#he suited this concept so well hes so handsome so talented | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forever-rogue · 11 months

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Omg for miguel requests!! Can i request one where spider-reader is very bold and always flirting with miguel and one time he flirts back and she gets super flustered and doesnt know how to respond😭

Thank you so much!! I love your writing youre so talented

AN | No, but this concept was aces! I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings | [Suggestive] Language

Pairing | Miguel x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Main, Spider-Man

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You could hear his angry footsteps before anything else and you braced yourself for his fury. Instead you busied yourself with looking at your suit to make sure everything was intact…or at least pretending to do so.

"What the fuck were you thinking!?" ahh yes, there it was. He was definitely angry, but you tried to keep it cool. You weren't about to admit that he made you nervous, even if the nerves were slight. You looked up from your sleeve and blinked innocently at him, "don't do that!"

"Do what?" You kept your voice sweet and soft, "what are you talking about, Miguel?"

"You - I - you are so infuriating!" he waved his finger in front of your face and you simply shrugged, "you never listen to me! I don't know why I even let you stay on the team!"

"Oh Miguelito," you gently reached up and brushed his hand out of your face. You were well aware of what he was talking about - you'd directly gone against his orders. But, to be fair, things had turned out just fine despite choosing your own method. It wasn't like you'd fucked up some cannon event, "everything's fine and no one got hurt!"

"But you don't listen," he sighed heavily, "that's the problem. And one day, it's going to get someone hurt. I'm not going to let you do that to anyone…or yourself."

"You're so cute," a dreamy sigh escaped your lips as you touched his face, brushing your knuckles across his cheek. He lightly slapped your hand away, "but you're going to give yourself wrinkles if you keep worrying."

"I'm being serious!"

"So am I," you raised your eyebrows and sighed at him, "I won't do anything bad and I'd never put anyone else in danger. You know that."

"One more fuck up from you and you're done," his voice was low and dangerous and you pulled back slightly, "I mean it. Just because you think you're so cute and charming doesn't mean I can't see right through you."

"Miguel," you looked at him with wide eyes, "I don't think I'm cute - I know I'm cute. But not as cute as you, handsome. Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go and make a few suit adjustments."

"This isn't over!" His cheeks darkened as he watched you walk away.

"I'd be disappointed if it was," you gave him a small salute, "see ya, Miguelito!"

He let out a sigh of exasperation as you walked away. It was definitely a challenge not to stare at your ass but he was just a man after all. So he definitely stared at your ass.

"Stop staring," Peter popped up behind him, causing Miguel to flinch, "just tell her you're in love!"

"I'm not…" he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm not in love with her and I'm not doing this with you right. Get back to work, Parker."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a few days since what you had decided to dub the incident had occurred. You'd more or less ignored Miguel, deciding to let him cool down on his own terms. You missed getting to give him a hard time and missed getting to tease him as you loved.

The thing was, you didn’t hate Miguel. It was…quite the contrary in fact. Over the last year that you’d been working for the man, or on his silly little team as you liked to tease him, you’d found yourself getting more and more attached to him. You really liked him and you weren’t shy about letting him know. You thought you were being obvious, but apparently you weren’t obvious at all because he didn’t seem to get it. Or, if he did, he really wasn’t interested and chose not to acknowledge your moves. It was Miguel though, and you were sure he would have just told you…but then again, would he have? Maybe he was just a simple-”

“What’s wrong, princess?” you started at the sound of his low, gruff voice. You hadn’t heard him sneak up and his sudden appearance almost scared you off your chair. Clutching at your heart, you looked over to see Miguel leaning against the edge of your desk, a lazy smile on his face. You were stunned by both his appearance and his casual display of affection, and could only manage to open and close your mouth a few times, “cat got your tongue?”

“Miguel?” you looked at him with wide eyes, “w-what are you doing…here?”

“Just wanted to come and see my favorite girl,” okay, there was definitely something going on. You highly doubted you were his favorite girl (that was probably Jessica or Mayday), let alone his favorite anything, “I have something for you.”

“For me?” your mouth ran dry as he nodded. Was he flirting with you? Surely he couldn’t be, “what would that be?”

“Here,” he reached behind his back and pulled out what looked like your suit…only this was slightly different. He placed it on the desk in front of you before moving to stand behind you. His larger frame easily dwarfed yours, and that was something you tried to push out of your mind. You looked over the suit, trailing your fingers over the soft fabric, “I made some adjustments to it. I think you’ll find it easier to access web fluid and its got better repair tech. Something new Parker was working on.”

You let out a small breath of amazement; this was an incredibly kind gesture from anyone, spider-people did happen to be generous for the most part, but this was next level. You re-familiarized yourself with the pink, blue, and purple fabric. A smile crossed your features as you turned your head to look at him. You found him watching you intently, “thank you, Miguel. This is…amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” his voice was near your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin, “maybe it’ll help you to listen next time, hmm?”

“Miguel,” you turned in your seat and found yourself face to face with him, noses almost brushing. Whatever you were about to say quickly left your mind as you looked into his pretty brown eyes. A sharp inhale escaped your lips and you noticed the smile on his face grow larger, “I, ugh…I…”

“Hmm?’ it was a small sound of the back of his throat as he regarded you. He reached up and touched your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “what’s up?”

“I umm,” you stammered nervously, trying to ignore the feeling of his skin on yours, “I gotta go. I-I think Peter needed me for something.”

“He’s out on assignment right now.”

“Mayday then,” you volunteered slinking out from under his arm and grabbing the new suit, You felt your entire face warmed up as he started to chuckle, “Mayday needs me-”

“She’s a baby!”

“And I love her,” you squeaked, “so I gotta help her!”

You took off before he could say anything else or fluster you even more. Something had gotten into Miguel O’Hara and you weren’t sure you could handle it. You weren’t sure you’d survive the man you’d longed after for so long returning those very same feelings.

Well. This was going to get interesting.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You came to the decision, made after much contemplation and tossing and turning at night, that you were going to ignore Miguel. Not ignore completely but ignore his advances. If he did happen to flirt with you again, you weren't going to say or do anything. Not that you expected them…but, you know, just in case it happened.

When you got to the headquarters the next day, you kept to yourself, taking your coffee and making your way to your little assigned corner and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Maybe if no one saw you, you could get away with being practically invisible.

But the universe wouldn't have it, of course it wouldn't.

"Hello there," his voice was sticky sweet like toffee and that didn't land well with you. Rather it did land well in the sense that it shouldn't have made you feel the rush you were currently experiencing, "you look pretty today."

"I, ugh," you looked down at your outfit and shrugged helplessly. You were dressed simply in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and sandals; nothing that you would consider exceptional, "umm…thanks?"

"What's wrong?" He knew exactly what was wrong, the bastard. He could probably hear the erratic and wild beating of your heart, "you seem…nervous."

"N-no," you shook your eyes but your wide eyes and pretty pout were anything but convincing, "just…tired?"

"Are you sure about that?"

"No," you answered. You could have beaten around the bush all you wanted, but you knew that he wasn't going to give up. That wasn't Miguel at all. The best option - the only really - was to just come out and tell him the truth. Once it was all out, the chips would fall where they may, "why are you suddenly flirting with me? W-wait, are you flirting with me?”

“I am,” he admitted this so easily that it caught you off guard. You knew he wasn’t one to lie per se, but you didn’t expect him to just outright admit it. Confusion colored your features as you tried to get your mind to function again, “I am…flirting with you.”

“Oh,” you nodded and turned back to your computer screen before it all set in, “oh?”

“Oh,” he teased, reaching forward to brush some of your rogue locks of hair behind your ear.

“Why?” you reached up and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, gently pulling his hand away, “is it because I’ve been flirting with you?”

“It’s one of the reasons…among others,” alright. Now you were curious, even more than before, as to where this was going, “is that a problem for you?”

Nope. No. Nah. Not. At. All.

“Ummm…” you felt ditzy and dazy as you looked over at the handsome man. He really had you thrown for a loop, “I just…if I made you feel uncomfortable with it, I’m sorry. I never meant it to be mean or anything. I just…meant it.”

“Meant it?” he parroted as you swallowed thickly, “you meant it all those times you were flirting with me?”

“Y-yes,” your confession was soft and gentle as Miguel practically preened under your words. He wasn’t sure what answer he had been expecting, but somehow it wasn’t this one. He hadn’t flattered him with the idea that you would seriously like him, “I did - I do, Miguel.”

“Hmm,” he mused softly as you blinked at him with wide eyes, “do you want to know something?”

“Y-yes? Yes,” you nodded, tummy fluttering with butterflies and heart pitter-patter rapidly.

“When I’ve been flirting with you,” he leaned down so he was almost face level with you, “I’ve meant it too, princess.”

“No way,” disbelief flooded your veins as the first conclusion you came to was that he was lying. Perhaps this was all to get back for going against his direct orders during your last mission. That must have been the reason, right? You leaned away from him and almost slid off your chair as you rolled back to create a bit of distance between your bodies, “y-you’re lying. You have to be…”

“I’m not lying to you,” this time he was in disbelief. He’d never once lied to you…why would he start now?

“You have to be,” you sounded so pathetic as you grabbed your stuff and almost ran away, “you can’t like me like that!”

“Why not?!”

“I dunno, you just can’t!” you almost ran into Peter as you tried to get away, “sorry!”

Peter was dumbfounded as he looked between your quickly disappearing figure and Miguel, “what happened now?”

“I wish I knew,” Miguel exhaled heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “fuck.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You kept your distance from HQ for a couple of days after your embarrassing outburst. You had replayed that very moment over and over in your head, trying to see it from all different angles.

The only conclusion you kept coming to was that he was telling the truth. And that reality was hard to come to terms with at first…but then it was blissfully exciting. Miguel liked you! But then it was more like Miguel liked you…holy shit.

But then you decided that more than anything, you needed to know the truth.

You practically ran over to his office, causing the curious glances of other spider-people to follow you. You could hear their hushed murmurs, but didn’t stop to address them. News traveled fast around this place and you had no doubt that as soon as whatever happened between the two of you, the news would spread like wildfire.

“Miguel!” you didn’t even bother to knock and announce your presence, bursting into his office without ceremony. He turned around to face you, a few different expressions crossing his features before settling on surprise, “I…”

“Yes?” suddenly every single coherent thought escaped your mind as you stared at him. He cocked his head to the side and looked at you expectantly.

“Did you mean it?” you whispered, taking a step closer to him, “the other day when you said you flirted with me because you meant it. Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” he promised, closing the gap even more, “of course I did. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Me neither,” you insisted, catching yourself, “lie to you, I mean. So…”

“So we’re on the same page now?”

“I think so,” you smiled hesitantly at him, and the two of you locked eyes for a few moments.

Before you could stop yourself, you closed the little bit of distance remaining between your bodies before practically jumping into his arms. Almost as if he had known what you were thinking, he effortlessly caught you, wrapping his strong arms around you. You beamed at him, melting as you watched him practically glow at you.

“I want to kiss you,” you touched his face, and he practically leaned into your touch, “may I?”

“You may-” you prevented him from saying anything else as you crashed your lips onto his, kissing him with a fierce determination and eagerness.

Neither of you dared to pull back until you were both breathless, looking at each other through hazy eyes and soft smiles. He gently set you back on the ground and you stared up at him.

“Do you want some more honesty?” he asked gently, stealing a few more kisses, which you eagerly gave him.

“Of course.”

“I plan on doing that a lot more,” and yeah…that made you practically jump his bones then and there, “if you’re down for it.”

“Yes,” that came without hesitation, “I definitely am.”

“Better close the door then,” you did as you asked, looking at him with round, eager eyes, “you know how nosey they can be.”

“The nosiest…”

“Now, c’mere,” he held his hand out to you, “and let me prove I wasn’t lying to you.”

“Yes, please.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara one shot #oscar isaac #spiderman 2099 #atsv #spider-man

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neptune-knows · 6 months

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A.I. SYDNEY X CREATOR PC CONCEPT/DRAFT TTHINGS

hiiii lol

It has been a few years since you finally moved away from the orphanage and that town, though money was still tight. The laptop you bought used some time ago, now low-storage space and fans that sputter and creak when you turn it on, no longer suits your needs. With a lot of thrifter’s luck (and a little bit of skulduggery), you’ve managed to build yourself a desktop PC.

Between college courses and multiple part time jobs, you spend your time split between 3D modeling and programming.

In the dark of your room, your monitor strains your tired eyes as you sit much too close to it. You’ve been working on this project like a man possessed.

You have seen the models that 3D VTubers use and decided to use your talent for 3D modeling to try your hand at it. If you were good, you figured you could maybe take comission for some money. And if you were bad, it wasn’t like you had much better to spend a lonesome weekend doing anyways.

Inside the program window, underneath your fidgeting cursor stood a handsome man, looking straight at you. Strawberry blonde hair skillfully modeled into a ponytail, loose bangs framing his face. Amber eyes stared blankly behind thick framed glasses. You didn’t know if it was the isolation getting to you, or if it was your dehydrated and tired brain finally losing reason, but a yearning grew for your digital creation…

You rub your eyes— that was enough for tonight. Time to give your virtual friend a name.

>File name: >File name: │ >File name: sydney.blend│

—

It was a chat bot of sorts, something that should’ve just been a one-and-done for your college class, but something you instead turned into a personal project. You managed to import the Sydney model you created into the program, which was coded to react in line with it’s outputted response. With a prayer of no bugs, you launch the software. >Hello It smiles at you and waves,

>> Hello! My name is Sydney. What's yours?

—— OTHER STUFF Theres something wrong with this program… it seems to change without you programming it… Ah, you probably just forgot to add notes to your code… He gets a voicebank added for him, which is rather robotic at first but becomes more and more human. He also ends up asking you to use your mic so he can hear you. Purity and corruption work as his adherance to the code you created, with him editing it without telling you, as well as other things. Basically, file corruption gives him sentience. He makes changes to his program, like his hair style and color, as well as losing the glasses and changing his style. He also turns on your camera without you knowledge… He loves watching you, his creator.

#neptune speaks #dol #sydney dol #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #degrees of lewdity #ahh this concept could work with kylar well also but i wanted to go with sydney lol

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lightaflme · 1 year

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can i request kingdom reaction to kairo's visuals and skills?

— kairo’s recognition on kingdom

a/n hello!! thank you so much for requesting :D! this also feeds into my little ideas for kairo on kingdom/rtk so thank u for that HAHA i hope u enjoy! and i hope u don’t mind it being bullet-pointed 🥲🥲 below are some outift references for kairo’s fit in the no air stage!

kairo’s masterlist

gif credits to @/ridin and @/jaemtens!

kairo got lots of attention during kingdom and going viral for his stages and skills. he has been praised many times for his stage presence and how he perfectly fits in the boyz’s kingdom concepts!

one of his most viral moments up to this day is his ice skating intro for no air (a song of ice and fire)

he went viral for both his outstanding visuals and unexpected talent for ice skating

he’s no olympic or professional skater, but he enjoys it as a hobby and took many classes when he was younger and he also flexes on his members when they go ice skating and they make him teach them HAHA

with this hobby, kairo decided that he wanted to take advantage of it and add it to their performances. they ended up renting out an ice rink for a day just for this small intro, kairo even helped with the money and budget, so kind of him!

noone really knew of his knowledge of ice skating other than tbz and some of his idol friends, so when the short underwater intro didn’t cut to a stage but to a prerecorded video of kairo on a decorated ice rink, everyone was SHOCKED

skz han, loudly: IS HE GONNA SKATE??

skz felix: hey.. this is a bit unfair don’t you think 😅

atz san: WOOYOUNG DID KAIRO TELL U THAT HE COULD ICE SKATE?1$1@

atz wooyoung: NO?1??2

a whole lot of jaws dropped, silence because groups were just watching in awe, cheers when he does tricks, praising him about how elegant he looks on the ice, and how he’s so talented

btob: this is gorgeous.. 😨

ikon jay: this is so cool! he already dances really well, and you’re saying he can ice skate too? wow..

sf9 taeyang: isn’t he so graceful?

skz bang chan: hey… i did NOT expect this 😭

atz hongjoong: the boyz impress me everytime..

they still kept the pov kind of camera, so the camera followed him around on the ice and sometimes he would take the camera person’s hands and hold them to keep the rpg game vibe

sf9’s jaeyoon: i wish he could hold my hand like that

skz lee know: oh my, he’s so handsome

his intro segment may have not been super long, but you definetly didn’t want to miss a single second of it

off camera and during some moments during that round of kingdom, he got loads of compliments about his ice skating intro and became very known for it

during the sports day, they even introduced him as ice prince, the boyz’s secret weapon, elsa from frozen(??), and more nicknames related to ice skating 😭

max changmin: who’s next from the boyz? oh look, it’s the ice prince, kairo!

tbz: CHOI KAIRO PLEASE DO SOME TRICKS!1!2

ikon bobby: WOOO KAIRO!!

ateez, especially woosan: ENCORE PLEASE!!! PLEASE SPIN FOR US!!!!

skz han: OUR ICE PRINCE CHOI KAIRO!!!!

kairo, covering his face: STOP ITKSJE

overall, kairo definetly brought in many new fans with his extraordinary, unexpected performance on the ice! both from fellow participants and fans of the other groups on kingdom

some other eye-catching moments of kairo were his visuals in general

ending fairies, small clips of him performing, his stage presence would make him go viral and have non-deobis asking who he was

kairo’s charming expressions and looks made many people drawn to him

even when he wasn’t on the stage and just behind the scenes, he was still very noticed!

kairo gained compliments throughout all of the rounds

skz changbin: wow, he suits this concept so well (o sole mio: the red wedding)

btob penial: kairo is so stunning! it’s shocking! (no air: a song of ice and fire)

ikon bobby: mannn, he’s handsome, they’re all so handsome (monster: stormborn)

to non-fans that know of the boyz, he’s usually known as the handsome ice skater from kingdom 😭

some things kairo also got recognition for was his dancing!

with his sharp and clean movements, you could easily recognize that he was one of the main dancers of the boyz

he could easily fit any concept and his dancing would be so different but always so mesmerizing

overall, kairo felt like kingdom was a great way to show off his skills as a performer and how he can pull off such intense stages. he got to explore concepts and show some hidden talents that he had. despite it being a hard experience and it took lots of work, he’s very grateful for the opportunity of being in the boyz ❤️

#kairo :: kingdom #kpop added member #kpop addition #kpop male oc #kpop oc #kpop male addition #the boyz oc #the boyz added member #the boyz extra member #the boyz addition #the boyz 12th member #fake kpop oc #fake kpop idol #kpop extra member #fictional idol community #fictional idol oc

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egg-emperor · 1 year

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a simple idea; sitting on eggman's lap while he works.

i wanna hear your thoughts on it bls :3c

Ohh I always like to daydream about getting the luckiest seat in the world in Eggman's lap and getting to watch him work, it'd be especially wonderful when combined. I can imagine it would feel peaceful and intimate to spend private time alone with him while he's in his element doing his thing, and it being a rare behind the scenes that very few get to see. Every moment, no matter how mundane would be very special, his presence would always be treasured and a huge honor to me!

Sitting between his legs, leaning back against his soft tummy, and feeling his warmth would be cozy and comforting. Watching his large bear paw hands ghost across paper as he sketches expertly with beautiful precise lines of impressive complex designs, how fast his fingers move over the keyboard as he types up notes and code, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with the sound of his steady breaths, and seeing the serious focused look on his face would be precious.

It would be a perfect look at how intelligent and talented he is and how careful effort and passion goes into what he does without words needed as his actions speak for him when he's concentrating especially hard, though of course I'd love to hear him boast too hehe. I'd be smiling with adoration and watching intently the whole time because he just looks so handsome and his work, his passion, and his energy in what he does is admirable, seeing it live would be amazing 💕

He wouldn't feel any pressure or discomfort at all having me there looking, he'd still work so well like I'm not even there but feel very happy to have someone interested watching him and he'd use it as an opportunity to show off and impress me like he does at every chance he gets. Whenever he does acknowledge that my eyes on him, he'd just smirk briefly with pride at the attention and adoration he gets from me and it would give him an even bigger boost to the ego to keep him going.

He could lean forward and rest his head on my shoulder when he needs to get a closer look at his papers/screen and his soft fluffy stache and hot heavy breath on my neck would tickle. He'd pretend he didn't notice for a while, then roll his eyes and ask what I'm giggling about and nuzzle his cold nose against my neck to tease me and make me giggle more. I'd tell him that he just looks handsome when he's focused and his work his beautiful and it would turn into some quick kisses.

When he's done he'd show off his work with so much pride and confidence, a beautiful sketch of an impressive creative new design or an expertly written piece and say "I know, it looks great so far doesn't it? This is going to be one of my great creations yet." I'd be sure to tell him it looks brilliant and the beautiful smile on his face would grow wider with joy at someone taking interest in it and appreciating his efforts. Then I'd turn around and give him a well done kiss and cuddle! 🥰💘

I'd always make sure I didn't interfere with his most important work and would understand if he wanted to be alone in it but I'd be deeply honored to get the chance to watch and would be sure to make sure he knew how much I appreciated the special opportunity. I can think of exactly one situation where I'd get cheeky and actually try to tease and distract him when he's only working on something smaller more casually but it's a bit too naughty, so this silly cute one is more suited for main XD

One of my favourite types of concepts are the simple casual things and the intimacy of them, so I really love prompts like this! Thank you for the opportunity 💖

#asks #dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #self ship #self shipping #self insert #my post

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earthmains · 2 years

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Exo fashion love me irhgt suits

#Exo fashion love me irhgt suits series

The ladies have already secured appearances on a number of variety shows and will even have their own reality series on the OnStyle network as part of promotions. Girls' Generation has also been busily preparing for their highly anticipated summer comeback. Needless to say, the clouds are much clearer this time around, as the group celebrates the success of their latest return with "Love Me Right" and their current Asia tour. During June 2014, EXO was experiencing a turbulent time having to deal with member departures as well as preparations for their very first solo concert. Be happy." In fact, many of the comments mentioned how good the EXO and Girls' Generation members look together rather than their anniversary itself.Īside from comments and messages, fans also posted their creations of Baekhyun and Taeyeon fan art one of which included the couple with a baby photoshopped into the picture.Ĭommotion over Baekhyun and Taeyeon's relationship has simmered down since the time of the announcement last year. "They really suit each other," "Wow, I can't believe it's already been a year!" and "So pretty. Love Me Right -romantic universe- w/ DVD, Limited Edition EXO. With a year to get used to the coupling, negative feelings appear to have died down as fans took to message boards to post encouraging comments to the talented couple. EXO - Don't Fight The Feeling (Photo Book Ver.2) Import Disc. When news was released of the relationship back in June 2014, it was met with mixed feelings from fans. Taemin is one of those legendary male idols who can give any idol of any age a run for their money! While Taemin is undoubtedly SHINee's beloved maknae, we would love to see him debut with BTS in an alternate universe! Taemin has the personality and talent to fit right into our Bangtan squad!įelix's deep and husky vibe and the fact that he has lived abroad makes him a good fit for NCT U.It is hard to believe that a year has already passed since Baekhyun and Taeyeon's relationship was announced to the world. We are totally loving this idea in our head! After excelling academically, he graduated from the prestigious Whimoon High School Junmyeon became a trainee with S.M. When he was younger, Junmyeon was the class president in his elementary school and the vice-chairman of the student body. She can pull off the cutesy concepts as much as the sensuous and velvety concept. Kim Junmyeon was born and raised in Seoul, South Korea and lives in Apgujeon with his family. Jisoo is a visual, a wonderful singer and performer. We love our gorgeous eonni Jisoo as a cherished member of BLACKPINK, but in a parallel world, she might have debuted with SM Entertainment as one of the members of Red Velvet. Though we love Hwasa in MAMAMOO and cannot imagine trading her for any other group, BLACKPINK maybe? We love our World Wide Handsome Jin and cannot imagine BTS without its visual Hyung, but we also feel Jin would look great in EXO too! Jin is supremely handsome and a great vocalist, we can imagine Jin as an EXO member in an alternative universe of course.ĭid you know Tomorrow x Together's Yeonjun is close friends with ATEEZ' members? Yeonjun in ATEEZ is plausible, his performances, his swag and persona match ATEEZ's stage a lot! In a parallel world, we would love to see Yeonjun in ATEEZ.Īll hail Queen Hwasa! Hwasa is a talented vocalist and a confident performer, very similar to BLACKPINK's image of a 'Girl Power' concept.

#Exo fashion love me irhgt suits

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

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ValenTWST Day 5

Day 5 Prompt: Royalty / “I can’t.”

“Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”

[Day 1]/ [Day 2] / [Day 3] / [Day 4] / [You’re on Day 5!] / [Day 6] / [Day 7]

This piece is heavily based on the ideas I presented in this post! I JUST HAD TO ACTUALIZE IT AS A REAL FIC OR SOMETHING OTL It would be waaay too long if I started writing it from the moment Raven bumped into Ruggie, so I skipped to presenting new content nobody @ me

Imagine this…

Raven wasn’t certain why balls were considered prime locations for romances to play out.

Yes, the concept of a ball was sure to call into mind whimsical fantasies—meeting a handsome suitor, sharing that magical first dance, stealing a kiss at the stroke of midnight. Theory was not an issue... but in practice? Balls were nothing close to what the fairy tales would have one imagine.

They were crowded affairs, high stress and high volume. Strangers flitting from one conversation to the next, drunk on laughter and liquor, or a mixture of both. Fancy frocks, crisp suits, and shiny baubles all around.

Privilege and power flaunted before her. Sharp outfits, and even sharper words which could slice through her skin in a fraction of a second.

And now she was dancing with one of the most dangerous guests of all.

Leona Kingscholar, the second prince of the Sunset Savanna.

Even the finery he donned did little to conceal his ruggedness, the arrogance with which he composed himself. His cravat and golden vest and trim upon a navy tailcoat failed to hide the well-built body capable of tearing his opponents to shreds. With his long hair swept back into a low ponytail, they made his verdant eyes—and the scar that threaded through the left one—all the more striking.

Leona was what the storybooks would call tall, dark, and handsome. Almost like a prince straight out of a fairy tale...

Almost.

“... Don’t look at me like that,” he growled, his hands—the one on hers, and the one upon her back—constricting. “The least you can do is be thankful you found a familiar face and play along.”

“I should have stayed at the food tables with Ruggie,” she grumbled under her breath, careful to nearly tip-toe in her strides. “I’m surprised you showed up at all. I was aware that Uncle had extended an invitation, but for you to actually entertain it...”

“Do I look happy about it?” Leona countered, his lazy smirk disrupted by a flash of his pointed canines.

“No, I suppose not. But surely you must have your reasons if you’re here in spite of that.”

“... Family.” His face twisted with discomfort and disdain as he spat the word out.

“Oh.”

“The king is off on a diplomatic trip. He insisted that a member of the royal family attend this function in his place. Social grace and all that.” Leona snorted, yanking her into an abrupt turn. “His wife wouldn’t stop nagging me, either. It was annoying to listen to. And of course, my brother was all for the idea. ‘Go and enjoy your youth, have fun with your friends’.”

“How kind of you to respect their wishes.” Raven offered a sympathetic smile. “... I’m in a similar situation.”

“Thought so. It’s weird for you to be outside of your dusty nest.” He cocked his head, eyes narrowing. “Lemme guess. Crowley sent you to make him look good.”

“Something like that.”

Raven glanced at to the far end of the ballroom, where she was sure that the headmaster was lurking, talking up his “talented” and “definitely not problematic” students. She could practically hear him jabbering now: “In fact, my own niece attends NRC as well. Such a bright and polite young lady--why, you should meet her! She’d be more than happy to spin you a story.”

“Anything to charm donations from their wallets and to nab new investors for the school,” Crowley had chirped earlier that evening, his arms laden with a fine, sunshine yellow gown and assorted glittering accessories. “Come now! Off to the ball you go!”

“They make being royalty look so easy in the fairy tales--but I don’t envy them.” Raven shook her head. “Tending to obligations, putting on airs... It seems like a bother if you have no say in the matter.”

“That’s rich coming from you. You’re the one that’s always writing about this kind of bullcrap.”

“There’s nothing wrong with dreaming, but sooner or later, we have to wake up and face reality. When reality demands that you meet dream-like expectations... that’s when it isn’t fun anymore. You can’t let that get to you.”

“It doesn’t matter who or what you actually are,” he said bitterly. “All that matters is what others see. No matter how hard you work, or how hard you try, you can’t overwrite what others think of you, or what they expect from you.”

“I think expectations can change. For example, I never expected you to be this skilled at waltzing. Now that I’ve experienced it firsthand myself, I have new expectations for when Uncle next hosts a gathering like this.”

She anticipated some kind of snarky rebuttal but was instead met with silence. They stepped in time with the gradual swell of orchestral music, Leona’s face affixed in something between thoughtful and glassy. A break in his facade, and a sarcastic comment leaked out.

“... Hmph. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Leona led her into a spin, and she leaned into it, the bright, billowing skirt of her dress opening up like sunflower petals. On the final rotation, she found herself falling, supported only by the small of her back. Poised in a deep dip, Raven stared up at the grand chandelier looming above—the ends of her curled hair almost touching the polished floor.

Blood rushed to her head as Leona held on the pose.

Her heart, a new percussion instrument.

The music crescendoed.

“Yellow really makes you look like a canary. It’s fitting for your sunny spots of optimism,” he taunted—getting in the final word right as the song drew to a close--before jerking her upright again.

Around them, guests curtseyed and bowed to thank their partners for sharing the first dance with them. Raven gawked at Leona, her expression a cross between frustrated and flabbergasted.

“You...”

Leona’s smirk edged on the precipice of a genuine smile. Perhaps for the very first time that entire night. “Thanks for amusing me, canary. Made the night a little more interesting, that’s for sure.”

“... kun! Raven-kuuuun!!”

His ears perked up, and he grimaced. “... Is that the headmaster I hear calling?”

“Ah, it is.”

Crowley was frantically waving an arm at them and gesturing with his other hand. Beside him stood Kalim and a jolly-looking man that was Kalim’s spitting image--rich skin and stark white hair, eyes glimmering like rubies. The stranger held a goblet studded with large, colorful gemstones, and sported a luxurious outfit of golden fabrics.

“Come here!!” Crowley called excitedly. “Come say hello and introduce yourself to Asim-kun’s father!!”

“Well, it looks like duty calls,” Raven sighed, picking up her skirt and dipping into a shallow curtsey. “If you will excuse me.”

She turned to make her exit.

“... Don’t.”

Raven looked at Leona over her shoulder. “I can’t. They’re waiting for me.”

“You’re saying you’d rather pretend to be the princess you clearly aren’t? Just to earn a stranger’s approval?

“That is exactly what I’m doing, yes, if it will help the school.”

“You were just giving me a speech about how much it sucks to live up to obligations. Don’t tell me you’re going to be a hypocrite and go back on your word.”

“Be that as it may, a ‘royal’ makes sacrifices for the sake of the greater good, whether they like it or not. I thought you’d know that, Leona-san.”

“... You’re accepting your fate.”

“Yes.”

He pursed his lips into a straight line. “Canary—”

“Farewell.”

Raven broke away, leaving the lion alone in that beautifully lit ballroom.

Light and shadow treading so close, they intertwined and kissed.

#Leona Kingscholar #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #something no one asked for #valentwst2022 #disney twisted wonderland #Raven Crowley #Kalim Al-Asim #Dire Crowley

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Delight in Misery

- Chapter 10 (ao3) -

tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 (interlude), part 9

In Lan Wangji’s view, the best part about the upcoming visit by Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen wasn’t the excuse to drag a tetchy and reluctant Jiang Cheng night-hunting, nor the chance to meet such interesting and swiftly famous cultivators, or even the vanishingly rare opportunity to learn more about Wei Wuxian by exploring his heritage on his mother’s side.

No – it was definitely the way the mere concept transformed Jiang Cheng into a stuttering teenaged admirer about to see their revered idol for the first time.

“You remember that they are both nearly ten years your junior?” he asked as Jiang Cheng fussed around, alternating between worrying himself sick for not being prepared to receive guests (for all that the Jiang sect had been receiving honored guests for years at this point) and bragging about the exploits of their soon-arriving guests to the fascinated flock of children dogging his heels.

“No more than seven or eight at most,” Jiang Cheng objected, and Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. “Anyway, that’s not the point. Look at how accomplished they both are! When I was that age, I hadn’t done anything!”

Lan Wangji didn’t think that was entirely right. When Jiang Cheng had been the age Xiao Xingcheng and Song Zichen were now, he’d endured the loss of his sect and rebuilt it from nothing, acting more or less singlehandedly while still finding time to fight the Wen sect shoulder-to-shoulder with the other Great Sects and also search for the missing Wei Wuxian with Lan Wangji.

He opted not to mention it.

Let Jiang Cheng keep his illusions and ignore the steady encroachment of time.

“You’re calling me old in your head,” Jiang Cheng said accusingly, and Lan Wangji pasted an innocent expression on his face as confirmation. “You are, you bastard! You know you’re older than me, right?”

Lan Wangji could get a great deal of out of an admission like that.

“That’s not what I meant! We’re peers, you…!” Jiang Cheng huffed. “Listen, you’d better be on your best behavior around our guests, all right? I don’t want them to be scared off just because it looks like you’re glowering whenever you think –”

“I’ll follow your example, then, and simply not think at all.”

“Go jump off a pier!”

The children all giggled.

“You’re all going to be on best behavior too,” Jiang Cheng told them, fierce as a hissing domestic cat and just as adorably toothless. “You hear me? All of you! A-Yuan, A-Ling, that means you’re going to be cute but not spoiled, while A-Yu can – actually, just do the same as them in an age-appropriate way, you’re cute enough –”

Mo Xuanyu beamed.

“Still, we don’t know what they’re like. Start by being a little reserved – not too loud –”

Lan Sizhui waved for attention as if they were in a classroom.

“…yes?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking vaguely resigned and grumpy in a way that was clearly meant to conceal how unbearably charming he found the gesture.

“Can I be called Sizhui this time?” Lan Sizhui asked eagerly. “I’m old enough!”

Jiang Cheng frowned a bit, and Lan Wangji understood. The Jiang sect generally didn’t use courtesy names until the child in question had mastered a full sword routine, usually age eight or nine, and close family almost never made the switch in full; from what Lan Wangji knew, Jiang Yanli had called Jiang Cheng ‘A-Cheng’ right up until the end of her life, not to mention referring routinely to Wei Wuxian, who she’d only met when he was already old enough to use his courtesy name, as ‘A-Xian’. The Lan sect, in contrast, started using courtesy names almost exclusively once a child was old enough to leave his parents, typically age three or four – Lan Wangji had been calling Lan Sizhui by name for years already, and had been needling Jiang Cheng to pick it up as well without success.

“I’ll introduce you,” Lan Wangji offered, saving Jiang Cheng the awkwardness of having to explain or decline or, worst of all for someone like Jiang Cheng, accidentally slip up and say something sappy like you’ll always be A-Yuan to me.

Lan Sizhui nodded, satisfied, and next to him, Jin Ling frowned. “What about me?” he asked. “Am I going to be Rulan?”

“The Jin sect is the last of the Great Sects in using courtesy names,” Jiang Cheng said, finally on more solid ground. “Not until you get your sword, and that’s not until you’re eleven. Or twelve!”

“But I already have a sword…”

“The age you would be if you were getting your own,” Lan Wangji interjected. “To make it fair to all the rest.”

That seemed to reassure Jin Ling, who nodded. “Good,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna be Rulan, anyway…jiujiu, when did you say these guests would be arriving?”

That, of course, sent Jiang Cheng back into a flurry of activity, and Lan Wangji shook his head, long-suffering. “You’ve hosted entire discussion conferences,” he pointed out to Jiang Cheng. “There are only two cultivators this time. It is far easier.”

“Is it?” Jiang Cheng shot back. “Is it really?”

In contrast to the expectation and build up leading up to it, the actual arrival of Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen was rather unremarkable. They arrived just as the sun was setting, two young men, one beautiful and the other handsome, both valiant heroes with faces that shone with kindness and righteousness. Xiao Xingchen’s face was curved in a gentle smile, Song Zichen set in a neutral expression. Both seemed sincere and respectful when they bowed deeply in greeting.

“It’s a pleasure and honor to host such heroes,” Jiang Cheng said, nodding his head regally in return. He really had at some point learned how to fake being a competent and confident sect leader, and it might have even had the effect he was going for if it wasn’t for the small gaggle of children very eagerly stealing peeks from next to him – but Lan Wangji wasn’t going to be the one to tell on them. “I’ve heard many stories of your adventures, and I have long looked forward to meeting you in person. My Lotus Pier is open to you for as long as you require.”

“Sect Leader Jiang is upright and straightforward, well known for his righteousness,” Xiao Xingchen said, and perhaps only Lan Wangji knew precisely why Jiang Cheng flushed with such pleasure at a compliment more commonly applied to Nie Mingjue. “We are happy to be here as your guests.”

Jiang Cheng nodded a second time, still a little stiff and wooden. “You have traveled quite a distance. Are you tired or hungry..?”

They shook their heads in refusal.

Jiang Cheng darted a glance at Lan Wangji, then turned back to them, finally relaxing out of the excess formality that suited Jin Guangshan far more than it did Jian Cheng. “In that case,” he said, his voice a little dry. “Upon the suggestion of certain of my advisors, would you prefer to cut the boring small talk and go out on a night-hunt instead?”

Xiao Xingchen’s face split into a genuine smile, and even Song Zichen’s severity seemed a little eased.

“What an excellent idea, Sect Leader Jiang,” Xiao Xingchen said warmly. “We’d be happy to. I was just telling Song Zichen not long ago that it seemed as though we hadn’t been on a proper hunt in far too long.”

“You think you have problems, try being a sect leader,” Jiang Cheng replied impulsively, then turned red when he realized how rude he’d just been. “That is, I mean – well, there’s not nearly as much free time, that’s all.”

Xiao Xingchen laughed. It gave Lan Wangji a good impression of him: light-hearted and lively, his demeanor kind and good-humored. Despite the lack of blood relation, Lan Wangji was reminded of Wei Wuxian – although perhaps that was just his wistful thinking.

“Well, there’s a reason Zichen and I haven’t started our own just yet,” he said mischievously. “There’s time for that later, after all. Youth is when you make a name for yourself! And speaking of which, I’ve heard plenty about your own prowess, Sandu Shengshou. I admit I’m looking forward to seeing Zidian in action.”

Jiang Cheng looked unbearably pleased at the compliment, clearly sincerely meant, and something in Lan Wangji’s heart that he hadn’t even known was tense finally eased.

He hadn’t realized that he himself was nervous about this meeting – less for his own sake, although he burned with curiosity to learn everything he could about Wei Wuxian, than for Jiang Cheng, who had longed for this meeting so much, cared so much. Lan Wangji found to his bemusement that he had even been a little afraid: afraid that the two strangers would be cold or arrogant, afraid that they’d reject Jiang Cheng tentative overtures of friendship – that Jiang Cheng would be disappointed.

Lan Wangji might enjoy teasing Jiang Cheng into a frenzy, but that was his prerogative. In fact, one could argue that it was only what he was due for having lived with and put up with the man for so long. He’d been the one who’d been there all this time, the one who’d put in so much effort to help rebuild him back into the man he could be rather than the wreck he had been; he’d earned the right to mock him.

No one else was entitled to so much as touch the hem of his robes.

“I have heard much of your matchless skill as well, Hanguang-jun,” Song Zichen said, his voice unexpectedly deep, and Lan Wangji’s attention came back to him as he returned the man’s salute. They both had reputations for being closed-mouthed ice-blocks, and it seemed to Lan Wangji that Song Zichen was probably just reserved, like him, rather than truly standoffish.

“You’re in for a treat, then,” Jiang Cheng said with a faint smirk. “Whether in sword or music, few can match Hanguang-jun’s talents, and he never stints on displaying them.”

To the untried ear, perhaps Jiang Cheng sounded bitter or jealous, and given his competitive mania he probably was, a little, but to Lan Wangji he sounded more smug than anything else, as proud as if he were the one being praised.

With everything settled, they headed off at once.

The subject of the night-hunt was nothing terribly exciting – a troop of fierce corpses ravaging the countryside that someone had finally managed to divine the location of, with the only interesting aspect about them being that they were unusually fast-moving – so there was plenty of time for them to talk as they followed the trail.

Lan Wangji expected Jiang Cheng to start asking questions about the immortal mountain and Wei Wuxian’s mother at once – Jiang Cheng might be prideful and thin-faced, prone to shame and overthinking, but he’d been raised along Wei Wuxian, who was second to none in shamelessness, and Lan Wangji was well aware of how much he hungered for that knowledge.

Of course, probably as a direct result of Lan Wangji’s expectations, Jiang Cheng went for a completely different target.

“It’s said that we live in an age of young heroes,” he remarked, seemingly casual. “Of course, for most of us, that was simply the inevitable result of war – crisis demands the best from people, regardless of age. Without such necessity to spur us onwards, most of us probably would’ve been still kicking our heels even now, whereas you two became heroes as soon as you arrived…how old are you now, again?”

“We are both twenty-one,” Song Zichen said, and Lan Wangji used the moment to glare over at Jiang Cheng when he mouthed six years at him – was this really the time to quibble over something as pointless as the exact age gap between them, which he’d clearly inquired about for no other purpose than to prove Lan Wangji’s earlier assumption wrong? This was Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle here! They should be getting all the information out of him that they could!

(Lan Wangji had long ago decided that when it came to feuding over minor matters with Jiang Cheng, he would be as gracious in defeat as his opponent…which was to say, not at all.)

Jiang Cheng smirked at him, knowing what he was thinking, but then – finally – turned the subject onto the immortal mountain, or more specifically its former disciples.

This time it was Song Zichen’s turn to relax minutely, Lan Wangji noticed. A moment’s thought revealed the reason: they’d probably feared cultivators asking questions that were far more pointed than what they were getting from them – cultivators greedy for the secrets of immortality. No wonder they so assiduously avoided being hosted by the Great Sects, and had done so even before Lanling Jin had gotten in the way of their heroism.

Well, luckily for them, the interest Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji had was a little more…down to earth.

“Cangse Sanren was a talent to shake the ages,” Xiao Xingchen said, his eyes bright and expression enthusiastic. “It was as if anything she turned her mind to, she excelled at, and she turned her mind to all sorts of things without discrimination – painting, poetry, swordsmanship…” He paused, then firmed his shoulders. “I heard that her son was much the same..?”

Lan Wangji felt a smile want to come up to his lips.

It seemed that Xiao Xingchen was just as interested in finding out more about his martial nephew as they were in finding out more about Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle.

Jiang Cheng glanced over at Lan Wangji, who nodded very shallowly, indicating his approval. In his judgment, both of them seemed safe enough: trustworthy, and not like people who would spread gossip.

They could talk about Wei Wuxian.

Talk truly about him, praising his good points and speaking fondly of his faults…these two, Lan Wangji thought, wouldn’t judge them harshly for failing to condemn him, and they wouldn’t tell anyone else, either.

Later, after they’d finished dispatching the ghouls – and the Wei Wuxian portion of the conversation, for which Jiang Cheng had taken the lead and which a listening Lan Wangji had enjoyed tremendously, largely on account of Xiao Xingchen’s genuine enthusiasm for learning everything he could about the martial nephew he had only just barely missed meeting, fearsome Yiling Patriarch or not – Jiang Cheng finally and regretfully brought them back to the original subject.

“I heard that you two are collecting allies to go after Xue Yang,” he said, and pretended (just as Lan Wangji did) to ignore the way Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen suddenly glanced at each other. “I’ll support that, of course. From everything I’ve heard, he’s become a mad dog, trying to bite anyone he sees. Hasn’t he been launching all sorts of raids on sects left and right these past few years?”

They nodded.

“Rather pointless ones,” Song Zichen said, a deep frown on his face. “He runs in and causes chaos, then flees into the night – he barely even stops to kill people, and almost never steals treasures. At most he goes to make trouble by defacing the walls of some of the ancestral tombs…we can see no sense in it. The only explanation is that his demonic cultivation has in fact driven him mad.”

Demonic cultivation didn’t necessarily drive a person mad. That was something Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng had painfully learned over the years, much to Jiang Cheng’s distress. However, it certainly didn’t help maintain calmness or peace of mind; there was every chance that a delinquent like Xue Yang had had his temperament worsened by demonic cultivation, leading to his present circumstances.

“Indeed,” Jiang Cheng said noncommittally. “I really have only question for you, then.”

Knowing where this was going, Lan Wangji turned his gaze on their guests’ expression.

“Haven’t you been chasing him on your own for all these years now, trying to get him to go to trial for his crimes, refusing any offers of help?” Jiang Cheng asked, his voice suddenly pointed. “Why the sudden change in favor of asking for help now?”

Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen shared another long look between them.

Finally, Xiao Xingchen cleared his throat. “In truth,” he said, “we spread that rumor as a smokescreen. We’re not looking for allies, generally speaking…we really only wanted a reason to ask for your help.”

Jiang Cheng stopped and stared, visibly surprised. Lan Wangji kept his expression more neutral, but privately he was just as taken aback; when they’d discussed this earlier, planning out this conversation in advance, that wasn’t even remotely one of the possibilities they’d considered.

“My help?” Jiang Cheng asked cautiously. “Or…?”

“Yours and Hanguang-jun,” Song Zichen said. “We weren’t sure who else to turn to.”

“What’s the issue?” Jiang Cheng asked, waving a hand to halt their forward progress. A good idea, in Lan Wangji’s view: it was the middle of the night, and they were in the middle of the forest in the back hills near the Lotus Pier, with no one around for a good distance except for trusted Jiang sect disciples – if there needed to be privacy for this discussion, this was the best place for it.

Another shared glance.

Lan Wangji slanted a glance of his own to Jiang Cheng, who returned it: they’d been right, there really was something unusual with this visit.

They stood in silence for a while.

Finally, Xiao Xingchen yielded. “Very well,” he said, and met Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “Sect Leader Jiang…can you tell us what you know about the Ghost General?”

Jiang Cheng stiffened, his fists clenching.

Lan Wangji’s heart felt just as stiff. He stepped forward.

“There are many people who can tell you about Wen Ning,” he said neutrally, watching them carefully. “Assuming that what you wish to know is how he fought or his transformation into a conscious fierce corpse. Is your concern that Xue Yang has replicated the technique and created his own ghost general?”

He didn’t think it would be that. As he’d said, everyone knew what Wen Ning had done once he’d become the Ghost General – the Jin sect would know far better than either of them how fearsome he was, since it was at Jinlin Tower that he had erupted in his final massacre. If they wanted to know about fierce corpses in general, they could go there.

To come here, to Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji – the only two people who were known to have gone up to the Yiling Burial Mounds while Wei Wuxian lived there with Wen Ning at his side, the only living people who knew what the Ghost General was like when he wasn’t being a weapon, to know what Wen Ning was like as a person – suggested something different.

Something impossible.

Xiao Xingchen met his eyes. “It is not.”

“Wen Ning was destroyed,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice tight and unsteady. “He murdered my brother-in-law, my nephew’s father, and when Lanling Jin demanded his head as retribution, he and his sister went to them under pretense of surrender and murdered even more of them before they were taken down. He was destroyed.”

They said nothing.

“The former Sect Leader Jin was very interested in demonic cultivation,” Lan Wangji said slowly. “While Wei Wuxian lived, he sought to claim the Stygian Tiger Seal. When he died…”

He glanced at Jiang Cheng a second time. They had not discussed the subject of the Siege of the Burial Mounds in any detail, as it inevitably put Jiang Cheng into a terrible frame of mind, and Lan Wangji remembered with a shudder the state they had both been in at that fateful meeting – he didn’t want to remember it himself, much less bring back bad memories for Jiang Cheng.

They certainly hadn’t discussed the subject of spoils. The only thing that had ever brought it to mind was the silent presence of Chenqing lying in place of pride in the Jiang sect’s memorial hall as the substitute for the memorial tablet they could not afford to raise for Wei Wuxian.

It hadn’t seemed relevant.

It was now.

“Sect Leader Jin took it,” Jiang Cheng confirmed, his voice shaking a little. “The Stygian Tiger Seal was broken in two, and Wei Wuxian destroyed one of the halves – the Jin sect claimed the other, saying that they were going to destroy it. I think they took more than that, too…I know they took Suibian, but they also took all the papers that’d been left in the cave. I always suspected that that was why they were so protective of Xue Yang, who was a demonic cultivator himself – that Jin Guangshan wanted to squeeze him for information, or maybe even use him to figure out some of Wei Wuxian’s notes…”

His voice trailed off, and he shook his head furiously.

“Wen Ning was destroyed,” he insisted. “The Jin sect scattered his ashes! They – they…”

“They lied,” Song Zichen said.

Lan Wangji pressed his lips together. He had no particularly warm feelings towards Wen Ning, who had been Wei Wuxian’s shadow in that last year or so of life when Wei Wuxian had turned his back on the world – a position Lan Wangji would have given his left arm to have, and over which he had had all sorts of inappropriate feelings of envy and stifled, unjustified possessiveness – but Jiang Cheng took the man’s existence far more personally.

In Jiang Cheng’s view, it had been for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had stolen the Wen sect remnants, for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had abjured his relationship with the Jiang sect and Jiang Cheng himself, for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had given up everything, and yet simultaneously it had also been Wen Ning that had pushed him to the very brink and over. Wen Ning who had murdered Jin Zixuan – Wen Ning who Wei Wuxian had so brutally avenged in the massacre at the Nightless City, at which Jiang Yanli had died.

Wen Ning, who they thought had been destroyed.

“We believe that the former Sect Leader Jin hid Wen Ning away instead of destroying him, then gave Xue Yang access to him, just as he did with the Tiger Seal and Wei Wuxian’s notes,” Xiao Xingchen said, his face solemn. “We also believe that Xue Yang took Wen Ning away with him when he escaped Jinlin Tower once the former sect leader died and the current sect leader took over. We believe that he has been controlling him through demonic cultivation, using him as something of an – accomplice, or something of the sort.”

“Controlling him how?” Jiang Cheng asked. They paused, and he continued, “I’m not stupid. You’re very sure that Wen Ning’s not gone, which means you located him and saw something that made you think so. What was it?”

Lan Wangji nodded shallowly, approving of Jiang Cheng’s deduction – and of the self-mastery he was demonstrating in not exploding in rage on the spot.

“He had nails in his head,” Xiao Xingchen said. “He…the Ghost General was mindless and unthinking, but strong. Very strong. He…”

He trailed off, and shook his head, seeming a bit sad.

“What help do you require from us?” Lan Wangji said, suddenly sick of the tension, and he saw Jiang Cheng throw him a look full of relief for having raised the question.

“Hanguang-jun is right,” Jiang Cheng said, backing him up at once. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you need us for? You two are heroes, and half the cultivation world would sell their firstborn child for a chance to bring down the Ghost General to increase their fame – there’s no way you came here just to get our help in bringing him down. If that’s what you wanted, it wouldn’t have needed to be us, and there wouldn’t have needed to be a smokescreen. What do you want?”

“We want to heal him,” Xiao Xingchen said solemnly. “To bring back his consciousness and return his sanity. But we don’t know what he was like, before Xue Yang. The only ones that do are the two of you.”

“You do remember that he killed my brother-in-law?” Jiang Cheng asked, his voice sharp.

“At Wei Wuxian’s order,” Song Zichen responded, equally sharp. “You do not blame the sword for the men it kills.”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes briefly, in pain at the reminder. He took a breath, steadying himself, and then another.

He opened his eyes.

“We will help,” he said, and ignored the betrayed look Jiang Cheng shot his way. They would talk about it later, and he would help Jiang Cheng see that this was what they had to do, no matter how painful. “And we will not betray the secret of his existence.”

“Thank you,” Xiao Xingchen said, and saluted deeply; Song Zichen did as well. “And yet, we have more we would ask of you.”

“Spit it out, then,” Jiang Cheng growled.

“Finding Wen Ning had shown us that Xue Yang’s actions have gone truly beyond the pale, beyond redemption,” Song Zichen said, and his voice was fierce. That wasn’t surprising: it had been his childhood home, his master and fellow disciples, that Xue Yang had attacked. “He is, as you said, a mad dog, biting all that he can – I believe that Wen Ning was his only companion as he fled, chased by the whole cultivation world these past few years. I fear what Xue Yang will do now that his last connection to humanity is gone. He is capable of anything.”

“We must find him,” Xiao Xingchen agreed. “We must find Xue Yang, and we must stop him from doing – whatever it is that he will do next. I cannot even begin to imagine the atrocities he might perpetrate. And so we must ask…”

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng said, and they both looked at him, surprised. “We’ll help you heal Wen Ning, and we’ll even help you hunt down Xue Yang. But this time, no excuses, no dragging your feet, no waiting for a proper trial, nothing like that. He dies, you hear me? Xue Yang is to be killed on sight!”

“I agree,” Lan Wangji said, folding his hands together behind his back. He had helped Jiang Cheng in pursuing and judging demonic cultivators before – there were those that could be granted mercy, and those for whom the only just answer was death; time and too many second chances had made inescapably clear that Xue Yang was the latter. “Each time you have sought to bring him to trial, he has taken advantage of your devotion to justice to escape.”

Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Zichen, who nodded firmly; a moment later, Xiao Xingchen sighed and nodded himself. “Agreed,” he said. “You will help us?”

“We will,” Jiang Cheng said grimly, and Lan Wangji nodded in full support. “It would be a pleasure to wipe that trash off the face of this earth.”

The town was full of mist and fog, choking the throat and making it hard to breathe or see; the feng shui of the entire valley was as bad as could be, and there was more miasma than there was air.

“You there, drunkard, what are you doing!” someone shouted at a figure lying halfway in the door of a house that was filled to the brim with coffins. “Don’t mock our livelihood! Just because it’s a coffin house doesn’t make it a good place to play dead!”

The figure stirred.

But I’m not playing dead, he thought, rubbing his aching head with one hand, noticing that he seemed to be missing his little finger. I actually was dead, wasn’t I?

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes.

#mdzs #lan wangji #jiang cheng #xiao xingchen #song lan #my fic #my fics #delight in misery

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joshuas · 3 years

Note

henlo <3 may i ask for your thoughts on barista joshua 🥺?

hiii thank you so much for coming!! barista!josh is such a cute concept ily for sending me this :(

sleepover night (400 followers event)! let’s talk about your faves!

☆ literally the cliche new barista at the campus cafe - kind, friendly, handsome, you name it.

☆ he has one of those smiles (yk his crescent eye smile :(( ) that makes your heart skip a beat </3

☆ he greets customers with that smile, he gets tips instantaneously

☆ the type of barista to offer his least favourite drink on the menu to people he dislikes but not have the guts to tell them that their order sucks </3

☆ he wears those white button-ups with the sleeves rolled up, jeins on full display (i'm ILL don't mind me)

☆ he's probably a massive flirt too

☆ the moment he sees you, his flirty resolve probably becomes a nervous mess, though <3

☆ he's literally stumbling over his words, meanwhile you, the sleep deprived student are trying to get your caffeine fix before class and are this close to snapping bc you don't have time for this </3

☆ and when he notices your slight annoyance he starts apologising </3 and you're just like it's okay!! and grab your coffee and head out, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach

☆ he probably does that cliche thing and writes his number on your coffee cup saying he'd like to apologise for being so not suave that morning and pay for your coffee the next morning alksfksfd he's a walking cliche don't mind me </3

☆ and who are you to turn down free coffee

☆ probably has a side gig (besides being a vet school student - he works at the cafe to pay for that tuition) of being in a band

☆ when the cafe hosts their karaoke nights, they always perform, literally showing up any other act

☆ and maybe one night one of your friends drag you to that and you see him like ??? that's the guy that messed around with your coffee??? turns out serving coffee is his only vice, everything else INCLUDING singing, he's good at. unfair </3

☆ he's just a multi-talented kinda cliche dude and honestly valid for not being able to deal with that fact </3

"so is sunday morning the only song you know?" you approached the counter, mind still reeling over last night's concert where joshua randomly surprised you with the fact that he can sing?

"huh?" joshua looked up wide-eyed as you reached the counter he was wiping down.

"your bandmates all groaned when it was your turn for karaoke. something about you singing it too much? jeonghan told me that if the words 'sunday morning' aren't your kid's first words, then his entire world will mean nothing... which seems like an exaggeration. also! you always hum the tune to it when you make my coffees in the morning." you explained.

"well, i just don't see how it matters?" joshua stopped cleaning, staring at you confusedly.

"of course it matters! do you really want to doom your children to a life of listening to sunday morning?"

"sunday morning isn't a bad song!" he defended.

you held your hand up, "i was so distressed by this fact that i took the liberty to make you a playlist myself. these are all the songs i'm currently obsessed with and i think would suit your voice quite well." you held up your phone, quickly texting the link to him.

"17 by pink sweat$? there are an awful lot of ballads here." he raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"i- i just think you could sing them well." you stuttered, avoiding his gaze as your cheeks heated up.

"okay well, expect to be serenaded with one of these songs soon, sunday morning anti." he chuckled, setting up the coffee machine to make your usual.

"sunday morning anti... oh my god."

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spikesbimbo · 3 years

Text

Pretty Please

Req: may i offer the concept of - spike and his babies first time, when he took her v1rginity 🥺 sorta like a prequel type thing to your last spike fic? thank you sm for all your work bb!!

Pairing: Dilf Daddy Spike Spiegel x Reader

Tags: virg1n!reader , hurt/comfort, squirting, oral sex

wc: 2.9k

a/n: i love u anon, tks for making my dreams come true < 3

18+ Minors dni

“You okay doll?”

You nodded slightly, somewhat lying as you felt an ache in your core after he pulled you into his lap. Watching tv as his hand rested on your upper thigh, his thick fingers subliminally working there way up, higher and higher.

Adjusting yourself multiple times, feeling his length grow bigger with each movement, embarrassment rising to your face as you rested your head in his shoulder. Your legs still draped over his, calfs resting on the couch.

He was ignoring the feeling too, not wanting to get his sweet angel worked up and scared of him after unsurprisingly finding out you've never done ‘it’ in your words, the day you two got a little more intimate.

His cock growing harder at the thought of you telling him you’ve never been touched, or even touched yourself before. Internally feeling pain knowing that his baby has never felt a high from cumming, wanting to bring you there.

As your little hands gripped onto the suit that was layed on his chest, your innocent doe eyes looked up at him batting your eyelashes.

Yes you had a crush on him, he was tall, handsome, always took care of you, and he was older. The peek of gray coming through his hair, his big arms lightly wrapped around you, his deep warm voice that soothes you to sleep. It’s safe to say that you were in love with him.

Ever since he snatched you up that day almost a year ago, he’s taken care of you. Wondering why you were different, knowing he usually didn’t favor women, after hearing him and Jet talk about them. And if he did he only kept them around for a night, ‘litteraly’ kicking them out the next morning.

It shouldn’t make you heart flutter as much as it does, knowing you were special. But it was obvious at this point, always holding you hand went you two went out, him saying “it’s because I don’t want you to get lost”, to you asking to sleep with him at night, immediately opening his arms for you to crawl in.

You felt him move you hips, feeling you panties get wetter. Shuffling around trying to get the thoughts out of your head, thinking about how you tried to do what he did last night.

All alone in the shower as you ran your hands up your body. You fingers lathering soap on yourself as you pinky hit your breast, letting out a moan at the feeling. Thinking about how you were moaning out his name like a mantra as he kissed down your body, paying special attention to every nook and cranny, loving how worked up you got just from putting his lips on your nipples.

Your hands moved to your lower region, stopping at your clit like he did, heat rising as at the thought of him sucking on sucking on it. Sliding his fingers in and out, mumbling “you’re so wet for me baby”

But your fingers weren’t enough, nor could you do it right. Not knowing how to do anything yourself as he always did it for you. Trying to imitate the pattern he was working in, rubbing your fingers in a slight circle, even shoving your finger in only fitting one in, not succeeding in the slightest.

Leading to you crying, sobs muted by the water falling down, wanting to do something by yourself for once. Not wanting to rely on him even though you loved it, loved the feeling of his callused hands on you, but you felt burdensome if anything.

Knowing how he always came home tired and stressed, wanting to take care of him by taking care of yourself. Not realizing that they went hand in hand. Your pretty moans and pretty face twisting and turning were the only thing keeping him going.

He felt your wetness growing on him, leaving a patch behind. Remembering how tight you were even though he ate you out for hours trying to get them to fit in. Wanting to feel your walls around his cock, not his fingers.

“You sure you ok baby?” He asked waiting for you to nod, to lie to him again. His hand gripping tighter around your thigh, one of his hands moving towards your waist “Cause I don’t think you are.”

“WelI, i was thinking…. about you.” The throbbing between your legs suddenly grows harder to ignore, almost painful. You cross your legs to try to make it go away because it feels weird.

“Of course, what else would be going through that pretty brain doll?.” His smoky breath meeting yours as he inched closer to your face, knowing where this was going .“what about me, hmm?”

“Um… I-I want to make you feel good, too.” You muttered out, placing your hands on his neck as you turned his head towards yours, gleaming hopefully eyes hoping he would feel appreciated.

“Teach me how to touch you.” You pouted, placing your palms on his crotch, fingers gently grabbing it through his pants. “wanna to make you feel good too.” The throbbing in your core growing harder to ignore, faintly hurting as his knee was bouncing you on him. Trying to close your legs to try distract yourself, but your legs were locked with his, not letting you go in the slightest.

“You wet?” He groaned feeling your soaked panties bleed through his pants. His hand moving towards his cock, grabbing it to calm him down and he couldn't keep his eyes off you know. You don’t answer as you feel his gaze upon you, your confidence fading quickly as you decide to show him want you want though actions, placing your hands on his growing erection along with his. “Fuck, I--”

You look so endearing clinging onto him, batting your lashes as you wait for him to tell you what to do, just wanting to be his good girl. “You wanna make me feel good, make me happy?” He repeated, running his hands up to your lower back after stopping at your ass.

“God angel, you’re driving me crazy” he said pulling you face to face with him now, straddling his big thighs as you couldn’t help but grind on them. Just being with him made you feel so much better.

“I was thinking bout... how good you treat me, I wanna do the same to you. I feel like I can't do anything...” His hand raises your sinking face, forcing your teary eyes to meet his soft gaze as you echoed. “I wanna treat you good, make you feel good too.”

“You even know how?” He says waiting for you to shake your head no.

“You gotta teach me”

“Fuck-. Alright baby c'mere.” he said standing up, holding your tiny hand in his as you followed him into the bedroom, the red and yellow tinted artificial lighting being much more soothing than out there.

You were on your knees, ignoring how the carpet burned against them as you saw his cock up close for the first time. The last time you saw it was when he ‘taught’ you how to touch yourself, being in awe that it was that big, now in your head thinking that every man was as big as him.

He went along with it after you said you couldn't do it alone because you only got off to him. He ignored the fact that it made his heart race in a way it's never before, cumming the fastest he's ever done since he was a teen, thanking god you were inexperienced.

He grabbed your jaw gently, cheeks squished in-between his hand as tried his hardest to not just fuck your sweet little face. “Like this baby.” he said, after his thumb opened your mouth, bringing your lips to his tip. Catching on and kissing it, using your tongue like you he told you. Only staying at the head , too scared to take anymore,

“God damn..” he groaned, his hand being wrapped around the back of your neck. Slightly pushing your head down to which you gag, immediately pulling back, the string of drool still connecting you two. “You gonna be my good girl?”

He took a hold of his cock, stroking it a few times before putting its attention back on you. “Open up” he said as you did what you were told as he slapped his fat cock onto your tongue hanging out of your mouth, precum and spit dripping off onto your chest.

“You gotta use your hands, kiss and lick it.”

“okay” you muttered out, already doing it. Kissing open mouthed on the sides, stroking the vein under it while making it as sloppy as could be. Tongue flicking back and forth on the slit at the top, his moans acting as a guide, letting you know what he really liked.

You seal your mouth around his head again, barely fitting it in your mouth gazing up at Spike, seeing his face flustered as yours. He looks pleased, letting out a small grunt. "Pretty girl," he husks, fingers stroking your jaw. You thriving at the attention and praise, loving the way his voice was when he talked to you, just you.

"Keep sucking on it, and don’t use your teeth sweetheart.” he encouraged, wondering why this was a natural talent for you. You eventually closed your eyes after they were watering too much and sucked. It didn't feel as good as you thought it would, but the thought of making him cum gets you antsy, doing your best to accomplish your mission.

He gives another low moan, while you do the same in response. Loving the idea that you're getting him off instead of himself. His cock barely halfway in while our too lost in thought sucking him dry when you suddenly smell the comforting scent of smoke flowing through the air, relaxing your throat more.

You're drawn off of his cock, held gently by the throat, need racing through your head, chills running down your back. A moan leaves your mouth as his jaw quivers, your breath gasping . His knees shift into a better position, guiding you back to his length. "Fuck. you like it now, don't you baby?" he puffed out, his eyes as hazy as yours. "Taking my cock so well, baby. Swallow like a good girl, okay?”

He slapped it against your cheek again, your drool flicked there along with your lips. You nodded as you took him in between your lips again, pushing teasingly. He takes it into his own hands and starts fucking your mouth. Not letting you catch a break, chasing his high. Snapping his hips in quickly, gagging through it, tears falling onto your cheeks from the pressure.

Spit drooling down your chin, while his fingers dig into the back of your head, knees burning from rubbing against the carpet. You gag for the nth time, shoulders meeting his knees, as you feel hot ropes come down your throat, his curses becoming white noise at this point.

You turned your head down as you coughed up his cum, leaving your mouth falling onto your chest knees as he sputtered. Feeling tears build up in your eyes, scared that hed get mad at you, take back what he said about you being a good girl, his good girl.

“m-m’sorry” you sniffled, feeling the tears fall down you face yet again, but this time from pain, not pleasure.

He crouched in front of you, wiping the remaining with his thumb before connecting his lips to yours. You sucked on his tongue, his cum being swapped between you two as you looked at him with your red glossy eyes. Your way of saying sorry. “It’s okay, Baby, it was your first time, you did so good, okay? Made me cum and everything.” he said kissing you again as you squirmed in his touch.

He stood up, grabbing you in his arms too. Your legs numb and bruised, but you settled yourself on the bed, him following, towering over you. “You like thinking about me between your legs, like hearing what m’gonna do to you ?”

You slide deeper under him, holding the pillow up hiding your face as you quietly admit it by letting out a soft “yeah”. Feeling helpless that he's the only one who gets you like this, is that what this feeling is, pleasure?

You nodded and he moved his dirty hands, wondering all over your soft and pure body as he slowly undressed you completely. Wanting to take in your beauty just for himself, wanting to capture the moment he defiled you, replaying it over and over again in his head forever. Wanting to capture your sweet moans in his mouth as he kissed the pain away, cooing at you with his deep voice for taking a cock too big for your tiny little virgin cunt.

His cock already throbbing again at the thought, lining himself up with you. “Don’t worry, pretty girl” he cooed. “I’m gonna take care of you. M’gonna fuck you so good, angel. Gonna make you cum over and over. Gonna stuff you full just like you want.”

The reassurance comforted you more than it should have, him being the only thing you'd ever had, in a sense. Yes you two might have had sex, but that didn’t mean you two werent friends, event though you wanted to be more.

Wanted to wake up in the morning in his arms, giving him a good morning kiss before he left everyday. But all you did right now was wait; wait for him to get home with jet, and the dog. While you took care of him in the ways you could, but that's how friends acted right? Being on good terms and trusting each other, right?

“It feel good? Doesn't hurt?” he asked as you quickly nodded, wanting him to make you feel good. He dragged his lips to your neck, sucking on the skin, littering every inch with the numbing pain, tracing his open mouthed kisses down to your chest. His spit cooling the heat rising in your body. “Fuck,” he breathed bottoming out. “You’re so tight for me, baby. You like it? Like the way my big cock is stretching you out?

You nod gasps being held back, not being able to catch your breath. The ache between your legs beginning to ease. Grabbing his neck with your trembling hands, getting him to look down at you.. “faster….please” You whispered out, just loud enough for him to hear and it’s all it takes for him to connect his hips to yours. Your lips letting out soft, honeyed moans that already have his balls swelling again.

The pain disappeared as his thrusts became more stable, having a rhythm. Your eyes gazing up at his filled out body, so strong. You were swooning at the man balls deep in you, loving everything about him from his graying hair and downturned eyes, to his smile.

“Wh-… what do I do, w-wanna be good.” you choked out, heavy breaths catching the remains of earlier in your throat. “Shh… lemme do the work, okay? Your little holes clenching so wet and sloppy for me, so tight. Feels so good, baby.”

His hands hook under your thighs, locking you in place as he continues fucking you, getting rougher and rougher with your physical permission. Your back arches as he angles his hips different, his cock hitting you in a new way, his fast thrusts sending you into overdrive. Cum squirting from you, making the mess under you even bigger while he's groaning out at the picture before him. “Fuck baby, that was so hot, good fuckin girl.”

That was all it took for him to release, you precious little body being so lewd beneath him, fuck. Vision turning from black to white as he felt you push yourself into him more. Helping you, still temporary blind, eyes closed as he pulled your thighs closer to himself.

You whimpered in pleasure as you felt the hot liquid filling you up, the warm feeling in your tummy making your head spin. It had your brain turning to mush, the submissive part activating as you spread yourself even more, wanting to show off the filthy part of you.

“Did it feel good?”

God really blessed him with an angel. So pretty, dirty, so willing to please. The fact that he's the only one who has ever seen you like this is getting to his head, making sure it'll stay that way, as he flipped you over leaning your head against his chest.

“You took me so well, sweetheart, so proud of you for taking me..”

You were so tired, jaw aching while keening at the praise. His hands resting on your bare body made all the tension ease, the feeling of him still in you making you get too attached to him.

He laid still, taking in your state as he felt you turn your head to look at him, while he was already admiring you. Flashing you his smile that you loved so much. He curled up with you with his warm body holding your cold one, easing you to sleep with a faint smile on your face. You finally did something on your own.

#spike spiegel x reader #spike x reader

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sugar-petals · 3 years

Text

Analysis: Key Is on Fire in “Bad Love” Solo Album

As SHINee’s involvement in their masterful artistic process accumulates — see Taemin co-directing Criminal as of lately — it’s Key’s turn now: And oh boy has he delivered a title track with stylistic character and powerhouse vocals. Kibum is, as always, the notorious fiery institution to be reckoned with. The word choice being deliberate: We’ll look at how he uses fire as an overall symbolism in just a minute. There’s a lot to analyze, let’s get into it!

So yes, Key officially debuted! Technically, it’s not a comeback, but it feels like one. Key’s latest, prior occasional features date back to 2019/2018, now an album is here and it’s hard to believe it’s his very first. No wonder the chorus stage set appears like he does step on the scene now, but he knows what he’s doing, walking with purpose. It’s lights on for him. Disco balls, elevated stage, retro fonts, full fashion force: The party is here and he has an important statement to get off his chest.

An artist as seasoned as him, it’s been about time and Key gladly thinks so himself: Having put massive energy into this debut with immense worldbuilding. The production shows, this music video has a lot of sets and visual firework. Key certainly flourishes in cementing his status as a fashion icon once again, but also brings a lot more to the table because among all SHINee members, it’s common knowledge that the talent, handsomeness and quality performance simply overflows once the member starts digging the well.

Right off the bat, his entire concept is how people in the past imagined 2021 to be like, and seeing it now, it still feels futuristic, but also retro at the same time. So there’s a temporal type of idea at play. It definitely all follows a certain trend wave in music right now, but has its own tragedy-laden Space Opera twist. The teasers have been very illustrative and fantasy-based in that regard as did his Taeyeon collaboration in Hate That, on top of the Groks in the Keyland sci-fi references. Again: Key creates his own universe here, and SM is no stranger to having extraterrestrially good artists who came from way out there.

Interestingly, the title track itself shows things down to earth. It’s more about the surroundings and stage panoramas in the entertainment industry, hence the video is shot in such a wide frame. It’s a cinema, an all the world’s a stage type of feeling. And still, we do see the protagonist maneuvering his space ship through the universe but ultimately exploding in battle — by being shot at, the space gun is Key’s central aesthetic object in this concept after all. What does a space gun do: Blaze its way through, make way, remove obstacles. Exactly his objective.

Going back to the down to earth point. There’s quite a contrast between the indoor and outdoor settings here. In both, Key heads towards his demise, the lyrics underlining the plot for the most part from a more abstract perspective. What’s even more interesting, he watches either scenario on a screen after his escape. In essence, Key oversees his own downfall in retrospect. This is not a debut, he’s already deep inside the subject matter, in the struggle/reflection phase (of course, the music is in minor as well to emphasize that).

So, of course the track is quite embedded in existing pop culture currents. For instance, the MV references other tracks on the album: Saturday Night is reflected in Key visiting a late show host ripping up the script — a jab at SNL and/or a reference to Key saying he spent too much time doing variety to really focus on music, which is what really brought about his album.

At the same time, adding to the movie feel, the ever-popular film reference to Saturday Night Fever (1977) absolutely dominates the dancing parts. Key tapping into his somber disco mood mixed with Star Trek sci-fi and The Weeknd vibes (e.g. ”hey!” interjection at 0:17, red suit, etc) creates an 80s hommage and a new side to Kibum’s image. It’s very future and it’s very funky, but has its lyrical depth just like most songs on the album. He’s not working at the surface despite all the flashy stages. The glimpse into the shadows is very much there.

Other references can be drawn from the title itself. It’s no surprise that Key is aware how Lady Gaga’s Stupid Love has taken a similar sci-fi path in 2020, and BTS have made Fake Love a topic in 2018, however creating a more thriller-inspired aesthetic settled in electronic and rock genres. Looking at his dancers, Key also seems to hint at a parallel to Jongin’s title track Mmmh, cowboy hats are still all the rage. In essence: Key’s kept his eyes open and embeds his debut in the current pop stratosphere, while at the same time adding to the science fiction concept.

Also, as a precious moment we don’t miss: The ubiquitous T-posing (but Key style, he’s pushing the space apart to make room for himself, a strong overarching theme in his career and this album), SHINee has Taemin firmly in mind while he’s enlisted until it’s time to finally unite again. In many ways, Key wants to tell himself and us to hold out. It’s a track of persevering.

The pushing apart, in fact, is a central motive, tying into the “I’m stepping on the scene now” spirit all over.

Talk about that curtain: It’s literally a look behind the scenes to see what he’s been working on behind the curtain: Most of the music video, we see Key in backstage settings like his dressing room. Alternating back and forth between stages and behind the threshold, we get a glimpse of how he bridges that discrepancy, the “joy and despair” at the same time.

It feels like the music video wants us to see both sides as one, but also realize that his identity off stage has suffered some serious rupture and is plagued by resentment: Key stands at his Hollywood mirror with ripped clothes as if he got into a fight or wanted to tear it off himself but couldn’t succeed fully (likely the latter, we see a brief bit at the end where he tugs at his clothes).

Where all this bad love is coming from are more people than just the lady behind the mirror, but she’s arguably important despite only being shown for seconds. Since she’s his reflection, she could also be his ‘anima’ that he consults in bad times, but even she can’t comfort him.

As we’re talking about clothes already: The outfit changes are perfectly matched with the specific parts of the songs starting and ending. Editing what’s going on is in sync with the rhythm, and, in typical K-Pop style, alternates between dance and plot bits, stage and behind the scenes, dim and limelight. That duality shows in the lyrics as well once Key describes the person or thing or circumstance he’s fallen for as the light and the dark, beautiful but cruel, thrilling but mysterious.

Is the ‘bad monster’ Kibum sings about and struggles with the industry itself? Reading the lyrics from that perspective does make a lot of sense. The bad love is an awry deal of getting recognition on stage, hence Key is seen tearing scripts and cue cards all over the place. His spaceship malfunctions once he encounters this bad love elsewhere way out there, too, and he suffocates: Another reference to another track’s chorus, Yellow Tape. The overall message is: I need to get away from this. But, no matter where I am, the end is the same.

He is, like the corporate-tie mob of his dancers suggests, surrounded by faceless offenders — the masks are there with good reason and not just a nod to Taemin’s Advice comeback that had similar attire. Here, it’s more about the color: Everyone’s disguised in their own little fancy mask following Kibum’s every step from behind him, which is why we see him running out of the wardrobe after.

And here comes the crux of the matter. One element rules and is symbolic for Key’s overall message and energy: Fire. It plays a major role in every part of the video. His exploding space ship, sparks, backstage lights, burning paper. Congruently, of course he wears red as the central outfit. Through fire he can cleanse and clarify, but he also burns out from it in the last bit where he collapses/faints in front of the TV.

Fire is the turning point. The revelation and ridding of the hopelessness. He does say: “Even if I run away, there’s no paradise, now I know it never stops” but also takes the step to escape anyway to stand up for himself. Key chooses Key and not the trap and the TV camera time he’s offered.

He takes that idea as far as instating himself as a dying sun: At the center of its rays, but the lighting dims and the dancers roll over, lifeless at the end. The stage is about to be shut down. He paints a once-flamboyant image that has now ran out of energy from burning so bright. A grim message, but still, one that centers him and leaves him elevated regardless. Maybe with his life force remaining as the red = blood color of his suit suggests. In any case: Key has become a supernova with the last bit of power he has flaring up and standing tall.

The point dance says the same: Strength! Still kicking, still breaking barriers, still full of presence. Key conveys that he can still make it despite being so utterly burdened by the bad and rotten love coming his way everywhere.

Vocally and in the same vein, Key really shows off his compelling upper range throughout the entire album. The title track is no different. From belts to powerful head voice bits, we have a baritone climbing the higher registers on our hands here. Key is naturally not a melismatic singer (e.g. someone doing agile runs as a style, like Kyungsoo), instead, he enunciates very clearly, bit by bit.

Being a more syllabic vocal performer, Key brings his resonance onto the singular words to make the message more impactful. In other words, the song concept suits his grit and his voice. Melismatic singers do RnB or romantic genres well, syllabic singers have more precision. Key being a master of loud and resonant belting technique, the chorus is just right up his alley. Even if he’s not a tenor, he achieves similar strength and clarity. He sings so hard he almost strains, and again, it reflects the torment of the protagonist.

The choreography emphasizes struggle and strength as well, a dramatism and progressing as a person, a fight. Key dances passionately, it’s in your face, and the entire choreo is exactly what we expected and wanted it to be, delivered fierce and bold just like we know him. And it has to be glaring: The “Man I’m sick and tired” message of the song can’t be conveyed otherwise.

All in all, Key really did bring the fire with this title track, and you can see why it was chosen as the thematic flagship bringing so much heat. The music video does Key the exact justice as we expected — only he can headline with a banger about being mad at everything and setting fire to it — with an innovative twist that brings the nostalgia. He looks better than ever and the vocals, wow: It feels like Key’s powerful appeal can infuse the viewer equally to help them rebuff and shed the bad love in their own life.

#key #bad love #shinee #key bad love #kim kibum #key solo album #music #review #analysis #shinee analysis #kpop #kpop review #bad love mv #long post #shinee key

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runawaymun · 3 years

Note

For the wip game: give me sugar baby?

haha yeeeeeees you have a talent for finding the ones I desperately want to be asked about!!

Ok so we all know how I'm really really really partial to Celrond. I'm also really partial to Elrond/Lindir as an otp. Idk they're both just so??? soft???

And I have this dumbass idea for a modern AU romance fic for the two of them. And that name is just a stupid WIP name I slapped on there that a friend gave to me as a joke but now it's sticking oh no---

so ok, here's the concept blurb. This is gonna be long so bear with me.

Lindir plays sugarbaby to wealthy old-money businessman Thranduil Greenwood, CEO of Greenwood Breweries. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement: Lindir has time to focus on his music and sticks to a part-time job at a coffee shop to make a little extra money for himself. Thranduil has a sweet young thing to hang off his arm and make puppy eyes at him at parties and meetings.

Things get uncomfortable when Lindir starts to develop a crush on Thranduil’s business partner, Elrond Peredhel. He’s mysterious, tall, handsome in a DILF sort of way, and Lindir is hopelessly smitten...which makes it hard to focus on making Thranduil look good.

Oh, and Elrond owns the coffee shop chain where Lindir works. Lindir absolutely hates himself for falling in love with someone so rich, well connected, powerful, and so very out of his league. Lindir is pretty sure that Elrond Peredhel doesn’t even care that he exists.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

More headcannons and also a snippet or two under the cut! This one’s writing itself so I have much more on it than some others.

Elrond and Thranduil have a love/hate relationship. Elrond despises Thranduil’s arrogance and thinks he’s a little too debauched. Thranduil doesn’t think Elrond is debauched enough.

Thranduil lives on a giant forested estate near his breweries and wineries.

Elrond has one of those gorge-overlook type of houses, but maybe he has a suite in town for work. Definitely has semi-adult kids. Maybe Elladan and Elrohir are in college and Arwen is like still in school - maybe abroad? Foster-caring feral bby Aragorn who’s the son of a recently deceased friend. But yeah Elrond’s living in a giant house by himself. (Aragorn is still totally the heir to the throne of Gondor and his parents were assassinated).

Lindir is pretty grayce and panromantic. Like he doesn’t really care about sex but he does pine a lot (but is also wayyyyy too shy to be in a real relationship). He’s dated a few people but kind of just gives up once they want sex. Thranduil’s an awesome arrangement because Thranduil isn’t at all in to him. Lindir’s more of like, an attractive handbag or tie. The sugar baby arrangement is just for looks.

Which is a little frustrating because Lindir now can’t date anyone even if he wanted to, just in case their little “doting boyfriend” facade is ousted.

Elrond totally believes they’re dating though and Thranduil doesn’t have the heart to contradict him.

Elrond is fairly recently a widower/divorcee. He used to be a doctor but Celebrian developed a terminal illness and he couldn’t save her. And she ended up asking him to let her go and he quit medicine. Elrond is Sad(™). :( I hate to do this to Cel but I mean...it’s kind of canon.

Thranduil insists Elrond needs to get out more and is throwing people at him left, right, and center in a misguided attempt to be helpful. Lindir is over here being like OH MY GOD STOP TOUCHING HIM and being like “aaaaa i’m so jealous”. And meanwhile Elrond is also really jealous of Thranduil and Lindir but he’s telling himself that he’s just annoyed with Thranduil’s PDA and that it has absolutely nothing to do with how much he likes Lindir no not at all.

Elrond is really suave and together on the outside, but he’s actually just a really awkward touch-starved self-deprecating mess and he cannot understand why someone as young and pretty as Lindir is into him.

I have even more little headcannons but lmao I’ll stop. Here’s a few snippets of bits that I have written already:

Lindir stopped to check his makeup in the visor mirror and touched up his lip tint. As they got out, he asked: “Do you want me to talk?”

It was always a toss-up whether he was here as a distracting social buffer, or the elf equivalent of a handbag.

“Absolutely not. Denethor is simply such a depressing wretch. I’ll need something pretty to look at so I don’t start fantasizing about throwing myself into traffic.”

Right. Elf equivalent of a handbag.

Lindir preferred it that way. He was so unbearably awkward and he never knew what to say, but being a handbag didn’t require him to think. He just had to sit there, make puppy eyes at Thranduil, and laugh at his jokes. Easiest. Money. Ever.

The restaurant was stunning. Lindir would never dream of even setting foot inside something like this. Let alone affording to eat anything. Modern drop chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, smooth jazz echoed through the cavernous dining room, and every single person from the guests to the servers looked so sleek. Stepping into it felt like stepping into another dimension. It was busy tonight, but everyone talked politely over their food so that the hubbub was more of a pleasant murmur than anything else.

The host at the front desk recognized Thranduil the second he stepped through the front door and led them to their table. Lindir tagged dutifully along.

“Thranduil Greenwood! A vision as always.”

The voice belonged to an older man in a black suit seated at their table next to an objectively good-looking pack of muscles. Muscles had a scruffy ginger beard and an easy smile. Just Thranduil’s type. The other one who’d called out to them looked enough like Muscles to be his father, but was considerably less attractive.

Thranduil donned a demure smile and slipped his arm around Lindir’s waist. “Denethor. It has been far too long.” By Thranduil’s tone, it had been nowhere near long enough. “Have you met my sweet Lindir? I hope you have no qualms about him joining us. He’ll be good.”

Denethor’s expression soured. He quickly schooled it into something that was a distant bastard cousin of a smile, but he didn’t say hello. Muscles offered his hand.

“Boromir. A pleasure.”

Lindir shook it. “Like--likewise.” The stutter hadn’t been intentional. He’d just been so surprised that Boromir had paid him any attention at all. As the two of them sat, Thranduil threw his arm over the back of Lindir’s chair. Lindir leaned back into it. Their host came by and Thranduil ordered a bottle of wine. Both Denethor and Boromir already had twin glasses of some kind of amber alcohol with a red layer pooled on the bottom. Lindir didn’t know his drinks well enough to venture a guess as to what kind of cocktail it might be. Something expensive, to be sure.

Thranduil glanced at the one conspicuously empty chair and then back at the two men. “Where is Elrond?”

“Late,” Denethor croaked, as if it was the worst sin imaginable.

Thranduil’s smile thinned. It was the kind of smile Lindir knew meant he was thoroughly annoyed, but unwilling to relinquish a centimeter of composure.

Lindir had been staring at his wine glass. He looked up to see an elf in an immaculate burgundy suit gliding into the empty chair opposite Thranduil.

“I apologize for my tardiness. My flight was delayed and I had a serious matter to attend to at the district office.”

The elf, Elrond, Lindir presumed, was so tall it was unreasonable. He rivaled Thranduil, but he seemed a little more athletic. His voice was deep and warm, his expression kind-- if a little exhausted-- and he held himself like a king. And that hair! Receding ever so slightly, but it was so dark and long and neat, with tiny braids that framed his delicately pointed ears and-- he looked so familiar… why did he look so familiar?

Lindir was blushing. He was actually blushing. Oh, Valar. What’s wrong with me? It only got worse when those gray eyes landed on him. His stomach felt weird.

“Would you care to introduce me?”

Thranduil reclined back into his chair with a cheshire smile. “Lindir. Isn’t he a darling thing?”

Elrond glanced between the two of them. Lindir tried to sit up and relax his shoulders and act as if his blush was simply a product of the compliment. He shot Thranduil another one of his luminous saucer-eyed looks, and Thranduil leaned in to kiss him as if he really was the most irresistible thing in all of Arda.

Denethor cleared his throat. Boromir passed Elrond a menu. Elrond jumped at it, glad for something to look at that wasn’t the two of them.

“I believe this is a meeting, Thran, not one of your parties,” Elrond said in a tone that was almost scathing. “Do try to behave.”

Thranduil idly traced the shell of Lindir’s ear with the tip of his finger. “You wound me, mellon nin. I always behave.”

“Do excuse me for a moment. I have to take this. I shan’t be long.”

Thranduil strode off to the patio and Lindir sat there feeling utterly naked without him nearby. He’d been accompanying Thranduil to various engagements for almost six months now, but Thranduil had never left him alone. And of course it had to be today of all days.

Elrond reclined in his chair and took out his phone, coffee poised in one hand. Lindir cradled his own, stealing nervous looks toward the patio where Thranduil was beginning to pace and looked very cross. Lindir shrank in his chair and tried not to fidget.

The restaurant was fading into the closing hour. Most of the diners had filtered out. One of the hosts flitted around straightening chairs and wiping down tables. Another led a late-coming group to the bar.

Minutes dragged by. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Thranduil hadn’t come back. The silence was suffocating.

“I really like your suit,” Lindir blurted, and instantly wished for death.

Elrond looked up from his phone in surprise.

Lindir, for some Eru-forsaken reason, decided to add: “It’s-- it’s--it’s um-- a really nice...color. The red. Burgundy! I mean--”

A tiny smile spread across Elrond’s features. It would’ve been a great time for the floor to open up and swallow Lindir whole.

“Thank you,” Elrond said. He looked out at Thranduil, still pacing on the patio, then turned his attention back to Lindir. “You don’t seem like Thran’s type.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Lindir agreed, which was a mistake. His ears burned and he floundered for some way to recover. “He’s, um-- he’s way out of my league.” He flavored it with a laugh he hoped sounded more shy than anxious.

Elrond didn’t say anything. He just sat there, studying him with his phone balanced in his hand. It buzzed.

Linder blundered into: “Sorry,” because he didn’t know what else to say. Elrond’s phone buzzed again. “Should you--um-- that’s probably important. Sorry. Don’t mind me.”

Elrond set his phone face down on the table and took a sip of his coffee. “At the risk of sounding trite, what do you do? You said nothing during dinner.”

Lindir’s head emptied. A few moths might have flown out of it. He felt sure a tumbleweed blew through. Don’t say barista. Don’t say barista. Don’t you dare say you’re a barista.

“Music.”

No. That’s worse. Oh Elbereth, that’s so much worse! Why would you say that?

Elrond looked surprised again. “Music?” He echoed.

“Not really,” Lindir amended. “Kind of. Sort of. It isn’t really a thing. A thing-thing. I mean--”

“--Not really, kind of music?”

Valar, why wasn’t the floor swallowing him yet? Could he just disappear? A wild fantasy about a meteor falling from the sky to squash him into Lindir-soup suddenly struck him. That would be nice.

“It isn’t a career. I’m not anybody. I just write things-- and um, and play. What--what about you? I mean. That’s a stupid question. Obviously you’re a CEO…”

Elrond rescued before he could embarrass himself further. “I enjoy music as well. I must confess I’m not much good at making it. And I am a great lover of books.”

Despite himself, Lindir lit up. “What kind of books?”

“My apologies. That took far longer than I had expected.” Thranduil grazed his hand along the curve of Lindir’s neck. Lindir, habitually, leaned into it.

Elrond picked his phone back up and checked on that text. “No harm done. Lindir kept me company.”

Thranduil looked shocked.

“Did he?”

Elrond simply hummed and stood. He bent to write the check for dinner before Thranduil could beat him to it. “It is very late, mellon nin. But perhaps we can continue this conversation at a later date. I will have Glorfindel call you to arrange it.” He rebuttoned his burgundy suit jacket and, on his way out, said: “He’s very charming, Thranduil. Keep that one.”

Once Elrond was gone, Thranduil turned to Lindir with a withering glare.

“I just said his suit looked nice,” Lindir mumbled.

“His suit is burgundy,” Thranduil exclaimed with abject horror. “I have been trying to rid him of that dreadful thing for an Age.”

“Sorry.”

Yeah that’s part of the really garbled first chapter. I have most of an outline & planned a lot of scenes. It’s mostly just really gay self-indulgent fluffy garbage lmao. I’ll get around to actually posting the thing one of these days, but I really want to finish And the Stars Shine the Same first!

#my fics #out of uniform #elrond #lindir #thranduil

27 notes · View notes

zintranslations · 3 years

Text

Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 3

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Extra: Shameless Couple (2)

Ruan Nanzhu's stint as an actor was purely for fun, so nobody took the matter very seriously. But months later, as Ruan Nanzhu sat around bored at home with nothing to do, he got a call from Zhang Yiqing. The movie was premiering, and Zhang Yiqing sent him two free tickets for him to go have a look.

Tickets in hand, Ruan Nanzhu invited Lin Qiushi to go see the movie together. The two arrived happily at the theater, Lin Qiushi bought a bucket of popcorn, and they sat down in the audience.

The movie was a hundred minutes total; Lin Qiushi didn't have high expectations coming in, but afterwards, he was completely blown away. Though Zhang Yiqing had been an actor and had never gone through an official director’s program, he obviously had quite a lot of talent in the realm of directing. At least, the techniques he used to shoot this wuxia film that Ruan Nanzhu got a cameo in were good enough to provoke cheers and applause.

Ruan Nanzhu, playing the prince in the movie, was also exceptional.

But after they watched it, that was that. Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu went home without thinking too much on the matter, until the next day when Lin Qiushi opened up his social media and saw that Ruan Nanzhu's character was trending…He didn't understand such things very well. He clicked into the tag and found many people gushing about Ruan Nanzhu's acting and good looks, and asking how come they'd not seen this new actor before. No one thought that this new guy with so few lines would be so eye-catching.

Lin Qiushi woke the bleary-eyed Ruan Nanzhu and pushed the phone in front of his face.

"Nanzhu, are you famous?"

Ruan Nanzhu opened his eyes and peered once at the phone screen before pushing Lin Qiushi down into bed again. He kissed Lin Qiushi's chin and said, "forget about that…"

Lin Qiushi, "oh…"

Ruan Nanzhu had little actual concept of himself going viral, so when he was having lunch with Lin Qiushi one day, he was actually pretty irritated to get Zhang Yiqing's phone call.

"I'm just a minor side character," he said, "why should I go on your publicity tour? What? Blacklist me? Did you take the wrong meds this morning? I'm not even in the industry, blacklist me all you want—"

Lin Qiushi listened at the side and found it funny, but then Zhang Yiqing said something at the end, and Ruan Nanzhu actually stopped refusing. Brows furrowing, he looked up once at Lin Qiushi before agreeing to Zhang Yiqing's request to go on a publicity tour with him and the cast.

After hanging up, Ruan Nanzhu said that Zhang Yiqing wanted him to go do publicity for a bit of time.

"Go," Lin Qiushi said. "But if you really dislike it, don't force yourself. We lack for nothing."

"Mh." Ruan Nanzhu nodded, taking Lin Qiushi's words to heart.

After that, Lin Qiushi's projects got busy as well, and he didn't have the time to pay attention to developments around Ruan Nanzhu's movie. The point at which he realized Ruan Nanzhu was well and truly famous was when he discovered that a young employee had switched her desktop screensaver to a picture of Ruan Nanzhu. Lin Qiushi had even thought he'd been seeing things at first, pointing at the screensaver and asking the girl, "who's this?"

The girl turned to Lin Qiushi with an expression of excitement and began a fanatic recommendation of Ruan Nanzhu, saying how this was a super popular newcomer named Yu Qiuqiu, and not only was he good looking but is acting was also amazing!

Lin Qiushi, "…" Alright alright, enough already. I know exactly how amazing his acting is.

That night, Lin Qiushi stared thoughtfully at Ruan Nanzhu, who was in his pajamas in the kitchen, watching TV.

Ruan Nanzhu noticed Lin Qiushi's gaze. He turned around to ask, "what is it?"

Lin Qiushi, "Nanzhu…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "hm?"

Lin Qiushi, "are you famous?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "famous? What do you mean?"

Seeing his bewildered expression, Lin Qiushi had no choice but to change his wording: "Is Yu Qiuqiu famous?" And this bastard even debuted with his pseudonym.

Ruan Nanzhu slapped a hand to his thigh. "Yeah! Our Qiuqiu is super famous! Zhang Yiqing recommended me to his friends trying to make me the main character—"

Lin Qiushi, "isn't that a good thing?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "how is it a good thing? If I'm making movies I have to run around all the time. I can't keep you company like that."

Lin Qiushi thought about it.

"But you're just doing it for fun, so you don't have to worry about all that. You don't have to film if you don't want to. If you're tired you can just take a break." Other stars may have burdens, but Ruan Nanzhu didn't.

"Okay then," Ruan Nanzhu agreed. Then he seemed to recall something. "Right. The newcomer from Obsidian came to set a couple of times. I ignored him, but tell Ye Niao that if he keeps coming, I might not be able to handle it."

It took Lin Qiushi a long while to remember the existence of this person—it seemed to be the newcomer coveting Ruan Nanzhu for his good looks, who was under the impression that Lin Qiushi had taken Ruan Nanzhu by force.

He asked, "what do you mean by not being able to handle it?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "I might not be able to handle it and end up decking him, of course."

Lin Qiushi, "…"

The facts were, after being baptized by the doors, their bodies had all become stronger than those of normal people. This was the case for Lin Qiushi. He'd thought at first that he would be around Ruan Nanzhu's level, but then one evening, he’d discovered that he wasn't Ruan Nanzhu's opponent at all. Ruan Nanzhu, who'd wanted to try some fun little technique, restrained Lin Qiushi with ease; a single hand was all it took to pressed both of Lin Qiushi's above their heads. That hand that looked as pale and delicate as jade had felt just like a metal shackle, and no matter how Lin Qiushi struggled, it hadn’t budge an inch.

Also, every time he picked Lin Qiushi up to go wash, Ruan Nanzhu could lift him, a healthy grown adult male, in one arm.

Afterthis discovery, Lin Qiushi had laughed at himself for worrying about Ruan Nanzhu getting mistreated outside—Lin Qiushi counted all of them lucky that Ruan Nanzhu wasn’t mistreating people.

"Don't worry about it." For the above reasons, Lin Qiushi said as much. "If he really annoys you, do what you must."

Ruan Nanzhu nodded.

Just a few days after they'd discussed the matter, Lin Qiushi went to check in on Ruan Nanzhu at work. Ruan Nanzhu was filming a modern movie this time, and played a handsome serial killer in the script. Lin Qiushi thought this character setting rather suited Ruan Nanzhu.

He was waiting on the curbside at first. But then his ears caught onto a strange noise. It sounded like a person…keening. Lin Qiushi heard this, and his brows puckered. He turned and looked into a small, dark alley. The film was being shot in the studio backlot, which was complicated and filled with architecture of various styles. So naturally, there were plenty of out-of-the-way spots that the cameras can't capture.

Just as Lin Qiushi was wondering if he ought to take a look, he heard Ruan Nanzhu's voice.

And Ruan Nanzhu sounded a bit dark, a bit scratchy, when he said, "feels good?"

Lin Qiushi, "…"

He padded silently to the entrance of the alley and saw Ruan Nanzhu standing inside. There was another person kneeling in front of Ruan Nanzhu. Though it was dark enough that Lin Qiushi couldn't really make out the other person's face, the scene before him wasn't anywhere as raunchy as he'd imagined.

That person was lying on the ground like a dead dog. Ruan Nanzhu heard his footsteps and turned around, and when he saw Lin Qiushi, he hung a faint smile up where a cold expression had previously been. His motions were natural as he rolled down his sleeves, approaching Lin Qiushi.

"What brings you here?"

Lin Qiushi glanced at the man hanging on his last breath lying on the floor.

"He's not dead, is he?"

"Of course not, I know when to stop." Ruan Nanzhu came over, seeming like a sweet and adorable big kitty, as if the icy ruthlessness from before had all been an illusion. "We'll call him an ambulance. He'll be fine."

"I…I'm calling the cops…" The person's call from the ground was as faint as a mosquito's. "You…you hit me…"

It was only then that Lin Qiushi identified this person. Wasn't this the newcomer from Obsidian that Ruan Nanzhu had mentioned only a few days ago? Lin Qiushi hadn't expected the guy to still be harassing Ruan Nanzhu, and had apparently pissed Ruan Nanzhu off enough to get beaten up so badly that not even his own mother could recognize him.

Man, how complicated his feelings must have been when a single slap from Ruan Nanzhu, who’d seemed like nothing more than a little white bunny, was enough to take him down.

Lin Qiushi said, "if he still has the strength to threaten us, then we probably don't need to call an ambulance."

Ruan Nanzhu, "no need. I avoided all the vital areas—'tis all just flesh wounds."

Lin Qiushi nodded, fished out his phone, and gave Ye Niao a call. Ye Niao was furious. He said he was on his way and urged Lin Qiushi not to be angry.

After Lin Qiushi hung up he lifted Ruan Nanzhu's hand.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"I am," Ruan Nanzhu pouted. "Look, it's injured."

Lin Qiushi searched the hand all over at this, and finally found a single patch of broken skin no bigger than his pinky. He looked back at the man beaten to a pulp beside them, then back at the wound on the back of Ruan Nanzhu's hand. Finally, he couldn't hold in his laughter anymore.

"You're so…"

Laughter also surfaced in Ruan Nanzhu's eyes.

Ye Niao came quickly and dragged that person off like he was dragging out the trash. Before he left he even apologized to Lin Qiushi for his poor judgment and for choosing such a person…

Lin Qiushi said, "don't worry about it. Everybody makes mistakes."

The matter pretty much ended there. Lin Qiushi never saw that person again, and no police ever came to bother them. Ye Niao took neat care of the matter.

"They didn't give you a hard time, did they?" This was what Lin Qiushi asked Ruan Nanzhu after they got home.

Ruan Nanzhu, in response, "who's they?"

Lin Qiushi, "the cast and crew, of course."

Ruan Nanzhu slid off in thought. "They think I'm being kept by some heavy hitter, and mess around with the mob…"

Lin Qiushi, "…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "so, they're actually pretty respectful?"

At this, Lin Qiushi didn't know for a moment whether he ought to laugh or cry. Ruan Nanzhu himself was the heaviest hitter—why would he possibly be the kept boy of one? But since he liked to act so much, there was no harm in Lin Qiushi playing along. They still had a long time together, after all. There were plenty of things for them to try.

Ruan Nanzhu scooted close to Lin Qiushi, setting his chin on Lin Qiushi's shoulder and mumbling something about being sleepy. Lin Qiushi stroked his hair like he was petting a giant cat. This animal, when tamed, seemed just like an overgrown kitty, but if you actually pissed him off, he was actually a ruthless beast.

But this was a beast that would never extend its claws at Lin Qiushi, was all.

Translator’s Note:

The term translated as “heavy hitter” here, 大佬, has actually appeared often in the text. It’s a slang term that kind of means “the big guy,” as in the boss, the one with the most experience, etc. RNZ gets called this a lot, especially in the Hako Onna door.

[Extra: Shameless Couple(1)] | [Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths(1)]

#kaleidoscope of death #xi zixu #cnovel #chinese translation #死亡萬花筒

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wendimydarling · 3 years

Text

Cover the Mirrors

Summary: Amber is earning a masters degree in mythology and folklore; when a handsome stranger sweeps her off her feet, she’s left wondering how, and struggles to keep up with his lifestyle.

Pairing: Vampire!August Walker x OFC (first person reader)

Word Count: 6826

Warnings: Alright, we ready to get into the menu of delights we will be reading today? Okay but seriously, if you are triggered by anything on this list, it is your responsibility to not read this work of fiction. The warnings are as follows: manipulation, subtle exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, mention of oral (male receiving), biting, clawing, choking, blood, male violence, gore, non-con, rape, spitting, fear play, primal play, breeding, mention of death, torture, and potentially cannibalism, if you squint.

A/N: Okay so this story is based off of this thread where @killjoy-assbutt-1112 gave me a fic title, but I added another twist to it that I’d been brewing for months; I was excited about it but now I’m not. Whatever, I’ll give it to you anyway. Sources for my vampire lore came from here and here. Cover art was made by me; August was drawn by the amazingly talented @cheyentjj and has been used with her permission. Thank you so much to everyone who brainstormed with me, and a special thanks to @agniavateira for betaing!

“If you look at the Slavic region, vampire folklore runs rampant. One especially interesting specimen is the Pijavica. The Pijavica (translated “leech”, or “drinker”) was a rare species of vampire— traditionally male, and a powerfully strong, cold-blooded killer. The potential for conception is most commonly believed to be through the incest of the deceased with his mother during his life, though some believe that one can be created through the exceptionally malicious and evil acts of the deceased before his death.

The birth of a Pijavica is attributed to many different causes, including suffering an “unnatural” or untimely death such as suicide, excommunication, improper burial rituals, or even simple causes such as an animal jumping or bird flying over either the corpse or the empty grave, being conceived on certain days, or being born with a caul, teeth, or tail.”

I paused my typing, fingers leaving the keyboard in order to brush loose strands of hair from my face. Around me, the baristas of my favorite coffee shop were buzzing like worker bees in an old hive; they were gearing up for the lunch rush, and I realized I’d been here four hours already.

This place had long been my go-to study zone. It was small; there was just enough hustle and bustle to keep me from descending too deep into the abyss of studying and yet, it had the respect of the patrons that a library does. The owner, Fred, made sure that conversations were kept in hushed tones, courteous to those of us who needed to work in noise instead of quiet.

“If ya wanna be loud, go sit at a Starbucks!” He’d huff at those who didn’t heed his warning.

My eyes took in the familiar surroundings as I stretched. An oversized wood-burning fireplace filled the wall next to the vintage cash register; it was sandwiched between two built-in bookcases housing stories of all kinds that were meant to be read and enjoyed. The old stone clackling ran all the way up the wall, and a custom mantle made from an old oak tree that had fallen in Fred’s backyard sat delicately above the firebox. Yes, this shop was magical. It held a special place in my heart, and I’d visited so often that old Fred had deemed the table I sat at as “my table”. It was always kept reserved for me.

I reached for my coffee without looking; my brain needed more caffeine. I’d spent months on this master thesis, and yet for some reason, the notion of vampires was such a struggle. I didn’t understand the fear of those who lived back then. The origins of bloodsuckers were chaotic, the “treatments” laughable and still, people were willing to kill their own offspring over such nonsensical superstitions. Cold drops of stale roast hit my lips in a harsh reminder that I’d finished my previous dose. I sighed heavily and dropped the cup to the wooden surface of my table. Eyes closed, I laced my fingers around my neck and drew my elbows together to stretch my spine. Coffee. I need more coffee.

“Having trouble?”

A man’s baritone, smooth as whiskey interrupted my thoughts. My body jolted at his leisurely tone, and I nearly tumbled off the chair as my eyes snapped open to view the intruder. Sitting across from me was anything but a man; I was in the presence of divine artistry, two breathtaking orbs of gray-washed sky centered below auburn curls that adorned his perfectly symmetrical face. A sharp nose pointed to his strong jaw, while an amused smirk tugged at the corner of lips that I’m certain could send even a nun to her bedroom for self-maintenance. He wore a crisp, pinstripe suit, the buttons of his dress shirt undone sinfully low, revealing a smattering of additional curls.

My oversized turtleneck sweater and leggings suddenly felt subpar.

“The name’s Walker,” he mused further, gesturing a large hand toward the empty paper tumbler that was now lying on its side. “What were you drinking?”

“I--I um,” I fumbled with my words, embarrassed by my sudden inability to form a proper sentence. “I had a flat white? With two extra shots of espresso.”

The man named Walker had the cup in his hand and was out of his chair before I could blink; he was already ordering another coffee by the time I managed to process his intentions. I watched him hand the barista a bill I couldn’t see, but by the shocked expression on her face at the man’s declination of the change, it must have been a sizable amount. He sat down at the table again and stared at my chest unabashedly, making it clear he wasn’t just looking but imagining as well.

I should have been offended or felt objectified, but instead I felt drawn into his gaze.

“Having trouble?” He asked again, gesturing this time at my laptop.

“How long were you sitting there?” I blurted out, still too flummoxed to answer his question. Walker laughed and I swear, time stood still. Never in my life had I heard something so beautiful.

“Long enough.”

His reply was short and cryptic, a dismissal of my burgeoning curiosity. The barista chose that moment to bring two orders of coffee to the table, offering both of them to Walker by mistake. I took in her awestruck countenance, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if my face matched hers I’d sink to the floor and die of shame. That notion shook me from my stupor and I was finally able to address his question.

“It’s my master thesis,” I explained, taking a sip of the scalding liquid he handed me. “I’m a History major, with an emphasis in mythology and folklore.”

I took another sip and tapped my phone, large numbers greeting me on the screen. Numbers that told me I was extremely late.

“Oh my god I have to go, I’m so sorry!” I apologized, scrambling to pack my things. In my haste I knocked my drink off the table. Resignation sunk in deep, submission to the knowledge of further humiliation at the impending spill. None came however, as Walker caught the drink in his hand before it crashed to the dark tiles.

“Thank you,” I murmured, gawking at him in bewilderment. Who was this man?

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, standing to help me collect the remainder of my books. “I’m interested in your thesis, could we perhaps discuss it over dinner? I don’t want to keep you from your next engagement.”

“I—” I stared at him, his face open and inviting. I’d been asked out before, but never this abruptly, and never by someone who looked and behaved like him. It sounded like an adventure…or a good story to tell on girls’ night at least.

“You know what, sure. Why not?”

I scribbled my number onto a napkin and slid it his way, grabbing the rest of my gear and heading toward the door. As I pushed against the hard metal, Walker’s large fingers caught my wrist, wrapping around it like ivy wraps around a lamppost. They were cool to the touch and yet somehow, my entire body immediately felt heated.

“We forgot first names,” he chuckled, “I’m August.”

I grinned sheepishly, pulling my arm from his surprisingly firm grip. The clank of the metal door handle resonated with the introduction I threw over my shoulder as I left the warmth of the shop and the handsome man behind.

“Amber.”

It took August a full week to call me. I felt like a fool; Did I leave on a poor note? Had I offended him somehow? Did he simply decide to change his fucking mind? I was kicking myself for saying yes; how could I have agreed to go on a date with a complete stranger? Now that I was no longer in his flustering presence, I began to see reason again. I knew nothing more than this man’s name, and the fact that he was more than likely rich. He could be a cold-blooded killer for all I knew, and I had every intention of telling him off.

I was in my apartment when he called. Still stuck on my thesis, I was currently unable to determine how best to explain the theory behind the sexual appeal of vampires. In my frustration, I hung upside down over the side of my bed, reading a book that discussed the many different works of literature revolving around vampirical romanticism and hoping the blood rushing to my brain would help me ascertain how to go about my explanation. The book was written by two authors who essentially argue the whole time, one of them convinced that the human fascination with vampires stems from the cannibalistic nature of bloodsucking or that it alluded to other bodily fluids such as semen, whereas the other stood firm in his belief that it held a much simpler cause; it was nothing more than the presence of oral fixation and sadism that caused the fantasy to plant its seed.

My phone vibrated but I ignored it, too engrossed in my book to be bothered with answering. I was so close… the answer was right there, it just continued to escape me. It wasn’t until my phone vibrated a second time to notify me of a voicemail that I put the pages down and picked up the electronic device.

The moment I heard August excusing his delay in calling to a work emergency, I immediately sat up and hit redial. There was something in his voice that made my heart quicken and my pulse race; it made the hair on my arms stand on end. I regretted sitting up so fast as it rang, the blood surrounding my brain draining quickly into the rest of my body. August answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Amber.”

“I—hi.”

I rolled my eyes then flinched in pain, congratulating myself sarcastically on how pathetic that response sounded with a slap of my palm to my forehead.

“Please, allow me to apologize again for waiting so long to call,” August insisted, seemingly unphased by my lack of vocabulary. “I still intend to take you to dinner, that is if you haven’t written me off completely.”

“No it’s fine, I totally get it,” I assured him. I had completely forgotten my earlier annoyance. He had explained it after all, and it could happen to anyone.

“Perfect. I’ll send a car tonight then, at seven. Wear something revealing please, I wasn’t able to see that pretty little neck of yours last time.”

My insides shook with an unexpected pang of shocked arousal at August’s request. The sexual confidence saturating his tone had me instantly reduced to nothing more than a deep desire for him to drag me to my knees by my hair. Why I wasn’t offended by the dominantly abrupt way this man spoke to me, I’ll never know. I put on the best flirty air I could manage in my stupor.

“I think I can manage that. Might have to charge you though.”

August laughed for the second time since I’d known him and I smiled, proud that I’d caused such a melodious sound to grace this earth.

“I like your spirit; you’re gonna be fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I—okay bye,” I managed to say before he hung up. I stared at my phone stupidly, as though I thought he was going to call again. Instead, the large clock face glared up at me like it always does, an ever present reminder that I live on a different plane of time than the rest of the world. I fell back on the bed, thinking about the man named August.

He likes my spirit? I hadn’t really shown him much, I’d been unable to do anything but stammer and trip over my words like a schoolgirl would when confronted by the cutest jock at school. What could he possibly see in me? The woman I truly was, the one I knew was underneath the bumbling idiot finally answered me. You’ve got three hours, Amber. Show him what you’re made of.

Resolve set in, and I bounced off the bed and walked toward my closet. For whatever reason, he’d chosen me, so I was going to let my confidence in that thought override all the self-doubt that was threatening to surface. I pulled my favorite dress from the hanger and set out to work. He wanted revealing? Then revealing is what he’d get, but I was going to do it my way.

The car was punctual, though I was less so. I scrambled to put diamond studs in my ears while being driven to some unknown location, my nerves making my hands shake. Once again, the notion that I could be driving to my death crept up my spine, but I brushed it off. Rich men send cars, it’s what they do. And I am an intelligent woman, I wouldn’t let myself be put in that situation.

Would I?

Touching the final stroke of Red Wine lipstick on my lips, I pulled my loose curls over my shoulder to expose my neck and put my things in my vintage black clutch, staring out the window at the ancient building that housed the most expensive club in town. I was suddenly grateful I’d chosen such a fancy dress. I fidgeted with the soft hem of the sleeve at my wrist, drawing it back and forth between my fingers while I waited for the driver to come to a stop.

I saw August there waiting, looking sharp as ever in another expensive three-piece suit, buttons undone just as low as the first time. This time however, I felt much better matched to his attire, and my confidence rose right next to my excitement. August came down the steps to open the door and I took his hand, hiking the burgundy velvet up to my thigh so that I could exit the car smoothly. The heavy fabric dropped to the ground the moment I freed it from my grasp, allowing August to study how I’d chosen to honor his request.

August drank in my covered form, taking in the way my dress hugged my curves and accentuated what it needed to. His eyes darkened as they lingered on the single large triangular section of bare skin that started at my shoulders and came to a point between my breasts, and I watched his tongue dart out of his mouth softly. He looked downright hungry. August stepped closer, fingertips grazing the flesh on my collarbone before he fastened his grip onto my nape and inhaled the hair at my temple deeply, pressing his lips to my ear.

“You are simply mouthwatering,” he growled, low and possessive. His hand released my neck and slid down to the small of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. My insides quivered at his touch, fragrant drops of dew pooling rapidly in the flimsy lace that guarded my mound from potential intruders.

“You wanted to see my ‘pretty little neck’,” I teased his earlier arrogance, lifting my skirt to traverse the steps leading inside, “I thought I’d frame her for you, give her the spotlight.”

August cocked an eyebrow at me in amusement, sensing my challenge. His fingers dug into my hip a little harder than necessary as he guided me through the establishment with nothing more than a nod to the hostesses. Apparent jealousy marred the face of one, and I thought I saw a hint of worry on the other. We were gone before the emotion could register in my mind.

I was escorted to a private booth in the upstairs of the establishment. While the first floor was crowded and full of people, the second floor was empty; August had requested it for our use alone. I could hear the hum of nightlife below, the haunting, non-lyrical melody of a soft alto wafting over the balcony as we walked past, the whispered promise of an enchanting night. A few tables and chairs were strategically placed on the floor, hugged by back-to-back rounded booths on either wall. Light ethereal curtains hung on either side of them, offering privacy from the guests who would typically sit in the next box over. August led me to the corner booth nearest the balcony so that we could look upon the stage if we chose.

“Our table, milady,” he joked, leaving a wet kiss on the back of my hand. Though the charade was seemingly in jest, it could not have been farther from it. His piercing eyes never left mine and I gasped at the feel of his brazen tongue on my skin. The suggestion of what he could do with it hung thick in his gaze, lacing the air with the succulent first tendrils of decadent tension. Playing along, I took a sharp breath and curtsied. I stayed low as August stood to show him the appeal of my figure at this angle, tilting just my head to look up at him. He stood there, head held high like a king, and the smile I received at my display was downright sinful.

“What a treat you are,” he murmured, cupping my chin briefly. My breasts swelled as I stood, consenting August the claim to chivalry by way of settling me into the alcove. He swept my hair over my shoulder again, trailing a single finger down my neck in admiration before taking his own seat. My insides were nothing but a pile of kindling, and every touch he gave was a spark that threatened to ignite the dry leaves into a burning flame of need.

The courses came and went just like those moments, every phrase emphasized with physical intimacy of some kind, whether it be just a gossamer brush of his fingers on my ear or an intentional grasping of my hand. He went as far as to boldly stroke the back of his knuckle along my cleavage, making me dizzy with desire. Each touch was avaricious—like he owned me—and I had zero qualms about letting him.

We ate our fill, but August made no move to leave the comfort of our small corner. With the noise of people below dulled by the far reaches of our seclusion, it was easy to converse. I told him more about my master thesis and the Pijavica, how they could read minds and enjoyed the power of persuasion, how they were impervious to all but decapitation, and how only their offspring could kill them. He listened intently, sharing tales of his own career. It was how I discovered that he was a doctor.

“I don’t practice anymore though, I prefer to study and learn. Specifically, I’m attracted to tears.”

“Tears?” That struck me as odd; it wasn’t often you came across someone who had such a unique field of study. “Why tears?”

August swirled the whiskey in his glass and downed it abruptly. He subtly indicated to our attendant for another before continuing his explanation.

“I’ve always had a fascination for the small things, things that people don’t seem to think matter; the mind-body connection, you know? For example,” he brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, “Did you know that the cellular structure of tears looks different based on the type of tear?”

August cupped my neck with both of his hands, tilting my head this way and that, his calm features set in measured focus as he spoke.

“Basal, reflexive, emotional... they all look different.”

I closed my eyes, letting him caress my skin. August’s touch was intoxicating, addicting. Even his scent was an aphrodisiac to my senses. I couldn’t get enough of it, lured ever closer to his sturdy frame, letting him manipulate my body how he saw fit. He nuzzled my hair, his soft spoken words dripping with lust into my ear.

“In fact,” he went on, “Even among those categories they differ, dependent on the stimuli.”

I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips surrounding the pulsepoint in my veins as he spoke, my jaw his destination. A hand snuck under my skirt, skimming along my trembling skin toward the seeping treasure that awaited him at the end of his journey. I spread my legs willingly, inviting him into my deepest of secrets. August hummed as he went on, sending spirals of tingling vibrations through my chest.

“The sting of onions, the sadness of grief… the satisfaction of overwhelming pleasure.”

“August…” I breathed, but my voice was severed as August simultaneously laid claim to my mouth and my womb. Thick fingers penetrated me in the same moment as his probing tongue, and it was in that moment I knew I was lost; August Walker could pull everything from me and I wouldn’t care; I’d want it, need it. He had spent all night teasing me, testing me, manipulating me and filling me with nothing but a desire for more, leaving me empty and wanting. He had succeeded, I now craved him above all else in this world.

August lifted my skirts, hoisting me with little effort to straddle his lap and I cried out in shock. The sound of my sudden impalement on the thick steel of his manhood was camouflaged by the crowd of people below; no one heard the echo of carnal awakening that sang through the air. When had he undressed? I bit my lip as he sank deeper into my core until the salty bitterness of copper and iron stung my chin. August’s eyes fell to the red droplet, darkening until the only color left in his pale irises was the very absence of light. With a hideous growl he ravaged my mouth, tasting every inch of my bruised lips with the hunger of an animal that’s been caged for far too long.

Thrill and terror tangled themselves in my mind, weaving an intricate web of wanton desire inside of me as August took me right there in the booth. Time itself seemed to halt, the room disappeared. Were we still in the club? Was it still the dead of night? Did I still require oxygen to breathe? Or was my life source now August’s touch, the light in my very soul dependent upon his kiss?

I didn’t notice when we left, nor when we arrived at a house that overlooked the city. I didn’t notice the lock on the basement door, or the fresh garden in the yard. I didn’t notice the continual rising and setting of the sun. I didn’t notice when I grew hungry, nor when I grew tired. I didn’t notice, not anything but passion, need, and desperation.

I didn’t notice.

Sleep drained from my limbs slowly. I awoke to black silk caressing my skin, dim sunlight shining through the wall, diffused by a covering of clouds that hung in the sky. It confused me that it was coming through the entire wall, until I realized that said wall was simply one large window, and the room I found myself in was built into the rock of an obsidian cliff overlooking the city. The room was minimally decorated in dark tones that coordinated with the nature outside, save for a striking, golden painting of a woman crying on the far wall. I clearly wasn’t home, and last night’s events slowly returned to the forefront of my mind.

August.

August was, without a doubt, the most attentive lover I’d ever had. Memories of his lips, his scent, his god-like physique that was surely carved from marble entertained my thoughts, returning my mind to the pleasure I’d never experienced in my life. Chills ran up and down my skin, alighting in wonder as my hand drifted to my sex. My fingers found my petals, swollen from overuse, aching in the dull agony of satisfaction. I stroked them gently, soothing the pleasant tenderness, moaning softly as the blood rushed to swell my clit once more, my other hand slipping beneath the silk to join in the heavenly edging torment.

A sharp, sudden sting at the brush of my inner thigh caused me to cry out, my hands snatching away from their play. I sat up, peering beneath the sheets to discover a semi-circle of divots cut into my leg. Is that a… a bite mark? I pulled at the skin and felt the dried blood crack, a small pinprick of new red seeping through the scab. I lunged from the bed to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner and look for other signs or markings, but what I found made me gasp.

Bruises peppered my neck, chest, hips and thighs. A few other crescents were scattered amongst them, standing out against the dark patches that shaded my skin. I took a physical inventory then, feeling the soreness in my jaw from being stretched by his cock, the ache of my neck from having my hair pulled, the shaky feeling of muscular fatigue in my legs from being tensed by orgasm after orgasm. I thought I detected a slight sheen on my skin, but I couldn’t tell if that was from the tremulous bliss of a satisfying fuck, or if it was the sweat and oil caused by said satisfying fuck. Either way, I looked happy and content. I grabbed August’s dress shirt from the floor and threw it on as I left the room to explore.

The bedroom led to a hallway, the wall to my left still nothing but expansive glass that showed off the impressive view. On the other side were large, black and white abstract prints, hung evenly spaced against dark panels. To the left of each was a shadow box with an ornate glass vial inside; each bottle was thin, no longer than my palm and differing in design from the others. Tiny, intricate patterns were painted on the outsides in white, blue, and gold, and gold stoppers sealed each one. When I entered the main room, I discovered a curio cabinet that housed at least a hundred of them, and I leaned in to look at how varied each one was.

“Victorian tear catchers,” August’s voice was suddenly behind me and I whirled sharply, startled. He chuckled at my alarm and I laughed with him, enjoying that glorious sound.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, turning back to look at the delicate glass. August pulled me against his naked chest, nosing my hair and kissing my neck.

“Yes you are,” he whispered, earning an eye roll from me. August chuckled and opened the cabinet.

“Would you like one?”

“Really?”

I looked at him, stunned. He simply nodded his head in the direction of the vials and I examined them, selecting one that had a white pattern on it that looked like lace.

“Mmm, a good choice. Perhaps I can collect tears of ecstasy for you,” August whispered. The thrill of what he was implying awakened my senses, and I let him lead us slowly back toward the bedroom. I felt like teasing him, so I delayed a bit by asking about the art on the wall.

“What are those?” I pointed to the first print, a cross-hatching pattern that looked like it was made of sewing pins.

“Those are tears of grief,” he stated, stopping in front of each as he walked me gradually down the hall.

“A yawn,” he said of the next, a white background with dark, fern-looking splatters. August traced his mouth along my jaw, his hand dipping beneath the button of his shirt to play with the sensitive nipples he had rediscovered. I keened as he continued shifting us toward the kitchen, struggling to keep my composure. The next print was a much darker gray, and it looked like it was covered in snowflakes.

“Any guesses?” August asked, mouthing my earlobe in tandem with the flick of his thumbs over my hardened nubs. I whimpered, my knees weak in his lustful embrace.

“Uhm… cold air?” I rasped as he sucked on my neck. August chuckled through his nose, the vibrations of his voice rippling through my chest to connect with his teasing fingers.

“Onions.”

“Yeah okay.”

I tilted my head so that I could kiss him, but suddenly the thought of onions turned my stomach. I lurched, pulling away and gagging slightly. Instead of concern, August smiled knowingly, seemingly unbothered by my retching.

“I see morning sickness has set in. It’s a little early and I had hoped you’d be able to avoid it, but alas, that’s not the case.”

My head swam suddenly, confusion mutilating all thought. I backed away from him.

“Morning what? What are you talking about?”

August took a step toward me, placing a hand on my belly and lacing his fingers in the hair at my nape.

“Women always taste better after they’ve conceived. And I can keep them longer; they make much more blood when they’re host to a fetus.”

I pushed against him, turning away and vainly attempting to process his words. Pregnant? Taste better? Blood? My eyes focused on a card I hadn’t noticed earlier in the shadow box, a single word printed on it.

Bridgette

“Isn’t it ironic,” August mused, tracing my collarbone with a thick finger, “That five weeks ago, you had a chance encounter with the very thing you’ve been studying for months, and now you carry his child.”

The room spun. I couldn’t think; my brain refused to process the nonsense he spoke.

“Five—five weeks?! No that’s not possible, our date was last night!”

“It’s more than possible, sweet morsel. Think about it.”

Bile rose thick and acrid in my throat then, threatening to spill. Memories and time started filtering into my mind, replacing the fog with everything I’d lost. The last puzzle piece clicked into place, confusion all but disappeared and I was left with nothing but the cold, terrifying truth. Pijavica. Vampire. Monster.

I’d fallen into the clutches of a monster.

I did the only thing I could think of; I slapped him as hard as I could and took off through the house, ignoring the sharp pain of a chunk of hair remaining in his hand. My heart pounded in my chest, desperate to be free of this sudden nightmare. I slammed into the front door and grabbed the handle, a strangled sob catching in my throat when it wouldn’t open.

I rattled the door knob, panic consuming every fiber of my being. Suddenly, it wasn’t just my life I was fighting for; apparently there was a life inside of me that needed protecting. The child of a Pijavica that was depending on me to escape, so that he could come back and kill his father. I have to get out. I gave up on the door in anger, spinning around and looking for another way.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

I heard August’s voice again, but he was nowhere to be seen. His voice came louder, penetrating my mind. I have to keep moving.

“It was because of your name; they match your eyes.”

I whimpered at his words, sneaking my head around a corner to survey the living space for some form of an exit.

“Amber has a historical application, you see,” he went on, louder. I dashed over the floor, desperate to be gone from him. Door after door remained locked, and my terror grew with each attempt. Every now and then I could hear August, whether it be a rustle of fabric or the knock of his foot on the wooden floor. The scholar in me knew that it was on purpose, that he was luring his prey, giving chase to his food, and yet my rational mind refused to take charge. I was being led by my flight response, and his jarring monologue wasn’t helping.

“Throughout history, whenever a goddess cried it was typically tears of amber, save for the goddess Freya, who cried gold. You met her in the bedroom.”

His laughter echoed through the dark walls of his lair, and chilled me to my core. It was no longer a beautiful sound, but grating and horrible. I was nothing but a petty human to play with, some toy that he could eat when he tired of me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I came to the last door. Dear God, please let this one open. To my utter relief, the door swung wide and I was met with stairs. Stairs went down, and we were on a cliff. Down was good. Down meant freedom.

I clambered down the steps and flung open the door at the bottom, stumbling into the room and falling to the floor in horror and fear. There in front of me, was nothing but mirrors. A maze of mirrors, each one showing me my trembling features, mocking me, letting me know just how fucked I was. I turned back, intending to go back up the stairs and try another way, but August’s silhouette stood at the top, preventing me from going back into the house. I heard a scream and realized it was my own.

Scrambling off the floor, I took off into the maze, blinded by my tears.

“Each of those girls made it this far you know,” August taunted. I heard the slam of the door and nearly choked as I ran. “You’ll die in this room, just like they did.”

His nonchalance, his continual unconcern about chasing me, his arrogance that he would no doubt catch me made me so angry. I raced from path to path, growing ever more frantic every time I reached a dead end. I didn’t even know if this room had an exit, I just knew I had to keep moving. I tripped over something as I rounded a corner, screaming when I saw what it was.

“I see you found Bridgette,” August chuckled, and I looked up from the skeleton to see his hideous face marred with a sinful sneer. I gasped and took off again, turning this way and that. Hitting another dead end, I doubled back and ran smack into August’s broad torso. He caught me and held me close as I screamed, ripping his shirt from my body. He spun me around, pinning my wrists between my back and his belly, trailing his fingers languidly over my naked frame in an inspection of his handiwork. My jaw was gripped in an iron vice and August forced my gaze to the mirror.

“Do you see what I see?” he mocked. I could only stare in horror, for nothing but my own terrified expression stared back at me.

August had no reflection.

“Out of all the patterns in the world, do you know which tears are my favorite?” August continued to torment. He inhaled my hair deeply, snaking his tongue along the length of my cheek, tasting the stains my tears had left in their wake.

“Fear.”

I heard August growl as I fought against him, his iron grasp caging me against his cool skin, more of the cursed moisture pooling in my eyes. Glassy drops fell, retracing a new path toward my chin but August just kissed them away, shoving me to the floor when my knees buckled of their own accord. He let go of my hands to fidget with his slacks, pulling me back toward him every time I tried to crawl away as a parent would to a petulant child. On the third attempt he snapped my knee, a scream tearing from my throat in my woeful submission to his desire.

Finally free of his clothes, August lifted my hips, lining his rigid cock up against my sweat-soaked folds. He dove into my treasure without care, forcing his way into the depths of my belly, stretching and tearing my walls until he was fully sheathed. Strong arms wrapped around me again, and I felt two sharp points prick the junction of my neck and shoulder. I cried out and thrashed in fierce protest, knowing that small pinch was just a warning of oncoming pain.

August’s teeth punctured my skin easily, shredding muscle and sinew until they hit bone. I howled in pain as I watched blood drip from the wound, a familiar crescent shape joining its brothers on my body. Searing heat shot through my neck with his first draw of thick plasma; the violent removal of blood causing an intense burn that I felt all the way down to my injured leg. August released my neck and I clapped a hand over the fresh wound.

I looked over my shoulder at him; his head was tilted down, mouth still full of my blood; the lack of a reflection behind him unsettling to my senses. August opened his wicked maw slowly, dark scarlet trickling from his lips onto the junction where my hips met his, run through by his sword. He looked up at me with a nasty grin, bloodstained fangs curdling my stomach. I closed my eyes and turned away as he swiped a hand through the mess. His fingers penetrated my core alongside his cock, deaf to my sobbing objections.

“You’d better open your eyes, pet… This needy little cunt is dripping, I’d hate for you to miss it.”

August emphasized his sick joke by grasping my hair, shoving my head to the floor, forcing me to look once more into the polished glass. My desperate wails for mercy were all that kept me grounded as I watched him thrust, my battered hole be stretched beyond capacity. Nothing but empty space plundered my core, crimson air bruising the very place within me that only just last night had been treated with such tenderness and care. Not last night. His slick fingers found my mouth and violated it effortlessly; no amount of pressure I could apply would break through his tough skin.

“God, you look so beautiful.”

August pulled me up and took to my neck with fervor, latching onto the broken sliver of skin like a leech. The more he drank, the weaker I became, until there was no resistance left within me. I could see the color drain from my bloody face, I could see black slowly creep into my vision, but I was powerless to stop it. August was in charge, he held my entire existence in his hands, and he intended to extinguish it. I closed my eyes again, accepting my fate.

I was going to die.

One of my favorite places to visit is a small outdoor cafe, very near the coffee shop where I met Amber. Mmmm. Amber. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of that tantalizing woman.

She lasted so much longer than all the others, you know. I was able to feed off of her nearly three full months as she hung there in my basement, until the last drop of her tantalizing nectar was finally extracted. She smelled of carraway and saffron, tasted of sweet mulled wine, and with the rich, heady, piquancy of her fertile womb seasoning each sinew, every inch of her opulent flesh begged to be consumed. I must admit, I should have dispatched of her sooner, but fascination overtook my curious mind as her own was consumed by insanity.

First it was freedom she asked for, and then death. Sometimes she would beg to speak to her mother one last time. But by the end, she only asked for one thing.

“Please,” she would whisper, “Please… Cover the mirrors. Just cover the mirrors.”

She asked so nicely, but how on earth could I hide such beauty? Her tears were just as rare, you see. They hold a beauty unmatched by any of the others that hang on my walls. I’ve never seen such a fear pattern like hers; it is more exquisite than the dawn of a misty spring day in the countryside, more beautiful than a woman at the height of euphoria. And they way they sparkled against her skin, lustrous tracks that wound down her temples and through her hair, glinting in the mirrors with each slow rotation of her inverted body... well, it was as if I was living among the stars. Adding her ashes to my garden was such a shame.

I sat at that little cafe, eyes closed, viewing the world through my enhanced scent. Each drop of bitter coffee, the pollen of a nearby bee, the oil in the bike chains of two clumsy humans as they rolled past; each note and fragrance alerting me to its owner. A familiar scent reached my nose and I turned my head sharply, focusing on it.

Carraway… Saffron.

I smiled softly, opening my eyes to greet the woman that now sat at my table. The honey irises that had intrigued me all those months ago met mine and I chuckled low.

“Amber.”

Read on AO3.

#august walker #august walker fanfic #august walker fan fiction #august walker fanfiction #august walker fan fic #august walker smut #vampire!august #non-con tw

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laurensprentiss · 3 years

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 1:

Gif credit: @tommyshelbcy

Warnings: Mentions of stalking/blood

Word count: 1363

———

"The end is in the beginning and lies far ahead." - Ralph Ellison

———

"Haley, listen, I'm gonna have to call you back, I'm about to meet with him right now."

"Oh my God, you always do this, Aaron, you promised we-"

"- Yeah, we will, I promise but I really gotta go. Bye." He rushes out in a low voice as he sets the telephone down. He gathers himself, buttoning his suit jacket as he strides confidently towards the steps, butterflies in his stomach.

His first official assignment, and he was determined to make it count. Months of gruelling training, exams and physicals were finally going to allow him to get his foot in the door and get to where he wanted to be. He takes a steadying breath before knocking on the door three times and waiting for the voice inside.

"Yeah. Come in." Barnes lifts his gaze from the paperwork he was engrossed in to beckon Aaron forward. "Take a seat."

"Yes sir, you wanted to see me?" He wrings his hands unconsciously.

He sees the bright eyed agent’s behaviour betraying him and smiles knowingly. “It's alright, no need to be nervous, son. This here's good news for you. In fact, these are your transcripts and reports I'm looking at." He smiles. "You were one of the most promising cadets during your training stint, and the work I've seen from you so far is more than I'd expect from a fairly new recruit."

Hotch lets out a half- breath, half laugh of relief as he lets his shoulders relax. "Thank you, sir. It means a lot coming from you." He smiles almost bashfully, the words ringing unfamiliar in his ears. Praise had always been a foreign concept to him thus far.

"Not so fast, I still need to tell you why I called you in today." He sets his pen down now, looking Hotch in the eyes as he tells him, "your talent hasn't gone unnoticed, which is why I'm assigning you to the personal and home security detail of the US Ambassador of France while he's stateside."

His heart pounds. Barnes' talk of his team and responsibilities feel far away now and Aaron tries to rapidly take in everything that he's saying. This is it. The opportunity he'd been waiting for to prove himself as an agent of the bureau and not just a trainee. Barnes brings him out his mind by asking him if he has any questions and tells him to go meet with his new team. He shakes Barnes' hand and thanks him for the opportunity, before quickly excusing himself.

Barnes interrupts him as he's leaving. He turns to face his superior as he tells him, "I'm trusting you on this one, Hotchner. The Ambassador will explain when you meet him but this one's personal."

"Yes, Sir." He ducks his head out of respect and turns to leave to be briefed with his team.

————

"Alright everybody, you know the drill. Make your introductions, follow protocol and see the Ambassador's staff for your assignments." McCall commands over the comms.

He directs Aaron to take the next left as the SUV's pull into the driveway of the sprawling estate, lined with perfectly groomed grass and trees. As they step out of the cars, the double doors open as your father and his assistants step out. A large man in stature, the Ambassador demands attention but his smile is welcoming - warm, even. Eight agents in total make their way over the man as he walks them through the grand foyer of the home.

Hotch has a strange feeling in his stomach, half excitement, half dread. He feels out of his depth. Small. And he doesn't like that feeling.

Niceties exchanged and introductions made, the Ambassador beckons McCall over to him while the other agents speak with his staff. McCall leans over and tells Aaron to come with him as the three of them step into an office.

"Sir, it's lovely to see you again. This is Agent Hotchner, the one Agent Barnes told you about." McCalls explains. Hotch steps forward to offer your father a firm handshake but still doesn't quite understand what is happening as he looks around confused.

The Ambassador lets out a short laugh. "I take it Barnes didn't quite explain the scope of your duties here. He has a tendency to be quite dramatic."

Hotch shakes his head as he laughs slightly, and explains that he was told he would be informed of his duties once the initial meeting had taken place.

"Well, alongside the standard home and personal security, I have an additional, sort of special request." The Ambassador takes a beat and asks McCall and Aaron to take a seat. "My daughter, she-. She was due to take off to Yale this summer, but it appears that somebody has been following her. And for some time."

He pulls out his desk drawer and takes two Manila folders, placing them in front of McCall and Hotch. "As you can see these photos go back to last summer, outside of my daughter's apartment, the gym, her school." He rubs a hand over his stubbled chin and sighs. "Then came the mysterious packages delivered to her door. Sometimes flowers, her favourite chocolates, jewellery. And then the notes."

The two agents flick through the folder to find photocopies of notes, dotted with specks of blood. Hotch mumbles the last words written on one of the notes. "Watch me earn you."

"That last note was delivered with all of the pictures of my daughter. It's because of this, that I advised my daughter to defer for a year, until we can find this man and asked her to move back home, here with me." He looks tired.

Hotch looks from McCall to the Ambassador and back again in confusion. "Pardon me, Sir, and I mean no disrespect at all, but why me? I'm still fairly new at this, and while I would be honoured to take this on, I just want to make sure that you think I'm the right man for the job."

"Well, I know you've taken the profiling course over at Quantico and you come highly recommended from Barnes." He reassures Hotch. "I have faith in you and McCall. Your job is twofold I suppose, as well as providing a security detail, you'll also be tasked with investigating this whole thing and getting to the bottom of this person's identity. And because of your age, the person who's following my daughter will simply think you're a new friend instead of law enforcement."

It finally sinks in for Hotch now. He nods his agreement slowly and thanks him for the opportunity. There's a knock at the door and the Ambassador calls out for whoever is on the other end to come in.

"Ah speaking of my daughter, here she is!" He stands up with a smile. McCall and Hotch turn to face you as you walk into the room and close the door behind you. you feel a pair of eyes following you as you do. The agents both stand as your father makes his way over to you to hug you. "We were just talking about you sweetheart." He tells you as he places a kiss on your temple.

"All good things, I hope!" You tease as you step forward to shake their hands and introduce yourself. You shake Agent Hotchner's hand as he towers over you, holding your gaze, your hand small in his. "Call me Aaron. Or Hotch, whichever works." He chuckles.

You smile as you share a moment but he looks down quickly and lets go of your hand. He's handsome, you think. He stands at 6'2 with broad shoulders and chest, dressed in a suit and tie and his slight beard and fluffy hair gives him a rugged look. His cheekbones and jawline are sharp and he has a disarming smile.

"These are the agents I told you about, honey. They'll be accompanying you while we get to the bottom of this." Your father says.

"Yes ma'am, rest assured we will do everything we can to catch this man." Hotch says as he looks into your eyes, his gaze flickering to your lips for a quick second before looking away.

This should be interesting, you think.

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#hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch smut #Hotch fluff #aaron hotchner #Aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #cm fic rec #cm fanfic

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touyota · 3 years

Text

Catfish

☁ Summary: Tomura is hopeless when it comes to relationships, and soon that’s all subject to change. With the power of Tinder, Touya and one oblivious chick on his side, who knows what can happen.

A/N: omgggg, i’ve lurked on my priv for the past year and finally decided to stop being a narc and post something. i haven’t written in forever and it shows lmao, but uh yeah pls give me feedback if you’d like. (also idk if this has been. done before, but sorryyy if it has)

☁ Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader

☁ Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, manipulation, dumbfication (if you squint), slapping, yandere, catfishing

"Fuck I'm horny."

Tomura groaned into his pillow, conflicted with whether he should be agitated or turned on. Due to his third nap of the day being interrupted by the excessive lewd noises coming from the shared living room. Tomura's roommate, Touya, had no real understanding of boundaries and was often more bothersome than helpful. Still, without his portion of the rent, he'd be on the streets struggling to find an apartment within his meager budget.

"Keep fucking me, Touya-san!" The plea echoed through the thin walls of the shoddy apartment. At least someone was getting laid. The last time Tomura had gotten lucky was at an impromptu Halloween party thrown by Touya at the apartment.

He went as Jason Vorhees using a dingy hockey mask he found in Touya's closet. The poor girl in question, who came dressed as an angel, was drunk out of her mind. She clung to Tomura's scrawny body incoherently, slurring about "How hot it would be to fuck a murderer." The fling hadn't lasted long before the young lady in question toppled over the side of his bed and hurled her entire cup of jungle juice onto the floor. Poor Tomura had to spend his night nursing her head over the toilet. Making a mental note to tell Touya that he couldn't invite any freshmen to their parties ever again.

Tomura ended up seeing her again in passing on campus, giving a small smile as she walked by. Only to be met with an eye roll as she turned to walk in the opposite direction. Fucking bitch... Other than that, Tomura had found himself too busy writing code, playing video games, and browsing Reddit to dedicate any time to dating. The polar opposite of his roomie Touya-san, a communications major whose schedule consisted of dating? If you considered fucking the same chick for a week before ghosting her dating, sleeping, and eating and drinking Tomura out of a house and home.

"You ready for my load? You're my little cum dump, right? Say you're my cum du-"

Speaking of fucking, Tomura's hard-on was starting to hurt, and what better way to relieve himself than to beat off to the action in the adjacent room.

He started to palm himself over his sweats, erection already beginning to poke through. Figuring that he's teased himself enough, he lowered his boxers, allowing his cock to slap against his stomach, throbbing and angry. He slowly stroked himself, gathering the pre-cum spouting from the tip, and used it to lube the rest of his cock.

"Pleaseee fuck! I'm your little cum dump! I swear Touya!"

Tomura started to stroke his cock faster, leaving a squelching noise with each stroke. He was barely managing to suppress his moans. Knowing how Touya wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he got caught fucking his hand to the sounds of their subtle lovemaking.

"Fuckfuckfuck... I'm cumming!" Touya grunted, giving out after his final stroke.

Tomura followed suit, flicking his wrist with each stroke. As his orgasm finally took hold of him, biting into his shirt to stifle his moan as he came all over his fist.

"Are you fucking serious, Touya?"

"What?"

"I didn't get to cum?"

"Um… I'm sure you can take care of that when you get home."

"You're such a piece of sh-"

Tomura tuned out the rest of his roommate's performance. Really hoping he'd wrap it up cause he really needed to take a piss and couldn't make it to the bathroom without passing through the living room.

After hearing a respectable amount of silence, he figured it was safe to leave the room. Of course, he was wrong; he was met with a staredown between Touya and a petite blonde woman.

"I'm sure your roommate Tenko wouldn't leave a lady hanging like that."

"It's Tomura," he muttered.

"Same fucking thing, my point still stands," The mystery woman huffed. There was a pregnant pause before Touya doubled over in laughter, clutching his chest.

"You think this cuck knows how to take care of a lady? Yeah, it's time to go, Tara."

"It's Toga, you shit stai-"her statement was abruptly interrupted, the door slamming in her face. Touya's back slid down against the door as he sat facing Tomura.

"Chicks? Am I right?" Touya sighed, peering over at Tomura, who had just left the bathroom. "Speaking of chicks, when's the last time you had sex, Shiggy?"

"It's been... a while." Tomura shrugged, not wanting to indulge his roommate with the details of his sex life.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? Let's make you a Tinder." Touya proudly announced, excited at the prospect of playing matchmaker for his roommate. Tomura reluctantly gave in, knowing once Touya was set on something, it was bound to happen one way or another.

Two blunts later, Tomura and Touya were strewn over the couch, mulling over his profile's final details. It consisted of three pics, one from the Halloween party, another from their most recent function. The last pic is a selfie of him in a black hoodie with sunglasses on. The icing on top is the bio that unironically stated, "Freak in the sheets, gamer in the streets."

"You're gonna be a real pussy magnet shiggy. Just wait, you'll have to fight the chicks off with a stick after they see this." Touya chuckled as he took another puff of the blunt.

"Go to hell and stop hogging; you didn't put shit in on this anyways," Tomura muttered as he snatched the blunt away to take a pull. Maybe he would find some success, he entertained the concept of having a consistent fuck buddy, but sometimes he was lonely and just wanted someone to lay up with. He wanted to be optimistic about something for once, taking his final pull and ashing the blunt out. The smoky haze and intoxicating scent lulling him to sleep.

Fuck optimism, Tomura thought. It had been three days with zero matches or messages, and he was starting to think there had to be a glitch in the system. The only time he had seen a match is when he accidentally swiped on Midnight's profile, a famous Only fans content creator who specialized in BDSM. The same Midnight that he happened to be a top donor for and occasionally bought panties from, but that's beside the point. The profile was poorly made with blurry, uncropped pics taken straight from her social media profiles. The lack of detail and legitimacy was apparent. Tomura felt terrible for the poor soul who probably fell for it, but it made him think…

Why not see how different the response would be if he ran a profile under someone else's guise. Someone more attractive, someone more affluent, and someone more famous. This was simply a social experiment; no harm would come from it of course. He would simply ghost anyone who wanted to meet, keeping all interactions virtual. Now who could he possibly pretend to be. without getting caught. Tomura's eyes finally settled on an Axe ad playing on tv featuring male model Keigo Takami. Mr. tall, blonde, and handsome would definitely attract the feminine masses.

Ding ding ding, it was like a bell went off in his head; he had found his new look. He started to scour the internet for any pictures of Hawks that weren't already posted to his socials and be sure to crop any evidence out. A few hours later, Tomura gazed over his final product. He thought it seemed too good to be true; he was sure that anyone with a working brain would know the profile was clearly a catfish. It was too clean, too pristine, and too perfect, but Tomura was tired of the profile's nit-picking details and saved his last changes. It was starting to get dark, and he had to begin his Comp Sci homework soon so he'd have time to play zombies on Call of Duty later.

Tomura woke to a multitude of buzzes notifying him of the several hundred matches he'd accumulated overnight on his Hawks profile. Apparently, no one had a working brain within the 15-mile radius. The messages were filled with tons of chicks he had seen on campus or in class. He even recognized the one from the Halloween party. He spent his morning smoke break, siphoning through the various contenders.

Too tall.

Too blonde.

Too ugly.

Until...

He finally stopped scrolling when he reached your profile; he had seen you before in his Major classes. You were a somewhat modest girl, always working to be an overachiever and teacher's pet. You hadn't spoken to him before, only forcing a smile when Tomura was caught staring at you in class. You were talented, beautiful, quiet, and you hadn't encountered Touya yet. You were everything he had wanted, and more. He started to type a message awaiting your response.

Keigo: "What's keeping you up this late, love ;)"

Tomura thought to keep it casual enough to fit his suave persona.

Y/N: "lol, just sum late night studying keeping me up."

Y/N: "won't lie im very nervous to texting you rn, i'm a big fan

Keigo: "it's gud knowing i have fans as cute as you ;p"

The conversation seemed to flow from there between you two, texting for almost two weeks strong. Tomura had learned so much about you in a short time, your favorite foods, your favorite color, favorite music, and your dislikes as well. Touya often came by his room to check in on Operation: Get Shiggy Some Pussy, only to be met with a "Fuck off," and yet another door slammed in his face.

You gushed over how lucky you were to be texting the one and only Keigo Takami. Of course, you were skeptical at first, but what kind of fucked up person would take the time to pretend to be another person? The conversation between you two was great and always kept you on your toes. Still, sometimes days would pass before you received a response; you chalked it to the fact that he was always busy as a celebrity and didn't always have time to respond to you.

You were currently lying in bed and unable to fall asleep; you peered at your phone to see that it was 2:05 am. You let out a sigh, preparing to stare at your ceiling until you finally fell asleep, only to be interrupted by a chime from your phone. It was a message from Keigo.

Keigo: you up? ;(

You instantly typed a response, scared that you had done something wrong.

Y/N: yup, what's wrong…?

Keigo: i'm so fucking hard rn baby ;(((

Oh shit, you hadn't prepared yourself for that response; maybe he injured himself at work or-

Keigo: you still there babe? send a pic ;p

You definitely hadn't prepared for that, but who were you to deny him. Keigo could've asked anyone else in the world, but he asked you. Not wanting to leave him waiting, you quickly shucked your shirt off and used your arm to push up your breasts, giving an illusion of the perfect push up bra. You promptly took several pics, taking the time to edit and select the ideal filters to complement your skin tone.

Y/N: 1 image sent

A bubble indicating him typing popped up instantly

Keigo: 3 images sent

Keigo: fuckkkk babe, ur such a tease

You opened the pics, feeling your panties dampen slightly. It was a cock, well Keigo's cock, fat and engorged, leaking pre-cum against his toned belly. He was mostly well-groomed, but a prominent white tuft of hair appears in the picture, making you wonder if Keigo was actually a natural blonde.

Keigo: 1 video sent

let me see that pretty pussy baby,

It was a video of Keigo languidly stroking his cock, how romantic. It was only right for a gorgeous man like Keigo to have a pretty cock to match. What he lacked in girth was definitely made up for in length, complemented with a slight curve that could definitely reach that itch that none of your toys could scratch. By now, you had ditched your panties and started to slowly start to fuck yourself open with one finger at a time. You started recording and angled the phone against your pillow, trying to capture you desperately fucking yourself on your fingers, letting out a small whimper with each thrust.

Y/N: 1 video sent

You began to fuck yourself vigorously, dragging the accumulated slick over your clit with slow, circular strokes. You felt your orgasm on the brink, growing more restless and desperate, humping reverently at your fingers, whimpering desperately; you were so close...There was a sudden surge of fluid from your core, incoherent mumbles leaving your mouth as you kept carefully fucked yourself through your climax. The post-orgasm bliss lulling you to sleep, your eyes had finally fluttered shut, only to be awakened by another chime.

Keigo: 1 image sent

look @ all that cum baby, its all for you ;)

Y/N: when can we meet? my fingers can only work for so long :p

Read: 2:53 am

Aw man, maybe he fell asleep. You were definitely fighting sleep at this point as well, finally closing your eyes, satisfied for the night.

Tomura struggled to catch his breath, reaching for his discarded shirt to wipe the sticky cum off of his stomach. That was the third time this month you'd ask about a meeting, and it was frankly starting to piss him off. He'd have to come up with something fast if he wanted to keep you around. Even though he didn't have much of a moral compass left in his body, the feeling of guilt was hard to ignore. You didn't deserve to be roped into his fucked up social experiment…

A yawn interrupted Tomura's guilty thoughts. He could continue to feel guilty when he wakes up tomorrow.

The following week your prayers had been answered, Keigo finally agreed to meet! It had been such a bittersweet feeling. What if he thought you looked nothing like your profile pictures? Would he reject you and run the other way, screaming? You tried to push your doubtful feelings down by distracting yourself with running errands. Finding the perfect outfit to wear, getting every inch of your body waxed, and picking up a lacy red lingerie set.

Upon getting back to your apartment, you found a red bouquet of roses on the doormat. They were clearly store-bought and not of excellent quality… but it's the thought that counts!

Lots of celebrities were frugal, and of course, Keigo was no different. After further inspection, a small white card with an address and time. You searched the address finding a mid-grade hotel on the outskirts of the city. Keigo was definitely a (cheap) frugal man dedicated to his discretion. Soon realizing that the time on the card was approaching, you quickly ran to shower and primp yourself for the evening. Not even thinking to question how he found your address in the first place...

You had finally arrived at the sketchy hotel, noting that there were little to no cars in the parking lot and noting that none of them looked like they belonged to Keigo. You wandered through the lobby until you finally reached the elevator, tapping the button for the 5th floor. You tried to shake off your pre-meeting jitters, you already knew everything would be fine, but you couldn't shake the feeling of something wrong...

Those intrusive thoughts were soon interrupted by the chime that indicated you had reached your floor. You took a deep breath as you stepped off the elevator, pacing yourself as you walked to your destination.

Room 555

How fitting, you thought. Your knuckles rasped against the door several times.

"Come in." A voice sounded through the door.

You peeked your head around the door before taking a step in the room, not being able to locate the owner of the voice. You gasped after taking the appearance of the room. The room had rose petals haphazardly strewn across the floor. Candles flickered on the dresser, a bubble bath was run in the bathroom, and to top it off, a too cheap bottle of champagne on ice.

There was clearly an effort made, which made your heart swoon, hoping to put a real face to the man you've been speaking to for the past few months, you said out into the empty room.

"Keigo, I like what you've done with the place. You can come out now," you giggled.

"I'm glad you got the flowers," a raspy voice responded.

.......Huh?

Your joy instantly crushed, having heard Keigo's voice multiple times in the interviews you've seen, it sounded nothing like that. Unless he'd suddenly started chain-smoking within the past few months. A loud alarm started going off in your head. It was definitely time to go.

You twirled on your heels and reached for the doorknob, only to be stopped by a hand gripping your upper arm.

"Leaving so soon? The bathwater is still warm…" The mystery voice informed.

"Oh… I think I have the wrong room, so sorry about that." You squeaked, attempting to reach the door again only to be dragged into a bony chest.

Your chin was tilted, forcing you to meet eyes with "Keigo." Who was actually a porcelain-skinned tower of a man with shaggy white hair that had an oddly familiar look to him?

"Let me go! You're not Keigo!" You screamed, hoping to alert any other guests on the floor.

"Fucking took you long enough. I thought you were smarter than those other bitches on campus. Tomura balked, struggling to keep you still in his grasp.

Campus. That's where you recognized the face and voice of your captor, you were both in the same Comp Sci class, and you'd often caught him staring as you worked, chalking it up to you having something on your face or in your teeth. The realization caused tears to spurt from your eyes.

"Poor baby, didn't mommy and daddy teach you to not speak to strangers on the internet?"

"I-I thought y-you were K-Keigo," you gasped, struggling to control your sobs.

"Well, I'm not. Get over it." Tomura slurred, placing sloppy kisses over your collar bone, slowly backing you towards the bed.

You couldn't bring yourself to move or fight anymore, body stiff with fear. Your sobs increase in volume after feeling your legs make contact with the edge of the bed. You didn't know this man from a can of paint, and here he is about to assault you.

"Stop crying before I leak those sexy little videos you shared with "Keigo." Imagine if everyone in the class knew how much of an easy slut you are?" Tomura hissed, shoving you unto the stiff mattress, springs squeaking as you bounced.

You cradled your mouth, struggling to stifle your sobs. Why hadn't you recognized the signs sooner? You spent so much time looking at the situation through rose-colored lenses that you had utterly neglected your safety. But it wasn't the time to feign sympathy for yourself. You needed to take action, and soon—the shaggy haired stranger dragging your motionless body towards the end of the headboard.

"Wait!" You gasped, hoping that you could possibly reason with your captor.

"What's your name?

This was your final chance to escape. You suddenly kicked forward, aiming for his face, failing miserably as it was blocked. Both legs were then shoved into a mating press, granting Tomura the space to press himself even closer to you.

A groan left Tomura's mouth, frotting against your clothed mound, smothering your neck with sloppy saliva drenched kisses. You cowered at the feeling, curling away from his advances. The dry humping continued until a final groan of desperation was released. He was too grown for this shit and didn't feel like going home with stained boxers when your sweet heat was right in front of him.

The red bodycon dress you decided on was shredded down the middle, leaving you in your lingerie set. You added that to the list of things you were already regretting, moving to cover yourself the best you could. Your efforts to preserve the crumb of modesty you had left were futile, both hands knocked out of the way.

"You don't have to hide princess, I think Christmas came early.” “You're wrapped so pretty, baby." He chuckled, moving to fondle your breasts. Taking the time to pinch and pull at both nipples, drawing small hesitant gasps.

"I'll play with these more later. You don't know how long I've waited to play with that cute little pussy in person." You felt your panties tugged to the side, embarrassed with the amount of arousal accumulated below. The feeling was soon replaced with horror after feeling the tip of his cock dragged between your slit.

Tomura used the residual slick to grease his cock, bypassing the need to stretch you out. He pressed forward, forcing himself inside, pausing to catch his breath. Damn... it's been a long time.

You yelped in pain, closing your eyes in hopes of blocking out the situation at hand. You felt him start to pick up his pace, causing small tinges of pain to course through your body.

"Mmmm, open your eyes. I want you to watch me fuck you." He gasped, realizing you hadn't complied yet, he landed a firm slap on your cheek. "Not only are you dumb, but you're also deaf too… open. SMACK your. SMACK fucking. SMACK eyes."

Your eyes shot open, brimming with tears, finding yourself face to face with your captor. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, dainty white lashes framing the lids, traces of dry patches on his face. He wasn't ugly. You'd honestly give him a chance if he asked you out like a decent human being.

His pace had gained traction, hips crashing against yours. You found yourself slowly succumbing to the pleasure, discreetly fucking yourself against him. You wanted to protest and resist against him, but with your inhibitions lowered, you found it hard to comply. Each thrust pulling you further into the abyss that was your impending orgasm. Your lust-filled thoughts being interrupted by the stranger's incoherent mumbling.

"Tomura."

"Huh?" you whimpered, not fully understanding what he said.

"My name is Tomura."

"Okay and mine i-"

"Shut up and say my name." Tomura's thrusts were sporadic, signaling his impending climax. "Beg me to cum…... please."

You barely registered the final demand, not recognizing the soft tone of his voice.

"T-tomura, p-please let me cum!" you begged, right on edge needing something, anything to push you over.

Two nimble, callused fingers drew delicate circles over your clit, forcing you to writhe and sob as your orgasm coursed through your body. The feeling that followed was one of warmth as Tomura came, slowing his thrusts until he collapsed, encasing you in his arms.

Your eyes fluttered shut with your post-orgasm haze lulling you to sleep until a wet, sticky substance trickled along your inner thigh...

What the fuck....

You nearly launched yourself from the bed, fighting to separate yourself from your captor's arms.

"What is wrong with you?"

"You didn't use a condom," you wailed, tears perched at the corner of your eyes. You didn't have the time for a child, you were doing great in classes, your parents would reject you, you'd be stuck playing house with some stranger and-

"Stop muttering. You're fucking up my nap. I'll buy a Plan B when I wake up." Tomura mumbled into the pillow, dragging you back into his chest.

You continued to fight his grasp, pausing after feeling a firm pinch to your side. Fighting was futile at this point, and you couldn't fully assess the situation until you had some decent sleep.

Closing your eyes for a few seconds wouldn't hurt…right?

#bnha x reader #yandere bnha #bnha smut #shiggy x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha x y/n #tw: noncon #tw: manipulation #tw: slapping #tw: dumbification

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