First of all my Tumblr keeps unfollowing people for no reason?? First Basia then Ani and now you ahakdhflsjf Second of all, for the writing ask, how about #22? (I’m so sorry I don’t know mdzs characters, but pick your fave pairing!) ❤️❤️
Oh, that’s so strange!! I hope mine hasn’t unfollowed anyone. :o Sorry this took a while, lovely, but here’s #22 (in a rush of adrenaline)! I took the liberty of writing MoShang from the Scum Villain series. ;)
Unedited, apologies for mistakes!
Shang Qinghua doesn’t know what came over him.
He and Mo Beijun had just won a skirmish with some silly demons who thought they could take over his Great King’s lands—well, all right, it was more Mo Beijun, but Shang Qinghua did knock a demon unconscious with a weighty tome to its head—when Shang Qinghua grabbed a fistful of Mo Beijun’s collar and yanked him down—far, far down—for a kiss.
It must have been the adrenaline. It was pumping and pounding through his veins, and from Shang Qinghua’s angle, Mo Beijun was just too damn handsome, looking down at him with a gaze so soft and pleased that it stirred something deep inside him. Something primal, like an animal released from its cage.
The kiss doesn’t go too deep at first; Shang Qinghua doesn’t know how. They’ve kissed many times, he and Mo Beijun, but it’s always Mo Beijun who initiates. Who slips his tongue across Shang Qinghua’s lower lip, curling in when Shang Qinghua’s lips open for him, breath catching against his. Everything else about Mo Beijun is cold and hard as ice, but his mouth, oh his mouth—warm and sweet and soft, better than anything Shang Qinghua has ever envisioned for his writings.
So Shang Qinghua’s kiss starts off as a press of his mouth to Mo Beijun’s, nothing more, until Mo Beijun lets out a growl that rumbles through his chest. Pulls away to sink his teeth into the curve of Shang Qinghua’s neck and along his jaw, soothing each bite with his tongue. Shang Qinghua whimpers then, hands clutching at Mo Beijun’s shoulders, and Mo Beijun rises back up to seal his mouth, swallowing the soft keening noises.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Shang Qingqiu congratulates himself for penning in sexual prowess as a demonic trait.
The kiss lasts forever. At some point, Shang Qinghua feels his knees give out, but Mo Beijun’s hands on his waist are firm, holding him steady and pressed against Mo Beijun, chest to chest and hip to hip.
“My King.” Mo Beijun’s mouth is hot and unyielding, and Shang Qinghua’s vision is starting to swim. “My King, please, I- I can’t breathe…”
“So die,” Mo Beijun says, his voice gone deep and dark, smooth as silk.
Shang Qinghua shivers, fingers curling into Mo Beijun’s hair.
As deaths go, this one isn’t so bad at all.