I want you to fuck me like a colosseum. Love me like a killing. Want me like a wild thing.
nsfw + ficlet under cut, part of the #occult killer au
(this is the most tumblr will allow. click for the full version and the +ring version!)
Ryou sneaks out of the birthday party thrown in his honor when an innocent question unexpectedly strikes him hard: Why do you always hide what you want?
When he arrives home, Bakhura (the King of Thieves) is surprised to see him back early, and Bakura (the Spirit) points out how he looks unsettled more than usual, "What's wrong with you?" Tonight's events ignited a fire in Ryou's veins, and with his personal conviction as fuel, he purposefully strides over to the two and pulls Bakhura into a fervent kiss. An incredulous Bakura asks what the hell he thinks he's doing. Reluctantly, Ryou extracts himself from a speechless but, nevertheless, receptive Bakhura and turns to the other.
"Taking what I want... Don't you always say I should be more honest?" His voice is low, breathy, desire wrapped around every word. Invitingly, Ryou tugs at Bakura, who goes willingly and reciprocates the kiss with the same intensity. "So have me. Both of you. Right here..."
---
Ryou is the first to pass out, and following some aftercare, the two tuck him into bed. After a long and passionate night, Bakhura's brain is swimming in a pool of happy chemicals, and he doesn't resist the call of the many pillows for his bone-tired body. He slots himself beside Ryou but pauses upon noticing his pale counterpart merely sitting at the edge of the bed, unmoving like a statue and staring at Ryou's sleeping face. A fleeting thought crosses Bakhura's mind that makes him chuckle. As he slides under the covers, Bakura asks what's so funny. "You're still here, is all. Didn't think you were the type to stay the night."
Bakura huffs indignantly, displeased with being profiled but concedes. "You're not wrong." He goes back to watching Ryou and, contrary to his bold words, decides to shuffle under the blanket after an endless minute.
Another chuckle, unmistakably mocking this time. "You just can't keep away, can you?"
Bakura scowls. "Shut up." He knows his glare won't reach the thief, so his ire ebbs as quickly as it flares. He studies the soft features of his host earnestly, quietly bringing up a hand to caress his cheek with the back of his fingers. "Today's special. It's his birthday." A beat passes. "And the first time he's ever been honest."
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βWhy donβt you use aiβ idk man beyond the obvious environmental and βthis machine causes psychosis and encourages people to kill themselvesβ thing I think asking the equivalent of a solid D student who is also a pathological liar if they can answer my question/do the work for me seems pretty fucking stupid
why are there so many posts about asexuals being immune to sirens. people. sirens donβt lure you in with sex (necessarily). they sing about whatever it is that you want most. they could sing about mothman or cinnamon toast crunch and guess what then your asexual pirate is fucking dead
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βWould it help you to know that your friend is completely gone? There is no speck of him left anywhere in the universe. No atom of his remains, nothing of his soul or spirit is left. If there is an afterlife, he is not there. He exists only in your memories now. He is not thriving or suffering.β
βThat shouldnβt help, at all, and yet I do feel a little bit better somehow.β
βDivorced. In fact, Iβve never met a man more divorced. Youβre eccentric too, of course, but looking at you itβs incredibly obvious that she left you.β
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Your doctor looked at you with concern and handed you a referral to a remote part of the hospital. Your hands shook as the paper initially appeared to say Department of Oncology. Now your knees go weak as you see it actually reads Department of Ontology.
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