#synesthetic x reader

[kissenturine]

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐀 boothill x m!reader — 3.3k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: mechanic!reader, sub!reader, reader gives boothill a dick, reader takes away his censorship, mean dom!boothill, maybe ooc!boothill, fingering, heavy heavy dirty talk, boothill calls reader a whore & slut, boothill steps on reader's dick, blowjobs (boothill receiving), degradation. lmk if i missed anything!!

KAI SAYS: boy am i down bad for this little space cowboy

As a hardworking mechanic, you often pride yourself on your accomplishments. You—like any decent one—had many. From what you worked with to what you managed to fix, there were many things that could be considered impressive to a crowd.

None of them, however, were as impressive as the time you managed to remove Boothill’s censorship and give him back what he called: “a missing piece of his heart.”

Your dimly lit mechanic shop is cluttered with tools amongst other sharp things. Scattered about every flat surface usable is a screw, nail, wire, metal board—anything you could make use of. In the centre of the workshop is the only real space you kept clean.

Sitting in the middle of the room is a large, metallic workbench. It’s impressive, to say the least. Hooked up to an uncountable number of wires, switches and knobs decorating the sides, tools hanging from hooks, everything about it is a sight to behold.

What’s more impressive—even more magnificent—is the man sitting on top of it.

With his legs sprawled out and his head idly lolling from side to side, Boothill himself is a man to bless the eyes. The way his body worked, how each wire and sensor inside his cyborg body worked in tandem with each other to create the masterpiece that was him.

Of course, you only think like that because you’re a mechanic. You know how hard it is to put together a synesthetic body part, let alone a whole human being.

To people who don’t know the complexities of machinery, they might just think he’s a handsome cyborg. And really, they weren’t wrong. Whoever created his body, whether it was Boothill himself or another person, was quite the artist with the way they’d managed to create Boothill as a cyborg and still leave in his human charm.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Boothill grumbles, pulling you very quickly out of your thoughts. “Ya gonna continue starin’ or ya gonna actually help a guy out?” He waved at the dent in his hip, a noticeable cave to the metal plate.

“Yes, yes.” You huff. While you did find the cyborg part of Boothill impressive, his personality… not so much. He was endearing at times, but mostly he could be a pain in the ass.

A lot of the time, he’d get himself scratched and broken just to come back to you only when he’s on the brink of shutting down. Or, he’d either only come to you with the smallest, most irrelevant and easy-to-fix problems known to man.

His current state being the latter.

You make your way carefully over to Boothill, dropping to your knees beside the workbench to inspect the minimal damage done to his hip. “It’s… not even that bad.” You murmur, eyes darting up to his. “You could probably play it off as a hip dip or something.”

“Nope!” Boothill grunts, moving his metallic hand to tap against the metal of his hip. “Not happenin’ cutie. Need this body o’ mine to be in tip-top condition for my next bounty.” He grins widely, stretching his legs in front of him as he rests his arms back behind his head.

You only roll your eyes in response, already pulling out your screwdriver to replace Boothill’s so-called “broken” hip. “Whatever you say then…” You grumble, working away at the screws on the plate.

“Thanks, sweet cheeks.” Boothill hums, absentmindedly picking at the metal of his shoulder.

You wince at the nickname, your eyes shifting from where you’re working to Boothill’s face. “What’s with the nicknames…?” You say, voicing your curiosity. “We’ve known each other for what, six months now?” You raise an eyebrow at him before you continue. “Six months, and we're not even dating yet you always seem to use some form of a nickname.”

“Well,” Boothill hums, “the guy that made this good ol’ body of mine decided I would benefit from losing a thing or two. Those bein’ my ability to swear and of course my clock.”

“Your… clock?” You give him a confused look as you screw the metal back into place, finishing off his new hip.

“No, no, cutie, not an actual clock.” Boothill rolls his eyes. “My, uh, manhood, ya know?”

“Your…” You trail off. “Oh.”

He grins at you, opening his legs widely on the table. “Look if ya want, I got nothin’ to hide down there.” He gives you a wink before leaning further into your workbench.

You glance down at his crotch and see that it is, indeed, very flat. I guess what he said is true then…

You’re about to pick up your tools when you hear Boothill call for you, his name dropping from his lips. “Hey, uh, you don’t happen to have any o’ those synesthetic clocks, do ya?”

You give Boothill a blank look. While you did have a few lying around, as per a customer who was willing to pay a hefty price of seven million credits for one, you didn’t think Boothill would want one.

“Yeah…” You eventually respond. “I do.”

Boothill’s eyes widen as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes. “Oh, mother fudgin’!” He says before eagerly jumping off the workbench. “Please,” he begs, “ya gotta hook me up with one! Haven’t felt it in so long, ‘s like a piece of my heart’s been missing!”

You cringe at his choice of terminology before looking up at the pleading man. “Well, they cost a hefty price—”

“I’m willin’ t’pay!” Boothill cries, the same pleading tone still present in his voice. “Please, anythin’ for my clock back!”

“I—y’know what, fine.” You grumble, not having the energy to think up an argument. You wave your hand at your workbench. “Sit on the edge while I grab one. I’m just gonna assume you want the biggest size.”

You hear the faint rumble of Boothills laugh. “Oh, darlin’ you know me so well!”

You roll your eyes, pulling out a key to unlock a drawer where you kept your synesthetic… manhoods. You eye them all, cautiously taking one on the very left end before closing the drawer and going back up to Boothill.

“So.” You say, holding the synesthetic member awkwardly in front of Boothill. “Eight inches, pretty thick, the colour an’ design of the metal goes pretty well with your cyborg parts, I think it matches you.”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Boothill grins, his sharp teeth shining under the light. “Now that's what I’m talking about. Can’t wait to have my fudgin’ shift back.”

You roll your eyes at the censorship before tapping Boothill’s knee. “Spread your legs, gotta get to you if you want me to actually put this on.”

Boothill gives you a teasing look and you already know what he’s about to comment on. “If you wanted to see my new duck in action, ya could’ve jus’ asked.” He grins and you roll your eyes again. Just what you predicted.

“Shut up and spread your legs.” You say, a harsh tone evident in your voice. This time Boothill complies, his knees spreading as you once again take your place, kneeling on the floor—this time between his legs.

Slowly, you unscrew the metal panel on Boohill’s crotch area.

Once it’s fully out, you take a peek into the hole you just opened, trying to grasp what you’re working with. You puff out your cheeks, sighing as you peer into the hole between Boothill’s legs.

There’s an assortment of jumbled wires, a few switches, and—is that a remote control? With two fingers, you manage to pry your way into the cavity in Boothill’s crotch. Lithly and carefully, you pull the remote from the little clasp it was stuck in before sliding it out.

You inspect it cautiosly, taking note of how there’s only one singular switch on the flat of it. You contemplate flipping it, but then it crosses your mind that touching random things that came from inside Boothill’s body wasn’t the best idea.

Setting the remote to the side for later, you continue your work with Boothill’s new member.

Carefully, very, very carefully, you attach each wire to the base of Boothill’s new appendage, making sure everything is kept neat and tidy. With a quick glance up at Boothill, you can instantly tell he’s at least somewhat relaxed.

“Boothill.” You call, tapping the inside of his metal thigh. “I’m gonna connect the synesthesia now, so you might get a bit…” You cough awkwardly. “Aroused… But just ignore it and try not to like—y’know, cum all over my face.”

Boothill grins down at you, once again flashing you his sharp teeth. “Don’t worry, pretty boy, I’ve got some self-control.”

You nod your head, cautiously pushing the two wires together. The instant you twist them into place, you hear Boothill let out a loud groan. “Fudge, I missed this.” He murmurs, his dick twitching to life right in front of your face.

The sight, being able to watch as the new tip of his metal cock twitches and lifts, sends a shiver down your spine—one you chose to ignore as much as possible. Your hands go back to his shaft, gently pressing a screw in and Boothill lets out a loud hiss, his dick twitching in your hand.

“Darlin’ you’re teasin’ me.” He grunts before peering down at you through half-lidded eyes.

You don’t say anything, making sure to work carefully at his dick, making sure everything is functioning. As you trail your hand along the underside of his shaft, Boothill’s thigh twitches, pushing against your head and forcing your face closer to his cock.

You let out a squeal of surprise, eyes darting up to Boothill, whose face is flushed a warm pink with his teeth pulled between his lips. “Didn’t know this would affect you this much.” You murmur, a playful edge in your voice. You hate to admit it, but you’re already half-hard from being so close to Boothill and working on him in such an… intimate way.

“Shut it, darling.’” The cyborg grunts, and you laugh at the way his hands curl into fists beside him. “Haven’t felt like this in a while.”

“I can tell.” You hum, tapping his tip a few times and smirking at the loud groan that leaves his lips.

“Fudging—” Boothill grunts, his hand grabbing tightly at your shoulder as you stand up. “Such a fudgin’ tease, aren’t ya, sweetie?”

“Dunno what you're talking about Boothill.” You say, feigning innocence. Sitting up from your kneeling position you grab the remote. “Any idea what this is?” You question, showing it to Boothill.

He eyes it carefully before shrugging. “Nah, got no clue.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” You huff. “Cause I found it inside you.”

Boothill gapes at you, his jaw going slack. “Inside me!?” He roars. “And you just—just took it out!? What if I need that to live?!”

“Relax, cowboy,” you groan, his loud voice getting on your nerves slightly, “it wasn’t connected to anything, and you seem pretty fine now.”

Boothill glares at you seemingly having forgotten about his rock-hard erection standing tall against his metal abs. “Give it here.” He says, making a ‘give’ motion with his fingers. He practically snatches it from your hand the instant you’re within arm's reach, his hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer as he grabs at the remote. “Hmm…” He hums, inspecting it in his hands. Slowly, he slides the panel down, revealing two short words that make the two of you gasp.

“Censorship… Control.” Boothill reads, and you instantly snatch the remote into your hands.

“Hey!” Boothill yells! “Wait a darn minute—I need that!”

“No,” you respond flatly, “you don’t. Whoever built in that censorship must’ve done it for a reason—”

“Yeah!” Boothill grunts. “To annoy the fudge outa me!” He growls again, desperately trying to reach for the remote again. “Oh, fudgin’ give it! What’ll it take for you to give me the darn thing?!”

You grin.

Finally, he asked.

“I think a good enough payment would be to test out this new dick of yours.”

Boothill’s expression turns from anger and annoyance to a smirk in the blink of an eye. His hands are no longer grabbing at the remote, and instead resting on your waist. “Oh?” He coos. “Didn’t know you liked me that much.” He smirks, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “But a test drive would be so much more fun if I had my swearin’ back. Think of all the dirty lil’ things I could say to you, hm?”

Your face flushes as you feel Boothill’s cool breath fan over your ear. “I bet you'd really like if I turned it off, be able to swear to your heart’s content” You do your best to stand your ground, ignoring the blood that rushes to your cock and the way your pants grow tight. “But I think I can think of a better way to put your mouth to use.”

Boothill growls lowly, his grip moving from your waist to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze. “Turn it off and I might just show you what this mouth of mine is capable of.”

“Hmph.” You grunt. “Fine. Let's see how dirty this mouth of yours can get, Boothill." You whisper, your warm breath fanning over his chest. With that, you’re flicking his censorship off, once again leaving Boothill free to say whatever he wants.

“Atta boy.” He growls.

Boothill’s eyes narrow as you flick the remote, effectively ending his censorship. Your face flushes, watching his lips pull into a wide grin as he grips your ass, tugging down your pants and leaving them dropped at your ankles. “Don’t worry whore, I’ll show you just how good I am.” Boothill growls, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ll have you screaming my name while you’re wrapped ‘round my cock.”

You don’t say anything, only moving to press your face further into his neck.

“I’ll tell you every dirty word, every filthy thought that crosses my mind while I pound into your tight fuckin’ hole.” Boothill groans, starting to tug down your boxers too.

And suddenly, like he only now could process the extent that he could speak, Boothill is tugging you away from him only to press his lips harshly into you, murmuring into the kiss as he does. “You little slut, I’m gonna fuck you till you’re stuffed fuckin’ full of my dick. You’ll be drenched in your own cum, worshiping my cock, begging for more.” He lets out a loud groan, pulling away. “And don’t think you can fuckin’ hide, ‘cause I’ll take you right here an’ now, on your stupid workbench.”

A wicked grin spreads across his face, watching the sight of your absolute arousal dripping down your dick.

“Look at you, so fuckin’ hard.” He wraps his palm around your cock, giving it a sharp tug before pulling his hand away only to return with a sharp slap against your tip. “Bet you’d pull your pants down for anyone on the street, like a common whore.”

You whine, knees buckling at the slap. You collapse onto Boothill’s chest, letting out a plethora of pathetic sounds as you do.

“Aww.” Boothill coos, lifting your chin to face him. “This weak already?”

He grips your body, getting off your workbench only to lay you on top of it. You lay flat on your tummy, with you face pressed into the thin padding of the workbench.

“You’re gonna be a good boy now, an’ take what I give you, ‘kay?” Boothil says, bending your knees to push your ass into the air. His finger teases your puckered hole, tracing your rim, but never pushing anything in,

“Boothill.” You whine. “Put it in already!”

“What’d I say?” Boothill growls, bringing down a hand against your ass in a harsh spank. “That you’re gonna take what?”

“T-Take what you give me!” You whine, pressing your face into the cushion in embarrassment.

You can’t believe what’s currently happening. Here you are, face down and your ass in the air as Boothill eases a finger into your tight hole, occasionally giving mean spanks against your balls and ass.

Eventually, Boothill presses his first finger in. The feeling makes you gasp out, your back arching against the workbench. His fingers are so thick. You whine out, instinctively rocking your hips against his fingers.

“That’s it.” Boothill praises, bringing a hand to rub your back gently. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, like a good lil’ slut.” He presses in another finger, beginning to match the pace of your hips as he curls them.

He thrusts them in and out, and in and out until you’re seeing stars. Your eyes are rolled back, drool slipping from your lips as you moan and writhe against Boothill’s hand. He curls his fingers, easily finding your prostate and laughing cruelly when your dick twitches.

“Fuck, you’re so easy.” He moans, watching you fuck against his fingers. Slowly, he grabs his new metal dick, dragging the cool tip across the crack of your ass. You whine, your eyes squeezing shut at the cold sensation.

“Boothill!” You moan out. “D-Don’t stop, I—I’m so close!”

“Oh?” He questions. “And who told you that you had any right to tell me what to do?”

Just like that, he’s pulling his fingers away from you. You’re a whining, crying mess at that. Sobbing about how you needed his fingers, his dick, his anything to make you come. “Please!” You beg. “Need t’cum so badly!”

“Really?” Boothill smirks. “If that’s really what you want…” He tugs you off the workbench, watching you fall to the floor into a pathetic heap. “Then beg me for it.”

You nod eagerly, instantly getting on your knees and kissing against Boothill’s hard cock. The rough concrete of the floor is painful against your bare knees, but you can make due.

You’re quick to take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the cool metal before pressing your lips slightly lower. Your tongue presses down, forced to drag along his underside the more you take him in.

You blink up at Boothill, tears welling in your eyes as you plead with him to help you. Help you. Use you. It didn’t matter.

Boothill lets out a tsk before grabbing your hair harshly. “What happened to my smart mechanic I knew so well? When’d he get replaced by this cock-hungry bitch who can’t even suck dick to save his life?”

At that, Boothill’s pressing your face all the way down. Your nose pokes at the cold metal of his pelvis before he’s pulling you back and thrusting his dick deep down your throat. He sets a quick pace, fucking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a fleshlight for him to use and throw away at his disposal.

Your jaw hangs slack, tongue forcefully dragging along the metal of his cock. Drool slips from your lips but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when your mouth is being stuffed so full. Boothill’s pace quickens and you moan weakly around his cock, feeling something poke at your own.

From what you manage to see through the corner of your eye, Boothill is stepping on your dick, rubbing the sole of his dirty shoe against your tip as it leaks precum all over the rough concrete. The feeling of his shoe on your dick, his cock stuffing your mouth—it’s all enough to send you over the edge.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your cock twitching pathetically under Boothill’s shoe as you shoot ropes of cum from your tip. Some of it sticks to the bottom of his shoe, and some squirts farther. Boothill laughs, rubbing his shoe harder into your dick, watching you whine around his cock.

“C’mon slut, you can take it. This is the payment you wanted, so don’t go crying on me now.”

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

[thequietkid-moonie]

Hey moonie, i wonder if it sounds like a good prompt but what about some Yuri hcs with a reader that has been trough similar stuff as anya and ended up with an emotion tracking power (like Jack's power of seeing people's colors) where he try as much as he can hide stuff from them such as his job, his stress regarding a few troubles, some of his feelings, etc?

Synesthetic!S/O can see his emotions

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Yuri Briar ]

[ Spy x Family ]

Fun fact! Jack's ability is actually based on the synesthesia but is taken to the extreme! Hope you don't mind I made it more general

I think i made a god job with this, but not sure, hope you like it

× Synesthesia is a condition where someone can persive things (like an specific flavor, a sound or even a color) from a stimulus that isn't normally related to it (i recomend searching more about the topic to be able to comprehend it better)

Yuri is a total lovestruck man, when he is in love he is completely blinded by that love, and it is only going to increase once you two are in a relasionship, wanting nothing more but to make you happy and give you a good life

If you ever tell him that you can persive things others not he will believe you almost right away, with a wide smile he asure you that he trust you even if you don't show any kind of evidence. However he will ask for more details out of curiosity, he loves you and wants to know all he can about you, so is only natural for him to want to know more

If you are shy or more nervous about the topic it would take him a moment to understand it and apologize for asking for more (and depending in how nervous you look is going to be how deeply he apologize) and probably even promise to make it up for you

At the end, show evidence of such hability would be almost imposible since is something you and only you persive, and despite that Yuri decide to just trust you and even admire you for it, is a quite unique hability and, in his eyes, you should be proud of! It makes you even more special! For him it doesn't matter anyone else opinion, even if you can't prove that you can actually do it he will not let anyone talk bad about you about it or call you a liar, he will immediatly get protective over you if anyone dares to acuse you of being a failure, even if it is with the smallest hint of doubt

Yuri indirectly encourages you to share more of this hability of yours with him by telling you how amaizing it is or how it makes you more beautiful and special, how lucky is he for having someone so amazing by his side, everytime you are able to persive something (like you can hear a musical note, a smell or even a color) from his emotions his smile just widen, although he really hopes that whatever you percive from him is pleasant to you, the last thing he wants is to upset you

There is no way you'll ever be able to guess something from his work from him, he can be having the most stressful day of his life during work but the moment he is finally able to see you again his entire self transforms into the most happiest person in the world, he may seem a little upset but just because he has being craving for your affection. You can get too notice when he is the slighest mad or stress for work if you sneak behing from behing him but if you confront him about it he will insist that is something you don't need to worry about, just silly little problems but nothing much, besides you are the only thing he needs to feel at his 100% again and he say it in such sincere and loving way that is almost flustering

The fact that you can notice his feelings even if he tries to hide that part of him from you makes him nervous, he want to give you a life where you don't have to worry about a thing and just enjoy, so it scare him a little, feeling like he is getting you involved in his work (even when is far from that), however he immediatly melts once you show worry for him about him feeling that bad, it makes him forget his worries and feel like he has an angel by his side, then again, he insist that having you by his side and your love is more than enough to make him feel better

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Tangerine

Request from @chanandlersstuff​:  Hi, can I request something from Mgk? As if he's on stage and can't find the reader in the crowd and gets a little scared, stops singing and starts asking his team if they see her and starts looking for her. Give it the ending you want. Thank you💛

Side note for your username, I love it!! Chanandler Bong is my husband’s favorite joke from the show.

Summary: visually impaired reader with synesthesia is separated from her friend at a Machine Gun Kelly concert (Tickets to my Downfall). Colson grows so nervous for her he stops the show to talk over the loud speaker so that she might find her way back by following the colors of his voice.

A/N: so I wrote this before picking a gif and it was a very happy accident that the colors match

The world was always beautiful to (y/n), but that was due to her inability to see what those around her could. She knew she was special from a young age, but she didn’t know how special she truly was until well into her early adult life. At six, she would rifle through her parents’ CDs and records in search for albums with a large variety of instruments playing various parts just so she could see a collection of colors dance her around her. Some of (y/n)’s friends laughed at her when she told them about her ability to see sounds, but one completely understood what (y/n) meant, after all, she could sense the personalities of numbers and letters. As the pair grew up, they learned more about their own forms of synesthesia, but (y/n) grew to be fully dependent upon her chromesthesia after an accident caused her to lose her eyesight.

(Y/N) could feel people crowded around her as a dull blanket of grey enveloped her mind. All she could see was grey under the low roar of people engaged in their own conversations before a small streams of orange and gold twisted together and danced through the air around her. The guitar intro of “title track” caused a smile to curl over her face as her childhood friend linked (y/n)’s arm in hers and the grey blanket became lumpy as the crowd around her began to jump up and down to the beat of the music as the song quickly sped up.

Colson loved performing, but there was something about Tickets to my Downfall that made it even more fun; maybe it was the connection he had with fans, the fact that it was a completely new genre of music, or maybe it was due to the isolation he felt from his fans during the pandemic and now that he was able to perform again, it felt like the first time. He loved watched the crowd’s reaction to each song--the hype that came with the first released single, Bloody Valentine, the tears that were invoked as he sang Play This When I’m Gone, and even the rage-like mosh pit that formed during Can’t Look Back.

Another one of Colson’s favorite things to do during shows was read the signs his fans made. Most of them consisted of sexual propositions, some were the run-of-the-mill, “My name is Kelly too,” signs, but one held by a young woman in standing-only section caught his eye. 

Pink and gold swirled together as bursts of indigo extended across the sign from various points where the pink and gold met. It reminded Colson of the smoke that remained in the air after fireworks, but projected on the backdrop of a twilight sky. Faintly, and if he squinted, he could see his lyrics written on the board, “I’m running low on serotonin in these empty moments. I’m having trouble operating without my main component,” along with the caption, “What my blind, synesthetic friend sees!”

(Y/N)’s friend was a gifted artist, and prior to the concert, the pair sat down and made a sign together. They played Nothing Inside on a loop until (y/n)’s friend completed the painting as (y/n) described, with as much detail as she could, what the colors coming from the ending words of the song were--what shades and hues they were, how they moved...what she saw when she heard the song.

When the young woman holding the sign noticed he was looking in her direction, she quickly pointed to the woman beside her whose arm was linked in hers. A smile formed on Colson’s face as he continued to sing through his set, but he made sure to wave at the girl so she could tell her friend. He could see (y/n)’s smiling face as her friend cupped her hands to her ear and told her he had seen the sign, and he smiled in return. She was cute, beautiful even in a girl-next-door kind of way, and he thought it was cool that she’d come out to support him with such an interesting sign. He’d heard about synesthesia before, but never thought someone with it would ever depict his music in an even more beautiful way than he could have imagined. The idea that someone who couldn’t see could see so much more than anyone else baffled him, and he jealously wondered what the rest of his songs looked like to her.

WWIII was a chaotic release of energy, not just for Colson, but for the audience as well. Another small mosh pit had formed early on in the short song, and seemed to escalate until the ending notes, when it stopped all together. The blanket of grey that had been lumpy earlier had turned into mountains shifting around (y/n) due to the forces of an earthquake, and the familiar grasp her friend had on her arm was replaced by the bumping and shoving of other people as she quickly became lost in the darkening grey mass that enveloped her.

“(F/N)! Hello?” (y/n)’s voice tried to pierce through the roar around her as WWIII sent bombshells upon bombshells hurdling at her arms and shoulders as she held her hands, instinctively, up to her face. She tried to focus on the colors nearby, but all she could see was the blue and green coming from the stage as the song built into its the verse before the final chorus. Suddenly, as the air around her became absent of color, and the grey sheet that had been continually moving and shifting around her settled gently down the the surface of the earth. Frightened, but not wanting to bring herself to tears around any number of strangers that could have surrounded her as she clumsily stumbled through the crowd, (y/n) firmly planted her feet into the ground and kept her ears attuned to the forest green voice of her friend.

“Sorry to cut it short, everyone,” Colson said through the microphone as he scanned the audience. He couldn’t help the many times his eyes had drifted back to the hand-painted sign and the beautiful woman who had inspired it, but this time, as his eyes landed on the sign, her gentle face was no where to be found. He had sung through part of the song on instinct as he exchanged concern glances with the woman’s friend, but upon seeing how distraught the friend had become, he cut the band off and turned to security. “Yeah, you’re looking for a woman in a black t-shirt and high-waisted dark blue jeans with her hair half-up and half-down. She’s blind and her friend can’t find her.” He could hear his voice growing even more frantic as he hid the microphone from his lips in hopes that he wouldn’t panic anyone. “Excuse me, girl with the sign with all the colors,” Colson called out and then waved the woman towards the stage. As if the crowd sensed something was wrong, they parted to make a path for the woman their idol was speaking to.

“I don’t know what happened,” (y/n)’s friend said as she continued to look over her shoulder for (y/n), nearly completely oblivious to the fact that Machine Gun Kelly was kneeling on the stage staring her in the face less than three feet away.

“What’s her name?” he asked as he looked at the sign once more.

“(Y/N).”

“And she has synesthesia?” he asked again in a slightly more panicked tone than before.

“Yeah. She can see colors even though she can’t see. Well, she could see before, but now it’s just colors on grey and black. If it’s quiet she can normally find me if I keep talking.” The young woman had begun to babble in the anxiety of losing her friend and Colson could feel his heartbeat hasten. He didn’t want to have someone go missing at one of his shows, and it made him feel even more shitty that it was someone he was actively keeping an eye on--albeit because he couldn’t look away.

“What about me?” the words fell from his mouth faster than they appeared in his head. “Do I have a distinct color?” The young woman nodded and Colson quickly stood to his upright posture and scanned the crowd. “Hey, (y/n),” he called into the microphone and hoped he could gain the woman’s attention. “I know you’re separated from your friend and I’m hoping you can see us. She’s here in the front by the stage, so just come this way and you should be able to find us.”

Bright, bubblegum pink sprouted like jagged vines from where the music had been coming from earlier. On each edge of where (y/n) assumed was the stage had to be two large speakers, because the pink seemed to crawl in curved arches from each speaker only to connect in the center point between the two. As she studied brilliant pink movement against the black backdrop of her vision, her name began to form in the vines as she heard it echo through the air around her. With her arms carefully outstretched, she began to take cautious steps in the direction of the only thing clear enough for her to see, bubblegum pink.

“The security team is headed through the crowd to find you, (y/n), so try and make yourself known.” (Y/N) could hear the deep voice that had rung through her headphones on countless occasions beckoning her to safety as the pink grew more and more brilliant with each word spoken.

“I’m (y/n),” she called out as she frantically waved a hand in the air above her head.

“You’re the person they’re looking for?” A man with a frail, lemon colored voice asked pointedly. (Y/N) nodded quickly in the direction of the voice and tried to reach out for someone to ground her in the moment, so she didn’t feel like she floating through a dark abyss. “Why don’t you just go over there? You’re friend is waiting,” the man questioned and was quickly met with a dumbfounded expression plastered on (y/n)’s face.

“I’d love to, but given the fact that I’m blind, I’m not so sure where ‘over there’ is,” she grumbled impatiently.

“I’m not sure it’s working,” Colson said as he knelt down to speak with (y/n)’s friend once more.

“Sing the sign,” she gasped. “She knows those words inside and out, and they’re always the same each time she hears it.” Colson’s eyebrows furrowed at the suggestion, but seeing as he had no other ideas to help find this woman, he obliged by the request.

“Okay, (y/n), I’m going to try something a little different,” Colson sighed into the microphone before he took another breath and began to slowly sing, “I’m running low on serotonin in these empty moments.”

Suddenly, cascades of gold began to fill the space between the vines of pink spread out across the black canvas in her mind.

“I’m having trouble operating without my main component.”

As the words floated into her ears, the intertwined pink and gold began to form a path from their starting point to where she stood.

“I’m running low on serotonin in these empty moments.”

Bursts of indigo sputtered across the mass of colors on stage and traveled down the pathway to her feet.

“I’m having trouble operating without my main component.” As he repeated the lyrics, he could see a path begin to form as people moved to one side or another to allow a hesitant and cautiously walking young woman to make her way towards him. (Y/N) couldn’t hear the difference in Colson’s voice as he found her face in the crowd and realized she was safe, but she could see it. From the center of the collection of colors, rays of tangerine shot from where Colson stood like the sun. (Y/N) smiled at this new development in the painting before her and she began to walk a little faster towards the sun in the picture of her mind. The smile on her face grew when she felt a hand that was not her friend’s gently grasp hers and lead her behind what felt like a metal barricade, around what she assumed was the stage, and up a couple of steps.

“We’re on the side stage, VIP area,” she heard the forest green of her friend say, but (y/n)’s mind was still locked on the tangerine that refused to disappear. She’d heard the tangerine come from his lips before, but it was always directed at a single person, and no one else. Tangerine was always associated with a genuine, positively influenced emotion coming from one’s voice, and until that moment, in regards to Colson Baker, tangerine was something that was solely associated with Casie.

For the rest of the concert, (y/n) held her tongue between her teeth, listened to the colors swirl through the air, and let them paint a picture of the moment in her mind. With each song came a new collection of colors, but somethings always stayed the same: the black emptiness that she was cursed with, the bubblegum pink of Colson Baker’s natural voice, and the tangerine rays that sprung forth from him in his moments of weakness when he turned around to steal a glance at (y/n).

[p-antomime]

virgin!rindou x bestfriend/rans gf!reader [NAUR I GOT SUPER PASSIONATE W THIS ONE, most I've written since graduating💀 💀]

okay hear me out, virgin!rindou who has unfortunately made the mistake of falling head over heels for his bestfriend!reader. pretty boy is too insecure and anxious to make the first move, so he hides his feelings as best as he can [insecure in the sense that he believes she can do better, be with somebody who can provide a safe and normal life for her; not one mixed with gangs and violence].

unfortunately the news is announced to him: his beloved friend has started dating his brother. he pushes down his disappointment & jealousy and congratulates them. he should be happy for his brother-- and for y/n. but he's not. he's bitter, but he would never want to make either of them upset, so he selflessly forfits his friendship with y/n all together. ignoring her in uni, leaving her on seen, airing her calls. its better this way, right?

weeks go by, rolling into months, and not a word to y/n from rindou. hes been working hard, trying to move on -- and has convinced himself that he has. convincing himself that he wasn't obsessivley refreshing her & rans social media accounts. convincing himself that he didnt occasionally cry over the thought of her.

but this whole fascade of lying to himself crumbles when ran brings y/n over and the two of them get it on in his room- the walls are thin. he is disgusted with himself, but finds his hand subconsciously sliding into his own boxers.

so he holds his breath, bites his lip, and shoves his hand into his mouth with his head buried in the pillow- tears streaming & tip leaking. pumping and thrusting rhythmically with the sound of ran’s bedframe hitting the wall. Imagining that its him making her feel good. so desperate and sloppy, whimpers and sobs. he has to be quiet, or they'll hear him.

and afterwards rindou bumping into y/n in the hallway of the house, his eyes puffy from crying.

~😼. anon

you guys DONT FUCKING KNOW how much i love when y'all send me long asks, this type of ask MAKES MY DAY SO FREAKING MUCH BETTERRRR, i love you for this nonnie, and lemme put some things more for the final part with mr. rin!

Guilt would be eating him up inside, but more than guilt he felt jealousy and maybe this was reflected in how hot his hand was as soon as he first started just groping the bulge below his underwear.

Rindou could hear everything, absolutely everything, from the sound of the belt buckle on Ran's pants being opened probably by himself to the small whimpers coming from the only person the younger Haitani loved that much and consequently couldn't have in a billion years. He assumed his older brother was busy caressing youe body and kissing or biting your neck and just imagining himself in his shoes, Rindou began to feel his precum reaching to make the fabric of his underwear completely wet; maybe even wetter than the bottom of your undies when Ran began to use two fingers to rub you.

As his body moved better on the bed and his face was pressed against one of the pillows as soft as your skin and his hands finished lowering his boxers and immediately began impatiently pumping his cock, Rindou began to pay even more attention to the sounds — this way it was easier for him to imagine that it was him and not Ran having the privilege of kissing, rubbing, touching, stroking and kneading your body.

It was the first time that the younger Haitani felt both guilty and horny at the same time, his brain couldn't decode that mixture of synesthetic sensations; in fact his mind for the last few weeks was busy only being able to discern what was jealousy, resentment, irritation and, of course, the feeling of wanting someone so badly that it hurt — and indeed it hurt in Rindou's core to the point where he began to get teary-eyed as his hips fucked his hand with the same rhythm Ran used to pin you to his bed and start pounding inside your hole that always fit so well on his cock while whispering how you were the most beautiful angel, how you were all his, how you had been so good that you deserved to take every last drop of his cum.

As Ran's bedframe banged over and over against the wall and produced little "Knock, knock, knock", Rindou was busy panting trying not to be so loud with the little "Please", "Y/N" that came out of his mouth without him even realizing it; his hand getting wetter and wetter with his precum, his hip movements less and less rhythmic and more clumsy as his climax came full steam ahead.

And perhaps it had been his most intense high yet, he even had the impression of his consciousness wavering and returning to normal just as his blurred vision became filled with little dots as the thick strands of his white cum soiled the sheets and the palm of his hand, his cock throbbing against his fingers andteeth digging into the same pillow on which he had been crying before.

Rindou just didn't expect to find you when he was leaving the room to get to the bathroom after storing his cock in his underwear again and you trying to cover yourself because you had also just come from a fuck and thought your boyfriend's little brother was sleeping.

Until you see his white dirty hand.

[bonvoyagenoona]

Finger Hearts | KSJ

Pairings: Jin x Reader

Rating: 18+ / Mature / Explicit

Synopsis: Jin just wants to be there for you.

Word Count: 5.1k | read on ao3

Genres, Content Warnings, & Themes: New relationship, dirty talk, hard smut.

Author’s Note: Written for a steamy ask from anon. Also, despite the banner imagery, starring this purple hoodie Jin in the second half of the story specifically for wonderful @virgorisingproblems. Hope you enjoy!

Permanent Taglist (italics mean I couldn’t tag for some reason!): @purpleheartsfortae ​ @btseditsworld @greezenini @missbickerbocker @dearbambideer @helenazbmrskai @morti13 @skyys-universe @somewhereofftheglobe @imaginativedreams @dreamamubarak @m-yg93 @elyte @awinkies @yuugehn @jkkit @lynnloveslokiredacted @Sunnietee

“But have you ever been there… for her?” Yoongi asks again.

Jin looks around at his surroundings. The time of day changes. The bar changes. The table changes. The seats change. The drinks change, like now, always at the behest of some disembodied hand that randomly pops into view from time to time. But Jin is always surrounded by the same six drunk faces. And it’s rare for him to be so confused in present company.

The slower cadence with which Yoongi repeats the line doesn't help to elucidate things, nor does Yoongi's insistent look, nor his raised eyebrows, nor his pushed out lips, still forming the “R” at the end of “her”.

“What are you talking about?” Jin scoffs, furrowing his brow and leaning back in his seat. “I just told you an entire epic. I was Homer. You were my… my…” 

He grimaces and shakes his head around. 

“Whatever those campfire dudes were called. Anyway, I just told you an Iliad-length tale of how many times I made her come, with excruciating detail of how I made her come, how every fold of skin on my dick all the way up to every fold of skin in the prints of my fingers—” 

Jin never misses an opportunity for great hand comedy, so he dazzles his fingers here, before curling them into fists to pound them on the table for effect as he adds, “made her scream, and you have the nerve to ask me if I’ve—” 

Air quotes should drive the point home. 

“Been there for her?”

“The fact that you’re leading your response with romanticizing your dudes and glorifying your dick doesn’t bode well, for you, and for her,” Namjoon admits, exchanging knowing glances with a smirking, drinking Yoongi.

Jimin and Taehyung seem to be in on whatever secret this is. The only ones who aren’t are Jungkook, who is staring at Jin’s chest, and Hobi, who passed out about half an hour ago. Jin will have to remember that for later, though it doesn’t exactly encourage him to know that the only friend that he has left is only his friend because he couldn’t hold his liquor. 

“You made her come,” Namjoon goes on. “Great.”

“Not just great,” Jin grumbles, “fantastic!”

“Fantastic,” Namjoon continues, though, from the way it sounds, Namjoon couldn’t have been listening closely to the details. “What our esteemed colleague is trying to express is that there are many different ways a girl can come.”

“You think I don't know that?” Jin can't help but snarl when he asks it. The alcohol is getting to him, but it doesn't take much to let the ever-simmering rage bubble over. “Again, I just—”

“You just schooled us in how to dick someone down,” Jimin tries, leaning forward in his seat. He clasps his hands together and tilts his head. He even grins in that winning, boyish, flirtatious way that he always uses when he's trying to get something out of someone. Even his hair is part of the plan, those bangs just effortlessly swooshing by his eyeline. If Jimin thinks this makes him seem more like friend than foe, he is sorely mistaken. “But have you explored other parts of the body? Specifically, parts of her body?”

Jin doesn’t just know every part of your body. He beholds it in other dimensions, like a synesthete. In colors, specifically. Your collarbones are white, when his teeth sink in. Your hips are blue, when his hands take them. Your cheeks are red, when his lips land on them. And your ass turns from red back to gold, when it gasps for breath from its relentless, punishing meetings with his palm.

Instead of listing all the shades he sees in the mosaic swirling around him and starting to take the place of these six idiots’ dumb grins, Jin shrugs and says, “Duh!”

“Well, do you find yourself exploring them in exactly the same way?” Jimin asks, punctuating his question with another perfect bang-swoop.

Jin shakes the hair out of his eyes, rough and angry. “What’s it to you??"

Jimin raises his hands and presses his back against that of his seat. 

Taehyung moves forward to take his place. 

“No offense, hyung, but as epic as your sex is, well… frankly… we’ve heard it all before,” he replies. “Every bite around the mole on her back. Every shift of your hips as you rail her from behind. And then, eventually, every time you gather the sweaty strands of her hair in your fist before she—”

“Screams your fucking name,” the rest of the group joins in, startling Hobi awake.

Jin looks at Hobi, who smacks his lips. 

“Must’ve dozed off,” Hobi mumbles, smacking his lips. “Were you just talking about the ponytail part?” He grins sleepily. “That’s always my favorite part. Was it epic?”

Jin has never frowned so hard in his life, the muscles in his chin quivering under the weight of all his anger, and his gang's laughter, and Jimin’s bang-swooshes swooshing, and Hobi's annoyingly innocent eyes fluttering with grave concern.

“Don’t be mad, hyung!” Namjoon says gently. “We just want, y’know, we want you to—”

“Have better stories,” Jimin can’t help but tease.

“Have better sex,” Yoongi corrects.

Yoongi’s eyes lock with Jin’s, and instantly, Jin feels it. Yoongi’s sage insistence. The accompanying look is eerie. Disarming in the most thoughtful of ways. Saying that if Jin could set his almighty sword down for just a moment, he might actually learn something.

“Well… like… what… what kind of… like…”

This is embarrassing. How do you learn something when you don’t even have the words to form the question?

“Hyunghyunghyunghyunghyunghyunghyung!” Jungkook pants.

The group hushes as they all turn to their youngest, eyes wide and filled with promise.

“Fingers!” Jungkook pipes up.

Jin sighs. “Huh?”

Jungkook bounces in his seat, but he can’t muster much more than that either. How do you try to explain something when the person you’re talking to is usually the one explaining things? Plus, Jin has that super scary look on his face, and Jungkook would just rather not.

“You talked about every fold in your fingertips,” Yoongi picks up. “You ever use those fingertips all over her body?”

“Sure,” Jin says, but it comes out uneasily. Only faint brushstrokes of color appear in his mind, rather than the Rothko-sized swaths that usually consume his brain at the thought of you. 

“Everywhere?” Yoongi asks.

“Sure?” Jin answers.

The six others aren’t sure where to look. Jin's voice usually commands direction, rather than fading into the background noise of other groups at other tables with other drinks.

“It’s a new relationship,” Jimin thankfully reminds everyone. He meets Jin’s eyes and smiles, like the true friend that he is. “Maybe once you talk it out, you’ll find out more of what she likes, and you’ll be able to…”

Jin doesn't need much of a prompt to echo, “Be there… for her.”

Jin’s calm, happy smile is something you’re quickly realizing is a must-have to truly start your weekend. The way his lips shrink into a bit of a pout. The way his eyes curve up and curl in, letting his long, sweet lashes fan out. The way his broad shoulders relax, offloading whatever worries that might have piled up over the week to make space for your gentle arms.

So this frazzled, squinched-up, teeth-gnashing tangle of trepidation is not something you would ever expect.

Soft, comforting tones would be best. Go easy. 

“Hi,” you breathe, eager, but quiet. Smile just as big, but eyebrows ever-so-slightly raised. 

You reach out and smooth your fingertips over his soft, purple hoodie. You run them up from his stomach, up his body, resting just below his neck in the stitching of the yellow letters that, funnily enough, spell your name.

“You OK?” you ask.

His left hand grips yours and presses it into his chest, your palm curving around his pec. His eyes are focused on you, but he seems lost in thought. He softens, but he still chews his lip. 

“It’s just brunch, sweetie,” you say with a gentle smile, as he crouches down into you to steal more of your embrace. Your bodies slowly sway side to side, wobbling you back and forth over the threshold, feet dancing from the front porch to your entryway and back again in lopsided time. “It’s just my friends.”

Friends. 

What kinds of conversations do you have with your friends?

Do they think he uses his fingers enough?

Jin anxiously tightens his hold on you, resting his head on your shoulder. “You look pretty,” he whispers into your neck.

Your soft laugh gets choked off when he tightens his grip on your body.

“Jin,” you chuckle, wriggling a little to make more room. “Jin, I can’t…” 

When he pulls away slightly, giving you the spaces that you seem to want, he whines a little. His eyes don’t glimmer with their usual cheery sparkle. They seem… You’re not sure how they seem, actually. You’re still learning each others’ patterns. Each others’ expressions. Frustrated doesn’t quite describe it. 

Wounded. 

That’s closer.

You might not fully know each others’ expressions yet, but you don’t need to know exactly what’s running through Jin’s mind to feel his heart twinge in your chest. 

Your hand leaves the curve of his pec and finds the bend of his jaw. “We don’t have to go,” you offer, angling his face toward you, trying to get his eyes to refocus. “We can just stay here and—”

You’ll learn that a sense of duty always helps Jin plant his feet on solid ground again, like he does now, stamping the heels of his sneakers firmly back on the porch.

“No, no, I’m sorry.” The words come in swift whispers, hurrying to outrun the outside eyes and eavesdropping ears of momentary embarrassment. “I wanna meet your friends. I wanna—” 

His eyes don’t quite sparkle, but the little crinkles in the corners are a good sign. 

“I wanna be there for you.”

You smile and run your hand back down from his jaw, down his chest, and down to his hip, giving him a squeeze back, tight, like he had just squeezed you, before you run your hand up your long, white-sleeved arm, landing on your shoulder to readjust your purse strap. 

“I’m excited for you to meet them,” you say, shrugging that shoulder as you pull the leather band closer to your neck. “And they’re excited to meet you.”

Their grinning faces are certainly a promising sign. And their genuine laughs, full and warm and echoing, are starting to clinch the win. You’d know. You’re able to elicit the same ones. And you take it as a particular point of pride that Jin’s puns and turns-of-phrase have brought them out before the first round of drinks. 

Soon enough, Jin’s body stops twitching and starts settling into yours. Just as you calmed his chest, and softened his bite, you ease his back with slow, soft circles. On your next pass, you gently press your short, manicured nails into his skin. He takes a deep, refreshed breath at your touch. Looks at you with a caring gaze. Places his hand on your thigh. Squeezes. 

Jin looks around at the six faces surrounding you. They’re admittedly pleasant company. All of you are so beautiful, and kind, and sweet. Most importantly, though, you’re endlessly interesting. 

Topics range from the petty to the philosophical. The girl with the shawl shares witty quips that would float beautifully in the warm sunlight of Namjoon’s library. The girl with the long earrings talks entertainingly with her hands, slender hands that Jimin would enjoy watching as they loop and bob, or maybe even swoosh caringly through Jimin’s bangs. The girl with the big, opal ring follows every word, a conversational chameleon game enough to follow Taehyung’s random, winding roads. 

The girl with the freckle on her nose detonates sentences like fireworks and wiggles like the shimmer in her bright pink eyeshadow, something Hobi’s keen eye would never tire of. The giggly girl would easily vibe with Jungkook, her strategic mind on display with her Valorant phone case, and the way she strategically positions empty plates on the table in such a way that the waiter is never troubled too much with service. 

And the pleasant girl with the wavy hair even frown-laughs like Yoongi, who would count her charming, amused murmurs like medals. 

Still, it’s best not to get too comfortable. The last six-ring circus that Jin was in tore him apart.

“You know,” the girl with the long earrings replies, as she reaches for her glass, “I was beginning to think our friend here was overdoing it. Putting you on a pedestal.” She exchanges a teasing, knowing glance with you. “But after having met you, I think she might’ve been underselling.”

“A good strategy,” Jin says.

You complete his thought for him by adding, “Undersell and overdeliver.”

Tingles travel up and down his forearms when you wink back at him.

And his ears turn the same shade as his sangria-stained lips, which are pulling into a similarly sweet, if not hesitant, smile.

“Oh, I bet you deliver every time,” the girl with the long earrings jokes, looking around the table.

Even though the girls squeal excitedly, Jin can’t really interpret the coquettish but ultimately silent grin you send to them in response.

You don’t bring it up, but if you did, Jin wouldn’t disagree that he’s pretty weird on the drive home. He stutter-steps the gas a couple times. Keeps changing the music. Settles on a podcast instead to try to keep talking to a minimum. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to you. He’s practically bursting with words once you’re both fully inside your apartment. He’s even jumpy as he trails you to your bedroom.

“I just wasn’t sure how to phrase it,” he finally says, as he stands next to your bed, eyes following you to your clothes rack. “And I didn’t want to have too serious of a conversation in the car. I really wanted to talk it out.” He softens. “Check in with you.”

At this, you pause. You hang your purse on the end of the rack and peer at him through the full-length mirror just beside it. “Check in?” you question. “Like, to see if we’re OK?”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes widen hastily. “Are we not OK?”

The irony of the question. Both of you are so worried about each other’s answers that you’ve missed that you’re completely comfortable with asking the question in the first place.

“We’re more than OK!” Jin exclaims. You smile immediately as his eyebrows shoot up. “Things are fantastic!”

“Good,” you laugh, though you quickly re-furrow your brow and ask, “so, then, why were you so nervous?”

Jin knows he could bail right now. He’d know exactly how to. Save himself the embarrassment. It’s not like what the guys had to say rang true, anyway.

But he’s curious.

Not just about what might happen if he explores more of you.

He’s curious about what makes you tick. 

What makes you… explode.

Not bailing feels antithetical. It’s the strangest thing, being in a relationship where things are so good between you that he wants to know how to make you feel even better. 

“I, uh, worry that I’ve been maybe… kinda… one-note?” he asks. “Y’know. In the…”

He looks over at your bed. And then back at you. He gives you another look that you know you’re going to treasure. Eyes open, lips in pout. A puppy with his tail between his legs.

“No,” you say reassuringly, voice low, almost at a purr. You walk over to him and wrap him up in a hug, kissing his neck, just under his jaw. “That’s been good.” You sigh. “Really good.”

“I wanna do more,” he mumbles, running his hands over your ass.

He grabs both of your ass cheeks. Kneading them. 

Needing you. 

He pulls you into him. The pieces of you that are touching him — your breasts, your hips, your sex — illuminate fiercely. You sigh, placing your right temple just under his left collarbone, watching his Adam’s apple rise and fall as his hand traces down your fly.

“Good,” he purrs, “but I wanna do more of what you like.”

You can’t help but smile.  

“I like you.”

Jin chuckles before groaning, “Mmm, I like you, too,” as he undoes your zipper. You sigh as he wraps you up in his left arm, right hand busy with your button. Your pants sit a little lower on your waist, and you feel him start to slide his fingers into your cotton panties, stroking the front of your flesh gently with the side of his index finger’s knuckle. Gently. 

Questioningly.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as your neck cranes left, pulling your body in front of his and giving your hands more room to roam his body.

But Jin steers you back into his chest. He doesn’t have to pull hard. The way his hand is circling your flesh, then sliding down, fingers parting to surround your entrance before sliding back up again, has made you delectably malleable.

“Seriously,” he whispers, continuing to massage you slowly. “Tell me more.” 

The room is starting to fade. And the faint, slightly electronic buzzing that usually accompanies total silence is getting softer. 

“Doesn’t seem like you need me to tell you anything,” you answer honestly, swaying a little.

Colors swirl magnificently around you. Even with your eyes shut, he wonders if you can see them, too.

His chest rises to cradle your cheek. The breath makes his voice fuller. Resonant, and rich. “Tell me,” he says, as velvet and slick in tone as your velvet is slick to touch. “Tell me what no one else knows.”

“You want me to—”

A gasp catches in your chest as Jin’s finger slides through your folds, and back again. Coaxing you. Rewarding you. Perhaps dangling a bit of another reward just out of your grasp.

Your eyes flutter open, and you’re met with Jin’s lidded but determined gaze. He keeps his finger’s rhythm steady as he pulls you into a kiss, but when your hands trace his sides down to his hips, he pulls his hand from you altogether.

A new whine seeps out of you. It’s not like the clear ring of his name from your parted lips. It’s a dulcet hum wrinkled slightly by the scrunching of your chin and muffled by the puffing of your cheeks. Flushed pink haloes you. He wonders if you’ll keep tiptoeing to the edge with him. He’ll feed the embers as long as you’ll allow. He wants nothing more than to see that adorable, wanting face again, and again, and again.

“I’m serious,” Jin says, a bit of concern creeping back into his voice. “Tell me what I’m missing. Tell me what I don’t see.”

Jin’s knuckles are no stranger to your flesh. But you’ve admittedly wondered what it might feel like to have him play with you a little more. What it might feel for him to twirl you. Dip you. Caress you. 

Unleash you.

You tilt your head and examine him, head to toe. Few others have actually asked. And fewer still have delivered. 

“What if I show you?” you ask.

Jin nods eagerly, pupils darkening as your excited glow lets more color into the room.

You slowly unbutton your white top, smiling when Jin’s mouth hangs open as you reveal the full brightness of the fuschia push-up bra you have on underneath. You wiggle out of your pants and underwear, kicking them over to the side. Your ankle knocks the angle of your mirror down a bit, and you turn back to inspect it. Which gives you an idea.

“Lie back on the bed,” you tell him.

Jin jumps onto your mattress, leaning back against the headboard, limbs sprawled out and ready to engulf you.

You bring the mirror closer before you crawl into his lap, and then you turn to lie back against his solid chest.

“You look while you touch yourself?” Jin breathes, watching as you bring his right hand up to your mouth.

You graze your jaw with the backs of his knuckles. “This is more for our little show-and-tell,” you say, tossing in a grin before adding, “though I have in the past.”

He moans as you open your mouth and wrap your tongue around his fingers, pulling them inside to soak them. The trail of your spit breaks when his fingers near your chin on their way down to your dewy, warmed flesh, guided by your soft, expert hand.

He nuzzles into and kisses your neck, tongue gliding up and down, lips coming together to suck and pinch, drawing giggles out of you as you place his wet fingers between your folds and against your clit. 

Your gentle, appreciative grunt tells Jin that things are already getting better. And he stays warm, open, and obedient as you swirl his fingers around. He keeps going exactly as you’ve shown him, even after you let go of his hand to better revel in the lusciously creeping heat spreading up your body. You guide it through your toes and calves, into your thighs, throughout your torso, higher still to your chest and arms. Heat gets trapped where Jin is sucking on your neck. You need both of your hands to shake your fingers through your hair in order to help some of that heat dissipate.

“Mmm, a little more pressure,” you whisper, as you twist your hips. “Play with me. Part my lips a little. Nice, wide circles to start.”

Jin’s hand feels heavier, and hotter. And he works at the speed you showed him, neither dragging out of nervousness, nor rushing out of excitement, not even at the captivating sight of you blossoming for him.

“Feels good?” he mumbles, into your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you sigh, eyes rolling back, and head soon following. You shiver and start to move your hips in tandem to Jin’s sublime, sinful rhythm. 

Jin looks at your bodies in the mirror, his still clothed, and yours so beautifully naked, your soft, natural skin contrasting his commercial purples and blues. He loves watching your clit dance, and the bold outlines of his shape keep him focused. You’re starting to come undone, and he wants nothing more than to hold you. Support you. Give you what you need.

“What else?” he whispers eagerly.

You moan as your feet start to slide against your sheets. “Play with my tits?” you say, voice slightly weaker than before.

He knows your nipples are sensitive, but he doesn’t know how much more sensitive they are like this. He learns quickly, when his forearm has only barely brushed against your bra, and your hips buck up in response. The lesson is cemented when you inhale sharply as Jin dips his left hand into your right cup.

“Hurts?” he checks.

“No,” you murmur in bliss. “Keep going.”

He massages your breast with his fingertips, grazing, then pinching your nipple as your body rolls in waves. One really good pinch has your jaw hanging open, aimed toward his, and he steals a kiss, his tongue soothing you there while his fingers flatten to soothe you at your chest.

You break your kiss with a squeal.

“F-faster?” you ask, hips moving more exaggeratedly. “Tighter circles now, and—”

Your forehead nearly bashes into Jin’s jaw, which clenches as he rubs your clit with more focused ferocity. 

“Fuck, that feels amazing,” you whine, nodding and shutting your eyes, bringing the back of your head to his shoulder again. You can feel his hoodie getting damp, and you’re about to apologize for sweating all over him, but his hand moves to your left breast, his pawing and clawing rendering you speechless. 

All you can do is reach back for him, hand running through the hair at his left temple, and grabbing in sheer excitement.

You turn your hips to the right a little, and Jin’s wrist presses into the space between your bone and your flesh. That slight bit of pressure, plus the bind of your bra misaligned and flicking against your sensitive nipples, has you faltering. 

You look in the mirror and lock eyes with him. You’re so glad to see that familiar sparkle.

Jin may seem more like his old self with you, but what brings a smile to his face is experiencing a new side of you. Hearing new moans. Watching your body, as well as your reflection, moving in new ways.

And he’s a quick learner.

He doesn’t need to be told, for instance, that he should take your swollen clit between his fingers and roll it. When he does, your eyes shut again, and your head loops and swirls the way his skin does in his fingerprints. 

Touch is not the only sense bringing new information. He’s even starting to see new colors, no longer primary in nature, but more evolved. Mahogany to maroon to mauve, the color of your flesh when heat and pressure move through it. Bursts of glitter where the tips of his fingers alternate between the room’s heating air and your heated sea, the inside of the knuckle of his thumb working with the inside of the top knuckle of his forefinger.

When he glances at the two of you in the mirror, your body writhing in ecstasy, and his eyes shining with lewd delight, he thinks that it looks like he’s sending you little finger hearts.

“Wanna know more,” he murmurs. 

He licks your cheek, and your body starts to shake. He grunts as he uses his body to cage you in, looping his ankles around yours, and clasping his other arm even tighter around you. Ironic, perhaps, as he had wanted to unleash you. But now, he’s realizing that he wants to unleash something from within.

“More about you.”

His hand grasps your chin, fingers and thumb digging into your cheeks, forcing your gaze to meet his in the mirror. He holds you there for a moment so that you can see what he sees.  

“More of you.”

There aren’t just colors now. There’s enticing, immeasurable depth to every part of you now. Your bright, ravenous eyes. Your licentious, loose lips. Your voluptuous body. Your vivid clit, nearly bursting at the way Jin’s fingers are now starting to milk it.

“What turns you on.” 

You celebrate the sybaritic, Jin’s alluring voice, and his decadent fingers swirling in your opulent shine. You don’t mean to whine so much, but your whines aren’t the reason Jin’s free hand snakes up between your breasts to clutch your neck, a collar to go with the cage.

“How you turn yourself on.”

You have to agree that you look exquisite like this in the shimmering mix of the glow of the late afternoon sun, the thrill of the familiar, and the augur of something newly, beautifully devastating.

“How I can turn you on.”

His flexible fingers and wriggling wrist don’t seem to tire of winding you up, so you keep spiraling, confused about why the astonishing blitz of a daze hasn’t set on yet. You need to lunge forward. Your veins are screaming. Your pulse is a straight line. Where else is there to go? 

“How I can be there for you.” 

His arm digs in just below your stomach, and you cry out at the interlocking of the final, missing piece. The added pressure sends you into overdrive. Your heart is working so forcefully that each one of your senses is heightened. As streams of ambrosia spill out of you, you see a melding of forms in the mirror. The smell of hard work deliciously paying off. The savor of Jin’s lips and tongue and sweat and saliva being emblazoned in your taste buds. The feel of more fabric around you dampening. The sound of your juices filling each capillary in your sheets. 

When that sound is replaced with a reverent silence, you slowly lean your head back onto Jin’s shoulder.

“H-have you, uh,” you nervously, arduously sigh, “have you ever made a girl… squirt… before?”

Jin just shakes his head. He can’t rip his eyes away from you, taking in every square inch of your body, your juices clinging to the soft hairs on your skin like morning dew on still-sleepy grass. Will you let him drink from the lotus next time? Let him not just eat, but feast? 

“It happens sometimes,” you admit. “When I get really, uh, excited.”

Jin rests his cheek against yours. 

“Weird?” you ask meekly.

“Gorgeous,” Jin whispers. He nudges your cheek with his and nods toward the mirror. You grin happily at his mischievous face when tells you, “Want it all over my face next time.”

His hand lazily massages your mound, careful not to touch your clit again just yet, in an attempt to help ease you down. 

You turn to face him. 

“Where did that come from?” you ask, nearly voiceless, but smiling brightly.

Jin shrugs, and you see him go back to whatever anxiety-ridden cave he was in earlier.

Wanting to balance everything out with a little more resolve, you ask, “Seriously, Jin, is everything OK?”

“It’s fine, I just…” 

Jin leans forward to kiss you, but you both keep your eyes open. Feeling caught, he pulls away. 

You study each other for a brief moment. 

You don’t know it, but you’re telling yourselves the same thing. 

That this is what it looks like when it means more.

Now isn’t the time for pride. “I just didn’t realize that I knew so little,” Jin says shyly.

“You know more than you might realize,” you counter. “It’s never been that intense.”

Rising a little, Jin asks, “Never?”

You smile and shake your head. 

“I mean it, y’know,” Jin squeaks. He scoots his hips down a little, taking you with him, making it easy for you both to lie flat together, with you straddling his still-clothed thigh. “When I said I wanted to know more. Do more. Be there. For you…”

He takes a deep breath, and you run your hand over his chest, playing with your name in yellow stitching again.

“I wanna keep going to brunch,” he says, trying to sound like he’s just decided it, though each sentence he tells you sounds more and more like he decided it long ago.

“Good,” you say, your heart waking. “I want that too.”

Jin hums happily. You follow his eyes as they catch on the ceiling.

“Is there something else?” you ask.

Jin tilts his head. “Well, now, I’m wondering…”

“Wondering what?”

He smiles and wiggles his leg, your clit jolting against his thigh. 

“Wondering how dark you can stain my jeans.”

[worminstuff]

Dreamwastaken x reader

pairing: dream x chromesthetic!reader

warnings:

summary: y/n had a bit of a not so good day so a bit of a chill night was clays solution

a/n:<chromesthesia is a type of synesthesia in which sound involuntarily evokes an experience of color, shape, and movement. Individuals with sound-color synesthesia are consciously aware of their synesthetic color associations/perceptions in daily life.>

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The spoon in y/n’s cup clinked against the sides while she stirred the warm tea she’d just made.

The day was rainy and cold, very gray and dreary. Y/n wasn’t fond of rain purely for the fact it wasn’t nice background noise. The pitter patter left an annoying pattern in the back of her head the entire day and it was just really not fun at all.

Clay was well aware of this, he sort of figured it out early on with how prominent y/n’s hatred of rain was. He remembers early on when they’d only talked through discord calls she used to ramble angrily about the rain outside her window. He never asked why, but after learning about how some noises effected her because of her chromesthesia he only figured this was one of those noises.

“Alright in there?” Clay said softly as he poked the side of her head. He’d made his way into the kitchen and unknowingly snuck up behind her.

She jumped a tad upon hesring him, “Oh- I- yeah. Yeah I’m alright.

Unconvinced, Clay placed a soft hand on her upper arm and rested his chin on her shoulder, “then why do you look so overwhelmed?”

He could really read her like a book and it was slightly intimidating.

“M’not..just annoying and all.” She mumbled, leaning her head against his. Clay slid an arm around her and pressed himself close, his head still on her shoulder.

“What’s annoying?” His thumb was brushing small circles into her hip.

“The rain. It’s all gray and shit.” Y/n’s brows furrowed and she pouted.

Clay held back a chuckle, not wanting to laugh at her annoyance, “How about we go sit and listen to some music?” He pulled his head off her shoulder to look at her.

Y/n thought for a second before looking up at him, “wanna listen to you.”

“To me?” He questioned.

Y/n nodded, a small pout still adorned her lips. Clay brushed his thumb over her bottom lip before placing a small kiss on it, “Hm. Alright. I can work with that.”

Gently he grasped her mug by the handle and placed it next to the sink, then he grabbed her hand to tug her along with him to his room.

He pulled a sweatshirt of his off a hanger in his open closet, handing it to her to pull on.

As she did, he pulled the extra pillows from his bed and pulled back the blankets for her to sit with him under.

Once they were all situated, y/n was sat against his chest and clay had her arms around her, clay looked down at her.

“What am I talking about?” He kept his voice soft, not snarky, and a little gravely. Almost exactly the same as his morning voice except without the trace of sleep in the undertones.

Y/n shrugged, clay rested his cheek against her head and laced his fingers with hers in both hands.

“How about...do you remember the first time you met my little sister?” He asked her, his thumb playing with hers.

Y/n nodded softly, trying to focus on the maroon red tones of his voice.

“I remember you were so nervous but she liked you immediately. You couldn’t keep that cute little grin off your face the whole time.” He paused for a moment. “I remember talking to my mom while watching you both, and she was asking me all these mom questions.” He chuckled softly,

Y/n focused on the way his chuckle looked like airy swirls, covering the gross looking rain sounds.

“She was totally trying to hint you would be an amazing mom, which I already knew, but it was sorta funny. I love seeing you with my family because i love how much they love to have you around.” He was pretty much just thinking out loud. “It’s like they almost love you as much as me.”

He paused. Y/n stared forward, eyes a tad wide.

“You...you what?” Y/n spoke gently, leaning forward a tad to turn and look at him.

“I- uh..yeah. I love you.”

It looked like a trillion little leaves pulling together into a neat little pile. It looked like a sweet hum, it was such a beautiful sentence. Y/n fully turned her body, sitting criss cross between his legs now.

“Say that again.” Y/n looked at him, her eyes curious and a giddy little grin on her face.

Clay chuckled, “I love you y/n.”

Y/n dramatically fell back onto the blankets. “Again!”

Clay leaned forward placing a teasing kiss on her lips, “are you gonna say it back or?..” he hummed teasingly

Y/n giggled and clay grinned wildly, “I love you too.”

Clay tackled her into a hug while showering her in kisses all over her face.

Maybe the rain wasn’t so bad.

[statticscribbles]

Marvel/DC Masterlist

Avengers

General

Two

Still

Wrestle

Room

Sharing (Bucky)

Rescue (peggy natasha centric)

Rescue Pt 2

Rescue Pt 3

Bucky Barnes/Reader

Lifeboat

For Sale

Mission Pt 1: Backlog

Oh Baby

Plus Sized (Headcanons)

Summon (Halloween)

Shadow Help (Halloween)

Dating (Headcanons)

Baby (Headcanons)

Going Steady

Devil’s Playground

My Little Girl

Courting (a/b/o dynamics)

Courting Pt 2 (a/b/o dynamics)

Baking

Heal

Winter (soulmate AU)

Type

Empathic Synesthetes Pt 1

ES: Pt 2

ES: Pt 3

ES: Pt 4

ES: Pt 5

ES Pt 6

ES Pt 7

ES Pt 8 (smut)

Surprise Santa

Baby Holiday 

Last Christmas

Second Gift

White Christmas

Hallelujah

Dad Age

Initial (ftm reader Soulmate AU)

Dream Share (soulmate)

Initial Baby (ftm smut)

Double Check (soulmate au)

Iced

Steve Rogers/Reader

Gala (Holiday Challenge)

Gala Pt 2

Date Pt 2 (pt 1 sam/Reader)

Past Hope Pt 1

Past Hope Pt 2

Past Hope Pt 3

Past Hope Pt 4

Past Hope Pt 5

Past Hope Pt 6 (smut)

For Christmas

Expense

Wrong Flirt

Dirty Thoughts (smut)

Planned

Peggy Carter/Reader/Bucky Barnes

Mission Pt1: Backlog

Sam Wilson/Reader

Date

Natasha Romanoff/Reader

Latrodectus Pt 1

Latrodectus Pt 2

Bounty (male)

War is Over

What If Pt 1

What If Pt 2

What If Pt 3

What If Pt 4

What If Pt 5

What If Pt 6

Meeting

Clint Barton/Reader

Mission First

Sign

Loki/Reader

Dating (Headcanons)

Baby (Headcanons)

Prayer Pt 1

Prayer Pt 2

Helmut Zemo/Reader

Meet Cute Pt 1

Meet Cute Pt 2

Felica Hardy/Reader

Family Opinions

Jessica Jones/Luke Cage

Timer

Peter Parker/Felicia Hardy

Dreamer

Peter Parker/Wade Wilson

Mind’s Eye

Bar Hopping

Bar Hopping Pt 2

Miles Morales/Gwen Stacy

Temperature

Sharon Carter/ Sam Wilson

Mission

Vampy (Halloween Challenge)

Roommate Pt 1

Roommate Pt 2

Meaning

Natasha Romanoff/Yelena Belova

Settle

Assure

Pauk

Sestra

Song

Braid

Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

In Need

Drift

Natasha Romanoff/Steve Rogers

Wake Up

Perfect

Peter Parker/Zarda

Meet and Greet

Tandy Bowen/Tyrone Johnson

Masked Ball

Peggy Carter/Natasha Romanoff

Forgive Me

Wanda Maximoff/OC

Holy

Fantastic Four:

Johnny Storm/Reader

Hot Girl Bummer

X-Men

General:

Hero

Babysitting

Family Conference

Totally Fucked

Late Bloomer(a/b/o Dynamics)

Baby Daddy Masterlist

Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr

Name

Dark Kingdom

Peter Maximoff/Alex Summers

Get Me The Moon

Charles Xavier/Reader

Help

Erik Lehnsherr/Reader

Almost

Raven Darkholme/ Reader

Human

Mirror (soulmate au)

Peter Maximoff/Reader

Show Off (male)

Forever After All

Babe

Wade Wilson/Reader

Blast

Sidekick

Kurt Wagner/Reader

Baby

Dance

Hand

Hank McCoy/Reader

Words

Visibility

Cancer

Jean Grey/Reader

Weapon (Male Reader)

Thinking (Male)

David Haller/Ruth Aldine

Talk

DC Comics

Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle

Night

Barry Allen/Reader

Hocus Pocus (Male Reader)

Reverse

Iris West/Reader

Wedge

Barry Allen/Eddie Thawne

Jealousy

Clark Kent/Diana Prince

Hero Mark

Barbara Gordon/Reader

Masked

John Stewart/Shayera Hol

Progression (Soulmate AU)

[gaitwae]

Neuro [|] Loki x Synesthete!Reader

Before you read: Synesthesia is NOT something you should pretend to have. It’s a true disorder, and can be quite distracting/uncomfortable at times. If you believe you have synesthesia, you can usually tell because of the involuntary trigger/activation of one or more senses. This one shot deals exclusively with visual/audio synesthesia and scent/audio synesthesia. 

When you listen to music and see a color in your mind’s eye/imagine a movie in your head, that is NOT synesthesia but association. There’s nothing wrong with that, but the description of the following one shot can be a little confusing. [I’m also pointing this out because a youtuber I was watching decided to drop a little bomb about the condition and was clearly faking. Younger readers, remember this.] My synesthesia can obscure my vision with floaters, and even block out whatever I was looking at before, and cause physical spasms that I have a tough time getting rid of. You can have any type of synesthesia; it’s just a blending of the senses.

Warnings: None!

Summary: Loki brings home a CD and asks what you’re seeing. 

Requested by: @the-emo-asgardian 

Tag List: @make-me-imagine @thorfanficwriter @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @frostedgiant @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @amwolowicz​ @itscomplicatedx​ @sophlubbwriting​​​

Loki hated wearing ties nowadays. The feeling of something around his neck was frustrating, and often made his eyes cloud with orange. Midgard’s clothing restrictions were far less than Asgard’s, but he still hated it after a while. Coming home to take off the old tie would always be worth it… and then… There was Y/N to come home to. 

His spouse. 

Being married to a Midgardian was the last thing he had ever thought he would do. Luckily for Loki, there was no other person quite like you. You had shown up, met his every criteria (honestly, he suspected you were a witch at the start), and also harbored something he had never known another person to have.

Perhaps it was the lack of asking about it. Perhaps it was the clear irregularity. Loki always thought it came with the ability to use magic — how relieved he was when he found it wasn’t the case. Yet at the same time, he wondered if you just didn’t know you were magical. He wouldn’t be opposed to his suspicions becoming fact in the slightest.

Speaking of Y/N, where was she? “Darling!” he called. There was the faint blast of music coming from the bedroom. He stepped through the door, throwing his coat on the rack. “Darling, can you hear me?”

“I’m upstairs!” your beautiful voice came from the loft. His heart melted a bit. This was the house Loki had built with you. Every time you were exploring the interior, every time you bought a new plant, decorated, painted, cooked, he felt like he had married a dream. How could you possibly be real?

“I love you!” he shouted. He finished pulling his tie off his neck, rolling up his sleeves as he stomped up the stairs. The house smelled like blue — Y/N must have made a pastry of sorts. A small wave of violins washed over his ears, but he shook his head and focused on what was outward. 

“I love you!” his spouse called back. He slowly opened the door to the bedroom, careful not to make any noise and disturb you from your… well, whatever it was you called your phasing out. You enjoyed triggering it much more than he did. He snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your body lightly. 

You jumped slightly, but relaxed against him. You hummed. “Hi, Loki.”

“What do you see?” he asked, pulling you in his lap. You turn the dial on your stereo, increasing the volume. Loki took in your scent, staring at the plain white wall to watch the soft tendrils of yellow curl around each other. 

“A bright pink cloud,” you answered. “And blue fireworks. It’s an interesting combination.”

“What was the last one?”

“The last one,” you repeated, blinking once or twice. Loki rubbed your arms. “When the bridge hit, my arms started twitching. The singer’s voice triggered some type of bright orange.”

“Oh, orange smells awful; like burning tires. It sounds like the C Major scale,” he said. He rested his head on top of yours. “We’re feeling physical, today?”

“More like this week,” you laughed. You shut off the stereo, moving around to wrap your arms around his neck. He smiled. Oh, by the Norns, did he love you. “My legs won’t stop spazzing. Maybe punk pop isn’t a good idea.”

“Perhaps just sleep it off,” he suggested. He didn’t see the lights and clouds with music. It wasn’t quite as vivid as you had described for him, either. Smell set him off, yes, but his results were mixed with audio as well. 

“Sleeping it off doesn’t do anything; I’ve been trying to blend them all the best I can,” you sighed. Loki pet your hair, kissing your lips sweetly and slowly. You kissed back. He sighed into it and smiled. 

Pulling away from you, he said, “Well, do what you need to, to equalize. I want to find that food you made.” 

“You mean the cake?”

“Yes. Chocolate, right?”

You smiled, standing up and pulling him down. “Of course, chocolate!”

[love-pyramus]

Newsies Masterlist

The Refuge -Platonic!JackCrutchie x fem!reader

Band AU

Sanders Sides Newsies Story

JackCrutchie demi-god headcanons

Look at me -JackCrutchie

Jack has synesthesia -Threes The Day

Random synesthesia HCs

Autistic synesthete Jack Kelly Masterlist

Date Night -Crutchie x reader

Habits Are Hard To Break Masterlist

Trans Spot and Jack HCs (ft King and Mouse)

Newsies Incorrect Quotes pt 1

Newsies Incorrect Quotes pt 2

Race x Reader drabble

[vergils-daughter]

Nero x V x Reader. Because why not. "I want both of you"

Sooner or later it had to come to this. Your group fought your way through districts full of demons week after week and all that time spent together brought you closer to each other, whether you wanted it or not. All that intensive fighting, long hours spent searching through the ruins, heavy physical exertion. You on the edge of your nerves because death is always very close. All this created sort of a gap between your group and the rest of the world – all that you had left behind the military blockade set up to keep the civilians away from the forbidden grounds. One moment you caught yourself thinking that all that you could recall from your previous life seemed almost like a dream – something stupendous, far away and unreal.

It's here and now. There is blood, sweat and adrenaline that pushes into your veins every time you encounter an artifact or a group of demons. And then there is them – these two men, in the beginning so very distant and now so close. Perhaps the only remaining human beings in the distance of many kilometers. Nero and V, the young boy with artificial arm and the tatooed summoner.

To be honest, it is hard to say when exactly you started to notice them. When their status changed from brothers in arms to someone you really depend on. Whose attention and applause you seek. Whose touch and voice you need so desperately in this scary place. It was enough that one of them lent you a hand and supported you when you were climbing. You knew that he held you longer than was needed. Or when you were standing next to each other and your arms touched. You were feeling that your skin was tingling and you felt warmth. Or when you were staying in one of the many abandoned houses, locking doors and checking every corner before laying down. You were all sleeping in one room, for safety reasons. After the whole day you were so exhausted that it wasn't important if you fell asleep in a single bed or on the same couch. Well, not cuddling, but so close that when morning caught you, you woke up with someone's leg on your thigh or fingers entangled in your hair. You where changing your clothes without paying attention whether any of the two saw you. But then there was the day you realized that something changed in the way they looked at you, it distinctively began to feel as if they were touching you.

And then you knew that you want to be touched by them.

It started to disturb you a little. Not that it made you feel embarrassed, but you could not stop thinking about it. When you caught yourself staring at Nero's butt and almost twisted your ankle, you rebuked yourself: the missions should be above it all. Artifacts and demons' nests – those are your priorities. You cannot allow dirty thoughts to hinder you in fulfilling your duties, goddammit!

Or so you were saying to yourself. But the tension between you three was beginning to grow just to big to ignore.

That night you managed to find quite a groovy apartment. The place did not suffer much from the recent events and somehow even had running water! That itself was a miracle. When you finished your meal, Nero went to the bathroom first, wordlessly leaving all the preparations for the night to you and V. That always took some time, but at night demons could be a great pain in the ass. Some doors and windows still needed checking and barring.

Then it was finally your turn to take the advantage of the unusual blessing of water. You returned, relaxed, with your hair still wet. As V disappeared in the bathroom, you noticed Nero trying to tend to his wounded arm all by himself.

You told Nero to lay down and, ignoring his feeble protests, you kneeled next to him. Outside it was dark now and you did not light any lights to avoid bringing unwanted attention. However, you needed to have a look, so you decided to light a single candle. You took Nero's hand and placed it gently on your tights. The wound did not look serious. It must have been caused by a strike of a Qliphot tendril, probably the last one that all of a sudden bursted from beneath the surface. It could be infected, though, so you decided to take care of it. After all, you were the only shaman and healer in this group, which made your hands full almost all the time.

The boy put his cybernetic arm under his head and watched you from under the eyelashes. He looked as if he was going to fall asleep. As you were focused on casting a healing spell and wrapping the arm in bandages, your mind - ever alert in this environment - took an  almost subconscious notice of V returning. The summoner sat just behind you.

"It should be okay now" - you said, knotting the bandage and putting off the candle. Despite the darkness, you saw his bright eyes fixed on your face. Faint moonlight penetrated the cracks in the windows and illuminated his white hair, still wet and glittering as though they were made of silver. He looked so innocent and... appealing. A paradox. Not thinking much, you raised your hand to his face and ruffled his hair. The surprised look on his face amused you.

"Its time to sleep" - you said, but in the meantime you realized that with the other hand you were still holding his wounded hand on your tights. Pressing it to your skin, not wanting to let go. And his fingers slowly began to react, barely noticeably stroking you. As if he were scratching a cat's ear.

And all of sudden you noticed several things. The silence, which was thick and heavy, the only audible thing being your breaths. That you are wearing only your tank top and panties. That both men were half naked. You became very aware of V's silent presence, just behind you, perhaps closer than before. Nero's stroking hand slowly, slowly moved around your thigh. You were so very close to each other that you could feel the heat that came from them. You were all still wet, cooled with the shower, but burning hot inside.

There was no option that you could fall asleep like this. That any of you could.

 But someone had to take the first step.

"You seem... tense" - V's silent voice broke the silence. At the same time his hands touched your shoulders. You shut your eyes, putting yourself under this soft caress, feeling a pleasant shiver that went along your spine. V's hands dropped to the edge of your shirt, his fingers gently slid beneath it and with a decisive move he pulled upwards.

"You do not need this, do you?" - he said and you obediently rose your arms to let him take it off completely.

Now you heard Nero draw a loud breath. Averting his gaze from you was beyond him, he kept looking at your bare breasts it seemed you made quite an impression as he stopped stroking your thigh. But V, he did not waste his time. As soon as he let the shirt drop his hands gently dropped back on your shoulders and slid down to your breasts. His fingers crushed your nipples, causing you to moan. You tilted your head back, leaning it on his chest. V kissed your temple.

Nero suddenly sat up and leaned towards you. Two men tensed, though V did not stop what he was doing with your nipples. They looked each other straight in the eyes, and in that look you saw - or at least imagined you saw - challenge, irritation and perhaps a question. For a moment they looked like two dogs ready to jump at each other. No, you corrected yourself immediately, like a young wolf and a black panther. And then Nero made a decision. He rose as if he wanted to go away, averting his eyes from both you and V. You grabbed his hand before he managed to pull it away.

"And where do you think you are going?" - you asked, your voice strangely hoarse, as V's hands were doing some pretty amazing things with your breasts. - "Don't you dare walk away".

The boy sat down, clearly confused about what to do next, consternation all over his face. The quiet V's chuckle, that came right above your ear, did not encourage Nero at all.

"Oh, I see, our shaman really took to her heart all our teamwork advice. You wish to embody them all, here and now, don't you?" - he said, biting your ear. - "You want to be fair on the battlefield where the fight is always the most passionate and harsh?"

"I simply want you both" - you answered. V said nothing to that, but you could bet he smirked, as he used to. You pulled Nero closer, so that the heads of the three of you touched for a moment. You kissed him hard on his lips. They felt warm, but dry. As you licked them he finally decided to cooperate and tried to kiss back. Now you moved away, and looked him straight in the eyes. "Take me now, you hear me? And you, V, hold me. Tight".

V now seemed very amused and listened right away. He shifted his arms and pulled you slightly upwards so that your head leveled with his. You leaned your head over his shoulder and pushed your hips upwards encouragingly.

Nero pulled the panties off your body so fast he almost ripped them. He grabbed you by your tights and pulled them apart and upwards. You were now almost hanging between them, your toes barely touching the bed sheets, but somehow stable. Oh god, it felt great.

Nero entered fast and hard, just as you hoped he would. His cock was thick and the first push made you hiss. As usual the anticipation and the arousal made you tight down below, but you did not mind the pain.

"I am sorry" - he muttered between thrusts. You stroked his head with one hand, the other was leaning on V's thigh. You tried to relax your muscles and after a moment you felt your pussy adjust to Nero. Your moist walls embraced his dick. Every push was feeling more pleasurable and one of the poet's hands was still petting your breasts.  

Through the sound of blood pulsing in your veins and your erratic breathes you heard a silent hum, somewhere by your ear. On your tongue, you somehow felt the taste of wine and rose fruits, synesthetic experiences leading you straight to the land of happiness...

"Do not stop!" - you growled.

 "I am sorry" - Nero said again, as his breath became erratic and heavy. "But i... will come... in a second...".

At first you wanted to reassure him or to scold him, but in your current state you just could not decide, you could not think clearly at all. All was irrelevant, as long as it lasted.

It looked like Nero was that kind of guy that discharged fast and full. His face turned red. He closed his eyes, his motions became even stronger, faster and more intense. The last few thrusts were so strong that V had problems supporting you two on his side. His back was pressed against the wall behind him and he was taking all the impact of your bodies. Nero came inside you with a cry – you found it cute, you have never heard man respond like that to orgasm. A few second he was staying still, gasping, and then he pulled himself out of you, left down your legs. He took a step or two back and lay dropped on the bed.

"O my god" he purred.

V was still silently humming, you felt the vibrations in his chest. You turned around to face him. Your look was dark, concentrated, your body throbbing and wet. You took his face in your hands and kissed him, not even trying to be gentle, pushing your tongue inside his mouth, tasting him, growling and twining from eagerness.

"Take me now, fast" - you hissed to his lips. V only smiled and shook his head. For that, you felt like killing him there and now. You grabbed him by his pants and started pulling down, but he grabbed your wrists and twisted them.

"Teamwork, remember, witch?" - he said. He lifted you a little, flipped you over and pushed you towards  the bed. Now you were kneeling over Nero.

"Now is your turn to help me. Wake up!" - new sparkles light up in Nero's sleepy eyes. The boy drew you closer in and hugged around your nape, causing you to lay down on him, breasts on chest. V, on his side, pulled your hips, lifting them higher. You felt his body almost adhere to your back. He was much taller than you and could easily cover you all. He kissed your neck.

"You need to accommodate to my dynamics. But right now you are like broken instrument. I have to tune you in. To work on you a little..."

"Just... I am begging you, be careful there, ok?" - whispered Nero, his voice a little whimsical and a little serious. V laughed loudly.

"I think both of you could ask me the same, am I right?" - he said. "Truth to be told, I am not sure whose hand or leg is where."

"I do not care about legs or hands, just aim correctly, dammit!"

Yes, great, and now they began joking. You were trapped between them, withering from desire, barely breathing. And they – they decided to start some sort of comedy. V's cock was nudging your buttocks. one of his hands pushed between your bodies and you felt his fingers parting your labia. He found clit and with his cold fingers he started to tease it, every move causing trembles within you. And yet, he did not stop talking.

"Kallipygos in Greek means 'with beautiful buttocks'. And this caramel skin. You are like Amazon, emerging though the wild forest..." - an another spasm of pleasure jolted through your body. - "With this windswept auburn hairs of yours you look like wild, untamed..."

"This is only a bit better than his poetry" - whispered Nero straight to your ear. There was no option for V not to overhear. He snorted with laughter, and you almost sobbed from disappointment when he stopped the caress. You jerked, full of anger, but Nero held you in place.  

"V, I am losing my mind here" - you coughed up with your face pressed to Nero's neck. "I will garrote you both, I swear to god!"

"Look what you are doing, boy" - said poet mockingly. - "You are upsetting our shaman. She indeed loves to hear my voice, doesn't she?" - He growled the last words straight into your ears. To your relief, his fingers came back between your tights, slid into your folds and parted them. The tip of his cock touched your vagina, pulled back and returned, this time pushing hard inside, but only a little. You were certain now – he was a fucking sadist.

And he was still talking, with his voice full of content. It may be he even quoted. You recognized some of Blake's verses.

"The naked woman's body is a portion of eternity too great for the eye of man."

A lunatic and sadist, yes.

 "Pleeeease..."

"I cannot hear you, my dear"

Just do it! Now!" - you screamed so loud, that Nero surely heard ringing in his ears. - "Do not torment me anymore, please, I.... ohh!" - V pushed inside you, unbearingly slow. He was different from Nero, longer, but not so massive. He was playing with you, searching for a proper position, his hips making subtle motions. And when finally he started riding you, he was doing it in a monotonous rhythm.

Now suddenly he was quieter than Nero, no longer quoting, he did not even gasp. You could not see his face, but you were sure there was an expression close to contemplation on it. This was all V – man with studied, slow gestures, not throwing his word on wind. Tasting every moment of life.

It was silent. Only the rustling of linen and your breathes.

Nero's hug lightened. He started to soothe your hair and shoulders. The entire scene became intimate and sweet, everything was soft like a fluff. Just beautiful. You realized that you somehow love these two men. The flow of emotions pushed the tears from your eyes and even the forthcoming orgasm did not interrupt the lyrical mood.

V's breath clipped, became erratic. He leaned tighter on you, snuggling into your back. You tasted the flavor of distant despair, a scream full of pain resonated and echoed somewhere. But the vision faded out before it even pealed out fully, swept of with the wave of orgasm – yours and his. You bit your lips in fear that not the expected moan would come out, but sobbing.

Only the silent sigh escaped his mouth with the last spasm.

You were completely drained. After V released you, you slid off of Nero and lay beside him. V followed, he snuggled to your back and embraced your waist. His face touched your neck. It felt wet.

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Synesthetic

Author’s note: This chapter is based on the moment before Adrian goes to Adam Vega’s house to buy his vote. I’m not an Adrian stan, but he got me when he said he’s a David Bowie fan and I love a man with good music taste. It’s been a while since the last time I posted a fic and I’m happy to come back on a Thursday. [All characters are owned by Pixelberry studios] 

Book: Bloodbound Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Samantha) Rating: E Word count: 1481 Summary: Adrian and Samantha drive back from the meeting with Adam Vega and get to know each other better through their music tastes. Based on the (music) prompt: Do I Wanna Know?

Warning: This piece contains scenes (mentions of blood kink) unsuitable for minor audiences which may be disturbing/offensive for some people. Reader discretion is advised.

On the way back from the meeting with Adam Vega, Samantha rests her head against the window of Adrian’s car. With his eyes entirely focused on the road, the car is filled with silence. She fidgets for a moment, then plays with ends of her hair trying to think about something else except being anxious about meeting powerful vampire clan leaders who had to be bribed so Lily could have a chance to be alive. To get her mind off things, she turns the radio on and an upbeat Latin pop song starts pumping in the car stereo speakers. Adrian cocks an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, right. You probably prefer classical?”

“Why? Because I’m two hundred years old? Awfully presumptuous of you, Samantha,” he says dryly.

She blushes, “No, I… I just thought… I mean…”

He chuckles. “I’m joking. I do like what you call ‘classical’… But I also enjoy modern music, I always have. I was actually quite good friends with David Bowie, you know.”

“You do know Bowie isn’t exactly modern, right?”

“That’s a relative term and he released his last album just two years ago,” he smirks.

“Okay. Wait… was Bowie a vampire?”

“No, but I remain unconvinced he was entirely human,” he gave her a skeptical look.

“Heh…but at least your alien friend used to listen to some of nowadays music artists,” she giggles.

“I highly doubt he liked one of these Selena Gomez’s songs,“ he crinkled his nose, "but he introduced me to Lorde.”

“Have you actually met Lorde?” her eyes go wide. He nods smiling. “How often do you go out to parties with famous people? Is it always just business? I mean, you were friends with Bowie and he was a wild guy back in the day. Do you like to attend all these extravagant parties?”

"Are you always this curious?” he questioned, smirking slyly in an attempt to intimidate her and make her stop asking so much about him. The more she knows about him, the more complicated their boss/employee relationship can get.

"Only when I’m eager to know more,” she says. His plan to intimidate her backfired, she’s getting more audacious. He shouldn’t indulge her answering, yet he finds himself trying to satisfy her curiosity.

“I go out a lot, but it’s usually business. People don’t want to talk about business during formal meetings and it’s actually easier to find potential partnerships at eccentric parties than anywhere else. I’ve been introduced to many celebrities, but I just keep in touch with the ones I work with. And no, I’d prefer to stay at home or go to a rock concert in a small venue or have a drink in a low key jazz and blues club.”

“Rock, jazz and blues fan, huh? Do you mind if I listen to one of my favorite rock songs?”

“By all means,“ he replies. He can’t deny he wants to know more about her and her music taste is a good start. She connects her phone with Adrian’s car audio system and scrolls on her phone screen looking for a song. She smiles slyly and presses play. A low enticing rock beat comes out of the car speakers. From the corner of the eye, he watches her moving her upper body to the rhythm of the music as she begins to lip-sync the song.

“I had no idea that you’re in deep / I dreamt about you near me / every night this week / How many secrets can you keep?”

He tries to focus on the road again, but Samantha is giving him a hard time. He craves her more than she could ever imagine and succumbed to her needs in the night before by Turning Lily and when she wanted to cuddle. But right there, in his car, he could sense her eyes lusting him, her mauve plush lips whispering those suggestive lyrics about wanting someone so badly and wishing to be reciprocated. He is slowly losing willpower.

Adrian makes a detour and stops at a secluded place by the Hudson River. He unbuckles his seat belt and pulls Samantha by her neck and waist into a searing kiss. 

She frees herself from the seat belt and straddles Adrian, tugging his suit, earning a groan in response. 

He lifts her skirt up as caresses her thighs and buttcheeks, revealing her black stockings. "Damnit, Samantha…” he says marveling at her delicate underwear.

“If you like the stockings, I’m sure you’ll love to see the whole set,” she purrs unbuttoning her shirt and tossing it aside, exposing the black organza bra with small embroideries. 

He hungrily kisses her cleavage, his teeth scraping her skin as he pulls down the sheer fabric. 

She gasps, her fingers twining in his hair while she moves her hips against him. 

He sucks one of her nipples, teasing the other with his thumb and forefinger. His free hand roams up her thigh, pushes her panties aside and caresses the pink wet flesh between her legs. 

She moans quietly, grinding on his hand. She unzips his pants, fishing his cock and strokes it. His hot and shallow breath against her chest builds a warm sensation all over her body and she can’t take it anymore. “I need you inside me,” she murmurs.

“Are you sure?” He stops, studying her face, searching her approval.

“Yes. Please, just take me.”

He obliges pulling down his seat as she helps him remove his suit and pants. 

She lowers herself on him, relishing the feeling of Adrian into her watching his clear blues eyes turn red. She rocks her body, ranking her hands up her own torso as the pleasure slowly increased. 

He bucks his hips, holding her by the waist, mesmerized at sight of her riding him. Breasts bouncing, teeth nibbling her bottom lip, sun-kissed skin glowing from sweat, flushed cheeks. His car has tinted windows, but he’s quite sure she wouldn’t care about being caught by people jogging at the riverbank. The thrill suddenly makes him thirsty. He inhales sharply and concentrates on her giving her pleasure. I can’t feed on her. Not right now.

“You’re so good, Adrian. So good,” she pants. 

He helps her move up and down but doesn’t set the pace. She’s the one taking control and she’s loving it. Her hand slides down her back and reaches for his testicles, rubbing them gently. He closes his eyes, letting out a guttural grunt. 

She has no idea how bad he wants her blood and the effect of her hand caressing is driving him insane. His thrusts meet her pace and her eyes flutter shut. “I’m so close,” she whimpers.

He sits up and grabs her ass, moving her faster. She wraps her arms around him for support pulling him closer. Her smell is intoxicating, the proximity to her skin and her walls pulsing around his length send him to the edge. 

Samantha runs her nails on his back and shudders, finding her release at last. 

Adrian lies down and heaves a deep sigh. 

She follows, resting her head on his broad chest. “Are you alright?” He says, pushing a strand of hair from her sweaty face.

“Yes,” she answers trying to catch her breath. “It’s just… It was… Wow!”

He chuckles. “I’m elated to know you enjoyed it,” he replies, staring at the ceiling of his car.

She notices his sudden aloofness and tilts her head to look at him. “And did you enjoy it?”

He’s hungrier than before. His blood red eyes could give him away, yet she doesn’t know him that well to recognize the signs. “It was marvelous, Samantha. But we have to avoid doing this in public places under the sunlight.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. We should go, right?”  

“Yes, we should,” he plants a soft kiss on her lips and they collect their clothes to get dressed before they adjust the seat and drive back to Raines Corp building. While she chooses the next to play in the car, he smiles to himself, unaware she is glancing at him from the corner of an eye.

“I couldn’t help but notice, Mr. Raines, that you said ‘we have to a avoid this in public places’. Does it mean you want it to happen again?” She smirks.

He shakes his head thinking about the mess he just himself into. “And that’s what I get for hiring a perceptive assistant. Are you sure you don’t want to be debriefed?” He smiles sardonically.

“Ha ha. Not a chance, Adrian,” she leans in to kiss his cheek. He grins and, despite his hunger, drives calmly during all the way back.

[thequietkid-moonie]

Masterlist

Spy x Family

🐭 The Forger with an autistic child

🐭 Their disciple disgaised as a housekeeper (Loid, Yor, Anya)

🐭 General Relationship Headcanons (Yor)

🐭 In love with a caotic and clumsy reader (Yuri)

🐭 Fake dating a unpredictable and carefree reader (Loid)

🐭 Synesthetic!S/O can see his emotions (Yuri)

🐭 Their child experience their first crush (Loid & Yor)

🐭 Falling in love with her fake spouse (Fiona)

🐭 S/O struggles with self-harm (Yor)

🖤 Darling jokes about running away (Yor, Yuri)