for lunch. I taste tested a small piece and it was delicious! So I toasted an English muffin, spread it with some cream cheese, topped it with some thin sliced red onion and my beloved mixed greens, and added some sardines on top. Drizzled the top with some of the sardine oil and had an open faced sandwich. It was messy, because the minute I tried to bite into it all my toppings fell off, but it was delicious.

So anyway, I guess I am the kind of person who enjoys canned sardines now.

[jmdbjk]

SUGA/Agust D, Rosemont, May 5, 2023

I told my family I met someone on the Internet and I’m gonna fly to Chicago by myself and land there at midnight and get from the airport to the hotel … in the middle of the night. And then the next day, I’m going to meet that person in-person at my hotel even though I’ve never seen them or heard their voice. 😳 It’ll be fine. 🤣🤣

I got myself to Chicago and it was uneventful except that I couldn’t figure out which seat was mine on the plane. Ha ha ha ha ha I accidentally sat in “first class” on the first leg of my flight on one of those small jets. This is “first class”… and y'all paid extra for that?

Then on my connecting flight we were packed like sardines on a real jet and I accidentally sat one row behind the one where I was supposed to be sitting. I’m a derp.

The hotel was great but I’ve never heard of a hotel property being shared by two different brands. Granted they’re both owned by the same corporation but still both hotels were housed within the same building. I stayed in the Staybridge Suites and the other half of the hotel was Holiday Inn. “When you get off the elevator go left for Staybridge and right for Holiday Inn.”

Anyway…The facility was brand spanking new and staff was excellent, especially the housekeeping staff, so I highly recommend.

And guess what floor I was on? Yes, 7th floor, room 717.

The hotel was less than a mile from ALLSTATE Arena. It was an easy walk. I could see it from my hotel room window.

Also, this on the property next to the hotel:

Paging BTS, where are you? There's 22 acres for sale just for you on Mannheim Road, Rosemont, Illinois.

I also saw the Daechwita car drive by!

Before we headed over to the arena, we went to a Korean BBQ place. My first experience and it was charcoal barbecue, so there was an actual little fire pit in the middle of our table. We had the usual 5 million side dishes and bulgogi. It was delicious. The Korean owners were very nice and attentive. A group of youngish Korean men came in. They had lanyards on but I couldn’t see what was on them. Could they have been Yoongi's staff?? Maybe! Or just a group of coworkers from nearby…

Truly the absolute best part of the whole trip was meeting this group of crazy people! Y'all are the best and made this whole trip one of the most awesome memories of my life! I am so thankful and I love you guys! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

We got in line close to 5 o’clock at the entrance that was stated on our tickets. There were at least four entrances, each with lines this long that wound around the parking lot and around the building.

(they didn’t know I was jmdbjk 🤣)

The doors opened a few minutes before 6:30 and the line moved very very swiftly. The venue was very organized except if you were parking a car… it was a little outta control for them ha ha, ha ha ha ha.

One of the things we had hoped we would be able to do would be snag some freebies from fellow Army’s, and they did not disappoint!

We did not bother to try to get any concert merch because the lines were ridiculously long and people had been in them since early morning. Some said most items were sold out by the time they reached the booth. I would have wanted a t-shirt and I’m sure those went fast.

Merch booths were also set up inside the venue, and those lines were also long. We just went ahead and found our seats and sat down and waited for the concert to begin.

The venue was a lot smaller than I thought it would be, I think Allstate Arena capacity is about 20,000 for concerts.

Our seats were fantastic. I’m sure those who chose general admission had a great time down there but that’s not for me.

Yoongi looked amazing even though he was not feeling 100%. He still sounded very good but his voice was a little rough at first.

No one told me that the flames they used during the performance would give off so much heat! I could feel it even from where I was sitting every time they blasted!

Probably one of my favorite songs during the whole concert was Burn It...

The audience barked throughout the concert and Yoongi smiled in acknowledgement. We saw only one concert goer wearing a wedding dress, but did not see any marry me Yoongi signs.

More Yoongi pics:

As you can see, we had matchy-matchy tangerine hat people in front of us. But black seemed to be de rigueur with lots of fishnets on the legs, arms and body, stomper boots and purple hair. Red chopsticks in the hair, cat ears, black kimonos with gold metallic designs, leather pants and skirts and of course a lot of fan made t-shirts and concert merch t-shirts.

As far as the diversity of the crowd there were people of all ages, colors and genders. Male Army were represented well, all ages and ethnicities.

After the concert we hiked up and down Mannheim Road trying to find food, all the hotel restaurants were closed. I think we were also in a post-concert daze. We ended up right back across from the venue at a take-out pizza place called Rosati's. It was the best pizza ever because we were starving and we stood there and ate almost the whole thing straight out of the oven. STRETCHY CHEESE ROCKS!!

I don't think post-concert depression has set in yet. I am still high from the past three days. IT WENT BY SO FAST! My trip home was not as smooth as the one getting to Chicago. My first flight was delayed 2 hours. They changed my gate 5 times. Its a big airport. I got my steps in that day. I was almost late for my connecting flight in Dallas. I had to run to that gate, they were paging me for the last time. They slammed the plane door as soon as I got inside. And then we waited almost another 2 hours to take off because of these storms that arrived to DFW at the same time I did:

As usual, I wish I had taken MORE pictures and video but I was watching as much as I could with my own eyeballs and it now seems like a dream. It was over too fast. I am satisfied I was finally part of the purple ocean on May 5, 2023 but now I need to see all seven of them which is now #1 on my bucket list. Using all my universe manifesting, wishing, prayers, chakras, astrological readings, tarot cards and kumbaya to make it happen in 2025-2026.

[ihartkimchi]

Straight outta Japan~🌸 (pt. 1)

Guess who’s back?!!

I just arrived at my home country from my week long trip to Japan for my birthday!! So here’s some photo dump about my weeb adventures in Japan~

UNIVERSAL STUDIOS JAPAN~

This is definitely one of the first things I put in my vacation itinerary cause there’s no way I’m missing out on their JJK attraction!! 

This is like a 4D cinema ride where an original JJK story was animated just for it! There wasn’t any subtitles throughout the ride sadly but from what I got, it seems that there is going to be an Osaka branch of the Jujutsu school and there’s seem to be some foul play involved which prompted our main trio Yuji, Megumi and Nobara to investigate the sketchy principal.

The story is actually very interesting and there’s some potential for expansion so I’m thinking of including it in my fanfic, Plane of Absolution! Maybe in like a future arc where Makoto/Kamui gets to investigate it along with the main trio or something? Who knows! That’s still a long way to go since we’re barely in the beginning! 

And of course the merch!!

I managed to get Satoru’s popcorn holder but it was so expensive at ¥4,500! I wasn’t able to get Yuuji’s drink bottle or else I’d go over budget but it looked something like this.

It was a bit cheaper than the popcorn holder at ¥2,500 if I remember correctly but I’d go broke if I bought it lol so I settled with the one I got lol（┬┬＿┬┬）

Since JJK was one of their main attraction, there’s an exclusive merch store for it right next to the 4D theater!! I didn’t get to shop anything in it though since as always, theme park prices are insane! I can get better price deals in Akihabara!! ಥ‿ಥ

But anyways here are some pics inside it~

And of course the food!! There were tons of JJK themed food in USJ as well, there was the casual snack place and the other one was the Dining Hall where Gojo’s realistic life size statue is located!

Here’s the snack bar where you can buy light snacks and its located right across the cinema so it’s hard to miss.

And of course! The big daddy of them all- the Dining Hall!!

This one is a little further than where every other JJK attraction was located; it’s closer the the Spiderman ride, just a block away from it. I couldn’t even spot it tbh, it was so lowkey! I had to ask a staff where it was cause I was genuinely lost!

There’s actually a roleplaying going on here, it goes with how the customers are alumni’s of Jujutsu tech and is being welcomed by the students in the Dining Hall in a get-together arranged by Gojo-sensei!!

I wasn’t able to take pictures of the outside since I was so hungry already I just want to eat lol!!  o((*^▽^*))o

I’m ngl, the food was really expensive! Ranging from ¥3,000- ¥4000 yen, and that’s not even including the pictures with Gojo-sensei!! You are definitely paying for the experience! 

It was so expensive actually that my other family left to find cheaper food lol and since they weren’t really fans of JJK there was no point to eat here really. My rich aunt was the only one who stayed with me since she’s the one with the nice phone to help me take pics inside!

I ended up ordering this sushi set- according to the waiter Megumi cooked this for me!!  ٩(*•͈ ꇴ •͈*)و ̑̑❀

It cost around  ¥3,700 yen and according to the website my orders consists of :

Assorted Sushi (Sardine, Greater Amberjack, Sea Bream, Squid, Sweet Shrimp),Scallop and Lotus Root with Ginger-Kiwi Vinegar, Meatballs simmered with Ginger, Assorted Tempura (Pork & Julienned Ginger, Mochi, Shishito Pepper),White and Black Sesame Tofu, Black Soybeans with Cream Cheese, Seedless Grapes with Mashed Tofu, Roasted Green Onion with Green Pepper Miso, Grilled Turban in the Shell, and Miso Soup.

The meal is honestly delicious and definitely tasted expensive! Would I buy it again? No lol but it’s definitely a must experience if you are a fan of JJK!

My aunt ended up ordering the Yuji special as well as the Tapioca Lemonade Tea that came with a free random character coaster! She managed to get Gojo and decided to give it to me!!

I’m not sure which character was the drink for but on the other hand these are the menu for the Yuji special!

Tempura Rice Bowl (Conger Eel, Shrimp, Sillago, Pumpkin, Shishito Pepper, Maitake Mushroom, Red Pickled Ginger), Hot Somen Noodles, and Side Dishes (Beef Tongue with Yam, Pickled Radish with Tofu Paste)

Just quick note, but the Yuji meal was HUGE!! I was so surprised when the waitress came with the order! I guess it make sense since Yuji looks like the type to be a big eater >.<

Now to the main event of the Dining Hall- meeting Gojo-sensei!

There’s a life-size Gojo statue inside the dining hall which is the main reason why you want to eat there in the first place- esp with their expensive menu! The chance to meet Gojo-sensei!!

The statue was so realistic its kinda creepy >3< ! You can see its pores and I lowkey expect it to breathe lol~~

You can only enter the restaurant if you are buying a meal and it actually make sense why they are limiting the amount of people since the statue is fragile and you’re not even allowed to touch it!

The photos are really expensive guys! It at ¥2,500 yen for the set of 3 photos! The first 2 is your choice of the ready made Gojo pictures and the third one is your picture with him. And there’s only really 2 poses you can do with him since the people there don’t want you touching the statue- its either the pointing pose (which is the one picked) and the peace sign pose.

The staff there will allow you only 1 photo with your personal phone/camera but everything else, you have to purchase lol~

and of course the anya sticker for censorship lol, I don’t want to doxx myself! Σ(ﾟДﾟ；)

The photoset comes in a foldable photobook like this~

After paying for your meal at the cashier you can approach the lady there and inform her about your picture purchase. She will guide you with a tablet to help you pick which pictures you liked and the lady at the elevator will give you your photobook. They all speak conversational English as well, so definitely foreigner friendly!

After purchasing it, they will give you the receipt where you can claim a digital copy of your photos using a link to their website with an exclusive password listed on it. You have to claim the photos immediately though since it will only last a month in the USJ database and can only be claimed while your IN Japan, so foreign tourists really need to claim it immediately before they leave the country.

There are also other JJK attraction like the Hollywood Dream x JJK ride- there wasn’t really any JJK pictures there so I didn’t bother taking any but I did ride it! The ride has this gimmick of allowing the riders their option of music to listen to while riding the roller coaster and one of the songs there is Kaikai Kitan by Eve which is the OP for JJK!

It was so fun actually and definitely a great and energetic song to ride a roller coaster to!

Another attraction is the Jaws photo opportunity x JJK where you can choose a JJK frame to accompany your photo with the Jaws shark. I wasn’t really interested in it cause it was expensive af lol!!

If any of y’all want to experience this, y’all better hurry up since this attraction is only up until this July 2023!! 

Was it expensive? Yes. 

Was it worth the money? Hell yeah!

[tinyowlthoughts]

Because it's SAFE!

Walnut Shell: Just remember Thumbalina, snatched from her bed in the middle of the night when that crazy toad mom could just close it and carry her away!

Bottlecap: These are picked up ALL THE TIME, by kids or people who don't like litter. Plus they can roll, and are highly attractive to playful cats and hungry dogs.

Empty can of sardines: Smell, and likely remnants of oil, that make it highly undesirable as a resting place, but ALSO make you smell like food to passing hungry beasts.

Flower or mushroom: Is it stable? Is it in a spot where animals can't eat it, or a lawnmower can't reach it? Are we talking a reinforced structure for the mushroom? And what kind of mushroom is it anyway, is it lethal? Or likely to be picked by biggun's for being delicious? Will the pollinators be annoyed at you sleeping in their lunch, will deer or other herbivores skip your napping spot when they need a nibble?

A shoe: BIGGUN' FEET GO IN THESE! Smell aside, what if they slip them on without checking? You'd be toe jam!

Seashell: Same as the walnut - if it can close, easy kidnapping. If it's spiral, you've gotta fight off hermit crabs. If it's neither of those things, it's like a flat dish, and no back support. Scalloped? Pointy edges.

A tiny bed in a dollhouse: Tiny bed. In a tiny house. Where you can safely pretend to be a doll if you're incognito to the biggun's.

Pocket of a shirt being worn: One wrong move and you're jelly! A smear that barely comes out in the wash. Not to mention the potential to suffocate or overheat.

Abandoned/Empty Birds Nest: Some birds will reuse other birds nests, or their own nest. Also, if it's empty/abandoned, that means the babies either fledged and left (leaving it absolutely COVERED in bird crap), or may have died (and likely there's still some bird crap). Bird nests are not clean or pristine - they are literal diapers.

Battery Compartment of a TV Remote: You can be shut in, you can be shocked, you can be squished when they install a new battery.

A Frying Pan: This has gotta be a bait answer to out the vore enjoyers.

So yeah, dollhouse bed makes the most sense! I'd likely go with seashell second, if the bed is unavailable, just make sure there aren't any giant mers around.

all with comfortable bedding & pillows and stuff ofc <3

[noctomania]

Queen of Black Olives

So I have been a big fan of black olives (and ONLY black olives. Not green, not kalamata. Black.) my whole life. So much so that my parents would actually give me a can of black olives as a stocking stuffer for xmas and I would also eat whole cans in one sitting and even drink some of the juice. So I wanna nerd out a bit about these delicious lil black gems.

Since I brought it up already, I will clarify the difference between black olives and other olives. Truth is there are a LOT of different kinds of olives, over a dozen. But the two most popular are Manzanilla and Kalamata.

Kalamata you will usually find used in Mediterranean dishes like Greek Salad. They are definitely darker, but not entirely black. Usually have something of a purple tint to them. Manzanilla however are the common green or black olives. Yes, green olives and black olives are the same but merely picked at different times.

Green olives are produced when Manzanilla olives are picked while still unripened. When they are full ripe, at which point they are darker though not as dark as they will be until they cured in their brine causing oxidation of compounds in the olives. Supposedly both green and black olives share similar nutritional data but reportedly green olives are much higher in sodium content - somewhat surprising news to me considering how salty black olives are! There are some other differences just due to the give and take of ripe vs unripe.

Overall, olives are very good for your health and may have been the healthiest thing I was eating as a child even by the whole can. But there was a time where olives killed many, back in 1919. But before I get to that let me back up just a little bit more to talk about the "Queen of Black Olives", Freda Ehmann.

Well, there isn't all that much to say about her but that she was the inventor of canned black olives...or rather of uncanned black olives. She was originally from Germany but found her way to Illinois and then California in 1892 as a farmer with a olive grove and a desire to expand her market beyond olive oil and to make the fruit ripen faster. Ehmann approached the University of California for assistance in developing a way of pickling the olives. Eventually, Ehmann successfully developed a recipe and founded the Ripe Olive Industry of California.

Now mind you, she figured out the pickling, but the preserving was still an issue, unbeknownst to Ehmann or anyone else of the time. Originally she was selling the ripe olives in loosely sealed barrels then later in properly sealed glass jars to keep from spilling, but this eventually caused a disaster across three states.

In 1919, 19 people died from botulism from canned olives, and the olives were traced back to Ehmann. This halted the olive industry until the canning industry could catch up and save it from this terrible disaster. It wasn't until 1925 that the canning situation was resolved and this is when many foods began to be canned like sardines and veggies. The proper process for sanitizing the cans is to heat them for nearly a hour at 240F, which would break glass but the metal cans could withstand. So why are greens in glass and black in cans? That goes back to the ripeness.

When fruit is ripe it will release more gas. This is because it's breaking down - like we all are slowly bit by bit dying. Anyway, as it releases these gasses it can create a bacteria-happy environment when contained and boom, botulism. Whereas with the unripe fruit of green olives this is not a concern and a glass jar works fine for them for a long term shelf life.

Oh and as for what happened to Ehmann, she retired after the botulism debacle. Personally I don't blame her for the issue and I appreciate her innovation. Black olives for life!

[mygainyear2024]

Day 76 A Supratours bus to Essaouira and I’m taking my coffee black!

After seeing the open UHT milk stored under the sink I’m now having a long black and the pods I purchased for myself are splitting my portable machine, so I’m using Rose’s Starbucks coffee. Lucky for me she’s not interested in black coffee as we have a limited supply 😂

When we arrived in Marrakesh we noticed a lot of sheep being moved around the city. Hassan says everything will be closed for three days and people will head home to family.

Despite Rose telling Hassan she has a “made up” boyfriend at home, it does not deter either of them! Anyway I’m getting my incessant questions answered via their instagram chat from the bus. He writes to Rose and explains it’s the Muslim festival marking the culmination of the annual pilgrimage to Mecca and commemorating the sacrifice of Abraham. When I google shop opening hours I see Eid al-Adha, hours might differ!

The driver to the bus station explains to me that Marrakesh is now one of the safest destinations to travel, particularly in Africa. I enquired about what makes everyone so helpful. He said it’s the religion, culture, networks of businesses that work together to look after each other and the tourists, the responsive of government (eg lights in streets, cameras everywhere, more police).

A British tourist on the bus says each sheep costs 6500 dirham (that’s about $1200 AUD) and if you can’t afford a sheep to sacrifice you can swap for a goat that’s 2500 dirham. Rose confirms this with Hassan.

The three hour trip to Essaouira is comfortable with a loo stop about one hour out. When I look up from typing my blog into notes I see the occasional donkey pulling supplies, one part of the highway has a beautiful garden up the centre strip, there’s lots of dirt, a car crosses sides in front of the bus and the driver never looks our way and a young boy plays chicken with the bus driver on his bike at a roundabout!

After noisily wheeling one suitcase through the Medina for about 15 minutes to our Riad we head out for food. I read a blog of some recent digital nomads and I’m keen to try their street food pastilla recommendation. When we passed by it looked like he was all out. We went back and he made us fresh ones. We waited about 15 minutes, delicious but oily at 45 dirhams each. Keen to grab coffee I’d listed about four places where photos told the story of the possibility of a decent latte. Sisterhood Coffee & Shop is closest, the oat milk latte is passable but Rose’s iced oat milk latte looks like dirty water and maybe a good idea that it has no ice!

Given the imminent closure of business we prioritise looking around the shops. A lovely find was a large jewellery store with beautiful pieces. I hear an Aussie accent and engage, but she’s an unwilling participant. It looked like her and her offsider were potentially doing larger business with the store. Anyway I picked a beautiful pair of earrings with the help of the patient saleswoman, crafted locally using filigree (which I’d also seen in Portugal, the sales woman says it originated from here) and the Essaouira flower, the daisy (one of my favourites). It also has the Moroccan triangle and now I forget what this symbolises, but I recall it’s female related.

Dinner was at Triskala, another of the bloggers recommendations, and their menu focussed on whatever fish is caught and purchased on the day. I think because we had an 8pm booking we missed the sardines (maybe I’ll miss this season altogether, recall I was too early in Portugal) and we have the sea bass with roasted veg instead and a starter of smoked sardine pastries (Rose not a fan!)

[frankboeijen]

Worked half the day from a café today and had Thai food for a late lunch with Devon so maybe life is good 😁

[amjustagirl]

chapter 3: frost melts in firelight 

chapters: 3 / 15 pairing: miya osamu x f! reader  genre: romance, angst, fluff, inzarizaki shenanigans  wc: 4.3k summary: miya osamu does not dare fire to his heart. it burns anyway. 

(prev / next) 

You intended to stay away from Miya Osamu even though your stomach traitorously whines for another taste of the onigiris he makes, because they’re honestly downright delicious and you’ve been dreaming of them instead of the factory-made onigiris you’ve been eating at work. 

Not because you dislike him. Quite the contrary, really. 

You keep well away because you know it wouldn’t end well for you if you foolishly let yourself be pulled into his orbit. The truth is you’re unaccustomed to people, let alone handsome men with crinkles at the corner of dark eyes that telegraph a lifetime of smiles. You know for certain that you will fall hard and fast if you do not keep your heart carefully frozen, locked away in the icy tundra of your heart, and there’s nothing to cushion the fall. Gravity will drag you down because you’re just you - a wholly uninteresting thirty something year old with hardly anything to show for the number of years you’ve accumulated, and he’s a thriving business owner who’s brave and quietly funny and ambitious. 

But though you stay away, fate obviously has other plans for you.

Because your rice cooker breaks down, damnit. 

You stare down at the machine which beeps sadly at you, laughing at the ceiling because of course you have to eat your words to feed your stomach, and of course your traitorous feet colludes with your stomach to bring you back in front of Miya Osamu’s store. Your nose picks up the familiar scent of perfect grilled rice, and you give in to the inevitable when your stomach growls and whines. 

(a moth drawn to the flame, heedless to the danger of being burnt) 

Fate intervenes yet again, because Miya Osamu’s behind the counter when you push through the door. “Welcome”, he calls, eyes crinkling at you from beneath his cap, and though your sense of self-preservation tells you to turn around and leave, you find yourself a seat at the counter, right in front of him. “I hope you’re hungry”, he jokes, and you find yourself smiling when you tell him that you are quite hungry indeed. 

You expect him to putter away and leave you alone once he serves you food, but he lingers by your side.

“Did your rice cooker actually break down?” he asks, and laughs when you admit sheepishly that it actually did, the sound wide and bright, filling the homely space. So you eat your pride in exchange for some of the most amazing onigiris you’ve ever had - he’s gone heavy on the seafood this time because, as he explains, a huge shipment came in from the port in Kobe, and he’s snagged some for himself - grilled young sardines, salted cod mentaiko with baby squid, even some short necked clams, and again he surprises you.  

“Come back again”, he says when you’ve thanked him for the meal. 

Your stomach prompts you to reply ‘very soon’ with a smile that he returns. 

It’s easy enough to replace a rice cooker, but you find yourself back at Onigiri Miya again and again. At first you make excuses for yourself - it’s raining, and it’s just around the corner, so you might as well stop for a quick meal and some shelter, or blaming yet another visit on the fact that your fridge is empty and groceries will only be delivered the next day, and most ridiculously, reasoning that rice is a form of self-care - it is, of course the foundation of every meal, gohan literally means rice -  and you deserve to fill your stomach with the best rice that you can find. 

Soon enough, you’ve become a regular customer to Onigiri Miya, returning at least twice to thrice a week, often enough that all the staff know exactly that you prefer warm barley tea because it warms your throat, even if the weather outside is sweltering, you must have a bowl of soup to accompany your onigiris - your favourite is the oxbone soup with radish, though sometimes if you’ve had a hard day at work, you opt for the miso pork instead, and that you’ll try to hoodwink them into letting you pay for your food even though their boss has left strict instructions not to take any money from you under any circumstances. 

“Let me pay”, you insist, trying to shove money into hapless Miyamura-kun’s hands, the college-aged part-timer looking for the life of him a scared deer in headlights as he stammers that he isn’t going to take any payment from you, because Miya-san was furious that you paid last round. You think you’re sneaky by trying to leave money on the table regardless, but speak of the devil - Miya Osamu emerges from the back to hand you a box full of plump onigiris, packed to go - it’ll last you for tomorrow’s lunch, at least - sweeping up your cash to hand it back to you with a firm - I ain’t takin’ any payment from you, at least let me feed ya, for gods’ sake, you’re so stubborn, woman! 

“You shouldn’t be so generous”, you argue. “Letting me eat for free is bad for business.” 

He stares at you in open disbelief. Then he actually brandishes a (thankfully empty) pot at you, and drolly points to where a shiny kettle is perched on his stove. 

Fine, you grumble under your breath. Point taken. 

What’s even worse for his business is that he doesn’t leave you alone when you’re in his shop, the times he’s around at least. 

At first, he keeps his topics of conversations to the food you’re consuming, asking if you enjoy whatever new combination he’s come up with - there’s a secret menu in Onigiri Miya, it seems, and Miya Osamu seems hell-bent on using you as a taste-tester, perhaps he finds out that your taste buds are sharp enough to pick up every layer of flavour he’s worked into each dish, and you’re honest enough to tell him when his ideas suck. 

“Right, I got the message”, he laughs apologetically when you splutter and actually spit out some odious concoction of barbecued squid and peanut butter. 

“It’s not that bad” you say in an attempt to placate him. “I feel like if you didn’t use teriyaki marinade on the squid before you barbecued it and mixed it into the peanut butter instead, it might’ve been a little more melded together. Needs acid to cut through all that sugar though.”

“Hrm”, he leans forward, tapping his chin. “Maybe I’ll try that. You’ll eat version 2.0, right?” 

“Forget I ever said anything”, you grouse as he chuckles, sliding you another (more delicious) onigiri in recompense. 

Over time, the standard greetings of welcome back and how are you slowly change into a cheeky have you eaten and the immediate punchline that follows I guess not, cos you’re here again. Then he starts asking questions that grow increasingly personal in nature from his place behind the counter, on the other side. Incremental growth, like snow that melts away inch by inch to reveal the ground over gradual shifts in degrees, beginning from the mundane so ‘how was your day’ (you never know how to answer that, because he’s probably the first person to ask you that in a very long time), to ‘the weather kinda sucks, huh’, to more personal questions that he actually seems curious about - ‘like so what d’you do for a day job, besides bein’ my landlady’, and ‘how d’you know so much about food?’ 

You never give him a straight response to the latter, but you do eventually reply that you work in a combini - a convenience store. 

“What?!” he exclaims. 

“A 7/11, two streets away”, you reply. Noticing the frozen look of shock on his face, you parrot his words back at him - “what?”

“Nothin’”, he answers after a couple of beats. “I - I’m just kinda surprised.” 

“I’m not suited to do much else”, you deadpan. “‘Sides, it’s kinda fun to stack the shelves and figure out new ways of arranging umbrellas and snack bars and popsicles, and the night shift can be kinda relaxing, especially when it’s raining in summer and snowing in winter, cos’ no one really comes in and you have space to just be by yourself.” 

“Sounds fun”, he says, as if he’s at a loss as to how to formulate a response that won’t offend.  

It doesn’t sting even though you know he’s trying to be polite. Your job is what it is, a means to keep you occupied and extra money on the side since you’re saving any rental income from the store for when a storm might whirl into your life. If he interprets your choice to mean you’re lazy or unambitious and withdraws from your acquaintanceship as a result, as it seems he does for the next fortnight where his questions to you become perfunctory and he keeps his topics of conversations strictly food-related, that’s his prerogative. 

(oh, foolish little moth. you flew too close, singed your wings)

That’s fine. If you’re being a burden, someone he doesn’t deem as worthy of getting to know, you can take the hint. Your stomach can learn to be deprived of the best onigiris you’ve ever had the honour of devouring. You can rely on your trusty rice cooker and 7/11 egg mayo sandwiches - their tuna mayo onigiris don’t cut it, now that you’ve tasted the real deal, but that’s alright. You’re an adult. It’d be silly to feel down because a kid you met at the playground refuses to be your friend. After all, you were just being decent to him without expectation of anything in return. 

Always expect the worst. That way you’ll never be disappointed.     

That’s how you’ve protected what’s left of your heart, by slowly but surely swallowing incremental doses of liquid nitrogen. You’ve trapped it in a cage of ice, buried it under a blanket of snow. 

All for its own good. 

So you stay away from Onigiri Miya as humidity and heavy summer rains wash the streets of Osaka, and your rice cooker groans in complaint at the additional labour it must perform. He does resurface briefly when your phone blinks alive with a notification that he’s transferred this month’s rent to your bank account, which you promptly transfer back, but other than that, you successfully avoid him for two weeks. 

Until, yet again, rain thwarts your plans, and for some reason you can’t quite fathom, you’re standing in front of Onigiri Miya yet again. Today, though, you immediately notice that something’s off. Miya Osamu has always run a tight operation, you’ve hardly ever seen a queue or anyone waiting for a seat, for that matter, and yet today there are people spilling out from the shop into the sidewalk, a sea of hungry, frustrated faces. When you peer through the glass, Osamu is stranded alone behind the counter underneath a pile of orders, only assisted by poor Miyamura-kun who looks like he’s about to drop dead on his feet. 

You poke your head into the store. “What’s going on?” 

Miyamura-kun is clearly on the verge of tears, because he babbles in a lowered voice that Morita and Ishida - the main chefs in the second store, are both down with food poisoning from bad oysters, and his other staff are occupied with peak hour at the first store, so Osamu’s left to run the kitchen by himself. 

“He should close the store and stop taking in orders”, you point out. 

Miyamura shrugs helplessly, then yelps when a bevy of customers decide at that moment to swarm him with questions why their orders aren’t ready yet. They’re both drowning, Osamu doesn’t even have time to look up to greet you, and he looks as if he’s one onigiri away from mental collapse.

You push your way into the store, weaving through customers to slide behind the counter. Ignoring Osamu’s spluttered - what the hell are ya doin’, you don an extra apron hanging on the side, roll up your sleeves to wash your hands and when you deem yourself ready, you snort and reply - it kinda looks like you need help. 

It’s testament to how busy he is that he doesn’t even have the time to stop you. 

You scan the kitchen to grasp your bearings, run an eye over the neverending pile of tickets, cast a dubious glance at the buckets of onigiri toppings that’s obviously running low. That you should leave for Osamu to deal with, since he’s best placed to recreate the exact flavour profile for each of the fifty fillings he offers. 

“I’ll make the onigiris while you prepare the fillings?” 

“You’re just gonna get in the way”, he says despairingly. “Look - I appreciate your help, really I do but this is a kitchen - ”

You snort but you don’t bother retorting. After all, actions speak louder than words, you’ve always believed. So you spread salt and sprinkle water over your hands, scooping rice between your palms before adding a careful heaping of tuna mayonnaise. Osamu’s disbelieving eyes widen to an almost comical degree when you shape a perfect onigiri with a gentle press of your hands, wrapping it neatly with a nori sheet. 

“What’s next?” you ask. You’re already preparing the next onigiri on the menu as you speak. 

He blinks before his brain reboots. “I’ll prep more fillings.” 

“You do that”, you say distractedly, hands a blur with rolling together yet another order - salmon mentaiko, then a fancy order of three avocado smoked salmon with cream cheese (which is a little fiddly but you manage), a daily special of umeboshi, grilled shio onigiri, kimchi pork belly - seriously, it’s a bit of pain because the oil leaks into the rice, but you learn that you need to pat the filling dry - then he returns with a whole trayful of added supplies, much needed reinforcement in the trenches. 

You work in tandem with Osamu, rolling onigiris in your hands, grilling them over charcoal, holding the fort as he runs back and forth whenever a particular filling runs low - it’s all backbreaking, gruelling work. Hands a constant flurry of movement, feet sore from standing up, but the adrenaline of pushing through and satisfying customers pushes you through the entire stack of orders until finally, finally the store is clear and the dinner rush is over. 

You end your shift the way you started it, by washing your hands, bowing to your makeshift workstation for being kind to you. Miyamura-kun slumps over a table, too drained to even gather himself to his feet, and you ruffle his hair sympathetically, stealing his spray bottle and wipe cloth from him to disinfect all the tables and chairs, commandeering a broom and mop to clean the floors as Osamu tells the younger boy to knock off work, since it’s well past his working hours. Things must always be set back in place and cleaned at the end of a shift - some lessons are never unlearnt, and you hum in satisfaction when everything’s tidied up, all spick and span. 

When you turn around to return the borrowed apron, Osamu levels an inscrutable stare at you. 

“What?” you ask a little shortly. Your stomach rumbles like thunder, and hunger pangs are starting to strike you, terrible as lightning.  

“You’re a trained chef”, he says. A statement, not a question. 

“Yes”, you confirm. You’ve always been a little feisty when starving. “And?” 

“You didn’t mention that when you said you worked at a 7/11”, he answers, frowning. “It’s just a lil’ confusing, ‘cos you’re actually good - I’ve never seen anyone make onigiris like that right off the bat, there’s no way. You must’ve done it enough times ‘til you can do it in your sleep.”  

“So what if I’m good at cooking?” you match his frown. 

For all of Miya Osamu’s amiability, he doesn’t back down. “I just think it’s just a waste - ”

“To work a dead-end job at 7/11?” you shoot back. For all the heat behind your anger, your hands are cold, laden with disappointment you shouldn’t be feeling if you were wise enough to heed your own words and expect the very worst. You don’t know his judgement stings white hot against your skin, when you should’ve learnt to brush this off by now, but his words simply pour oil into the rolling fire of your sudden rage. “To sit on my ass all day and collect money from you instead of running my own store?” 

“Woah”, he raises his hands up. “I didn’t say that - ”

“No, but you implied it”, you snap. “I don’t need to justify my life choices to you - I don’t need to explain myself to anyone what I do with my time and skills, because I have my reasons and it’s my own choice.” 

“I think you’re putin’ words in my mouth”, he says after a long pause. “I think you’re bein’ emotional - ”

“I’m willing to bet a whole lot of money on the fact that you were about to lecture me about wastin’ my skills and training and chasing my dreams of bein’ a chef - tell me I’m wrong”, you snarl. “Swear on your store - since that’s obviously your dream, and tell me that’s not true.” 

“You are wastin’ your skills - ” Osamu begins, but he’s cut off by the jaunty jingle of the store’s bell. 

A bellow. “Osamu, yer scrub, you didn’t answer yer phone”.

 “Stay here - let me see what my idiot twin wants first”, he says as he heads back out front. 

It’s only when you’re in the kitchen alone that you realise, with cold horror and anxiety clawing its way through your chest leaving frostbite in its wake - that oh gods - that you’ve dropped your usual facade of cool politeness and detachment - likely because hunger makes you do terrible things, and you’ve been unspeakably rude to Osamu. You’ve been brought up to be better than this, trained to be nothing but meek and mild and polite - he must think you’re some kind of crazy, rude bitch.  

So you do what you do best. 

When Miya Osamu’s back is turned, you slip out of the store, fleeing into the night. 

There’s really nothing wrong with running away. 

That might make you a coward, but it’s easier to hide and cower rather than face up to any unpleasant situations - what was the saying you read in high school, right - that discretion is the better part of valour, so if you bunker down in your little ice cave and seek shelter from the world, that’s an inoffensive enough of a strategy. It hurts no one, least of all yourself. 

You will skirt around the streets just to avoid both iterations of Onigiri Miya just to ensure that you eliminate any possibility of running into its owner. You will pretend that the texts you receive from him don’t exist, ignoring his entreaties to come back, let’s talk to ill-disguised bait about the store he’s building - it’s coming along nicely, in case you’d like to meet me to have a look. 

He didn’t exist in your life before, so in theory it should be easy to carve him out. 

In practice, you forget that Miya Osamu can be determined to the point of obstinacy. That makes sense considering what you know of him - setting up a successful food business in his early twenties despite having no family connections in the industry (picking up the trade is far easier when you’ve learnt it at your parents’ knees, he’s probably had to learn it from trial and error, having never been to culinary school), and only having the funds that an online shop and occasional pop-up stalls might give him - which is to say, not very much at all. 

Still, you gape at him when you look up to find him illuminated by the splashes of rain and fluorescent lights, your customary greeting of ‘Irasshaimase!’ dying on your lips. A take-out bag with the navy logo of Onigiri Miya hangs from his wrist, and your stomach immediately grumbles, complaining about its subsistence of 7/11 onigiris this past week, a poor substitute compared to what Osamu used to offer instead. 

You plaster on a cheery smile, bowing to welcome him to the store. 

Hopefully he’s just here to grab an umbrella to shield him from the rain. Or maybe he’s here to grab some chips - everyone, even a chef with plenty of food at his disposal, indulges in some junk once in a while. Or maybe, given the timing of his visit to the combini and its proximity to the love hotel just down the road, he’s here to get some supplies (something in your gut burns, the resulting fumes acrid and sour) and you’ll just keep your head down if so, no need to make things awkward, a guy has his needs you’re sure - no one would begrudge him for that - 

“Hey”, he says softly, adopting a tone one would use on spooked creatures. Mired in your inner monologue, you fail to notice him approach the counter gingerly. 

You pull your smile even wider until it’s taut in a pained grimace. “Hey there ”, you reply. “How may I help you?” 

He lays the bag on the counter. “I brought you food”, he explains, even though it’s unnecessary because you can smell the familiar scent of katsu and luncheon meat. But even though your stomach leaps with joy, you don’t make a move to take it. 

“I can’t take that”, you say, even though your fingers twitch. “Thank you, but it’s fine.”

“But I can hear your stomach growling”, he replies with a slight smirk. 

Your cheeks flare up, heat flushing through your face. “It’s the air conditioning”, you lie. “Must be spoiled. Please, sir - is there anything I can help you with? If not I’m going to have to ask that you leave me alone-”

“Do you really want me to?” he asks. There’s the faintest flicker of something in his warm, dark eyes that you can’t quite recognise, possibly disappointment- but surely he can’t be disappointed if your rude self disappeared from his life, never to darken his doors again. 

“I - ” You hesitate. 

“I’ll leave ya alone if you really want me to, but I wanted to ask when your shift ends so I can come back and apologise. I reckon I was behaving badly last night -” he snorts self deprecatingly. “‘Tsumu must’ve possessed me when I was talkin’ to you, and you didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that by anyone, least of all by me. I should’ve been thankin’ you for saving my stupid ass, instead of interrogating you.”

“You don’t need to thank me”, you say. 

“Then at least let me feed you”, he replies, pushing the bag towards you. “Then at least come back to my shop so I can feed you, that’s the least my ungrateful ass can do for you.”

“You don’t need to do anything for me”, you frown, pushing the bag back towards him. “I’m not asking anything from you - ”

“But I want to”, he says simply. 

(a flutter beneath a blanket of snow and ice) 

“You want to?” you repeat, confused. “Why?” 

“Why?” This time, it’s Osamu’s to be confused, brows furrowing. “What are we, five? I wanna be friends, in case that wasn’t already obvious. Scratch that - cos I thought we were friends already, and that’s what friends do.” 

Friends. 

You turn over that concept in your head. To be honest, what you only had growing up were acquaintances, children of your parents’ associates who you had to hang out with, classmates in school who only ever bothered to say hi and bye at best - you were kept so busy at training to take over your father’s sushi restaurant that you hardly ever spent time around people for social purposes. Your current job and lifestyle doesn’t offer you much opportunity to make friends either - your shifts at the combini are always done solo, and you don’t go out of your way to seek people. You don’t notice the absence of something you never had. 

But now when you’re three decades into the game called life, opportunity comes knocking on your door. 

You give a final, regretful look at the take-out bag before pushing it back to Osamu. “I can’t eat on the job”, you say but before his face can fall, with a shy peek to his face before dropping your gaze to your feet, you add - “but my shift ends at six tomorrow morning”. 

“Sounds like you might need a big breakfast then”, Osamu chuckles. “I’ll see you soon.” 

The rest of your shift passes without event. The rain starts to die sometime after midnight, and you’re spared the usual unruly customers who stumble in after a wild night of drinking. There’s even a cat that sneaks in. You empathise with her hunger, offer her a can of tuna that you pay for from your credits, and she rewards you with her presence, curling by your feet as the sun starts its slow steady climb back into the sky. You name her kombu-chan (because she’s got a seaweed like streak across her back), and shoo her out gently as you pack up to leave, laughing as she stops short outside the combini to hiss at the tall man waiting for you outside the store, an even larger takeout bag in his hands. 

He kneels beside her and buys her affection the same way you did, handing over an offering of food before greeting you with a grin that’s brighter than the rising sun. 

“Good mornin’”, he says, tipping his cap to you. “Hungry?” 

You spent your whole life learning to be lonely but now Miya Osamu enters it to turn everything inside out and upside down. 

“Always”, you reply.

a/n: chapter 3, and our frosty reader is finally thawing out! 

[w2beastars]

Waezi2′s thoughts on “Beast Complex” chapter 20

Well... I don’t think that this is officially “chapter” 20, but that’s what we are calling it. Paru gave us ONE more nice little tale about animals who may or may not eat each other, this time the story is called “The Black Panther and the Sea Otter.”

Hehe... Kinda sounds like a superhero team up :P

Anyway...

Gil the Panther and Po the Otter are co-workers at a company of some sort. They are on casually friendly terms and takes the train to work together.

And you probably noticed that Po the Sea Otter is almost as tall as Gil who is a panther which at first seems pretty unlikely. But keep in mind that carnivores in Beastars has become smaller since the stone age since they stopped eating meat as their primary food and only get protein from eggs, milk and occasionally bugs. Sea carnivores like otters eat meat since sea animals have a different view on consumption of other animals.

Speaking of which, Gil has a problem... he wants to eat Po’s hand so badly.

Yep. Here we go again:/

Gil catches himself staring at Po’s white fluffy hand when they take the train together, and it makes him feel like scum. And it doesn’t help that his hand is white like snow, one of the traits that makes an animal more appealing to the eye in this crazy world, so it is hard not to look at.

Po, who is an animal of the sea, notices that Gil looks somewhat hungry and being the extremely frank animal he is since he is from the sea makes him ask if he wants some “food.”

Yep, Po just pulls out a pack of sardine crackers from his bag in the train. Train as in PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION! Po was raised in the sea, so he is not as thoughtful when it comes to social norms on land, like not eating other animals. Sure, he is allowed to eat fish since their are no laws about that in the sea and he can eat it as long as he actually purchased it, but it is frowned upon by the rest of land society.

Gil has often noticed how Po unashamed eats fish at the office cafeteria while the others glare at him as if he is some sort of monster. He would probably have been fired long ago if it wasn’t because of his job as translator. Him speaking both land and sea language fluently makes him to valuable. But Gil doesn’t judge him, possibly because he secretly want to eat his hand. The fact that Po has such a nonchalant view on eating and being eaten probably means he would forgive Gil, making Gil feel even worse.

But knowing the world of Beast Complex as well as I do makes me think that Gil is too hard on himself. He mentions being from the countryside, far from the big city he now lives and works in, so he is probably stressed. And being stressed means that carnivores have an even bigger urge to want to eat other animals. So being stuffed inside a train so close to a “delicious” looking animal with eye-catching white fur is hell for a stressed-out country boy.

But one day, something happens that should NOT happen.

The train stopes, making Gil bump into Po... and he accidentally licks Po’s white hand.

Dogshit on a sandwich, that is NOT what he needs right now!!!

When Po gets off the train, Gil follows him in order to apologize in private since that was all sorts of wrong.

... And then Po tells him that its totally cool if he wants to eat him. And he does so while his face looks like a plush toy as usual.

DUDE! DA FUCK!?

I get that he means well and is telling him that there would be no hard feelings as he thinks predator animals should be allowed to eat what they grave for. But Gil is shocked by this and is speechless. He cant even sleep at night, thinking of what Po said to him.

We learn that Gil has more reason to be stressed than we assumed as he is probably not as qualified as he could be for the office job as he was mainly hired for his fur color. This is normal in the Beastverse where "pretty privilege” is very much a thing. That can bite you in the ass if your boss a douchebag who bullies you by reminding you that you only have your job because you are a hot piece of ass. And Gil is reminded that he should be more like Po who is from far away as well but is pulling more than his weight.

When Gil is on his way home, he is depressed and stressed more than usual, and consider taking a trip to the Back-Alley Marked to get some meat. He doesn’t feel guilty about that as such, which is not so weird as it is expected that to be a functioning adult in this world that you have to eat meat now and than to keep yourself in check... even though all it does is making you dependable on meat to keep your urge in check and that could actually make you more likely to one day eat someone out of frustration.

Po is fortunately a very nice guy who looks out for his colleagues and asks Gil if he is okay... and if licking his hand might help him feel better GOD DAMMIT, PO!

The train is extra crowded, and this is where the country panther and sea otter bond over the one thing they have in common: Feeling isolated while being surrounded by other people. None of them feel comfortable about the big city trains.

Po explains that “lonely” is not a concept in the sea as such. Sure, they know what it is, but they have never truly understood the concept. But living and working on land has made Po understand loneliness very VERY well. He knows that everyone at the office sees him as some sort of bloodthirsty monster since he eats fish, and that he only gets to keep his job because he is too hard to replace. That makes him feel isolated.

And then we get to see that there is possibly more than one sort of tension between these two besides Gil wanting to taste Po’s hand.

Po out of nowhere grabs Gil’s hand. He tells him that sea otters hold hands with their mates when they are tired so they don’t accidentally drift away from each other.

What´s interesting is that Gil is at first surprised. But he is not embarrassed by holding hands with Po in public or try to let go of Po’s hand. It seems like it does have a calming effect on him.

But then the train stops and all the animals in it push to try and get out or get out of the way for those who wish to leave.

Gil tightens his grip on Po’s hand so they don’t get separated. He is surprised by how important it is for him to hold hands with him. But he also realizes that nothing seems as important to hold on to this hand, to be sure that the otter is safe in a world full of animals that might want to eat this delicious white-furred otter.

... And then they get kicked out of the train XD

I mean, I get it. Its two big carnivores who yells and blocks the other passengers, I would want them off the train :P

Po is touched by Gil’s kindness and the two of them go for a drink... while they keep holding hands.

They are two extremely different animals far from home, but they at least have each other :)

[noodle-slurp]

Part 6

-drags this to you as a broken and bleeding corpse. Get ya part 6....part 6 ready to go!

Tw: mentions of violence? Uh...yea.

---------

They don’t speak on the way to the vehicle. It’s not that either have nothing to say, it’s just neither are sure how to breech the topic of what it is they want to ask.

It’s the giant that breaks the silence first, his voice a low rumble through their bones despite how level he keeps it. “So what brought you back?” he asks as he scratches his back on a nearby tree.

Man he really wanted to know, huh…

They exhale a sigh as they rummage through their cracked console and stuff their bag with the jerky inside. They don’t answer right away, mind flashing back to those days - the the darkness, the weight of careless hands around them, of teeth…of blood.

When they do answer, they hate how their voice trembles. “There was just nowhere left for me to go.”

He makes a displeased hum somewhere behind them. He isn’t a fan of their vagueness. “So ending up back in my stomach…seemed better?”

They freeze, heart hammering at those words. They slouch sideways in the seat faced away from him, eyes tracing idly over the torn passenger seat, the backpack, the ruined door frame.   “Don’t” is all they can say, the words more a plea than a demand.

He tilts his head, blinking at the almost mumbled words. “Don’t what? Eat you?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he can hear their heart, he can sense the tension they hold, the fear. Delicious…But , no.

He exhales and crosses his arms, looking away from them. “Don’t worry about it for now. You’re not worth eating in your current state anyway.” he isn’t sure why he had to word it that way.

That does not comfort them. They feel a bit sick, actually.  They pull one of the strips of venison from their bag and gnaw on it slowly, savoring the taste and allowing the motion to soothe them just a tad.

“What happened to your car?”

They hesitate to answer, the sound of metal bending and twisting loud in their mind. They consider lying and decide it wasn’t worth the upkeep. “A giant.”

He had figured from the smell, but it was still weird to hear. “You’re pretty lucky aint ya. Meeting two giants and still kickin around.: he snorts.

“Five - and a werewolf″ they correct.

He pauses, baffled. “Five? Wait a werewolf?”

They take a chunk from the jerky, giving themselves time to think, to wonder if they wanted to say anymore. Those nights weighed heavy on them, like water drenched clothes dragging them down and clawing them under.

“The first night after I left, I woke to my door being torn off - like someone opening a can of sardines. There was only the one. Some people showed up, called themselves monster hunters - they killed her and took me back to their…base? I guess?" A pause, they neglect to tell him she'd ate them - or about how they almost died. “Told me the monsters had teamed up and overwhelmed the cities to try and destroy humanity.”

It’s his turn to be breathless now. “No shit?” he breathes out, “So the stories were true, then…”

“What stories?” they ask, twisting around to face him.

He’s speechless a moment, unsure how to word it.

“There are stories we giants tell, of a time when monsters will rule the earth again. They tell of our new lives among the ashes of mankind.”

Ah…Context. Well that certainly didn’t make their current predicament any better. Part of them had hoped maybe they were just being cynical - that there really was somewhere else to go, that maybe, just over some other hill laid a less fatal future. Guess they could stop trying to fool themselves now.

They sag in their seat and contemplate their jerky strip. Guess this was them now, too, huh…Some tasty treat for this giant to eat whenever he got the munchies - and if not him, one of the many other things prowling the darkness now.

They force themselves to continue gnawing on the stick of meat. “Yea…They mentioned something like that…” they finally mutter. They sigh.

"Anyway….” they hesitate to continue.

“Go on” he prods.

They make a displeased noise. “The base was this…sorta warehouse turned to a base. Lot more hunters - and a section for 'civilians'." They recall the darker halves of the warehouse, the smell of metal and concrete, of sweat and people falling away to blood and terror. "I uh, have a habit of being where I shouldn't be."

He snort-chuckles in agreement.

"Deeper in the place, there were cages and blood - and inside one of the cages was a wolf. Not like - an actual wolf - a big one, with long arms - and thumbs. Ya know…a werewolf."

"Anyway…stayed in that place for…a week? Time's hard to keep track of…"

"- Then the monsters came….a lot of them - I think- I didn't stick around to see what all those noises were - it was…a lot….I used the opportunity to free the werewolf and bailed - found my truck and off we went…" they remember the screaming, the sounds of bones breaking, of gun fire and angry shouts.

"I picked up a few people on the way…and it was just me, the wolf, and a few refugees with nowhere to go."

They chuckle darkly, remembering trying so hard to have hope, to keep the others on the brightside. "I thought, maybe, we had a chance, we did alright for a few days…Then They found us - a group of giants with nothing better to do I guess. I-"

This part gets tricky. "So much happened so fast. It's hard to remember…It was the werewolf who saved me…" they lie. "I don't know what happened to the others…He told me to run - and I did."

They sigh sadly "And now, here I am." They gesture, unease filling them. "Back where I started and probably just going right back into somethings guts…"

He had listened in silence, head tilted, soaking in the tale, and now, as they finished, he realized they were perhaps hoping for some sort of comfort. They didn't say it, but he could feel it. He exhales lazily. "That's…a lot." He looks away, thinking. "Well, you don't have to worry about anything else eating you."

They look up at him, green eyes meeting green, brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and hope. Oh how they dared hope, even now…

"Because you're my prey." He says with a grin, kneeling down to run the back of his finger over their cheek. "And I don't like sharing."

This does not comfort them at all.

[gutouhua]

ao3 / tip jar / comms open

wc: 5.3k+

tags: mentions of lbh & lqg, heavily implied bingqiu, mbj has horns, mentions of eating animal meat, mbj gives sqh bj & hj, some nipple play, mbj slaps sqh's ass like twice, spite & cum as lube, cum eating/swallowing, size kink, some dirty talk, mild urethra play if you squint (nothing inserted inside), multiple orgasms, anal sex, anal fingering, cockwarming, love at first sight for mbj, possessive mbj, we ignore canon and pretend their first time together was amazing, au, not beta read we die like s2 svsss

a/n: don't squint too hard at this, it's just my excuse to write this couple having hot seggs yeah. also i couldn't come up with a good title so here we are with this generic title :3 will probably maybe go back and edit this ;-;

“You are pretty too.” And he was, immensely so. So pretty, in fact, that he was the epitome of perfection in Shang Qinghua’s eyes. He’d never seen someone so much like his ideal type – never wanted to fuck someone so badly.

But he was not going to admit all that.

The diplomatic gala was exactly what Shang Qinghua thought it would be: a matchmaking spectacle with everyone packed onto the floor like sardines and fluffed up like gaudy peacocks.

And he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

Shang Qinghua made a beeline for a server with a drink, ignoring the protests of his brother, Shen Qingqiu, and retreated to the corner to avoid human interaction. He most definitely did not want some impressionable young man or woman to think he was interested in them just because he was chatting politely and then have them send a formal marriage proposal along with a caravan of jewels and treasures come tomorrow morning. He shuddered at the thought.

He was about to down his third glass of wine for the night when he noticed a man, or rather, a demon, on the fringes of the crowd. Sapphire eyes and a sharp, aristocratic nose sat on a stony-faced pale blue canvas typical of the demons of the Red Lands. His shiny black hair was braided into a long tail down the back with silver-tipped horns jutting out from his thick mane. In the middle of his forehead was a dark blue demon mark – the mark of a Red Lands aristocrat.

He was stunningly attractive and exactly Shang Qinghua’s type: a pretty face with (what he liked to call it) a refrigerator body.

Mhm, delicious.

Suddenly, Shang Qinghua didn’t think this gala was a completely idiotic idea after all.

But he had no time to consider his gorgeous demon before someone announced that dinner was beginning soon, so he shuffled into the great dining hall and plopped into an ornate seat with his name labeled carefully on the back.

Shen Qingqiu took his seat next to him shortly, sighing deeply with his fan waving in short, quick motions despite the fact that it was quite chilly in the room.

“What took you so long?” Qinghua teased.

Shen Qingqiu only fanned harder, looking at him tiredly. “The banquet has not even officially begun, and I am already being run ragged.”

Shang Qinghua arched a fine brow, already knowing the answer. “The women?”

“And men.” He nodded tiredly.

“Well, that’s to be expected seeing as you’re the most eligible bachelor on the content. Well,” Shang Qinghua paused. “Aside from the demon king. But who would want to marry that barbarous man when you're around?”

“I am glad to see you have so much confidence in your brother, but sometimes I find that Mobei-jun has an easier time and it would be better to be him instead.”

“Mobei-jun?”

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu amended. “Mobei-jun is the king of the Red Lands.”

“And you are on a first-name basis with him?” Shang Qinghua wondered when his brother got close enough to the demon king to call him so casually.

“A secret,” Shen Qingqiu chided him. “But don’t tell anyone. He doesn’t like to be called by that name, but I do it anyway.”

His brother was insufferable. “Can he not have you killed for that?”

“He loves me too much to do that.”

“Huh, so my brother does indeed have a secret love life that I don’t know about. I’m hurt.”

“Hmph, if only I had one.”

“What was that?” Shang Qinghua asked.

Shen Qingqiu looked away, suddenly finding the design on the plate before him to be very interesting. “Noth-”

“That was not nothing!” He interrupted. “You said–”

Heavy doors creaked open to reveal their dinner host and the room fell to a hush as if everyone had drawn one collective breath and was holding it in. And then he saw him – that beautiful horned demon. Shang Qinghua could not tear his eyes away from him and it appeared that everyone else felt the same.

The demon king made his way to the head of the table and turned his head toward Shang Qinghua’s direction, blue eyes piercing through him. “Shall we,” an icy-honeyed voice rolled through the room, “begin dinner?”

Everyone let out their breaths at the same time: the servants began moving and plating food, aristocrats turned toward their neighbors for conversation, and Shen Qingqiu began fending off the two women seated closest to them.

Shang Qinghua looked down at the table, cheeks burning from the encounter. Was he staring at me? Impossible. Why would he be looking at me? We've never met before and it’s not as if I'm the most handsome man or woman in the room – in fact, far from it. Ah, he’s so hot. I really want to jump his bones, but now that I know who he is…it seems almost impossible for me to do that. And he wouldn’t want me either. By the stars, he’s so attractive though and–

Shen Qingqiu broke off from the women for a moment after he noticed that Qinghua wasn’t eating. “Brother, is the food not to your liking? You’ve never been one to shy away from stuffing your face at banquets.”

Qinghua was too preoccupied to take note of his teasing, instead too focused on trying to stop his cheeks from burning. He was glad that the lighting was dim so that his brother wouldn’t tease him for it. “I think the king was staring at me just now.”

The meat on Shen Qingqiu’s silver fork balanced precariously mid-air on the edge of the prongs. “Why do you think he was staring at you?”

“Because his eyes were on me and in my direction? Pupils trained on me?” Shang Qinghua wasn’t some sheltered member of royalty. No, he knew when someone had their gaze on him. Had learned to feel and recognize it.

Shen Qingqiu put the meat in his mouth and chewed while humming. “Perhaps, when he saw you, he thought you the most beautiful person in the room and couldn’t help but stare at you.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Shang Qinghua almost burst out laughing before realizing that doing so would be highly inappropriate in the current situation so he stifled the urge by shoving a piece of lamb in his mouth. “If that is what he thinks, then he must be blind or a fool.”

“Why?”

Shang Qinghua pointed at himself as if it was obvious. “Because I am clearly not the most eye-catching person here. If he thinks so, then there must be something wrong with him. There are plenty of others here that are a hundred, no, a thousand times more beautiful than I am. I'm very plain and have no delusions about my appearance. A five out of ten on a good day. You know this, brother.”

Shen Qingqiu shook his head. “I do not, Qinghua. You must have more confidence in yourself. You are as beautiful if not even more beautiful than them.”

Qinghua knew his brother was trying to cheer him up, but it didn’t really make him feel any better. “That does not count," he muttered.

“Are you saying a king’s opinion is null?”

“Yes, when the king is my brother.” Shang Qinghua argued back while shoving a potato in his mouth.

“Hmph, then shall we ask our dinner host what his opinion is?”

“No!” Qinghua said quickly. “Why would you even ask him? He wouldn’t care about something trivial like this.”

Shen Qingqiu smirked at him. “So you care about his opinion of you? Are you smitten by him?”

“Absolutely not.” His answer was swift. “He looks so stoic and boring, and I want nothing to do with him.” But there was no mistaking the scarlet running across Shang Qinghua’s cheekbones.

“Dear brother, there is no need to fret. I won’t ask him that.”

Shang Qinghua visibly deflated in relief.

“At least in public.”

“What!”

“Don’t ‘what’ me! I’m only asking him for his opinion!” Shen Qingqiu said in defense.

“But I don’t want you to,” he whined.

“It’s a question from a friend to another friend. For curiosity’s sake. After all, you doubt my opinions so I should ask for another king’s opinions, should I not?”

Shang Qinghua groaned. “You are so embarrassing. Then please at least do it when I’m not in your presence.”

“Can’t promise that.” Shen Qingqiu skewered another piece of meat and put it in his mouth. “We’re going to go see him later and that might be my only chance to ask him before we leave.”

“What?” Shang Qinghua almost dropped his fork in his lap, barely catching it before the sauce dirtied his clothes. “What do you mean? You never told me we were going to have a private audience with him,” he hissed.

His brother looked innocently at him. “Did Liu Qingge not tell you? Hm, I should punish him for insubordination.”

Shang Qinghua would’ve bared his teeth at his brother if they had not been in public. “Don’t lie! You’re probably the one who told him not to tell me!” He cut his meat with heated anger, sawing at the poor tenderloin while imagining it to be Shen Qingqiu.

“Be nicer to the meat, Qinghua, what did it ever do to you?”

“Everything,” he seethed while continuing to knife the meat. “You know I hate socializing with aristocrats and now you want me to socialize with a king? And on top of it, with one I’ve never even met before! Are you out of your mind?” But at the same time, Shang Qinghua was hoping that he could somehow get into that demon king’s robes. If only.

“Brother, I just want him to meet you. And like what you said, you’ve never met him before. How are we to maintain good relations with the Red Lands if you never meet their king?”

We were doing just fine before all this, he thought, but outwardly, he agreed – it would probably be one of his only chances of meeting him. “Well, I’ll meet him, but I can’t guarantee I’ll like him.”

“That is enough for me.” Shen Qingqiu primly dabbed his mouth with a napkin, conveniently hiding a feline smile behind the fabric.

Still, Shang Qinghua looked at his brother suspiciously. Shen Qingqiu was oddly acquiescent today, but his appetite was back now so he focused on stuffing as much food in his mouth to avoid any further conversation from his brother and any neighboring aristocrats.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

After dinner, Shang Qinghua was escorted to the king’s study room. His brother had promised to be there later, but if the demon prince Luo Binghe hanging off his arm like an oversized puppy was any indication of what was going to transpire, Shang Qinghua knew his brother had left him to fend for himself.

But no matter. Shang Qinghua could deal with a lone demon king. Probably.

So Shang Qinghua sat in his plush seat before the king’s desk, obediently waiting for the king despite wanting nothing more than to go back to his room and sleep. The food coma was kicking in and combined with the relaxing incense, warm draft, and comfortable seat, Qinghua was about to sleep and–

“Prince of the Black Lands, Shang Qinghua.”

He bolted straight up, turning dizzily to find the source of the deep voice. Blue eyes glowed in the shadows before Mobei-jun seemed to materialize in front of him, a flurry of fur and black robes, ice and dominance.

“D-Demon King.”

Mobei-jun frowned. “So it seems that moniker is more popular than I thought.”

Shang Qinghua tried something different. Maybe he didn’t like being called ‘demon king.’ “My king?”

Mobei-jun showed no indication of his feelings aside from a grunt.

‘My king’ would have to do then. Shang Qinghua certainly wouldn’t dare to call a stranger, who was a king no less, by their given name.

“Where is your brother? I am told I would be meeting the two of you.”

“Ah, he–” Shang Qinghua paused, trying to find a good way to word it. “He was last seen with your brother. I’m not sure what business he has with him.”

“Hmph.” Mobei-jun grumbled. “Your fiend of a brother with that brother of mine who's always so clingy and horny...I know exactly what he’s doing with your brother. Or rather, to your brother.”

Shang Qinghua was pretty sure his jaw would’ve been wide open in shock if he wasn’t in the presence of a foreign king right now. “I-I apologize for my brother’s actions. He’s been known to fall prey to pretty faces. And your brother does have one…”

“What about me?” The question was sudden and unexpected.

“What?”

Mobei-jun repeated himself. “What about me?”

“You?” Shang Qinghua squeaked out. “You want my opinion of you?”

He nodded, looking expectantly at him. It was a command and it was to be answered regardless. Fine. He would tell this king what he wanted to hear.

“You are pretty too.” And he was, immensely so. So pretty, in fact, that he was the epitome of perfection in Shang Qinghua’s eyes. He’d never seen someone so much like his ideal type – never wanted to fuck someone so badly.

But he was not going to admit all that.

“Shang Qinghua, come closer.” Mobei-jun's eyes bore deep into Qinghua, so deep that he felt an ache in his soul.

He inched closer to him but kept his distance.

“Closer.”

A scoot forward.

“Closer.” This time there was impatience in his voice.

Qinghua moved so close he could feel the demon king’s cold aura radiate in waves. He shivered when he felt cold winds trail dangerously close to him.

“Tell me the truth,” he murmured. And there it was again, that piercing, cold gaze that seemed to numb Shang Qinghua – and make him want to do anything Mobei-jun said.

“You are indeed very pretty, my king. Very handsome – there is nothing you lack in looks.”

“But there is something I lack?” Mobei-jun was not angry, merely curious.

One would be hard-pressed to find something Mobei-jun lacked. He was the demon king of the Red Lands, after all, with dominion over all in the land and unparalleled powers. His handsome features and muscled physique was not lost on Shang Qinghua either. But if there was something he lacked…

“Softness.” Shang Qinghua ventured hesitantly. “You lack softness, my king.”

“Hmph.” Mobei-jun rearranged his heavy robes and shed the outer layer, perfuming the air with his spicy peppermint scent that seemed to grow stronger with each layer he removed. “I can be soft.”

Shang Qinghua doubted that such a stern-looking demon known for his harshness could be soft, but he did not want his brother to get mad at him for making the demon king angry. So he kept his mouth shut.

Mobei-jun narrowed his eyes. “You do not believe me?”

Shang Qinghua rushed to reassure him. Already, his plan to seduce and appease was failing. “Of course, I believe you, my king!”

“Mobei-jun," he demanded.

“W-what?”

“That is my name – call me that.” It was a command. There would be no room for discussion.

“Yes, my king.”

“Mobei-jun.”

“Mobei-jun,” Shang Qinghua muttered.

The king – no, it was Mobei-jun now, smiled upon hearing his name, revealing white, gleaming teeth. “And I can show you softness if you will allow me.”

Shang Qinghua nodded (for what else was he supposed to do) and kept his eyes trained on those pointed teeth. Mobei-jun brought pale lips and sharp teeth to his face, and Shang Qinghua felt like he was going to faint. By the stars, the demon king was going to eat him.

But what came was not the rip of flesh and hot blood, but spicy peppermint and tenderness – Mobei-jun pressed his lips against Qinghua’s, nipping lightly at the edges while slowly rimming the seam of his warm lips with his cold tongue. The heady combination of Mobei-jun’s spicy scent and cool lips relaxed Shang Qinghua so much that he didn’t even notice when Mobei-jun slipped his tongue in between his, eagerly seeking out Qinghua’s tongue in a tangle of flesh and saliva – as if he wanted to mate their tongues together until they became one.

Shang Qinghua was sure he was drooling at this point and looking very undignified but Mobei-jun tasted too good to let go and who knew when he’d be able to kiss such a delicious man again – if ever? So he gripped his sharp horns, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction when the demon groaned against his lips, tongue faltering ever so slightly in its frantic dance.

Ah, so his horns are sensitive.

It was too good of an opportunity to pass up: Shang Qinghua slid his hands down to the base of Mobei-jun’s horns and scratched lightly, causing the king to pull back from the kiss, leaving a light string of saliva in the wake of their passion. They were both gasping now and Mobei-jun’s cold eyes were most certainly anything but cold now.

“D-Don’t touch my horns. They’re very sensitive.” He shuddered as if the thought of it was overwhelming.

Shang Qinghua let out a small smile. “But my king, they are so very pretty – how can I neglect them?”

If he noticed that Shang Qinghua had reverted back to calling him ‘my king,’ he made no comment about it. Instead, Mobei-jun turned, blushing lightly. “Still, for us demons, touching someone’s horns is like…” He trailed off, too embarrassed to say the rest.

“Touching someone’s penis?” Shang Qinghua pretended to guess. He was an avid reader and writer, those words were like child’s play to him. No word was too crude. Just unused and untried. “Dick? Cock?” His smile grew wider when Mobei-jun visibly squirmed under those words.

“Yes,” Mobei-jun mumbled.

“Hm, then I should touch them more, shouldn’t I? Does it not feel good?”

“It does.” He replied with a small pout. Then he paused for a second, looking heatedly at Shang Qinghua with those cold, sapphire eyes. “But I’d rather make you feel good.”

How could anyone have mistaken this demon for being as cruel as his uncle?

Shang Qinghua prostrated himself in mock deference to Mobei-jun with palms pressed against the floor, forehead resting above his hands. “Your wish is my command, my king. How do you wish to have me?”

The demon picked Shang Qinghua up in one fluid motion before setting him down gently on sumptuous silk bedding as if he had plucked a delicate flower and was trying to keep it from wilting. He pulled a pillow over and gently tucked it under Shang Qinghua’s hips while Qinghua began pulling off his many layers of clothing. And when Shang Qinghua was laid bare for his king’s pleasure, Mobei-jun kneeled in between his legs, unmoving, like a beautiful icy statue.

Shang Qinghua was confused. Wasn’t this the part where they would fuck like bunnies until the morning? “What’s wrong?”

“I–” Mobei-jun swallowed thickly. “I want to commit your image to memory. To burn it into my eyes, my mind, my entire soul until you are all I think about, all I see, and all I remember.”

“T-That’s nice,” Shang Qinghua stuttered, brain shortcircuiting from the intense romancing he was receiving today. “But why don’t we focus on other things first.” His dick twitched in agreement.

Mobei-jun pulled his gaze down, focusing intently. “Yes, other things,” he murmured.

The bed dipped low as he lowered himself to the bed and pushed Qinghua’s thighs apart before planting a languid, cool kiss directly on the tip of his cock where precum leaked.

Shang Qinghua's hips rose instinctually off the pillow as if offering himself to Mobei-jun, and he moaned hard. “Ah, my king.”

Mobei-jun decided then and there that he liked it when Shang Qinghua moaned for him so he kissed his cock again, licking the full length in order to not waste any of his Qinghua’s precious seed. Slowly, he lapped at the fat tip before working it into his mouth, savoring and licking each ridge and vein, careful to give the whole length equal attention.

Shang Qinghua’s dick was not nearly as big as his, nor any other demons for that matter, so despite swallowing it whole – so that his nose bumped against Qinghua’s smooth tummy – it did not reach the back of his throat. But Mobei-jun didn’t mind since it was just another reminder of how cute and small his little human prince was.

As Mobei-jun continued to bob his head along Shang Qinghua’s cock, relishing the musky floral scent flooding his senses and the pretty cries of his human prince, Qinghua’s hips began to fervently push against his mouth, moans growing louder. Mobei-jun couldn’t help reaching up to tweak a pinky nipple – it was so perky and hard that it was almost impossible for him to ignore. The way it stiffened in the air was almost as if it was reaching for his attention. He could not ignore it.

Shang Qinghua came as soon as Mobei-jun pinched his nipple, unable to stop himself from spilling himself in Mobei-jun’s mouth from the combined sensation.

“Ha, fuck, that felt so good,” he panted.

Mobei-jun smiled against Qinghua’s cock, pleased with the fact that he was able to make him cum. He swallowed the semen that sat warmly in his mouth – so warm that it almost burned his cool throat – and spit some of it out on his hand, the creamy liquid spiraling with his pale blue saliva to create an erotic mixture of body fluids.

Shang Qinghua looked down in embarrassment and flushed deeply. “You didn’t have to swallow it, my king. You could’ve just spit it out.”

“And let such precious seed go to waste? That would not be a very kingly thing to do, Shang Qinghua.”

There was absolutely nothing kingly about this entire situation, but Shang Qinghua didn’t bother pointing that out.

“And besides,” Mobei-jun continued, as he gently rolled Qinghua over so that the pillow was under his stomach now. “I need it for you. It won’t feel good if there’s nothing in there. It’ll hurt.” He frowned, pondering the idea. “You do know how sex between two men works, do you not, Shang Qinghua? Or is that not something they teach the humans of the Black Lands? Perhaps I should stop for now and–”

“No!” He’d perish if Mobei-jun stopped. “Of course they do!”

Mobei-jun slapped Qinghua’s ass lightly, pale cheeks turning the loveliest shade of pink. He would have to do that more often if Shang Qinghua allowed him. “Then behave,” he ordered.

Shang Qinghua promptly shut up.

Mobei-jun looked at the mixture in his palm – it wasn’t quite the amount he wanted so he spitted into his palm again until he was pleased with the amount before spreading Shang Qinghua’s ass to drip the saliva-mixed cum over Qinghua’s puckered hole. Mobei-jun let out a groan as it twitched as if to suck everything in. He slowly pushed a finger inside, lightly massaging Shang Qinghua’s rim, testing the small space, before he added another finger and then a third, making sure everything was slippery and wet and ready for him.

Shang Qinghua whimpered against the stretch, but it still wasn’t enough for him. “Please, my king, more. I need more.” I need you.

“Wait.” Mobei-jun’s tone was patient. “You are not ready yet.” He ignored his straining cock – rushing things would make the experience unpleasant. There would be opportunities later for him to take Qinghua fast and hard, but today was not the day.

Mobei-jun continued his slow thrusts in and out of Shang Qinghua’s hole until he could comfortably slide his fingers knuckles deep. Already, he could tell it would be a tight fit (demons and humans were not the most compatible), but he knew that his human prince would be able to take him. He slid his fingers out, enjoying the lewd squelch Qinghua’s ass made and used what remained of the mixture to coat his hard shaft, careful to cover every last inch while holding himself in. He was so ready to spill himself, but he would only do so in Shang Qinghua.

“Qinghua,” Mobei-jun said softly, gently prying open his ass cheeks to rest his heavy length against soft, peachy globes. Again, he itched to slap it, to make it blush bright red and see Qinghua twitch – he knows that his human prince would writhe so beautifully before him – but that would be for another time. “Are you okay? Ready for me?”

Underneath him, Shang Qinghua moaned and unconsciously pushed his ass towards Mobei-jun’s hips, seeking friction against his aching hole while Mobei-jun continued to rub his cock between his ass. His voice came out as a shaky breath. “Yes, my king, please, put it in.”

Being at his limit and unable to reject such a desperate request from his human prince, Mobei-jun began to carefully slide himself into Shang Qinghua, gritting his teeth when he felt a vise-like grip around his cock, eyes watering when he filled Qinghua completely with his balls resting against his perineum.

“Ha, Qinghua, you’re so tight.”

Shang Qinghua’s response came out in ragged breaths. “And you’re…you’re so big.”

Mobei-jun smiled and gripped Qinghua’s lithe hips. “Humans are so tiny that there is no helping it. And bigger only means I can fill you better.”

Compared to the veiled riddles that humans often spoke in, demons were so straightforward. Shang Qinghua buried his face in the pillows, trying to ignore the embarrassment he felt – there was nothing to be embarrassed about since they were already in such a compromising situation, but he felt it nonetheless. No one had ever been this straightforward with him before, not even his own brother.

“Just move,” he grumbled.

“Your wish is my command, Qinghua.” But Mobei-jun dragged his thick cock out of Shang Qinghua at what felt like a snail’s pace and thrust slowly back in, continuing like this until Qinghua felt like he was going to go mad if he didn’t move any faster.

“Faster, my king, you move too slow.”

“Oh? Then you have to tell this king exactly how you want it. Go ahead.” Mobei-jun caught Qinghua’s lips in his, sucking his tongue lightly. “Qinghua,” he whispered, voice so honeyed that Shang Qinghua was pretty sure it’d be impossible to deny him anything. “Tell me what you want.”

Qinghua gulped. It was his turn to be shy now. He hesitated. “I want…I want you to move faster. Inside me.”

“What part of me do you want to move faster inside you? My fingers?” He began to pull his length out stopping when Shang Qinghua whined and reached for his hips.

“No,” he whimpered, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. “I want your…cock.”

That’s all it takes for Mobei-jun to slam his hips into Shang Qinghua’s. “Of course, you can have my cock, Qinghua. You can have it in whatever,” he pulled out only to thrust back inside harshly again, “Way you like.”

Qinghua swayed underneath the force, moaning hard when Mobei-jun began to pound rhythmically into him, breath catching when he hit a particularly soft spot deep inside him. He continued to press his face into the pillow, clenching the sheets around him while focusing on the delicious weight above him and the cold hands that circled his waist.

He was getting close, so close – he could tell by the way his cock ached fiercely and hung heavy in between his thighs. He just needed a little bit more to tide him over the edge so he reached down to grip his length, pumping roughly while fondling his sensitive tip.

“Don’t do that.” Mobei-jun panted.

“W-Why?” Even he could hear the ache in his voice. “I’m so close.”

Mobei-jun narrowed his eyes. “Your pleasure can come from no one but me,” he said harshly. “I’ll do it.”

He pushed Shang Qinghua’s hands away to grasp his length, causing Qinghua to jolt at the cool fingers against his hot, throbbing dick. “Ah, fuck,” he gasped. “That feels so good – just like that, keep rubbing it hard.”

Mobei-jun wouldn’t have stopped even if his life depended on it. Qinghua’s cock felt so good in his hands that he didn’t even want to stop. “Does it feel good, Qinghua? Which do you like better? My mouth or my hand?” He lowered himself so that his lips brushed the tips of Qinghua’s ear. “Or my cock?”

Too fucked out of his mind from Mobei-jun’s continuous thrusting, Shang Qinghua could only pant out a haphazard reply. “My king, ah, fuck I–, a-all of them feels good. They all feel good.” Mobei-jun squeezed particularly hard then, pushing lightly against Qinghua’s urethra so that cum seeped out. “Shit, ah, I’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna, gonna cum.”

“Then cum.”

His whispered command made the coil in Shang Qinghua snap, and he came so hard he swore he saw stars. Mobei-jun grunted when he felt Qinghua’s slick pool in his palm and seep through his fingers. Anything that came from his Qinghua was precious though, so he brought his fingers to his lips, taking the time to lick it clean off his hands.

“A-again!” Shang Qinghua flushed deeply. “You don’t have to do that…”

“But I want to.” And he was serious about it. Everything that came from Qinghua was a priceless treasure. And Mobei-jun wanted to rip another pretty orgasm from his Qinghua and find release for himself, so he continued to fuck Shang Qinghua through his orgasm, rutting his hips against his. “Qinghua,” he asked. “Can you give me another one?”

Surely another one would be too much. “I-I don’t think so, my king.” Shang Qinghua clenched hard when Mobei-jun slid deep inside. “I-It’s too much.”

“I think you can give me another one though? I want to see your pretty face when you come undone for me. Will you cum for me?”

Such sweet, warm words from such a cold person. How could Shang Qinghua resist his king? “I–”

Mobei-jun could feel Qinghua’s hole ripple against his hard length, milking him, bringing him closer to release. His Qinghua would only need a little more coaxing.

“You take my cock so well, Qinghua, so tight, so pretty and pliant for me. Will you give me another orgasm? I want to feel you squeeze my cock – only then will I cum. After you.”

Shang Qinghua squeezed his eyes shut. Damn this man and his dirty yet flowery words – he knew just how to get to him. He felt his release a few seconds later, his dick throbbing hard from the consecutive orgasm before Mobei-jun suddenly pulled him up into a sitting position to rest his back against his hard chest.

“Ah,” Shang Qinghua gasped. “What are you doing?” In this position, Mobei-jun sank deeper inside him, so deep that his cock seemed to press against Qinghua’s prostate. “My king, if you do that, I’ll–” Mobei-jun didn’t say anything but Shang Qinghua could feel him get bigger before his hips stuttered and he felt hot liquid spill against his prostate at the same time Mobei-jun bit his neck hard, making Shang Qinghua cum a third time. “I’ll c-cum,” he wailed.

Mobei-jun rocked beneath him, riding out his high while Qinghua lay limply in his arms. “Ah fuck, Qinghua, you felt so good.”

At this point, Shang Qinghua was too tired to do anything. He rested against Mobei-jun’s cool chest while Mobei-jun gently moved him so he was laying down, adjusting the pillows and blankets so they could rest comfortably. He left his cock inside Shang Qinghua the entire time, and Qinghua wondered when he was going to take his cock out, but even when he softened and had settled into the blanket and his breathing slowed, he did not take it out.

“My king?”

“Yes, Qinghua?”

Was this something he could say? Or would Mobei-jun get mad? Shang Qinghua decided he’d say it anyway. “Are you going to take it out?”

Mobei-jun slit his eye open. “Take what out?”

“Your…dick.”

“Of course not, what a silly question.” He shut his eye, dragging Qinghua closer to his chest, and said nothing else – as if the argument was finished.

Shang Qinghua didn’t really mind – he just felt a bit stuffed down there and full (he wasn’t used to it), but it felt oddly good, and he supposed this wasn’t going to be a common occurrence, so he let Mobei-jun be.

“Goodnight then, my king.”

Mobei-jun huffed.

It was only when Shang Qinghua fell asleep did Mobei-jun dare to speak.

“Goodnight, Shang Qinghua.” And then, after a pause, and in a low voice, as if he was afraid someone would hear him, he said, “I have loved you since the moment I met you…eight years ago on that fated night. And I will never let you go now that you are in my grasp.”

red lands & black lands come from egyptian mythology - set ruled over the red lands and Horus ruled over the black lands to balance each other out.

i just realized that i have a terrible habit of making things one-shots but putting tidbits of info that make you wonder what happened to warrant that info & whatnot (like the flashback in my previous chilumi fic *cries*).

anyway, moshang nation come get your crumbs!

come yell at/with me on the bird app (where i'm more active)

[kurinoot]

dinner’s ready

🎉 HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ISSEI “HORSECOCK” MATSUKAWA! 🎉

pairing: matsukawa issei x pussy-owning reader

themes: [shameless] smut, 18+ mdni, post-timeskip, birthday boy issei, sexting, [slight] daddy kink, oral sex (m! receiving), rough sex, creampie, implied breeding, some aftercare if u squint uwu, just Issei calling you ‘baby girl’

wc: 2.6k

note: I know I’m not done with the valentines’ specials and the upcoming white day specials, but I was too tempted to write this anyways bc it’s my bb issei’s special day today uwu he deserves some good food birthday gift. also, this is my first smut in YEARS so please bear with me whew. also, rated spg under the cut uwu. and ALSO, thank you to @india-katsuki, @karasunomygod, @ssrated1volleyballplayer​, and @fuckinuchihas from the hqhq server for checking and proofreading this one hell of a pussy clencher ack

chant: 🎼 drip by asiahn

“Finally.”, Matsukawa sighs as he straightens up his clothes, finally glad that his shift is coming to an end. He checks his things, finalizing for the next day as he packs up his bag to finish the day and finally get a good night’s rest.

Or so he thought.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket catches him off-guard as he walks on his way to the nearest train station, fishing it out as he opens it to the sight of your text message.

baby girl: happy birthday, Issei my love! Preparing your birthday present atm hehe hope ya like it ;)

A smile draws out of his face as he hastily replies, typing out an ‘I can’t wait, baby girl!’ as he approaches the train station in a hurry to try and avoid the rush hour as much as possible; In which his efforts proved to be futile as a massive flood of passengers all went into the train, rendering them like a full can of sardines. Barely but luckily, he managed to get a tight spot for him to fit in as the train door closed in on him before the train moved again and went on.

The trip was silent, with more grunts and voices of “Excuse Me!” being heard as people constantly squeezed themselves in the jam-packed train. Issei was no different, changing and adjusting positions one at a time as passengers came and went out each station up until there were actual seats for him to sit down. As soon as seats become available, he takes the advantage for him to at least get a couple minutes of rest before he reaches his station. In the meantime, he grabs his phone back from the depths of his pocket, which vibrates in notification as soon as his hand reaches it.

To his delight, you replied back with a photo, which he could only see unlocked which he did and the next thing he knew, he was looking at a photo of your legs spread, which unraveled your bare glistening cunt in all your glory for him to see. He feels all blood drain all the color on his face as he instantly feels it all rush down to his now throbbing cock as he grapples his sling bag to desperately cover his growing and straining hard-on. He turns off his phone in the meantime, afraid of draining all of his self-control in public, as well as becoming increasingly conscious of the possible prying eyes on the photo that is currently haunting and deeply imprinting in his mind. He waits a couple more minutes long before another slew of messages from you finally nails the coffin for him.

baby girl: dinner’s getting ready and the only thing needed left is Daddy~ ;)

baby girl: I’ll be waiting ;)

“Fuck, such a tease.��, he lowly mutters in frustration, half-way tempted to ease the pain on his crotch.

That’s it, baby girl. You are so going to get it. he growls in his mind as he makes it in his station just at the right moment, still in one piece. The situation doesn’t help his throbbing crotch as he inconveniently walks past the train door hastily, feeling its tight strain on his pants as he covers it with his sling bag.

He thanks the gods as he finally reaches the doorsteps of your shared apartment unit, breathing heavily both at the way he rushed over and at his cock that was now threatening to pop out of his pants. With a pant, he reaches for the doorknob, opening it to the direct view of you on your back, preparing in the kitchen sans clothing except a frilly deep red apron that barely even covers the peaks of your nipples.

And don’t get him started with your plump ass.

You immediately hear the door open to the sounds of Issei’s footsteps, not looking back as you still prepare dinner for both you and him.

“Ah, Issei! I’m still preparing our dinner but if you’d like there are some leftovers on the table-”

He cuts you off as he violently gropes your bare ass, deliciously cupping your already wet lips as his lengthy fingers graze on its lining. You let out a yelp as you dropped the ladle you were holding in accident, desperately gripping the kitchen counter edge as the sudden intrusion of his fingers left you trembling.

“I-Issei! I-”

“I just came home and I haven’t even fingered you and yet you’re this wet for me, baby girl? Were you too excited for Daddy’s birthday today?”, he hotly whispers in your ear, biting and licking your lobe as he continues his assault on your cunt, leaving you a crying, whimpering mess.

“D-Daddy-”

“Fuck, you’re getting tighter there, baby girl.”, he grunts as your walls clenched tighter on his grazing fingers. With the other unoccupied hand, he unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, freeing his painfully swollen cock, leaking with pre-cum as he feels all the suffering and enduring from the train earlier lift off his crotch. Much to your disappointment, his fingers slowly went out of your wet cavern, but his next words left your knees weak and body shivering.

“Kneel.”

You silently face him, albeit still reeling from the assault on your pussy, keeping your eyes on him as you obliged, kneeling to the view of his protruding cock. He rubs his hard member with the strings of your slick left on his used fingers as he preps you, rubbing your lips together as he ushers you to take him with your mouth. Getting the cue, you open them only for him to thrust inside you with speed as he grips your hair tight, triggering your gag reflex.

Issei begins thrusting relentlessly into your mouth, reaching the back of your throat as he releases a series of grunts—a cathartic indication of his earlier pent-up frustration as he closes his eyes, relishing the warm, wet feel of your mouth. He feels the flick of your tongue as you take him deeper and deeper than you’ve ever had before, prompting him to release a loud moan in delight. He lets his instincts take over him as he leverages his grip on your hair to control your head on his cock. Once he was sure that your gag reflex was nowhere in sight, he started shoving into your wet mouth more roughly than before, getting even harder as he drinks at the sight of you looking at him with tears in your eyes and saliva dripping from your used mouth.

“You like that, huh?” He moans out to which you could only partly nod in response.

Trying not to lose grip of him, you clutch onto his thighs trying to grip your remaining vestiges of consciousness as you pump your head back to meet his thrusts, forcing out a moan from him louder than ever before.

“Yes, baby girl! Keep doing that! Do it for Daddy.”

The impending frustration from earlier takes its impending toll as Mattsun knew he wasn’t going to last any longer. He shoves with greater force, feeling the precipice coming closer as you can only moan in cries at the sudden change of pace. He cries out loud as he spurts his thick loads into your mouth, stuttering his hips and grunting in pleasure before stilling as he lodges himself into your throat. 

Like the good girl you are, you swallowed them greedily, sucking out everything and leaving no traces of it behind. After a full minute of intense breathing, Issei could only watch you dazed, breathing heavily as he became more turned on at the sight of his cum threatening to leak from your mouth as he tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to swallow it whole.

He pulls you up with your arms, moving you to a clearer space on the kitchen counter as he bends you over on your stomach, licking his fingers wet as he preps your scintillating folds.

“Just so you know, I’m not done yet, baby girl.”

“Y-You do k-know that—ah!—I’m still m-making—ah!—dinner, right?” You shiver as you feel his length rubbing against your dripping slit. You hear him scoff.

“Eh? But I thought this is dinner...”, he pants out as he slams his entire dick in one go, taking advantage of the already wet state of your folds as he turns you into a moaning and shivering mess at the sudden stretch of your core. He stutters his hips slowly and rhythmically, forcing you to feel every inch and vein of his cock as the sound of his balls slapping against you only makes you aroused even more.

He changes the pace as his thrusts grew in speed and rhythm, making you choke on your saliva at the intensity as his grip on your hips tightened, “H-Hold up t-there, Issei! N-Not so f-fast!”.

You could only grip whatever you could hold on the kitchen counter as he continuously stretches you balls deep, hitting and leaving his marks on your ass as he lets out a frustrated groan. 

“Jesus, what did you expect after sending me a picture of your cunt and then say ‘Dinner’s ready?’, huh?”.

You can only cry and moan at his statement.

“T-Thick—ah!” You wail as your knuckles turn white and you feel his thrusts increase in speed at the remark that heavily petted on his masculinity.

“Look at you taking all of me so well...”, he grunted as the developing sound of wet skin slapping increases in volume and fills your entire living space. Issei takes this as a sign as he starts rubbing your sensitive clit violently with one hand as he unties your sinful apron with the other, completely exposing your back to him.

“Oh my god, Daddy! I-I’m—ugh—wanna c-cum!”

“Then cum, baby.” He lowers himself to your ear and then leaves trails of kisses on your bare back, whispering as his words send shivers down your body. It makes you clench tighter on his girth.

The clench of your cunt against his cock leaves him desperate as he feels a coiling sensation in his lower belly, feeling that he won’t last any longer as his breathing pulsed quicker and his hips pushed further and faster, reaching out further to the deep unexplored nether regions of your walls that left you screaming and crying in bliss. 

You feel his grip tighten on your waist as he cries out your name one more time, cumming into you in thick globs as he stutters his hips at each release before he stills deep into you, making sure that each drop of his seed didn’t go to waste.

Your jaw flickers in pleasure at the increasing warmth of his cum flooding your insides as you feel him slowly pulled out of your folds, disappointed at the lack of your orgasm as he maneuvers your body face-to-face with him. He lays you down tiredly on your back at the kitchen counter as you feel achy and sore from your earlier position.

“Do you think we’re done, baby girl?” He imposes as he removes the dangling apron on your neck, throwing it on the side and finally leaving your oh-so delicious perky breasts bare to him. You swore you see his eyes darken at the sight, licking his lips as his cock stood still and hard, unbeknownst to you.

Your eyes and mouth could only bulge wide in surprise as he shoves into you impatiently for the second time around, groaning at the distilled passion of your clenching walls as he uses your combined evidence of coupling as a lubrication.

It didn’t help when Issei had started his assault on your neck, leaving trails of sensitive kisses all over up until he reached one of your pert nipples. He eagerly licks them teasingly before he devoured it all in his mouth, setting your body and mind on fire at the overstimulation.

How come he’s still hard after two orgasms?, your mind dazes.

Third time’s the charm, I guess?

“D-Daddy! Ugh! T-Too sensitive! O-Oh my god!”

Issei could only cockily laugh at your plight, sending down vibrations on your currently abused nipple which only made you cry louder in pleasure. It didn’t exactly help as he continues on his deep, torrid pumping on your already sensitive folds.

This jerk… Just because he has a thick cock...

But you weren’t complaining, really.

You cling onto his neck, graciously and tightly gripping on his thick hair as the constant waves of pleasure from the heavy pounding into your pussy leaves your eyes swollen red and throat sore. His hands threatened to leave a burning mark on your hips, grasping them tightly to keep you in place as his hips went harder and faster into you.

“Y-Yes, daddy! Right there!” You moan out loud as you felt his dick reach the more deeper, unimaginable recesses of your nether regions, ones that you never knew were reachable. With a muffled grunt, he makes sure to piston his cock in the same manner and pace, leaving you further crying and wailing in bliss.

His skillful mouth leaves your abused nipple, now thoroughly coated in saliva, exposing it to the cold air and making it harden more as his one hand leaves his vice-like grip on your waist, tending to your head as he swathes your sweat-soaked hair as he pushes his lips into yours tenderly despite the ruthless pounding happening otherwise. He feels your heart pound intensely against his chest as you felt your hard, sensitive peaks brush over his broad, muscular planes.

Your mind goes into a daze as you feel the sensory overload overwhelming you in the greatest sense. The scent of sweat and sex (and just Issei’s masculine scent, oh my Lord) as well as the sound of wet skin slapping against skin was just too much for you to process.

“I—hng—love—hng—you—hng—so much!”, Issei groans out, punctuating each word per thrust as he feels the all-too familiar burning and coiling sensation in his loins, only this time more stronger than the last time. You can only see him become more desperate for release, with his face shifting to borderline pain and his moans growing louder and desperate as you mewl louder at the sensation of his thick fingers rubbing your overworked and sensitive clit.

“I-I love you t-too, Daddy!”

“Cum with me, baby.”, he groans as spasms of pure ecstasy ran down his veins.

“D-Daddy, ugh yes!”

He releases an animalistic growl, biting down your neck in intense pleasure as he feels his cum gushing out of his system and into your femininity for the second consecutive time. Altogether, he feels the sprinkling sensation of your release as he presses your sensitive nub for the final time, with your walls clenching down on him further, leaving you both exhausted in pleasure. He stills his hips into you deep one more time all before he gently pulls his now flaccid cock out of you, with a trail of his cum threatening to spill from your overworked folds. 

With a gentle touch, he presses a couple of fingers to prevent them from spilling out before he touches your lower belly, basking at the thick amounts of his cum sloshing inside you. You moan at the gesture on your still sensitive body.

“Did that feel good, my girl?” He asks tenderly, kissing you afterwards as opposed to his animalistic behavior earlier.

“Mmmh”, you hum in agreement as Issei feels all his energy fucked out of him, laying down on your chest. You gently massage his head and went to play with his thick locks of hair.

“Well then you can say that I had a good dinner, then.”

“Well happy birthday to you, then.”

all writings in here is kurinoot’s original work. please do not repost or use it to create asmr content  ©️ 2021