1 - 20 of 111 Works by ouchsolo
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The mere thought of being without them has Seongil's heart hammering so loudly in his chest that he's worried it's a summer storm. Thunder drums in his ears, rushing blood warming him up until he's past the point of boiling. Seongil glances at his front door, a dog waiting for his owners to return.
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As much as this endeavor is laced with uncertainty, Mingi feels no guilt for leading Yunho into a home full of vampires. He's too sick to be desirable to them, his blood too weak and flesh too brittle. Bruises paint Yunho's skin wherever his jacket does not cover, a yellow pallor beneath his pale exterior only making him look that much sicker, but all Mingi can see is a younger Yunho laying in a field of green grass with the sun kissing his rounded cheeks.
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This lingering need to crawl inside of Hunter has been borne from Maki being far too repressed and far too fucking gay for his own good. Maki is going to super hell for abusing Hunter's kindness like this, another level deeper for each time he brings the collar of Hunter's shirt to his nose to sniff the remnants of his cologne and detergent.
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The warmth of Rui's tongue against his own has Nicholas groaning in pure bliss, one shaky hand reaching up to gently card his fingers through Rui's hair, feeling the silken strands slip out of his grasp if he doesn't curl tight enough. Their naked bodies stick as they kiss, tacky and gross. Nicholas wishes he could be like this forever.
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Things are different now. The few inches that Maki has on Nicholas allow him to be consumed by Maki's shoulders, his body going limp when Maki presses him against the nearest wall. They kiss as if they need each other to breathe, hands grabbing at clothing and gasps panted into each other's mouths. Nicholas still tastes like the bitterness of alcohol, softened by cherry syrup and minty lip balm.
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Maybe this was all in vain, and Fuma will tell Nicholas he should go back to earth if given the chance. Nicholas doesn't have to listen to him, but he wants to be wanted. More than anything, Nicholas aches for Fuma to want him back, every pinch and pain and uncomfortable feeling painting Nicholas in Fuma-shaped bruises. Lifetimes have passed since Nicholas has found himself here, and he can't let it slip through his fingers now, not when Fuma is right here for him to take.
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It would be easy to tell Taki that they shouldn't do this again, or that they should wait to try another time. Yudai could lie and say he isn't ready, that he's unsure, but lying to Taki is useless. He'll see right through him anyway.
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Yuma wants to touch him, to claw open his brain just to get a peek at what he's hiding behind all of this impossible calm that is starting to drive Yuma beyond nuts. He doesn't do well with tension, especially not with a kitty that smells so good and has yet to snap at him despite probably deserving it.
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From the moment he laid eyes on him in those sterile grey hallways, Fuma has only looked at one omega in the same way, as if his life was dipped in technicolor and scented like peach champagne with honey around the rim. Shamelessly, Fuma has loved Yudai in whatever ways he’s needed no matter how antsy or determined his human brain may feel at times. His inner alpha already knows that Yudai is his omega, whether it’s solidified with a bite or not.
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“You were freaked out… by these?” Nicholas asks while reaching into his pocket, procuring a pair of handcuffs that are not the ones he was showing off in the live. These are lined with a soft black fur that must make them more comfortable for someone to wear, notably for sex things, Yuma must blatantly point out to himself. “I can make them less scary for you.”
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Just as people jump out of planes or swim with sharks, Hongjoong dares to engage in the more thrilling, risky aspects of life. He can hardly be blamed for seeking highs that can’t be assuaged by substances or sex, his fascinations very particular and very singular in nature.
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Sure, it’s weird as all hell that Yunho doesn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed or upset over the fact that Seonghwa singlehandedly blew up their friendship, but Seonghwa is so deep in his self-deprecation that he isn’t above believing that Yunho must have forgotten about him entirely. Seonghwa left, Yunho stayed. Yunho is all homegrown cuteness, tanned and smiley with a splash of hardened angst from having a tortured past, and Seonghwa is… a fucking mess. Nothing cute about it.
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They are puppets, replaceable just as much as they are vital to performance. Even if San and Yunho have been the most loyal and upstanding right-hand men, they are still just pieces on a much larger game board that men like Seonghwa and Hongjoong control in their entirety. Yunho understands that much even if it hurts him at times, but San looks terribly crushed by the betrayal. It’s making Yunho itch.
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It was a strange dichotomy at first, because one glance at Christian and a slew of preconceived notions overshadow one's understanding of him before he even has a chance to speak, but Seonghwa has always seen him for who he is. Despite not knowing it at the time, Christian saw that same potential in Seonghwa too, like a mirror of his own needs. Power has never been something that Seonghwa felt the need to take for himself, but he is more than willing to wield it should it fall into his lap, and Christian has always looked best while sitting right on top of him.
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Mingi has no shame in being their object of desire, their thing to use and abuse and shower in praise and apology after the fact. Maybe Mingi is sick, but his back arches up off the bed as Seonghwa and Hongjoong find their rhythm taking him apart, his skin lighting aflame with a euphoria that tastes like drinking every star in the night sky.
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Just like the changing tides or the day turning to night, Seonghwa can morph themselves into every single one of Hongjoong’s wet dreams. She’s Hongjoong’s perfect girl. He’s Hongjoong’s terrifyingly handsome boyfriend. Seonghwa is the be all end all of dick-crushing, sublime, celestial invention.
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Jaemin was not always catholic, his parents are converts just like so many others in this town. He was still so young when he first stepped through the doors of St. Paul’s Catholic School and was met with a boy whose eyes turned into moons when he smiled. Jeno was the first person to ever reach out to him, even before God, and that is not a touch so easily dismissed.
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It’s such a simple thing, but Hongjoong feels the peace radiating out of Seonghwa, the control that tastes saccharine as it drips down Hongjoong’s throat. The art of giving up and giving in is not something so easily done, but Hongjoong trusts that Seonghwa can handle whatever he gives him. Hongjoong just has to follow his rules.
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Not bothering to check the peephole, Hongjoong turns and pulls on the doorknob, expecting to see a child or… something, anything other than who he sees on his porch; a sopping wet figure that forces his chin up just to see him in his entirety. Hongjoong knows those eyes and that shaggy black hair, his heart doing terrible, awkward things in his chest at the sight of him.
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But Jongho feels himself disappearing beneath Mingi’s touch, the monster of his obsession molting its feathers and losing its claws. Empathy is a far less tamable beast that has only now emerged in his world, and Jongho is locked in its cage with nowhere to go.