magiccrayonbox

Story List Update

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 23:03:24 GMT

Obnoxious Font Size Story List
1) PanxLyra (His Dark Materials)
2) SoubixRitsuka (Loveless)
3) MelloMatt (Desu Noto)
4) Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts II)
5) HieixKurama (Yu Yu Hakusho)

Okay, to explain number one. I just found this pairing while surfing FF.Net and lemme tell you, I am THRILLED. It is going to be so fucking inappropriate, ah! Just thinking about it makes me itch with excitement. I love, comma, LOVE being a pervert. I love it. I'm going to start writing it about 180 seconds from now. But only because I have to urinate. Nature comes first, then perversion. Thank you FF.Net for allowing me to embrace my inner sicko.

Damn I'm cool.

Tue, 10 Jun 2008 03:38:03 GMT

Okay, so recently I've been thinking of just how much of a loser I am. It's gotten so bad that it's to the point where whenever I think of something that sets off my inner squee I automatically think "Omg I gotta LJ about this." Posting on your journal is not the solution to everything, I'll admit. LJ can't cure AIDS (yet!), but it's fucking great. So I have a nerd update. Nothing to do with yaoi although I'll probably take it there just because everything can eventually loop back to boylove. Here we go.

Father's day is coming up. I'm buying my pops a comic book. Donno which one though. My geek skills don't extend that far.

New Batman movie is out in July. Um, I love Christian Bale like the day is long and the ocean is deep. I love that man like fungi love parasitic growth. He is a walking-talking orgasm. I'm not sure if I love him because he's Batman, or because he's just so damn sexy. Who do I love more? Batman or Christian? I don't know. Probably Batman... (ugh I'm such a ten year old). I have a giant crush on Batman.

I don't know when, but a new Wolverine movie is coming out as well. Wait, I'm sorry, a new X-men movie. Or maybe not. WHO CARES. Hugh Jackman will probably have his shirt off. He might even get naked. Just in case, I will have my bucket ready so I may express my joy in the artistic form of projectile vomit. And I'll have a mop. Don't ask why. He is so very worthy of a nice cold shower. Then an ice soak.

O M G. What if Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman found themselves making out with each other. No, shouldn't think about it. Their characters are from different comic companies. It would never work. But the possibilities! The only thing sexier than seeing them kiss is seeing Batman and Wolverine beat the shit out of each other. How nerd-gasmic. *shudders*

Warno

Sat, 31 May 2008 14:49:54 GMT

I had a dream about fanfiction. I think that's scary and kinda sad and really, really awesome! I dreamed that I gave all my stories a title. Now that I'm awake, I am at a loss. I have no clue what I named them in my dream T.T So they still remain chapter 1, chapter 2, all that boring stuff. My poor babies.

Also, I made an account on fanfiction.net to find a beta. Little did I know that you have to wait a month to get one. Okey, sure. Also I had to wait two days to even post my stories. I know, it's for the best, but my patience is lacking. So just for reference, if you see my stories on ff.net, it's supposed to be there. But only by http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1588764/ Yay!

Update on fic list

Tue, 27 May 2008 20:07:33 GMT

It's seriously starting to wrack up. *shudders* Scary. I have lots of work ahead. The good thing is that summer is only three days away.

List of Projects I Started but Forgot About (in order of importance to finish)
1) SxR (Loveless)
2) MnM (Desu Noto)
3) Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts II)
4) HxK (Yu Yu Hakusho)
(*) Original

Huh... would ya look at that. List got shorter. *throws confetti* I need an editor!!! Should I set up deadlines? (No, I don't even know what deadlines are.) Screw it. I started on a story for the fun of it with original characters cuz I wanted to see if I could make a vampire story. My brother won't read it because it's guy on guy T.T Why can't I have 2 gay brothers instead of only one?! Life is so unfair >.> Twisted. I don't mind too much.

Well, new story >.>

Sat, 24 May 2008 20:03:06 GMT

Ignoring the fact that this was supposed to be posted about a week ago, here's my DxS story. Only just now is it occurring to me that only three people on this planet actually know who Dextera and Sinistra are. It makes me sad. They're like incest, except I can't remember if they're related. I don't care enough to research it. They're hot together and tis all that matters! Um... about the plot. I have NO CLUE what's going on. Like, none. Some shit about pocky. So, as writer, you all have my permission to skip to the sex. I will not be offended. Matter of fact, when I edit it, I ignore the first five paragraphs. And the last three. They're unimportant. Enjoy. Actually, no, don't enjoy. I'm making it PWP. *edits out plot and adds more sex* Ah, so much better. Kay, now enjoy.

“Hurry up.” He helped Dextera remove his pants after wiggling off his own. Sinistra lied on his back and readjusted his legs so that one was draping over the back of the couch and the other with its foot on the ground. “Is this alright?” he inquired.

Dextera hesitated for a moment. The position in itself was fine, but Sinistra looked slightly uncomfortable. “Um… you don’t want to take your shirt off first or anything?” He hoped he didn’t sound like he was stalling. In truth it was that and the fact that he was completely naked while the other man was not.

To his surprise Sinistra smiled and yanked off his shirt without further argument. “You really are nervous,” he stated. “It doesn’t matter to me what position I’m in, Dextera.” He was beginning to grow impatient, stroking his already hard member lazily. “Just hurry up.”

Needing no further encouragement, Dextera removed Sinistra’s hand from its place around his erection. He pinned it above his head along with the other. Sinistra’s eyes were still closed tight, but his breathing calmed down. Dextera leaned in to kiss him, tongues softly wrestling with each other. Without warning, he pushed inside him slowly, painfully, until he felt the tight ring of muscle give way. It felt like it was taking an eternity, he was going so slowly, but by the strangled cries of pain Sinistra was making, Dextera knew he couldn’t risk going any faster.

“D…Dex…please?” he pleaded, moaning and wriggling his hands back and forth. Dextera apologized quietly and let go of his wrists, and in a matter of seconds he was clutching to Dextera’s back, fingernails digging desperately into the firm flesh of his shoulders. His chest heaved as his body rose up to meet Dextera’s, their skin making searing hot contact. Careful not to move his hips even in the slightest for fear of more pain, Sinistra rubbed his pert nipples against the hard muscles of his lover’s upper body.

Finally Dextera was fully sheathed inside. Sinistra’s whole body was tense, his arms wrapped tightly around Dextera’s torso. “You’ve got to relax,” he said with staggering composure, gently unraveling Sinistra’s grip from around him and lying him back down. With firmly shut eyes and tears sprinkled about his face, Sinistra bit the side of his hand harshly to distract himself. It didn’t help. He was hardly used to being filled in such a sensitive place.

“Does it hurt, Sinistra?” he asked caringly. Sinistra nodded timidly but relaxed nonetheless, this time placing his hands lightly on his partner’s neck. Dextera draped his arms around Sinistra, holding him securely in place. “Tell me when,” he all but whispered as he kissed his neck.

“Okay…” Sinistra sighed. He could feel Dextera pulsing inside. Never had he felt anything so strangely satisfying. “G-go ahead," he said. "Ready.”

Dextera moved ever so slightly out and back in with shallow but fluid movements, reveling in the sounds his partner was making. Sinistra buried his face in his shoulder as he beckoned the man to go faster. Feeding off of the encouragement, Dextera thrust into Sinistra once with brute force, a cry escaping Sinistra’s throat as he did so.

“Ouch!” he hissed, pushing Dextera back with all his strength. “Don’t ever do that again!”

Dextera grinned shamelessly at the knowledge that he almost, almost pushed his partner to climax. So very close. “Not even if you beg me?” he questioned playfully.

“No, Dextera, not even then.” He was panting again, and his cheeks were the color of Dextera’s hair. His body throbbed with need around his partner’s firmness, the pain reluctant to subside. Deciding to ignore it, his hips moved ever so lightly. The pleasure greatly outweighed the pain. Regardless of what discomfort met him in the near future, he needed Dextera to move once again inside him, needed to feel the insistent pulsations of his partner’s rigid flesh. “Now,” he started again. “If you don’t mind, kindly resume.”

Once again he leaned over Sinistra, giving him an aggressive kiss as he thrust in, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves for the second time. This round’s kiss was less of a battle due to Sinistra’s complete submission. His body willingly turned to mush as he gave into the pleasing sensations that racked his entire being. Reverberations of bliss reduced his consciousness to heaps of delirium. His own erection tortured him as the slick head rubbed roughly against Dextera’s tight abdomen.

“Dex…ter…a-ah…” he repeated his name between moans and grunts, entwining his legs with the other man’s. His arms snaked around Dextera’s chest in loving passion. He couldn’t think anymore; he could hardly breathe. “Dextera…” He stared into those deep violet eyes as he grew nearer and nearer to release.

Dextera tightened his grip around Sinistra’s waist and pulled him up to sit flush on his lap, pushing himself against his cock in erratic thrusts. Dextera stared with heavy eyelids at where they connected. As Sinistra bounced up and down upon him, penetrating himself in patterned movements, as his high pitched yelps turned nearly into screams, Dextera decided that he would never get enough of watching him. He stared more intently at the twist of his hips, the way his legs trembled when he sinks himself lower on Dextera’s shaft. His movements… Dextera mused, his thoughts clear despite the distraction and pressure around his most sensitive organ. Perfect.

Breaking through his revelry was Sinistra screaming his name in a single earsplitting shriek. Somewhere in the back of his mind Dextera registered that he had probably sunk onto that spot again. He frowned, realizing that his partner was doing all the work. Sinistra’s bellows became more frequent as he neared climax.

“You’re louder than usual, Sinistra,” Dextera commented, sweat sparkling on his skin. “Is it better than you’re used to?”

“Shut…it!” he snapped, angry that Dextera could form coherent sentences still while he could barely see straight. He clamped his muscles down around him in frustration, trying to get a reaction, and tried not to cry out from the sensation. Dextera jerked up further. He failed at his attempt, a strangled cry ripping from his throat. Although it was not the result he had hoped for, Sinistra’s need for release surged with a new urgency. He grinded savagely against Dextera, the bulging cock inside him rubbing insistently on his prostate, sending electricity throughout his veins.

“Dex I…c-can-an’t—ah!” Sinistra’s back arched violently as he came, hot white seed spurting on both their stomachs. Dextera followed soon after, biting harshly on his shoulder. They rode out their climax, Sinistra’s legs trembling still until they collapsed, a wave of exhaustion overtaking them. Dextera shuddered and wrapped his arms around his partner again, speaking softly in unintelligible words. His breath came in cool, contented inhalations and sighs. Perfect.

Sorry, I semi-bullshitted the ending. It could be better, but I'm just happy the ss turned out okay. I swear, editing is like a glass of cold lemonade on a hot summer day amidst the Sahara. Although I wouldn't be caught dead in the Sahara, that geographic death trap. Anywho, tell me what I can do to improve my sex scenes. This was quite literally me practicing when I was bored at my dad's house. I think I'm getting better ^_^ Hope you liked it.

I'm sad (and fat) which makes sat.

Sat, 10 May 2008 20:26:51 GMT

I was just eating Pringles watching vampire knight, and then I reached down into the tube and realized there was nothing left. So I just kinda looked at it. I could've cried. It's like staring into a dark abyss filled with all your fears and failures and disappointments, and then the emptiness of your life at the bottom. That's how I felt just now. I want more Pringles. Sure it's kinda fat to say, but like... I'm pretty sure I would sell my brother for more Pringles. Depends to who, though... I guess.

Um... I'm pretty bored. I should be doing homework or writing my MnM. I'm not about to do either. Why? Because I'm a bitch. A pringleless bitch. Now, I will edit the DexteraxSinistra one. Um... It took like, a few hours to write. It's not epic. It's actually pretty crappy. So, as an apology for writing a half-assed story, I'll notify when the sex starts. Cuz, like seriously, that's the only decent part. Wait, no, that would kinda ruin it. I'll... damnit... Idk I'll figure it out. Really sorry. I'll post it as soon as I'm done editing.

Junjou Romantica, amor mio!

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 01:40:56 GMT

Well, I got 1 and 1/5 pages of my story done >.> if that counts for anything...

So, I'm watching the new yaoi anime Junjou Romantica and lemme say this. IT IS AWESOME. kissing on the first episode. THAT is the kind of stuff that needs to happen ALL OF THE TIME. Like, on everything. I don't even care. Even if it's not yaoi. It needs to happen. I don't even care. Seriously, I don't. ALSO! Vampire Knight is an anime. WHO KNEW!!! I will be watching that two. Zero and Kaname's voices are orgasmic. They should idk... sleep together. I bet Zero makes wonderfully obscene noises in bed.

So bottom line. I love yaoi. ~fin~

Good news first!

Sat, 12 Apr 2008 19:45:28 GMT

Okay! So yesterday I got a new computer. My omah surprised us with it and this dude installed it. The keyboard is much quieter and the screen is much bigger and thinner. Not to mention it operates faster. HOWEVER. The dude that installed it took the other cpu to clean out all the viruses. When he gives it back the old one is going in my ma's room. This is indeed good news. However, all my porn is on that computer. That is not a conversation I wish to have with my mother. Why are two guys having sex? It's nature, ma, it's nature. I won't get away with it. Ooops. I may or may not be screwed. And plus I have no inspiration for boylove (other than my yaoi manga). I'm desolate.

Oh wait... I have the internet. It's practically made for porn. Hm... would ya look at that. And suddenly the world is a brighter place.

Oh my jinkies

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 23:20:21 GMT

I cannot BELIEVE people actually liked my M'n'M. Omfg. So to all of the people that liked it I thank you from the very pit of my soul. I am overflowing with joy and excitement I cannot wait until I finish another one! Praise is like my hardcore cocaine (yes, versus the softcore kind.) *sigh* I'm so happy. I could explode. I think I will.

Just for the sake of it, I have a question. Is Matt better as seme or uke? It won't make a difference in my story, but I'm just curious. I personally like Mello as uke... >.> Actually no they're pretty codominant.

Updated list of Kaa-san's source of joy and delight: (damnit)
1) MxM (Desu Noto)
2) DxS (Kiddy Grade)
3) HxC (Harry Potter)
4) HxK (Yu Yu Hakusho)
5) SxR (Loveless... way down on the list)

So it's starting to wrack up. The list. Well um... DAMMIT.

That is all.

Purple Sky Vomit

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 22:14:17 GMT

I'm so excited (also nervous) that I could puke! Well, I've been nauseous all day but whatever. ANYWHO! Guess who just finished her MXM story like, five seconds ago?! ME!!!!!! So here I am, posting it like the faithful little smut writer I am. If anyone comments on how long it took to get here, I'm setting you on fire. Then, I will inappropriately touch your crispy, dead corpse. Woot!

Title: Chapter Three
Fandom: Desu Noto
Rating: NC-17 (no, I'm serious this time! There is actual sex. *applauds*)
Warning: *can't stop grinning* Well, there is some unruly content so don't read if you're underaged!!! Because after all... I'm seventeen... and I waited to read prawn until I was the appropriate age... right? Everyone does, right? RIGHT.
Pairing: MattxMello
Summary: ... Omg, did I accidentally write a pwp?! That's preeeeetty horrid. I can't tell. Nothing really happens...

He tossed his beloved motorcycle helmet on the counter with no more care than a baker would an egg shell into a trash bin. Matt could tell he was in ill spirits even through the drowsy haze of sleep. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake.

“Hey, Mel,” he called out. Mello turned, anger chilling his voice as well as his gaze.

“I won’t tell you again, asshole. Don’t fucking call me that.” He stepped closer, face to face with Matt. “Unless, of course, you’re looking to test my patience.” He noticed, with a sense of distracted annoyance, that Matt had grown taller than him by a good two inches. He shifted back, putting his hands on narrow hips and balancing his weight on one leg. “You’re taller than me.” He allowed a trace of humor to enter his tone.

Matt cracked a grin. “Yup,” he said, leaning in to give him a kiss. “Either I’m growing or chocolate is stunting your growth.” He kissed him again.

Mello looked away, a foreign expression on his face, one Matt hadn’t seen in all the years he’d known him. His eyes were furrowed and his lips tight, combining into something between what he would look like if he were about to break out in tears, and what he would look like if he were about to shoot him. Matt considered what would happen if he dared to touch him, which resulted in a variety of violent images.

Much to Matt’s relief, Mello walked away, not saying a word more, into their bedroom. The door clicked shut.

It was always like this, Matt on one side of a barrier of whatever kind, on the outside looking in while Mello kept everything to himself. Matt was constantly left without a clue, left to his feeble attempts at breaking down the wall around his lover’s heart. He lied on the couch, a weary stillness about him, for some time, deciding to wait out until Mello decided to come out. Sure, he could do the whole bang at the door and plead to communicate thing, but the effort would be too great. No good would come of it regardless.

After some time, Mello opened the door. Matt didn’t move, didn’t look up, didn’t do anything except breathe and blink. He came over and sat on Matt’s lap, resting his head on his chest.

“Mello?” he tried, squirming slightly to try and get a look at his face.

“What.” Mello’s voice was barely audible.

“What are you doing?” He hoped he didn’t sound accusatory. He didn’t mind him being there. The stillness was nice. The quiet was calming.

“You…” he sat up and did the look-away thing again, this time softer, “like when we do this, right? Just… be with each other… right?”

Matt didn’t understand what he was trying to do, but he went along with it. He raised himself on his elbows and smiled at Mello. “Right,” he said.

Mello cupped his face in his hands and kissed him hard, making Matt fall back. His fingers found their way to dark red locks, tugging softly as the kiss deepened. Matt’s lips moved down to meet the smaller man’s neck, gliding his tongue across the sensitive flesh. He shuddered.

Matt thumbed at the hem of Mello’s boxers (actually, Matt’s boxers that Mello took upon himself to wear around the house) and pulled at them. The whole process was awkward and inefficient and Mello ended up having to stand all the way up to remove them.

“I know I always complain about it, but maybe it’s a good thing you never wear underwear,” Matt said, standing up too.

“I couldn’t very well walk around naked.” And even as Mello said that they both knew that he damn well could walk around naked if he wanted to. They grinned at the mutual thought.

Placing his hands on either side of his waist, Matt guided Mello to lie down on the couch where he was just moments before. The grin was still plastered on his face, although it had vanished completely from Mello’s. Matt spread his legs gently and rubbed his inner thighs, positioning himself over him.

“Uh, Matt? Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Mello ranted, planting his foot on Matt’s cheek and pushing with all his might. “Cut that out you son of a bitch!” Matt ignored the pain and held his ankle, pulling his leg away and placing it over his shoulder. “Matt! don’t be an idio—”

Matt plunged two fingers in Mello’s mouth mid-sentence. That, oddly enough, seemed to have sedated him at least for the time being. He sucked and swirled his tongue skillfully and obediently until they were satisfyingly drenched. Matt pulled out his fingers and thrust both into Mello. He lunged forward and elicited an uncharacteristically high pitched yelp at the intrusion, immediately covering his mouth. With his free hand he clawed murderously at the fabric of the couch, muttering angry foreign words to himself.

“Does it hurt?” Matt asked, pushing Mello back down. He squirmed more and looked up at Matt, this time directing his Slavic curses the red head’s way. Somewhere in his ramblings it turned into English (filthy English, but English nevertheless.)

“Weird, it’s so uncomfortable, fuck, could you be a bit more—” He shouted once again, this time from pleasure due to the bundle of nerves Matt had hit. Pleased that he’d found it, he focused on that and added another finger, then one more. Mello was far past focus on the pain of it and was moaning Matt’s name deliriously, still clawing at the poor furniture.

Seeing him sufficiently prepared, Matt pulled away his fingers. Mello’s face grew pale as death, his harsh breathing held. He opened his mouth to shout, but Matt acted before he could, sliding into him slowly. It was all Mello could take not to give in completely to his sweet torture. “Please,” he pleaded vaguely. Matt was not one to refuse him and quickly sheathed himself in full.

They stayed like that for a spell, both breathing impossibly heavy. As he started moving, thrusting in and out in even motions, Mello screamed in pure surprise, burying his face in the nape of Matt’s neck. He was speaking again in whatever language, this time softly between moans and sighs. Matt was far from caring that he couldn’t comprehend a word of it. It was the way he said it that was utterly erotic, his voice low and sultry. “Matt… I… ah…,” he began, not even able to construct coherent phrases. Matt’s rhythm was so perfect and the penetration so deep it felt as though the very core of him was being stroked, caressed, fondled. Mello gripped tightly to Matt’s shoulders, his sounds becoming louder.

“Wait…” he said, panting wildly, his eyes closed shut. “Stop,” he said reluctantly. Matt obeyed, ceasing his movement as Mello raised himself up, bringing down his leg from Matt’s shoulder. He ruffled at his hair, still trying to get his breathing under control. He hunched over on himself, a horrible posture that vaguely reminded Matt of…

“Oh my fuck you’re reminding me of L!” He shook Mello into a less disturbing position. “Never do that during sex again. Ever.”

Disregarding the fact that Matt was dead fucking serious, Mello smiled one of his rare, genuine smiles. “I think he’s hot,” he said, smirking.

“Shut up,” Matt mumbled indistinctly as he pulled Mello into his lap. Mello clenched his teeth again from the dull pain as Matt reentered, the tight, sore muscles not wanting to give way. Mello lifted himself up and descended upon him again, each entrance somehow more satisfying than the last. He no longer could control the sounds he was making, nor could he manage to put together his thoughts enough to care. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear Matt too, moaning his name, mumbling curses and obscenities the likes of which could only be beaten by Mello himself. His words were intoxicating. Holding on to this thought, onto the sound of his voice and the way his lips parted as he breathed and moved subtly as he spoke, Mello quickened his pace. He placed both hands lightly on the base of Matt’s neck. Needing to feel his skin in some way, he rubbed and kissed and caressed the soft flesh, ignoring the uncomfortable scratching of Matt’s jeans on his thighs.

Feeling himself close to climax but also remembering his initial promise to himself to get Mello off first, he reached for Mello’s throbbing cock where it stood against Matt’s shirt, rubbing against him with each thrust. Matt wrapped his hand firmly around the swollen member, pumping his fist hard and fast. Mello screamed and thrust just as hard and just as fast in coordination to his ministrations, clawing his nails into Matt’s shoulders. He wrapped his arms around Matt as he let go of his cock and grabbed onto his waist, helping Mello ride him with greater force.

“Matty I…ah. Harder. Please oh please Matt fuck me harder!”

Matt never knew Mello to be one to beg but here he was. Who was he to refuse him? He threw him down and fell on top of him, lifting him up for a better angle. Matt slammed into the small body beneath him mercilessly, almost as mercilessly as Mello was clawing at his shoulders. His hands had somehow found their way underneath his shirt. “Matt I—!” he panted, his voice curling higher as he came, spurting hot sticky seed over Matt’s striped shirt and scraping violently down his back in one long, agonizing motion. It may have been the feel of the utterly satisfying bruises forming on his back or the way Mello’s muscles clamped down on his painfully hard cock, but Matt came as well almost simultaneously. They held each other close for a moment, both completely worn out, until Matt spoke first.

“Hey Mel, did you just call me Matty?”

To his surprise, Mello blushed. “Yeah, so? It was only once.” He did the look-away face. His red cheeks against his snow-pale skin was beautiful.

“I don’t have a problem with it or anything it’s just that… it’s kinda gay.” Matt grinned goofily down at Mello who was blushing darker than ever.

“Well I’m sorry! I can’t control what I say when I’m being fucked senseless. I only just realized that I was mumbling random facts about Russian communism when we first started.”

Matt grinned even wilder. “Was it that good?”

Mello rolled his eyes and pushed Matt off of him. “Oh shut up,” he said. “You called me ‘Mel’ your first time on bottom.”

“Still do!” he retorted, giving the blonde a kiss. “Now let’s never mention my first time again, if you don’t mind.”

Mello shrugged and stood up (ignoring how much pain he was in) and took Matt’s hand, leading them to their bedroom.

“Let’s take a bath together, Matty,” he said, tugging him toward the bath. Matt couldn’t help but smile inwardly.

“The new nickname isn’t exactly an ‘I love you too’ but I suppose it’s a start,” he said, knowing what would come next.

Mello turned to Matt, smiling too. He remembered his words earlier that day while driving home, Matt sleeping against his back. I love you. “Well,” he said, turning back to draw the hot water. “Good luck waiting for one, asshole, ‘cause I’m not going to say it.”

Afterword! Since MxM is the hottest couple in DN, I'm going to write another one about Matty's first time just cuz I think deflowering people is so cute ^_^ It will not be around anytime soon. Just to warn. Um... please leave comments on what ya'll think, as long as it's constructive. If it's not, I'll pretty much just disregard it. Or hunt you down and eat your soul. Either one.

Stomach Ulcer?

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 11:01:32 GMT

Yaaay!!! There is actual sex in my next chapter! I AM AS GIDDY AS A SCHOOL GIRL. Zomg, aaaah! I'll have it done and posted by the end of the week. Already have more than two whole pages^^ (only cuz my raging hormones kept me up all night until my brother kicked me out the room) Anywho! Yerples.

Um, so recently I decided that I wanted to be a June manga novelist (part time) because I love writing. It's like my second nature, and I want to spread the joy of BL across the nation and even possibly the entire world. However! The website doesn't say anything about job opps so I'm sort of confused. Maybe getting a job doesn't happen the way I think it does... *never had a job before* Oh, I'll make it happen somehow. BELIEVE IT! *shakes fists*

Oh, one more thing to add to my list of fic to bs:
HermoinexCho (Harry Potter) Sorry, it was a request by a friend. *shudders* Yuri gives me stomach ulcers.

Peer Pressure Pwns

Sat, 05 Apr 2008 00:45:31 GMT

Yes! Alliteration number two of the week! Okay, it sucks, but I'm starting on MxM chapter three like, now. Like literally, the first scene is floating in my head. I have a suprise!!! Guess who's uuuukeeee!!! Give you a hint, starts with an M! *giggles* Anywho, I've decided to not put it off any longer. Also, while at my dad's house, I'll get the DxS fic (I finally got my hands on a flash drive! Borrowed from a friend >.>) So I'll post that when I get home MOST LIKELY. AAAAANNNNNDDDD... the stinking HieixKurama I wrote the plot for but never started. I'll "start" on that too (as in not really). I give myself too many assignments. So, here is the list.

Fics Kaa-san has to ~~bullshit~~ ~~procrastinate on~~ write:
HieixKurama (Yu Yu Hakusho)
DexteraxSinistra (Kiddy Grade which is actually a ecchi/shoujo-ai... *can find yaoi pairings in anything*)
SoubixRitsuka (Loveless) aka the death of me
MelloxMattxMello (Death Note which I will start calling Desu Noto just cuz it makes me feel cool)

Zomg, geometry on the brain, melloxmattxmello= mattmello squared! (or does it...)

That is all.

I'm such a goober

Thu, 20 Mar 2008 02:22:57 GMT

Alrighty, I just finished reading the last of Fruits Basket. Oh my gosh. I could cry. Matter of fact, I did cry. I called my brother to try and explain but he got pissed off because he thought something was really wrong. Something was wrong. It's called a happy ending. Bite me. I don't know what to do with myself right now... so sad... but it is just a story. Must remember... just a... story...

Anyway. I've come to terms with the fact that I am a dirty, dirty procrastinator. I am a whore for distraction and that will never change. The list is starting to rack up.

STORIES KAA-SAN HAS TO FINISH:
The MellxMatt story that has about two chapters already. Will there be a third? Suck it.

The Loveless fic. Now, that one's not as old. It's only been a few weeks... >.>

The good news is I did write a one-shot. Just to practice my sex scenes. If one will notice, none of my stories so far have crossed that taboo line. Except for the yuri ones I wrote but honestly ew, girl-love is boring. Now! I will be posting the uno-shoto later when I find a way to get it from my dad's house to here. *lost my flash drive, has no way of transporting data, father has no internet* It's Kiddy Grade fandom with Dextera and Sinistra, the single most joygasmic couple know to that entire series ^_^

Ja!

Chocolate rhymes with Orgasm

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 02:04:47 GMT

If you dance in a puddle of chocolate, it's the same as loosing your virginity in the back seat of a stranger's car. Remember that.

So I might quite possibly be a) high b) drunk or c) super duper excited. Seeing as how I do not possess drugs and would get my ass kicked if I got drunk, let's go with C! I just finished typing up and editing chapter three of my Loveless (because I type and edit at the same time *lazy?*). I could brood over it for another five days but I'm so pleased that people are actually reading that, well, I'll toss it on out there! Plus I'll be packed for homework this week >.> Aaaanywho. Here goes nothin^_^

Title: Betrayal
Rating: R (Yes! I've been promoted!)
Summary: Never ever ever. Ugh.
Warning: Rape, intoxication, and excessive use of expletives. All the good stuff.
Disclaimer: Once again, Yun Kouga didn't accept my bribery of trading my freedom for the rights to Loveless. Perhaps since she's married, she doesn't need a sex slave. What a nuisance.
Heads-up: The XXX is beginning of flashback. Just fyi in case it isn't as obvious as I think. Also, reading previous chapters is highly recommended. They're intertwined. This chapter is Chapter 2.7, basically chapter two in Ritsuka's POV I guess.

Enjoy.

I was serious. Dead fucking serious, and the son of a bitch laughed. My eyes narrowed as I stared at him. “Hey there, jerk, I wasn’t joking.”

The laughing continued. I wanted to punch him, kick him, get his attention. There’s no way I could without injuring him, though, because that’s what punching and kicking is for. Hurting people. I don’t hurt people. I stayed still.

It dimmed down to just a small chuckle every once in a while until he looked up and opened his mouth to speak.

“That was really cute,” he said. “But you can’t possibly be for real. You’re fifteen.”

I rolled my eyes. “This is becoming more troublesome than it’s worth. Fuck me or I’ll find someone who will. Four people outside already more or less asked. You should know firsthand that university students have nothing against casual sex.”

He knew I wouldn’t. I knew I wouldn’t. What was I saying? There was a nagging want in the back of my mind that wasn’t there this morning or this evening or before—

“Judging by how long it took for you to let me even kiss you, I’d say you wouldn’t let anyone even touch you, nevertheless fuck y—”

“Why are you being so difficult!” I screamed before I could stop myself. Soubi was taken aback, mouth agape in the interrupted formation of words, just blinking at me. My head was spinning. “Forget it forget it forget it!” I yelled even louder. I sounded like a madman. My words sounded like they were coming from someone else’s mouth.

“Okay, Ritsuka, okay. Just calm down,” he told me, forever the serene adult. Forever mellow. Forever in control. And what the hell did I control? Not even Soubi was listening to me. Of course not! I wasn’t even his real master. Soubi still belongs to him. Nothing is mine! Everything belongs to—

I got up from the bed, suddenly disgusted by the thought of him, but my headache wouldn’t allow it. It felt like someone had hit me in the back of the head with a brick. I lurched forward to catch my balance, but my legs felt like jello. They gave way without a fight, my knees buckling and my body hitting the floor with a harsh thud. I would have acknowledged how badly that hurt my shoulder were my head not screaming.

No. Screaming was the wrong word. Blaring. A thousand sirens were blaring inside my head, and I was the one screaming. I couldn’t hear it, but I could feel it. The screams felt like my throat was being ripped out. My body was trembling in a way I didn’t know was possible.

Then my head went silent, so I did too, save for my heavy panting. I just sort of lied there, still trembling, thinking “well that was weird.” I tried to get up but couldn’t. I felt like I was about to throw up my heart, as disgusting as that sounds.

Just as the lust sat in the back of my mind earlier, relentlessly nagging, now a different thing pulled at me. It was fuzzy and white and far off, calling me to close my eyes. Sleep? Okay. I wasn’t tired per se, but sleep never hurt anyone. I closed my eyes and submitted to the whiteness calling to me.

XXX

“Ritsuka!” I heard someone yell at me as I pushed through the crowd, making my way back to the kitchen with a glass of water one of Kio’s friends gave me. I halted, and turned around, scowling. Who knew me well enough to call me in such a friendly tone? Yuiko surely wasn’t here, and it wasn’t Soubi’s voice. I wasn’t interested in befriending anyone other than that at the moment. Especially in an environment like this.

I turned to meet them, the fool waving coolly in the dim light, his curly hair bouncing with each step as he approached me… “Seimei?!”

He smiled and stood close. I was almost his height with just an inch or two to go. That made me smile, but it faded as I saw him lean closer. “What are you doing here?” he said, trying to speak over the loud music and buzzing conversations.

“I was just getting something to drink,” I responded, holding up my glass of water to show him. I knew he didn’t mean what I was doing at the moment, but rather what was I doing at a party full of half-drunk university students. Well, some full drunk.

He took the cup from me and shook it slightly. It fizzed and bubbled, oddly enough. Maybe it was soda instead. Seimei plastered a disgusted look on his face and wrinkled his nose. “Don’t drink from open glasses just lying around like that,” he said, staring at the red and white plastic cup as if it were Persephone herself in Christmas getup. I decided not to tell him that it wasn’t ‘just lying around’, one of the guys gave it to me. He seemed displeased enough. I looked at it, then up at him, then back down to the cup. I didn’t see the same evil he did.

He set it down nearby and smiled, handing me a water bottle. “Here, take this.” I unscrewed the cap and took a gulp and, well, my throat caught fire. Not the regular candle type of fire that’s dangerous but still moderately tame, the chemically induced, impossibly hot type of fire that burns bright blue and white. The so-called “water” (which I had reason to believe was actually gasoline) slid down my throat and incinerated every inch of my mouth it reached.

“Seimei, what the hell was that?!” I asked between coughs. He got an expression of hurt on his face.

“It’s vitamin-packed mineral water. You don’t like it?”

I sputtered nervously, trying to reassure him that I didn’t not like it. He leaned in close and spoke directly in my ear, music blaring around his voice.

“I can hardly hear you, Ritsuka. Come on, let’s go out back and talk.”

He walked me back where the crowd started to thin a bit. I knew which way we were going even if he didn’t (I’d been at Kio’s house many times visiting with Soubi), but the question was did I want to follow, and more or less did I have a choice. A warning in the back of my mind insisted that I not be alone in a room with Seimei.

My thoughts drifted fluidly from panic to anger. Fate is one sadistic son of a bitch, I thought. Perhaps that’s why he works so heavily in my brother’s favor. They are cut from the same cloth.

I knew where he was leading me. Back to one of the rooms. The dark, empty, private rooms in Kio’s house. I logically deduced that I was, in a word, screwed. The scene played out clearly in my head like a movie on a wide-screen plasma television:

Seimei would lead me into a room.

Seimei would oh-so innocently tell me to take a seat on the bed. To relax. Take my shoes off. Lay down and take a break with him and he would… he would—

“Hey, big brother!” I said, hoping he wouldn’t hear my uneasiness. “Let’s go out back to the patio instead. “There’s only a few people there, and the stars are beautiful! Remember we’d always stargaze when I was little?”

His voice took on an odd tone. “You’re older now, Ritsuka. Forget about the things you did when you were younger. Grow the hell up.”

I mentally took a step back, my cheeks burning with shock. His tone was way harsher than usual. His odd behavior made me agitated.

“And plus!” he said, opening the door to one of Kio’s bedrooms. Ironically, it was the one I always slept in when I needed a place to get away from mother. It held painful memories. “You would probably get bored,” he continued, flicking on the bedside lamp. “You’d be bored and, since it’s September, fairly cold. Sorry I don’t have another jacket.” He smiled and beckoned me to sit, so I did.

I couldn’t tell him that he was wrong about me getting bored, that Soubi and I stargazed all the time late at night, that I found it to be the most relaxing thing to feel so insignificant, falling asleep in Soubi’s arms as far-off celestial beings danced above us. No, I had a feeling that if I mentioned Soubi, things would turn for the worst.

“Lay down,” he said suddenly, interrupting my calm thoughts. I didn’t have time to disobey as he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down, sitting on my thighs. His hands felt rough and calloused against my skin. I made a motion to get up, but he wouldn’t allow it, holding me firmly in place with one hand and removing my pants with the other. Great day to opt out of underwear, yet another bad habit picked up from Soubi.

I waited patiently as he pulled off my pants, just sort of lying there. It’s the same as with mom: Just sit and wait until it’s over. That’s all you can do. I’m used to it, I told myself. It doesn’t hurt or anything. Not saying it’s right when he does this, but he is always gentle so… I suppose it’s okay.

I rationalized this way in my mind until I saw him unzipping and removing his pants too, carefully folding them and placing them on the dresser.

“Seimei?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowed. I willed my body to move away from him, but it didn’t obey. He easily turned my limp body over to my stomach and hovered over me and—

“Ah!” I choked out as he pushed into me forcefully, fully sheathing himself in one brutal thrust. I clawed at a pillow lying somewhere nearby to distract me from the pain. It didn’t work. It was so vivid, a pain I had never experienced before. I begged for him to stop, or slow down, or give me a minute to adapt or something, anything.

He pulled out all the way and slammed into me again, hitting something deep inside myself that made me clench my teeth and made my head spin. A strangled cry escaped my throat as he pushed harder against it, making my muscles tighten around him. I could hear him gasp and moan as he worked himself in and out of me, his movements erratic and needy.

To my surprise he stopped and flipped me back over. I closed my eyes and turned away, not wanting to see him or for him to see me, not wanting to be there, not wanting to accept the fact that it was my brother doing this to me.

I heard him moving on the bed again. He grabbed my knees and pushed them to my chest, simultaneously spreading them apart and positioning himself to enter me once again. My eyes shot open to stare at him. I felt stupid for thinking it’d be over. He is, after all, his mother’s child. Killing me little by little, never quick. Of course.

It hurt my heart in a way unlike Misaki hurt it. He always protected me. He actually loved me and accepted me, but why this? Did I make him angry somehow? I was willing to apologize about the drink, or about being at an adult party, or about whatever else I could’ve possibly done to deserve this. I stared up at him, thick tears welling up in my eyes. “Seimei, please… don’t…”

He smiled sickeningly, making my heart wrench. How could he possibly pretend to be kind after this?

He entered me again no less roughly than before, if not even more so, panting and sweating and moaning in a way that made my stomach churn. The room reeked of sex and body heat. I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out, just a rush of air. I couldn’t stop shaking.

Tears streamed down my face freely, searing further already burning cheeks. My whole body was being smoldered by anger and shame as he clawed at my hips, gripping desperately. His movements didn’t cease urgency until I felt his body stiffen. He came inside me, hot and violent and wet.

He sat up and just stared at me. I must have looked pathetic with my inaudible sobs and messed up hair. I looked up and boldly met his eyes. The look he gave me wasn’t sadistically satisfied like I thought it’d be. He looked put off, as if I were the one who had offended him.

I opened my mouth to speak, my voice small. “Seimei, I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

He snorted and stood, reapplying his clothing. He walked out of the room without a word, slamming the door behind him. I didn’t need to look down to know I was bleeding, but I did anyway.

“What?!” I gasped as I saw my erection standing at full attention, plain as day. Nothing about what had just happened was exciting. Nothing. It was dirty and wrong and painful and humiliating! So then why?

I jumped up and ran to the bathroom, turning the shower water on as hot as it would allow and stood there, crying and scrubbing at every inch of my skin. I watched all my bandages fall to the floor. I felt my hair get in my eyes as my skin steamed. I cried harder.

After a bit I stopped scrubbing, turned off the water, dried off. I put my pants back on. I fixed my hair. I sat back down. My movements felt robotic and unnatural.

“Soubi,” I called to the dim, open air.

I sat, not completely still, shifting uncomfortably every once in a while. My ass sort of hurt. Wait, no no no. That’s an understatement. It stung like hell. I shifted again, the leather rubbing against my skin. No seriously.

Soubi burst through the door, and I tried my hardest to wipe the grimace off of my face. I patiently waited for him to come over, extending my arms and calling out to him. When our skin made contact it was repulsive. I became aware of everything, every molecule of filth my body possessed. Our kiss didn’t feel like a kiss, just a touching of the lips and wrestling of tongues. I didn’t care.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and began grinding in earnest. It felt good somewhere in the back of my mind, but I needed more. The perfect counter to the slime would be spending the night with Soubi, the one I love, instead of being… instead of having someone like him come along and… and—

I put more effort in my movements as I inadvertently remembered something I forgot to forget. I nibbled on his earlobe where I’d pierced him long ago. I remembered how I’d blushed, how scared I was that I had hurt him. He had just gritted his teeth and bore it. I was the weak one.

I knitted my fingers roughly in his hair and kissed him deeper, needing him to be compliant and out of control just this once. He looked up and, much to my annoyance, pushed me away, speaking as though he had discovered something new.

“Ritsuka.” Something boiled dark crimson in my heart at the sound of my name. No, I thought. I’m not Ritsuka. Not right now. I don’t want to be. Ritsuka is in pain again, and I’m tired of it! I’ll be someone else, someone not so easily hurt.

His voice broke through my thinking. “What are you doing?”

I don’t know what I said. I went through a rainbow of emotions and opened my mouth, trusting it to form words to convey those feelings.

There was the beginning of a hell of a headache forming in my head again. It pulsed and throbbed and blocked out even the sound of my own voice.

“Think of it as your birthday present,” I felt myself say as whatever controlled my body lied back, making me open and ferociously vulnerable.

The look of uncertainty on Soubi was almost intoxicating. I shifted seductively, spreading my legs farther still as he leaned over me. I bit my lip and tried my hardest to breathe evenly. I turned my head to the side ever so slightly, my subtle movements reeking of apathy and unabashed desire. “Soubi,” I pulled him to me and pressed our bodies closer and closer until I could feel him clear against me. “Tear me apart,” I said, demanding him and therefore reassuring him. He hesitated and looked up at me, and I smiled, cold as ice. “That’s an order.”

Kay, well there we are. Please comment! Ya'll's opinions are like my smut-writer heroin. Yum, heroin.

Chapter Two, Betches ^_^

Mon, 18 Feb 2008 02:31:57 GMT

I am so fucking pumped. Ah! Today was a wonderful day. So, I reward thee with the gift of guy on guy love. Teehee, funny story with this. Okay, I was at me dad's house typing up meh storeh and my brother was in his room with me, ye? Sou he saw it and was like "Jessica what are you doing!" hehe cuz he had saw a um... less than appropriate word (guess which one) and so um yeah. Heh, I felt like a pervert. Because I am. I got over it. *has written much worse than this* Anywho... voila! Mon histoire finit! Hope you all like it!

Title: Senseless
Rating: PG-13? Once again, not good at rating so much.
Fandom: Loveless
Warning: Um... there's one. An inconsistency with my story. Okay, Ritsuka leaves the kitchen to get a drink of water. I reread it today and was like, what the hell? Isn't there water in the kitchen? But besides that no warnings.
Oh... Except for rape and further questionable actions. Sowwy.
Summary: No.
Disclaimer: Yun Kouga disagreed to me exchanging my body and self esteem for rights to the story. Bummer.

He was gorgeous. Skintight black leather pants with dark green lace, an unnecessary belt hanging lazily on his hips, shifting with ever step. An impossibly small top comfortably resting just two inches above his waist, once again with green crisscrossed lace everywhere his skin showed, everywhere but the sides. Alternating black and green bracelets skillfully set on his wrists. A black choker complemented his elegant neck with a green butterfly to the side. The whole outfit was perfect to say the least, showing enough skin to be provocative but not suggestive, hugging the skin tight enough to display how slender he was, but in all the right places to show he was most certainly not a child. Not to mention the way the leather accentuated the subtle curve of his hips; it could bring any man to his knees in a heartbeat. So yes, he was gorgeous. But as he stood in front of me, picking at a bandage on his cheek absent mindedly, I noticed one thing above all others: Ritsuka was unbearably hot and didn’t even notice. He didn’t stand with his hips jutted out to the side teasingly, or lick his lips suggestively like some women shamelessly do when I catch his eye. Instead, he stood straight as a stick, one arm stuck awkwardly behind him and the other busy scratching at that bandage. He was totally oblivious to the fact that he was lovely, and for some reason that cluelessness made him all the sexier.

“Soubi,” he said, looking at me from the side, speaking quietly so that only I could hear. “Soubi, everyone’s staring at me.”

I looked around and smiled. He was right. The whole room had almost completely turned when the two of us walked in. It was only for a moment then until the attention switched to me, but now that all the happy birthdays were dished out, people were free to shift their attention. Men and women alike were staring unabashedly.

I wondered if Ritsuka was used to this. It was normal for him, I supposed, to feel a tad bit out of place. Everyone there at the party was a university student and he was barely a high school student, yet he was getting these… looks. Perhaps he didn’t know how to interpret them. I wondered if letting him come was a good idea or not, but what would a birthday be without him? I took his hand and led him toward the kitchen.

“Let’s find Kio.”

He didn’t resist as we bustled through the crowd, his hand in mine, making a beeline for Kio’s kitchen.

He didn’t resist as we bustled through the crowd, his hand in mine, making a beeline for Kio’s kitchen. There was sure to be no one there. He hates when people skulk around while he’s trying to cook.

As soon as I opened the door, my senses were filled with pure ecstasy. I instantly recognized all of my favorite foods. I wasn’t hungry, though. I glanced back at Ritsuka who was watching Kio busily prepare food for everyone.

“Soubi, I’m thirsty,” he said as he turned to leave. “I’ll find you later. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone,” he said warningly.

As he walked away, I reached out for his arm and pulled him to me, giving him an open-mouthed kiss. “Is that an order, Ritsuka?” I smiled.

He blushed and mumbled, “I’ll be right back.”

I turned to an irritated looking Kio. He opened his mouth to speak.

“If my cake falls because of you, birthday boy or not, I’ll kill you.”

“It couldn’t possibly fall with all the love you stuffed into it, right?” I retorted, smirking. He smiled back, walking up to give me a tight hug. It was nice, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, his head resting comfortably on my chest. He was mumbling something incoherent.

“Kio?” I pulled him away and was met with a tear-stained face. “Don’t tell me you’re getting all emotional. I'm only one more year older.”

He looked puzzled. “What? No,” he said. “It’s just…” he sniffled and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. “It’s just that you’re so much warmer.”

I stared at him, slightly confused. He chuckled and clarified. “Happier, I mean. I’m really glad. You’re much happier.”

When I simply stood there, not knowing what to say, he turned back to tend to the food. He opened the oven and stuck a fork in the cake, seeing if it was done. “Hey Sou-chan,” he said. “I can’t believe it, can you?”

“Hm? Believe what?” I inquired.

“That kid,” he continued. “He looks like a fucking demigod. Who knew he had it in him? Now that he’s older, I think it’s okay for me to say this—”

“Watch it, Kio.”

“What? It’s information solely for your benefit.”

“No thanks, Kio.”

“Okay…” He mumbled quickly, trying to get it all out before I could interrupt him. “I was just going to say that with a body like that he could go on for hours not to mention his long legs that could most likely inspire the destruction of the pyramids and make even pharaohs give up the afterlife in exchange for a few minutes in a dark room with him alright so cake’s done!” He quickly wrapped it up and turned away.

“Pyramids and pharaohs, eh?” It was amusing the analogies he came up with.

“Fine, ignore that part. But seriously, Sou-chan.” He turned to face me as he spoke. “Young plus drop-dead sexy equals fun. If you train him right, just imagine the stamina he’d build.” He started nodding in content agreement with himself, speaking in a very matter of fact tone. “Yep, Sou-chan. Hours and hours of fun.”

“Hey,” I grinned at his shamelessness, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “I already know that.”

“Wait a second... You didn’t—but—his ears are—you couldn’t—” he sputtered, eyes as big as saucers.

“No, I didn’t Kio.”

“Don’t lie to me you bastard!”

“Stop yelling, Kio. I’m not lying. You saw his ears.”

“They could be fake! They sell those now, you know.”

“I doubt they would produce ones to match his hair color so dead-on, right? It’s like, black-purple. No one else is like that.”

He ignored me. “I wouldn’t put it beneath you if you did take them, you filthy pervert! If you need someone to have your way with, I’m available any time, but not the kid! He’s young and innocent and sexy and innocent!”

“I’m not a pervert, Kio,” I stated, cutting his monologue short. He just sort looked at me for a while, then turned back to cooking.

“On any note,” he said. “He’s been gone for quite a bit. I’d go see if he ran into any trouble if I were you.”

I chuckled nervously. “Why would he get into trouble?” It didn’t add up, what he was saying. It was a birthday party, not a dance club. “This is your place, Kio. Everyone respects you. No one would try anything.”

He turned around, shooting me a look of disbelief. “Naivety must be contagious. Don’t be an idiot, go look for him!” I didn’t understand his urgency.

He all but shoved me out of the door. I didn’t have the mind to argue.

XXX

After combing through the crowd for a few minutes, then I felt it. Certain experiences are impossible to explain, like attempting to tell of color to a person who has never experienced sight. It’s something up close and personal. I heard him call my name, but there was no actual sound. It was more like… a sort of pang at my heart. His desperation made me feel thinner and panicked, made my heart race. I was excited, thrilled even! Every emotion my sacrifice wanted to convey to me resounded clearly in my heart, forming a coherent message. To be connected: it’s surreal in the most satisfying of ways.

I placed my hand on the knob of one of Kio’s doors and felt the same pang again screaming, “Correct!” I burst through the door—was it locked? It didn’t resist much—and saw the source of my master’s distress.

Or… I thought I did. For a split second, I thought I did see it. But it passed, submitted to the image of him sitting on the bed. I found it odd that his shirt was off, and there was a thin sheet of sweat covering him for some reason.

“Hey, Soubi!” He extended his arms to me and beckoned me closer. He pulled me into a kiss, roughly plunging his tongue into my mouth. Finally Ritsuka was showing the aggression I knew he was capable of. But I’ll admit, it was a bit sudden. I wondered what was up…

While I was distracted with my thoughts, Ritsuka so boldly wrapped his legs tightly around my waist and began grinding, making the kiss deeper. “Soubi…” he moaned, splaying out his fingers to yank my shirt over my head. I could swear his voice set fire to my veins, sent chills down my spine. I sucked on his neck just where I knew it would drive him wild, the sensitive place directly where his shoulders meet, and he rewarded me by digging his fingers painfully into my shoulders, moaning louder, hips undulating with even more force.

“Soubi, please,” he breathed, pushing me away and over to my back. He was on top of me in a matter of seconds, fumbling with my pants and rocking hard on my lap in slow, deep thrusts. When he at last managed to unzip and unbutton my pants, I couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath. I didn’t want him to know how much I was enjoying this.

He smiled. “Do you like it, Soubi?” His smile only grew wider as he elicited a lengthy moan. I couldn’t help it! His hands had found their way inside my jeans and around my impossibly hard member, giving it firm pumps in time with his thrusts.

I couldn’t let him continue. Wouldn’t let him continue. I would never let him be tainted in such a way. But those thoughts were only on one side of my mind. The other was preoccupied with how unbelievably satisfying Ritsuka’s ministrations felt. It was like the ultimate battle between good and evil raging in my cerebral cortex, and poor me just sort of there, waiting for one side to win.

Luckily, I didn’t have to make a choice. Ritsuka’s movements stopped on it’s own accord. He pulled his fingers away and licked them, sucked them, one by one, which may or may not have been the most erotic sight I’ve ever beheld. Ever.

He reached the last digit still dripping with my precum and paused. He leaned forward, that ever-present smile still plastered on his face, and offered his pinky to me.

For the oddest reason, my body refused to move. So in my mind I had already given into his teasing, but in actuality I was just staring at him. He shrugged as if to say “suit yourself,” and continued to snack on the delight. He made loud, suggestive sucking sounds and moans, and when he was done, he pulled out his finger in such a way that it was an obscene pop noise. He grinned wider at that.

He leaned forward into a kiss again, this time softer but just as urgent. His lips moved gracefully against mine. His tongue played with mine slowly, every once in a while retreating to lick his moist lips, or pulling back to make room so he could nip at mine.

After a while, he pulled away, wiping the corners of his mouth where saliva had accumulated, panting wildly. He had to catch his breath before he spoke.

“Soubi,” he breathed, voice dripping with pure and unhidden lust tinged with something alien to my ears. “Soubi please,” he continued, lying flush on top of me, our sweaty skin sticking to each other in a mess of heat and moisture. His legs were wide apart, creating subtle friction between the two of us as he barely, just barely, rolled his hips against mine.

It took him to start nibbling on my earlobe where he pierced me—a place he knew as a tried-and-true fact could turn me as compliant as a wet noodle—for me to realize where he was going with this.

I grabbed hold of his hips and lifted him off me, him still smiling.

“Ritsuka, what are you doing?” I asked.

One of his ears twitched as his grin turned cold. “Don’t ask foolish questions,” he spit out at me like venom. “I thought you’d get the hint. I want you to fuck me. Tonight. Take my ears, because I don’t want them anymore. Think of it as your birthday present.”

And with that he said nothing else.

He lied on his back submissively, legs sprawled apart and arms over his head. His breathing was irregular, eyes hazed over. “Well. Go on,” he said plainly.

“It will hurt,” I warned.

“Good.” That smile again, this one heavy and bitter. “Go ahead and hurt me. Tear me apart.”

He looked up into my eyes, all defiance and lust and aggression. “Soubi,” he finished. “That’s an order.”

Will Ritsuka loose his dear little ears? ONLY I KNOW MUAHAHAHHAVA! Next chapter will be up soon enough. Hold your breath for it if you want to die ^_^

Sun, 10 Feb 2008 16:35:13 GMT

Title: Painless
Rating: PG? (I guess for violence and shota?)
Fandom: Loveless
Warning: There is no sex. And it's a bit angsty (I hate to admit it) Oh and curse words, but whatever.
Spoilers: >.> No, I don't think so. Other than that Misaki is crazy. As if it weren't obvious.
Disclaimer: I don't own Loveless, the story of Loveless, or any of her characters. Wonder if I sell myself to Yun Kouga if she'll give me rights to it... nah, probably not.
Summary: Kies, because I'm lazy and confused, I won't write a summary. It's a little too in-depth to summarize. (Which means I don't know where I'm going with it.) Enjoy!

“Ritsuka!” Mom yelled at me from the kitchen. “Your friend’s birthday is tomorrow, right? Let’s bake him a cake!” Her voice was sing-song and cheerful.

I hopped out the shower and pulled on some pants. I walked downstairs and saw her. She had eggs, milk, cooking oil, and at least five kinds of batter on the counter. “How’d you know it was her birthday?” I asked. She’d probably been going through my stuff again.

“I just took a peek at your calendar while you were at school… Soubi doesn’t seem like a girl’s name, Ritsuka.” She eyed me suspiciously. It was my fault for lying about something so petty, but it somehow felt safer that way. If her questions started coming, what would I tell her? Oh yeah, Soubi’s my boyfriend. He goes to university. He has no qualms about dating a minor. Yeah, we’re breaking the law. And then what? Give her a thumbs up? Not a chance.

Thankfully, she let it go. “Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, banana, or coconut? Some people absolutely despise coconut, but at least it’s something new. Plus, I thought it was clever how they put little pieces of dried coconut in the batter instead of just making it coconut flavored, you know?” I waited patiently for her to finish.

“Thanks for the trouble, Mom, but I don’t want to make him a cake. We’re going out for his birthday.” Her mouth dropped. As soon as I realized what I had done, I wanted to kick my own ass for being so stupid. I blundered up and said him and his, confirming mother’s suspicions. And of course, she caught my mistake. She was always looking for things that I said, did, or thought that were “un-Ritsuka-like”. Because of course, old Ritsuka never lied. Old Ritsuka would never go running around with some guy. After Seimei left, old Ritsuka was replaced with a cheap, faulty imitation.

“You know,” she began, face tight. “My Ritsuka would bake a cake for his friend. He would because it would make his mother happy.”

I began backing away. “Okay, Mom. I’ll bake it. Just, sometime later, okay?” I wanted to get away. She was drunk. Again.

“No! Do not try to trick me!” She grabbed a knife and inched toward me as she yelled. “I caught you! I CAUGHT YOU! YOU ARE NOT MY RITSUKA!”

She swung the knife like a madwoman, frantic and afraid. A part of me pitied her. I knew, even without the alcohol and medication, her mind wasn’t right. She didn’t know what to do. Her paranoia was a nearly unsolvable issue. But as she swung and broke the skin, I found sympathy a bit hard to feel.

I prayed for her to miss just once so it would be one less wound for her to tend to, but I knew she wouldn’t. At close proximity, she never missed. Some cuts were shallower than others, sure, but the deep ones hurt unmercifully. I found it odd that she never just stabbed me so I could sit and bleed in peace, but that’s the way mother is. She’ll eat away at me little by little so it hurts more until there is nothing left. That’s my punishment for not being Ritsuka.

She threw the bloody knife elsewhere and yanked me up from where I was on the floor trying to cover up as much bare skin as possible. My arms and chest and neck, everything on my upper body, lacked the protection of clothing. I cursed myself inwardly. It would have taken two more seconds to put on a shirt! But no, I had wanted to hurry as to not displease mother. One would think I’d have learned my lesson by now. Either way, mother will always be displeased. The thought has come once or twice that it’s not the booze or the meds or the mental instability that makes her hate me, it’s me. Who I am, what I do, the things I say, everything about me is the object of her discontent. I knew it was true, but whenever such a thought made its way to the surface of my mind, I forced it back down.

She threw me against the counter, my ribs giving a slight crack. She pushed me against the oven, my lower back hitting the handle hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I fell to the floor in a bundle of cut and bruised flesh, hugging myself tight. My wheezing was a plee to the oxygen around me to grace my lungs once again. She kicked me, screaming “Give him back! Give him back!” I didn’t know whether she was talking about Seimei or Ritsuka until she, with an especially hard kick, yelled, “Who are you! Where did you hide my Ritsuka?!”

Another kick, this one connecting with my ribs, and she passed out from exhaustion and stress. Just like that. I had made her that upset, I had gotten her blood pressure that high until her suffering brain decided it was too much and shut down. Only then did I begin to cry.

The sobs shook my body, forcing it to feel every sore that was inflicted. That didn’t hurt nearly as much as my heart did, though. Who are you, she had said. I wanted to ask her the same thing! Who was I to her? What was I to her? A burden. An affliction. Certainly not a son. For me, when Seimei died, I lost a big brother and gained a psychopathic mother. For her, she had lost two sons and gained a stranger. Not only did she not love me, she didn’t even acknowledge my identity and gods did it hurt.

I got up and limped upstairs to wash and tend to my wounds. I had to make haste because I had no clue when mother was going to wake up. I rinsed out my cuts with hot water. They still bled freely. My arms were stiff which made it nearly impossible to apply bandages. I couldn’t reach my back at all, and there was a gash there that could not go unmended.

Reluctantly, I pulled over a shirt, got my keys, and walked to Soubi’s apartment. I hoped he wouldn’t mind.

By the time I got there I was shivering and shaking with cold. I laughed bitterly. She must’ve hit me in the head, too. Why on earth didn’t I bring a sweater?

Soubi’s friend opened the door and greeted me. Well, started to at least, until he cut off with a “God, kid. Come on in.” He shook his head in a what’s-this-world-coming-to way. He called for Soubi.

I walked to his room and sat on his bed. He walked out of the bathroom with bandages and this bubbly stuff that stings like hell when he puts it on my skin. Peroxide or something.

After a good ten minutes of treating me, he still hadn’t said a word. His face was stiff and serious. He was making me nervous. I wanted to apologize, although I wasn’t sure for what, and it’s not like you can say things like that out of the blue. An apology would seem out of place.

I opened my mouth to speak. “Soubi, I—”He got up and knelt in front of me. I tried not to exclaim as he fumbled with my pants, unzipping and unbuttoning them. He beckoned for me to stand, and pulled them down to my ankles.

“Soubi…” I began. He stood and got something from his drawer then turned off the lights.

I could only see his silhouette and hear his footsteps as he shuffled towards me. “Say something,” I ordered. He just smiled and held me close, kissing me softly, making sure his touches were light. I could hardly breathe he was being so gentle. I could feel my skin wanting to jump up, make real contact. His fingers ghosted over me, over every scar and bruise and—

“Soubi!” I jerked away, falling back on the bed. He jumped too, startled by my outburst. I blushed. “Sorry, overreaction.” I rubbed the bruise on my back where he had accidentally pressed. He simply smiled in relief, holding what he took out the drawer and pulling it over my head. One of his shirts. I raised my arms to put them through the sleeves, and lifted up so he could straighten it over my lap.

I lied beside him under the covers. “Are you tired?” he asked, wrapping his arms around my bare waist. I nodded. The clock read 11:47 pm.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Do you want me to stay up until midnight? So I can wish you happy birthday?”

He chuckled, saying “No, no. You can rest. The day will be there when you wake up.” I nodded again, feeling myself slip into sleep. “Ritsuka,” he whispered softly, “I love you…”

XXX

I woke up with a start and a headache. My body was stiff. I woke up alone. I considered calling out his name, but abruptly decided against it. I could hear him in the kitchen.

I lied back in bed, closing my eyes. Being alone in the silence is never a good thing with me. All I do is think, think, think. What’s wrong with me! I’ve gotten over my fear of disappearing. The people around me have more than verified my existence. I’ve gotten over my troubles concerning the love of others; it feels good in a way, the one thing that doesn’t hurt too much. But the anxieties that come with loving someone? It’s like constantly being on pins and needles.

Perhaps it was the significance of waking up alone. I was with him last night; I know I was. I could practically still feel the warmth, the security. I wanted to call out his name. I wanted his presence near to me. Even though I’m older than before, I’m still the bratty Ritsuka I was in grade 6, thirsty for attention.

I got up, my head pounding. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, smoothed out my hair and ears. I tried not to think about the bandage on my face where mother had thrown a well-aimed knife. Nothing big like a butcher’s or a bread knife, not even as big as a butter knife. Paring knife, I think. Whatever it’s called, it sliced through my skin like it was air. I remembered after she “accidentally” did that, she tried putting a Band-Aid on it. I usually protest such things. Mother likes putting the adhesive portion of them directly over the wound so that when I take it off, it reopens and begins to bleed. I exhaled.

“You’re up,” I heard Soubi say. He came to stand by me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I noted with pride that I grew taller. He no longer had to bend over so much to hug me, and his chin could rest on my head without strain. He set his head on mine, right between my ears, sliding cold hands underneath the shirt to stroke my tail.

“Soubi! I’m not wearing pants!” I exclaimed at the gesture, blushing furiously. He simply chuckled, still holding me close.

“I noticed,” he smiled, running his hands down the entire length of my tail as I swung it back and forth in his hands subconsciously. He chuckled as I hissed and swatted warningly at a hand trailing up my inner thigh.

To set the record straight, people don’t usually touch another’s ears and tail. It is just bad manners, like grabbing a woman’s breasts without permission. Ears and tails are intimate, a visible secret between you and yourself, but Soubi doesn’t care. An adult wouldn’t understand, especially one like him who had lost his ears so long ago. Regardless, I let his hands roam wherever they liked. Well, not wherever wherever.

“Hey,” I said quietly as he trailed hot kisses down my neck. I turned, asking what time it was, trying to get a better look at the clock and– “Soubi! YOU IDIOT!” He drew back and followed my eyes to the clock. It read 8:17. PM. “Why didn’t you wake me up, baka!”

“Oh, that. “ He leaned on the doorframe calmly and lit a cigarette. “You were just so cute and peaceful-looking. I couldn’t wake you up. Plus, the party starts at nine. You’re fine.”

“Party?”

He nodded. “Kio is throwing me a party. Where did you think we were going?”

Immediately I felt foolish. I’d thought that Soubi and I were going somewhere alone. I suppose the concept of Soubi hanging out with friends wasn’t settled in just yet. You’re all I need, he would say. Whatever.

“Ritsuka,” he said, looking at me sideways. “What are you going to wear?”

I hated unnecessary questions. “Well, not this,” I responded, sore and irritated. I rummaged through his medicine cabinet to find aspirin, then took two. “I’m going home to get something to wear,” I said, pulling on my pants. “Don’t come.”

Gackt rambling

Sun, 10 Feb 2008 15:23:43 GMT

Okay, so I'm supposed to be typing up an English paper. Instead, I'm looking up pictures of Gackt and immersing myself in j-pop culture. And cooking blueberry muffins.

So as it goes without saying, he's pretty damn cute. But... he um... looks like a 25 year old female. Now, don't get me wrong, girls can be just as hot as guys can. It's just sort of creepy since um... he's male. I personally think he's cuter when he actually dresses like a guy. When he does he still looks femme-like in the face, just not in body. Does that make sense? Regardless, he would make an excellent uke. *is uke prejudiced* Ukes are my favorite, sorry.

Oh, also. His music is orgasm to my ears. So the cuteness is a bonus^_^ I L-0-V-3 this picture! But we wont start with that. Oh... heh... finished typing up chapter one of my loveless fic that i started five years ago >.> I'll post it later *was supposed to post it in november* On the bright side, I'm all the way to chapter four. Just... needs to be typed...

Don't hold your breath.

OK... well...

Sat, 22 Dec 2007 18:18:49 GMT

Yeah, I took a look around LJ because I'm upset this morning. 1) because I'm going into yaoi fucking detox (like, no yaoi in WEEKS other than me writing my story) and 2) because I forgot Ritsuka's birthday. What can I say? I was busy yesterday, a bit distracted if you will. So, I checked the "Find Interest" search and put in the keywords "soubixritsuka" No such community exists. Bummer. Then I just put "soubi" I only found ONE community for that pairing and then another for ritsukaxsoubi. I'm sorry, guys, but I don't care what universe you are in. RITSUKA CANNOT BE SEME. I cannot stress that enough! Believe me, I tried writing him as seme. It didn't click. MasterxServant =/= SemexUke. Do the fucking math. I dare someone to try and pull it off. *DAREDARE*

Now, besides that, I missed his birthday. Damnit... damnit... gah. And it was a school day! I could've been fangirling to my heart's content, but no. I missed it. Ugh. Soooo today, I will post chapter one of my SOUBIxritsuka fic if I find a decent community. No offense, but none of the ones I looked at even knew it was his birthday. Pft, and I'm a shame to fangirls? If you make a community, keep your info tight. Birthdays are basic. Get it together.

Anyway, done ranting. I'll post chaptre un later. I have to type it up since I wrote it in a notebook. It's really hard to get the characterization for Soubi correctly, that secretive bastard, but I'll just reread my mangas and try my best. Ja.

Ok, I'm a bit late

Mon, 17 Dec 2007 21:45:56 GMT

Um... turns out Mello's birthday was on the 13th. Consequently, so was my wifey's. I got distracted. I am sorry.

So very, very sorry.

Now! I haven't found a community for my soubixristuka story yet. Pleaaase oh fangirl goddess of the yaoi, grace my eyes so I may find a community for my unborn fic! I don't want it to be birthed as an orphan with nowhere to go! *cries in humility* Yo, I'll be frank. I'll probably cheat and cut the story off where I am and make that chapter one. Because in all honesty, it's going to be a long one. Prawn with an actual plot? Didn't know I was capable either.

Well, tis all for the update. I'm working on the loveless one... gah... I'm workin I'm workin. As for chappy 3 for DN mxm fic, it's on the semi-back burner. (Priorities?)

Chapter Two FINALLY

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 20:52:22 GMT

Title: Empathy [in the art form] (Chapter 2)

Fandom: Death Note

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Sex. Man sex. The explicit kind. Also, TOTAL au. And a surprise that some may not love (no, not mpreg.)

Disclaimer: Death Note is not mine. I pwn mxm, but I do not own it.

Pairing: super MxM, totally obvious LxR (a bit of actual action for them in this one! But the kiddy-corner kind)

Spoilers: Can you have a spoiler in an AU? Yes. Are there any in this one? Nu.

Summary (more like warning part 2 masquerading as a summary, but sure.): Why bother. I don’t fully grasp what’s happening enough to summarize it. It has something to do with like, Mello being a weirdo and Matt kinda just like “Mk.” Oh, and one last warning, this is guy on guy, boy on boy, man on man, however you want to slice it. If one should dislike such a thing, one should avoid reading this. (Although if, by any chance, you were to accidentally skim over it and find that yes, this shit is banana hot, then really, more power to ya.)

It may be the hopelessness of it all overwhelming him at once, or it could be the drab walls’ depressing atmosphere. It could even be the way that, as he paces back and forth through the bathroom, every mirror reflects his image. Frail and pathetic. He doesn’t make a single sound as his red eyes give birth to streams of saline tears that seem to burn his cheeks.

He pauses. The frame of the mirror is plain enough, but clean, and the mirror itself is spotless. Either way, it doesn’t matter, because the sight of a broken Mello can bring down any shine. For a bar, everything is pretty nice. Well kept. His silence is what kills.

He doesn’t completely understand why he’s crying. It’s so out of character for him. Mello doesn’t cry. Mello doesn’t feel, or at least he didn’t before. Ever since him and Matt became an ‘item’, he’s been slowly but surely changing into mother earth knows what. Probably some femme, black leather clad brat that uses gay ass phrases like “item” instead of “convenient lay.” And it’s bizarre and sad because literally, he’s throwing a fit. He wants to kick and scream, but instead tries his hardest to punch a hole through the wall. It’s painted brick. Even as his knuckles turn raw and start to bleed, he doesn’t stop, matching each insult he has for Matt with a hit.

Selfish bastard. Child. Weakling. Whore. Idiot. And the list goes on.

Despite his best efforts, eventually his insults turn into endearing terms. Which… idiot falls under both categories. Around endearing term number forty-two he gets to masochistic son of a bitch. That one makes him chuckle.

Matt walks in to see Mello leaning against the wall looking fairly amused with a tear-stained face. Contradictory. Ignoring the odd sight, though, he pipes up a “hey” and walks over to him. Mello looks up and frowns.

“What’s up with you, man?” he asks casually, trying to strike a balance between prying and indifferent. He places his two hands flat on the wall on either side of Mello’s head as the shorter man looks down, averting his eyes. Their faces are centimeters apart.

“Nothing,” he mumbles. Matt takes a chance and grabs Mello’s chin, lifting his head up gently so he’ll look him in the eye.

“C’mon. Tell me,” he says with a grin, stepping back a little. Mello opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. His eyebrows furrow, frustrated. He looks Matt straight in the eye.

And slugs him in the jaw.

Matt reels back and lands on his ass, more shocked than injured. Mello’s on him in a second, pinning him down by his wrists. It’s kind of funny, Matt thinks, because Mello’s on top of him ranting and screaming something he’s sure is Russian gibberish, and they’re in a public restroom for fuck’s sake, and Mello is pissed for some unknown reason, and he looks like a total fucking psycho. Well, he is a total psycho, but there’s something different this time. For some reason he’s just so adorable.

“Hey Mel,” Matt says. It earns him another blow to the face.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he barks, voice dripping with disdain. Regardless, Matt gives him a kiss. It’s enough to make Mello pause if not calm down a little, and he lets go of his wrists.

“You’re a total asshole, you know that?” he says, crossing his arms and looking away. Matt can’t help but grin.

“Yes sir, I do.” He sits up, wrapping his arms around Mello and resting his head in the nape of his neck. Mello sighs.

He pushes him away and stands up. “Fairy,” he says, helping Matt stand.

“Brat,” he responds. Mello starts to walk towards the door and Matt follows, rubbing at the bruise forming on his cheek.

When they make their way back to the booth where the two other men are, the sight is a bit disconcerting. The two sit there as if everyone else in the world is not worth their attention. They hardly acknowledge their presence as they approach.

L has a chocolate cake in front of him, already half eaten, and a fork resting comfortably between his fingers. He places a small portion of the cake in his mouth and leans over to Light, giving him an open-mouthed kiss. And really, Mello could swear he sees his tongue push out slightly to share the treat.

What the hell?

Why didn’t he and Matt ever do shit like that?

Mello leans across to Matt, pressing his body flush against his, and gives him a steamy kiss. As Matt takes his waist, he half straddles him and leans against the booth. Not like he would care, but perhaps it’s a good thing no one else was sitting behind them. They’d surely get an eyeful.

Mello peaks an eye open, taking a glance at the other couple he and Matt are certainly making jealous. Light and his eyes connect for an awkward (for him, anyway) few seconds. Seizing the moment, he grinds onto Matt’s hips and licks his bottom lip, making him moan and tighten his grip on his waist. Light quickly averts his eyes. Who would’ve guessed that he is an open-eyed kisser? Wasn’t he taught it was rude to stare?

“Mel,” Matt whispers, breaking away from the kiss and silently panting. Mello ignores the nickname, and responds with a hum, clearly satisfied. “You taste like Godiva.”

Oh, that’s why we don’t foodplay, he thought, remembering the purpose of beginning the make-out session in the first place. Matt doesn’t like chocolate too much…

He pulls back and gives a little laugh, barely audible, and sits in the booth. As Matt follows, the others look up, both sporting little smears of chocolate around their mouth. Light’s eyes are a bit larger than usual, avoiding them both. L is the first, as always, to speak.

“What happened to Matt?” he says, staring at the dark purple on his cheek. Mello can’t help but grin.

Light nudges L a bit for being so frank, mumbling something indistinct.

“Lover’s quarrel,” Mello says, still smirking a bit. He scoots out the booth, seeing the L pair was satisfied by his response as they continue. Mello drags Matt along with him out the bar, letting him blurt out a last minute “catch you two later” in L and Light’s direction, but they’ve already forgotten they have visitors.

Mello walks out into the small parking lot and takes a sharp turn into an alleyway, passing up their ride without a second thought.

“Where are we going?” Matt asks, following him anyway. Mello stops just barely on the dark side of the alley, beckoning Matt over. He smooths his hands down Matt’s jacket and pants, searching for his cigarettes. When he finds them he takes one out and lights it up, taking a deep drag and holding it in for as long as he can stand it. Blowing out, he makes sure the smoke creates a long, even line in the air.

Matt just watches, oddly fascinated. The position he’s in shows only the lit cigarette and the scarred side of his face, his eyes closed. Matt can feel his breath shortening as Mello moans quietly, exhaling again. It’s enchanting in a way. Mello looks somewhat akin to a hell spawn, black leather and pale skin and dirty blond hair and scheming eyes. He can feel the restriction of his pants growing more and more painful.

“Matt?” Mello says, stomping out the cigarette and coming to examine him. He wraps his arms around his neck and stands there looking at him with his head cocked to the side. His hair falls in his face. “What’s wrong? You stopped breathing.”

And it’s kind of odd, because he’s right, Matt had been holding his breath all that time. He inhales for what seems like the first time in hours, taking in the scent of chocolate and nicotine. He takes Mello’s hands out from on his neck and kisses him forcefully, palming his erection with Mello’s hands and his own. He moans and tosses his head back as Mello unzips his pants and pulls them down along with his boxers. The relief is surreal. He wraps a hand around Matt’s cock, teasing the already moist slit with his thumb.

Mello’s warm hands playing with him and the warm, dry air's perfect temperature is almost too much in itself, but besides that he starts biting on Matt’s neck, and he almost comes right then and there because the pain of teeth sinking into his flesh has never been so pleasing. Red marks form and Mello happily laps at them. Matt can’t help but imagine how his hot mouth would feel around a much more sensitive area than his neck.

“Mello,” he says breathlessly. He’s not sure when, but somehow Mello had managed to get his pants off too, and he felt him shudder when he said his name. “Mello,” he says even lighter as he rubs their bodies against each other. The shorter man pulls back and pulls his pants back up. Matt can’t help but wear an expression of pure disappointment. Matt opens his mouth to voice his protest, put Mello’s lips capture his before the words could be made. He feels Mello break away and begin making a hot trail to his abdomen and lower with his kisses, starting at the neck and finally reaching his waist. Mello grabs Matt’s hips for balance.

Mello licks his lips. He just stands there on his knees, staring. Matt is usually the one who believes in delayed gratification, and Mello is the one always rushing things, but there’s something so exciting about anticipation. Matt’s swollen member leaks with anticipation as Mello comes closer, barely licking the tip, getting his taste for the first time. He grins and does the same a couple more times, loving how Matt whines at his teasing.

Finally he closes his mouth over the very top, sucking hard enough for Matt to shout and grab his hair, holding on tightly. This encourages Mello to take more in, him leaning over at a sharper angle to fit it all in his mouth. At the very beginning he had his doubts, thinking he was too unused to this action and his untrained gag reflex would get the best of him, but a feeling of triumph comes across him. He slides his tongue down the bottom, swirling it around and about. He brings it all the way back to the tip and pays it special attention, pushing his tongue hard inside the slit.

Matt’s noises boil down to a slight moan, Mello notices with dismay. Being the utter sadist that he is, Mello wanted to make him scream and plead until he just couldn’t stand it anymore. He works even harder to make him enjoy this as much as possible, sucking harder and moving his tongue faster around the length. Matt lifts his hips in sync with every time Mello sucks, not being able to bare such minimal contact. He feels his muscles starting to tighten and wants to come so badly it gives him a headache. He rocks harder.

Mello knows he’s close, and prepares himself by holding firmly on the base. He thumbs it absentmindedly as he gives one last suck Matt bucks his hips violently as his orgasm hits hard, throwing his head back and pulling harshly at Mello’s hair. The scream he elicits is the perfect pitch, Mello muses, happily swallowing the whole lot of his partner’s seed. Screaming and panting, he rides out the orgasm and when it’s done, tries not to collapse.

“Mello,” he says out of breath. The man stands up straight again and smiles one of those rare genuine smiles, reapplying Matt’s clothing. He looks up, eyes bright. Matt wipes off a small bit of cum accumulated at the corner of his mouth. He blushes and pushes his hand away.

“Yeah?” he responds quietly.

“What the hell?” Not that he didn’t enjoy it. That isn’t it at all. God, it couldn’t be any farther from the truth. It was just a bit sudden, he guesses.

He tilts his head to the side, his messy hair falling in his face again on one side, then cascading like a golden-brown waterfall on the other. “You didn’t like it?” he says, concerned. “I know I don’t usually do that, well, at least not to you, but a first time for everything, right?” Matt just kind of stands there, not sure how to respond. Mello waits a second, reading Matt’s face, and then gets all flustered, saying, “It wasn’t very good at all, was it! Shit, you think I’d be a bit better. Fucking—”

Matt pulls him in close, too tired to say anything meaningful, yet trying to exert as much energy of understanding as possible. He doesn’t know much about how parents are supposed to act, and he supposes it’s sort of irrelevant, but somehow this gesture reminded him of that. A loving father or some shit. Who knows.

Mello doesn’t notice, but he’s shaking like some kind of scared puppy. It’s interesting seeing him in such a way, not in an evil way as if he were a pinned down butterfly, just because it’s such a novelty. But mostly, it’s unsettling. Still, Matt has a strong feeling he finally knows what’s wrong.

“I love you,” he says, and he could feel Mello gasp when he said it. His shoulders tense as he takes a deep breath, but relax again when Matt kisses his collarbone. His mind races a mile a minute. He wants to say a million things. I love you, too! So fucking much, he screams inside his head. He can’t voice it, though.

“It’s kinda scary, right?” Matt continues, traces of lethargy decorating his voice. He yawns and takes Mello’s hand, walking back out to the parking lot and sitting behind him on the motorbike. “But it’s alright. You’ll figure it out. Soon. Maybe tonight,” he finishes, grinning, yawning and drifting off.

Mello starts up the engine, not being able to say anything, because that’s who Mello is. Guarded and untrusting. Cold and cruel. He drives away, savoring the feel of Matt’s arms around his waist. His soft breathing is music to his hears.

“I love you, too,” he says. It barely comes out as a whisper.

[A/N] Read or don’t read, but just to get this out there, yes there will be a chapter 3. Judging on how long it took me to finish chapter 2, I won’t promise how long it’ll take to be completed. After editing this, I’m more pleased on how it turned out, but still quite disappointed. There was no actual sex, just like, sexette (mini version of sex, yes I made it up). Anywho, chapter three will consist of them going home and talking about their feelings. (Underlined portion edited for content. ^_^;) One last thing, I hardly got any kinks into chapter one or two, so I will try my damnedest to shove as much kinkisms in CH3 as possible. Please, bear with. It might take a while >.>

Oh dear.

Fri, 23 Nov 2007 18:36:18 GMT

Well, that sucks. My chapter two has sex, but idk, I personally don't like the style in which i wrote. I'll post it up later after my sempai is done beta-ing it. Gah I hate it so much @_@

Also, I've begun on a SoubixRitsuka fic. Because I'm a dirty whore that can't get enough of shota-con.

I didn't really get the end of Loveless >.> It kind of disturbed me. But, that does not change the fact that Ritsu is a sexy, sadistic, overbearing bastard that would totally rape Soubi if he got the chance. totally. *pictures it* ... *dies*

In all seriousness, I will try to finish my Loveless as well as my DN fic. Please do not set me on fire.

um... about a chappy 2...

Fri, 26 Oct 2007 18:50:10 GMT

Yes! Someone actually likes it! Major excellence. I am not sure how soon i can get a chapter two (although exams are over thank goodness), but i know for certain it will be soon. I shall slave over my keyboard this weekend like a band of seven year olds in an illegal Scandinavian sweatshop. >.> yeah.

Also, I apologize for the many spelling errors that I'm sure will come in the future as well as ones in chapter one. I can't spell and neither can my lovely beta. butanywho.

If anyone would like to add suggestions for chapter two, it is welcomed more than anyone could ever imagine. Because like, literally, my brain is spazzing over what to do next. And... one more thing.

*blushes furiously* i will try to add a ~~sex~~ scene but whenever i think about it i get a nosebleed and can't turn my cheeks back to their natural color and heavens help me -_-;

I will try.

Remember: suggestions welcome ^_^

Death note crack

Wed, 24 Oct 2007 19:53:04 GMT

Title: Cig (Chapter 1)

Fandom: Death Note

Rating: T (I am so sorry. I’m a terrible excuse for a smut writer. *tear*)

Warning: Sad. There are no real warnings. Other than slight Light flaming. Oh… almost forgot… there’s um… a bit of… um… boylove? Bit of the kisu kisu grope grope beep beep cursing of stuff and things.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, or the story, or anything. Also, I have nothing against those who smoke. So don’t go there. *hugs Matt* sorry dear.

Pairing: mainly MxM, completely obvious LxR

Spoilers: Nope.

Summary: Events would lead one to infer that all geniuses have a vice. Just look at the Wammy crew. Sugar, chocolate, toys, video games… nicotine… However! Just because one can recognize another’s vice does not mean they must accept it. And boy does Mello agree.

He hates that smell. Chocolate almost completely overpowered by the tangy scent of cigarettes. On the couch. On his shirt. On his skin. And no matter how hard he scrubs, it still lingers. Such a thing was a knat in Mello's ear, buzzing and buzzing relentlessly, though not nearly as subtle. One would think he'd be used to it by now. That his senses would adapt to the perpetual unpleasantry. But that's not the case. Having a chain smoking fuck buddy isn't the most convenient of relationships.

And even now as Mello's wet fingers fumbled across Matt's soaked skin, as droplets of steaming water hot enough to boil an armadillo showered above them, he could still smell it. Nicotine. Poison. It makes him confused why someone would pump that into their body. Inhale such a thing into their lungs and let it seep into their bloodstream. It makes no sense. Then, after all that, convince themselves it tastes, smells, and feels good. It makes him confused and, like all things, so fucking angry.

In a sudden burst of energy, Mello slams Matt against the tiled back wall of the shower. He grunts, mumbling a few curses and readjusting his shoulder blades to cope with harsh porcelain. Mello's lips meet Matt's, the redhead sighing, their tongues wrestling.

Even kissing is a damn contest, Matt thinks to himself. He pushes his tongue past Mello's teeth to capture his, sucking on it, twisting his head ever so slightly for leverage. Mello doesn't resist, contentedly complying to his companion's ministrations. Matt decides that he's already won their battle for dominance, therefore there is no need in further playing. He reaches back and turns off the water, it immediately ceasing its pounding against their skin. After one final peck, he steps out the tub and wraps a towel around Mello's small waist. He's so little! And, if he wasn't familiar with how hard he hits, Matt could even say he's a bit feminine. The stylish cut, the rosary, the tanktop and leather for hell's sake. All he was missing was tits and a deep love for romantic shit. But honestly. Ew. That version of Mello was not something Matt would like to see.

As if reaching into his thoughts and yanking them out to read and act upon, Mello gently rubs on his shoulders, pressing their bodies together and inhaling Matt's smell, licking his collarbone of the water trickling from his hair. Great. Dumbass romantic bullshit. Intimacy. Love. Disgusting. But he doesn't pull away until he's done, red marks complimenting his neck for the world to see.

They walk to the living room, not surprisingly close to the bathroom in their small apartment, and Mello leans against Matt in perfect timing, causing him to drop to the couch beneath him with a thud. Not a second passes without physical contact as their lips find their ways from trailing hot kisses all over each other to back to each other's lips. He doesn't detach himself until he needs a breath. It's amazing how long one can go without breathing. If anything, it's more trouble than it's worth.

Mello sits on Matt's lap, still not wanting to feel the lack of skin against skin. Plus, his partner is always so warm. Matt lights up a cigarette and places it expertly between his teeth, inhaling deep and blowing out between his nostrils. And there's that smell. Again. Nicotine, poison, gray sickness polluting his lips, the lips that are Mello's and only his. He pulls back and sits beside him, glaring.

"Why do you do that?" he asks. Matt gives him a puzzled expression, balancing the stick between his fingers.

"Do what?" he answers, then almost tauntingly, takes another drag on his cigarette. Mello punches him in the arm, hoping it hurts more than he meant it to. He assumes so as Matt hisses, dropping his little cancer buddy on the ground and grasping onto his arm for dear life. "Damnit Mello, you tell me! Why do you always have to have chocolate?"

Mello stops a second to think. Chocolate isn't comparable. It tastes wonderful and provides the body with deliciously obscene amounts of caffeine. And, since coffee takes too much time, it’s more convenient than other sources too. With cigarettes, can the same thing be said? He doesn't think so. Unless a cigarette is more convenient than a heavy, gaudy magic dragon for smoking pot. Regardless, both taste like shit. Both are bad for you. Chocolate is good. Coffee is good. Caffeine is good. Only an idiot could miss that.

But he doesn't say any of this. Mello doesn't feel particularly like being a bastard today, so he lets it go, (although of course he plans on bringing it up later.) He reaches over and hands him his cigarette from off the ground, nodding when Matt mumbles a thanks. Instead of taking a drag, he just puts it out in the ash tray and leans back, looking perfectly contented.

Mello gets up and goes to their room, shutting the door silently behind him. Maybe to put pants on. Matt couldn't tell. He never can when he gets like this. He knows what punching means: he said something Mello didn't like. Kisses: he's happy with him. Glares: he's upset but doesn't want to say anything about it. But silence? Mello is never silent. He shouts and hits and rampages until his point is taken, until his anger is sated. A silent Mello may be more dangerous than the one with a pissy attitude and knowledge of where all the guns are. So he just sits there, waiting for something to happen, quite confused and very unnerved. He closes his eyes, wary to move. Should I go after him? Should I wait? I wonder what he's doing...

Thoughts are so troublesome.

Mello slides on his pants, the leather already beginning to stick to his body, and slings the towel around his neck. After a few seconds of rummaging through the bed sheets and pillows, he finds his cell phone, dialing in a number by memory. When it rings several times, but no one picks up, he hangs up and tries again. Ring, ring, ring.

"This is Raito and L," he hears L's voice say. "Deepest apologies, but we are currently unavailable."

"State your business after the beep," Raito says, forever with subtle undertones of rudeness. Then a "beep".

So much for patience. "Pick up the fucking phone, you idiots." And, as if insults were magical, Mello hears the line pick up.

"Why hello, Mello. To what do I owe this pleasure?" he says almost rushed, as if wanting to get this conversation over as soon as possible. He hears moaning in the background, along with an "Oh God," and decides to also speed up.

"You and the other one meet us in fifteen minutes," he says, not bothering to add details. L's a smart man. He should know who 'us' is, and where they're meeting.

"We'll be there," L says, always with the polite monotone. Mello hangs up and walks back into the living room. The bar they're going to is closer to L and Raito's house, but considerably far away from theirs.

"Get up and let's go," he tells Matt, grabbing the keys and his helmet.

Matt follows close behind, wondering what the hell is going on. As he gets on the motorcycle, wrapping his arms around Mello's waist, wind whips across his face. He hides behind Mello's back, resting his forehead lightly on him until he feels the vehicle stop. He looks up and...

"No, Mello. Come on," he says, hoping he doesn't sound whiny. It's not that he hates going places with Mello. That's not it at all. It's just, the girls at this bar are so easy. It's disgusting! Some prostitute rubbing their skin against him, whispering obscene fantasies they managed to conjure up between the time he walked through the door, until now. An amazing record of four minutes. Probably so she could work up the balls to get her drunk ass up and stumble over to where he and Mello sat at a booth.

Speaking of Mello, as the girl's bra so conveniently reveals itself from under her tight, tiny shirt, Matt can see him glaring bullets straight through her skull. He opens his mouth to say something, and Matt has to hold his breath and prepare his ears for the stream of curses he's sure Mello is about to spew.

He tells her something in Slavic. Tells her. No yelling, no gunshots. Matt never bothered to master a foreign language other than basic things in Spanish, said it was not stimulating enough, but he had a feeling that what Mello had just said, judging by his tone, was actually polite. Impossible! And even more amazing, the female of less than difficult virtue gets up off of him and walks away, not as if someone had just stabbed her in the heart with their words, but as if someone asked her to simply leave.

"What'd you say?" Matt asks after a bit of debate on whether or not he should ask "how the fuck do you know her" first.

"I just told her we're not here to pick up anyone," he says plainly.

"How do you know she spoke... that?" he asks.

He sits back and sets his hands behind his head. "Her tattoo. I'm pleased you didn't notice it on her left breast, but you probably wouldn't have known what it was anyway." He wouldn't. "Russian women get it on their 21st birthday to mark something or other. A white tiger."

Matt simply nods and dishes an "oh." Such a literary genius, he is. Mello opens one eye to look at him out the corner as he pops out a cigarette and lights up, taking a drag.

"Hey you two," he hears Light say as two men settle themselves on the opposite side of them. Mello straightens up to look at them.

"You're late. We need council."

Matt all but chokes at Mello. "What for?"

L sits, leaning on Light's shoulder, half asleep. "Indeed."

"It's not like you to involve others in your affairs, save for Matt," Raito says, much to Mello's annoyance.

He never really liked Raito. He couldn't forget that whole Kira thing. Him almost killing his mentor; he didn't think he was good enough for L. And the bastard had the nerve to walk around acting like he deserved to be his lover. Stupid fuck. Opposites attract my ass, he thinks to himself. If anything ever happened to L, though, Mello would know who's forehead to plant a bullet in.

His ferocity scared him.

Is that what they call love?

Then, unable to stop himself, Mello's thoughts drifted to Matt and his relationship. The same ferocity burned in his heart for him, as well, only somehow... different. Harm to L would be rewarded by a quick death bred by rage. But harm to Matt? The perpetrator would be rewarded with a slow, torturous, painful, excruciating death. Calculated. Thought-out.

"Mello?" he hears Matt say. "What's going on, dude?"

He turns to him, not completely sure what to say, not yet deciding he wanted to say anything at all, then turns back to look at the other couple. L rested his head on Light’s shoulder, his eyes half-lidded, looking down at his knees. His breath was steady. Content. Mello inwardly pouted, letting his face settle into an ice cold glare.

“Absolutely nothing.” He shuffles out of the booth and storms toward the restroom, shooting one last chilly glance at a very confused looking Matt. L straightens up, half wondering what’s happening, and Light just looks at L for answers. No one moves to go after him for a bit until Matt stands and all but sprints to the men’s room door.

He’s used to Mello’s moods. He almost embraces them. Yelling is fine. Punches are painful, but bearable. The cold steel of Mello’s gun against his head is in its own way unnerving, but not completely inexcusable. Most of the horrors that is Mello are outweighed by the gifts that make up their partnership. But in moments like this, he’s not sure what to do. Mello is fierce and fearless. He stays in the face of threats and confronts them with barks and bullets. Storming off with nothing to give but six syllables? Not like him. At all.

Matt’s mind clouds into a haze of what could be wrong, what did he do, why is Mello so upset. In the midst of all these questions swarming his usually careless thoughts, one rings clear.

What the fuck?