Kingdom Hearts Kink Meme
KINGDOM HEARTS KINK MEME
Indexed at kh-kinkmeme
and on delicious here
Rules:
1. Post a pairing plus a kink.
1a. One request per comment.
1b. The only kink not allowed on this meme is anything involving underage sex. What I mean by this is if, either in the request or fic, it is made clear (either by stating a number or giving a physical description) that ( Read more... )
Indexed at kh-kinkmeme
and on delicious here
Rules:
1. Post a pairing plus a kink.
1a. One request per comment.
1b. The only kink not allowed on this meme is anything involving underage sex. What I mean by this is if, either in the request or fic, it is made clear (either by stating a number or giving a physical description) that ( Read more... )
“Isn’t this what you wanted?”
No. No, it’s not - but he can’t seem to keep hold of the fact. It keeps slipping away from him, slick and wet with his own blood, as hard to keep in his grasp as the breathless whimpers black-velvet fingers rip from him. He can’t seem to look past the face, the dagger-sharp spikes of hair, to the ragged-edge emptiness in the silent chest -
His body’s convinced its Sora. Even if the eyes are candle-light amber instead of lazuli-star blue.
Abruptly, hidden claws slide from dark fingertips to slice through his shirt, the folds of cloth parting like water before the onslaught, and he bites his lip against the sudden coldness, the line of red on his skin snaking down to his waist as the shadow tears effortlessly at his trousers, leaving the jeans in tattered shreds on the rumpled sheets.
Cold, freezing, dead hands grasp at him, fingers spread to take in all of him at once, greedy and hungry. Fingers curl at his chest, scrabbling for the drum-beat music hidden just beneath his skin, and when they can’t reach it an ice-lipped mouth licks at Riku’s hot skin.
It’s not Sora. It’s not Sora. It’s not - ah!
Riku arches up as a shift of hips grind down, his wrists rubbed raw with rope-burns as they strain to free themselves, grasping for something to hold, some purchase; but he doesn’t have a chance.
A clawed hand darts for his hair, fingers winding in silk tresses almost tenderly before jerking, hard; and his cry of shocked pain in silenced with a wet, cold mouth, sharp little teeth tearing savagely at his lips, purring with dark lust as blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, bruised and bloodied skin parting without a fight and only a slash of pain. Shadow smirks at him, at how Riku can’t quite seem to close his eyes, half-lidded and glazed even as they are - and Riku isn’t sure whether or not it’s shame or want that’s coiling hot and heavy in his stomach.
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Shadow laughs as a hand stars to tug the remains of the jeans from Riku’s lithe frame, the illusion of clothes falling from the copy of his friend as if they’d never existed, and the sound is false and harsh and fake, the ringing of a blade against ice. He feels the sharp bite of claws at the hollow of his throat; and he freezes.
“Let’s spice things up a bit, hmm, Riku?” Shadow asks mockingly, and with a small puff of darkness he feels something constrict around his throat, something leather and tight and clinking metal.
He bucks, shocked, wide-eyed and panicking, tossing his head from side to side - and Shadow laughs, Shadow grabs his hips to pin him down and thrusts; Shadow groans as Riku yells, burying it’s cold face into Riku’s sweat-clad shoulder as it’s hips buck, ignoring the living boy’s pained cries as it mocks Riku with the pretend-emotion, the pretend-weakness, the pretend-neediness.
“Not quite what you wanted, hmm?” It hisses against his skin, star-splinter teeth dragging over dew-beads of sweat, ebony-snake tongue lapping at the salt, thrusting harder, and Riku almost screams at the burning fire tearing through him, writhing, panting, hating this, hating Shadow and the ropes and the part of his heart that’s craving for this.
“Sora wasn’t meant to top you, was he, Riku?” The collar tightens without a hand, darkness answering Shadow’s silent call, drawing tighter, tighter around his throat as he’s impaled again, blood leaking from the torn skin; and he tries, tries so hard, to stay quiet, but he just can’t - he hates it but he loves it, and the snarl turns into a whimper instead, a begging, needy sound that he can’t take back.
“Pure, innocent little Sora…” Tighter, tighter. Cold inside, ice and frost and harsh, northern nights, mingling with heated blood to make him writhe, the contrast too much, too much. It’s getting hard to breathe. “It was meant to be so gentle, so tender…” Sneering, a torn cry at the harsh swipe of claws across his chest, soothed with a wet tongue to lick up the blood: Riku shivers, eyes rolling, hands above his head fisting and unclenching.
“Not quite what you expected, huh?” A harder thrust, breaking the rhythm, and his scream is silenced abruptly as the collar jerks far tighter, cut off mid-cry, the barely-swallowed breath scraping his throat, harsh and scared. “No? Or is this exactly what you wanted, Riku?”
Impaled. Stabbed. Torn. Hating it.
Loving it.
“I can’t hear you, Riku.” Harder; and he’d moan if he could, his lungs burning, his lips parted, trying to pant, trying to breathe -
“Is this what your twisted little heart longed for, Riku? Spent too much time in the darkness, huh?” Sharp-toothed smirk, bruising biting claws, gripping his hips - blood threads down his pale skin, stark brightness.
“I think it is,” Shadow murmurs, and the collar slowly, oh-so-slowly, is completely cutting him off. “I think this is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”
Loud, mint-scented breath. “You don’t want light and sweetness, Riku. You want dark, poisoned honey, spicy and burning.”
He’d moan if he could. If he could the air past his choking throat.
Harder, hard, harder, and oh-gods-he-can’t - he can’t -
Can’t breathe -
Something inside him breaks, breaks with a loud, final snap; and Shadow’s burning smirk is the last thing he sees as he falls, screaming without air as the darkness closes over him, as the burning in his chest is replaced with cold, cold, cold.
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