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... )
One day, quite a few years into their happily ever after, Denzel came home with streaked hair, three piercings, and an attitude.
"I'm joining a rock band," he announced to the kitchen at large. "This is my new Look."
"What, 'retard', you mean?" asked Marlene innocently. She raised a cool eyebrow at Cloud: her daddy wouldn't have stood for this kind of thing.
"What sort of rock band?" Tifa looked up from her paperwork with equanimity. She hadn't raised a family, saved the world, and forced Cloud into doing housework by being excitable. It showed, especially in odd moments such as these, when Cloud was doing the dishes.
"We're called the Nobodies," said Denzel, and narrowed his eyes dramatically. "It's a statement"But you're not a nobody," Cloud pointed out, being rather an expert on matters of confused identity. "You're Denzel. You're still Denzel around us, yeah ( ... )
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"Sure," Denzel replied, perched across him on the piano stool and watching the shadows flicker across Demyx's jaw; dance in the hollow of his throat. "Of course."
That evening, after dinner (We're not buying a piano, said Tifa firmly, and Marlene tsk'd; Your outfit looks like a train wreck- referring to the long and swooping black coats Denzel had taken up wearing) he sat down in his room and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, he scrounged up a blank piece of paper and a pen; licked the nib, started writing. He wrote about life and confusion and dusty old attics, never stopping once, except to flip the paper over and write on the other side. Words had always come easily to Denzel; it's just that most of the time, they never made it outside his mouth ( ... )
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The first time Denzel got a blowjob was after they finished recording the fourth song, the last notes trailing off and his voice hanging in the air like a crystal fracturing light, clear and wavering only slightly and-and he was on his back, pressed into the couch with Demyx single-handedly undoing his pants.
"Demyx," he wanted to say, "What are you doing? Also, careful with the zipper," but there was a mouth on his cock and all that came out was "Nnnngh."
"Mm-hmm," Demyx agreed, cheeks hollowing expertly, and Denzel tried not to claw at the couch too desperately while he stained the coat something awful.
"What was that for?" he asked when he could speak again, but Demyx just smirked and kissed him, tongue curling and sticky with spunk-his spunk-his spunk-there really were no words for how distracting that was, and he shut up fairly quick.
The first time Denzel gave a blowjob was after Demyx bagged them a brand-new portable keyboard complete with customized ( ... )
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Denzel had been walking down the street, schoolbag in hand and innocent as anything, when suddenly something tall and quick and black had very nearly bowled him into the gutter. He looked up, and there was a guy: panting and slightly red in the face, wearing a mysterious coat, stuffing something heavy and metallic into Denzel's hands and saying "No questions, mate-follow and runWell, Denzel, he'd always been good at following orders. They ran ( ... )
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Demyx rolled away, making a show of licking his lips, and Denzel let his body unwind and melt into the couch. His skin felt like it was infested with fire ants-supremely dangerous, terribly painful, but just now dormant, so that all he felt was a pleasantly tingly burnt-umber glow seeping outwards. He sighed and pressed his cheek to the armrest.
"What was that for?" Not that Demyx ever answered. They've been doing this for a while now-daily practice sessions, a hobby to which Denzel had subscribed with enthusiasm, marked with a bit of rough-and-tumble whenever Demyx initiated anything. He came home smelling like a locker room and his family never said a word. Denzel couldn't have explained if he'd wanted to; Demyx never gave him reasons, for this or anything else.
Except now he looked up straight in Denzel's eye and smiled a little wicked one, like a secret between them. "That was for you," he said, "a dose of incentive. Since next week we're playing our first gig."
"We-what?" Denzel gaped ( ... )
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"Er, pants," Denzel said, but Demyx shook his head.
"Take them off. Trust me; you'll want as few layers as possible on stage, it's like a furnace out there."
"But it's leather, it chafes-" No use; Demyx had already gone off, to harass the stagehands or tinker with his ear mike or sweet-talk his precious amp. Denzel felt no resentment: that was just how Demyx was, and besides, it wasn't as if he was could do these things on his own.
He undressed. When Demyx returned, he nodded approval and gave Denzel's ass a friendly slap. "Much better."
The stagehands looked at him weirdly, but Denzel blushed anyway, and tried not to feel too pleased.
Just before they stepped up, Demyx grabbed Denzel and gave him a soft, careful kiss on the forehead. "You're amazing," he murmured, and Denzel felt his nervous energy dissipate, like early morning fog on the first day of spring. Demyx looked at him, silhouetted by the stage-lights with too-bright ( ... )
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"This was written by my pianist and better half, Denzel," Demyx informed the crowd and slung a leather-clad arm around his shoulder; Denzel grinned down at the keyboard modestly. He thought he was acting pretty suave about the whole thing, until Demyx's teeth nipped at his ear and he yelped out loud, startling like a fawn.
"Bit skittish, he is," Demyx confided, and their audience roared approval. Denzel felt his face burning-this was not in the plan, not in the plan-but Demyx tapped his ass and moved back to front-centre with nary another ( ... )
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"What do you think you're doing?" It came out a hiss; he was red as Reno's hair, flushed with arousal, shaking with it. "This wasn't in the script, you had no right, shit, I was so embarrassed-"
"Relax, Zel," Demyx purred, laughing; he twisted his wrists and there went Denzel's hold plus any momentum he'd accidentally managed to carry this far. Another move, and Denzel was the one being pinned, Demyx lithe and insistent, breathing hot into his ear with one hand tugging down the zipper like a ribbon unwinding. This must be what birthday presents feel like, he thought, and shortly afterwards, Holy fuck"Demyx, I, I don't-" he cut ( ... )
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