#number obsessed lil shit

[thebus1boys]

this man needs to be stopped 🔪🔪🔪

[rubys-domain]

i might be terrible for feeling like this. but the sheer amount of schadenfreude i have after finding out that freminet is likely going to be a shit unit is through the roof lmao

[famderfries]

hiiiiiiii babes

HEYYYYYYYYYDBSBDHGSDHGDBD

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

The idler wheel is wiser than the driver of the screw.

Quick summary: After one too many drinks, you find yourself unable to think of anything but a certain smart-mouth detective who is in desperate need of a release.

Word count: 11K (I'm sorry)

Warnings: This is basically just SMUTT with a lil feelings (if you squint) sprinkled in there; kind of angsty at points (mentions of canon-typical death and violence (hellooo they're homicide detectives); gets a bit existential at points, watch out; pretentious.

A/N: YAY! I had this obsession with True Detective S1 all throughout October (watched it at my nan's house lmao), so enjoy the lovechild of that. This is just for fun, so, please, nobody be angry at me if they don't agree with Rust's characterisation, or any of the weird philosophical chat, lalallalal, OKAY ENJOY!!

***

The night air is sluggish and humid with the remnants of a warm summer’s rain, pressing down thickly, close, clogging, simmering just below the surface.

A few times, I’ve interviewed people who live in these sorts of places: motel-types, the “in-between”, where folks stay when they’ve either got no money, no choice or nobody. Other residents include passers-by who’re looking to save money on accommodation, skipping on the fancier places. Not that Louisiana really has any “fancier places”. Places without the paint peeling off walls like dead skin, I guess. A bed and breakfast in the nicer suburbia, with a view overlooking a subpar daydream of a ghost town centre. 

I’ve leaned up against the crooked, metal railing, felt the influence of my weight almost sending it and myself crashing down onto the faded parking lot beneath. I’ve leaned up there—after knocking—and waited, waited for a grey face to peer through a crack in the cracked door. I’ve smiled and remarked about how the beat-up, brass numbers up there are hanging by a thread. Sometimes, people are real stingy – they slink out and close the door behind them, or they remain in that little slit, just an eye visible, or they plain shut it in my face. Most let me in right away, maybe a little intimidated by the shiny badge clipped up in my jacket – I’ve sat across from ‘em, felt that mud in the room’s air seep into my pores, inviting me under its still swamp. 

Seems like the sort of place for him.

Too many a fuckin’ time, Marty’s come grumbling and muttering into the office kitchen, rolling his eyes, scoffing, huffing, the whole lot. And when I ask him why the strop?—“Ancient fuckin’ philosopher fuckin’ Rust Cohle on it again. Birthday’s comin’ up: get me earplugs and a generous bit o’ duct tape for my dear partner over there, would you?” 

Or somethin’ along those lines. 

For all his apparent talk about us silly, little “biological puppets”, this seems like Rust’s sort of place. Temporary existence, temporary living. Purgatory?

Whatever.

If you ask me, Rust Cohle’s head is so far up his own ass that it’s no wonder his outlook on life is so dark. 

If I was more sober, maybe I’d be thinking about it—about him—less—but this night out has had me so drunk I was maybe even hallucinating at some point. Rust?—sure, he’s been in the back of my mind for some part of the last few months – I have to see him most days I go to work, don’t I? – but, sometime in the space between my third and fourth shot of straight vodka, he was suddenly at the very front of it. I’d seen a guy who smoked like him: cigarette pinched between his thumb and forefinger, a simple, deep drag. I’d thought it was him, but then I realised his face was shrouded in the smoke that he’d exhaled, and I recalled that Rust never seems to do that. Never seems to exhale. All the tar and shit stays in. 

With a twist of my keys, the engine rumbles off into more-or-less silence. Fuck, it’s a bad idea, yes, just being here. If he likes to keep his distance, well—he’s entitled to that choice. 

I glance over my shoulder, out the window, out at the complex which is all yellow and shining, illuminated by buzzing halogen light bars and, of course, the occasional bug zapper. It’s clean enough. The lines of this parking space were white enough. Apartment 11A, said Marty. Second floor. 

“Are you drunk?” he’d asked – Marty, not Rust.

I’d replied, “No,” pressing closer to the phone box in attempts to remove myself from the swarm and bustle of the ladies’ bathroom. And it was an honest reply. Sort of. Despite his scepticism, by that time, I’d long stopped drinking, and all that remained from it was a sort of numb tingle in my fingertips—as far as I was concerned. 

I don’t think I’d be in this parking lot, stepping out of my car, if I wasn’t still a little bit gone. 

Marty’s sigh had crackled through the receiver. “Don’t bring any o’ tha’ party-this-party-that attitude to ‘im, alright? He’ll hate it.” I’d told him okay, my stomach spiking up with excitement. “Fact is, I don’t think you should go at all. ‘f you do, should be a work matter. This a work matter, detective?”

I’d lied, said yes, perhaps with a slur to my voice. 

He clicked his tongue. “Okay, buck, whatever you say.” Then, he’d hung up. 

There was something disapproving in the manner of the conversation. I got the feeling that he was talking to me in the same voice he used to lecture his daughters. The only reason I’d called him was to get something from him, sure, so that I could basically get something from Rust, his partner. I could see how that sort of thing might’ve upset someone. Not that Marty Hart should have any right to judge, not when he’s coming into work in the same clothes as the day before, stinking of sweat and God knows what. The unsaid agreement of everyone in the office is to turn a blind eye. I’ve met his wife. Someone should cut off his damn dick. 

Quiet, now. Hell, who am I to talk? Marty’s fun to chat with, makes a slow day at the office a little brighter. ‘Course, there’s rarely a slow day at the office.

And I’m at the top of the stairs, now. And I knock—one, two, three—on the pilling, forest-green door. Dulled down 11A. Blinds are determinedly shut, slats flat. For a second, I think maybe I’ll be waking him.

Then I remember Rust doesn’t sleep. 

A grey face appears as the door swings just a little ways open, grave and sunken-tired. His expression isn’t so pissed-off as it is just his usual expression. 

“Rusty,” I say to him with a small nod, words scraping out dryly. 

He doesn’t respond right away – ‘stead, he leans his body out partway, eyes absent like he’s searching for some hooligan criminal in the night.

“Marty told you my address?” he asks lowly. It’s more a statement than anything, but I amuse him with a nod anyways. There’s a cigarette flaring up between his fingers. His hand twitches a little like he’s wanting to take a drag, but his eyes are fixed on my shoes, now, like he’s still coming to terms with the fact I’m a foreign body in his domain. 

My toes curl up tight in my shoes – there’s that prick of anticipation again. Ice-cold, you could easily mistake it as dread. 

Rust doesn’t exactly subject me to an imploring look—not really his style—but he bows his head down just slightly – that’s sign enough for me. He wants to know why I’m here, and he no doubt wants to know the quickest way to be rid of me. 

I sigh. I ask him.

My body trembles, and he notices it, records it, stores it away for later reference, for some other time he’ll find that it and me will contribute to his purpose. 

Rust has a face of stone. I get to know it well as I search for a sign there that might let me know what lies beneath. But, of course, a statue is solid through and through. Sharp angles and smooth planes carved hollow. If he’s cold to the touch, I’d like to reach out and be sure. Is he cold where a man ought to be warm? Christ, it makes my pulse jump just to think about it. 

There is no greater purpose or cruel intention underlying my words, as far as I’m concerned. Rust, however, lingers there, with his arm up on the door, barricading the entrance, while he peels back and flits over every layer of possible meaning, his attention fixed absently on my left ear.

He then looks at me—briefly—in the eyes, with a sort of paralysing intensity. Even the tingling in my fingers ceases to be. 

It takes a moment, pregnant with the chorus of cicadas, crickets and other night-creatures, before he steps back neatly to allow me in.

The door clicks softly behind me as I enter into a room that’s bare as bare can be.  

Rust grunts, coming up around me and into the kitchen area. “Want anything?” he mumbles around his cigarette, other hand shoved in his pocket. He’s still half-dressed in his work clothes, his tie strewn on the counter, his blazer slumped over a rickety picnic chair perched up in front of a wall of crime scenes and dead bodies. My eyes linger there—how can they not?

“A beer,” I tell him, still looking at those photographs, then at the stacks upon stacks of books. Philosophy, ethics, religion. Names I’d expect only those with PhDs to know.  

“Don’t think you’ve had ‘nuff to drink already?”  

I shoot him a look. “I think I can handle it, Rust.” He straightens up, raises his brow. I snort, reasoning, “I’ll only have one.”

“One,” he agrees, opening up the fridge and having a rummage around.  

White walls and all of them empty, like some sort of psych ward. Half-sure Rust actually did do some time in that type of care, though, so—shouldn’t make any quips about that. I don’t want him thinking I think he’s crazy – he gets enough of that, I’m sure.   

Back at my place, though, I’ve got posters or drawings or paintings up around every corner. My niece’s drawing of a mermaid sits on my dresser, and photographs of my family are displayed in the hallway. One up by the TV, I painted myself when I was in high school. About two years after I graduated, they asked if I wanted my portfolio back, and I’d obviously said yes. And I love my stuff! Some ‘cause it’s pretty, others because of memories and whatnot. Guess some people don’t have that creative trait, or they lose it. Or maybe they detest the sentiments, those strings that have been, are and will be attached to things. When my cousin broke up with her boyfriend, she cut her hair and burned his clothes. “I just want to forget him,” she’d snarled. I’d sputtered a laugh into my tea.

Rust plants a Corona down on the counter, already cracked open.

There’s no mirror in here either – I can’t check whether I look as desperate as I feel. When I focus back on him, Rust is taking a swig from his own beer, turning to glance at the crucifix pinned above the messy mattress on the floor. Huh. Didn’t peg him as a Christian.

His honey-blond hair doesn’t look cold to the touch, that’s for sure ‘n’ certain. Wonder if he just wakes up like that or what. Once, Marty had been teasing him at work, even cracking a smile out of the old guy. “Ain’t them just the prettiest curls y’ever seen, buck?” he’d remarked, nudging into me, cooing at him. Silently, in my head, even then, I’d agreed: prettiest curls I’d ever seen. Rust hadn’t looked up to chart my reaction, but, if he had, he’d maybe have seen my fidgeting fingers or hitch of breath. Or maybe he felt it, heard it. 

“Sorry to barge in on you like this,” I offer pathetically through a nervous smile. 

He blinks, takes another swig, leaning over the counter that separates us. “No, y’aint.”

Jesus, I have to turn my head and shut my eyes for a second. I don’t particularly believe in God, but I ask Him to please give me the strength to resist my urges and act like a normal damn person for at least a few more minutes. And then I apologise for only praying out of convenience. In the face of temptation. This is why people shouldn’t drink – still, doesn’t stop me from downing a good part of my beer.

I turn to the wall and try to turn myself off a little bit. It’s not hard – Rust still has Dora Lange (rest her soul) pinned up on his wall, naked, blue, stiff. I don’t want to know why, so I don’t ask him. 

His eyes are adamant on the side of my head. Funny how he never seems to look at me at the same time I’m looking at him. Pisses me off a lot of the time – not just him, but in general. A lot of people share this same fear of not being heard, not being listened to and not being cared about. Men in particular, I’ve noticed, have a tendency to raise their voice over others’, to yell or shout or hit things or push ‘n’ shove. Marty’s that way – a lot of men at the precinct are, too. Women who are raised to be the listeners sometimes act out in the same way, frustrated at all the things they have to care about that men don’t, burdened with manners and politeness. I used to hate having to listen, to wait for the man who interrupted me to finish speaking. Rust always lets people finish their point, for better and for worse. Pisses me off in a different type of way. I can feel his judgement seeping out of him, so potent that’s it’s tangible, lapping at my feet.

He doesn’t push and shove – he’s a listener, too. Of course, he has that male privilege where his silence has a gravity, a magnetic pull, where mine is simply as is. At least he pays attention. Sure, on the surface, it might look like he doesn’t care at all, hunched over a case file at his desk, back turned to me and the rest of the lot, but proximity has its power – assigned workspaces put with his personality, and he knows what’s like and unlike me better than my sister. He’s reading into my refusal to talk, to face him – unlike me.

“So, you’ve given this some thought, then,” Rust says matter-of-factly, and my tummy bubbles up.

I snicker nervously, heart racing. God, I’d expected surprise, disbelief, outright refusal, maybe even a little disgust, but, when I manage to turn around and look at his face again, it just seems to me like a calmness. Stoicism found in the affirmation, maybe, of his expectations. It’s like I’m walking right into one of those little theories of his: a proved hypothesis.

I take another sip from my beer, feeling too shy for my liking. “Well, yeah,” I drawl, slumping over the kitchen counter and propping my chin up to look right back at him in a surge of liquid confidence. “I always think ‘fore I do anything that’s anything, Rust.”

Almost immediately, he retreats, standing up straight and resting the small of his back against the lip of the sink behind him. He hums, glances away. “We both know that’s a lie,” he combats, hands tucked into his pockets, chin tilted up, eyes down. A mouthful of beer numbs the sting of rejection. “What you mean is you think you can justify all your decisions. You think you can justify why you knocked on my door and said what you said—” he elaborates quietly, eliciting a snort from me, “—but, at the end o’ the day, all your decisions boil down to what you feel is right, not what is right.”

“‘n' you think you ‘n’ you alone know what’s right?”

Slate-grey eyes flit up and down my face, like I’m a specimen on a slide.

“I think that the girl who’s stumbled up on a fella’s door asking him to fuck her is less inclined to know, without bias, what’s right, yes.”

I swallow thickly, sucking the remaining flavour of beer off of my tongue before going in for another swig.

Christ.

Not a single bat of his eyes. Not a quiver of his mouth, not a twitch to his nose, not a morsel of natural, human hesitation. Does he have to be so crass? I did the courtesy of making it palatable, at least to my own ears, with a euphemism. But when have I ever known Rust Cohle to water anything down? No drink I’ve ever consumed will match his body’s preference of alcohol content. He’s nursing his beer close to his chest, but who knows what poisons lay dormant in these cabinets?

“Rusty,” I say lowly, maybe asking for a break – I close my eyes for just a second, part because I couldn’t bear it if I caught some sort of disapproval on his face, and part because it’s just past two o’clock in the morning.

Late nights have consumed my life recently, what with that sicko rapist connected to a Christian fertility cult. Children of God – “go forth and multiply”. His confession had turned my blood cold. Johansson had offered to sit in the box instead, but I did it anyway. I went home and cried over it, then came into work the next day to talk to some press and then receive my new assignment.

He hums, taking a drag from his cigarette, swallowing the smoke down. Rust knows how it is. To be honest, I’m probably the one who doesn’t know the half of it. One night at the office, he’d casually confessed to his insomnia, like he was just commenting on the state of the weather ‘n’ nothin’ else. So, I guess I won’t pretend to get it.

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. “Are you into that whole abstinence thing?”

The weak light above flickers gently as he pauses, turns the question over in his mind. Anyone else would’ve surely laughed.

“I believe that man is susceptible to desire, yes—but he can resist it and its consequences should his willpower be stronger than the false promises posed by that temptation.

I snort again, because, now, I really am tipsy, and I can’t hold in my attitude any longer. It’s not that I think he’s lost it or whatever. It’s just—he’s so—objectively—absurd. Well—“objectively”. He’s got points, but those points lose all meaning in the spiralling darkness of overthought and deep contemplation wherein he’ll explain that everything really means nothing—and he’ll be right about that, sure, but also unintentionally prove a point about himself. I’d ask him what it means when, in a world where everything means nothing, a child will give their friend a flower found on the way to school, but I feel like his answer would be too morbid for my liking. Does that make me an unreliable source? The fact that I want to live?

He's absurd. He’s also a little bit awry in the head. Don’t know what he’s lost or what he’s lookin’ for, but it’s not a good look on him. He’s honest, yes – that’s a good trait. But honesty without kindness is cruelty. And he is kind – underneath, he’s kind, and I know that because of how hard he works to weed out evil people in this world, most times at his own risk. That’s kindness, albeit unconventional, whether he realises it or not.

The kindness almost cancels out his arrogance.

“So, what?” I challenge under the guise of a teasing grin. “You can go mouthin’ off for hours on end about how up themselves religious people and all’at are, but you can’t draw the similarities between their philosophy and your philosophy? How does that work, Rust?”

While I was working that Children of God nightmare of a case, he just couldn’t seem to restrain himself – every bullshit word that left him revealed to me his hubris. Now, I’m not angry, and he’s not stupid – we’re not arguing. In fact, he seems intrigued, lean body shifted toward me. He sets his beer down on the counter, crosses his arms over his chest after securing his cigarette between his lips, and lowers his head as if to listen to me better.

I sigh, continue. “D’you know what I think? I think you oversimplify humanity. You’re a great detective—‘nd I guess you know it—and, within the confines of your job, it serves you well, makes you good in the box. But your assumptions are too general. People are who they are, sure, but they also decide to be those people. By their environment and those who surround ‘em, people make the decisions that define ‘em. A lot of the time, their circumstances ain’t fair. People born into badness are trapped by the badness—either physically, or up in their heads—and they have a tough time escapin’ it.”

Rust inhales the smoke again, the only evidence of it happening being the soft whisp that curls away from his nose. I wonder to myself how his lungs are still standing.

“‘s that how you explain that—homicide case you’re workin’ on?” Three-year-old boy died of neglect, his siblings found locked in cabinets, one in a dog cage, by their mother and stepfather. Rust’s eyes flash silver. “Killer had a tough time?”

Asshole.

I narrow my eyes dangerously. “Don’t be mean, Rusty,” I scold, and he blinks in concession. “I think evil exists. I think it’s complicated. I think you summarise things that ought not to be summarised.”

He’s silent for a heartbeat. Then, his hand comes up to pinch away his cigarette, and he waves it in a small flourish, explaining, “When I say “people”, I mean society. Human culture.”

“Last I checked, Rust, you don’t know everybody on the planet. You don’t know their “culture”, or experiences.” That seems to shut him up. My eyes wander to his broad shoulders, trail along the meat of his arms beneath the cheap, polyester shirt that hugs close to the muscle, and they linger there like the quiet that settles between us.

He nods slowly, once. “Our decisions define us?”

I bob my head, unabashedly staring at the elegant column of his throat, his neck, and the stretch of tan skin that is settled beneath the white undershirt revealed by the first one, two, three buttons which have recently been undone.

He’s quieter when he asks me, “Well, how does this decision define you, then?” There’s nothing malicious about the way he says it, or even lustful – just a calm curiosity.

“Ain’t it obvious?” I grin again, laugh a little, blush hotly. “I’m horny!” I hide my face in my shoulder, trying to compose the hiccups of laughter in my stomach. “I’m sorry,” I snicker, wiping my palm over my brow, my eyes. “This probably isn’t very attractive to you.”

“You’re a very pretty girl,” he replies. He mutters my name solemnly, like we’re in a formal meeting or something.

I glance up, check whether he’ll offer me eye contact again, but he doesn’t – he’s staring at the wall, lost.

I scoff. “You’re a very pretty guy, Rust.”

God willing, none of the boys at the precinct will ever find out about this. If Marty lets it slip that I even asked for Rust’s address, then I’ll never hear the end of it. Worse, everyone’ll think I’m dead-gone over him. Guess I don’t really fit the standards expected of women around here: “wife”, or “whore”. Or “dead”. It’s hard enough to be taken seriously going about pretending I’m not interested in sex at all. Once sex comes into the equation, I’ll be reduced to that and nothing else. 

Anxious, I start flicking up under my fingernails. Is Rust already starting to think those things, too? I’m a great detective, but that’s the only capacity in which he’s really known me. 

I wring the neck of my bottle. “I should explain—”

He holds his hand up, stating, “I don’t need you to. Do you feel the need to?” 

Curious, wary, I watch his face, a blank slate. Still waters run deep. My eyes drift down, to where his hands are together in front of him, one relaxed beside him the other curled around his wrist with two fingers resting on the pulse.

“No,” I reply. 

“You thought it over,” he says, eyes tilting up at the ceiling, aloof, bored, maybe. His words are sort of monotone, like he’s reciting a passage from a book that he’s just recently read: “You chose me because you know me. You haven’t been sleeping well. You’re stressed, you’re scared, you’re frustrated.” He blinks. “You’re attracted to me due to some—unfortunate trigger beyond your control in the reptilian part of your brain.” Brief as the flicker of a candle in a still room, he looks over me, brow raised slightly as if daring me to tell him that he’s wrong. He pauses again, takes a short puff. “It makes you think I can take care o’ your needs.”

Look at the state of him: sallow and wilting on the inside. Reducing me down to a sentence or two, and being right about it.

“Well, can you?” I ask weakly, feeling small. He looks over me, blinks blankly. “How do you take care of your needs?” No reply. “You do have needs, don’t you?” I remark, tapping the rim of my bottle to my warm temple. “Programming ‘n’ whatnot.” 

He tilts his head away in dismissal. 

I smile, more to myself than to him. “Beat off in the shower, is it?”

For a second, Rust is still. My eyes grow heavy, admiring the strong profile of his nose. He then nods helplessly, like there’s no point in trying to lie.

I hum, a soft, self-satisfied smirk edging its way onto my face. “Must feel like a sin,” I snicker.  

He squints slightly, like he disagrees with my logic, but does not interrupt to protest. 

“I remember takin’ baths as a teenager and double-checkin’, triple-checkin’ I locked the door,” I confess. “Couldn’t take my time. ‘S that how it is for you, Rust?” I probe, tilting my head to the side, losing his eyes as quickly as I catch them. “You ever let yourself enjoy it? Let yourself want it—?”

“I don’t want it,” he snaps quietly.

“But your programmin’ says you do, right?” I point out, scrambling to hold onto the flaw in his argument. I search his face, my own bright, eager.

He quirks up a miraculous smile, and I myself burst into a wide grin. Still smiling—though, you’d have to admit, it’s such a strange sight, sort of gratifying, almost patronising—he shifts his weight between his feet, scratches at his nose with his pinkie, sniffs, takes a long drag of his dying cigarette. I know he must feel disjointed, though he doesn’t show it: he’s misstepped, and I’ve caught him. And how often does Rust Cohle misstep? I should’ve checked the news for a blue moon tonight. 

Interested, now, is he? Breathing quietly, rolling his jaw – he’s entertaining the competition I have goin’ up in my head. From the looks of the gentle smirk on his face, he’s enjoying it, too. 

“No,” he corrects with a dry husk to his voice. “No, I know what I want, and, when I think those things are necessary or useful, I know how to get them.”

In this type of context, I’d like to see him try. Though, he is an undeniably attractive man. Thick, solid all the way through, like a rich wood. But he’s got these brittle eyes: fraying.

He continues: “Most of the time, though, what we want is born out of dangerous feelings, like rage or lust. Ruminating on the consequences of those potential actions seems to me the more sensible thing to do than to just leave it and find out.” I sniff. “Desire is inescapable for most, including the sexual kind. I feel it—“ he eyes how I wriggle beneath my skin, “—you feel it. But it can be resisted. You’re lettin’ it dictate what you do ‘n’ say. If I do to you what you want me to, have you thought about how it might affect things down the line? Tomorrow, next week, next month—?”

“Yes,” I hiss, a little too emotionally, such that a gleam of satisfaction crosses his grey eyes at the strain and stretch of my voice. Christ. Desperate much?

I take several seconds to think before allowing myself to speak again, all while staring at him straight on and refusing to look away: I’d just die if I let him catch me out. “Well, how can you be sure of the fallout? How do you know the good won’t outweigh the bad? Not “you” specifically, but, also, yeah, “you” specifically. I can think about something morally ambiguous, and I can evaluate the potential consequences, and, just as you are satisfied to observe, I will decide to follow through with this somethin’ and deal with what I gotta deal.”

He sighs. “Because decisions define a person?” 

I tuck my hair tight behind my ears. “Yes.”

And he hums – that beautiful noise resonates in my stomach before sinking down there, low, its weight a comfort. “I agree with you in that respect,” he admits. 

A laugh erupts out of me like the sputter of an engine. Luckily, I’m easy to laughter – it’s like me, as is my genuine grin. “Rust Cohle’s agreein’ with me on somethin’?—Call the police!” 

“We are the police,” he replies smartly, watching me snort and smile and grow flushed in the face. I feel very grateful to that beer – at least my giddiness can be blamed on the effects of alcohol and save me from embarrassment.  

As I simmer down, he looks away, adds, “I agree to an extent. People all think that they’re one-of-a-kind. That they make these—amazing decisions. They speak and do and walk and play and work and fuck and eventually die – all of ‘em.”

“You’re part of the people,” I argue.  

He hums, nodding in acceptance. “Yes.”

“If a person acts due to their instinct, whether it’s succumbing to it or fighting against it, then isn’t man simply his programming?” He lowers his head. “You can be aware of it, and you can be a part of it, too. Who are you to deny yourself the good parts?”  

He fiddles with his cigarette, svelte fingers nimble and acute. I cross my legs, flex my hips; he notices. 

“Because of the consequences,” he replies, a soft whisper.  

I thought that everything meant fuck-all?

For someone who sees no meaning in life, he sure seems to spend a lot of time contemplating it. Here, I thought I’d have hot hands sliding all over me, gripping, spreading, pushing, but instead find myself defence in an unprecedented debate. 

Rust is breathing slower, deeper, almost unable, now, to look me in the eyes, even look at me in general, whereas, before, it had been a choice, whether that choice be conscious or unconscious. His cigarette burns weakly in his fingers, forgotten. The muscle in his jaw flexes, his expression hollow. 

My body buzzes with want, leaves me scrambling for breath like I’ve just run a race. I want. I want, I want, I want. The rough pads of his fingertips, the surest and most confident I’ll have ever known. Sharp tongue, quick and precise. Something about how he smells. All my compliments to pheromones – even in the heavy musk of the bar, I’d smelled him, ashy, warm, alive, and now it’s wreathing all around. Or maybe that’s just me – it’s like when you try to take someone’s pulse with your thumb, and all you’re feeling is your own heartbeat.

I want – my breath trembles with it.

“Rust,” I say softly. He shakes his head a little, looking away still, vulnerable like a wild animal. I sigh, gnawing at my lip. “I really want it. I—I’ve—it’s not just a rash decision,” I explain. “I’ve wanted it for a while, now.”

He shudders – I notice. “Since when?”

I huff out a sheepish laugh, fix my eyes on my restless hands. “You won’t remember it—”

“I will.”

His voice sounds clogged. It sobers me right up. 

“A year back,” I tell him. “You were working at the office—late, in the dark. You called me, and I asked you why, and you said—it was because you were tired and thinkin’.” I glance up to check if he’s maybe looking, but he’s not – he’s turned his head even further away. The soft, gentle curls of his hair tempt me. 

Blindly reaching for the bottle, securing it almost immediately, he finishes the rest of his beer, then sets it back down. 

“I—” he begins, scratching his nose, “—I was—tired.” He pauses to re-thicken his voice. “And—thinking—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but the both of us know what he said that night: Of you. Thinking of you—of me .  

My stomach flips, leaving me almost nauseous, just like it did when I first heard those words. At first, I thought I’d misheard, that I was so tired my mind was playing tricks on me. Then, I thought he was being cruel, or maybe he was drunk. Those two instances weren’t—aren’t—unlike him, but he never, ever calls to be mean or to be stupid. He’d been quiet and warm through the phone after that, a presence so thick I could’ve sworn he had his arms around me right then. I hadn’t slept well for a time, then, of course, and that made it all the more vivid. His voice had made me shiver all the way through as he told me he had to get back to work. 

When I saw him the next morning, I couldn’t look at him. It was the first time I couldn’t, not wouldn’t. It was also the first time I felt him paying attention to me.  

I shift, ask the question I’d wondered since that call: “Why?”

A pause. 

Then: “You brought me coffee that morning,” he explains softly, speaking to the wall opposite. “I was—looking at the mug on my desk – it was yours. Green one you like to use.” He sniffs. “And…” He teeters on the precipice of that word but does not finish the thought. 

Hmm. That’s something to think about. Rust Cohle thinking about me and not picking apart why and why he shouldn’t be. It had been a mindless enough gesture – it’s not unheard of me to be makin’ coffee for other people in the office, not because I have to but because I like to. For the people I can stand, that is: Johansson always, and him for me; Cathleen;   Marty, when I’m not pissed off at him; and Rust, from time to time. Everybody knows that green mug is mine, though – nobody touches it, not even the boss. Rust reads far too much into things. Most of the time, he’s dead-on. I should’ve known from the moment I placed that coffee on his desk, from the sharpening of his eyes (that did not spare me a glance) that lingered on my lingering hand on his table, that he knew. Figured out something I hadn’t even quite figured out myself. Not until later that night. 

I wonder if he’s ever thought of me when fucking his own hand. I wonder if he thinks about me sometimes, when he can’t sleep, in between horror stories and brutal blows and uncovering the secret truths of the universe. I do, sometimes. 

When I push myself back to my feet, stand up, Rust’s attention springs back, and he watches me, looks at me.

Quietly, I relish in the satisfaction of his stare, crossing on light feet to toss my empty beer bottle in the bin. He steps aside to let me open the cupboard under the sink, his hand curled in a loose fist by his side. I’m not trying to tease him – I grant him the space he so clearly needs, retreating about five paces back, leaning slightly myself against the counter. 

I could say anything right now, no matter how insane, and he’d treat it with total and utter respect. I could reveal to him the reaction my body has to seeing his fingers fiddle like that with his cigarette, and he’d manage to identify the cogs and wheels in what, when you step back, actually turns out to be a hidden machine. Christ, I could probably remove all of my clothes, stand naked in front of him, and he’d look on as one would look on at a piece of evidence at work. Going over the details, once, twice, scribbling it all down in that big, leather ledger. 

Here’s what I think: he needs it. For all his talk about how unoriginal, how predictable mammals are at the end of things, he probably knows that himself. The tension in his jaw, the perpetual tightness of breath. That clipped way of talking he has, wound so tight around himself, like a compressed spring fighting its natural urge to let go.  

I could make him let go. Maybe. I wish he’d let me try. It’s nothing possessive, really: wanting to be the one to unravel his tightly coiled body. Just—the release of seeing him be. No thinking in particular – just being.

He is still, however, uncommonly mute, avoiding my eyes.

I sigh. I ask him tentatively, “You think I ought’a be ashamed o’ myself?” biting down on the fleshy inside of my cheek.  

“No,” he contradicts.

“But—you think I should be findin’ my fun elsewhere, with—some other guy?”  

He sort of pins his hands behind his back, pressing his weight against them there at the edge of the sink. He looks a lot taller from this angle. “I think there’s a lotta fellas stumblin’ over themselves to be with a girl like you.”

“Maybe,” I scoff, “but my reptilian brain don’t want none of ‘em.“ I blush warmly when I glance up and he’s there watching me, though there’s no bashfulness at all on his side of it. 

I expect him to maybe dart his eyes away again, like he does, and then walk me to the door, maybe even to the car if I haven’t offended him too badly, and then call it a night. I could stuff it in; I can compartmentalise. Monday would carry on as it always does, except now without the wondering and the yearning and the delusion. Did he have to be so good-looking? His cheap, wrinkled shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows—like they are now—and those lean forearms braced up on the table, caging in the neatly set-out notes scrawled up in his ledger, like they have mind to escape. And he’s—beautiful. He’s tall. Out-of-place sort of tall, where he has this bend to his neck, sometimes, as to not draw attention to himself. Other times, though, he stands to full height, regal, elegant, authoritative, like when he comes out o’ the box.

He sees into people. He feels it all so deeply.  

And he’s looking at me, seeing into me, deeply. His eyes are brittle like china pieced back together with store-bought glue. The low light casts long shadows down his neck and harsh face. 

“Come here to me, Rust,” I say to him, beckoning him over with a tilt of my head. To my surprise, he does. He does immediately, peeling himself off the counter, eyes drifting somewhere just behind me as if disinterested.

He stubs his cigarette out on an old plate, abandons it there officially, before stepping slowly towards me, feet never dragging, dodging my searching eyes like the plague.

Hmm. Maybe I made a good argument “for” to his “against”. Or maybe he was never “against” to begin with. I’ll watch him carefully tomorrow and see if there was anything I missed.

I reach up and touch his face gently. I used to do this with my husband before he passed, and he’d close his eyes and whisper my name and lean into the touch, tender, loving – my fingers shake slightly with the memory. Rust Cohle does none of that, because he is nothing like my husband. He’s perfectly rigid against my fingertips; his stare flits briefly up right into my soul, his mouth pressed in a hard line. Everything about him is so sharp. The ridge of his cheekbones, the defiant slant of his nose. The lean muscle of his arms and shoulders, slightly sinewy just beneath the skin. 

But when I brush my thumbs up along his eyebrows, easing the sharp line between them, he sighs and closes his eyes, neck bowing down, still as stiff as before, just—different. A small gap, an opening, to that locked room of his upstairs.  

“Rust,” I whisper, nose brushing his. He hums again, lowly, eyes shut. “What do you think of us havin’ sex?”

“Sex,“ he replies softly, “is the illusion of connection constituted by the release of a mess of happy hormones, simply by touching all the right places—and nothin’ more.”

I hum and watch the look on his face grow brittle as our breaths mingle closely. God, he’s so near to me that my head swings in a bout of lightheadedness, heady, vision centring in on him and only him, such that I wouldn’t know if this place was burning down all around, even if the flames started eating us alive.  

“I think you’re full o’ shit, Rusty. Know how I know that?”

He sighs shakily. “How?” It’s like the word is dragged right from the pit of his chest, barely a breath to show for the effort of it.

“I can feel you against my leg.” 

He swallows thickly, but he does not blush, and he does not open his eyes. And, contrary to what he might seem, Rust is not cold like stone. When my fingers grow more confident, when they trace and drag lightly along the line of his cheeks, he is warm there. His pulse, when I find it, exists and is hot and slightly erratic, a fact that leaves my mouth dry and open. I can feel the inflexion of his throat as he swallows again, the shift of the skin and the rhythm of his heartbeat, the gentle influence of his breathing. 

I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. So, I ask him, “Can I kiss you?” ever so gently. 

Softer still, he replies, “Yes,” with that slight Southern whistle of his, barely moving. 

Give me strength. Give me strength. 

That look on his face is filling me with a delicious, vibrating power. As I stretch my neck up to brush a kiss against the corner of his mouth, my eyes are open and watching him, charting him: Rust breathes strongly out of his nose, eyes still determinedly shut, like he’s absent and meditating. He is not tough as stone – parts of him are soft. He barely returns the kiss, but, as far as my brain processes, his lips are soft. Hesitant, maybe. 

Then, these soft lips part, and he is sucking in a hot, shuddering breath, capturing me in a deep kiss, as if to breathe all of me in, a strong hand threading through my hair. It hurts a little at first – a small noise escapes my throat at the slight shoots of pain tugging at the roots – but Rust doesn’t seem to notice. Not at first. No, he’s still breathing me in. His lips are dry, rough, a push and tug, a twist, and he’s kissing like a punch, knocking the breath right out of my lungs. Whatever oxygen I manage to hold onto is sucked out of me promptly. 

I whine, my body going all slack and tired as he smooths the hair out of my face, palms dragging clean back across my cheeks. Those hands cradle the back of my head, making it impossible to keep my eyes open.

Content, I sigh, eyes succumbing to the sensation and falling shut. The last thing I see is his own eyes slipping open to look at my face.

Boy, he’s a good kisser. Must be that lizard brain he has such a distaste for.

My fingers blindly reach and fumble at his belt, hooking into the waist, pulling him flush against me. Rust must forget what he’s doing for a moment, and he pauses where he is, in limbo, eyes far away. When I begin to unthread his belt from its quietly clinking buckle, he goes stiff again, blinks rapidly before perceiving me. 

Holy shit, he’s gorgeous.

His hands hover over my shoulders, not quite committed to the contact. 

He’s seeing me—really seeing me—as I unzip his trousers and spit crudely into my palm and curl around the length of him, warm, tight. I begin to understand the gentle throb and strain he feels, a delightful thrill running rapid all through my insides. He feels deliciously alive. 

But then he turns his head away, neck straining up, breath choked back in his throat. His hands come away, raised, it looks like, as if trying to seem non-confrontational, trying to come away unscathed from a bad situation. 

My stomach burns with desire. “Let yourself like it, Rust,” I mumble against his cheek. “Are you here with me?” 

I can feel him swallow.

“Yes,” he responds. I guide his face to me, stroking his cock confidently once, twice, as encouragement, maybe. Temptation. Whatever you want to call it. My mouth waters, my head goes airy, when I feel his sex twitch in my embrace. 

“Kiss me again, then.” 

And he does. Brows furrowed as if in pain, he does, with the tip of his nose dragging and pressing into my cheek. He kisses me sweetly once, then again, and then pants down hotly into my mouth, hovering there before sliding his tongue deep inside, close, smooth. 

I let myself love it. I let myself let go with every kiss he blesses me with, growing looser and easier and lighter each second. 

The weight of him in my hand inspires a beautiful urge to have him lay down and let me feel every part of his body. Even though his hips stutter, he doesn’t buck up into my fist, doesn’t whine, doesn’t moan, doesn’t curse. Not yet. He just breathes and breathes, and kisses me and kisses me, like it’s all he was set on Earth to do. All he’s allowing himself to do.

Desperate, perhaps, my thighs are pressed against his, feeling unnaturally weak and warm. The throb between my legs coincides with my heart rushing in my ears, a steady ache, impatient. Part of me wants to drag this out as long as possible, because what if this never happens again?—and another part wants to push him inside me already, have him fill me up, fuck me stupid. 

This thought stuffs me up to the brim, like cotton punched down into a pillowcase. I whine shallowly and try to slot his thigh between my own. 

A switch in his brain must flick on. 

It’s like he’s inside my head, like he’s in on my desperation, like he can see and feel every sinful image and thought circulating my alighted brain. He knows it all so well, such that he uses his hips to press us firmly against the counter, spreads my legs with the nudge of his foot between mine, and immediately pushes the rough pads of his fingers right where I need it, through the fabric of my skirt, letting me grind myself against him, hips and all. He circles there generously. I can feel my need dripping from me. He can too, no doubt. 

I sigh, he breathes. I gasp, he breathes. My eyes flutter open and shut, but he looks on, eyes half-lidded but stare immovable. 

He then lifts his knee to place against my cunt. 

“That feels good, don’t it?” he says gently, rocking me over his knee up and down, back and forth, fingers digging into the soft skin of my hips.

My legs widen. When I gasp out weakly, he raises his brow and scans my face, like he had predicted the shaky, wordless nod that I offer to him too late in return. 

“Did you want it like this, girl?” His voice is low, intimate, a hit of something just shy of addictive. “Or did you want somethin’ else, too?” 

He kisses the hollow of my neck. 

His other hand grips at my ass, up my skirt, kneading the flesh there, manipulating it, and his fingers ghost my slit, spreading me around his knee. He fucks up into my hand. I slide my fingers through his hair, which is soft and warm like butter. 

Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid, pretty curls. I’ve proved my point: regardless of whatever act he may try to put on afterwards, we’ll both know that Rust isn’t as numb as he wants to be, that I made him feel good, that I made him want me, and that he’s hot-blooded and thrumming with life. I can feel how alive he is . I hope he thinks of this again some time, whether by himself or surrounded by people. I hope it drives him a bit mad, remembering this. 

A hot, sharp breath fans out across my cheek, his mouth slotting back over mine, open, daring me. 

I rut against his knee, my fingers teasing the wet head of his cock. I look down between us, at my hand on him, with half a mind to drop onto my knees and make him cum down my throat.

Rust lets out a grunt and swallows hard again.  

Then, he gently grabs my wrist and pulls my hand out of his pants, leaving me dazed and confused. With nimble fingers, he unzips my skirt, pushing it over my hips and dragging his hands over my bare skin. He asks me, “You want the bed?”

I step out of the pool of fabric around my feet, slide my shoes off. “‘s not a bed.” 

I slide my fingers beneath his sweaty, white undershirt, feeling the taut muscle there, feeling the steady breaths that contradict his racing pulse. He holds my eyes, dipping slightly when I dip, tilting when I tilt. “Seems like one to me.”

How unlike him. 

A smile spreads over my face, and his pupils blow wide, dark, imploring. “You wait ‘n’ see what happens when the dust-mites turn up.” 

His eyes on me alone are enough to leave me breathless, chest caving in on itself. Of course, when he kisses me softly, it only makes things worse – his long fingers curl around the base of my throat, watching me watching him, and his other hand slides up under the hem of my blouse, palm spread over my bellybutton. 

I sigh, try not to squirm. 

“You want the bed?” he repeats, heavy, rough. I bite back a needy whine that sits at the back of my mouth. His fingertips press down slightly into my pulse, tightening my breathing. 

I nod. “Yeah.” 

Think of all the times I’ve sulked over his lack of eye contact with me. Was I annoying? Uninteresting? That, obviously, was an immature way of looking at things, definitely not improved by my distinct femininity undergoing some kind of unspoken disapproval by most I met on the job. This is the most present he has ever been in a moment with me around.

As he pulls himself away, steps back, his eyes are darting over my face, less like he’s judging me and more like he’s trying to find and memorise every detail. I do that, sometimes: if I pay well enough attention, it feels like I’m re-living the moment when remembering. 

His hands slot sensibly into his pockets as if his cock isn’t blushing and poking out of his fly right now, belt undone, hanging low about his narrow hips. 

Legs don’t fail me now. I slink out of the glowing kitchen and carry on to where the mattress lies in a dim, blue corner, the strange crucifix watching over, a long shadow cast over the empty wall upon which it hangs. He follows shortly behind me, his warmth radiating out onto my back. 

I pause and look out onto the darkness revealed behind the half-open slats of the floor-to-ceiling blinds that shield the room from the window to the outside world. 

Rust’s presence is intoxicating behind me. He smells like cigarette smoke, still, enticing. I’m trying to quit, but he makes it damn hard. His nose is just shy of my hair, his body so close to enveloping me into him – the prospect of it makes me shiver in delight. I must hallucinate his fingertips along my spine. 

I unbutton my blouse with slow fingers, then slide it off and undo my bra. 

His breathing is level and grounding by my ear as he comes close, sliding his strong, wide hand up my stomach, along my ribs, and cups under my soft breast. He rubs over my nipple in gentle circles before squeezing over me warmly. He then comes around to pinch the creamy tissue gentle between his fingers and thumb, closing his hot mouth over, drawing along his feverish tongue. I sigh, stroke his hair, let him press soft pecks and kisses to the curve of the soft flesh and to my sternum.

My fingers, cupped around the nape of his neck, dip under the collar, cool. This touch, for some reason, causes him to make some sort of breathless, pathetic noise against me. His eyes are half-shut. 

“Anything else philosophical y’wanna get out before we fuck?” I quip smartly (though, not feeling so smart altogether), hand placed innocently on his hip. 

He lifts his head, removes his hands from my body – he looks so tragically beautiful in this light. “You want me inside you?” he asks genuinely, seemingly aloof to the fact I’m naked in front of him, open and wanton and pressing my thighs together, his eyes never drifting from mine.

“What do you want, Rust?” I whisper. 

He seems to really think about it – he’s always thinking. Briefly, his eyes flit down to my mouth. Then, he looks away, scratches at his forehead. 

After a moment longer, he swallows thickly and tips his head down over to the bed, tells me, “Lie down on the mattress,” in a gentle, decisive tone. He’s so soft-spoken – it makes my toes curl. 

I do as told, transfixed by the dark shadow in his eyes, and sink down to sit and then recline back on his coarse mattress, coarse bedsheets, with my weight on my forearms and chin tilted up towards him. He watches me, tucking his thick cock back into his underwear.

Still fully dressed in his work attire, he takes a step forward, looming over me, powerful, assertive. Saliva pools in my mouth—again—as I play with the thought of him sitting heavy on my tongue with his stomach tight, shaking, hands in my hair, fucking down my throat. I would let him. Hell, I’d probably let him do anything he wanted to me at this point. 

Does he know that? Maybe. I don’t know.

As he reaches his hand out too smooth the hair out of my face, I try to figure it out, but I can’t – he seems too wrapped up in his own desire to be thinking anything at the moment. I feel a flicker of satisfaction jump up in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe that’s something else. 

“Lie back, girl,” he tells me. 

My cunt flexes. 

I thump onto my back, breathless. “Take off your shirt, Rust.” 

Without replying, he sinks down to his knees in front of me, my thighs. Instinctively, I prop myself up and watch him unbutton that wrinkled shirt all the way down, shrug it over his broad shoulders. I could fuck myself silly just over the thought of those shoulders, I remark inwardly. He tugs the wifebeater over his head, lean muscles catching the low light, strong, study, solid, and tosses the thing to the side thoughtlessly. My hands reach out to touch him, to feel him and know him. When my fingers press into his skin, glide up his neck and down over his chest, he sighs deeply. He then carefully removes my hands, urging me to sprawl down under him.

“Said lie back, didn’t I?” 

Rust doesn’t say another word before placing his large hands on my knees and easing them apart, lowering himself to press pecks and slow, open-mouthed kisses to my thighs, closer, closer, stroking my sensitive skin gently. I almost flinch at his every touch, like it burns. His face is awful serious, like he’s concentrating. I wriggle in anticipation, eager. 

“Rust,” I whisper purposelessly. He looks up, hums, searches my face for anything the matter. 

I watch on desperately, on the brink of feral distress. A sob clogs my throat as he kisses my fluttering stomach, ducking his head down and curling his forearms, his hands, around my thighs. The dark stamp of his bone-bird tattoo curls over his arm. I realise he is waiting for my attention to return to him, his eyes patient but glazed over with something cardinal. Hungry.

“Can—?”

“Yes.” 

He hums. And then he breathes hotly over my underwear before pressing his nose right there into the damp fabric, inhaling my scent there. I whimper at the pressure he applies with the strong bridge of his nose, at the wetness of his open mouth against me. He breathes heavily into me, groaning slightly beneath it all – I can’t tell past the thrumming of my heart in my ears.  

“Rust,” I whisper again, my shoulder straining with the task of keeping me up and looking down at the sight of his sweet head buried between my glistening thighs.   

“Lie back.”  

He kisses me through my underwear, dutifully kneading the flesh of my hips, my inner thighs.

I thump back against the mattress, helpless, keening into his touch as this grey man roughly tugs my underwear down, down, all the way down, until they’re clean off my body, long gone, and then returns his nose to the cleft of my pussy, unseaming me with his tongue, opening me up, breathing me in. It’s enough to draw a shallow, hoarse cry from me. He doesn’t say anything, and I can’t say anything, biting down on my white knuckles.

Rust licks warm over my clit, sucking gently on the bud of nerves (then not so gently), before sliding down, down through my very centre.

Whining breathily, the twist in my stomach tightens and spasms as he presses my hips and thighs right down against the mattress, slow, strong, giving me time to notice it, realise it, give into it, deny the natural instinct to curl my limbs tight all over his face, his neck, his mouth. 

Holy fuck. Rust Cohle has his face buried between my legs right now. I have Rust Cohle’s tongue pushing deep into my cunt – he sighs softly, a sound with its own powerful gravity a black hole to envelop me in, and grinds his hips against the edge of the mattress for a split second, just once. My mind pulses with the thought of making him cum. I wonder if he feels the same hunger. 

Then, he’s sinking his long, elegant fingers into me, one, then two, and just the knowledge that those fingers belong to him makes my thighs quiver and shake, makes me sigh again. Thick, confident, they curl inside, slow like an experiment, right up to the knuckle. When he taps up against me, when I squeal and crimp up into his hold, he returns himself to mouth dutifully over my clit.  My hand threads itself into his hair, holding him steady – I offer a breathless moan when his grip across my hips loosen, an invitation to begin rolling myself up over his pretty face. He pulls his fingers out of me, wet and hot, and encourages my thighs upon his beautiful shoulders, clinging onto them urgently. He shudders a little, I think, when I lock them firmly around his head and grind myself shamelessly against his mouth, his nose. He moves his jaw, his face, in tandem.

I cum after a while like that, because how can I not? The searing buzz reaches a roiling static.

I go loose, moaning softly, melted down flat, and stroke fuzzy fingers through Rust’s pretty hair as he sucks my clit still, as he inhales again and sighs again, reduced to something primitive and needy.

Thick, my heartbeat throbs and echoes like a drum in my skull, threatening. I feel so full that I could mistake the beat of pleasure for nausea pressing in my throat. It was silly to think that this could all be satisfied just from one time. My eyes closed, Rust’s light touch over my abdomen, up to my throat, is acute and heightened, like a million tiny, individual sparks. His fingers fumble over my jaw, then press lightly over my pulse. 

He retreats just as I’m playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, coming to stand to full height above me, unthreading his belt from his trousers with quiet, precise hands. I press my shaking thighs together, watching him breathe strongly through his nose, trying to remain somewhat respectable in the presence of the darkening look in his eyes that is locked down on my body.

He pauses, wipes some shine from his nose. Before he can continue with whatever, I find myself sitting up on my knees, grabbing his hips hard enough to bruise all pretty and purple, shoving the trousers down to his knees, and palming him through his boxers. 

We don’t have to say anything. He just watches me passively, pushing my hair back again, behind my ears, my shoulders, rolling my earlobe softly between his fingertips.

I remove his underwear, take him into my mouth, thick and long and wanting; he sighs, holds my head with two steady hands.

When was the last time someone helped him like this? I honestly couldn’t have told you, even given a loose theory, prior to this moment: Rust is simultaneously the hottest and most non-sexual being I’ve ever come across in my life. He just happens to be beautiful; he just happens to inspire these sort of feelings choking up inside me. No overarching intention that he’ll ever admit to, no vanity, no preening. So strict to himself, so tight, like a piston, something that fights and pushes and hurts.

So, as I hold him firmly and suck at the head of his blushing cock, kissing him, I watch his face, savour the tart taste of him, and press my thighs together: he’s becoming warmer, looser.

Still, as much as I want him, I know he’s wanted me. However vague he tells it, he’s wanted me. Good Lord, he looks even more stressed now, somehow, than when we had just been talkin’. Hands gently cradling my skull, he tilts his head away, watches the cross on the wall, as he succumbs to it, maybe, and begins to gently, languidly fuck my face. I tuck a hand between my thighs, and I love him, my other with the fingers digging into his hip, his ass. If I’m lucky, maybe it’ll leave some sort of mark, just to remind him I was here, so that, when he’s being all indifferent again, with his eyes lowered to the floor as he shares a report with me at my prim, little desk, we’ll both know that we were once in this room together, here like this.

Rust breathes and breathes, almost mechanically, and slides his cock further into my mouth. The weight of him in there drives me half-insane. If I could consume him, envelop him, and we could be one and the same, I’d readily allow it. When he sinks deeper still down my throat, I sigh around him, rub myself the way I like.

His eyes are determinedly shut, like some part of him refuses to be here. 

Before I can make him cum, he shakes his head and tugs my hair back a little bit, mumbling for me to stop and sit away. 

For all his mouthiness just a half hour ago, would you look at him now?—Rust Cohle, plundered by the human sensation of speechlessness. I’ve never seen him out of his element before. When he comes down and cages me with his body, hot skin flush against hot skin, I don’t mean that in a bad sense. Shit, he’s far from it. But there’s nothing to say. Nothing of note, nothing to pick apart, no deeper meaning, no theory. Just an itch that has to be scratched. He wants, he is, and it’s heaven to see. 

In the dark, he sinks in to me as he is, eliciting from me a soft moan that curls over the shell of his ear. I have to bite down on his shoulder when comes the push, the stretch, the sink, the comfort of him inside. I curl my legs around his waist and grab at his ass, willing him deeper still. He shudders silently over me, thick ripples of pleasure rolling through his lean body.

I curse, but I’m sure it barely registers with him. 

His head lifts and his eyes clamp shut as he braces an arm against the wall, lifting one of my legs up over his hip and fucking into me deeper, slipping out and in, and again, and again. I know what I’d see if I took a look down, saw his cock pumping into me, but I can hardly do anything but buck my hips up to meet his effort, my stomach stuttering with that building pressure, hands gripping desperately around his neck and shoulders. 

Though, I’m not even sure it is effort that’s driving him. 

I mumble into his shoulder, dumb, focussing on the feel and press of him in my belly. I doubt he’s really aware of anything more than the sensation of it, evident from the small grunt that passes his lips as he fucks deep in me. His stomach presses heavier down onto mine, crushing a delicious pressure there, teasing out a long, breathy whimper. He snakes an arm around my hips, pushes his free hand to the back of my knee, tilting my legs back a little more, and then pulls me wider. Tight, he moves me how he wants me, my flesh dipping and carving, fucking himself raw with me, with my hot cunt. His mouth moves over mine, not kissing me, not speaking, just there, present, hot, panting. He doesn’t open his eyes, so I close mine, and I breathe.

Rust stutters and cums and spills over into me with a grunt. He pants sharply, harshly, rhythmically into my mouth, tense again, and then he collapses over my body, and he lays there. I lay there too, burning on the far inside. 

I think he only really remembers I’m there when I shift under him.

His eyelashes brush against my cheek. “Sorry,” he murmurs, but the sound of his voice scrapes directly against my brain with the shock of a flesh-wound. 

I assume he’s referring to the thick cum that I can feel leaking out of me now. He shifts his hips, adjusting himself in the grip of my cunt. My fingers wrap around his arms, squeeze as I feel him easing out. 

“It’s okay,” I reply. 

He glances down between us and guides himself out with a lewd noise, swallowing hard. I shiver. 

Quiet, sedated, he shrugs his trousers, his underwear, off of his ankles, slipping the bedsheet over both our naked selves. His hand spreads and flattens warm over my abdomen, feeling the gentle swell and sink of the breaths I take and release.

[lowkeyerror]

A New Victim

Sam Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Notes: 1st part of a lil mini-series, had to post something for Halloween, will contain suspected Scream warnings eventually

Summary: You knew something of the rumors surround your classmate, Tara but you never took them seriously. However you find yourself wrapped up in the real life horror story.

Pt2 | Pt3 | Masterlist

You had heard the rumors about Tara Carpenter and her sister circulating around campus. The rumors didn’t bother you much. Or rather they didn’t persuade you to treat your classmate, Tara, any differently than you would treat anyone else.

Some people were afraid to interact with her in fear of pissing her off. They were more afraid that getting on Tara’s bad side would alert her sister, Sam.

Now Sam was a little scary. You had seen her with Tara a few times. The woman looked like her primary state of being was upset. She looked like a very serious figure.

You didn’t blame her. Their whole group of friends had almost been murdered. Instead of sympathy and compassion the public offered accusations and scrutiny. So much so that they moved away from their hometown to escape the media.

“You’re friends with my sister, right?”

You were sat under a tree on campus the first time you heard Sam speak. Looking at her this close made your heart flutter. She was an attractive woman and that was enough to make you sweat a bit.

Unable to speak for a moment, you nod dumbly.

Sam ignores it and continues with her questioning,” Have you seen her today? I’ve been looking for her everywhere and I can’t find her.”

“She left class a bit early today. I think she said something about Chad needing her help with something.”

Sam rolls her eyes, “Of course she did. I’m Sam by the way, sorry to interrupt you."

Before you can say your own name, the younger Carpenter sister is shouting it as she approaches the tree with Chad trailing behind her.

“Y/n! Don’t mind my overprotective and obsessive sister. What ever she threatened you with, I can promise she won’t do.”

“Where have you been? Y/n told me you left class to meet Chad.”

Tara glares at the girl sitting,” You told her I skipped.”

You shrug,” She seemed worried, so I just told her you left with Chad.”

“Where I am is none of her business. She has my number if she’s looking for me.”

Sam scoffs, “Having your number doesn’t mean shit if you don’t answer your fucking phone.”

“I think we should all just calm down for a second, okay. Tara is safe and everything is fine,” Chad tries to de-escalate the situation.

“No, it’s not fine Chad. Why is my sister skipping classes to meet up with you? And why isn’t she answering my text or calls?”

Y/n had no place in this conversation, but she felt like moving away would only cause a bigger fuss.

“Because we were fucking. Is that what you want to hear Sam?”

Sam runs a hand through her hair,” I don’t care that you’re fucking. I care that I can’t get in contact with you when I’m worried about you.”

“What are you worried about?”

Sam looks at the girl as if she’s grown two heads,” Are you fucking serious Tara?”

Tara groans,” We aren’t there anymore, Sam. We left Woodsboro. No one is coming after us. So why should I have to live my life in paranoia because you can’t move on?”

“Fine, you know what I'm done. Don't pretend you don't have that feeling like someone is always fucking watching us. Don't pretend like what happened back there doesn’t fucking traumatize you and make it hard to live your day-to-day life. But most of all don’t act like there aren’t psychos out there willing to try to fucking replicate that shit because it happens every fucking time, Tara.”

Sam storms off after that. Tara’s eyes soften for a moment before her mask comes back on. Chad goes to rest his hand on her shoulder, but she shakes him off.

It’s only then that her eyes land on you, “You must feel like it’s your lucky day getting front row tickets to the freak show.”

You shook your head, “It’s none of my business, so I don’t really care.”

Chad senses that there’s more you want to say, “But…”

“But your sister kind of has a point. There’s a lot of sick fucks out there that have a weird obsession over him and over y’all. Entire internet communities are filled with those kinds of people. It’s a little naïve to think that just because you moved away that you’re safe.”

Neither Tara nor Chad like the way the last sentence sounds in your voice. They both eye you suspiciously. That’s when you realize what you said could come off wrong.

You began to sputter and put your hands up in surrender, “I’m just agreeing with Sam.”

Chad wasn’t convinced, but Tara had known you a little better. She knew that your awkward demeanor was tried and true.

“Anything else you want to pile on, Y/n?”

You look between the standing pair,” You left class to fuck your boyfriend?”

That leaves them both blushing rapidly. Tara quickly spews out, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

While Chad opts for, “We did not hook up.”

You laugh at their response. Unfortunately for you, this brought you a step to close to the kids from Woodsboro in the eyes of Ghostface.

The killer had watched the entire interaction from start to finish. From the moment Sam approached you, the killer began analyzing you.

They saw the potential interest you had in Sam and your budding friendship with Tara as enough reason to add you to their list.

Tara and Chad eventually left you alone. Shortly after their departure you decided that it was time for you to leave as well.

It was still daylight when you decided to make your way to your apartment. There was a pit in your stomach as you walked. Though the streets were crowded, it felt like someone was staring at you.

You wanted to dismiss the feeling, but you checked your surroundings first. It was almost as if the crowd had faded away and the sounds of the bustling New York streets came to a halt.

Staring at you from across the street, was Ghostface. In your mind this wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been. You had stopped walking, almost paralyzed in your spot.

The killer sent a wave your way, before dragging their finger across their neck. You shut your eyes as you stood still. You were trying to convince yourself that when you opened them, you’d wake up from a dream.

When you feel a body collide with yours, you shriek and push the person away. Your eyes shoot open instantly.

You don’t know if it’s lucky or unlucky that Samantha Carpenter was on the ground in front of you.

The woman wanted to yell at you, but the look of terror on your face stopped her. It was like you were in a trance, your eyes were glued to a spot across the street. Sam looks in that direction but doesn’t see anything.

She slowly picks herself off of the floor. She’s hesitant to touch you, so instead she just calls your name, “Y/n, what was that about?”

You turn your attention to the woman, but you look physically ill, and she takes note of that.

“I saw- He’s going to kill me. Oh fuck, I’m going to throw up.”

The bile quickly rises up your throat. You rush to the end of the street and hunch over.

Sam is instantly by your side. She holds your hair with one hand and rubs your back with the other. The Carpenter sister couldn’t really make out what you said the first time.

Once you finish vomiting, she wants to question you again, but refrains from doing so. Though it is against her own set of strict rules, you look unwell, and she can’t leave you like this in good conscious.

The apartment is close by, so she helps you stand and guides you to her apartment. You don’t say anything during the walk, you barely have even the cognizance to pick up your feet.

The only image that keeps replaying in your head is the cloaked figure dragging their finger across their throat. It makes you want to puke all over again.

When she enters the apartment it’s a full house. Tara, Chad, Anika, Mindy, Ethan, and Quinn; were all congregated in the living room.

Sam motions the people on the couch to move out of the way. She sits you up straight and everyone is silent.

“Who is that? I thought we strictly had a no one, except Quinn's hook ups and us, in this apartment rules.” Mindy is the first to speak up.

“Why is Y/n here and why does she look like that?” Tara gives her sister a pointed look.

“Don’t look at me I found her on the street like this. She shoved me to the ground and vomited in the street.”

“Poor thing,” Quinn reacts to Sam’s words.

“Did she say anything? Because it looks like she’s a walking zombie,” Ethan adds.

Sam nods, “She did, but I didn’t understand her and seconds later she was puking.”

Anika nudges Tara,” She’s your friend, try to get through to her.”

Tara slowly approaches Y/n. She gets eye level with the girl who seems to be in a catatonic state.

“Y/n, what happened? Talk to me,” Tara’s voice is gentle when she speaks. A side of her that no one in the house is used to seeing emerges.

You begin to tremble, and your eyes suddenly come alive. Your voice is shaky,” He’s going to kill me."

It was a whisper, but Tara heard you perfectly clear. Sam notices her sister’s body tense after the words left your lips.

“Who?”

You begin to shake your head as tears start to stream down your face. Your head buries itself in your hands.

“I saw him, across the street,” your throat burns as you spoke.

Sam hears that part and interjects herself in the conversation,” Who did you see Y/n?”

“Ghostface.”

[onlyseokmins]

show and tell • l.s.m.

Pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), best friends/idiots to lovers!au Warnings: swearing, lotssss of teasing/switch dynamics, tickling, reader is obsessed w/ seokmin's body, they're idiots your honor and they're a lil bit in L-word 🤮, mingyu thrown under the bus as always, ONE BAD PUN BC I THINK I'M FUNNY, sex is as silly as me, BIG COCK SEOK 🗣️ like he's fucking huge okay, oral (both rec. kind of), attempt at 69 but seok's a menace the entire time, fingering, CRYING/TEARS, possession, biting, marking, multiple orgasms, squirting, lil bit of cumplay ig?, mentions of prev partners, overstim... i think that's it lmk if i missed smth 🥵😰 WC: 6.5k A/N: um so this is the most self-indulgent thing i dared to post you're WELCOME i shall now go die in a hole to never be seen ever again... happy belated birthday to the loml ugh ty to all the frens that let me sob in their dms and to @onlymingyus for helping me with a damn title 💖

The commonly shared belief among your friend group was that Seokmin is abnormally soft when it comes to you.

You thought they were full of shit. 

The bestest buddy in the world was also the softest ray of morning sunshine to ever exist in general. You could barely count on one hand the number of people he genuinely ever showed disdain towards or didn't get along with. All in all — it was extremely hilarious in your opinion because Seokmin's fluffy personality greatly contrasted with his lean, sharp physique. 

Ironically, the main reason you ended up in this position.

Just moments before, you were on his bed and caged between his arms. The dog tag necklace you'd gifted, engraved with his birth date and initials, swinging in the same rhythm that your heart rapidly beats with the small space separating your bodies. A sly grin raises the corners of his lips, the long fingers of his left-hand creeping up to trail lightly at your sides.

"I know you have abs."

Seokmin's hands fly up to wrap defensively around his body, though all in good jest. "You can't just ask a dude how many abs he has!"

"And you can't lie to me by saying you don't have any! Do you know how many of your dude-bros have blabbed about your crazy gym routine to me? Can you even guess how many girls bitched at me 'cause you weren't shirtless at my pool party? As if that's my fault?"

"But it's mine?"

"No, all I have to do is prove them wrong. So, show me the goods!"

You sucked at making up your mind — what to eat, what to wear, what to watch, what to do — okay, but who doesn't? It's something Seokmin was very familiar with, hence him always having to pick up wherever you left off. He also knows just as well that once you've settled on something, you'll see it through to the very end. Eventually. 

Which normally works out in his favor except in moments like now. So he resorts to a different preventative measure — tickling the decisiveness right out of you.

Like hell you'll let him do what he wants.

Maybe the whispers about him being soft for you were right. After all, it's to your utter benefit when you push at his shoulder. Only a bit unbalanced, he easily falls onto his side and you scramble to climb on top of him at record speed, one arm pinning Seokmin's wrists against the pillow beneath his head. 

Unfortunately, this looks like one of your 3,718,493,842 very bad choices in life. Once again, something you didn't think all the way through. Sure, you've bested Seokmin at light wrestling and play-fighting before — back when you were toddlers and all he did was cry.

Now, at adult ages, it seems like a horrible, terrible, very bad idea to have him beneath you. Your fingers play with the hem of his black t-shirt that's ridden up ever so slightly, unbearablely close to the leather band of his silver belt buckle. 

Seokmin's pupils are blown wide as he looks up at you with a strange, almost starry-eyed look of surprise. Black bangs flipped up across the dark gray of his blanket, silver chain askew shining against his collarbones, mouth slightly ajar.

Suddenly you're hyper-aware of sitting right on top of him, completely obliterating the distance between your bodies earlier, and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination from what you can feel nestled in between your legs. 

"Would it be inappropriate of me to take your shirt off right now?" you can't help but ask.

He laughs, all breathless and high-pitched like he does when he's nervous. "You're asking for permission?"

"Seokmin," you whine and shift your hips in protest without thinking. Another bad move. Oops. "I'm trying to be polite."

"You have me pinned to my bed with the intent to strip me and you're worried about being polite?"

"Oh, please, you could easily break free."

It's true. His wrists twitch a bit under your grasp, almost like he's attempting to do just that but you're faster once more. Or he's just letting you have your way with him. Whatever the case, your other hand firmly holds both of his down which only brings your faces closer together.

"Don't move."

"Okay," Seokmin agrees and licks his lips, "at least you know what consent means."

"Are you consenting?"

"Depends on what to."

"Me taking off your shirt."

"… Should I be flattered?"

"Very."

Brown eyes close, his brow furrowing. For a minute, you think you've accidentally taken things too far and are about to quickly apologize and backpedal before things backfire until his lips quirk up and Seokmin snorts.

"Never imagined you'd be stripping me like this."

You would agree because what the hell? All this for some abs? But the way he says it makes you pause.

"Have you imagined this before?"

Expecting him to panic or something, you're even more taken aback when he bites his lip like he's holding back more laughter. 

"And what if I have? You'll be offended even if I lie." 

You narrow your eyes challengingly while his sparkle. "Are you… flirting with me?" 

"That is not how I flirt but okay." 

"You're being weird. Weird weird. Like super-duper weird." 

"Says the one soaking my jeans, right now." 

You want to scream. Instead, you let out a scandalized gasp, eyes widening. The effort it takes to bolt away means you must release Seokmin. Something that doesn't even cross your mind with the shame heating up your cheeks, mortification setting off every sirening alarm in your nervous system.

Your first mistake.

Countless other mistakes will be made after this, but looking back — could they really be watered down to just a mistake after the end results? Why you're even so embarrassed in the first place is beyond you. And your best friend has zero intentions of letting you get away from him.

The minute Seokmin's hands are freed, one flies to keep your hips pressed against his while the other gently braces your back. Lifting his torso up with insane core strength he clearly was lying about not having, you have no choice but to wrap an arm instinctively around his neck like a koala. Your other hand curls into a fist, clinging against the fabric straining with the flex of his chest muscles while simultaneously attempting to push him back in a futile effort.

"Breathe," Seokmin murmurs in mild concern. His eyes crinkle as he smiles encouragingly. "Breathe for me, babe."

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath. If you inched any closer forward, your nose would brush against his, and leaning too far back would end up with him on top of you again.

"This is all your fault, babe."

"You're the one that started this in the first place, babe."

"All I wanted was to see your abs," your voice drops to a pathetic whisper, "babe."

"All you had to do was ask, silly."

"I did!"

To your horror, he leans in even closer with a devious smirk so his nose brushes tenderly against yours. "For yourself. Not others."

"What… what are you playing at Seokmin?"

"It's like you misinterpret everything I do on purpose."

"I — "

"If you think I'm just playing around you're sorely mistaken."

A beat of silence. "Then what are you doing?"

"Nothing," he says innocently even though the hand on your back trails upwards and not-so-innocently unclasps the bra underneath your shirt. 

Your jaw drops. Of course, your modest top is still on and the shoulder straps keep your undergarment in place. Yet, you feel naked with the way Seokmin shamelessly ogles your covered chest and lets out a satisfied groan, pleased that you weren't wearing a sports bra. After all, it's not the first time he's done that for you — but it is under this strange context.

"Seokmin — "

"I'll do whatever you want me to do. Tell me." His voice is low, rougher than you've ever heard, causing tingles to shoot down your spine at the way he says your name. "I should take full responsibility for whatever happens."

His last sentence echoes over and over inside your head because yeah, what the hell is going to happen? — until you blurt out, "You find me attractive?"

Finally, Seokmin acts the way you expect and are familiar with, his shy demeanor coming out like sun rays peeking through overcast clouds. Bowing his head, forehead flopping on your shoulder, he admits defeat. 

"As if that's even a question, goofball."

"No way — there's no way! My bestie, you, find me, your bestie, like. Hot?"

"Look, I know it's cliché to fall for your friend and all that stupid shit," he grumbles, "but you don't have to sound so shocked. I already know thanks to Mingyu."

You freeze. "Know what?"

"… You're really going to make me say it?" he laughs in disbelief and shakes his head against your shoulder, causing your loose strap to slide down. "When my pride's already in tatters?"

Urging Seokmin to pick up his head and look at you, you face his brown eyes straight-on and cup his flushed cheek. "What did Mingyu say that crushed your pride?"

He sighs. "He told you I liked you before I ever got the chance to say it myself to you."

Your eyebrows raise. "He did?"

"Yeah. And I thought you just. Well. I don't know, I thought you were just ignoring it out of consideration or something. Obviously. Since you didn't say anything."

"… All 'cause I was pretty sure he blabbered about accidentally spilling the beans to you about me liking you."

The both of you pause, silently cursing poor Mingyu. He did mean well. Somehow.

"You're joking right," Seokmin whispers, "is this real?"

"What makes you think it's not."

"Because you've only ever returned my feelings in my dreams."

Your pride swells at that, wrapping your arms around his neck daringly. "Dream about me often?"

He falls backward on the bed, taking you down with him with your bodies pressed tightly together. You admire his handsome features with renewed thirst while he shuts his eyes, no longer forcing yourself to view him through the platonic lenses you'd kept on for so long.

Then his eyes flash back open and you flinch at the burning desire blazing within them. He's never looked at you like that, at least not directly and it ignites the equal yearning you feel for him like a match.

"Yeah," he answers your teasing question, "I do."

Just the thought alone makes you dizzy. Your best friend, your sweet and lovely Seokmin who puts up with all your bullshit, laying here on this exact bed with thoughts of you consuming his mind. Pining for you. Wanting you. Shit, you think he deserves to have all his fantasies come true. And you're more than happy to help him out. 

"What do we do in your dreams?"

"Everything. Anything."

An iron-clad grip will probably leave bruises behind but it's not enough to stop you from a slow, lazy grind of your hips. You sit up for more leverage, hands on his broad shoulders for support, watching with smugness oozing out of your smile as he struggles to continue his wholesome thoughts.

"Holding hands, cute dates, buying you pretty things… "

"C'mon babe," you tease, "what else?"

"Ah… " Seokmin sighs, throwing an arm over his face to hide his eyes though it can't hide the flush creeping up his neck, to his cheeks, and coloring his cute ears. "You know… "

"Nah, I don't. Not unless you tell me." 

"… Just gets lonely in bed. At night. Cold."

"We've slept together before when I've stayed the night and vice versa."

"Mhm, but never with my dick inside of you."

You coo, trying to keep up your unbothered façade as though the quickening pace of your hips isn't making an insane mess of his lap. 

"Poor little Seokminnie had to jerk off all by himself." Leaning down to whisper maliciously in the ear that isn't shielded by his elbow, "Or did you do it while I was laying next to you because you were so frustrated?"

"As if," he scoffs, "and I'm not sure what you mean by little."

Like a switch has flipped, two hands return and grip your hips, keeping them stationary. To prove his point hard, it's Seokmin's turn to grind his pelvis up into the moist heat of your covered cunt while holding you still to feel every agonizingly delicious drag of his cock. The way he can feel you pulse against him even through your thin shorts, the devastating whimper that leaves your mouth when the rough fabric manages to catch your clit just right make up for the mildly gross stickiness of precum inside of his jeans.

A sadistic grin leers at you, almost a snarl. Such a jarring contrast to the normally soft, fond looks you're used to and a shudder runs through your body at the shock, another rush of heated arousal dripping from your pussy.

It's cute, Seokmin thinks to himself, how you put up this act and think you're the one in control when it's really me, the one whose lap you're on.

"Can you even blame me?" he growls, not waiting nor expecting any answer as he sits back up, jostling your body in the process. "I was so good, so well-behaved in front of you. And yet you waltz around me with barely anything on all the damn time, flirting with all my friends in that skimpy bathing suit without a care in the world… "

You don't even know when you ended up on your back. Staring wide-eyed into Seokmin's narrowed ones, his eyelids fluttering as he recalls these memories, fist clenched and arms tense as he towers on top of you once again. He's panting, lower body still pressed against yours.

"Batting your eyelashes at me, giggling, grinding that sweet ass all over me on the dancefloor and then skipping away even though I wanted to touch you so badly… and if that's not torturing enough, constantly showing up in my dreams, always out of reach… So yeah, I'm just a little frustrated, sorry."

"I'm… I'm… I-I didn't know — "

"I know that. I know that and that's why I felt like utter trash. You didn't mean any of it and here I am throwing my disgusting fantasies on you."

"Don't say that," you plead and cup the side of his face, running your thumb repeatedly across his mole. "You're not trash, Seokmin. I wasn't thinking — I mean I didn't realize… I just — "

"Please," he interrupts suddenly, desperately begging. "Please tell me… if this… if this is going to be a spur of the moment, out of pity, and a one-time thing… please tell me you don't want this. That you don't want me — "

"I want to kiss you." 

You watch his body tremble before he takes a deep breath, smiling up at him as his eyes gradually open. They blink owlishly at you, nearly crossing in his attempt to scan your face if he really heard you correctly as you guide him by the jawline close to your lips.

"I want you, Seokmin."

To be honest, you've never really imagined what it'd feel like to kiss your best friend. The movies you've watched make it out to be magical, enchanting, and something out of a fairy tale. Sure, maybe they're not wrong but the majority of entertainment is the bad boy turning sweet or a soft boy remaining a gentleman.

Nothing's prepared you for awakening the beast in a good boy.

He kisses you with a ferocity that steals your breath from the get-go. A sensual clash of teeth, tongue, spit, love bites, and nips. Seokmin always had an enjoyable, pleasing tone to his voice and it sounds even better when he's grunting and groaning in the laidback battle for dominance.

Somehow, your clothes are merely disheveled and not ripped off despite continual tangling and grabbing at each other. Once again, you find yourself back on top as you gasp for air — having to push him away when he chases after you for more kisses. If you thought he was pretty before, he's even lovelier with shiny, swollen lips and a dazed, hungry look in his eyes.

Despite pouting at the sudden distance, the man astonishingly looks at you like you've hung the stars in the sky. As if he's never seen the ugly sides of you, your lowest and most embarrassing moments. His gaze trails from where you sit on his thighs to the rise and fall of your heaving chest to your blown-out pupils with such appreciation and awe that your cheeks are set aflame.

Although maybe you're just seeing a reflection of your own adoration. Running your hand down the toned length of one of his arms, you intertwine your fingers together. A smirk returns to your face as he squeezes back, distracted.

"So, can I see your abs now?"

Seokmin groans your name and chews on his lip, uncertain. You shrug and toy with the hem of your own shirt before decisively pulling it over your head. A blissed-out sigh escapes his mouth at the reveal.

Your bra is undone — thanks to his earlier mischief — and barely covers your breasts. Threatening to fall off at the slightest move, you pretend to protect what little modesty you might have and keep it in place with a free hand. 

"Tit for tat?" you tease.

He audibly gulps and you watch his Adam's apple bob. You wait patiently, letting him go at his own pace and back out if he wants. Though he does relent because he feels at comfort with you, revealing his gorgeous tan skin and upper body you hadn't seen in what feels like years.

"Omigod…" you gasp out and he cringes, upper body taut with nerves. "You've been hiding a six-pack away from the public for so long?"

"I — "

"I want to touch them."

"Why are you so obsessed with my abs?"

"'cause they're mythical. Like unicorns or… or Bigfoot."

"You're comparing me to a yeti?"

"Not yet…i!"

He rolls his eyes at the ridiculous pun. "I thought I was getting a 'tit for tat'?"

"Yeah," you nonchalantly slide off your loose bra and toss it somewhere on his bedroom floor. Seokmin doesn't even get to relish the bare sight of your tits for his own enjoyment because you're grumbling, "can't even show his best friend his fine ass abs," and he has to correct you.

"Maybe if I was your boyfriend, I'd show them to you all the time."

"Oh? Is that a promise? A threat? A distraction?"

"An offer. A suggestion even."

"It's pretty tempting," you play coy, "can I touch you if I say yes?"

"Only if I can touch you too."

"Then yes." Your pointer finger travels down the flexed crease of his skin to right above his belly button. "Can I see your dick now?"

"But I want… I'd like to… taste you."

"Later," you assure and daringly place a kiss above his waistband. Your hands tug at the belt when his hips stutter upwards. "Please?"

He's gone the moment you flutter your eyelashes at him and so are his ruined jeans. Discarded on the floor to join the growing number of other clothing when he says yes. 

Even Seokmin himself would admit he is indeed too soft for you but his cock certainly isn't. Your eyes nearly bug out when it flops against his stomach, angry red and leaking tears of precum. He grits his teeth at how much it aches, perfect jawline even more prominent. 

His self-esteem would have been dashed to pieces at the devastating frown on your pretty face but it's greatly inflated when all you can do is whimper out, "You're so big… "

"Yeah?"

Your best friend — no, now your boyfriend, you suppose — hisses when you blink at him. 

"There's no way you're gonna fit."

"Hah, 's never been a problem before." Nails dig into his thigh, the little show of possession at the mention of his previous partners wickedly giving Seokmin another ego boost. He's quick to try and appease you though by saying, "don't worry, babe… let me prep and taste you, I'll make it fit I promise and you'll feel good."

"Fuckin' sweet talker." You feel a hand reach out to temptingly slip under the band of your shorts. "Everything about you is always so sweet."

"'m sure you taste even sweeter." 

"Seokmin…" 

"Hm?" His touch grows bolder at the moan of his name, squeezing at the plumpness of your ass. "Will you please let me have a taste? Just wanna help you out." 

You won't be thinking I'm so sweet after this. 

Eager to touch him, you nod and start to take off your shorts but Seokmin is faster. Nearly tearing them off your body in excitement and somehow managing to position your bare lower body right where he wants it. 

Luckily, you're able to face his neglected cock. A shriek leaves your mouth, though, because the hardened tip of his tongue is searching for your clit, lathing and suckling on it when he does find it. 

You try to focus on your prize but it's difficult with the vigor he's attacking your throbbing, needy pussy. Seokmin holds you up high enough that he can leave occasional nips on the inner crease of your hips before harshly licking and sucking up your messy arousal. Shaking his head back and forth with an animalistic growl, all you can do is resort to pitiful kitten licks and slobbering mindlessly on just the side of his cock. 

The more you attempt to wrap your lips fully around the tip, the further down he brings you to his mouth until you're almost suffocating him. A brutal assault where you can only twitch your hips to which he agreeably grunts, gliding you across his open mouth ever so slightly. Unable to escape the throes of pleasure, not that you would want to — you give up and give in. 

Tears fill your eyes as your body convulses and shakes, staring longingly at his cock through bleary eyes. Seokmin's muffled moans as he gladly helps you ride out your orgasm with your fluttering hole clamping around his tongue barely registering in your ears. You feel like you're floating while underwater in the most delicious of ways. 

Seokmin manages to nudge you enough so he can catch his breath while waiting for you to come back to him. A fond smile on his lips when you're finally able to move and he helps you flop by his side. 

"Why on earth are you a pussy-eating pro?" 

"You keep complaining about things most people don't find fault in." 

"I wanted to suck the life out of you, not the opposite." You reach for his cock again but he stops you — again — and rubs the back of your hand consolingly while he wipes the wet mess you'd left on his face with a smirk like a badge of honor he takes pride in. "Lee Seokmin!" 

"Shhh, don't whine, baby. Almost there, I'll let you have my dick soon. Give it to you real good. Now that I've confirmed what a tight, good little pussy you have for myself, gotta make sure you're stretched out enough. Don't wanna hurt you." 

"It already hurts, 'm so empty, 'min." 

"Greedy," he snickers, knowing you're full of shit, and sits up. "After I just stuffed you with my tongue so well that you complained about it, now you want me again?" 

"Always want you. Always have. Didn't realize it before but it's true. 'm sorry, Seokkie, need you so bad though." 

"Lucky I like you so much. Now turn around, let me see that lovely ass of yours." 

You do as he says, clambering up on all fours and arching your back prettily, looking over your shoulder to see what he'll do next. 

The sight alone is a wet dream. He's licking his lips, brown eyes honed in on your puffy, seeping cunt until he's snapped out of the trance when he realizes you're watching him. He sticks out his tongue to pull a silly face and you shake your head in disbelief. 

A finger traces up your spine before it turns into his palm pushing down between your shoulder blades so your cheek is pressed into the pillows. You can just feel the heavy heat of his cock but he pulls away before you can savor it for too long. A constant tease that leaves you whining again in frustration and wiggling your hips enticingly, a futile effort. 

"I know you're desperate. 'm sorry, don't wanna cum too fast and disappoint you though." 

"You won't disappoint me." 

"Nope, I'll make it worthwhile. Promise. We can do whatever positions you want after this. I'd like to see you riding me like you do in my dreams, personally." Watching how you clench at his words, he chuckles. "Knew you'd like that too. Now, let's see…" 

He slips a digit inside your hole muttering, "There we go," and adds another. And another. Three fingers explore your gummy inner walls and he hums in contemplating tones before he begins scissoring motions to get your pussy to further open up. 

Your moans are muffled by the bed and Seokmin simply increases his pace to make them louder with a sneer of satisfaction you don't see. You do feel him kissing down the length of your spine, more love bites that make you squeal at each pinch. 

"So cute and perfect. What 'm I gonna do with you?" he asks and pretends to understand the unintelligible garble to his rhetorical question. "Yeah, that's right, babe. Fuck you even more stupid than you are now 'cause it's what you deserve." 

Retracting his fingers, licking them clean, and mumbling how pretty you are — then he's finally wrapping a veined hand around his even veinier cock to tease at your entrance. 

He plays with your wetness, coating his tip with it and making both your mouth and pussy drool. And god, does Seokmin relish the vision before him. 

You're everything to him and that thought alone makes him bite down on his lower lip, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. He doesn't want to fuck this up. Every muscle in his body tenses when he takes a deep breath and eases himself inside, enraptured with the way your soft pussy lips part and cling around his length to welcome him. 

When he glances up to check how you're doing, he has to reign himself back from exploding or thrusting insensitively all the way in. The way your eyes roll up, a stain of drool left on his blanket, and the feeble thank you's followed by a filthy series of moans — he lets out a string of curses that would make even a depraved whore blush out of shyness. 

"S'big, s'full," you hiccup, clenching and unclenching in rapid successions that has Seokmin wheezing, though he tries to comfort you. 

"'m not even all the way inside, sweetheart. Bear with me, babe. Breathe. I've got you." 

"Got me… hella fuckin' full."

"You can take it. I know you can." He pushes his hips forward a bit more. "There you go, sweetheart. Relax just a tiny bit… Yeah, that's it…" 

Praises fall from his lips and you sob at both the goddamn stretch and unfathomable pleasure. You already feel him buried in your gut reaching spots you didn't even know existed by the time he's almost bottomed out for his pelvis to press temptingly against your ass — you're pretty sure you can feel him in your lungs at this point.

"S'deep…!" 

"Feel so fucking good… d'ya need me to pull out a little, baby? You still with me?" 

You answer him by bravely using whatever strength — or more like the urge for him to split you open and take it all because you want to be as good as he's telling you that you are for him — and push yourself back so he's fully seated within your tight cunt. 

You're probably screaming if your raspy throat and ringing ears are anything to go by. He's panting and rubbing his forehead with a groan. 

"Fuck, what are you so hot for?" 

The air feels like it's been punched out of his lungs, the same way his cock is being suctioned and squeezed. In an effort to wrangle whatever control is left within himself, Seokmin focuses on your body and how it reacts. Laying over your arched back to press your bare bodies close together in an intimate fashion. 

You can feel his necklace and its cool touch on your burning skin. The recollection of never seeing him without it since gifting it to him reignites a possessive streak in you and has your pussy pulsing around him more fervently. Suddenly you long to have his mark engraved on you permanently, etched into your body and soul just like the inanimate object. 

It's almost a shame when he pauses to tug it free so it doesn't break and let it hang over your shoulder instead. Not that it matters much, for you'd only have a temporary imprint of a dog tag shape on your back. 

As if he can read your muddled mind (he probably can), Seokmin makes up for it in his concentration to delay his dizzy cloud of absolute unbridled lust. He's already left many physical reminders of his touch where you'll definitely be sore later scattered around your body and as a bonus — bites down where your neck meets your shoulder. 

(You have no idea how you'll explain the obvious teeth marks to your friends the next day but you know they'll know. Especially when Seokmin — the little shit that he is — shamelessly shows off the various marks you'll leave all over him later tonight.)

But you don't think about that right now, any and all thoughts consumed of him, him, and him. You're full. So full. Oh, how you ache to run your fingers across his gorgeous body the same way he's able to yours, sneaking a hand underneath to fondle at your breasts and tug at your nipples. You suppose that can wait, already inching toward another crashing orgasm when he's unable to stay still anymore and starts shallow, cautious thrusts.

"Mm, ah, 'min… Seok… min… "

"'m here baby, you're gonna cum for me already, aren't ya?" He pulls his dick out far enough to see the way your essence glistens and coats his length and then smoothly stuffs you full again. "Go on and cream on my cock, make me yours."

Shockingly you shake your head. "No, too soon!"

"S'kay, I know you can give me another one after. If you let go now, it'll feel even better after. You're still so tight, I can barely move."

You really can't believe you're about to climax so soon again. There's not really a choice to hold it off anyways, especially when his hand moves away from your tits and mercilessly rubs your clit. He could've just fucked your throat raw with how hoarse your voice is now with all the sounds he's drawn out of you.

As you recover from the fuzziness of a second orgasm, he'd taken out his cock that's basically gone numb at this point (he's not sure if that's a good thing or not), and appreciates the delectable view of how your hole has been stretched out perfectly in the shape of his cock to accommodate him so sweetly. It all screams I am Seokmin's and he fucking adores it. And you.

There's only one thing left to do. Paint you with the color white.

"You ready for me?" 

You breathlessly huff out a yes but honestly, you're unsure if you will be able to handle another peak without passing out. Seokmin soothes you, whispering that this will be the last one for this round accompanied by two chaste kisses on each of your shoulder blades. So wonderful and perfect, he reminds and suddenly you can do anything he asked of you.

Which is good because he's finally snapping his hips hard and fast with better ability, drilling into your warm, wet pussy he calls his that confirms that ownership itself with filthy noises of agreement and gushes of more arousal. You moan out a mix of yes, yours, and his name — growing so fucked out that when he asks you where you want him to cum, all you do is feebly bounce your asscheeks against his abs when he refuses to move.

"Shit, you gotta tell me now or I'll… fuck, I'll do it inside. I-I know you're on the pill but… "

"Please…"

"You'd look pretty with it all over your back but also spilling out of your pussy… "

"If you don't cum right now anywhere… I'll cry."

"You're already crying." His thumb brushes at the trail of tears that spilled over your eyelids.

"Seokmin…!"

"'m sorry, let me give you what you want."

His hips resume slamming at a rapid pace, hitting deep within that magic bundle of nerves without fail. Stars swim in your vision and the mind-numbing pressure twisting in your lower gut builds up without warning.

It's a silent scream this time and a peak that doesn't seem to end. As your body violently shudders and shakes for what feels like hours at its intensity, Seokmin's release is triggered. Gently thrusting as you spasm around him, milking his cock as it starts to fill you up with a comforting warmth. In a daze, he's forced out by the end of your explosive orgasm and watches with a slack jaw in awe.

He's managed to leave beautiful lines of white across your ass and back as intended. Though the bit he'd left inside of you is mostly expelled by you squirting and coating his thighs with your release, if he looks close enough, there are still globs of cream left around the outer lips of your cunt that has him groaning.

"This is better than what I've dreamt about."

"Of course. Real thing is always better."

"In this case, yes." 

"… Do you still think I'm sweet?"

"… Somehow, yes."

Seokmin laughs as you collapse flat against the bed. You need to clean up but both of you can afford to rest a little first. He lays down next to you on his side, bringing you into his arms and you immediately snuggle your face into his chest before fixing him with a serious gaze.

"I don't get it."

He stiffens in fear. "Wh-what?"

"You fucked your previous partners, right?"

"Um… most… of them… "

"Like this?"

"Uh… " he narrows his eyes. "What… what do you mean?"

"There's no way they would've wanted to let you go if you got a stroke game and stamina this good. Unless you were just too much of a beast in the sheets — which I could understand."

His arms tighten around you. "I'm sorry, did I go too hard on you? I just didn't wanna cum too fast."

"No, you're insane but it was… incredible. You're the unreal one here."

"Didn't expect that when you harassed me about my abs, huh?"

"I did not harass you and of course not, did you?"

"No, but… I'm glad it did. You… don't…  you don't regret it, do you?"

"No, why would I?" He breathes out a tiny sigh of relief which has you raising an eyebrow but you continue on. "I don't get why they didn't try harder to stick around. I mean you're perfect. In all aspects. I one-hundred-percent mean that."

"They weren't you, though. I'm sincere when I say you've always been the one. I was just afraid…" 

"You're a damn good actor, you know that. I had no idea."

Your favorite smile beams at you. "I did major in theater. And we're both kinda idiots."

You slap at his chest playfully and he covers your hand with his. "I like you too, you know that? Like really mean it when I say I do. Even if you just obliterated my fucking vagina out of existence."

"There's no way, I most certainly did not." He kisses your forehead. "'cause you still have to ride me like promised."

"I don't think I'll be able to."

Your eyes close, ignoring Seokmin's gasp of shock and protests about cleaning up. He can tell you're pretty exhausted and acquiesces, shifting you into a position more comfortable for you to be able to doze off for a bit.

But you take that opportunity to spring to life, sucking the nastiest hickey on his neck right above his silver chain. One that will take weeks to heal. He lets out a moan as you do it and when you back away, the atmosphere has heated up again.

"You're giving me a hard time," he points out with an eyebrow wiggle and you giggle. 

Urging him to roll over, you lug your aching limbs up and over so you can straddle his upper body. Adding more and more love marks and bites on his chest, neck, and arms. It's your turn to stake a hushed claim of mine whispered into his ears that you nip at. And he giggles, loving the attention you're showering him with.

His cock is stirring to life under your ministrations as is another pool of arousal swirling in your gut. Despite the hiss of oversensitivity and slight pain you both feel, you ease his length back inside. Nearly crying out because this new angle means he's stuffed in you even more, you don't know if he can fit until you're gasping in relief once you're successful.

He tentatively brushes his fingers against the bulge that appears in your lower tummy, wanton moans erupting from both of you at the gesture. It sends chills down your spine and you shiver.

"Gonna have to help me move, dunno if I have enough strength to make your dreams come true."

"S'kay, we have forever to act them out again and again," he reassures you which erases your pout. "You'll get used to me with enough practice."

"You think so?"

"Well, we can only test that theory to make sure."

You giggle as he pulls you in for a tender kiss by the back of your neck. "You're naughtier than I could've ever imagined."

"But you love it. You love me." His smug look only grows at your agreeing hum and when he flexes his abs. "Now, shall we see if all the work I put into my abs is worth it, babe?"

onlyseokmins: February 2023 ©

Taglist: @joshibambi @junhui-recs @pandorashbox @rubyscoups @woozluv @darlingvernon @charcharfairy @httpswonwoosglasses @yeosayang @buffhoshi @horanghae8star @noraehey @misssugarlips @tinkerbell460 @aceofvernons @dejavernon

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (PART TWELVE)

notes: i’m finally caught up on this series! just in time for the last regular season game!

previous: eleven

next: thirteen

y/ndevils00

liked by jackhughes, lhughes_06, and 72,810 others

y/ndevils00 if you’re allergic to sappiness, you may wanna keep scrolling tonight!

first of all, i’m so proud of ALL my boys tonight! all 5 of our goal scorers, the assisters, and the ones who just played their asses off tonight!

now is where it gets sappy!

my jacky: you broke a 22 year old franchise points record tonight. YOU did that. i always knew you would do it, and i’m so grateful that i was there to see it happen. you’re my (real) best friend, my love, my heart, the father to my cat, and the best hockey player i’ve ever seen (sorry boys). the talent that you possess is constantly leaving me awestruck, and i can’t wait to see what you achieve in the future. i can’t imagine the past 3 years without you, and i hope i never have to live a future without you either. i am so unbelievably proud of you. congratulations, my sweet boy. lil satan and i love you to pluto! <3

my lukey: my little (not so little) brother for the past 3 years. for some context, i met luke when he came to a devils game literally the same month i started working for the team. jack introduced me to him and lukey and i hit it off. i ended up sitting with him at the game, we exchanged numbers, and i adopted him as my own little brother very quickly. when luke was chosen in the 2021 draft, i cried tears of joy; but those tears were nothing compared to the ones i shed tonight. my baby brother made his nhl debut tonight and i couldn’t be happier for him. i look forward to seeing you absolutely kick ass and show everyone in this league how incredibly talented you are. congratulations on your debut, smush! i love you! <3

p.s. rasmus dahlin, i am in your walls. stay away from my boyfriend.

tagged jackhughes and lhughes_06

user did she just call luke “smush”?! that’s so cute, i need the reason asap

y/ndevils00 no real story behind it! we just smush/squish each others cheeks a lot! also, we watched finding nemo for our first facetime movie night and he took up calling me “squishy” like dory called the jellyfish.

john.marino97 they really do do it often. i’ve counted 12 times in the past 2 days

jackhughes i love you to pluto, sweet girl. thank you for being by my side to celebrate this achievement. i’m so thankful that i get to spend life with you ❤️

y/ndevils00 you’re so obsessed with me

jackhughes PARTS of you, for sure

y/ndevils00 you perv! there are innocent eyes present! @/lhughes_06

jackhughes i meant your heart!

lhughes_06 we have thin walls, i know you’re lying.

lhughes_06 @/y/ndevils00 also, why would you tag me?!

lhughes_06 thank you squishy! this was really sweet but can you stop crying now?

y/ndevils00 you didn’t say you love me, so no

lhughes_06 i love you!

y/ndevils00 well now it just seems forced. i hope you can sleep through my wails and tears

john.marino97 congrats hughesy! so happy for you! and congrats little hughesy! you did great!

jackhughes thanks bro!

lhughes_06 thanks man!

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes @/lhughes_06 yeah, you guys are so siblings

john.marino97 @/y/ndevils00 did you think they weren’t?

y/ndevils00 idk i was just kinda hoping that maybe ellen actually switched jack at birth and he’s not actually their son but i’m their daughter

jackhughes @/y/ndevils00 that’s the oddest way to say you love my family. you’re such a little nutcase, i love you

lhughes_06 @/y/ndevils00 you weren’t even born in florida like jack…

y/ndevils00 @/lhughes_06 you’re a brat

dawson1417 LFG BRO! SO PROUD OF YOU HUGHESY!

jackhughes THANK YOU BRO! APPRECIATE IT!

dawson1417 congrats luke!! smashed it tonight, dude!

lhughes_06 thanks dude! looking forward to playing more games with you!

trevorzegras HOLY SHIT CONGRATS BRO’S! KILLING IT! can’t wait to play against you @/lhughes_06

y/ndevils00 no.

jackhughes thanks bro! hope your game goes well!

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes no.

lhughes_06 thanks z! excited to kick your ass next season 🔥

y/ndevils00 @/lhughes_06 yes.

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras is officially banned from my comments until he apologizes to me. any more comments about or from him will be deleted.

trevorzegras what did i do now?

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras it’s more what you WON’T do.

trevorzegras is this seriously because i won’t dress up as ken to see the barbie movie with you?

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras blocking you. deleting your number. lasering off our matching tattoo.

user63 they have matching tattoos?!

y/ndevils00 @/user63 not anymore.

lhughes_06 @/user63 yeah it’s the moon and saturn

user84 am i the only one who thought she and trevor just genuinely didn’t get along?

y/ndevils00 @/user84 i feel like a lot of people think that, so i’m only gonna say this once so he can’t use it against me: trevor is actually one of my closest friends! i love him very much and i THOUGHT he loved me. if you scroll back to the summer on my account you’ll actually find loads of posts with him! we just have a funny way of showing our love but i’m actually very grateful to have a friend like him 🖤

trevorzegras 📸

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras i take it all back. i hate you, troll doll.

trevorzegras did you just insult my hair?! TAKE IT BACK!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras she literally called you a “brainless bimbo” and “the human equivalent of cat zoomies” the other day on the group call and your HAIR is where you cross the line?

_quinnhughes so proud of the both of you 💙 congrats guys

lhughes_06 thank you quinner ❤️ love ya bro

jackhughes thanks quinny! love ya ❤️

y/ndevils00 my baby boys <3

jamie.drysdale i wanna know what was running through your mind when jack looked straight at you when you took the arrival picture

jackhughes she yelled “shit! fuck! abort mission!” and dove behind the equipment boxes

lhughes_06 she scared the actual photographer and almost made them break their camera

user37 why does luke look like he has no emotions in the third slide?

y/ndevils00 it’s the hughes dead eye stare! they can all do it VERY well because they’re all emotionally dead inside <3

nicohischier proud of you guys! excited to play with you more @/lhughes_06 and can’t wait to see if you’ll break your own record next season @/jackhughes

jackhughes thanks cap!

lhughes_06 thank you cap!

y/ndevils00 he will!

[defectivevillain]

struck by your lightning, ch3

reader’s pronouns: he/him

summary: You decide to take advantage of the moment’s respite you’re given. “Okay. Hey, how are you?” You look up, only to find yourself staring at Kaminari Denki. The Kaminari Denki—the idol with over thirty million listeners and sold-out concerts across the world. You’re certain that you’re going to fumble your words several times in front of him. (You're a reporter working at the red carpet of a national award gala. You've convinced yourself that you're doing just fine. At least, you're doing fine until you interview Kaminari.)

here’s chapter one and chapter two [you’ll want to read these first, otherwise this won’t make much sense]

this is a chat-hybrid fic and the formatting was mostly made for ao3. it’s a lil wonky here, so here’s the ao3 version if you’d prefer to read that :)

since it's been a while, here's a refresh of what happened in ch1-2: The reader works at DoubleVision agency and is invited to interview artists at an award show. His interview and interaction with Kaminari quickly goes viral—both because of his flustered reaction at the end and the “Love ya”s exchanged at the end. The reader tries not to think too much of it, until he opens his phone to find a message from an unknown number who proves to be Kaminari himself. The two quickly grow to be friends through frequent text conversations. Kaminari reveals that he has your placard for the event and plans for the two of you to meet up together at the nearby coffee shop…

now, onto the story....

Tokyo Entertainment Fix | @tokentfix

Popstar Kaminari Denki Spotted with Reporter from Awards Gala at Coffee Shop! 

[ coffee1.jpg ] [ coffee2.jpg ] [ coffee3.jpg ]

89k comments | 486k retweets | 1.8m likes

____________

jj | @dendendenki

ARE Y’ALL SEEING THIS

409 comments | 3k retweets | 18.2k likes

i said what i said. | @ urfavescouldnever

In response to @dendendenki 

seeing what

5 comments | 21 retweets | 451 likes

jj | @dendendenki

In response to @ urfavescouldnever 

THIS [tokentfix.twt] [newsarticle.link]

61 comments | 1.3k retweets | 8k likes

i said what i said. | @ urfavescouldnever

In response to @dendendenki 

I’M SEEING IT NOW HOLY SHIT

4 comments | 808 retweets | 1.6k likes

_______

Direct Message 

You: have you seen…?

Kaminari Denki: the news article about us?

You: yeah

Kaminari Denki: ah yeah, i saw it

You: i’m sorry

Kaminari Denki: i’m sorry

Kaminari Denki: WHAT

You: i’m sorry

Kaminari Denki: no no no

Kaminari Denki: stop that immediately

You: y??

Kaminari Denki: bc it's not ur fault!!!

Kaminari Denki: if anything, i should be the one apologizing 

You: why??? you didn’t do anything

Kaminari Denki: NEITHER DID YOU

You: ah damn it i see what you did there

Kaminari Denki: damn right

Kaminari Denki: but srsly, i hope the article isn’t messing anything up for u

You: i was gonna say the same to you

Kaminari Denki: oh pls, this kind of shit happens to me all the time

Kaminari Denki: but seriously, are you doing ok?

You: yep all good

You: it’s just more funny than anything else

Kaminari Denki: is the thought of dating me really so bad :(

You: oh pls, that’s not what i meant

You: i just meant celebrity culture in general…  like they’re so obsessed with your relationship status and it’s kinda weird>??

Kaminari Denki: yeah… 

You: sigh

You: so glad i’m just a lowly reporter 🙏

Kaminari Denki: hey, don’t jinx it

Kaminari Denki: plus, haven’t you looked on twt recently

Kaminari Denki: fans are shipping us together

Kaminari Denki: pretty sure there are stan accounts dedicated to you now

Kaminari Denki: not that i would know

Kaminari Denki: or follow them

You: fr??

Kaminari Denki: fr fr

You: deadass?

Kaminari Denki: on god

You: i hate us

Kaminari Denki: same

__________

Thankfully, that article about Kaminari and you doesn’t actually change much. You go about business as usual, albeit with a strange sense of guilt prickling along your skin when your mind is unoccupied. You throw yourself into your work and try to bury the emotions, but they are never truly extinguished. 

Your conversations with Kaminari are far rarer now, especially as the both of you get even busier. Kaminari is working on releasing his next album and you’re pitching new stories and writing to old acquaintances for features. Even though you throw yourself into work, you still find your thoughts returning to Kaminari. Your relationship with him is currently undefined—your meeting the other day felt like a date, but neither of you acknowledged it. You would love to be more than friends with Kaminari, but you also know that someone as well-known as him doesn’t exactly have the freedom to pursue a relationship and a music career at the same time. Resigned, you slowly push away thoughts of Kaminari until you think you get a good handle on your emotions. 

Until everything you try to suppress comes roaring back.

___________

 Kaminari Denki | @kaminaridenki

24 hours. [STATIC.jpg]

203k comments | 1.2m retweets | 4m likes

____________

Kaminari Denki to Release New Album Tomorrow

Arts—Music

2 min ago ᐧ By Janet Drews

Kaminari Denki, award-winning musical artist and popular culture icon, recently announced the release of his new album on Twitter. The Tweet earned over four million likes and 200,000 comments. Listeners are clearly looking forward to the occasion, as #KaminariDenki, #STATIC, and #DenkiAlbum top the Twitter Trending page (#1, #2, and #4, respectively). 

Some fans speculate the new album will be an ode to the rumored relationship between Kaminari and the DoubleVision reporter who interviewed him at the award gala [interview.mp4]. The interaction between the singer and the reporter quickly went viral following live coverage of the event. Digital citizens across the platform searched for explanations for the exchange, and Kaminari fans such as user @heyheyh3y discussed their red-carpet conversation.  

stream lightning by kaminari! | @heyheyh3y okay but is it just me or was there some tension there…  [interview.jpg]: A screenshot of Kaminari standing next to you during the interview.   907 comments | 66k retweets | 256k likes

This album will be a bit different from his previously released music, Kaminari said to Vogue Japan mere days ago. The artist made no mention of a significant other who could bear influence on his new music, despite the fact that he was seen with the DoubleVision reporter at EspressoBeanz but a few days ago—a cafè conveniently located near both DoubleVision agency and UA Entertainment. However, other Kaminari fans, like users @electrstatic and @staticshockwave, weren’t convinced:

⚡⚡| @electrstatic y’all are making such a huge deal about this whole reporter business, as if the same thing hasn’t happened time and time again with literally anyone kaminari interacts with 31 comments | 23 retweets | 700 likes electric boogaloo  | @staticshockwave In response to @electrstatic  THANK YOU. like, when he first got Arata as a manager, everyone was going batshit crazy about how they were dating… and they weren’t. and the way anyone breathing in Kaminari’s direction is assumed to be dating him… it’s crazy 0 comments | 8 retweets | 32 likes

Either way, fans across the world are looking forward to the release of new music from Kaminari.  His new album, STATIC, will be released on Apple Music, Spotify, Soundcloud, and assorted digital platforms at 3 p.m. JST (approximately 10 a.m. UTC). 

__________

Direct Message

You: heyyy, how are you feeling

You: the album releases tmrw, right?

Kaminari Denki: very nervous 

Kaminari Denki: and yes, t minus 20 hrs

You: awesome!

You: and rly? why?

Kaminari Denki: well… i worked hard on it, and i want ppl to like it

You: okay 

You: will you be disappointed if your fans don’t like it?

Kaminari Denki: a little, yeah

You: but why do you write music? do you write it for them or for yourself? 

Kaminari Denki: 

You: sorry, that sounds patronizing…

Kaminari Denki: no, you’re right

Kaminari Denki: i think i needed to hear that

You: i mean, you clearly worked very hard on it. i’m sure everyone listening will recognize that.

Kaminari Denki: i hope so

You: they will 😠 and if they don’t, fuck em

Kaminari Denki: damn right

Kaminari Denki: thanks <3

You: ofc! <3

You: i have to go eat dinner, talk soon?

Kaminari Denki: yep,, enjoy your meal

You: tyyy haha

___________

Direct Message

Kaminari Denki: hypothetically speaking

Sero Brain Cells: ok hello to you too

Sero Brain Cells: also bitch do i look like a scientist

Kaminari Denki: hYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING

Kaminari Denki: does a “<3” mean someone is hopelessly in love with me

Sero Brain Cells: jfc

Kaminari Denki: is that a yes

Sero Brain Cells: ur so fuckin whipped

Kaminari Denki: SHUT UP

Kaminari Denki: I TRUSTED YOU

Kaminari Denki: i came to you in my time of weakness

Kaminari Denki: and this is how you repay me

Sero Brain Cells: dude, you gotta tell him at some point

Kaminari Denki: ik…

Sero Brain Cells: and even if you don’t, he’ll probably figure it out soon

Kaminari Denki: wdym

Sero Brain Cells: ur new album. 

Kaminari Denki: what about it?

Sero Brain Cells: half of those songs are so clearly about him

Kaminari Denki: nahhhh no way i kept it hella ambiguous

Sero Brain Cells: ambiguous, huh

Kaminari Denki: shut up

Kaminari Denki: … do you really think he’ll notice

Sero Brain Cells: well, i’m not sure

Sero Brain Cells: you both seem a lil oblivious, so it may be fine

Kaminari Denki: hey 😭

Sero Brain Cells: all love

Sero Brain Cells: but also get ur shit together u raging homo (affectionate, non-derogatory)

Kaminari Denki: oh pls, as if you haven’t been pining for shoto for six business years

Sero Brain Cells: HEY

Sero Brain Cells: …HEY

Sero Brain Cells: HEY 💀

Sero Brain Cells: ik ur stressed rn so i’ll let that slide 🤨

Kaminari Denki: ur right, i’m so anxious

Kaminari Denki: sry for taking it out on u, bro 

Sero Brain Cells: it’s ok bro

Sero Brain Cells: wanna get ur ass kicked in mariokart?

Kaminari Denki: do i want to kick ur ass in mariokart? absolutely

Sero Brain Cells: we’ll see about that

Kaminari Denki: damn right we will

___________

Kaminari Denki | @kaminaridenki

fucking godly at mariokart [mariokart.jpg]

19k comments | 97k retweets | 347k likes

Sero | @serofucks

In response to @kaminaridenki 

oh fuck all the way off, you had steering assist on

3k comments | 45k retweets | 228k likes

@kamisimpsimp

In response to @serofucks 

OOOOP

47 comments | 430 retweets | 1.4k likes

surprised pikachu face | @kamipikakami

In response to @kamisimpsimp 

gagged and gooped

31 comments | 338 retweets | 2.3k likes

alex | @kaminarunaronari

In response to @kaminaridenki 

what really concerns me is that you main lakitu

2k comments | 134k retweets | 765k likes

stream lightning by kaminari! | @heyheyh3y

In response to @kaminaridenki 

here we are, anxiously awaiting the new album, and this mf is playing mariokart

21 comments | 208 retweets | 809 likes

@kamisimpsimp

In response to @heyheyh3y 

as one does!

0 comments | 46 retweets | 665 likes

___________

Direct Message 

You: heyyyy

You: it’s release dayyyyyy

Kaminari Denki: when you when you when you whennnnnnnnnnnnnnfdshfkdjs

You: :0

You: looking forward to it!

Kaminari Denki: :3

(Nine Hours Later) 

Direct Message 

You: congratulationsssss!!!!

You: i’ll try to find the time to listen to STATIC soon!!!

Kaminari Denki: thanks :)

___________

Kaminari stares down at his phone, watching as fans discuss the new album. He has the album on shuffle in the background as he tries to brainstorm some choreography. Kaminari has absolute faith in the talented choreographers that he works with—but he just feels like he needs to do something to combat the restless energy surging through him.  

The feedback on the album so far has been overwhelmingly positive, yet he’s still nervous—as if he’s still waiting for a reaction from someone. Shaking his head, he tries to focus on the choreography he’s creating. But that plan quickly backfires. Within moments, his phone buzzes—breaking him out of his thoughts. Kaminari freezes and immediately grabs it from his pocket, heart thudding rhythmically in his chest as he unlocks his phone and goes to his messages. There’s a series of texts from you:

You: ok, i have time to listen, now! You: gonna listen as i make dinner!!!

Kaminari sighs, trying to calm his racing heart. He doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. Taking a deep breath, he puts his phone back in his pocket and decides to practice some of the choreography for his other songs. Even amidst the music running through the space and the dance moves that seemed etched onto his very skin, Kaminari still can’t help but think of you. 

___________

Meanwhile, you’re just getting home from work. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been looking forward to listening to Kaminari’s new album for a bit now. It’s especially thrilling to think that you can discuss it with him afterward—hell, he even seems to be awaiting your feedback. The thought is exciting and nerve-wracking in equal measures. 

You decide to change out of your work clothes before starting dinner, so that you don’t have to worry about staining anything. Then, you grab your Bluetooth speaker and place it on the kitchen counter, before pulling up Kaminari’s newest album and tapping on the first song. Immediately, a beautiful, twisting melody reaches your ears and you swear you feel your shoulders begin to relax. You busy yourself with preparing dinner while his voice fills the space. 

Safe to say, the album is incredible. You really like each song you’ve listened to so far—and have found yourself saving each of them to various playlists. Even if you hadn’t spoken with Kaminari throughout the period he was working on the album, you would be able to tell that he put a lot of effort into it. As you expected, that effort shows through in each and every song.  

His songs are rather hard-hitting, emotionally speaking. The fifth song, traces of you , makes you freeze in place. You have to rewind to listen to one particular portion of the song again: 

…and I stand aside 

as you’re washed away  

with the ebbing tide 

I’m so afraid 

of falling out of love 

Sometimes I look up  

at the blinding black night 

and the stars seem to whisper  

your name in the air 

I feel a shiver roll down my spine 

I remember your hand in mine, 

and I’m just so afraid.  

You don’t know how long you stand at the kitchen counter, letting the lyrics slip into your ears and down your skin. This song is so raw and vulnerable. You feel the sudden urge to close your eyes. For a moment, you can almost trick yourself into thinking Kaminari is singing to you, that these lyrics are meant for you and you alone. It’s a foolish thought, but you can’t quite push it away. You feel your eyes burning with unshed tears as you try to picture Kaminari writing down these lyrics. What was he feeling, in those moments? Were his eyebrows furrowed in concentration? Were his hands stained from the still-drying ink of his pen? Was he tapping his foot along to an unheard, not-yet-created melody?  

Something blares loudly, tearing you from your reverie. You blink and look around the room, gasping when you realize you completely neglected the pan on the stove. The pan is smoking and you recognize that insufferable sound to be the fire alarm. You’re quick to turn off the burner. The fire isn’t extinguished. Panicking, you race to one of the kitchen cabinets to grab baking soda. Baking soda, quickly , your mind is practically yelling. You grab the baking soda and haphazardly spread it over the grease fire, relief coursing through you when you see the flames begin to die down. When the fire finally subsides, you look down at your attempt at dinner, only to find a charred pile. You shake your head in disbelief and clean up your mess, before grabbing your phone and skipping to the next song. 

You don’t make the mistake of attempting to make dinner as you listen to the rest of the album, which is a rather smart move, because the remaining songs are lyrical masterpieces. There isn’t a single song on the album that you don’t like. A small smile growing on your face, you open your messaging app. 

___________

Direct Message

You: i love the new album holy shit

Kaminari Denki: really?

You: yesssss omfg absolutely 

Kaminari Denki: akjdfkjfskdjfsdlkf

Kaminari Denki: which track is your favorite? for research purposes 

You: research purposes? lol

You: my favorite is definitely traces of you 

Kaminari Denki: ah, that’s one of my favorites, too!

Kaminari Denki: and lemme just say: i’m so happy you listened! it means the world to me, so thank you <3

You: no need to thank me—just doing my due diligence as a friend! besides, the new album is incredible!

You: and i promise i’m not just saying that to be nice,,, it’s clear you put a lot of effort into it. 

Kaminari Denki: ahhh stawp ur gonna make me all flustered xD

You: hahaha

You: i do have one critique, though

Kaminari Denki: ooooh ok i’m listening 👀

You: traces of you needs to come with a warning

Kaminari Denki: for what? shit how did i miss that

You: “warning: will distract you from cooking dinner and nearly burn your home down”

Kaminari Denki: wait

Kaminari Denki: you did notttttt 💀

You: I DID

You: i was so distracted i forgot i was making dinner

Kaminari Denki: omfgggg that’s insane

Kaminari Denki: i’ve heard a lot of things about my music, but never that it almost burned a house down and ruined dinner 😭

You: lmfaooo 

Kaminari Denki: i’m so sorry 😭😭

You: it’s not your fault, holy shit

You: don’t feel guilty!!!! if it makes you feel better, it was completely worth it

Kaminari Denki: hmph 

You: i wasn’t rly that hungry anyways

Kaminari Denki: hm hm hm hm hmmmmmm

You: whatttt

Kaminari Denki: nothing i gtg

Kaminari Denki is offline. 

You: o….kay? …bye?

___________

You exit out of your messaging app and start rummaging through your pantry for something to eat. Nothing sounds very good right now. You don’t have much food left, either—you’re in desperate need of a trip to the grocery store. You’re sure you can make time to go tomorrow, but as for right now… you’re stuck making do with what you have. Truthfully, you’re tempted to order something—but it’s already getting late and you don’t want to wait even longer for a meal when you’re already hungry. 

You walk out into your living room and flop onto the couch, trying to distract yourself from the hunger gnawing at your stomach. Admittedly, your abrupt conversation with Kaminari is weighing heavily on your mind too. You eventually scroll through YouTube mindlessly, if only to keep yourself distracted. You’re not sure how long you sit there before there’s a sudden ringing sound. You frown, wondering if you’re hearing things. 

The sound occurs again, and you realize that someone must be ringing your doorbell. Squinting in confusion, you head to your front door and peek through the peephole—surprised to find a familiar blond singer standing on your porch. You quickly unlock your front door and swing it open. “Kaminari?” You ask, convinced you’re seeing things. You hadn’t made plans to hang out today, and you assumed that your conversation died off because he was busy. 

“Hey,” Kaminari smiles. He’s wearing a sweatshirt and jeans with a pair of colorful sneakers. His bangs are clipped back and his hair is almost glowing in the dim light of your porch. There’s a sheepish smile on his face that is endlessly endearing. “I heard you missed dinner.” He smiles, holding up a few bags of takeout from a restaurant the two of you had spoken about before. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quickly, hoping that you didn’t make him feel as if he had to provide you with dinner. It wasn’t his fault you were distracted. 

“I wanted to,” he says with a smile, dispelling your doubts. “I think I remember your order, but…” He trails off, averting his eyes with an embarrassed expression. “I got a few different things, just in case.”

“I could kiss you,” you breathe relievedly, unaware of the flush that adorns Kaminari’s cheeks as he processes that remark. You motion for him to come in, before locking the front door and showing him to the dining room. You leave him to unbag the food, while you grab plates and utensils. “Do you want anything to drink?” You ask from the kitchen.

“What do you have?” Kaminari asks casually. 

“Water, soda, sparkling water…” You trail off, looking through your fridge for anything else you may have laying around. 

“Water’s fine,” he smiles. You roll your eyes and grab another glass, filling up waters for you both before returning to the table. Kaminari wasn’t kidding when he said he bought a few different things—as it’s all laid out on your table, it looks as if he bought half the menu. You return to the kitchen and grab the plates and utensils you gathered earlier, before heading back. Unsurprisingly, the pile of food on the table doesn’t get any smaller. 

“This is a lot of food,” you remark cautiously. Realistically speaking, there’s no way you’ll be able to finish all of this, and you feel slightly guilty. 

“Oh, yeah,” Kaminari nods, “I figured we would have enough for leftovers, and stuff.” You nod in agreement, before busying yourself with making a plate. 

“So,” you say, once the two of you are settled in and have begun eating. You didn’t realize just how hungry you were until you took a bite of the food. There’s an inexplicable tension hovering over the air, and you’re unsure if you’re imagining it or not. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Kaminari responds with a nod. “Really good,” 

“Good!” You smile, taking another bite. “Are you topping the charts already?”

He smiles bashfully, poking at his food with a fork. “I think so… yeah.” He’s so humble, and you can’t help but think it’s rather admirable. 

“That’s so cool,” you remark, “I’m so happy for you.” 

“Thanks, I’m happy, too.” He smiles briefly, before looking back down at his food. The happiness in his expression almost seems to flicker for a moment, and the grin on his lips suddenly looks strained. You frown. At first, you want to put that sight down to your imagination; but when the silence stretches on for a while and he doesn’t make a move to continue speaking, you decide to acknowledge it. 

“Are you sure?” You blurt out, before you can contemplate the consequences of speaking so freely. Kaminari looks at you in confusion and you grimace. “Sorry. It’s just- You seem a little… off, I guess.”

“I’m good,” he reassures you with a small nod. The gesture is not very convincing. 

“Okay,” you say, not wanting to push him further. If there’s something he doesn’t want to talk about, you’re not going to force it out of him. After a few moments, your conversation returns to normal. You still have a lingering suspicion that there’s something weighing on his mind, but you decide to forget about it. 

Overall, your dinner is pleasant. You get the chance to ask Kaminari a few questions about the album, and you really enjoy seeing his eyes sparkle as he goes into in-depth explanations of the meanings behind his songs. It feels like you’re seeing a side of him that very few people get to see—but you don’t want to flatter yourself. 

Kaminari offers to help you with the dishes when you’re both finished eating, but you quickly refuse and promise him you’ll finish them quickly. You run water over the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, promising yourself to run it later that night. When you return to the table, you’re surprised to find Kaminari staring ahead with a troubled expression on his face. His hands are clasped on the table and his lips are pulled in a thin line. 

Before you can even begin to ask, he’s filling the silence. “You were right,” Kaminari admits. He sounds a little strange—almost as if he’s nervous. You stare at him expectantly. “There is something bothering me.”

The tortured expression on his face is a bit worrying. “Well, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” You feel the need to remind him. While you’re concerned about what could be distressing him, you know that sometimes, it’s too painful to talk about those types of things. 

But Kaminari surprises you with his response. “I want to,” he reassures you. You watch as he pushes himself to his feet and stares down at the table, running a finger along the wood. “I’ve just… been trying to figure out how to say it.” 

“Take your time,” you say. “I’m not in a rush.” Kaminari nods appreciatively. 

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to hear, in all honesty. But what he says next feels entirely unreal. “When I first met you, I was attracted to you,” Kaminari chokes out, looking at the ceiling as if nervous to meet your eyes. “I sort of expected it to fizzle, because… well, I didn’t know you all that well. But once we started talking more, I realized that my feelings weren’t going away. While I just knew you as the alluring reporter before, I now knew you as this… this incredible person.” You stare at him in shocked silence. 

“You’re so… You’re kind, smart, and passionate. You have a wicked sense of humor and I always look forward to hearing from you. I…

“I’m not sure how familiar you are with me and my career, but… Truthfully, I hit a bit of a rough spot. My last album was a few years ago and I was convinced that I wouldn’t be able to write anything new. But then I met you, and got to know you, and all of a sudden, I was writing all the time. 

“Suddenly, I had an entire album—filled with songs that I wrote while thinking about you. And I didn’t know what to do. I had already tried to bury my feelings for you, and it clearly hadn’t worked at all. I assumed you didn’t feel the same as I did. And I’m still not sure, of course.

“But when you sent those messages earlier… I felt something snap in me. It was like, one moment I was staring down at my phone, and the next, I was walking into that restaurant you were talking about.

“And tonight, I’ve been trying to keep it together… But it’s been nearly fucking impossible. I see you across the table and I can’t help but think that this is how I want to spend the rest of my life—sneaking glances at you, and hearing about your day at work…

“Not to mention, the whole Sero thing… It was stupid. But when you said you liked his music, my heart just dropped. I felt like… I don’t know. I felt like I lost you. Even though you weren’t mine to lose.” 

“Anyway,” Kaminari says, shaking his head before meeting your eyes. He looks simultaneously more relieved and more nervous than before. “I just had to get that out. And now we can pretend I never said anything.” He shakes his head and fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. 

You’re still reeling from everything he just said, but you’re quick to dismiss his assumptions. “What?” You exclaim. “No, Kaminari, I have feelings for you too,” you say. He stares at you with wide eyes. “It’s been so fun getting to know you. You’re just… you’re so bright and energetic, passionate, and good-hearted… I was so nervous when I first met you, because it was my first time ever being on a red carpet… but you made me feel more confident, just by being yourself.”

“And when I got distracted listening to your music earlier… It was because I was thinking of you, and thinking that, somehow, you could be singing just to me. That you could have written that song… just for me. And I know it’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid,” Kaminari interjects, before you can spiral into further self-deprecation. “I just told you, I was thinking of you when I wrote them. All of them.” The lyrics flicker before your eyes at rapid speed, as you remember all the words that felt too vulnerable to ever be yours. You think about how you felt as you were cooking dinner—that tight feeling in your chest as you pretended that everything was fine, as you pretended that you were okay with the idea of Kaminari writing those songs while thinking of someone else. Before you can contemplate your next move, you’re surging forward—and Kaminari is too. Your hands cradle his cheeks as you kiss him, and he tugs you impossibly closer with his hands on your waist. His touch sends pleasant shivers down your spine. 

“I guess the fans were right, huh,” you remark with amusement once you break apart. 

“There’s a first time for everything,” Kaminari says, his eyes gleaming. He takes a deep breath, his hands still latched on your waist (as if he doesn’t want to let you go). Indecision draws his lips together into a flat line. “Are you sure you want to do this? Being in a relationship with me… It’s going to be different. I- I can’t pretend that I have any privacy whatsoever, or a super accommodating schedule, or-”

“Of course I want to do this,” you immediately say, before he can continue. “More than anything.” 

Kaminari’s hands migrate up your shoulders and towards the nape of your neck. He leans closer until your foreheads are touching. “I’m just so afraid.” He whispers, so quietly that you nearly convince yourself you didn’t hear it. (The stars seem to whisper your name in the air… I feel a shiver roll down my spine, I remember your hand in mine, and I’m just so afraid). You pull him into a hug.  

“Me too,” you admit in a breath against his shoulder. Kaminari mutters something into your shoulder, but it’s incomprehensible. “Hey, if we can get five and a half million people to watch us stumble through an interview, I think we can do this.” The singer huffs a laugh and pulls back, his hand rising to your cheek and his thumb running across your skin. There’s a smile on his face—one of unmistakable fondness and affection. You lean forward to break the distance between you once more, a euphoric feeling settling in your chest and a smile growing on your face.

endnotes:

i really snuck Seroroki in there, mhwhahaha.

this took so fuckin long to format on here (I had to format it AGAIN despite already devoting time to doing that on ao3), pls show some love if you enjoy it... i'm begging

thanks for reading! <3

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[thebus1boys]

bitch please 😭

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daddy's girl ♡ lh x reader

summary: in which your daughter is a daddy's girl through and through!

yn.hamilton

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yn.hamilton babygirl said she wants to match with daddy today so who am I to say no? 💖 (lewis was not allowed to put her on his board :) and you never will honey)

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ha44ilton it's the passive aggressive note to lewis in the caption for me 😭😭

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yn.hamilton when i tell you i MELTED

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lewishamilton

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lewishamilton eternally grateful for all the time I get to spend with my two girls before the beginning of another exciting season 🙏🏾 here's to many more vacations with my little family

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yn.hamilton your caption 😭 i love you both so much, lewis

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ha44ilton that caption bro BRO

susie_wolff enjoy it!

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yn.hamilton lewis fell asleep next to roscoe on the couch yesterday because ms. sunshine wouldn't go to bed until after he read her two stories 🤕 daddy's girl through and through!

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mercedesamgf1 so that's why he was tired during the debrief 😉

yn.hamilton he'll be better rested next time, promise!

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yn.hamilton wifey duties 💫💞

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ha44ilton absolutely OBSESSED with her repping Lewis from head to toe

mercmaids she's giving all of us if we were married to lewis lbr

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f1 amazing support!

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sbinotto imagine all you are is the wife of someone 💀 I'd rather die

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lewishamilton my biggest fan ❤

yn.hamilton always babe 👊🏽

4405 naur it's the fist bump for me 🤣

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lewishamilton today might have only been enough for a third place, but I'm still grateful for all the hard work the team has put into the car this weekend. a win will be in our future but right now I'm happy to see all the time I get to spend with my princess as the biggest win of them all.

thank you to everyone that cheered for us this weekend! your support means the world 🙏🏾

📸 yn.hamilton

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mercedesamgf1 incredible performance on track today! we'll get them next week 👊🏼

georgerussell63 we'll get that w soon, mate!

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goatmilton you were SO close this weekend

mercmaids bro BRO how do u expect us to be normal after that caption 😭😭😭

cullen_angela onto the next one 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

susie_wolff cherish all the time you get with her while she's still so young!

yn.hamilton every day I get to experience you with her is a gift and I can't wait for the sun to rise on another one of those days my love 💕

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ha44ilton I'm melting fr fr stop it!!!!

[jhopezwrld]

omg can i request an ateez or stray kids reaction to finding out their s/o having nipple piercings 🤭🤭🤭 i’m giggling

oh i hear sum purring…. IM DOING BOTH CUS IM A SLUTTTTT🫶🏽 ateez next hehe

warnings: smutty, mentions of consensual recording/picture taking, sorta pervy!changbin

chan: oh the minute he sees them he’s busting in his pants like he’d be so obsessed with them i just know it. he’d immediately ask if he could touch them and when you give him permission just know his hands (and his mouth) will not leave your tits alone until you physically cannot take it anymore. he’d also very hesitantly ask if you’d let him take a picture of them so he could look back on it every time he’s away from you. plz do him one better and let him cum on them and record it he would probably die of happiness. your nipple piercings are now his number one obsession.

minho: oh i just know he’s planning on how he’s gonna buy u all kinds of pretty and sparkly nipple rings so that he can admire how pretty they look while he tit fucks you bc there’s no way that ISNT happening. he’s probably gonna sit u in his lap and just play with them cus he’s meanie and a tease but also bc he’s so infatuated with them. he will never leave them alone honestly he’s so obsessed with them he’d probably accidentally (or not so accidentally) tell the boys ab them and now everyone knows u got pierced nips and jeongin can’t even look you in the eyes 😭

changbin: binnie is already such a simp for u but once he sees ur piercings he probably falls a little more in love with u i’m not even joking. i just know he’d be OBSESSED with them and would think ab them 24/7. he’d always try to convince you to go braless just so he can admire how pretty the rings look thru ur shirt. he’d probably keep it super cold in his room just so ur nipples are constantly poking out of ur shirt and he can just..stare at them. sorry idc changbin is an undercover pervert like he won’t say anything to u and will try to hide his nasty intentions but is secretly getting off on how oblivious you seem

hyunjin: loves them but is lowkey mad u didn’t tell him when u got them done bc he probably would’ve gone with u to get one too LMAO. he’d 100% wanna draw you nude as soon as he sees them tho like he just thinks they look so pretty on u and that u look so perfect and he just needs to sketch you so he can memorialize the image forever. i lowkey see him just playing with them casually too like he’d 100% stick his hand down ur shirt to wiggle the little bar or twist your ring in circles during a movie night or something (it always leads to sex btw).

jisung: boy would be in disbelief. he’s the ‘pics or it didn’t happen’ kinda mf but if u actually send him a picture oh he’s freaking OUT! immediately removing himself from whatever area he’s in so he can go into the bathroom and jerk off real quick. i feel like jisung is so easy to rile up so probable just the mere thought of you + nipple piercings has him shifting around uncomfortably and adjusting himself in his pants. he’d fly home as soon as he could and just pounce on u. like he’d literally yank you into his lap and pull your shirt down to see them. as soon as he gets his hands/mouth on them i’m like 90% sure he cums in his pants

felix: he’s so sweet about it omg. as soon as he finds out he’s asking u all kinds of questions like ‘did it hurt?’ ‘are they healed’ or ‘did you get both or just one?’. felix is a shy bby so he probably won’t ask to see them himself but the way his eyes keep flicking from your face to your chest makes it so obvious so plz just lift up ur shirt for him. he’d be in AWE like almost drooling type shit. he’d also be too nervous to touch them himself so you’d either have to reassure him that it’s ok and he can cop a feel, or you’d have to physically grab his hands and put them on your tits. he’d be so gentle while touching them and would probably try to hide his boner but his lil whines make it pretty clear how he’s feeling.

seungmin: he’s so annoying he’d probably try to act so nonchalant ab it. ‘oh u got ur nipples pierced? cool.’ but on the inside he’d be freaking out. he wouldn’t ask to see them not bc he’s shy but bc he doesn’t want u to know he’s extremely excited ab this so he’ll wait for u to show him urself but once u do hoooooo boy he’s going to TOWN on u so prepare urself. dom seungmin mode activated u are not leaving that bed for days i’m telling u. he’s trying all types of positions so he can see how pretty they sparkle in the light while he fucks you. when you get a package in the mail with like 10 different kinds of nipple rings don’t look at seungmin bc it definitely wasn’t him (it was)

jeongin: went back & forth on this one but honestly i think he'd be so nervous about even looking at them. he only noticed because it was particularly cold in his dorm and you had decided to forgo a bra since you were spending the night. he doesn't even know how to react when he realizes, but the crimson blush creeping up his neck and cheeks, and the fact that he cannot look at your face make it pretty clear that he noticed them. i feel like innie is so shy when it comes to anything remotely sexual so do not expect him to be the first to mention your piercings. instead he will silently suffer and would probably go to bed with a boner unless you help him out (plz help him he's so hard its painful).

[newnlovesjennie]

one piece au where literally nothing went wrong everyone is alive and happy hc's

nami

belle mere is still alive obvi

the attack on her island was less of an attack and more of like a alliance? like the fishman pirates pulled up and were like hey we need a hideout can we pls use ur island. and they were like yeah offer us protection and in turn u can use our island! no violence no blood nothing!!

in this au fisher tiger is still alive and the fishman pirates are still what he envisioned before his death, so he’s the captain, not arlong

speaking of arlong he’s like hella toned down. he got the jinbei affect in the sense that koala changed him and showed him humans aren’t all bad. yeah sure he’s more radical and unhinged than the other pirates but he’s just like the weird conservative uncle you tolerate at thanksgiving not a real threat

hachi and nami bonding!!!

nami never develops an obsession with money, she gets to put her full effort into map making and exploring that talent

she makes maps for the fishman pirates completely out of her own free will

she joins the movement for fishman human equality woohoo!!!

yeah in this au that movement actually gets taken seriously instead of played off and the fishmen actually make progress in equality 

koala visits sometimes! koala and nami bonding time!!!

law

doflamingo is toned down like 1000% in this au he’s not a family killer in this one he’s just odd

like seriously idk how the logistics would work but maybe somehow after the whole “doffys family becomes human” thing the humans don’t persecute him? so in turn he just kinda is pretentious and misses being rich instead of holding a particular grudge against humanity?

either way he’s also just the weird conservative uncle you see at thanksgiving 

corazon is number one dad ever did he offer law henny for his 8th birthday yes does he know how to do laundry or cook not at all but he is trying his best!

LAW BABY FIVE AND BUFFALO AS COUSINS. PLEASE!!!! dellinger too maybe idk if he’s a kid or not tho

the executives like trebol diamante whatever the fuck also aren’t as evil either they just tryna do their own thing yk just black market deal in peace but no unnecessary killing 

donquixote family stays pirates instead of going and trying to take a whole kingdom (took a shit ton of convincing for doffy to accept that)

the whole pirate warlord thing gives doffy enough prestige he don’t need to be a king necessarily 

law eats the op op fruit, doffy tries to get him to make him immortal, corazon slaps him, doffy changes his mind

(i am taking so many liberties in this au omg)

zoro

kuina didn’t fucking fall down a flight of stairs!! yippee!!!

their whole competition abt who will be the greatest swordsman is still on

they venture outside the dojo and become pirates

both bounty hunters maybe

kuina is so so gay

hear me out…. kuina x tashigi? LET ME COOK

yeah zoros just there

they find their way to mihawks island without the whole kuma blasting zoro to a random island thing

they beg mihawk to train them but he’s like wtf get out of my house but they show potential and he’s like ok fine ill train y’all 

persona is also there bc i said so FUCK MORIA ALL MY HOMIES HATE MORIA she left him and somehow ended up with mihawk he also let her stay for some reason (he needs to stop adopting kids)

hear me out…. perona x kuina? or at the very least they become besties

once again zoro is just there

robin

olvia and saul are still alive

all of her island is still alive, don’t ask why the world government is ok with that they just are shhhh shhhhh 

robin grows up an archeologist but decides she needs to find the poneglyphs and discover the truth of the world

so she becomes a pirate and joins baroque works, led by crocodile

he respects her (WHAT) doesn’t try to kill her (WHAT) and they actually have a fun friendship a friendly lil boss secretary relationship its adorable

she helps crocodile get with doffy because god knows he couldn’t do it himself

ok if this is how this au is going robins gotta be besties with bon clay come on. mr three hello?? 

[ryo-kaikura]

Part 1

Yan Sub ftm OC x dom killer male reader x Yan Sub ftm OC

OC :Duri and Saru

Reader is 27 and OC's are 22

cw: killing, cnc, obsessive

I don't really know how to do this but ok

Duri's POV

O my fucking God, I didn't think this was gonna happen. I mean I was paid like $10,000 just to be here but I didn't know this was the house of a killer. At first when we got here nobody was in the house but then the owner came in and we wanted to knock him out so we can steal stuff but when he came in he help a knife and was dripping wet with blood.

All of a sudden, he was chasing us and got Chris and Marisa, then I hid in this bedroom and I can hear him coming. What can I do, I haven't even gotten a boyfriend yet T_T.

3rd POV

Damn these kids, ruining your furniture and shit. You know one of them is in my bedroom so you went there. Wow what a pretty boy such a same he broke into your hou- "wai-wait, sir please don't kill me I'll do anything please, I'l- I'll even give my body for you" "You mean you'll get fucked by me and I let you live?" "yes" "Alright, been pent up for months without a good fuck"

Without warning you threw him to your bed and took of your clothes and it seems he's eager too seeing how he's trying so hard to remove one button. After you removed your clothes and went to the bed and tore his clothes that took way too long. Now he's left in his -panties? Huh. Well would you look at that he has a pussy. "The name you'll be screaming is (name) got it" With a nod you continue

After making it wet enough you went in and God "god you're a virgin aren't you with pussy this tight and a lil blood on my cock you were a virgin" He can't even answer putting in your cock must've been heaven for him. "Oh yeah what's your name" "Oh-MHnn" You slap his ass "answer me slut" "Du- OoOh- ri" " Ok duri guess you're going to be my bitch till I get bored of you" Fucking hell this is the best cunt I had in month. After cumming like three time in him and him squirting and cumming like 20 times plus he looked so out of it you get back to killing two more of the kids, how you know well you asked you bitch how many friends he brought with him.

After searching for 5 minutes you found a girl well she was screeching so you killed her.

After 20 minutes of searching you got tired and wanted to get you new toy in your car.

And would you look at that, the last person was trying to get Duri to get up and leave. So you knocked him out, pick Duri up, put a vibrating dick toy in him and put it on low, tie up his hands, and go back for the last target.

And again another kid that wanted to get fucked by you. And another pussy boy. Seeing as there is no harm to let out more of that pent up cum you strip him till he has no more clothes, make him wet and fuck him till he's oversimulated cumming hard and got is he tight. After a while you're done with him but decided to just leave him there, you then figured out his name is Saru from his ID and that he own an infamous information place so you put you number in his phone then fuck his mouth and take a pic with it. You then leave him a check to a house then give him some of your old clothes then leave with your new toy struggling with a toy stuck in his pussy giving him minimal stimulation.

After getting tot he new house, you got him of and in the dead of the night you fuck him while getting inside your new house with all your trained maid and Butlers. The next day you gave duri an afterpill and put in something to prevent pregnancy.

On the other side of the country, after Saru woke up he was sad you didn't take him with you. Originally Saru told those idiots to break into this house then when you killed them all he can make you fuck him then you would have kept him but that boy took his place. But he's fine with not being your stress reliever because of the picture of your dick and the video of you cock going into his pussy and you fucking his mouth, god he's already cumming.

Oh, (name) this won't be the last time we fuck and next time we'll be together till we both die~

[wormdebut]

for the steddie spotify wrapped if you haven't gone over the cap yet because this is such a cool idea 🖤

my lucky number 74 and whatever rating your lil heart desires (but we all know i'm okay with explicit)

Hoooboy. Thank you for the request. #74 on my Spotify Wrapped is Watch The World Burn by Falling In Reverse. The second I pulled this up, I knew what it needed to be. SO This blurb is rated E. There is blood, there is wings, there is just a whole lot going on. There is the promise of monster fucking. This is...enjoy this.

Minors? See ya. Everyone else? Enjoy.

——

I can't control the monster any longer that's inside.

----

"Steve, No." Eddie growls. He growls--and that--well it shouldn't go straight to Steve's dick, but it does.

"Eds." Steve sighs. "You've literally been drinking from my wrist since March. What difference does it make?"

Eddie's voice is low, dangerous, when he answers. "The difference, Steve, is that your wrist is safe. I don't know what'll happen if I--if you let me--" He stutters, which, is interesting because this 'version' of Eddie is always so sure. Calmer then he was--before--

Steve would argue that Eddie hasn't changed much, you know…aside from the blood drinking and the retractable fangs and the sometimes-wings. Oh--and the occasional flashes of red eyes and maybe his eyes drifted too low one time and if Eddie's packing what Steve thinks he's packing well--Alright, okay. So maybe he's changed a little.

And well, maybe Steve's a little obsessed with him. But that--that shit was happening before all of Eddie's vampire shit so that's not really new information to Steve.

This isn't exactly a conversation Steve wanted to have in his fucking kitchen, but here they were. "I want to, Eddie. I don't think you're getting enough and I don't--I just want to help, Eds. It just my fucking neck. It's not like a million girls haven't--"

Steve's (very funny, thank you) joke is cut short by Eddie growling again. A deep low rumble and god fucking dammit he has got to stop doing that tonight.

"Don't." Eddie snaps, he's eyes catching Steve's just as they flash red.

Well, mark Steve down as scared and horny. "Sorry." He breathes.

"Steve--I can hardly keep it together as is. If you let me do this I can't promise that I won't completely lose it." Eddie says, voice pitched low.

"I want you to" Steve says, it's a whisper, but he thinks he gets what Eddie is trying to say and--

"Yeah Stevie I get it. I can bite your neck. I know you want me too, but that's not what I mean I--"

Steve cuts him off. "I know what you mean, Eddie, and I want you to."

Eddie blinks. His eyes a mix of red and deep brown. It's hypnotizing. "You--I--what?"

"I want you, Eddie." Steve says, looking him dead in the eyes. He means it. He needs Eddie to know that he does. "You, all of you. All of this. You don't scare me."

Eddie cocks his head. "I don't--I don't know if I'll be able to control it Steve. I want you so fucking bad."

When Steve responds, it's a quiet thing. "Then have me, have all of me. You won't hurt me, Eddie."

It's all kind of a blur after that.

Eddie and Steve lean forward at the same time and then they're kissing. They're kissing and Steve swears to god he can feel his heart beating the blood through his veins. He's afraid it might beat out of his damn chest. Eddie pulls his lip between his teeth--fangs absent--and Steve mourns it.

"Fuck, Stevie. The things I wanna do to you." Eddie purrs, and Steve--well Steve would never admit to the sound he makes, so don't ask.

Steve pulls back and Eddie just places kisses anywhere he can reach, his cheeks, his jaw, peppering kisses along his throat. "Fuck." Steve whines. "Do it, Eddie. Do whatever you want. Kiss me, bite me, fuck me. I--I'm yours, Eds I'm all you."

There's that damn growl, as Eddie noses against Steve's jugular. "Dammit, Stevie." Eddie pulls back, his lips are spit slicked and his eyes are bright red. "Upstairs. Now."

Steve wouldn't admit that he sprinted, per say, but he finds himself in his room pretty damn fast.

Eddie follows quickly and pushes Steve onto the bed. God, Eddie's so fucking pretty. His eyes are still glowing red and somewhere between the time, it took them to get to Steve's room, the fangs have made their appearance.

Steve wants them in his fucking neck. He wants them anywhere Eddie's is willing to bite. He can't help himself, he pulls Eddie down into a kiss. It's brutal, messy. One of Eddie's pointed canines catches on his lip. Draws blood. Eddie laps at it, his tongue licking over Steve's swollen lips and--god, Steve's is going to cream his fucking jeans.

He moans and Eddie laughs. It's that dark tone again.

"Baby." Eddie purrs into his mouth as Steve crashes their lips together again. He only pulls back, head hitting his pillow, when Eddie groans as his wings unfurl.

"Fuck Eddie," Steve breathes, enamored. He reaches up to run a finger along a leathery wing. They look like bat wings, but they're fucking massive. He's lost in running his fingers along one, and Eddie shivers.

"Steve." Eddie's voice is deep, it's low and it's clear and Steve can't fucking breathe.

"Bite me." Steve is breathless, for no reason, other than the beautiful man above him. "Please, Eddie, please." He pleads, begs. He needs this as bad as Eddie does.

Eddie pushes their hips together and Steve can feel their dicks grinding against each other. He gasps as Eddie noses along his jaw.

"I'll bite you baby. I'll make you feel so good--" Eddie's words are saccharine, dripping with a sweetness that is disguising a deep, visceral need. Steve is positive their are pleas falling from his lips. "--but you'll be mine, Stevie."

Mine mine mine.

The words run rampant in Steve's mind. "I'm yours--I'm yours, Eddie. Bite me." His eyes snap up to meet Eddie's pure red. Gorgeous.

Eddie leans forward, eyes sparkling, He nips at Steve's ear, groaning out a 'mine', before licking a stripe over Steve's neck.

Eddie bites and Steve sees fucking fireworks.

[kyriethesquishysquid]

Betrayal Never Felt So Good (König/Fem!Reader) Chapter 3

You can find Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here, Chapter 4 here, Chapter 5 here, and Chapter 6 here!

Word count: ~6k

Rating: Mature

A/N: Some use of Y/N and Y/L/N. Feral and jealous Possesive!König. LOTS of smut and tooth-rotting fluff! Literally all smut and feels. Reader is still morally grey and morally questionable. Reader has confidence issues that may be expanded upon later. Continued COD and military inaccuracies galore. Once again written in less than 24 hours so please forgive any mistakes! Also, I have my own canon idea of what König looks like and I’ll post a lil sketch later!

TW: Descriptions of stalking and obsession, hurt/comfort. Low self-esteem, self-confidence issues, allusion to past trauma. SMUT! Oral, fingering, rough sex, dom/sub tones, mild choking, size kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, and creampie. LOTS of emotions and feelings. Pet names (in English and German), bad German translations bc I’m STILL a lame monolingual American, and STILL no beta because we die like jackass Graves.

Crappy Translations:

Maus - Mouse

Mein schatz - My darling

Meine leibling - My love

Süßes mädchen- Sweet girl

Scheiße - Shit

Du könntest die Welt in die Knie zwingen, mein kleiner Maus, und du merkst es nicht einmal - You could bring the world to its knees, my little mouse, and you don't even realize it

The moment König shut the door to his room, you were thrown up against the wall. He didn’t give you even a second to react before his mouth was on yours, biting and licking as if he’d die without it. 

“K-König,” you breathed.

You were planning on pushing him away, demanding he talk about the admission from before, but the instant your palms touched his chest you lost all your fight. God, his muscles were tight beneath your hands. All you could think about was how good it felt to lay on that solid chest, how your nails dug marks into the skin there mere months ago. He chose that exact moment to slip his leg between yours and the height difference was great enough that you were pressed tight against the wall by his massive thigh.

“Oh fuck!” 

He let out a low groan as he lifted his leg again, one hand sliding down to your hip to pull you into the motion. Your eyes rolled back as a desperate noise left your throat, high and whiny. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d dreamed about riding his thick thighs and it was even better than you’d imagined, his tense muscle pressing in all the right ways. 

“I’ve missed hearing those beautiful noises, mein schatz,” he hummed lowly, “My imagination and hand were a terrible substitute.”

If you weren’t giving in already, that right there would have done it. Hearing him admit that he jacked off to the thought of you… oh, it checked all the right boxes. The mental image of his in his bed, jerking his cock and whispering your name nearly sent you over the edge. 

“I- I still- Fuck, I still want an- an explanation,” you whimpered between moans. 

König chuckled low and deep, the vibrations rumbling through your chest as he set a devastating rhythm against your core. Each bounce of his leg pushed the seam of your jeans against your clit in the most tantalizing way.

“I will tell you everything your little heart desires,” he promised, leaning down until his lips were pressed against your ear, “After I get to taste that sweet pussy and feel you come for me, ja?” 

A little gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of you. Deft fingers began undoing your jeans while his other hand slid up under your sweater, lifting it inch by inch as he ghosted over every dip in your abdomen. When his lips came to press little kisses along your soft belly, you instinctively tried to wrench away, only to be strongarmed into staying right where you were. God, as much as you were self-conscious about your extra plush, he made it almost bearable. 

“Mmm, I never thought I could miss something so badly,” he groaned.

Your cheeks flushed under the praise. Careful not to lift his hood too high, you slipped under the material and ran your fingers along his jaw, shivering as the prickly stubble scraped across your palm. It was insane how comfortable and easy it was to fall back into this, how much you were willing to look past just to have these little moments.

“Me either,” you admitted meekly, heart lurching in your chest at the look in his eyes as they met yours. 

As he tugged on your jeans, you lifted your hips and helped wiggle them down, letting out a sigh of relief once the constricting fabric went flying across the room. In the next breath, he had your sweater bunched up over your chest while pressing open-mouthed kisses over your thighs. 

“Shirt and bra off.”

You quickly complied and were rewarded with the most animalistic growl, one hand covering your breast while the other lifted your leg. The sudden shift nearly sent you off balance but König was quick to catch you and press you back against the wall. Once sure you were stable, he wasted no time hooking a finger into your panties just to jerk them aside and dive in without preamble.

“Jeeessuusss, wa-warning next time!” you gasped out weakly. 

His muffled laugh was the only response you got, tongue busy tracing gentle circles around your clit while his fingers pinched and squeezed your sensitive nipple. Fuck, you’d almost forgotten how good he was at this. Brows furrowing, you let your head fall back against the wall with a little thump and sunk your hand into his short hair. It was hard to believe you were finally getting to feel him again, to have him worshiping you between your thighs like a man possessed. He knew just what to do, how to flick his tongue at the perfect pace to have your sanity cracking at the edges and your body bowing to his whims. 

“F-Fuck! Plea-Please, more,” you whimpered, tugging at his locks as you trembled against him. 

He said something but you couldn’t hear him considering he didn’t even bother leaving your pussy for half a second. It didn’t really matter anymore once you felt his hand trail from your thigh to your cunt. Your breath caught in anticipation while he slid a single digit up and down your slit, collecting your arousal leisurely until finally- finally- he pushed into your core. 

You nearly fell then, body instinctively arching into him and his touch, but, as always, he was solid and secure, keeping you safe while never breaking his rhythm. Having even just one of his fingers in your again was like heaven. The few times you’d gotten yourself off, your fingers were nothing compared to his. He easily reached that sweet spongy spot along your wall that drove you crazy and knew exactly how to stimulate it.

“Have to work you open slowly, süßes mädchen, wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he purred softly.

You stupidly nodded in agreement but then, all of a sudden, he froze, leaving you whining desperately. 

“Wha- why?” you groaned. 

When you looked down, you found his bright blues narrowed, looking up at you in a way that you couldn’t decipher. That was… concerning. All the lust evaporated from your mind, leaving you concerned and afraid as he held your eyes intently.

“König, what’s wrong?”

“Nobody else has touched you, have they?” he hummed, a hint of danger lacing his tone. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, earning a glare from the Austrian. 

“What’s funny?” 

“König, no, there hasn’t been anybody else,” you explain softly, tracing your hand from his hair down to his lips, flushing when you found them wet, “How could there be? I told you you ruined me for other men.”

“Meine leibling.”

There were so many emotions in those two words. 

You had to smile as you replied, “You really have to teach me German so I know what you’re saying to me.”

His hand wrapped around yours and pulled it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm with a little murmur. 

“It means my love,” he explained.

Suddenly, it felt hard to breathe. Why was he so damn sweet? It was hard to bear, and yet you didn’t want him ever to stop. Before you could respond, he buried his face between your thighs with a growl and thrust two fingers into your heat. 

The world blurred behind tears as you focused all of your attention on that deft slick muscle flicking your sensitive nub like a toy. Just when you thought it couldn’t get better, he finally started finger fucking you, curving his digits to push against your g-spot with every thrust. The pressure was almost unbearable, the need to come stringing your entire body tighter than a bow. You were almost sad with how fast it was coming to an end because you could honestly live with the feeling of his mouth on you for the rest of your life.

“Oh! Oh fuck, König, pleasepleaseplease-”

Your voice cut off with a sharp keen when your climax hit suddenly. Slamming your head back against the wall with parted lips, you tried to moan or gasp or do anything other than scream silently at the ceiling but the pleasure was stifling. You could feel the breath he took in as you pulled him closer to your cunt by the roots of his hair. It felt like you’d been edged for the past two months and now, that he was finally allowing you bliss, it was too much. An almost psychotic giggle escaped as his name finally fell from your lips in a cry that you’d most likely regret in the morning. If he had neighbors, they were no doubt getting a surprise X-rated show tonight. 

Ever the giver, he didn’t pull away until you were whimpering and pushing him, every stroke of his tongue like a double-edged sword; pain and pleasure perfectly rolled into one. The instant he was on his feet, you jerked him down into a hungry kiss, moaning lewdly into his mouth as you tasted your arousal on his lips. 

“Need to see you, please!” you begged as you tugged at his shirt. 

It took him next to no time to comply, seemingly just as excited and only slowing down to ensure his hood wasn’t coming off before he was completely naked. Despite having just come, you could feel your body craving his in the most intimate ways. Fuck. He could make millions being a model. There was no denying he was the embodiment of masculinity, every muscle on his body thick and solid with a testament to how hard he worked his body. Before he could do anything else, you reached out for him. Your fingertips traced invisible lines across every dip and rise of his muscle, paying special love to each scar that adorned his body, lips following everywhere your eyes went. He was trembling, obviously tense but willing to let you worship every inch of his skin. 

A quiet moan of appreciation slipped out as you kissed down his adonis belt and traced your tongue around the base of his cock. He was still fucking huge, of course. At first, you’d thought maybe it was the newness of the situation that made him seem so big in your eyes but there was no denying his size with it right in front of you. Just the sight made your cunt throb in need. As you went to touch him, he caught your wrist in a vice grip. 

“If you touch me up anymore, I’m going to come and I refuse to do that before I feel you around me,” he hissed. 

Biting your lower lip, you nodded in understanding, letting him guide you to your feet silently. 

“Mein Gott, I need to be in you now.”

Without warning, he picked you up onto his waist and carried you over to the bed, tossing you gently onto the mattress before climbing over you. Another biting kiss left your lips so swollen and sore that you knew you’d have to come up with some lie for it tomorrow; And for any other marks that might appear on your body.  

“Turn over,” he instructed, pulling your thighs to the side. 

You did as asked and let him position you how he wanted, which turned out to be face down ass up. Big hands palmed your cheeks with a throaty groan, squeezing and spreading, leaving you wide open to his gaze. It was embarrassing to be so exposed but the little noises he made in response were encouraging.

“Du könntest die Welt in die Knie zwingen, mein kleiner Mus, und du merkst es nicht einmal,” he sighed quietly, “You want to know more, ja?”

Reality settled in around your lust-addled brain for just a moment but it was shoved quickly aside when he gently began to push three fingers in. 

“F-Fuck!” 

“It started six months before we met, when we were contracted to gather intel on Shadow Company,” he explained slowly as he stretched your walls thoroughly.

You almost told him you didn’t care about it at that point but there was still some semblance of a brain in your nervous system so you let him talk. 

He let out a little breath then continued, “I’m really not exactly certain as to why but, when I saw your picture, you called out to me; so beautiful and bright, the exact opposite of everything I’ve grown used to seeing. That sweet little smile and those cherub cheeks, so full of life and kindness. And then I read on, learned more from your file about your past before joining Graves. You’ve experienced so much destruction, mein schatz, and yet you still have the light in your eyes. I told myself to let it go but I couldn’t. Not after seeing that.”

He paused as he shifted his wrist and positioned his fingers deeper into your core with a grunt. 

“At this point, I’m sure it’s no secret that we have agents inside other factions, and I used them to get to know you more. What you were really like, how you interacted with everyone, what you liked- More and more until I was in too deep.” 

There were so many emotions to sort through as he talked but the way he was curling his fingers made it more than impossible. You couldn’t resist wiggling your hips at him with a whine. 

“Please,” you groaned, “Keep talking but fuck me!”

A sharp slap echoed through the room and the pain quickly blossomed across your cheek, making you clench around his fingers. You almost wiggled again just to feel more of that sting.

“All in good time. You need to learn patience, maus.” 

“Fu-Fuck, I have patience but I went two fucking months without this and you expect me to just-”

Another slap and another cry from your lips found your head dropping in defeat. König was the master of patience, as he’d proven multiple times before, and you knew you weren��t going to get anywhere with him until he was ready. 

“As I was saying,” he retorted sternly, “I admit it was not fair to have such an advantage against you when we first met, but I wanted- no, I needed to know how to treat you right, in all the ways you loved. Part of me knew I should leave you alone. You were too good, too perfect. I’d just ruin you. You deserved better, but I’m not a good man, schatz, and I am selfish. When I found out we were moving against your team with the orders to kill as necessary, I knew I had to take you, for your safety and my own conscience. And then- then I had you. It was the most maddening experience, seeing you so weak and small, at my complete mercy and whim. Just the thought that something could have happened to you…”

He trailed his words off with a deep growl that sent your hair on end.

“I would have killed them had they tried to touch you.”

Your eyes widened at that. Was he serious? He would have killed his comrades to protect you? Someone he hadn’t even met yet?

“I had planned to just let you out safely once we secured another information source, but scheiße, imagine my surprise when I found you so receptive to me.” 

Lips trailed soft kisses over your soft globes, leaving little love bites in their wake as he worked up your spine. Shivers crept across your skin and you leaned into the touch eagerly, your body craving anything and everything he would give. 

“I never expected to be allowed to touch you,” he whispered against your shoulder, “A literal angel. So perfect and willing to accept a monster like me. I truly considered just keeping you there, hiding you away in my quarters for the rest of time, but things went wrong.” 

A twinge of guilt tightened your stomach in a different, more unpleasant, way. Daniel had found you in König’s room, thankfully dressed and prepared, and you couldn’t resist lest you have a target on your back for the rest of your life. 

“Every day you were gone, I checked on you. I had them convince Graves that you were too fragile to go back out on dangerous missions, that you needed rest for your physical and mental health. If I couldn’t have you here to protect you, I was going to do my damndest to do what I could from afar. I’ve always had your best interests at heart, meine leibling, always. While I may have gone about it the wrong way, I don’t regret it for one second; Because now I have you. I’m no good but, gottverdammt, you make me want to be better for you.”

“König, I-”

Pulling his fingers out, he silenced you with another smack, a rumbling laugh filling the air when you squeaked in pain. 

“Later, leibling, but right now, I need you.”

You nodded in understanding and prostrated yourself further, lifting your hips to help him get a better angle. 

He groaned lowly and squeezed your hip tight, the other hand dragging his cock up and down your cunt, coating himself in your slick until he was thoroughly wet. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he sighed when you pushed back against him. 

“Then you’d best take me with you,” you retorted.

If he responded, you couldn’t hear it over your own moan when he thrust in. Brows furrowing and mouth gaping, you cursed him softly as he caught you off guard. There was no waiting, no patience. This was raw animalistic need. Two more thrusts and he was balls deep, stretching you in the most primal way and leaving you gasping for breath. 

“I’m sorry, meine leibling, but I- I couldn’t wait,” he whined softly, “Relax, you’re doing so good for me, taking me so well.”

You couldn’t manage even a single coherent word, just his name and foul curses leaving your lips in quiet little whimpers. 

“You okay, maus?” he asked as his hips stilled. 

“Fine! I’m fine, just- fuck, keep moving,” you cried.

He held your hips still and instantly gave you what you asked for, setting a punishing pace that made your muscles cry out. It felt like he was in your guts, stretching you to the limits and keeping a perfect balance, tipping precariously between ecstasy and anguish. No doubt you’d be covered in bruises tomorrow, internal and external. Fuck, your ass might even be too sore to sit from taking the brunt of his weight. Decidedly worth it. 

It didn’t take long to feel that pressure building up in your lower belly again, his cock filling every last inch of your cunt, head dragging across your sweet spot with every slam of his hips. Without thinking, you shot a hand between your thighs and rubbed your clit viciously, lips parting in a pornographic-level moan.

“K-König, feels so good, please, don’t stop!” 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned huskily, “That’s right, good girl. Come for me. Wanna feel this needy little cunt soak me.”

His growls were lost in the cacophony of your moans and the sound of skin slapping skin. Clenching tight around him earned a brutal smack and that was all it took. For the second time that night, you felt the overwhelming waves crash through you, prying a broken whine from your mouth as tears of bliss streamed down your cheeks. It was too much, not enough.

“Y/N, lift up and look back at me,” König demanded suddenly. 

He stilled long enough for you to push up onto one arm and he instantly grabbed your jaw, wrenching your head back until he could smash his mouth onto yours with a sigh. Slowly, he began to move his hips again, and you welcomed his tongue against yours, the hectic fucking turning into something more sweet, romantic. 

“Now these, these are the tears I love. You look so beautiful when you cry for me,” he cooed quietly, “My perfect little girl with those cock drunk eyes and that sweet little smile. I could stare at you like this forever.” 

“Mmm, wanna be here forever,” you whimpered back.

When he released your face, he didn’t let you collapse back down into your downward dog, instead, he hooked his arm around your neck and held you up, resting his head atop yours while subtly restricting the flow of blood and oxygen without being too much. 

“Of course, schatz, who else will fuck you like this? Who else could shape this tight little hole like I can?” 

Though you knew he was teasing by the tone in his voice, you couldn’t help but whine, “No one! No one could ever make me feel this good. Only you, König, just you! I’m yours.”

A familiar snarl was your only warning before he picked up the pace. 

“Ja, that’s right. Mine! No one will ever touch you again. I’ll kill anyone who tries! You. Are. Mine! Mind- body- soul- forever!”

The scream you let out was demonic and burned your throat raw with the force, but it still didn’t feel like enough- not enough to convey how good he made you feel or the way you felt for him as a whole. Nails digging into his forearm, you clawed onto him for balance as your legs began to wobble, your entire body giving out under the onslaught that was König. He finally released his hold on your throat only to dig his fingers deep into the plush of your hips.

“Y-Yes!” you gasped out when he finally let you rest on your forearms once more, one hand tangling into your locks, “And- And you’re mine. Meine- Meine leibling.”

You knew you butchered his mother tongue but it was worth the whimper he let out and the bruising grip on your hip. Now completely free of restraint, you don’t hesitate to fuck him back, throwing your hips back to meet his thrusts and squeezing your tight walls around his cock. 

“Ahh, I’m going to come, maus. Gonna- Scheiße!”

“Fuck yes, please! Pleasepleaspleaseplease come in me, König. Wanna make you feel good, baby! Wanna be good for you.”

 Your face was suddenly slammed down against the bed, one massive hand pinning you down as he rutted into you with abandon until, finally, he buried himself as far as humanly possible in your cunt. You had to smile into the blankets. So many men were quiet during sex, oh, but not your König. The noises he let out were delectable and you soaked them up like sunlight, as if they were necessary to your survival.

“Oh, Süßes mädchen, you are good for me,” he panted through moans, “Always so good for me. So- So tight and willing and perfect- ah!”

He collapsed over you with a groan, elbows digging into the mattress on either side of you, holding him just off from crushing you. Sweet and soft kisses rained down across your neck and shoulders, pulling quiet little mewls of contentment from your mouth until he placed a sharp bite under your ear. 

“Fuck!” you groaned with a laugh, “I guess I should have expected that this time.” 

A deep chuckle rumbled against your back as he replied, “I enjoy marking you, leaving little reminders that you’re mine.”

Your heart thumps hard against your chest. The need to hold him grew unbearable and you quickly wiggled beneath him, earning a groan from you both when he finally pulled out and you felt both your and his cum leak out over your skin. Once on your back, you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him down. You wanted to be the one getting laid on this time. His weight was a comfort, a weighted blanket if you would. 

“Maus, I-”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” you replied softly, feeling deja vu from repeating the same words he used before, “Please, I- I need this.” 

His eyes were swimming with all sorts of emotions but he finally relented with the smallest of nods, allowing you to pull him down to settle over you. Only the upper half of his torso was on you, his head resting against your breasts and feet hanging off the end of the bed, but it was enough. You waited until he got comfortable before running your fingers under his hood, gingerly scraping your nails against his scalp and neck. 

“I don’t know how I feel about everything you said,” you admitted softly.

The way he tensed up made your chest hurt, urging you to quickly continue and soothe his nerves. 

“But I’m not mad either,” you whispered, “It’s… unconventional but also insanely flattering and… romantic? I don’t think I’ve ever had someone want me that much. It kind of scares me that I’m gonna let you down, you know? You-”

“I know. I know what you’re going to say, how you think of yourself, but meine leibling, I’ve seen the good and the bad, and I love it all.”

Love. Oh, there was that powerful word again. You were torn. Logically, you knew he didn’t know you enough to love you, not real you and all your problems. How could someone so powerful, smart, kind, and beautiful as he really want something like you? You knew you weren’t the worst of the bunch, but you also knew there were many better than you too. And yet, another part of you wanted to accept it so badly that it hurt; believe that someone could truly see all your flaws and still love you. 

 As if he could sense your thoughts, he lifted up onto one elbow and his other hand came to cup your cheek.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he urged softly. 

Tears clouded your vision and you tried to blink them away unsuccessfully, letting out a huff of frustration when they fell. 

“What happens when you finally realize I’m not as perfect as you thought?” 

Your words were broken, throat tight and burning with each syllable. It was painfully obvious you were close to breaking and you hated showing it. 

“That is not possible,” he assured you kindly, thumb tracing your lower lip tenderly, “You are the most beautiful, most intelligent, and sweetest person I’ve ever met. Even if there was something I found issue with, we would work it out, schatz. Scheiße! What am I even saying? You should be running from me, not questioning if you’re worthy of being with me”  

“I- I don’t-”

With a little grunt, he suddenly lifted onto his knees and cupped your face.

“Do you want proof?” he demanded, “I will give you proof, mein schatz, whatever you need.” 

“Mm?” 

You were still dazed from his touch when he pulled away and it took your brain far too long to realize he had taken his sniper hood off, leaving him bare-faced, and it felt like your heart stopped beating. 

Other than his eyes and mouth, this was the most you’d seen. Nothing you’d ever pictured came even close to reality. Breathing suddenly became something you had to consciously think about as you reached up to touch his face in awe. He was stunning, not in a supermodel way but in a rugged way that made your fingers tremble and your body ache. His dirty blonde locks were cut in a slightly grown-out crew cut, matching the prickly blonde shadow lining his strong jaw and the thick blonde brows furrowed over those gorgeous soft blues. His nose was on the larger side and seemed as if it’d been broken one too many times, topped off with a little scar over the bridge by his eyes that you mindlessly traced. Those plump lips you’d spent so much time kissing were downturned in a serious frown, the scar above his top lip made more prominent by the motion, and it was then that you finally realized you’d been sitting and staring at him without saying a word for far too long. 

Honestly, though, there didn’t seem to be any right words to say. More than him being attractive, your brain was just dumbstruck by the sheer sense of trust he was showing. The tears you’d fought so hard to banish returned with a vengeance. What had you done to deserve this, to deserve someone who wanted you this much? A little voice in the back of your head said that you hadn’t, nothing you’d done had earned someone like König and this had to be some cruel joke. But oh, the look in his eyes, it suffocated that flicker of self-hatred before it could spread.

“Oh, meine liebling, are you-”

Hearing him call you that while being allowed to see all the intricate emotions in his expression… it was too much. Grabbing him by the back of the neck, you jerked him down into a biting kiss as a sob broke forth. You had to do something to try to express your thoughts.

“König,” you whispered brokenly, “Fuck, do you even realize how beautiful you are?!”

He let out a little chuckle against your lips and murmured, “I know I’m not unattractive but I think you are overselling it a little, ja?”

“Not. One. Bit,” you breathed between kisses.

With all your strength, you managed to push him back onto the bed and climbed over his waist, pinning his arms out as you looked over him in full. You knew he could easily overpower you and move you if he wanted, but he seemed content to let you get your fill. You couldn’t get enough of seeing him, your hands absentmindedly tracing designs along his arms and pecs as you reveled in all of the coalescing emotions. 

“God damn, and you really want me?” you sighed wistfully, “Are- Are you sure?”

He easily broke your hold to rest his hands on your sides, slowly stroking up and down from your ribs to your hips and back. The motion was soothing, tender.  

“I know you’ve been taught to think negatively about yourself, but I promise I’ll spend the rest of eternity reminding you every day just how loveable you are, as long as you’ll let me,” he replied before a devious smirk curled up the edges of his lips, “In fact, let me start now, hmm?” 

Leaning forward, you caught his lips in a soft kiss, only for a squeak to escape when he pulled your hips down against his, giving you an intimate feel of just what he had meant by his words. 

He growled, forcing a cry from you when he sunk his teeth into your sore lower lip and mumbled, “You see what you do to me? One look at you and I’m lost. How can you question this when I have the physical evidence to prove it, hmm?” 

Your face flushed warm at his words but you weren’t given a chance to reply before his fingers slipped down between your bodies, tearing out a shaky gasp as his fingers stroked your sensitive nub. 

“I hope you’re ready, maus, because you’re not leaving my side tonight. When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”  

…

“So you heard it too?” 

“Yeah, can you believe it? And did you see the marks on his arms?!”

“I just can’t believe someone actually fucked the colonel. I bet she ain’t walkin’ right t’day. I dunno if you’ve seen him in the showers but…”

“Fuck, I know right?! It’s not fucking fair. The anti-social beast gets hung like king fucking kong and he doesn’t even use it. Well, not before last night anyway.”

You tried oh so hard to focus on your lunch and not the explicit conversation about the sex with your Austrian lover last night, but it was hard to ignore. They weren’t exactly being subtle. If only they knew how right they were. You’d done your best to hide it and took ibuprofen to help reduce the tenderness in your muscles, but there was no denying the way your legs and pussy were aching to the high heavens from his brutal treatment. Not that you were complaining. You’d take that pain and worse any day of the week as long as it was from him. 

“Oh shit, shh! He’s here!”

At that, your head jerked up instinctively. Your eyes searched the cafeteria curiously until, finally, you spotted him carrying out his lunch. A little smirk curled up your lips as spotted the many claw marks along his forearms and you had to chuckle to yourself. He just had to wear a T-shirt instead of his usual thermal, didn’t he? You were almost certain it was on purpose, as if he was peacocking that last night’s escapades. It was kind of cute and, honestly, quite arousing. 

“Who do you think it was?” 

“I dunno, man. It has to be one of Shadow Company because why else wouldn’t it have happened before?” 

Your lips fell and you quickly turned away from him, trying to avoid being too obvious when he turned around. As much as you wanted to spend the rest of your time with KorTac being draped all over your lover, reality was a major cock block. Until you were out of Graves’ grasp, you had to be careful. 

One last look found his eyes trained directly on you and your heart jumped into your throat as he walked right at you. 

No. Fucking. Way. 

“Y/L/N?” König asked as he stopped by your table. 

It was painfully obvious how red your face was by the heat emanating from your skin. Doing your best to keep a calm demeanor, you nodded once. 

“What can I help you with, sir?” you asked, cursing the way your voice shook. 

“When you’re done here, meet me in my office,” he instructed, “I need to talk with you about a report you filed on one of my men last night.” 

Oh. Maybe this was actually serious. You felt a little foolish for even thinking he would chance exposing your relationship like that in public. 

“Of course, sir, I’ll be there as soon as possible,” you assured him. 

And then his professional facade slips, the little wink he sent your way making your thighs clench, and you nearly screamed at him for getting you so flustered when he got to hide behind his hood. 

“See to it that you do.” 

With that, he stalked away, your eyes following him in disbelief. 

“What an asshole,” you breathed out quietly, unable to stop the goofy ass smile plastered to your face.

You wasted no time demolishing the rest of your food, your mind going a million miles an hour about what you could expect once you saw him. The mental image of being forced over his desk was enough to make the remainder of your food entirely unappetizing. You had a different kind of hunger to satiate. 

[kissvamps]

shuriri headcanons

shuri and riri headcanons for the first day of pride month!! beacuse they are my favorite gay people and im getting an immense amount of brainrot, i haven’t been sane since bpwk came out last year

• sometimes shuri will talk to herself and get mad at griot for responding💀

• riri has bonded with griot since stealing him and due to this, she gets on shuri for treating him like a dog

• ‘shuri you can’t be talking crazy to my son like that’ ‘he is not a real person, riri’ ‘how do you think hearing you say that makes him feel?’

• true to her girlflop nature, shuri can’t cook for shit

• says that she’s literally a genius so not being able to cook isn’t that important

• ‘even griot can make pasta, it’s really nothing special’

• riri and shuri made lab playlists for each other

• whenever they’re working in the lab together listening to music, riri will drop everything when usher comes on and serenade shuri

• “i’m ya number one fan, give me your autograph, sign right it here on my heart” and riri be singing down, trust!

• riri loves tupac like idk what tell you

• they love tems so bad, one time they went to one of her concerts and shuri was literally in tears

• ‘we shared a moment when she sang interference, riri, i’m so sorry you had to find out like this’

• shuri discovered hello kitty thru a brief mention of her in a conversation with riri and she’s been a bit obsessed since

• ‘what you doing wit all this paraphernalia?’ riri asked when she visited shuri and there was only a corner of her california king size bed not covered in hello kitty plushies

• riri indulges the obsession and surprised her with a hello kitty lego set

• shuri can’t tell when people are fliriting with her for the life of her so riri does a lot of damage control

• ‘your tattoo is so beautiful, what does it represent?’ ‘that she got a girl, keep it pushin’

• shuri loves getting things for riri and considering the fact that riri literally stole her ai (that will never not take me out💀), she has no qualms with it, though it does still shock her sometimes

• ‘i got you that think you’ve been talking about’ ‘my nigga, a new car?’

• they both have autism like it’s actually canon

• sometimes they bite each other, most of the time it’s random but sometimes it’s literally how they greet each other

• riri tried to make a case for okoye to drive them to pride but shuri said it should be griot instead

• ‘it would be most efficient, besides, it’s not like he has anything better to do’ ‘never a moment of rest for my son’ ‘riri, he is a mass of coding’

• also!! they went to pride wit ayo, aneka, okoye, and nakia too (the wakandan flag doubles as a pride flag omg just gay niggas everywhere)

• and m’baku!! ik it’s sum sugar in the jabari tank

• that fanart @t00thpaste33 made where little t’challa asked shuri why riri calls her babygirl is based on true events, riri laughed for several minutes straight in front of a very unamused shuri when she told her what happened

• ‘my bad, no more spitting game in front of nephew’ ‘you are not funny, riri’

• speaking of lil t’challa, shuri and riri spoil that boy like nobody’s business, nearly half of the projects they work on together are for him and the gifts always baffle nakia

• ‘we brought you something!!’ and it’s his own pair of gauntlets, they look a lot like the ones on shuri’s panther suit except all the detailing is silver

• t’challa’s eyes light up meanwhile nakia is looking and riri and shuri in disbelief

• turns out the gauntlets just blow bubbles and read stories to him (i’m so sick i love them so bad)

• shuri and riri both like horror movies but shuri likes the really bad ones from the 80s with the terrible special effects and riri likes the scary ass ‘based on a true story’ movies even tho they leave her scared shitless

• ‘see it wasn’t that bad’ ‘you refused to go to the bathroom at night without me’

• shuri gets a phone just to talk to riri and because iphone tech is archaic to her she sounds like a grandparent in text messages which typically leads to her sending voice messages explaining mistakes

• ‘um, why i get a text from you saying ‘you look like poop emoji wit the smiley face emoticon at the end’?’ ‘you look like thee shit, thee shit!! i hate this fucking iphone, i hope steve jobs died of suicide!!’

• shuri gives riri her own set of kimoyo beads after a few more text mistakes like that for her own sanity and cuz it’d be so much easier to communicate with riri

• they be blowing each other’s kimoyo beads up like i mean blowing them to pieces

• shuri customized the notifications from riri so now her kimoyo beads and griot just chant ‘pookie alert! pookie alert!’ whenever riri contacts her

• shuri will literally be in the middle of a council meeting and her kimoyo beads start chirping ‘pookie alert! pookie alert!’

• ‘i’m sorry, this is a very important call i have to take this’

• riri turns into the most annoying nigga alive after getting her kimoyo beads (real), grinning like the cat that got the canary telling everybody in wakanda about what her girlfriend made for her and shuri’s right behind her, giggling and shit (they’re so pookie im gonna be sick☹️)

•okoye is so tired of them

• ‘guess what my baby got me? ‘guess, okoye, guess!!’ ‘a muzzle, bast-willing’

• in general, they frequently antagonize okoye and she occasionally finds them funny

• shuri LOVES minecraft

• riri actually got really into crocheting when she went with shuri to haiti and picked it up from nakia so now she’s always randomly sneaking up on shuri with a measuring tape

• she’s literally the ‘what size titty are you’ meme

• shuri and riri go on roblox dates literally every week they possibly can

• shuri be hogging the fuck out the covers but it’s fine cuz riri’s the big spoon anyways

• part of why shuri hogs the covers is cuz she gets cold really easily and riri has really cold feet

• ‘bast, do you have literal ice in this bed?’ ‘those my feet and you know that’

shuri and riri actually make me physically ill i love them so bad, i wish gay people were real☹️