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battymommastuff · 2 months

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The One I was Meant to Find

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

You can swallow fire, you've practically flown through the hair....You've performed in front of millions from age eighteen. You felt like you could handle anything the world threw at you....

Until you entered the Upper district of Gotham City a week after being taken in by Bruce Wayne. The part of the city full of the most lavish, and expensive stores. So many name brands that you only ever dreamed of wearing. Not even Haly himself could afford such luxuries, and he owned the circus. Bruce insisted that he bring you to this part of the city to shop for your new wardrobe. He planned on buying outfits, dresses, shoes, jewelry, perfumes, and anything else you could never need. You tried to convince him to just take you to a thrift shop or some random outlet, but he only looked at you as if you spat on his shoes.

So here you were, standing in front of a store that you had no business being in. Little did you know, you would be walking into these stores as if you were walking through your home in the future. All in due time...

Bruce enjoyed a cheap glass of champagne while you were given dress after dress to wear. Since your method of employment was no longer safe, he planned on hiring you as his assistant until you were safe to find your own career path. You stepped out in a dark blue dress that fit a little big on you, "Bruce, you really don't have to do this...I mean a thousand dollars for a dress? I'm sure we can find something similar for a cheaper price." You said while holding the price tag. He frowned, standing up from his seat. He walked over to you and inspected the price tag for himself.

He turned you around so you were facing the mirror, "I think it looks wonderful on you." Bruce said with a smile. He moved your hair to the side so he could zip up the rest of the dress and rested his hand on your hip. You both decided to put off the facade of being a couple while in public. Subtle touches like this were going to happen, but he didn't go too far with it, "I could buy this entire store if I wanted to." He whispered into your ear. A shiver went down your spine, and you bit your lip softly. You knew Bruce Wayne was rich, but just how rich was he? Obviously he was rich enough to keep up his lifestyle as Batman. You turned around, not realizing just how close the two of you were.

Have you ever had that feeling? That feeling that you were looking at someone you knew? As if you'd been with them a thousand life times. That's what you felt when you looked into his eyes. It was as if your souls found each other once again. You knew the theory of the multiverse from one of the clowns in the circus, he loved conspiracy. The thought of you and Bruce being together in different universes made you giggle a bit, "What's so funny?" He asked, his hand still resting on your waist.

"Nothing at all, Mr. Wayne." Bruce rolled his eyes then back away from you. You only called him that to be a tease. You two often found yourselves teasing one another. Which is why Alfred was very happy to have the both of you out of the house...so he can be free of the thick tension for a few hours. Now you were walking downstairs to the batcave, dressed in one of your new nightgowns. Tonight was one of those nights where you felt unsafe. Truly, you never felt safe. You knew there were eyes on you outside of Wayne Manor. The only place you felt safe was right by Bruce's side...or Batman's at this time of night.

"You should be asleep." Batman said as he typed away on the batcomputer. It made you think of the night he rescued you, "You have a busy day tomorrow, and I'm sure your boss wouldn't be happy with you being tardy." He joked then turned to look at you. He could tell instantly that you were scared. He understood the fear. After his parents were murdered, he would be up all night in fear of their murderer coming back to finish him off. Living life having to constantly look over your shoulder was no life to live. Without a word, he stood up while removing his cape. The surprisingly light material was draped over your shoulders to keep you warm. He wasn't going to make you leave. If you felt safe around him, then you could stay. Still in silence, you sat down on a stool next to a table lined with gadgets. You hadn't the faintest clue of what any of them were, but they looked very dangerous.

Was it strange? That you could picture your life like this? By his side, helping him on his quest for Justice. The Manor already felt like home. More so than the circus ever did. That feeling came back again. The one where you felt as if you've been through this before. As if every choice you've ever made led to this very moment. Led you to Bruce.

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

"No."

Your mouth formed an O shape and you awkwardly nodded. That might have been a question for Bruce Wayne not Batman. You learned quickly that the two were vastly different people. Bruce almost felt like the mask while Batman was truly who he was. Sometimes you saw a mix of the two...which you favored.

"Y/N. I'm not someone you can love. My life and what I do will only bring you more danger, you will never live the happy life you deserve to live. I can never make you happy, and can never give myself to you fully. I'm sorry."

Being rejected before the first move was ever made never felt good. You felt your heart shatter at the same time that your eyes began to water, "R-Right...I was dumb to ever think otherwise." You said while sliding down from the stool, "Goodnight...Batman." You whispered and swiftly left the batcave, passing Alfred who instantly noticed the tears falling from your eyes. He could only shake his head as he made his way down the stone steps.

"Lying to yourself and to her will only make it worse, Master Wayne." Alfred said as he set down a fresh cup of tea next to Batman. Nothing was ever openly spoken, but it was obvious that Bruce and Batman both had feelings for you. Everything about you just drove him insane. He never believed in soulmates until he met you. He never thought that there could be anyone in this world made for him. Yet there you were, and it terrified him. How could he ever keep you safe? Once his enemies knew of you, you were going to be the target. The Court was already going after you, but he had so many more that would love to watch him hurt. He knew if he let himself care for you, it would only end with him losing you.

And he couldn't lose you....

TAGLIST

@maxinehufflepuffprincess @tayswhp @rainycloud858 @luna-zendra-star @starlets-things @simpfourmarvel @kawaistrawberry21 @js-favnanadoongi @kodzukenmaaa @xxrougefangxx @pixviee @discocactus-world @b4tm4nn @minimoxha @crutoyu @nightw-izhu @legendarylearner18 @mangegeek17 @pixiedust0604 @that-one-fangirl69 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @irelanrose @asterelz @angelxx7 @millies0bsimp @marie0v @starmansirius @amberpanda99 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @inutheangel @chaoticevilbakugo @mellowdiy @luvly-writer @enretrogue @zanzie @backyardfolklore

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jaethecreator · 1 month

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Aahh I was wondering if you could maybe write binnies reaction to Jisung buying him the skirts he had been eyeing for awhile, playfully ushering binnie off to try them on. ! <3

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay first request here we go, be prepared !! i hope you like it <3

Stray Skirts by @jaethecreator wc: 3.1k

Tags: BinSung, Cross-dressing, Skirts, Thigh Highs, Top Han Jisung, Bottom Seo Changbin, Fluff, Smut, College Student Han Jisung, Producer Seo Changbin, Slight Confidence Issues, Praise, Body Worship, BJ, Jisung is horny and Changbin suffers (in a good way).

If you looked at Seo Changbin from the outside, you’d have multiple thoughts. One: he can look quite intimidating. Many colleagues found the producer quite hard to approach. However, those close to him knew him as a mood-maker and the victim of many giggle-fits. Two: he was big. Large arms hugged by the cuffs of his shirt sleeves, and an even larger chest actively trying to escape said shirt. Three: his wardrobe was darker than most. The clothes Changbin tended to wear ranged from mostly ebony to cool black. No one but his boyfriend knew the plethora of colors hidden in his closet...

If you looked at Han Jisung from the outside, your thoughts would vary. One: he looked like a bit of a nerd. Large glasses with a sheepish smile were his go-to. Two: he’s quiet. The only time he wasn’t quiet was with close friends or his boyfriend. When he was comfortable, however, Jisung could be just as loud as any extrovert. Three: people assume he can’t be the top when standing beside his boyfriend. Behind closed doors though, the number of times he’d left Changbin pleased as punch with cum leaking from his hole was countless.

Initial thoughts aside, no one could guess from looking at the two in public that Changbin liked to cross-dress. Specifically, he loved to wear skirts. Feeling so free and pretty appealed to him more than he’d like to admit. When he’d first confessed it to Jisung, he was shy. The apples of his cheeks and the shells of his ears were pink, even as Jisung carded his fingers through Changbin’s curly hair and assured him nothing was wrong with what he loved. After learning the fact, he enthusiastically bought his boyfriend a skirt with hearts in his eyes the next day. Changbin found it hard to truly ask for things, always eager to please and satisfy—but there was nothing more that Jisung wanted to do than treat his boyfriend with whatever he wanted.

But Jisung didn’t just stop at one skirt.

Much to his wallet’s display (queue crickets chirping and cobwebs inside), Changbin was gifted skirts every two weeks. He still hadn’t built up the confidence to go shopping for them in person yet, so Jisung took to learning his sizing himself and surprising him every few weeks. Thankfully, an "accidental" discovery made his purchasing easier this week.

Changbin had left after having dinner with Jisung in their apartment to make his way to the studio he worked at, where he'd presumably be working on music till late at night. Unfortunately for Changbin, he had left behind his work laptop. Feeling stressed (even though it wasn’t him who left the computer), Jisung noticed and immediately grabbed the charging cord to unplug it. However, the unplugging of the laptop had woken the screen, and Jisung’s curiosity got the best of him.

The tab that had caught his interest was a site called Stray Skirts.

Jisung glanced side to side as if somehow Changbin was watching him (he wasn’t, obviously). He tilted his head as his eyes scanned the clothing website's page. After they settled on the wish-list icon at the top right, Jisung licked his lips determinedly and clicked once more. A screen filled with beautiful skirts opened, each selectively hearted by his adoring boyfriend. A soft coo left his lips, knowing Changbin would have looked drop-dead gorgeous in every single one. Truly, Jisung had never seen something not look perfect on Changbin—like it wasn’t made for him to wear.

Quickly choosing, Jisung added the top 3 skirts from Changbin’s wish list to the shopping cart. The first was a black faux leather miniskirt. The second skirt was a gorgeous mesh black floral print, much longer than the first one he’d seen. Lastly, the third and final skirt was Jisung’s favorite— a cream lace miniskirt that would pair beautifully with any piece in his boyfriend’s closet. He could already feel his heart fluttering just imagining Changbin opening his gifts and looking so pretty in his skirts, soft thighs spreading underneath them as he sat down. The way the leather of the first skirt would hug the front of his tummy and the curves of his ass, highlighting two of Jisung’s favorite parts of Changbin’s body. Warmth rose to his cheeks, while also sinking elsewhere.

"Get it together, Jisung..." He mumbled to himself.

Trying to calm his excitement, Jisung shook his head like a snow globe and began to put in his card information to make the purchase. He knew using the same account already logged in could risk Changbin finding out about the surprise, but Jisung couldn’t ignore that his boyfriend had reward points available to be used at checkout. Being a college student was tough, so if he could save money while pampering his boyfriend—Jisung was all up for it. After purchasing, he set up the tracking to be sent to his phone and email instead of Changbin’s.

Once he finished paying and knew he’d left no way for his boyfriend to discover the surprise, Jisung triumphantly puffed his chest and placed his hands on his hips—feeling proud of himself. However, this didn’t last long. The second he’d exhaled he felt his posture deflating, as he realized now he’d need to see his boyfriend in person and would have to keep the surprise a secret. Part of him started to feel a little guilty for taking so long to bring his boyfriend’s laptop, but surely he could forgive him in the name of love and romance.

Speaking of his boyfriend, it seemed he’d realized he’d left his work laptop at home by the vibration in his pocket. Changbin was calling Jisung’s phone asking him to bring it probably, so he put the computer away in its bag. Once he answered the phone, Jisung was greeted by Changbin’s sweet voice.

“Yeobo… I think I left my laptop on the coffee table. Can you bring it, please?”

“Jagi, please. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

“Not mine! My boyfriend would run 100 miles if I asked!”

“I would! You’d have to carry me back though, I don’t think my legs could take all that cardio..”

“Mine neither, but that’s beside the point! Be careful on your way, Jisungie—I love you!”

“Love you too hyung!”

If you saw Jisung’s face, you could tell his smile was warm and genuine. His eyes and lips shared the same expression, swelling with happiness and love after talking with Changbin on the phone. He couldn’t wait to see his boyfriend, even if he’d only been gone for an extremely short time. Was it possible to be just as excited about the gift as Changbin would be once he received it?

————————3 days later————————

The day the skirts arrived was perfect. Jisung’s classes were canceled because of an incident on campus, and Changbin had decided to work on some song lyrics at home. This meant the couple could be lazy together, basking in each other’s warmth and presence. There was nothing more that Changbin wanted to do than spend the day snuggled against his boyfriend.

Changbin had left Jisung’s koala grab to shower, returning from their bathroom with only a towel wrapped low around his waist. Wet messy curls rested perfectly on his head, looking more delicious than he did going in. Jisung couldn’t help but ogle at his boyfriend’s body, causing the other to smirk and flex his arms. However, Changbin's arms weren’t the first parts Jisung's eyes had landed on.

The swell of his chest came first. Jisung's eyes darted from the top of Changbin's hair to the pair of tits that stared straight at him. He knew the socially acceptable term for them was pecs, but the way the soft flesh often filled the cups of Jisung's hands said otherwise. As he watched Changbin, he couldn’t help but wet his lips. It was easy for Jisung to imagine his teeth taking each nipple into his mouth, giving both buds equal pleasure as he elicited the prettiest of whimpers from his beautiful boyfriend.

God, Jisung was puddy..

After his eyes had their way with Changbin’s plush chest, Jisung's eyes trailed down to the pudge at his waist. Jisung had lovingly marked the skin there plenty of times before and Changbin never tired from the attention. He found the softness of the other’s torso delectable, always trailing his lips and fingers over what he could. Jisung would take the flesh of Changbin’s tummy between his teeth, nipping with his nose pressed into his skin, hands resting on both sides of his waist. He'd hold his beautiful Binnie there, indulging in the little belly that had formed from never saying no to what indulged him.

He’d have continued surveying the sight before him, but at some point, he'd realized Changbin was trying to get his attention by calling his name.

“Baby?”

“Baby..?”

“Sungie...?”

“Sung-ah!”

“Jisung-ah!”

“Han Jisung!”

“Yah, are you even listening to me?! Hello?!”

Jisung was startled as he blinked, realizing he’d zoned out into his own Changbin fantasies when said fantasy was standing there. His eyes immediately looked up, watching as the other stepped closer towards him. Jisung’s hands moved to rest on Changbin’s hips. He held him there, giving him all his attention—his breath waiting on whatever word Changbin would say next.

The older had wanted Jisung to pay attention, but his eyes looked up at him like he was the stars in the sky. He couldn’t help but blush, feeling shyer by the minute.

“Wah.. what’s this atmosphere now? Do you feel bad for not answering?”

Changbin teased him with his words, then used one of his stubbier hands to push a curl behind the shell of Jisung’s ear. Afterward, he used the same hand to begin petting the back of Jisung’s head—an amused smile on his face.

“I was just thinking, Binnie. What’s up?”

“Did you not hear our Alexa? She said a package arrived. I was asking you if you ordered anything?”

“Ahhhh, did Alexa say that? She must be running low on battery.”

“Jisungie. She plugs into the wall.”

“..Right. Well, you should know by now what it is hyung! Did you think I’d forget your skirts?”

Feeling more bashful than before, Changbin looked down while smiling like a fool. Even though he loved the spoiling and pampering from his boyfriend, he’d never say it out loud—but Jisung could read him like a book.

“Yeobo.. you know you don’t have to buy me new ones every few weeks. I never wear them out in public anyways.”

Changbin spoke with a pout on his face. He felt guilty getting so many pretty skirts and never having the confidence to wear them out of the house. He wanted people to see them—he wanted people to see how much Jisung loved him.

A gentle hand meeting his cheek brought the older out of his thoughts. Jisung’s thumb rubbed the soft skin as he felt heat rising under it. When Changbin was blushing prettily like this for him, he couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that’d spread across his face.

“Doesn’t matter. I think you look perfect in every single one. And you feel happy in your skirts, right Binnie?”

Softly sighing, Changbin pressed his cheek further into Jisung’s hand, causing the apple of his cheek to squish against his palm. Jisung giggled at this, which in turn caused Changbin to as well. The sound alone reminded Jisung of wedding bells, but that was a thought for later.

“I’ll take that as a yes. While you finish drying, I’ll go and get the skirts! When I get back, you should give me a little fashion show~”

——————A few minutes later——————

Jisung returned to the bedroom holding the box of skirts as Changbin turned his attention to it. The other had simply changed into his briefs, prepared to get himself in a skirt soon. With a pleased smile, he broke the distance between them and began undoing the ribbon that tied the package together.

A soft gasp left Jisung’s boyfriend, which surprised him. Normally he was much louder than—

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! YOU DIDN’T!!!!! YAAAAAAAH!!!!”

Jisung’s hands had clamped over his ears, eyes screwed shut as he laughed. While Changbin let out happy noises and giggles, the younger was internally gushing at how overjoyed his boyfriend was. Jisung was sure they’d receive a noise complaint, but it was the furthest thing from his mind. When he saw Changbin excitingly putting on the mesh skirt, it felt like an invisible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Nothing felt better than making the other so happy.

Anything and everything he’d been stressing out over the past two weeks disappeared from his mind simply because of how happy his boyfriend looked. He’d remember them all tomorrow, but now—he felt free. Free to indulge in his lover’s happiness.

“Do you like them, jagi? I’ve been keeping it a secret!”

“Aish, how could you keep this from me?! They’re beautiful, just like the day I saw them online!”

“You know, I couldn’t have done it without you. We make a good team!”

“..What do you mean, Sung-ah?”

“Remember when you forgot your laptop hyung? I saw the site from there!”

“..Yah. So you spied on my laptop?”

“In the name of love! And romance! Romance isn’t dead! I kept it alive all by myself for the past 3 days, I swear!”

“You’re too funny sometimes... I’m just kidding, yeobo—that doesn’t bother me!”

“Oh thank god.. I thought I was in trouble.”

“Even if you were, how could I be mad when I look this good in the skirt you bought me?”

Jisung’s gaze lowered from Changbin’s face to the skirt he’d put on first, watching his boyfriend playfully wiggling his hips. Was it normal to find someone so cute and sexy all at once? The younger felt his lips parting to speak, but nothing came out as Changbin quickly motioned for Jisung to leave the room, claiming he had to grab something as a surprise for him.

“A surprise for me? Hyung, are you trying to one-up me?!”

“Don’t say something like that! I’m just returning the favor, that’s all. I’ve had them for a while anyways...”

Jisung tilted his head, curious about what his boyfriend could be referring to. However, Changbin gave him a look that meant “If you don’t leave now, I’ll make you leave” which was hot in theory, but he also didn’t feel like getting pushed out of their shared bedroom—so he exited on his own accord. When he returned, Jisung felt his jaw go slack.

Changbin was sitting on the bed wearing the cream skirt Jisung had bought him over his black briefs and a pair of white thigh-highs. Jisung’s mouth went dry as he took the view in, still not used to how cute his boyfriend looked wearing the clothing. Changbin’s legs were already gorgeous and thick, but the soft material of the thigh-highs stretching over his tanned skin and hugging his plush thighs was enough to send Jisung into cardiac arrest.

“You look like a dream.”

“Wanted to put the skirt on for you, Sungie. Wanted to look pretty when you came back.”

Changbin all but batted his eyelashes, even as Jisung walked closer to the bed. Using both hands, Jisung gently separated his boyfriend’s legs to give himself more access. One by one he placed kiss after kiss along the flesh of Changbin’s inner thighs, his hands smoothing up and down the outer sides. He could feel a subtle squirm here and there, which only filled Jisung with the confidence he needed.

Jisung carefully filled the space between them, one of his hands holding the back of Changbin’s head as he pressed their lips together, hovering over him. Once the older’s hands met his waist, Jisung deepened the kiss, free hand splayed against Changbin’s back. The hand that took solace in his curls began to tug, causing his boyfriend to whine softly as their lips parted. He knew it was time for him to make his baby feel good.

“So fucking gorgeous...”

He mumbled against Changbin’s plump lips, taking the bottom one between his teeth. Jisung gently laid the other against the bed, his hands moving to squeeze at his chest. Mewling and whining underneath him, Binnie was looking gorgeous—large muscles all for show. It was so sexy knowing that Changbin could overpower him at any second, but that he chose to submit so beautifully underneath Jisung every time.

Jisung gently licked a stripe between Changbin’s pecs, hands continuing their ministrations until he took a nipple into his mouth. A soft gasp left his boyfriend, Changbin’s lips performing a perfect “o” shape as his eyelashes fluttered. The younger couldn’t help the wetness of his lips as he pulled away, looking like a man possessed.

“Fuck.. feels like these tits were made for my mouth, hyung. Are they mine..? They’re mine, yeah?”

He pressed a kiss to the nipple he’d finished sucking on, then moved to Changbin’s other pec. Underneath him, his boyfriend could barely answer the question asked to him with a strained “Mhm..” The pleased noises escaping Changbin were a sign that it was time for Jisung to go further.

If Changbin hadn’t been able to answer fully before, Jisung pulling off his skirt and briefs and then taking him into his mouth had left him speechless. The lips around his cock sent a shiver down his spine, his toes curling in response as well. Jisung had Changbin throbbing between his legs, his strong hands gripping the bed sheets beside him. Moans escaped the older left and right, feeling debauched and at Jisung’s disposal.

“M’gonna cum, Sung-ah... Binnie’s gonna cum.”

Jisung hummed around his shaft as Changbin whined, feeling like he’d see stars soon because of how good the other made him feel. The fact that Jisung was still fully clothed in front of him somehow made it even sexier in the older’s eyes. He screwed them shut after the realization, doll lips so pretty and pink as they formed moan after moan. Jisung continued to swirl his tongue, sucking Changbin through until his orgasm.

With a huff, Changbin’s hips jolted several times before cumming into Jisung’s mouth. The younger was plenty prepared to take every drop while his boyfriend writhed on the bed sheets. While swallowing, Jisung gulped down Changbin’s load and pulled back, a groan leaving his lips.

“Hyung.. you look fucking delicious. Need to be in you... need my jagi filled with my cock.”

His voice was croaky, making Jisung sound so desperate for him that it took Changbin’s breath away. Quickly, the younger began pulling his clothes off and wriggling out of his underwear, revealing how hard and dripping with precum he was. Changbin gasps at the sight, eyes trained on his boyfriend as Jisung reaches into the nightstand for lube and begins coating his fingers. When his attention turned back to Changbin, a smirk was plastered across his face.

“You like being filled up.. right Binnie?”

#jae asks 💫#jae changbin writes 🐇🐷#jae jisung writes 🐿️#skz #stray kids #seo changbin #changbin #han jisung #binsung #skz changbin #skz jisung #skz han #skz writing #skz imagines

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jesperfaheys-defenseattorney · 2 days

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100 Followers Celebration! 🩷

Thank you so much! I'm very honored you all find me interesting enough to follow. And those of you I have interacted with have been nothing but lovely. So here, a celebration post! I'm going to pin this. If you want to see or access my master post where I keep my prompts and tags and fics and info, here it is!

Send me any of the following emojis (can do more than one. If you do a fic request I ask that you send that ask separately, thank you <3) and I'll answer with whatever the emoji corresponded too! Feel free to send more than one. I feel like Tumblr interaction has died down and I intend to give it heart palpitations until it comes back. Here we go:

😎 - Tell me about your day, or a fun fact about you! I am very enthusiastic about fun facts. 😌

✨ - Cannot be sent from Anon. I'll go through your blog for a bit and then make an aesthetic for you. Feel free to give me details or give me specifics like a header or just a little something you can judge wholeheartedly.

🖋️ - Send me a prompt from one of my prompt lists or one you found elsewhere. If you use another one and don't mind linking it I would really appreciate it <3

💋 - Send me a prompt from this "102 Types of Kisses Prompt List"

🎶 - Mutuals only! I will give you three songs I think describe you or how I feel about you.

🤯 - Two truths and a lie! I have to guess hehe. Please please tell me if I was right the anticipation will kill me.

🧠 - A long ass headcanon about whatever you want!

📚 - Ask me for book recs! Give me some specifics so I can try and gear towards something I think would fit your interests you've provided me with.

📒 - Fanfic recs! Be warned I will absolutely dig until I find the exact one I read roma ago that I think you'll love cause it's probably not in my recs even though it should be. Again, give me some hints as to what you're looking for I've read a LOT of stuff.

🥁 - Fun fact #2: I play the drums! Send me a polyrhythm or a song. If it's a polyrhythm I'll post a recording of me playing it and if it's a song I'll post a (faceless) vid of me doing it on kit.

🖊️ - *holds up fics* Would you like a lil. A lil smth? A lil snippet maybe? Lil sneak peak at a wip? Perhaps something ongoing?

Thank you, again, to everyone who liked my blog and liked it enough to actually follow me as a way of showing it, I really appreciate it 🩷 Please send me some stuff! I want to make stuff for you guys or provide you with some kind of content as a way of saying thank you, yk? See you <33

And to my beloved mutuals:...

...an extra special thank you for being so lovely and kind and making Tumblr a place of fun and safety and joy. Love you guys <3

@violets-and-books @iammadeofmemoriesforlife @wesperbrekkered @rinadragomir @tomscompassrose @purplebass @anarmorofwords @sprnklersplashes @detectivebambam @grace-lightwoodd @justanormaldemon @laylax13s @myangelbach

I know I don't talk to all of you as much as I should please give me an excuse to you're all so great 🩷🩷🩷

#new lore #100 follower celebration #followers celebration #follower celebration #100 followers #mutuals my beloved #followers milestone #followers my beloved #shit post #headcanons #fandom #fic recs #fic prompts #fic requests #ask games #book recs #drumming #lore drums

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kisha-myers · 1 year

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Author's Note: Ive decided to title this - My Anxious Mouse - I think it fits decently 😅 Also, I will TRY to update 1 chapter a day IF I can help it. I've got 2 kiddos under 6 🥴 they keep me on my toes and need my help often. If you have any questions, whether that be about this fanfiction or me, feel free to comment them below! I'm gonna try my hand at a tag list as well (if you want to be added to that PLEASE let me know). Without further ado, let's get on to the good stuff!

Chapter Three: Broken Memories

You had been placed in the back seat of the humvee, your seat belt secured for you as your brain still tried to catch up to what all was happening. You registered the vibration associated to the ignition being turned over, felt the jerk of it all in motion, but as you looked up towards Ghost and König you weren't fully certain what their intentions were. Your dad had always told you to be mindful of those around you, having been a retired navy seal, he knew people were capable of many horrible things.

"They will use your timidity against you - always be vigilant. Men especially, they'll see you and instinctively see prey." His words echoed repeatedly through your rapidly clearing mind, the events of yesterday and today finally catching up to you. You equated it as your body's own version or shock - you just hadn't fully come out of it yet to register much of anything aside from now being in the back of a vehicle with two complete strangers heading to God knows where.

Fear was the first emotion to crash into you in a rolling tidal wave, it crushed the air from you lungs and had your muscles tensing painfully. You curled in on yourself, drawing your legs up slowly, your arms wrapping around them as you buried your face into your knees. Panic was the next emotion to force its way into your consciousness, burning through your veins like a raging inferno that threatened to burn you alive. It caused your stomach to churn mercilessly and spit to pool in your mouth, threatening catastrophe should the contents of your tummy be spewed all over the sanded beige interiror. You forced yourself to calm down as much as you could, opting to breathe in deeply and focus on your senses.

Grounding techniques hadn't always worked for you in the beginning, there were many times you just had to let the panic attack push you to pass out. Through countless years of therapy and many many many sleepless nights, you had learned how to use the technique to soothe you. You started with the sensation of touch, letting the pads of your fingertips brush along the seam of the fabric seat you currently resided on. It wasn't exactly soft, but it wasn't rough either - it was somewhere in between, designed for functionality over comfort you'd guess. You continued to move your fingertips across the seat slowly, letting yourself become familiar with the texture before moving onto your next sense; hearing.

You tilted your buried face slightly, opting to keep your eyes closed to not dull the other sense. The engine, you noted, purred almost in an animalistic way. You knew little to nothing about cars but you were sure the upkeep on this vehicle was immaculate. You turned your head completely, letting your right ear rest against your knees, you face now facing your door as you eyes remained closed. Rain crashed against the windshield leisurely, the rhythmic pounding a comforting sound. The sound of passing cars made you smile, reminding you that although you were here, you still remained in a public place.

Feeling slightly more relaxed than when you started, you decided to continue on, opting to have the next sense be smell. It was strange, you thought, that the interior of a military vehicle could smell like fresh pine and sandalwood. Perhaps it was due to the week old carfreshener that hung from the review mirror, or maybe it was due to their cologne - you weren't entire sure, but you enjoyed the scent nevertheless. There was a sense of familiarity there, notes you could quite place but knew you had smelt it before. It was slightly sweet but nutty, almost like a pistachio cream filling or vanilla almond milk. It wasn't you, your body wash consisted of fruity scents like orange bliss and tropical punch. Your shampoo wasn't any better as it was watermelon and berry scented. You inhaled deeply, letting the fragrance that left you perplexed relax your tensed muscles. You decided you liked that smell, the notion causing a tender smile to burst forth across your lips.

Your heart had calmed enough that you felt it was safe to open your eyes, effectively moving onto the next stage of the technique. Slowly you lifted your lids, blinking a few times to clear the blurriness from your eyes. The first thing you saw was the window, buildings and cars passing you by as the rain glided down the glass. The yellow hued glow bathing the world around you in a somber essence. Stop lights changed from green to red, reminding you subtly of Christmas for the briefest of moments. You watched the world around you silently, eyes watching the raindrops leave little trails as they slid from their position.

The somber silence was broken by the faint buzzing of a cellular device, effectively bursting your bubble of raindrop appreciation. You lifted your head, turning it just in time to see Ghost pull free his phone and tossing it to König.

"You talk to him, my patience is already thin." He growled, making you nearly jump out of your skin. König shot him an incredulous look, heaving out a sigh and sliding the green phone icon over before placing the phone against his ear.

"Guten Morgen Sergeant." He forced between clenched teeth, shooting another annoyed look at Ghost when he saw the man's eyes crinkle in smugness. Johnny's bark of a laugh filter through the receiver loud enough to be heard by you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth slightly agape - you knew that laugh, had heard it most of your life. Questions started rapidfiring through your cranium as you tried to remember everything Johnny had ever told you about his military career.

You knew he had been assigned to a military task force, Task force 141 his paperwork had said, and that he was under the supervision of a woman named Laswell. You knew his Captain, had even had a few opportunities to talk to him over a cup if tea he had so graciously offered to make you. You recalled he was nice enough, a little blunter than you'd expected, but he cracked a joke or two and helped settle your nerves.

You vaguely remembered meeting a rather rambunctious Gaz, but he had ways been busy running errands for their Captain he had been unable to sit and chat with you. The rest of his team had not been present on base at the time but you remember Johnny talking your ear off about his Lieutenant. He was fond of the man, always speaking highly of him - you'd begun to think he was bi with the way his eyes glazed over and his lips would turn up slightly at the corners in mirth.

"Sergeant, while your banter is usually entertaining, now is not the time. It's been a long night, we'll brief you when we get there oh!" Königs blundering of surprise made you jump again, effectively pulling you from your thoughts once more as you snapped your eyes over to him. He was already looking at you, eyes crinkling in the corners the only thing you had to go on to aid in your assumption he was smiling at you, "We have a civilian with us. She was displaced when our apartment caught fire, she will be staying in my room - would you meet us when we get there to show her where it is?" You looked away from him, eyes going back to your window to watch the scenery change.

Houses got less and less before barb wire fences and pop up buildings painted the signature hunter green took over. You were no military brat by any means, your dad had long since retired from being a seal just a year after you were born. You shake out of your stupor long enough to witness the phone being placed into the await skeletal gloved hand of Ghost, his grumbling of impeccable insults under his breath almost enough to make a giggle slip past your lips. A few you'd put away for a later date, having been too perfect to let them be forgotten.

"So..." You say softly, the way you nibbled on your bottom lip muffled your voice slightly, "You two know Johnny MacTavish I take it?" You tried to sound nonchalant, unbothered, but the vexation from yesterday was still a present smoldering rubble within your chest. You visibly saw Ghost stiffen by your tone, his hands clenching the steering wheel so hard you wondered how it didn't just simply break. König looked back at you, his head tilting just enough to convey his curiosity, making the giant of a man who had to hunch slightly to even fit in the car look like a little puppy.

"Ja, we are all stationed here together." He simply replied although you read the question that lingered on the tip of your tongue. You offered up a bitter smile, your right hand coming up to rub your forehead as you sighed softly.

"Johnny was the guy who stood me up. I've know since I was in diapers - he was friends with my older brother before he died while deployed in Iraq. Waited a whole two fucking hours before he called just to check in. I'm upset by it." You muttered under your breath, tilting your chin down and resting it on your knees. You failed to notice both of them exchanging an ire filed stare, silently communicating with one another to teach the Scotsman on how to properly treat a lady.

"So you two dating or what?" Ghosts blunt question fills the silence, hanging over your head and dousing you like a bucket filled with ice water. You grimaced - you loved Johnny, but he wasn't your type. He was handsome yes, you'd never deny that - you couldn't - but he was far too outgoing for your own personal tastes. He loved to go out and explore things, mingle with anyone and everyone - your anxiety was far too out of control for any of that.

"No. He's like family, and it wasn't a date. He called me two nights ago to let me know he was on a temporary leave and wanted to hang out together and catch up. It's been almost a year since I got to see him and I was really looking forward to it and I wanted-" You stopped yourself from finishing that sentence. You wanted many things, but the number one thing was you wanted you brothers dog tags back. Johnny had offered to take them, keep them safe on him as a way to help you heal. At the time of his death you were just barely eighteen - you had just graduated when you saw them. They wore the standard military issued uniform, faces perfect masks of stern indifference. One made the mistake of meeting your eyes - their eyes, you noted, were filled with unshed tears and that is what broke you. Seeing the devastation in their gaze made you knees give out, you remembered the pain that resonated there, the way the concrete bit harshly into your flesh and the warm viscous liquid that made your dress sticky.

That pain was nothing in comparison to the pain that lacerated through your chest. It was as if a boa constrictor had wrapped itself around you you squeezed with everything it had, your lungs releasing all its contents in a 'whoosh', mouth going dry, all the moisture poured from your eyes like a flooded river down stream. He died a hero they had said, one kneeling in front of you - yoy had recognized him from one of the pictures your brother had sent to you while he was deployed, Declan he'd introduce himself as. His hand had found your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before crushing you to his chest in a hug. His companion - Nathan he said - was busy speaking in a hushed conversation with your dad.

'He died a hero, y/n.' You vaguely remember them saying, telling you that he'd even earned the purple heart of bravery. It was meant to comfort you, knowing be died doing what he was passionate about - but it didn't. It left you feeling hollow, empty, like a piece of your very soul had been ripped from your very being and now the seams of yourself unraveled. It was around that time when your anxiety had begun to rear its ugly head, a wolf in sheep's clothing leading you to the slaughter.

A wayward tear slid past your water line and down your cheek, your jaw clenching tightly as you swiped it away with a sniffle, "I uhm." You cleared your throat loudly, refusing to look at either of them, "Johnny took his dog tags for me. My mom didn't want them, my dad said he didn't deserve them and our little sisters didn't understand their significance so they were supposed to go to me along with his flag. I was drowning in my grief that Johnny offered to hold onto them for me until I was ready to fully process it - said that all I had to do was ask him for them and they'd be mine. I wanted to ask him yesterday but... but he stood me up." Your voice faltered at the end, your lips pressed firmly together in a pensive line to keep your bottom lip from trembling.

The silence that filled the humvee was deafening, Ghost and König were at a loss for how to comfort you. They all knew the risks of war - of the loss it brought. They'd seen countless soldiers be killed in action, each of them having retrieved a few hundred dog tags to be returned to families as a way to offer some semblance of closure. They shared another look, one that declared they were both going to beat the snot out of Johnny when they had the opportunity to.

The rest of the ride remained that way, you lost in your broken memories of your older brother and his endless teasing, and them sharing silent conversations through gestures and looks. You didn't know it right then, but the two peeved males nestled in their seats had come to an agreement. Not only would the kick Johnny's ass, but they'd make sure he'd fix this - that he'd make this right. After all, they couldn't let their little mouse loose herself - not when she had fallen so willingly into their hands.

Your life was going to change drastically... you just were unaware of how much that'd be.

Tag List

@lianyanhongcheng

@kdkj122920

@grizzersmamma

#john soap mactavish #könig x reader #könig x you #könig cod #könig call of duty #ghost x könig x reader #vampire #vampiric #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x konig #male x male #polyamory #captain price

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84reedsy · 16 days

Text

The Mentorship, Part 15

The Mentorship

Characters: Curt Hennig/FemOC , Scott Hall/FemOC

Part 15 of ? (Parts not chapters, parts length varies)

Word Count: 3396

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Warnings/Considerations: Smut, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Dirty Talk, swearing Tag List: @writeandsurvive @theweaselandthekilt (feel free to ask to be added)

“I figured she’d be here by now,” Scott checked his watch again, but no sign of Brinkley. He’d thought she’d be fine on her own. She’d smarted off that she didn’t need a baby sitter, but even the guys didn’t travel alone much. It was better to have someone to at least watch your back.

“Probably lost track of time,” Kevin could tell Scott was worried or at the very least anxious, “She’s a tough girl,”

Scott wasn’t sure if he was more worried about her safety or if who his imagination suggested she might be with.

------------------------------------

“GOD, I haven’t had red meat in so long,” Brinkley nearly passed out as she chowed down probably the best burger she’d ever had in her life. She hadn’t had a cheat day in months - she could splurge a little.

Curt chuckled a little as he took a bite of his own. He knew some would be upset if they knew she was here with just him. But, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was here by choice. He laughed to himself again as she took another bite and let out a satisfied groan.

“Not sure I’ve ever heard you make those noises before,” He joked, but his smile fell a little as he thought better of the comment in retrospect.

“Sure you have,” She nudged him under the table with her foot, “You’ve heard worse,”

He was relieved that she felt comfortable enough to joke about such things.

“Well…I guess,” He couldn’t stop his instinctive wink.

Brinkley smirked back at him, but did not like the uneasy feeling in her gut that was telling her she was doing something wrong. Curt noticed a change in her face.

“You alright?” He asked, wiping his hands on a napkin, looking mildly concerned.

“Yeah…just probably my stomach not liking all this fat and grease,” She joked, willing it to pass.

“Told you it’d do that…” Curt was smug, recalling his warning long ago when he was staging her diet. He checked his watch, noticing they still had a couple of hours before they had to be at the arena, “Do you wanna kill some time before the show?”

Brinkley’s stomach tingled again, but she ignored it as she considered his offer. Perhaps it was foolish, but she found herself willing to trust him again. Afterall he wasn’t the first person to be an asshole when drunk. She placed the boundary there - she could trust him sober.

“Sure, what’d you have in mind?”

-----------------------------------------------

Country music played over the radio, nothing new when it came to riding with Curt. He had a different rental car now - no long front bench seat. The console between them was a welcome barrier for Brinkley who knew in all logical scenarios that nothing would happen. But she knew, even now, that there was a weakness in her specifically for Curt. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but it was definitely there.

He drove through a natural everglades area where all that existed were only power poles, a few clusters of palm trees, and sawgrass broken up by wetlands. The narrow highway had few other cars. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was better than any concrete jungle.

“Makes me want to go fishing,” She lamented, passing yet another boggy lake that was probably teeming with wildlife.

“I love fishing down here, especially on the ocean - not far from here is where I got that shark on my wall at home,” He tried to watch the scenery too, but kept turning back to her.

“You’ve mentioned that a time or two,” She teased, having sat through the bullshark story multiple times, “What?” She asked, catching him looking yet again. She was dressed down in leggings, a sports bra and a loose-fitting tank top, she was no stunner right now.

“Nothing…” He blushed a little being caught, “Just realized the last week or so has been weird because I missed this. You know, riding together, bullshitting. Guess I didn’t realize how used to you I got,”

“Yeah, I don’t think either of us realized that. It's been weird for me, too, ya know,” She wanted to put her hand on top of his that rested on the gear shift.

“I bet. Having to share a room with those two constantly would be a big change by itself,” He had been wondering how that arrangement was going. It had shot a few eyebrows up, but Scott didn’t seem to be hiding anything anymore.

“Well…I kinda don’t anymore,” Brinkley admitted, chewing her bottom lip a little as Curt looked over curiously, “It felt too much like…living together? And way too soon to even think about that. Staying a couple days at his house was one thing…but together every night day in and day out. I’d get on his nerves. I don’t think it’d last very long,”

“Tell me about it,” Curt teased, taking a firm nudge from her.

“Hey! I’m not THAT bad,” She pushed his arm, “...was I?” She followed after a thought of uncertainty.

“Nah, I’ve had way worse travel buddies,” He shrugged his shoulders, “Way worse,”

“Yeah, but did you ever rib any of them into a surprise threesome,” She said, trying to get shocked reaction.

Curt feigned thought and she slapped his shoulder as he laughed.

“But I got you good, didn’t I?” He cocked one eyebrow at her. She tried to pout but couldn’t resist smirking. Curt felt the weight that had been weighing on him the last several days lift away.

“So paying for your own room gets pricey after a while,” He cleared his throat, knowing he wasn’t being subtle.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Curt,” She said, though she sounded somewhat forlorn about it, “For a few reasons. But yeah, it would add up if Scott wasn’t paying half. I told him he didn’t have to, he’s basically paying for a whole room.”

“Yeah, but how many times might he be in yours…it probably comes out even,” Curt reasoned. He noticed she blushed, “You don’t have to act like I don’t know what goes on between you two,”

“I know…it’s just -” She thought for a moment on how to put this, “It’s still weird for me, navigating everything. And now I’m doing it without you,” She sighed, “Just a lot of adjustments. It's kinda scary being alone sometimes.” She looked around curiously when Curt pulled the car over onto a gravel shoulder and parked.

“I know I didn’t make things any easier on you,” He said turning to face her, “I am truly sorry for anything I did ever that hurt you,”

Brinkley could see the sincerity in his eyes and couldn’t stop looking at them. She felt desire and guilt collide in her gut and found herself very confused at the mixture of feelings.

“I know you are, Curt.” Her hand itched to reach up and touch his face. But her stomach twisted at the thought of betraying Scott, “I think I can trust you from now on…as long as you aren't drinking,”

“Well that made my day…” he flashed a smile, “You know…if you're ever too scared or anything. You can always call me…” he offered, “I'll have a roommate, probably Ray, but you know everyone likes you. You're always welcome.”

“Thanks…I appreciate the offer, but at some point I gotta grow up a little,” she shrugged, biting her tongue to keep from asking if he'd just come to her room instead. She knew what those kinds of invitations could imply and clearly she wasn't disciplined enough quite yet with the thoughts flittering through her mind.

“We should get back,” Curt clenched his jaw as he noticed the digital clock in the car, “Don't want anyone worrying about you,”

Brinkley knew that was barely code for Scott. She nodded, finding herself slightly disappointed.

------------------------------

“Where the hell have you been?” Scott asked as he saw her enter the back door of the arena. His eyes went to Curt as he walked in directly behind her, “What's this?” He asked, barely concealing his accusation.

“He was the only one at the gym. He just gave me a ride,” she said in an even tone, hoping to not rile him up further. He reached out for her, pulling her to his side. He kept a warning glare on Curt as he encouraged her to walk down the hall.

“I'm fine, Scott. You don't have to worry about me…” she set her things down in the locker room.

“Its not so much you I'm worried about, it's him and whether he's learned to keep his damn hands to himself,”

Brinkley couldn't help but enjoy the way Scott desired to protect her, even if it was a little patriarchal. She went over to him, slipping her arms around his torso and laid her head against his chest.

“I didn't mean to make you worry, I'm sorry,” she was relieved when he returned her embrace.

“I'm gonna be honest, I don't like caring about other people this much. It's not easy to trust people. Especially around here. I don't want to be made into a fool,” he stroked her hair, but his words felt like a warning, even a veiled insult.

She swallowed any offense she felt. She could butter him up later and hopefully make up completely. She definitely did not like being on his bad side.

“Did Scott say much?” Curt asked as they were alone in the gorilla once again.

“A little…but nothing really much,” Brinkley adjusted the sports bra top paired with the black shorts, “Do you like it?”

“It looks incredible on you. Hell, what wouldn't?” He looked her over. He bought the damn clothes. He should be able to look.

“The other shorts my ass half hangs out of them…. Saving those for the pay per view. People will be paying 29.99 for each cheek,” she joked.

“And lucky me, I get the view for free,” Curt teased.

“Nothing you haven't seen before,” she teased back, getting ready to open the curtain. Just as she stepped out, he leaned in to her ear.

“Nothing I haven't fucked before either,” he murmured, smug that she'd have to spend the next fifteen minutes in front of the crowd without responding.

---------------------------------------

Brinkley was glad the next show was in Miami, they didn't have to change hotels, staying near Hollywood, Florida. She was tired and was happy to decline the invitation to go to a nearby club. Even Kevin tried to convince her to go, again raising her suspicion that he and Scott were in on this together.

She was comfy in a tank top and panties, not having to care about appearances in her own room. That alone was freeing. She cranked up the air to combat the humidity and collapsed on the bed to mindlessly watch tv just as there was a knock at her door. She groaned and drug herself off the bed. Looking through the peephole, she instantly recognized that stubbled chin. She opened the door with her hand on her hip.

“Can I help you?” She said playfully, but her face fell when she saw Kevin standing right next to Scott. His eyebrows went up as he reactively looked her over before she darted herself behind the door.

“Well…I was making sure you didn’t wanna come with us to the club,” Scott stepped a foot in the door, “But now I’m kinda thinking I’ve got other plans,”

“No, I told you I’m getting some rest in while I have the chance,” She saw Kevin step in after him, “Hey, I didn’t say you guys could come in!”

Scott shut the door, letting her hide behind his body.

“He’s seen me fuck you before, doll,” Scott laughed as she pushed Scott towards her bag so she could at least grab one of the oversized t-shirts she’d stolen from Scott. At least it would be long enough to cover her.

“But it was dark, you guys were drunk and we were mostly under the sheets,” She reasoned, still standing mostly behind Scott.

“True, she wasn’t as much of an exhibitionist as that Toronto chick,” Kevin recalled, laughing at the warning face Scott shot him. He knew from the intensely curious look on Brinkley’s face, that he might have started something.

Scott might have hinted that Brinkley may be down for some fun with all of them, but at the moment, it didn’t seem like she was. Maybe he hadn’t asked her yet. Sharing a room with her occasionally would be a lot better if he was also getting something out of the deal. Satisfied at the moment by stirring the pot with Scott’s road history, Kevin decided to leave for the club.

“Toronto chick?” Brinkley asked after the door closed.

“Some of us guys have regular girls in certain cities. Not every one…but some.” He admitted, suddenly thinking about Pittsburgh, “Not gonna get mad that I got my dick wet before I met you, are you?” He asked, almost condescendingly.

She frowned and walked back to the bed, flopping down on it again. “NO. I was just asking…” She couldn’t help but be a little jealous of them and wondered if he’d turn them down if they showed up. She had a comeback on the tip of her tongue, but guessed better of mentioning anything with Curt for the moment, “Sorry, just in a bad mood,”

“Well that’s why I’m here,” He walked to the bed, crawling across it to slide up behind her, “I know I was an ass earlier,I wanna make up for it,” He pulled her hair away from her neck, kissing the tender spot behind her ear down to her neck.

“Scott…” She meant to say it in protest, but her tone softened itself. She lost more of her will to resist as his hand slid over the curve of her hip and down over her ass, “You know…I know you jacked off that first night we ever stayed in the same room…” She remembered how he’d grabbed her ass that night in a similar way.

“You did?” He asked with a hint of surprise in his husky voice, “Were you awake the whole time?” He squeezed a cheek, remembering how he’d fondled her that night, “And you weren’t mad?”

“I mean… a little,” She gasped as he manhandled her backside, “But…I was turned on, too…when you touched me, it felt different than when anyone else ever had,”

“Did you want to touch me?” He pulled her back against him, slowly gyrating against her as he worked himself up, “Were you dying to turn over and see my dick?”

She nodded, her breath quickening, “I was close to turning over…but I didn’t want to freak you out or make you stop. I almost touched myself right as I felt you cum on me,” She flexed her hips, pushing more firmly into him.

“God damn, you’re such a dirty girl,” He bit the back of her neck lightly as his hand snuck around and down the front of her panties, pleased to sink his fingers in the evidence of her arousal, “I didn’t mean to…but damn just touching you turned me on so fucking much,” He nipped and pulled at her earlobe with his teeth, “Cum for me, baby girl,” He softly commanded as his fingers toyed rhythmically with her clit. He knew from the tremors of her body that she was close.

His words were all that she needed as she bit her pillow to muffle some of the strained whimpers. Even if she was ticked off at him, Scott had a way of making her respond so easily that it made her forget why she was even upset.

As the aftershocks tingled across her body, she couldn’t take his teasing anymore.

“Scott, I need you…” she said, the words barely leaving her mouth before he was stripping her of her clothes. He wasn’t sure why he was so aroused, but he knew the moment he slipped inside of her that he was not going to last long. He started with quick, firm strokes, laying between her legs as they wrapped around his waist.

The way she dug her nails into his back didn’t help stall his stimulation. He felt those impulsive words battling their way out of his mouth, but he held them back, not believing they could be true. They were just words brought on by a passionate affair. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t say when he was buried to the hilt inside of her.

“Don’t stop…please…harder,” She begged, trying to stall her orgasm as long as possible to match his. She struggled to withstand the pleasure she felt, heightened by the heat and weight of his body laying firmly against her. She could tell he was losing control, his restraint was dwindling as he shortened his strokes, penetrating deep into her sex.

She cried out into his shoulder, the frantic pleasure coursing through her as she felt him pulsate inside of her. She loved the feeling. Damn Curt for not pulling out or using a condom…she preferred the feeling of a full cunt, damn the consequences. Thinking his name so soon after climaxing flooded her with an awkward sensation, but she shrugged it off as she relished Scott’s full weight over her. She loved the feeling of him over her. He barely supported himself on his forearms as he collected himself.

“Sorry baby, you got me pretty worked up…” He apologized for his short tenure, “Give me a little bit…I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” he felt guilty now, not saying the words. Sure they were in the heat of passion, but he would have meant them. He could just as easily say them now in the afterglow. The way she was looking up adoringly at him, like he was the only man on earth should be good enough for her. But he didn’t want to say them only to have to take them back later when, as everything else had, it inevitably failed.

“Scott…it was amazing…and as long as I’m with you, I’m happy,” she ran her fingers tips along his cheek.

“I don’t deserve you,” He kissed the tip of her nose and then her lips lightly, “I’m just some dirty old man who can’t keep his hands off your beautiful, hot body,” He teased her a little. Brinkley laughed, pushing him off of her and to his back. She swung her leg over his hips, straddling him.

“You might be a dirty old man…but I have the same problem of keeping my hands off of you,” She ran her hands down from his shoulders over his broad chest and torso, “I can’t get enough of your body.”

Her praise went straight to his groin, surprising him that his spent cock ever so slightly twitched.

-----------------------------------

It was late as Curt walked back to his room. He had limited himself to two drinks and that had been hours ago. He knew he was walking to the wrong door, but he couldn't seem to will himself elsewhere.

He stood outside her door, staring at the room number. He had no excuse to tell her why he was there. She would assume it was because he was horny and she wouldn't be wrong, but it wasn't the only reason. It was nearly 2am - she was probably sleeping. If he just knocked softly he wouldn't disturb her if she was asleep.

Just as he lifted his hand, the door cracked open slightly. He jumped and moved quickly around the hallway corner.

“No, Scott…don't leave. Just stay….pleeeeeease,” Brinkley begged in a sleepy, pleading voice.

“Are you sure baby?” Scott paused at the door, “I don't want to impose,” he joked, not quite as tired.

“Shut up and come keep me warm,” she demanded, causing him to close the door.

Curt felt his heart racing. How could he not have considered Scott might be there. She did say they didn't always sleep together all night. But he was guessing they did so more often than not and didn't realize how often it truly was.

It was a close call, he should take that as a hint to stay away. But he only seemed to think of how to be more careful next time.

#wrestling fan fic #wrestling fic #wrestling fanfiction #curt hennig #wcw #wwe #wrestling #fanfiction #pro wrestling #1999 #Scott hall #kevin nash #The Mentorship #wrestling smut #cameos by a lot of wrestlers

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ally-writes-many-things · 2 years

Text

I’m right here (Steve Harrington) Part 3

Summary: After being away from Hawkins for a little over seven years, you return to spend time with your brother Dustin but things happen that may change how you feel about Hawkins.

Words: 2.6K

Prompts:

Requested:

Warnings or A/N:

Tags: @sundarksposts @manuosorioh

You glanced over at the entrance to the shop and saw Robin standing there. “Nothing,”

“Yeah, he was just showing me how to fill the tubs up,”

“And that’s why half of the ice cream is on you and not in the tubs?”

“Slight malfunction?”

“Yeahhh,” Robin trailed off for a second before speaking again. “It is fascinating what 20 bucks will get you at the County Recorder’s Office,” She said walking into the back room while you and Steve followed her.

“Starcourt Mall,” She said, placing down blueprints as Dustin walked into the backroom. “The complete blueprints. So, this is us, Scoops, and this is where we want to get,”

“I mean, I don't really see a way in,”

“There's not, if you're talking exclusively about doors,” She said, flipping to the next page.

You realized what she was going for. “Air ducts,”

“Exactly. Turns out, this secret room needs air just like any old room and these air ducts lead all the way here,”

Steve placed the ladder right below the air duct, climbed up it and took the vent off.

“Flashlight,”

Dustin handed him one. “Thank you,”

After a few minutes of looking he came to a conclusion. “Yeah, I don't know, man. I don't know if any of us can fit in here. It's, like super tight,”

“I'll fit. Trust me. No collar bones, remember?”

Steve climbs down the ladder and Dustin climb up the stairs

“Uh, excuse me?”

“Oh, he's, uh Yeah, he's got some disease. Chry, uh It's chrydo, um Something. Yeah, I dunno. He's missing bones and stuff. He can bend like Gumbo,”

“You mean Gumby,”

“I'm pretty sure it's Gumbo,”

Robin looked at me. “I have no idea how to pronounce it,”

“Steve, just shut up and push me!”

Steve walked over to where your brother was in the duct and tried pushing him. “Okay. I'll push ya,”

“Not my feet, dumbass. Push my ass,

“What? Touch my butt! I don't care!,”

“Come on! Harder! Push harder!”

“I'm pushing!”

“You're playing with my legs,”

“I'm not playing, I have terrible footing,”

“Come on!”

“I'm gonna just shove you, ready?”

“Just shove me?” -

“One, two,”

“Shit,”

“That work?”

“One more time,”

That entire ordeal just made you bust out laughing at the sheer stupidity that is your brother and Steve.

“Ahoy, sailors! All hands on deck! Ahoy!” A voice came out of nowhere. You turned around and looked. “Come on. Get over here and serve me some samples,”

You and Robin both looked at each other as if you had the same idea.

After explaining the plan to Erica and Steve pulling Dustin out of the duct, Erica was sure she’d fit but now she’s trying to negotiate a deal. Steve was over at the counter fixing her whatever ice cream she wanted. “Know what I love most about this country? Capitalism. Do you know what capitalism is?”

“Yeah,”

“Of course,”

“It means this is a free market system. Which means people get paid for their services, depending on how valuable their contributions are. And it seems to me, my ability to fit into that little vent is very, very valuable to you all. So, you want my help? This USS Butterscotch better be the first of many and I'm talking free ice cream for life,”

You and Dustin both looked at Robin and after a few minutes of making her the banana split, Steve came back over. They both agreed to her demands. These two are gonna end up being fired because of this. After she got done eating her ice cream, you four ran up to the roof of the building from last night as she was climbing through the ducts. “All right, nerds. I’m there,”

“Do you-Do you see anything?”

“Yeah, I see those boring boxes you’re so excited about,”

“Any guards?”

“Negative,”

“Booby traps?”

“If I could see them, they’d be pretty shit traps, wouldn’t they?”

“Thank you for that,”

“I’m in,” She said and a few seconds later the doors opened up.

You guys walked cautiously into the room and Steve cut one of the boxes open and it revealed some sort of metal box with a weird lock on it. Steve twisted the lock and it had some sort of vials in it. “That’s definitely not Chinese food,”

“Maybe, uh, maybe you guys should, you know, stand back,”

You, Robin, and Erica all without hesitation took a few steps back. Dustin, however, didn’t. “No,”

“Just-Just step back, okay?”

“No!”

“Dustin, just step back,”

“No! If he dies, I die,”

“Okay,” Steve said, pulling up the vial. “What the hell?”

“What is that?”

You were looking at the vial which had some sort of green goo in it when you felt the room shake. "Was that just me, or did the room move?"

"Booby traps,"

Robin grabbed the vial from Steve's hand. "You know what? Let's just grab that and go,"

Dustin who already was at the box looked at Erica. "Which one do I press, Erica?"

"Just press the damn button, nerd,"

"Which one? I'm pressing the button, okay?"

"Press "open door"

"I'm pressing "open door".

Steve walked over to where Dustin was standing "Just open the Press the other button,"

"Out of the way so she can push the button?"

"Would you stop?"

"I'm trying. Would you let me just do it? Would you stop?"

"Just open the door!"

At that point, the room started dropping which sent all over you screaming at the top of your lungs. “Shit! Shit! We're going down! We're going down!”

“Yeah, no shit, Harrington!” You yelled out.

“Why don't these buttons work?!” P

“Press the button!”

“What do you think I'm doing?!”

“Come on, press something! Just press the button!”

“Push it!”

All of a sudden the room abruptly stopped and you heard Steve groan. “My groin. It fell on my groin. Dustin!”

Dustin strained himself as he picked up the box from Steve’s lap. Steve slowly stood up but looked at every single one of you.

You did the same thing. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, I'm great, now that I know that Russians can't design elevators! I think we've clearly established that those buttons don't work,” Steve complained.

“They're buttons. They have to do something,”

“Yeah, if we had a keycard,”

“A what?”

“It's an electronic lock. Same as the loading dock door. If we don't have a keycard, it won't operate meaning-”

“We're stuck in here,”

“Yeah. Just so you nerds are aware, I'm supposed to be spending the night at Tina's, and Tina always covers for me. But if I'm not home for Uncle Jack's party tomorrow and my mom finds out you three are responsible, she's gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throat,”

“I don't care about Tina! Or Uncle Jack's party! Your mom's not gonna be able to find us if we're dead in a Russian elevator!” Steve snapped on Erica.

“Hey,” Dustin said as you all turned and looked at him and saw that he was looking on top of the elevator. “What if we climbed out?”

It took them a few minutes to climb out of the elevator and a couple of seconds to look around above us and then they came back down. “That’s not gonna work because there is nothing for us to climb besides the cable and we are very far down into the Earth,”

By what the time on your watch said it had been about eight hours since you were trapped in this elevator and everyone was starting to get annoyed with each other. You were sitting down while Robin and Erica were arguing over something when you heard something hitting the wall. You looked over and couldn’t believe what you were seeing. “Whoever is taking a leek up there, redirect your stream, please?”

Whoever it was did redirect the stream but pretty much still in the same area. “Thank you for that,”

It went quiet again and that’s when you heard something whirring and it was coming close to us. “We’ve got company,”

The boys helped you, Erica, and Robin up onto the top of the elevator and you saw two Russians coming in, spoke something in Russian, grabbed a few boxes left and the elevator door was closing. Steve grabbed the vial that was in Erica’s hand and dropped down into the floor and placed the vial under the door so it would stop it so we could go through. “Go, go, go, go, go,”

You all had managed to get past the door before the door shut. The vial had broken and whatever shit was in it and was eating away at the floor. Robin looked at Erica. “You still wanna drink that?”

You looked away from them and down the hallway. “Fuck,”

“Well hope you guys are in good shape,” Steve said, tapping Dustin’s stomach. “Looking at you, roast beef. Let's go, come on,”

“Why me?”

You had walked most of it in complete silence not knowing what to think or say. You were in the middle of a secret Russian base with two girls that you just met, your brother and a guy that you’re pretty sure you’re falling hard for. You always try to talk Dustin out of doing stupid shit like that but he always talks you into and the reason why is beyond you.You knew you should know better but that’s the big sister in you. You didn’t want Dustin to be in a dangerous situation without you. Your legs were starting to hurt but you kept pushing through.

“You have to admit, as a feat of engineering alone, this is impressive,”

You all looked at Dustin in complete stupidity but Steve was one to talk. “What are you talking about? It's a total fire hazard. There's no stairs, there's no exit, there's just an elevator that drops you halfway to hell,”

You rolled her eyes. “They're Commies. You don't pay people, they cut corners,”

Robin pointed at you. “To be fair to our Russian comrades, I don't think this tunnel was designed for walking. Think about it, they developed the perfect system for transporting that cargo. It all comes into the mall like any old delivery. And then they load it up onto those trucks and nobody's the wiser,”

“You think they built this whole mall so they could transport that green poison?”

“I very seriously doubt it's something as boring as poison. It's gotta be much more valuable, like promethium or something,”

“What the hell is promethium?”

“It's what Victor Stone's dad used to make Cyborg's bionic and cybernetic components,”

“You're all so nerdy, it makes me physically ill,”

“No, no, no. No, don't lump me in with them. I'm not a nerd, all right?”

“Why so sensitive, Harrington? Afraid of losing cool points to a ten-year-old child?”

“No, I'm just saying I don't know jack shit about Prometheus,”

“Promethium,” You said, not even bothering to look at Steve. “Prometheus is a Greek mythological figure,”

Steve looked over at you, shocked. “You’re a nerd too?”

You just shrugged. “Maybe,”

“It’s probably being used to make something,”

“Or power something,”

“Like a nuclear weapon?”

“Totally. Walking towards a nuclear weapon. That's great. That'd be great,”

“But if they're building something, why here? I mean, Hawkins. Seriously. Of all places,”

You girls kept walking and didn’t notice that Steve and Dustin stopped walking for a few seconds. You turned around and looked behind you and saw that Dustin and Steve were whispering about something. Robin was the one to speak. “Is there something that you wanna share with the class?”

You pointed at Robin. “What she said,”

They both looked at each other for a second before looking back at you and they looked like they wanted to say something but the walkie started to come in. “Walkie,”

"A trip to China sounds nice." If you tread lightly."

“It's the code,”

“Wherever that broadcast is coming from-.

“It's close,”

“And if there's one thing we know about that signal It can reach the surface,”

“Let's go,”

You had walked down more of the hallways and you saw where all of the Russians were at and the room was full of them.

“First floor, northwest,” Erica said.

“Saw what?”

“The comms room,”

“You saw the comms room?”

“Correct,”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. The door was open for a second, and I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there,”

“That could be a hundred different things,”

Steve looked between you and Robin. “ I'll take those odds. All right. We're gonna move fast, we're gonna stay low,”

You all snuck into the room without being noticed but as soon as you looked in front of you, you saw a Russian standing there. He spoke in Russian but you couldn’t understand it. Robin tried a few different things but it didn’t work out. Steve got tired of waiting and attacked the man. Steve took a couple of punches but eventually Steve knocked him out. “Hey Steve,”

“What, yn?”

“You did it! You actually won a fight!”

“Shut up, at least I’m not a nerd,”

“At least I won every fight I got into,”

“Oh really, now?”

“Yeah. Wanna bet I can take you?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that bet,” Your brother said.

“Guys,” Robin said, climbing back down the stairs. “There's something up there.

You all climbed out the stairs and you saw that there was some sort of machine that was pulsating and shooting out bolts of electricity at something. You didn’t know what it was. It looked like they were tearing apart the fabric of space. “The gate,” Both Dustin and Steve said in unison.

You looked at your brother. “You seen this before?”

“Uhm not exactly,”

“Then what, exactly?”

“All you need to know is it’s bad,”

“It’s really bad. Like end-of-the-human-race-as-we-know-it kind of bad,” Steve said as we walked back down the stairs.

“And you know about this how?”

“Wait, is this gate thing what you helped Dustin on?”

“Yes and no,”

“What does that mean?”

“Um, Steve? Where's your Russian friend?”

You all looked at Erica and then turned around and saw that the Russian was gone and then the alarm started blaring. “Shit,”

“Halt! Halt!”

“Shit,”.

You guys all took off up the stairs into the room with this gate thing and then ran across the room and into a room that was in the back of that room. You saw Steve trying to hold the door shut, you ran over to the door and helped keep it shut.

“Here!” Erica said as she lifted up a hatch to a door that was on the floor. “Come on, let's go!”

“Just get out of here! Get help,”

“Robin, go with them,”

As soon as those three had escaped, your bodies gave in to the weight that was pressing against the door as the Russians pushed through. A few guards grabbed you and a few guards grabbed Steve and they put you into separate rooms to I guess interrogate you. They threw you into a chair. “What’s your name?”

You didn’t answer him. “Who do you work for?”

You didn’t answer him again.

This went on for a good few minutes and you were surprised they didn’t hit you for it. You knew you were playing a dangerous game with them but your life was in danger the past two days and you just plain didn’t care anymore. If they were too busy with you and Steve, the more time Robin and the other two could get help.

“I’ll ask you again, who do you work for?”

This time you talked but answered his question with a question. “Where’s my friend?”

“Answer our questions and we’ll take him to you,”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I know how you Russians work. I answer your questions and you won’t take me to my friend. So take me to him and maybe just maybe I’ll answer your question,”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #stranger things #stranger things x reader #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #erica sinclair #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler #jonathan byers #will byers #joyce byers #eleven #jane hopper

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arklay · 2 years

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tagged by @aartyom & @nuclearstorms to do this – thank you both so much ily, i could talk about name meanings forever! ♡

tagging: @avallachs @brujah @calenhads @camelliagwerm @cultistbase @denerims @faarkas @florbelles @indorilnerevarine @jillvalcntines @leviiackrman @liurnia @montliyets @morvaris @reaperkiller @risingsh0t @shadowglens @solasan @steelport @swordcoasts @voerman @wrymbloods & anyone else who would like to do this, feel free to say i tagged you! ♡

NAME MEANINGS.

rules: search and post the meaning of your ocs' names (if you made their name up or they go by a nickname, post an explanation of how it came to you)! bonus for if you can find something for their last name too

DIANA (Диана) — of Latin origin, and the name of the Roman goddess of the hunt, wild animals, fertility and the moon. It derives from Latin dīus ("godly"), ultimately from Proto-Italic *divios, meaning "divine, heavenly". This stems from the Proto-Indo-European *diwyós ("divine, heavenly"), formed with the root *dyew- ("daylight sky") attached with the thematic suffix -yós

There's a lot to unpack here. First of all, the notion of the "right to be a god" which for her was never about being a god of a new world as such, but rather being godlike, having abilities that while granted by science, went beyond the limitations of the human body. Then there's the associations with the goddess, but specifically wild animals. Diana was a herpetologist before all else, and her fascination and love of reptiles started at a young age before she began working predominantly as a field herper, observing these animals in the wild, until her expertise extended to those kept in captivity. She also just loves little creatures. The way I chose this name literally had nothing to do with the meaning until I remembered what that was and it just fit. But she was nameless for over a month and I just kept going back to the sound of this name, like there was something about the Russian pronunciation specifically that kept scratching my brain, and I was like yeah, she chose her name for real

VIKTOROVNA (Викторовна) — the feminine Russian patronymic of the name Viktor, making it "the daughter of Viktor". The name is the Russian (amongst others) variant of Victor, from Latin origin, meaning "winner" or "conqueror"

So when I was looking for her patronymic, the way I chose this one was by saying each of the ones that I liked – because of the way they looked honestly, just ones that jumped out to me – in the proper order with her first and last name and seeing which ones sounded the nicest altogether to me. That was literally it, and then I remembered what the meaning of this name was as well and had a full on moment, but yeah, that's how I got her dad's name too obviously. Diana is a person who always works towards what she sets her mind to, all the way until she gets it, and that's a trait she actually picked up from her father, so it works. I think it's very ironic that she fails though. At least in the terms of the plan she worked on for years which led to her husband's death, but there is the upside of her bringing him back to life and the two of them create their own little empire to pull the strings from behind the scenes

AFANASYEVA (Афанасьева) — the feminine form of the Russian surname derived from the name Afanasy, which is the Russian form of Athanasios, a Greek name meaning "immortal"

Funnily enough, I chose her surname first before anything else. I can't remember how I even found it, I think I was looking specifically for meanings either surrounding immortality or rebirth, or even related to snakes at one point, and that's where I came across it. It's what actually made me decide that her background was going to be Russian as well, because I honestly just really liked it. Now, immortality… I have a lot to say about this, so hold on. First of all, directing your attention specifically to snakes, once again. As snakes shed their skin through sloughing, they are symbols of rebirth, transformation, immortality, and healing, amongst other values. The ouroboros is a symbol of eternity and continual renewal of life

For Diana, her ambitions in life changed when she was roped into working with bioweapons by The Organisation, and she found the concept of immortality fascinating and something she wanted to achieve for herself, because she truly believed that she wouldn't have enough time across her lifespan to learn everything she wanted to. Being aware of organisms that already possessed biological immortality, she believed it was possible to recreate that for humans through a modern day elixir of life of sorts. That all led her towards assisting in the engineering of the Uroboros virus, which would finally grant her those abilities and she would be able to join her husband in his supposed halted ageing. Diana also believes in the concept of an immortal soul that is reincarnated after death, which ties back to ouroboros with life, death, and rebirth and the transmigration of souls. She has said, and I quote, "I think we were supposed to find each other again" to Wesker before and I'd like a moment to scream over that, thank you. I mean you all know how I've talked about Diana just having this feeling of being known with him, and all that. It's the soulmates of it all, you know how it is

SHARP — an English surname that originated as a nickname deriving from Old English scearp, meaning "sharp" and used to describe a smart or keen person

This was the alias she used while undercover and the way I chose this was literally another case of me just liking how it sounded then going oh hey that fits actually… I was looking for a common kind of unsuspecting type of surname, think like Smith or Brown, along those lines, but I think it's funny that she probably grew up hearing "sharp as a tack" a lot because she is extremely intelligent, as well as a bit of a smartass, so she probably dealt with things like that at the company as well

REINA — means "queen" in Spanish, although there are a few other names with the same or similar spelling that have different origins with unrelated meanings

It's funny because I have had Reina for so many years and she never had a name, but I mean she's gone through so many iterations at this point that it's fine, but out of nowhere I was just like sure, that fits. Have we noticed a theme? I get the vibes for a character first and then a name will speak to me for them. But with Reina, she started going by this when she joined the Saints as a way to keep her private life separate from the gang, and it came from an old joke nickname that her late partner used to call her which just stuck with her. It's the Leo energy, that's why. But when he first saw her training in the ring at her gym and all the guys got around her after she knocked one of them flat on his ass, he struck up a conversation with her afterwards and said something along the lines of "who are you, la reina?" and it became a little nickname for her that she was rather fond of

CARMINA — an Italian and Spanish variant of Carmen, coming from the Latin word carmen which means "song", "ode" or "poem". Another origin of it is being the Spanish and Italian form of Carmel, from Hebrew karmel (הַכַּרְמֶל), meaning "garden"

Going to be honest here guys, I just chose this name because I liked the way it sounded and there's two people in my family who have forms of it. The name itself doesn't really have much correlation to Reina's personality or situation as such, but what I think is really interesting is that the Roman goddess Carmenata's name is based on the root carmen as well, and she was the goddess of childbirth and a protector of mothers and children, so I mean… gestures vaguely. Reina is a mother before all else and she would do literally anything for her daughter. And I mean I'm sure if you analysed the Odes you could also find many parallels to her life, like even just from a few of the poems I read I had a bit of a moment

MICHELI — an Italian surname that comes from the given name Michele, the Italian form of Michael, which is derived from Hebrew Mikha'el (מִיכָאֵל), meaning "who is like God?". This is a rhetorical question that implies there is none like God, or there is no one as famous and powerful as God. The question is also known in Latin as "Quis ut Deus?", particularly associated with the Archangel Michael

I originally chose this surname just based on one of playa's apparent nicknames – Mickey – that I saw on the wiki which I wanted to incorporate into her lore somehow, which I never actually do because no one really knows her surname, but it's interesting to think about what Michael is the patron saint of in relation to Reina, namely police and military. I mean I don't want to delve too deep into this cause of the topic of religion and I have other thoughts with her there, but I think it's interesting that this is where her surname comes from and she broke away from her family and rejected a lot of what they were, and then she becomes this gang leader which is obviously involved with direct conflicts with police and military groups, so you get what I mean, she's kind of the antithesis of it I suppose

REN — Japanese meaning "lotus"

This was never intended, because it was literally just Ithrenil's nickname, but I find it so symbolic that I'm kind of losing my mind. Ithrenil's actual name came from me just combining letters while trying to make something that sounded vaguely bosmer, but their nickname that only Farkas uses (until the rest of the Companions pick up on it and starts calling them that, and they hate it cause they're not a fan of nicknames and it was a special them thing) works. In terms of the symbolism, lotuses are symbols of so many things across different cultures, but a few examples are purity, transcendence, enlightenment, and rebirth. I think the purity one is interesting in terms of being a werewolf because many would think the exact opposite for Ithrenil, that their soul is cursed and tainted by their beast blood, even if they themself see it as a gift. Also the fact that purity is the name of the quest for curing either one of the twins... The other examples I feel like can all kind of relate to their relationship with being both dragonborn and a werewolf as well

MEHLIA — I just added an H to Melia, a name of Greek origin, coming from the ancient word (μελία) for ash-tree which derives from the Greek element meli (μέλι) meaning "honey". The plural, Meliae, were usually considered to be a class of nymphs associated with trees, particularly ash-trees. According to Hesiod, they were born when the drops of Uranus' blood fell on Gaia, and were said to be the progenitors of the men of the Bronze Age, who they nursed on the honey-sap of ash-trees

This was literally another case of me finding a name I thought was pretty then I looked at the meaning and it somehow worked. Her aesthetic was already based around honey, considering she has honey blonde hair, and connections to nature, so that's really fun. But I think also the association with a particular tree is interesting, considering a major symbol of city elf culture is the vhenadahl

#okay okay i'll stop there. you don't have to read these lmao i'm SO sorry for my essays... specifically diana's but listen. she makes me #feral i just care her so much and have so many thoughts and feelings about her it's nuts. also for the two (out of my more not super vague #ocs) that i didn't include: i feel like alex's is just very on the nose and there's not much i could say there beyond like in general it #relates to him? but who knows. there's probably some symbolism with hawks to him too. with dani i literally just randomly started calling #her that and it stuck but i don't think the meanings of either her first or last name really correlate to her too much? at least not that i #can think of right now but i'm sure if i really thought about it more then i would have a full on Moment lmaooooo #oc: diana #oc: reina #oc: ithrenil #oc: mehlia #tag games.

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sunnyshiftyy · 2 years

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Love Is An Open Door (And Mind) - TE one shot

Book: The Elementalists, book 2, sophomore year, late november. TW: Cursing Rating: PG-13/Teen to be safe. (I mean they make out but that’s it, nothing explicit.) Pairing: Beckett Harrington x f!MC Elise Russel. Words: 2518 Summary: Abandoned parts of libraries are like the perfect make out spot, right?! Tags: @theclassycandy , @choicesficwriterscreations

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future fanfics or TE content!

And on that note, i hope you enjoy!

“It’s really fucking cold out there..” Elise unzips her thick coat as she steps through the door Beckett is holding open with his free hand. The other tightly grips a reasonable stack of books, pressing it against his torso. He disappointedly shakes his head and walks after her.

“Always with the profanities, Russel.” he mumbles. She rolls her eyes before facing him.

“What did those books do to you?” She gestures to the stack in his arms, and hangs her jacket on the coat rack. He shoots her his resident questioning look. “You normally put them all in your backpack.”

“Uhm, they didn’t fit. I thought I could use some extra for thanksgiving break, but I already read most of them..” His soft smug expression slowly changes as he looks at his shoes, some pink dusting his cheeks. “...and there is also the fact that you can’t take any of the library books out of school grounds.” He’s embarrassed he forgot that rule. He should’ve remembered. Elise almost snorts.

“Is that an actual rule?” She leans on the librarians’ desk while Beckett checks his pile of books back in. They each fly off, enjoying their short time of freedom. If you can call it that.

“It is, and if you bothered to read the most important parts of the compendium, you would’ve known.” He busies himself with the books, so he doesn’t have to look her in the eyes. He’s more berating himself for forgetting than her for not knowing. A quiet but excited voice makes them both look up from the counter.

“Ah, my two favourite volunteers! You just have shelving this time. It’s getting a bit crazy with all the students dumping their books before break.” Mrs. Avery says. Beckett sheepishly releases his last book.

“No problem, Mrs. Avery. We’ll get started right away.” Elise smiles.

Later

He slides another book in its place when he feels a cold hand wrap around his wrist. Elise is trying to decipher the time his watch indicates. It’s kind of annoying. She uses her phone for everything. Why not for this? Her disappointed face tells it all.

“Remind me again why these shifts are 4 hours long?” she expresses, walking away with over-dramatic slumped shoulders, her oversized cardigan sliding down one.

“I will remind you that you were the one who suggested this.” he answers, calmly catching another book and stroking its spine. Elise sighs.

“I’m freezing in here.”

A/N: (basically they loose a book again (like in chapter 4 of book one) and they go chase it. I didn’t write anything between these 2 points because i honestly had no inspiration. But it’s not that interesting, so just imagine a little stupid scene here, okay, moving on:)

The door slams shut. “Where has it gone? It floated in here right? Am I hallucinating things?” Probably not. Since the first time she thought she hallucinated it was just reality. A really unbelievable reality, but it was.

“It should be around here. Maybe it’s hiding?” Beckett rolls up the sleeves of his white button up and starts digging through the spare and abandoned bookshelf on the left of them. Elise does the same.

“Do those things do that?” she replies, the surprise clearly audible in her voice. He nods.

“Most of them aren’t that stubborn though. But it’ll get tired.” He sighs. “Eventually.” Elise leans her back against the bookshelf. She studies his face. It’s concentrated. But frustrated too. It’s very weird. She’s always been exceptionally good at reading faces. The tinier the movements get, the more she’s able to pick up on the emotions. Fake smiles never fooled her. She saw through so much growing up, she makes sure to always be on her A acting game. But only when she wants to. Most of the time, she doesn’t care to cover up her emotions, which are abundantly clear on her face. Not poorly masked, but either completely real, or, when they need to be, completely fake.

“Don’t waste your sanity on this stupid piece of tree.”

“You know, this would go faster if you actually helped me.” he huffs.

“Fine.” She turns around and looks up. She grins. Bingo. There it is. Sandwiched in the middle of ‘Kitchen-magicks for beginners’ and ‘The history of familiars’ She taps his arm. “Up there.” He catches sight of it and breathes a sigh of relief.

“Finally.” He reaches up and pulls on the spine, but it doesn’t budge. Elise even tries to get it out, but, nothing. Beckett releases the book.

“Of course it’s not coming out.” It would be too easy, as always. He racks his brain for a solution. It’s a magickal book. So, probably only magick can get it out. But that wouldn’t make sense. These books almost never do this. Why did this book need to-

“It’s okay, I mean, it’s technically shelved, right?” her voice rings out. As much as he wants to agree with her, they both know better.

“You know that’s not what they mean.” he replies. His eyes are still trained on that book, watching for any movement it may make. But it stays utterly still.

“They didn’t specify the word ‘shelve’.” she argues, with a huge grin on her face. She’s technically following the rules. Beckett shakes his head and looks back at her.

“You’re just as stubbourn as that book.” His small smile makes some of the flowers in her stomach bloom. Being with him is the best decision she ever made. Though it’s confusing sometimes, it just feels right. She just hopes she doesn’t fuck it up, like she always does. Disaster girl will need to leave forever from now on. Though she’s not too sure if this exact situation isn’t one of her disasters. Her eyes don’t leave his.

“You too.” she softly retorts. For a moment, his face relaxes as his smile broadens. He internally makes fun of the way he thought they were completely different in the beginning. That he could never understand her. That didn’t stop him from being curious, though. They say opposites attract, and, initially they do, but, having things in common is like the stitching that keeps it all together in the long run. He clears his throat and gets back to reality.

“I’ll try again.” he states. He takes a hold of the book again, mumbling a quick spell under his breath, and then pulls as hard as he can, bracing his other hand against the shelf. The rack moves and wobbles, but the book doesn’t move a millimeter. Elise grabs his arm.

“Stop, stop, you’re yanking out the whole bookshelf! It’s not worth it.” she exclaims. Beckett notices her hand still feels ice cold. He gently takes the fabric of the cardigan that slid down her shoulder and pulls it up again. He actually really likes that cardigan. It suits her very well. His eyes find hers as he takes her hand in his, trying to warm it up. Her eyes sparkle and a small smile brightens her face. Before he even has time to think, his lips are on hers, softly pecking them. He quickly stops himself and pulls back. Why did he just do that? Anyone could’ve walked in, this is a library.. He shouldn’t get so carried away… His face flushes.

“What was that?” Elise smiles.

“I didn’t want you to get too cold.” he justifies. Is this what people mean when they talk about liking someone? The irrational thoughts, the no-thoughts-just-in-awe? His parents were right, it is distracting. And he’s not sure if he likes that or not.

“And the kiss?”

“Also that.” he says dryly, quickly breaking eye-contact and looking back again.

“Hmm, now that you mention it, it is kinda chilly in here.” Becketts’ expression lights up a little again. She didn’t hate it. Elises’ face inches closer to his.

“Elise, we’re in the library..” he mutters, trying to not let his gaze fall to her lips again. She smugly rocks back.

“Oh, don’t you dare pull that card, Buckett! You’re the one that started it!” Well. He can’t argue with that. He curses his prior behaviour in his head.

“Yes, I know, I.. wasn’t thinking.” he gets out, embarrassedly avoiding her amused eyes by trying to read some of the names of the books next to her head. Elise swoops her head to the side, back into his field of view, and tries to catch his eyes again.

“Then stop thinking.” Her voice sounds so gentle, so caring and calming. It grabs his attention so quick. Her words subconsciously give him a green light. Any other time, he would just suppress it. But not this time. This time, he stops thinking. He pulls her closer and crashes his lips onto hers. Slightly taken aback by his quick-change in energy, it takes her a second to catch up. She rises on her tiptoes while slipping her hands around his neck. Never in a million years did he think he would be making out in a library with the girl of – far beyond - his dreams. He feels soft fingertips run across the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. As if by reflex, he reacts by grabbing her waist and pulling her as close as he can. He wants her this close. Needs her this close. Gods, since when did that become a ‘need’? Their kisses grow more intense just before Elise pulls away, breathing heavily. “You’re annoyingly tall, you know that?” she pants. The blush on her cheeks spreads out over her whole face.

“I thought you liked our height difference?” he chuckles, while pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her smile gets even broader, and somehow even more breathtaking.

“Ninety-five percent of the time.” Somehow she gets even redder. He’ll never get tired of making her blush. The thought that comes up in his head doesn’t get cast aside, like it all too often does. No overthinking. That’s the rule.

“I think I know a solution.” He pecks her lips again before whispering “Jump.” The butterflies in her stomach all flutter around like they just drank pure sugar mixed with an extra strength energy drink. She does, and he effortlessly holds her up.

“Yeah. This works.” she smiles, and then hurriedly captures his lips again. She’s right. This ‘not thinking’ is working out pretty well.

A muffled sound from somewhere downstairs makes them break apart, both staring at the closed white door they entered the room through. The noises get louder and louder, and what sounds like footsteps echo in the other hall.

“Shit.” Elise curses as Beckett sets her down and takes a step back. She frantically looks around for any place to hide, but it’s a bare room. She looks back at her boyfriend with eyes wide in oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit-mode. He’s already on it, moving his hands in a familiar fashion.

“I��m putting up a ward. Don’t move.” he whispers. The footsteps blare through her ears, just like her heartbeat, which should at least be beating 110 by this point. In the corners of her eyes, she sees him still trying to put it up. The doorknob turns.

“Elise! I was looking for you all over! You’re not supposed to be in here.” Mrs Avery gets out, slightly out of breath. Elise sneaks a fast glance beside her, but no sign of Beckett. Thanks a lot, Becky.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Avery, I lost a book and I thought it flew in here, but I haven’t found it yet.” Mrs. Avery seems to take it very lightly.

“Oh, that’s okay, hun, I’m sure it’ll find it’s way back.” She waves it off and looks out in the hall again. “Do you know where your coworker is? You are both still on the clock, and these books won’t shelve themselves, you know.” If she only knew..

“I thought he was still downstairs? That’s where I last saw him. Maybe he’s in the bathroom?” Elise responds. The frail woman nods.

“I’ll go check another time.” She looks at the small rack of books next to Elise and sighs. “Try to find it for another five minutes, but then I need you back downstairs, with or without it.”

“Will do.” And with that, Mrs. Avery closes the door again. Elise stands there, unmoving, listening to the steps fading away. “Gee, thanks for the ward, genius.” Beckett immediately disables it.

“I don’t know why it only half worked. But at least it prevented her from seeing us together and making assumptions.” he sighs. As ‘boring’ as it is, he doesn’t want to loose this job. Four hours of extra time spent together, plus the extended access… Too many benefits to loose.

“Which would be true.” Elise points out. Beckett smiles and shakes his head. When he catches sight of her face again, he narrows his eyes, and then a subtle blush creeps on his face.

“I hope she didn’t look too close at your face.”

“Why?” He chuckles and gently takes her jaw in one hand, lightly swiping his thumb over her lips.

“Your lips are a little red.” Elise slaps her hand to her mouth and pushes his more to the side. She stares back at him with big eyes. “Only a little.” It makes him want to kiss her again. But they can’t, can they? They almost got caught... Nope, there’s the thinking again. Not now. He pushes his worries aside and takes her waist again with his free hand. Beckett smoothly backs his girlfriend up against the bookshelf. It wobbles and suddenly, there’s a loud thud.

“Auch!” Elise exclaims and rubs her head.

“Are you okay?” Beckett quickly steps back, worriedly looking her over. Still clutching her head, she bends down and picks something up from the floor.

“I am..” Her expression brightens as she reads the title on the wine red cover. “I think we got the book.” She proudly holds it up in her hand. ‘Love spells of the early 15th century’. How ironic. Beckett takes it out of her hand and takes a look at it. “And what do you say now?” Her cheeky grin almost predicts what she’s about to say.

“What?”

“Thank you Elise, for finding the book.” She acts it out like she just found the secret to eternal life. But, to be fair, she found it in the first place, and, it fell on her head. Beckett half-smiles and takes a deep breath before looking in her hazel eyes.

“Thank you.” He hopes she noticed the genuinity in his voice.

“Why, you’re welcome kind sir.” she laughs.

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” He tries to not blush as he tugs his sleeves down his forearms. He jerks his head towards the door. “Come on, before we get caught a second time.”

“Technically the first.” He rolls his eyes, still a little smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t think either of us wants that to happen, right?” he replies. Elise makes a fake thinking face and then purses her lips.

“I’d rather not.”

“Perfect. Let’s go.” Beckett grabs the doorknob and opens the door, but doesn’t step through. Instead, he steps slightly to the side and looks back at Elise. Now it’s her turn to laughingly roll her eyes.

“Always so extra, Harrington.” she playfully mumbles as she walks through the door.

Hope you enjoyed!

A/N: If you want to know more about my OC’s in my TE universe, click here. If you want to read more, here’s my masterlist with all the fics on it! (dated <3) Another thing: you can find sneak peaks of future fics and other posts on my masterlist (indicated with coming soon!) Last thing: my asks are still open! If you want headcanons or anything, don’t be shy, ask some more :)

This was just a little preview of a bigger project I am working on, it will change drastically later but the idea will remain the same.

#the elementalists #theelementalists #playchoices #playchoices the elementalists #Beckett x Mc #beckett harrington #beckett harrington x mc #te mc #te fanfics #te fanfiction #choices fanfic #cfwc fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #the elementalists mc #the elementalists fanfic #the elementalists fanfiction

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maybestronger · 2 years

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A study of one Chrissy Cunningham (of Stranger Things fame) through the tropes of : All Guys Want Cheerleaders, Broken Bird, Cigarette of Anxiety, Hair of Gold Heart of Gold, Sacrificial Lamb, && Stepford Smiler!

Personals && those under the age of 18 (preferably 21) do not interact.|| 25+ Mun

MUN :

Name : Tara

Age : 29+

MUSE :

Name : Chrissy Cunningham

Age : 18 (As of her senior year in 86’)

Faceclaim : Grace Van Dien

LAWS :

NO GODMODDING : A little bit is okay here and there but please. Nothing big. If it moves the story along and your muse is simply flowing, go for it. But Chrissy is my character and I would prefer to play her how I see fit. That sound fair right? If you think something might be considered too big just to assume, please feel free to ask!

MUTUALS ONLY : I really hate to say it, but as it tends to make me uncomfortable when people jump into my inbox or IM’s with things when I’m not following them, its gotta be said? I usually look through my followers every so often though so if I’m going to follow you back, it should be fairly quickly. If you see something in the tags such as an open starter, that’s fine to reply to, but I reserve the right to not answer.

VERSES : Unless otherwise stated, I will place Chrissy in whatever verse I think fits the best. I would be more than willing to plot something out before hand with you though so all you need to do is slip me a message and we will figure something out! You have no idea how much I love to plot things. That goes for AU’s as well. I love them to pieces.

SHIPS : I ship Chrissy/Chemistry. I will not force a ship on you and if you are feeling as though I am, please come and tell me. I will change whatever it is that is making you uncomfortable though I do expect the same from you. And on the topic of ships, I as the mun am over the age of consent in every country and am therefore able to rp smut, and in most cases am willing to do so. That being said, I will not be rp'ing such topics with those that are below the age of 18. If you wish to fade to black or take things off tumblr (discord avaliable) please just let me know!

FORMATTING : I do not mind how you format to be honest. Although I do prefer small text paired with icons (gif icons are okay as well, though just know I only use icons at this moment in time), if that isn’t something you do, it’s okay! You can copy my formatting if you wish, but it is unnecessary, as I will likely not do the same in return. I’ve grown used to my formatting. I realize that this seems to be a large topic of discussion around here, but it’s all good to me haha.

IMPORTANT ADDITIONS : This is a safe place blog. Truly and wholly. Everyone from Billy to Vecna is welcome here. If you don’t like it, you’re more than welcome to block and move on, or simply blacklist certain usernames because I tag them each and every time I post a reply. If you do wish to interact but don’t want me on the dash for whatever reason, we can move things to discord if that would make things easier - it’s entirely up to you. Make your space comfortable. That goes for DNI’s as well - I don’t particularlly listen to them. I haven’t been in this fandom space for over two years now, so I know I’ve missed out on a ton of drama. And it isn’t something I really wish to keep on top of. If you have to unfollow in order to keep your peace, I won’t be offended. Just let me know if you’re still interested in interacting and we can figure out a way to work around it. <3 Stay safe out there folks.

#pinned #rules under the read more <3 #updated :#4/18/2024

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jokertrap-ran · 9 days

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[スタオケ] La Corda d'Oro Starlight Orchestra Main Story Chapter 2-9 Translation

*Starlight Orchestra Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Main story tag will be #Main Starlight

Female Student 1: That was a brilliant concert~ What should we do now? Should we go to study in a nearby cafe?

Female Student 2: Sure! There’s an exam coming up, so we have to put in our due diligence.

Female Student 3: Why do I feel like we’ve all gotten much closer after we started holding study sessions together?

Female Student 2: Hehe. Right? I guess this is what you call the springtime of life.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Kirigaya: I’ve finished up things on my end.

Kirigaya: …Hm? And why are your eyes shining like that…

Seiji: You’re up to something. And I’m 90% sure that it’s nothing good.

⊳ Choice: Let’s hold a study session with all three of us!

Kirigaya: HUH? Me? Study with him? You’ve gotta be kiddin’...

Seji: The idea of holding a study session is sound, but getting this guy to sit in a chair for a prolonged period is nigh impossible.

Kirigaya: What, ya’ belittlin’ me?

Seiji: And there you have it. See? No need to force us to befriend each other.

And they get along swimmingly when they’re arguing with each other too…

Seiji: Judging from that look on your face, did you really think that we’d make up and be friends through a study session?

Akira: C’mon, don’t look so down. I’ll do it, but only if it doesn’t take long.

Seiji: And he took the bait… You’re one unsuspecting schemer, aren’t you?

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Seiji: (L/n)-san? You’ve been stuck on that question for a while now… Are you at your wit’s end yet?

Akira: Ya’ just have to look at the answer sheet for that, don’t you? If you copy the answers down, you’ll get it all down pat in a minute at most—

Akira: There isn’t one…? Damnnit, let me shimmy my way out of this like how I always do at least!

Seiji: Come now, don’t force such low standards onto her. Were the Concertmistress to stoop to your level, then this Orchestra is going to fall into ruin.

Akira: Ahh, I’m so glad your sly and studious bespectacled ass didn’t end up bein’ the Concertmaster. You’d ruin it for everyone.

They’d both been throwing insults at one another while studying.

⊳ Choice: You guys actually seem to be getting along better now…

Akira: Huh??? Seiji: I find it hard to understand just how you came to that conclusion.

⊳ Choice: You both fight like an old couple

Akira: No way in hell. Akira: If that’s true, then, surely, I must be best friends with the delinquents down in Ibaraki.

⊳ Choice: You’re both like two pieces of a puzzle!

Seiji: Poor thing’s hallucinating. Did you go scavenging for the wrong mushrooms?

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Akira: Ahhh, I can’t do this any longer. I’m outta here…

Akira: ….Huh? What’s this music sheet?

Akira: Is this… Mack the Knife?

Seiji: Oh? Do you play jazz too? I must say, that’s an interesting choice.

Seiji: Playing this song while hunting down the delinquents in Ibaraki…

⊳ Choice: What do you mean by that?

Seiji: This song is about outlaws. It's a Jazz standard. Akira: The townsfolk once heard rumors of a serial killer on the loose, and his name was Mack. You can't see him, but you can sense his presence.

⊳ Choice: I think it’s fitting

Akira: So you do get it! The lyrics are aggressive as well. Akira: It’s about outlaws. They remain strong in the face of adversity despite their fear, and they won’t bow down to those in power.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Akira: This guy can pull off the craziest stunts while remaining unseen. Don’t ya’ think that’s cool?

Seiji: However, not only was his identity revealed, but rumors had also started to spread. If he’s not a goner by then, then I don’t know what is.

Seji: I think I can handle it much better than him regardless of who I’m up against.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Looks like “Mack the Knife” has managed to catch their interest.

⊳ Choice: Why don’t you try playing it now?

Seiji: I knew you were going to say that sooner or later. Akira: Sure thing. It’s loads better than borin’ old studyin’.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Both of their performances perfectly complement each other.

It was harmony, something that we couldn’t attain in our prior practice sessions.

But… I feel like I’ve heard this resonance somewhere before…

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Tomoharu: Here, look. This video seems to have been taken from when the place was still in business.

Ginga: We can’t really see the other guy. The video’s too dark.

⊳ Choice: (No way… Was the other person from back then…)

Seiji: What is it? It's a little distracting when you stare at me like that.

⊳ Choice: I think I know now!

Akira: Know what? Seiji: Who knows? Perhaps she had a eureka moment regarding the question she was stuck on earlier.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Seiji: Miss Concertmistress here seems to have lost her focus as well. What do you say we end things here for today?

Akira: About time too. See you next time, (L/n)-san.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬Main Starlight♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-8) Next Part: (Chapter 2-10)

#金色のコルダスターライトオーケストラ #スタオケ #Starlight Orchestra #Otome #Translations #Kiniro no Corda #La Corda d'Oro Starlight Orchestra #Main Starlight

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seraphdreams · 3 years

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𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲 — 𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐮.

contains - sub! inui, femdom!reader, mommy kink, a little bit of mdlb, choking, praise, dumbification, dacryphilia, pegging, lingerie & heels, slight feminization of inui, slight fear play. 18+ mdni.

synopsis - a pretty boy deserves pretty lingerie, and to be fucked dumb until he can’t speak.

author’s note - this is my first time writing inui, PLEASE go easy on me. also i really branched out from what i usually write here.

he’s your pretty boy, right? there’s not a thing wrong with him, he’s entirely perfect. from his scar, to his long, sunflower blond hair, to his body decorated in sheer black lingerie. sure, it was a bit embarrassing for him—especially with the way his hard cock seemed to practically break free from the panty set you bought him but he looks too beautiful to stop now.

“m-mommy, it doesn’t fit” he whines out as he sits in front of you on the bed, uncomfortably fidgeting with the lingerie. “i think ‘s too tight.” he continues, looking up at you for guidance. too tight? it can’t be; the lace bra cups his chest perfectly as the matching thong holds him just right, the strings on the side digging into his waist. “baby, you’re just not used to it” you hum, dipping your two fingers into the seat of the panties and pulling them to the side, his hard on springing out along with swollen balls.

just like his face, his body is pretty as well, toned muscles from years of fighting. it contrasts how soft he is now, with his mommy. he spreads his legs with a gasp as the head of his cock slaps against his stomach. “does this feel better?” you ask, your hand now coming to stroke at his length. “y-yes..” he creaks out, cheeks and nose dusted with a pretty pink blush and eyes squeezed shut. he’s sensitive, and he knows you know that, so his only choice is to endure the feeling.

he responds to each twist and squeeze of your hand with high pitched yelps, eyes locked onto your hand because he just can’t get enough. that’s when you stop, halting your motions and running a light finger down the underside of his dick. he takes a moment to breathe before asking you, “mommy, why’d you stop?” you let out a chuckle in response to his question, looking into his eyes with nothing but pure adoration, that and the thought that lingers in the back of your mind—breaking him.

“don’t worry, sei. mommy’s going to make you feel even better.”

excitement and fear runs through his veins. he knows those words all too well, and exactly what they mean. you turn to the dresser behind you, lathering your fingers with lube before getting back to him. “are you gonna—“ you hush his question by pushing him back and rimming his pretty puckered hole with your fingers, drawing circles around the area. he shudders at your touch before you dip two of your digits in, curling your fingers slowly at his walls.

“nngh, mommy..” he moans out, his hair splayed across the pillows and legs spread wide. you run your free hand over the lingerie, slipping under the bra and playing with his nipples. “good, good boy. you look so pretty being a mess for mommy.” you coo as you reach your fingers deeper and curling faster. the softness of his walls against your digits only ease you in further as you can tell by the twitch of his cock and how he’s pathetically rutting his hips onto you, that he’s close. “please let me cum!” he cries out, pretty tears adorning his lash line as you tantalizingly remove your fingers, giving him a faux smile, mocking intent behind it. “not yet, i want you to cum on my cock.”

and with that, his heart is thumping repeatedly, about to burst out of his chest in anticipation of what you’re about to do to him. it’s then when he sees the way you pull out a strap on, probably bigger than him, and lubricate it before adjusting it to your waist and treading toward him. he’s so pretty with eyes blown out in fear as you fold his legs back, his feet decorated with pretty red heels. “now be a good boy, sei, and take all of it.” he nods his head frantically before squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering out when he feels the way you settle yourself inside him.

“‘s so big, m-mommy!” he whines as you bottom yourself inside him. you pull back and slam into him hard, fucking him at a brutal pace that makes him see stars immediately. “oh god, oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck, ah!” he cries, his voice pitchy and breaking under the weight of your palm around his throat. pretty boys always look best when they’re being fucked like sluts. “aw? does my little boy feel good?” you coo. he responds with a nod of his head and incessant babbling. how cute, it’s something about the way he seems to always be so obedient with you. you go to stroke his cock as you continue your hammering movements, watching as those pretty tears in his eyes form all over again. his brows are furrowed and drool coats his lips as he cries out “mommy! ‘s too much!”

too much? guess you’ll have to show him what too much really is. you fold his legs back as far as they can, squeezing the fat tip of his cock harder when you stroke him and fucking him at an undying pace. he’s definitely sensitive and with the way you’re making him feel good he can’t help but coat your hand in thick white ropes of his cum, rasping out “thank you, thank you, thank you” while he bucks his hips into your hand. “oh, inupi. you’re a mess.”

“mommy’s pretty little mess.”

tags - @ryugucci @rumwrld @suyasgf @planetsano @itachiwands @drakenology @zeeroweenies @puptarou @izukine @arumiee @smoochiesdiarie

– all rights reserved © seraphdreams 2021. do not repost, change, copy, republish, read, translate, or recommend my work on tumblr or any other platforms without prior permission. feedback is widely appreciated!

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

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Clean /// Sakusa x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: [College dorm AU] Sakusa can’t stop thinking about you in the shower.

A/N: Indirectly inspired by @seita and @bakatenshii, who made me think about soap and Sakusa’s cum in conjunction…thanks guys :P

Tags/warnings: masturbation, mild cleanliness fetish if that’s a thing?, Sakusa wants you and is in deep denial about it

It’s not like he started doing it on purpose. Not at first.

On weekdays, you wake up at the same time that Sakusa gets back from the gym: 7 AM exactly. He timed it that way because they clean the dorm bathrooms at 6:30—they’re still revolting, but they can’t be as bad as the ones at the gym. He can avoid touching the stall walls if he has to, and…he has to. 7 is the perfect time—even the students with 8 AM class can’t be fucked to wake up that early, so he gets the row of mirrors and stalls to himself.

Except for you.

Your room is right next to the stairwell; when Sakusa jogs up the stairs (two at a time, blood still pumping from his workout even though the sweat is already cooling on his back) he can hear your alarm through the thin wall. Always 7 on the dot: your phone blares an obnoxiously loud ringtone, there’s a muffled protest from you and your roommate curses at you to turn that shit off, it’s seven fucking AM. By the time he’s standing at the bathroom sink brushing his teeth, you’re usually pushing through the door in your pajamas, holding your towel in one hand and rubbing your puffy eyes with the other.

So it’s not like Sakusa plans this. It’s a coincidence. Mostly.

“G’morning…Kiyoomi.” You interrupt yourself with a yawn in the middle of the sentence. Your voice sounds heavy with exhaustion and he wonders, not for the first time, why you bother waking up so early. You don’t seem like a morning person.

The toothbrush is still in Sakusa’s mouth, so he just nods to greet you. You smile sleepily and then bend down to reach your bathroom locker, and—fuck, fuck, you’re wearing the shorts again, the threadbare cotton ones you wear whenever the weather gets a little warmer. They’re thin (so thin he can see the high cut of your panties underneath when they’re stretched over your ass, not that he’s looking), and they’re short.

Do you know how much you’re showing off when you bend over like that to rummage through your locker? You’re basically showing your ass off, the smooth muscle of your thighs rising up into those perfect cheeks, and between them, the dingy cotton stretched tight over your mound—

He’s not looking. He shouldn’t be looking. Sakusa lowers his gaze in the mirror to spit the toothpaste into the sink.

“Hey, can I borrow some of that?”

You’re standing at his elbow now, blinking up at him. Pleading. When he wordlessly hands over the tube, you grin, eyes crinkling up at the corners like he just offered to take your hand in marriage rather than letting you have some toothpaste that he wasn’t going to miss anyway. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

You barely know him. Sakusa’s pretty sure that these early-morning bathroom encounters are the only times you two interact.

“How was your workout?” you ask when you’re done brushing your teeth.

Sakusa has to grip the edge of the counter to tear his eyes away from you when you spit it out—white foam dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin—but that’s beside the point. “It was fine.”

“Yeah? Did you run or go to the gym?”

“Gym.” Why are you so curious? You’re too friendly.

You hum appreciatively, rubbing foamy circles of cleanser into your skin. The smell of it is light—floral, but barely. Lavender, maybe. That’s step one of your morning skincare routine, which Sakusa’s pretty certain he knows as well as you do by now. Next will be toner, and then you’ll save the rest for after your shower—but before you reach for the next little bottle in the row you’ve lined up on the bathroom counter, you turn toward him. “I should get back on a regular gym schedule too. Maybe one day I’ll go with you?”

“If you can wake up that early.” The remark must come out harsher than Sakusa intended, because you raise your eyebrows and your mouth drops open—but a second later you’re smiling again, turning back to the mirror so you can pat the toner into your skin.

“You’re probably right. I don’t know how you wake up at six in the morning every day.”

5:45, he wants to correct. But if he keeps talking to you, you’re going to notice he’s staring. So he just finishes washing his face without answering, puts his stuff back into the locker, and makes his way over to the shower stalls, leaving you and the scent of lavender behind.

There are five stalls. All open, of course. Second from the left has the best water pressure, and the one on the far right has a removable shower head and heats up the quickest. But Sakusa chooses the middle stall. For no reason. Not because he knows exactly which stall you’re going to pick, and he wants to be sure he’s in the stall next to yours when you do. He takes his time—undresses slowly, folding his dirty gym clothes even though they’re going straight into the laundry; sets his shampoo and conditioner and body wash out on the bench in the order that he’s going to use them; turns the knob to just the right angle to get the right temperature and waits for it to heat up until he can see the steam saturating the air.

By the time Sakusa’s under the water, massaging shampoo through his hair and feeling the sweat slough off his skin along with the shower spray, you’re done with your pre-shower skincare, padding over from the sinks to the stalls and picking—predictably—the one next to his. He has to strain himself to hear it over the sound of splashing water but he does hear it: your cheap pink flip-flops slapping against the tile floor, the relieved yawn in your breath as you stretch (you always stretch) and the soft rustling of fabric as you take off your clothes and deposit them in a heap on the bench.

Sakusa tilts his head up into the shower spray and feels the stray drops clinging to his eyelashes and wonders how much he’d be able to see if the walls were made of glass.

Today is Wednesday, and that means you’re going to wash your hair today because you always wash it on Wednesdays. Sakusa can already smell the shampoo you use filtering into the air. What is it? Sharper and more bitter than mint, medicinal almost—he’s considered asking you a few times what it is, but he can’t figure out a way to phrase the question.

Hey, (Y/N), tell me what product you use to wash your hair. Ever since I started jacking off in the shower to you, I can’t get off unless I’m smelling it.

That probably wouldn’t go over well.

Fuck, he’s already hard. The heat of the shower is nothing compared to the heat of his blood pumping down to his cock. Sakusa rinses through his hair quickly, freeing up his hands so he can palm his shaft and give it a tentative stroke.

Through the shower wall you give a light, soft sigh of appreciation, and Sakusa feels his cock jump in his hand. You prefer your showers hotter than he does—white puffs of steam are rising up over the gap between the stall divider and the ceiling, and you always come out flushed. The heat must feel nice, hm? He can almost see you, standing naked under the shower head in just your stupid pink flip-flops, letting rivulets of water drip down from the crown of your head to flow lower…over your shoulders, your back, your tits; your fingers lathering the shampoo through your hair, soap bubbles washing the grease away from you, draining away yesterday’s grime so you’re all fresh and squeaky clean.

You sigh again, and your voice is pushing out behind the breath. A moan, almost. Do you ever touch yourself in the shower? He’d be a hypocrite to think you shouldn’t be able to take advantage of this rare moment of privacy…it’s so hard to get time to yourself in the dorms, he can sympathize… So maybe you let your hands dip lower while you wash, shift your thighs apart so you can fit your fingers between them. Pet that puffy little cunt, push your fingers inside, feel your slick wash off in the water just to be replaced with more.

Sakusa wraps his fingers around his cock and slides his hand up the shaft, moving slowly so he can savor the light friction. Your hands would be soft, wouldn’t they? Softer than his. You don’t have calluses like he does—all that lotion you use must be doing you some good. And your hands are a lot smaller than his are…you’d probably have trouble getting one hand all the way around. You’d have to use both hands to hold him, hold his cock and pump him, jack him off…

If your hands are too small for him, what about your mouth?

The shower is so warm and you’re so close. Sakusa closes his eyes so he can breathe in that sweet medicinal smell and imagine you in here with him.

Your mouth. Soft lips, no makeup, just your natural color dampened from the water and your spit and his precum, closed around him, stretched around him to accommodate for the mass of his cock sitting in your mouth. Little pink tongue flicking out to tease the tip, lapping flat at the underside and then kissing it. You’d be a tease, a fucking tease. Looking up at him with those eyes, batting your eyelashes over your dewy-wet cheeks as you try to swallow him a little deeper. He’d tangle his fingers around the back of your head, push the strands of wet hair away from your face, pull your mouth up and down on his cock while the water splashes down around the two of you—

There’s a click of a cap popping shut and your shoes smacking wetly against the floor while you reach over to grab another bottle. You’re humming to yourself—a song Sakusa’s heard on his friends’ playlists and at parties but he doesn’t know the lyrics. Sometimes you sing in the shower (always softly, under your breath, so quiet he’d barely be able to hear if he wasn’t listening) but today you just hum. Maybe you’d sing out loud if he wasn’t there?

You’re probably being considerate to him...you do seem like the type. After all, you must be as aware of his presence three feet away from you as he is of yours. You probably think about him in the shower too.

Sakusa’s hips buck forward, pushing his dick through his hand as he pumps it with no real technique or rhythm, just trying to match the pace of his breathing to what he can hear of yours. The heat of his impending climax is coiling low in his belly, even though it hasn’t been long—it never takes long when he’s thinking about you. You’ve practically become a part of his own morning routine, to the point where he couldn’t even get off when he went home for spring break a few weeks ago. When the two of you move out of the dorms and go your separate ways, it’s going to be annoying. He should really stop this, wean himself off you while he can…not that he really wants to.

Your voice isn’t bad when you sing, but it’d be a lot better moaning his name.

People fuck in the showers. Sakusa knows that, he’s heard them himself and always been acutely disgusted at the filth of it all. Dorm bathrooms are notoriously foul—there’s a reason people wear shoes when they’re showering, and the thought of people actually fucking in here makes his skin crawl. But with you? He can see it, he can feel it—the soft fat of your thighs in his hands, skin dimpling under his grip as he holds you up; your arms twisted around his neck hugging into him; the hot water streaming over both of your bodies as his cock slaps into your pussy, burying into that tight wet heat.

Sakusa grits his teeth to stifle a groan and wonders if you heard it, and then he’s feeling around for the memory of your sleepy “Good morning, Kiyoomi” and warping your voice in his mind until he can almost hear your lips wrapping around his name, panting it, whimpering it, choking it out between pleas for him to fuck you harder—Kiyoomi, please, fuck me fuck me just like that, fuck my little pussy til I can’t walk straight Kiyoomi I need you!

God, he wants to hear it, he wants to say your name, wants you to know he’s jacking off to you. Sakusa’s hand speeds up and his hips are thrusting into his fist, the water making wet clicking noises every time his cockhead moves up past his fingers as he imagines fucking you right here in this shower. He’d make you cum, make you clench and tighten around him, make you wake up the entire goddamn floor with your screaming, and—fuck, he’s mouthing out the syllables, and then he can hear his own voice out loud and he’s saying your name—

“K-Kiyoomi?”

Your actual voice—lifted, high and clear as a bell ringing even stifled by the stall and the rushing water hits Sakusa and he flinches—and cums, cock jerking under his grip as the sticky white fluid shoots out to coat his hand. It’s good, so good, so fucking good, you said his name, you said it, fucking perfect—the release passes over him so forcefully that he has to hold his breath to bite back the stuttered hiss of pleasure from deep in his throat.

“Kiyoomi?” you ask again from the other stall, voice uncertain. “Did you say my name? I thought I heard you…”

It takes him a long moment to catch his breath, and another to work up enough control to straighten and raise his hand to the spray, letting the cum wash off his skin and down the drain in cloudy white trickles. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, sorry! Guess I imagined it.” You’re back to your cheerful self, humming that brainless melody and soaping yourself up without a care in the world. So gullible. Like always. And it’s not like Sakusa wanted to get caught, but…he can’t help wondering what you’d do if you knew.

Maybe you’d hate him. Maybe you’d call him a creep, stop showering when he does, avoid his gaze when you pass each other in the halls.

Or maybe you’d be into it.

Sakusa finishes his shower at the same time you do, so he can catch you just as you step out of the stall. “Oh—“ you start, barely keeping yourself from bumping into his chest. “Oops!”

Your face is stained pink from the heat of the shower…or maybe it’s the way you’re staring at his bare chest that’s making you blush. Sakusa’s not flattering himself—he knows he’s good-looking, knows what the years of athletics have done for him, and you are staring—but just for a moment before you catch yourself and right your gaze back up to his face, absently watching him towel off his hair. The fact that you let your eyes stray a little gives him permission to do the same, so he takes a moment to examine the lines of your shoulders, your soaked hair sticking to your neck, the dip of your cleavage under the fluffy white robe you’re wearing.

You smell good, all soft and wet and clean. Sakusa can’t help imagining if you taste that good, too.

“Um…s’cuse me,” you say after a moment when he doesn’t move to let you pass through the walkway. You could try to skirt around him, but he’s so big.

“What shampoo do you use?”

You blink and pat your hair self-consciously. “It’s, uh, tea tree oil? It has peppermint and lavender and stuff too I think, it’s really good for waking up in the morning—sorry, I know some people don’t like the smell—“

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” Sakusa’s eyes narrow before he steps out of the way to let you walk past.

I like it, he wants to add. But he doesn’t.

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa #hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! imagines #hq imagines

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chiwhorei · 3 years

Text

𝐀𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐚

✞𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚��𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧✞

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, Dark Content, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 3,175 [Link to Ao3]

Tags: Darkfic, sacrelige, coercion, corruption, dubcon and noncon elements, intonations and parallels to incest, but not actual incest (ie. ‘Father’ Shouta), choking, age-gap, oral, Priest!Aizawa, Virgin!Reader

From Chiwhorei: Aizawa is where this all started, so it’s fitting he is the subject of my anniversary fic. To everyone who’s followed me along this journey despite the long bouts of radio silence, to everyone that’s participated and supported this collab, to all of my lovely, devious friends— truly, completely, thank you for this past year. Xoxo.

The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.

** ** **

There’s not a soul awake this late.

The rosary wrapped between twitching fingers feels like a hot lashing against the skin. The glass and metal itch in your hold, the devotional was a gift for your confirmation-- it holds a decade of sins.

Your family has been asleep for hours now. Slipping through the back door as soon as you’re sure. Nineteen. A legal adult. Yet the only way to leave in the middle of the night is in secret. The cool, summer air hits your cheeks, it’s still for a moment. It’s so quiet, you feel like you’ve mistaken the real world for a snow globe. Static— in the moments after all of the glitter settles, all of the quiet, iridescent tears laying at your feet. It waits, patiently, until someone comes by to shake it again.

Moving into a cramped dorm room a few hours away, your childhood home feels bigger every visit. It’s bigger because nothing fills the space inside. There’s nothing but tense words and the clatter of silverware against dinner plates. Your father reminds you of an old briefcase— stern, rigid leather, unmistakably empty; your mother’s rose garden smells like poisoned wine.

Roses and leather, the combination suffocating enough to repel you in the hours you should be unconscious.

The walk from your parent’s house to the church is the most familiar thing in the world. Down to the cracks on the sidewalk and mossy steps leading up to a set of large, cherry doors. So routine it almost feels good for you.

There’s not a soul awake this late, you decide, that must be why you’re here.

That must be why he’s up too.

Pushing open one ornate door just enough to peek inside, you’re met with that distinct waft of incense and dusty missals. It smells like every Sunday morning and Easter Vigil, it smells like home.

Only votive candles light the space around you, flickering with intentions from fellow parishioners. You wonder if there’s one burning for you.

You know where to find Father Shouta, and suspect he’s waiting. He can trace every step from your parents home to the front gate. You open the confessional booth and crawl inside, the wooden space around you is cramped. It smells like incense masking cigarettes. Kneeling into the leather cushion, you face the screen partition.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was,” the memory has you falter, “three months ago.”

You remember the last hollow confession like it was yesterday. You were back in town for spring break. After mass that Sunday, your dad told Father Shouta how deplorable it was that your friends had tried, in vain, to drag you to the beach a few hours away from campus. “A week of drinking and sex, not for my daughter.”

Shouta met with you that evening and you cried your sins to him. How you had been dared to kiss boys at a party during midterms week, how you drank who-knows-what mixed with cheap beer at a frat house. He consoled you then, he told you that God will forgive all transgressions. “Even the sins of a whore.”

The memory makes you want to cry all over again. Yet, here you are— knees pressed to the very same leather, face against the same dusty screen.

He’s so still, so quiet, you jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice, “What is it that you’d like to confess, my child?”

Your body aches, stiff and tense to the bone. You breathe in, shallow and suffocated, before you speak again.

“Father, forgive me I—” you can tell his posture is just as rigid, he’s only a shadowed outline and the slightest glimmer of color from his eyes. They warn you, but you ignore the familiar feeling on the back of your neck.

“I have been having impure thoughts. I’ve been thinking about a man,” one more deep breath in an attempt to keep your voice neutral, “a much older man.”

If you could hear a smile, Father’s creaks like floorboards.

His silence prompts you to continue, you knot your fingers together and hold them against your stomach, the Rosary tangled in between threatening to cut off circulation.

“The boys in my youth group, the ones in my classes— they’re all nice but,” you leave the second half of the sentence to rattle around in your mind, “but they aren’t you.”

“Impure thoughts are one thing, sinful, but,” his voice is indifferent, cold, “the true sins are ones of the flesh.”

“I- I haven’t,” you start to stutter, trying to defend yourself, “I haven’t done anything, Father.”

Despite himself, he laughs.

“It’s true Father,” you wonder why you hadn’t just stayed at home, “I’ve only ever kissed a boy— it wasn’t even a real kiss. I’m still a virgin.”

From the screen, you can only see him in fragments. Little cutouts of a dark figure and sickeningly bright red eyes. The color peaks through like pieces of a puzzle, chasing through the patterned wood before you can catch that he’s stepping out of his side of the confessional booth.

“It wasn’t a ‘real’ kiss,” each word is mimicked, emphasized by the tap of his shoes against the tiles below, “no, of course it wasn’t. Not with some boy.” Your legs are unsteady as you stand from the kneeler. There’s nowhere to hide, Father has you trapped in a toy box. Just for him to play with.

“Of course that wouldn’t have satisfied you.”

The door to your side of the booth creeks open just as your back hits the wall. You can see his face for the first time in months, you trace the features illuminated with candlelight. Father Shouta’s face is strong, even more sharp with his long, black hair tied back. His presence looms over where you’re sunken into the booth. Even standing and puffing out your chest, he’ll still be able to look down at you.

He bares his teeth. You know this by now, stupid little girl, you know he likes to play with his food.

Long fingers grip the small door frame and curl around the wood like an omen, his body slithers into your personal space until he’s only an inch away.

“Lust, greed, what is it that you want?” Each vowel cradles a hearty dose of poison, the consonants bite away and spit you out. Your skin feels raw under his attention, “You can’t atone for sins you’re not really sorry for.”

Those same fingers slide up either curve of your neck, he crawls from shoulder to jaw, slowly. So slowly it seems like he’s trying not to get caught. He holds steady against your skin, thumb rubbing lightly at your bottom lip. You must have just fallen asleep after your parents went to bed, that stale, poisoned house even lulling the restless. You must be dreaming right now.

“Don’t make me ask again.” His timber hits the three walls and brings you back to the present. There’s no rest for you, only a weak answer to his question. What is it that you want?

“I want to be a humble servant of our Lord.” Your voice shakes, battered against your throat on its way to meet the stiff air.

Father’s lips are on you, he traces the words of Luke over your trembling mouth, there’s only a breath of space between you,

“No one can serve two masters. For you will hate one and love the other; you will be devoted to one and despise the other,”

The hands holding your cheeks move down to circle your neck, each long finger lays a trap. He tightens around the skin, just enough to make you forget how it feels to breathe freely. He could do anything to you right now, and your cries for help would be swallowed by stained glass.

No one can serve two masters.

The scream caught in your throat meets his wicked smile, it fizzles into little more than a whimper. The small booth you’ve been trapped in is burning hot, you feel sweat beading on your forehead. The last ounce of courage, of restraint, tumbles out before you can catch it.

“Who do you serve, Father Shouta? God or the Devil?”

He answers you with a thick tongue finally pushing into your mouth. He smells like perfumed oils and votive candles, he tastes like sugar free gum and Seven Stars.

His grip around your neck is the only thing keeping you on your feet, you’re sure if he were to let go you’d melt into the floor below. Father’s lips against yours are a siren, dulling all other senses, rendering you malleable to his will. Whatever his will may be, whatever it is that he wants from you— you’d let him have it anyway.

He breaks away, the kiss that’s felt like hours disappears far too soon. Your body jolts forward of its own volition, trying to connect yourself to him again. You’re sure you look desperate, but you’re too intoxicated to care.

“I serve only myself.”

Father lets go of your neck and you’re allowed the first deep intake of breath you’ve had since walking into the church. You swallow hard, looking back up to him. He scares you, he always has, but that fear draws you towards him.

Does a moth know what the flame will do to it? Does the moth know their fate?

You feel like crying, really crying, but all that comes out are a few frustrated tears. Father leans over you once more, eyes trailing the tear waxing over your cheek, “You’re a wretched little girl.”

Is that why they fly towards fire, because they like the burn?

** ** **

You step forward in line, it’s almost your turn. Mother first, she’s always thought of Father Aizawa as such a “charming young man''. The notion always made you scoff, in reality he’s only a few years younger than your parents.

Your dad is behind you, he’ll give him a friendly handshake after the service and remark how beautiful the homily was. Today, he spoke of the devil tempting Jesus. You hung on every word.

Mother steps aside and makes the sign of the cross, you’re next. A sheep guided by the dutiful shepherd, a lamb onto his slaughter.

Your chin tilts upwards, eyes locked onto your part-time captor. He only has you for a few seconds this time, but his attention is a hallway— every door is a pitfall. Aizawa’s gaze turns red when he looks upon you again— a bright, bloody, captivating red. You’ve convinced yourself it’s a trick of the light. But you see them in the dark too.

“The Body of Christ,” his voice is a welcome mat in front of an asylum, holding out the wafer and obscuring one painfully beautiful eye.

“Amen.” You know you’re part, but you can’t hear your own voice.

Father watches as your eyes close and your mouth opens, a quiet obedience, nothing at all out of the ordinary. Your fingers tingle with how tight you’re holding them together.

He places the Body to your awaiting tongue. It tastes like a harsh nothing that will stick to the back of your throat for the rest of mass. You take Christ in pieces, letting it start to melt into the roof of your mouth.

Shouta brushes your bottom lip before retracting. It’s subtle, an accident— the smallest touch of chilling skin. No one notices, the earth doesn’t stop on its axis for anyone else. You step aside and follow your Mother back to the wooden pews like nothing out of the ordinary stirs in your heart.

You feel Father’s eyes on the back of your skirt. They feel red.

“Your sweet girl here has offered a helping hand getting prepared for a youth retreat the church is hosting next week.” After mass, the stop to shake Father’s hand is inevitable, a pleasantry every parishioner makes time for before shuffling out for Sunday brunch.

He speaks over your quiet, “Good morning, Father Shouta,” right as your family turns to leave, almost as if he had been mulling over whether or not it was worth a mention. He regards them with a veiled casualty, never once looking at you.

Father’s face is kind when he wants it to be, laying a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades, it's a feeling of comfort you can’t help but lean into, “We’re discussing how to remain chaste in a sinful world.”

The word ‘chaste’ is pinched into your spine and despite yourself, you smile. A heavy heart has found home at the bottom of your stomach, but you can’t let on to the sick churning in your gut. Your parents gleam with pride for their daughter. A perfect example of a good Catholic girl.

“I’ll have her meet at my office this evening, is six okay?” His question sounds like your dowry, talking past you and asking for your parents permission.

Your dad shakes Father Shout’s hand once more, delighted at how his diligent parenting must be the reason you’ve found yourself in holy favor. Said ‘parenting’ is definitely to blame, but not in the way your dad assumes.

*** *** ***

The walk through church and into the sacristy is like a meditation in fear, every step begging you to turn back, to run home like a scared child. You tread steady, feet searing on hot coals until you’re met with the sound of Father Shouta just beyond the threshold.

“You’re late.” Something sinister fills Father’s quarters as soon as you open the door. It’s scary how offhandedly he can lie. You’re at least ten minutes early, the evening toll of church bells will signal the hour. He wants to see if you’ll stutter, if you’ll argue. You stay quiet, busying your hands with the hem of your skirt, fingers lifting it slightly before you remember who owns the eyes sitting across the room. They look golden from here, a honey you could drown in. You cough at the feeling of sugar in your lungs before collecting yourself and awaiting instruction.

Seemingly pleased with your docility, he smiles wide and crooked. It’s bound into a book he will whisper into you page by page. It’s written in a language only he knows.

Shouta motions you farther inside, leaning back in his seat. He corrects you when you move to sit in the chair on the other side of his desk, waiting with little patience as you settle against his side instead. Your posture is stiff being this close, being this alone.

His facial hair is trimmed neatly, small scars litter his face, the most pronounced a jagged trail under his right eye. From the dim evening light, you see a shadow of loose hairs make a pointed crown around his head.

“St. Teresa of Avila,” Father starts, tapping his fingers against a small stack of papers, “what do you know of her?”

You’re disarmed, the question seems so innocent-- not a note of ulterior motive detectible. Even so, your guard remains high. His intentions need no subtext.

“St. Teresa of Avila, the patron saint of headache sufferers,” you’re struggling to see the point, but Father prompts you to continue, “she was a Spanish nun, she wrote about a prayerful life,”

After another moment of measured silence, you grow even more tense, “Father Shouta, forgive me, I don’t understand,”

You’re hushed with a laugh, the small collection of papers placed in your hands. The first leaf is titled with large letters, “The Life of Teresa of Jesus.”

“I’d like you to read the section I’ve highlighted.”

You shake, thumbing through until you find a block of text traced in bright yellow. You scan its contents, but are quickly interrupted by Shouta’s next request.

“Out loud.”

There’s no escaping the toy box.

His stare is unwavering, giving you no room for objection. They’re not soft like honey anymore, Father Shouta’s eye’s are harsh, bloody gemstones.

You know better than to keep him waiting, adjusting in your half sat position on the side of his desk, you begin reading with hoarse inflection, “In his hands I saw a long golden spear, and at the end of the iron tip I seemed to see a point of fire. With this he seemed to pierce my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails.”

Wincing, the words sound like a stranger in your ears. After every sentence, Shouta’s fingertips inch closer to the end of your skirt, right above the knee. You’d be stoned for this kind of hemline at home, but with Father it seems to be exactly the sacred skin he wanted to see.

His hands move, unwavering, as you continue with the annotated paragraph, “When he drew it out, I thought he was drawing them out with it and he left me completely afire with a great love of God.” Fingers stop their gentle assault before adding pressure to your inner thigh, he peels apart your legs with a wordless prompting to keep going.

“The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.”

By the last several words, Father Shouta’s lips are centered in between your open thighs, you feel tears frozen in the duct. You want to pull away, to escape, but his lips hold something you’ve never been this close to.

“Piety is a virtue,” you can feel the hot breath against your most intimate planes of flesh, “but our God is one of pleasure too.”

His kiss feels like branding. An aimless, confused lamb seared with the mark of its owner.

You cry out, loud and broken, when his mouth meets the cotton covering your pussy. Shouta uses his pointer and middle finger to move the fabric away.

No one has ever seen these parts of you, kept locked away for your future husband until now, sitting in the heart of your family's church, writhing from even the slightest touch.Hips buck of their own accord, and you’re granted one last open-mouthed lave against your twitching cunt. His tongue peaks out slightly to catch your clit before pulling away.

You move as if possessed, falling to your knees in front of your Father. Your mouth opens, that same quiet obedience, and his finger brushes your lower lip again. “No one” you think, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of fingers wrapped into the back of your hair, “no one can serve two masters.”

“Body and soul, you’re mine.”

But there’s not a soul left in sight.

✞ 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞: All writing is chiwhorei’s original content, please do not repost or modify. Do no read my content as asmr. Do not recommend me on TikTok.©️

#aizawa smut #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa x reader smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader smut #heavenly bodies collab #chiwhorei.bnha #chiwhorei.fics #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: coercion #tw: sacrilegious #tw: corruption #tw: age gap #tw: darkfic

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

cherry knot | reader x ryujin

a/n: you may be thinking to yourself, ro! a gg fic?? how unlike you!! well, boy do i have news for you 😂 truthfully, i’ve always been toying with the idea of writing a lil somethin’ (esp for ryujin god i love her) so i thought why not! if this isn’t your cup of tea, that’s totally okay <3 those who do read, thank you so much for reading and i hope that ya like it hehe and let me know what you think of it! :D (thank you @dom--minnie for enabling me too ;)

cherry knot | reader x ryujin

🍒 Pairing: self insert, female reader x shin ryujin

🍒 Genre: fluff n’ a lil bit suggestive

🍒 Tags: friends to lovers, high school au (everyone depicted is 18+), all girls school au, high school crush!ryujin, shy!reader, confession of feelings, that good, good makin’ out, ryujin being flirty and smug as hell bc i love her, yeah this is just me gushing about shin ryujin, ro trying new things on the blog :)

🍒 Word count: 2.9k

🍒 CWs: mentions of food and eating reader included

The grass felt sticky and uncomfortable under your crossed legs, and when you swiped your hand against the skin, you could feel the indentation from the blades. Your knee-high socks felt itchy too; everything felt itchy. Even the cotton of your shirt felt like it was suffocating, and the bow tied around your neck which hung loosely should have hung even looser.

To distract yourself, you plucked up the blades of green and tied them into knots absentmindedly. It was easier to pay attention to your idle hands compared to paying attention to her.

Could she even tell that you were looking? Could she see out of the corner of her eye when she threw her cotton-candy pink hair behind her ear? Could she tell that you watched as she gulped down the lemonade and caught a glance at the peachy fuzz of her neck exposed by her collar?

Stop looking. Stop looking.

Your other friends tied up their hair in clips and with lazy hair ties to free their sweating necks from the sun. No matter the sweltering heat, it was always tradition for your picnic just before the summer vacation. One of them had brought a cake and each of the girls attacked it viciously with small forks and smeared bits of frosting on each other’s noses.

“Come here!! You’re next!!” They beamed while launching themselves in your direction to dot your nose with the white cream.

A flurry of high pitched giggles peeled out from each of you once another frosting victim had been dubbed. Your cheeks felt furiously hot knowing that she was looking; and that she was laughing along with the rest of them.

“Awwww cute.” She adored with a smile that turned her dimples into whiskers on her cheeks.

You quickly wiped it off with a handkerchief that settled into your damp hand.

She’s looking, she’s looking…

The other girls pranced around the checkered picnic blanket in their white socks--undoubtedly painting them with green that their mothers would scold them for later. Their careless steps made a mess of the food wrappers and canvas backpacks that held down the corners of the thin fabric. The joyous cheers of the girls seemed to harmonize with the song of the cicadas in the trees; both sounds reminded you of the coming of the summer and the humid weather that makes the air dense.

One of the girls brought out her phone and played loudly from it one of her favorite songs which she knew every word too, regardless of the fact that her tone was far from the singer’s.

You and your friends never cared much for how others would view you. Even at school when you would march through the hallways arm-and-arm, others would stare at the way that none of you batted an eye at those who would glare.

They were just jealous was all.

“Be careful!!” You found yourself scolding, “What if you fall running around like that?”

In response, your friends promptly stuck out their tongues in your general direction.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryujin coolly popped another cherry into her mouth from the bowl by her crossed legs. “If they fall, let them! It's funnier that way.”

She threw a wink right at you, which you almost didn’t catch because you had quickly averted your eyes to become much more interested in the tiny tea-cakes.

“You’re always worrying Y/n! Its summer!”

“I-I do not.”

Ryujin chuckled in that way that always made you feel like your heart was just about ready to leap out of your chest.

“Lighten up! Come on!”

Before you could process it all, your friend patted down the wrinkles in her skirt and threw off her shoes. She rose, and neared your corner of the blanket with hands outstretched.

“Stop worrying about things or if people are watching!” She scolded you with a cute and tiny pout, “Get up!” Ryujin wriggled her hands with emphasis to show you that you could take hold of them.

“W-what…?”

The other girls giggled on, hardly even noticing the two of you over their singing.

You grabbed onto her hands, already loathing how damp your own felt against hers out of your own nervousness. She still held onto you tightly, saying nothing of them and helped you to your feet. Immediately she brightened once you played along and started to swing your arms in tune with the song. Your friend lip synced to the rap part and you felt just about ready to swoon from how cool she looked saying the words with ease.

“Dance with me!! Don’t pay attention to people walking by or anything like that!”

Ryunjin led you by the hand to the patch of grass with little white and pink flowers laced into it. You really did try to pay attention to dancing, but everything else seemed to be distracting even when you tried hard enough. She brought your hand up higher to spin her, and when she twisted, everything seemed to happen in slow motion: the billow of her plaid shirt, her rosy-pink hair which swiped just at her shoulders, even the way that the sunset melted behind her into swirls of sunburst yellow and vibrant orange. It was like she was all a part of it.

“Your turn!” She said, twisting you too.

You didn’t realize that you would have been as dizzied by it as you were, but when you lost your footing, she was just as quick to help you with her hands carefully grasped onto your shoulders.

“You okay?” Ryujin asked, out of breath, but still genuine.

“I’m fine!”

Your knees wobbled with barely any strength to them, but you mustered every bit of confidence that you had to keep being this close to her. You surprised yourself when you reached back for her hands to continue swinging them between you.

The other girls collapsed back onto the blanket in a pile of shallow exhales and airy laughs that they exchanged between them.

“No more dancing, I-I can’t do any more…” One of them announced while leaning against the shoulder of another one of your friends.

“I forgot! I brought this!!” One of your friends with pigtail braids dove deeply into her backpack and pulled out nearly all of the contents before finding the small cube-case which was decorated with an obscene amount of keychains. “My camera! We have to take some pictures so that we can remember this!”

The other girls squealed in agreement and ganged up on her to fit into the frame of the white Polaroid camera that she had also splattered with stickers.

“Here, I wanna show you something.” Ryujin drew your attention back to the blanket where she settled back down with her own bag draped over her legs.

“What is it?”

“Ryujinnie! I wanna take your picture too! Your pink hair is so pretty…” One of your friends cooed with a sad downturn to her lips, “I hope that you never change it.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. We’ll see. My cousin has been saying that she wants to see what I would look like blonde these days.”

The small talk didn’t concern you too much, you were more concerned with what it was that your friend had to show you.

“I’m going on a trip with my cousins soon so we’ll see what happens.”

Your friend sighed, and skipped over the mess of the blanket to pull Ryujin by the wrist to the walkway a little farther off. “You’d look so cute over here!”

She pardoned her, and stumbled after the eager girl to let her take a Polaroid of her. Even from far away, you could still hear the two of them admire the picture with happy little expressions of “ah! I told you that it would look good!”

The two girls returned, and you began to worry if your friend even remembered what she had said in the first place.

What is it? What does she want to show me?

“Shoot!!” Another one of your friends huffed out while looking at her phone, “I forgot that I have to tutor the middle schoolers today!! I’m late!!”

The girls went to action in a mere matter of seconds sweeping up the picnic assortment and shoving the leftovers into their backpacks.

You helped them and tried to look over to your other friend who didn’t return your glances. Perhaps she really had forgotten.

You let your imagination run wild for just a few moments, although the more that you did, the more it all just seemed preposterous. Maybe it was a confession letter, maybe she had written for you one of those poems like she had liked to do, maybe she had rather wanted to talk to you about something...say something that you wanted to say back…

“I’m going to stick around.” Ryunjin said suddenly with her hands on her hips. “Y/n, you’re welcome to stay too if you want. We don’t exactly have to go home yet since the sun’s still up.”

Your friends looked to you for your answer, to which you stammered out an, “O-okay…” The best that you could.

“See you later!!” They called after with their shoes only half-slid onto their feet.

You waved them off, but the farther that they walked away, the more the realization started to hit you that you were alone with her. The sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and you calmed it trying to think about anything else but the fact that now her attention was truly undivided upon you.

“You said that you wanted to show me something?”

Your friend nodded, and patted the grass beside her for you to join her. She gathered up the small bundle of cherries left behind and positioned them into her lap.

“I learned this trick a little bit ago and I wanted to show you!”

“A trick?”

She nodded, and plucked from one of the crimson berries a stem which she put directly into her mouth.

“What are you doing?!” On the surface, it didn’t seem like the most sanitary thing to do.

Ryunjin stifled a laugh and lightly hit you on the arm to chastise you. “Just wait a minute!”

You watched in your confusion as her face contorted a little, and her eyebrows twisted like she was thinking. Her cheeks puffed a little too, and you could tell that she was doing something with it in her mouth--it was only then when you realized that you had been intensely observing her mouth.

In your embarrassment you threw your eyes in the other direction, but it was no use one you heard her start to giggle at how flustered you had become.

“It’s okay, you’re supposed to look.” She assured you.

“What-what is it?”

“Annnnd done!” Your friend proclaimed proudly and you struggled to meet her again without feeling like your whole face and the tips of your ears were burning up.

Right on the pink of her tongue she had tied the stem into a tiny knot which she displayed proudly.

“You...did that with your tongue?”

“Mm-hm!”

Your hands reduced back to their clammy state, and they found the grass between your own folded legs to find something to do.

“That's...that’s pretty cool…”

“I know right?!”

Back came your friend's little dimples, and this time your chest started to feel like it was swelling with heat.

Stop looking, stop looking…

“I can teach you how to do it some day if you’d like.” Ryujin’s tone dropped lower, and more serious in the way that some had thought to be intimidating. To you, there was nothing more that could make you feel the beat of your own heart more obviously.

“Teach me? How??”

The question felt like a butterfly in your lips, fluttering and ticklish, light and uncertain. You met her eyes the best you could; even though you knew that there was nothing about her that you didn’t already know, or that was threatening.

Your friend tilted her head, inspecting you and the way that you could barely keep your glance away from her lips--stained just a little red from the cherries--then smiled.

“W-what? What is it? Why are you smiling?”

She sighed, and craned forward on one of her hands in the grass, bridging the distance between the two of you to caress down the side of your face, all the way to your jaw with the back of her fingers.

“You’re just too cute.”

“Hm?” Your chest threw itself up and down, and you could thinly feel the breath that tried to fill your lungs when she was this close.

“I just can’t handle it any more.”

“Me?”

Ryunjin nodded, softening her eyes until they were nearly closed, and rid the two of you of all space, leaning over just so you could feel the weight of her chest nearly pressing into yours. At first, she placed the lightest of kisses into you, so light that it barely brushed against your lips, but merely imprinted upon them. She leaned back, leaving you with the ghost of a feeling of her upon you. It felt a bit unfair how fleeting it was, and how she looked at you like that: smug as ever, but as blissful as she always was.

Your breaths tried to make sense of it all, if it had just happened, and what to think of it. As quick as it was, all you could want was to feel it again.

“Ryu--”

She cradled both sides of your face in hers, leaning in with more fervor and parting your lips with hers, leaving you to squeak from the sudden movement. You couldn’t figure out how to kiss back at first, or if you should hold her too. Your head felt like it was spinning in circles from your disbelief when you could taste the tiny tang of the sweet and sour cherries which lingered on her lips. She rubbed her thumbs into your cheeks, and angled you better to let her growing smile paint your own mouth from corner to corner.

At last, you were able to find a rhythm which suited you, and you kissed her right back. She giggled at your stroke of confidence and the vibrations made your whole body tingle. Your feet had surely fallen asleep where you had folded them beside you, but the numb feeling of them dissolved once her hands fell to your shoulder where she held to you tightly. The pressure from the tips of her fingers made you shiver, and you too smoothed down the pink shine of her hair.

The warm and ticklish feeling of her tongue grazed your lower lip where she changed her approach and deepened her kiss. The heat of tongues finally met in the middle testing and learning more of the other the closer that you became, and tiny airy gasps got stuck between both of your curiosity. In your lap, her hands found yours and they laced together and held tight; each digit wrapping the other and becoming one with the eagerness of her thumb rubbing little circles into the squishy parts of your hand.

After the heat of your passion started to melt, you found yourself hiding your giddy laughter the best you could once she started to peck at your lips over and over until you felt like she had kissed you so close to the brim that you would overflow.

“I said that you’re cute and I mean it!” She snuck the phrase in between a couple more kisses, eliciting you to fold up in your giddy embarrassment from the compliment.

Ryunjin pulled away, and popped another cherry into her mouth from the bundle, then threw her arms around your shoulders. You simply let your hands rest in her lap covered by the plaid of her skirt; shaking from the release of the endorphins and the adrenaline.

“Ryujin...I wanted to tell you that I’ve had a crush on you for a...really long time…” You shied, but she brought your chin back to look at her directly.

“Good. Me too.”

You couldn’t even process the combination of her words for them to make sense. White noise filled your ears, even though it should have been obvious from the way that she had kissed you like that.

“Oh! Here. I wanted to give this to you too. Something to remember me by.”

She reached for her bag, and pulled out a white-out pen from the front pocket. The Polaroid had faded into its full color, and she focused with her tongue peeking from her mouth as she wrote the message:

see you soon <3

- ryujinnie

Over her head in the picture, she doodled a few hearts, then she blew on the ink to dry it.

“For you!”

You took the picture with your hands still thoroughly shaking, and all you could utter was a “thanks” while you took in your friend looking as gorgeous as she always was. You knew then that you would treasure the image forever, and the day which it was taken.

“Who knows,” Ryujin started, and let her head fall to your shoulder where she nuzzled in, “This might be the last that you’ll see of my pink hair too.”

You turned the picture over, already sensing how it made your heart feel like it was aching sticky and sweet, just like the cherries.

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

if you’re still taking requests for Bucky, can you do one from this quote if it sparks any inspiration: ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’

A/N: please, this is so soft 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped soft lips as Bucky laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. There was almost no sound in the room besides the rhythmic ticking of the aging clock on the wall, combined with the sounds wafting in from the open window, and the almost non-existent humming of his vibranium appendage. He reached his hand up to his chest to ground himself by touching the dog tags that had been his for way too many years now. A temporary moment of panic set into his bones when he realized there was nothing there, but revelation quickly dawned on him as he remembered that they were currently with you. The last he’d seen them, you were wearing them, the metallic silver tags safely nestled under the soft fabric of your t-shirt.

When he’d given them to you, a sign of his desire to call you his, among other things, he never actually expected that you’d wear them. The first time he’d spied you wearing them, along a casual outfit consisting of jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers, he’d almost short circuited. There was something about comforting knowing they were safe and sound in your possession now. They were yours now too - just like he was.

A gentle tugging lifted the corners of his mouth into the semblance of a smile. How foreign it still felt sometimes, the gentle feeling of blossoming happiness and knowing he was loved. Loved. What a strange and odd concept that was. He couldn’t remember the last another soul had told him they loved him besides in the most platonic sense. But the first time you’d whispered those words to him, so effortlessly, so easily, I love you, his whole world came to a screeching halt and he was sent into a wild spiral that left him speechless. Bucky hadn’t reciprocated your words then; but it wasn’t long after that he did. It had been a half shout, half declaration as you just grinned at him, pulling him against your lips and only letting him go when you were both breathless and dizzy.

He relaxed at the thought, settling against the pillow as he reminded himself to swim in happy memories, rather than drown in the ghosts of the past.

His phone vibrated against the glass top of the coffee table as it startled him out of his stupor, causing him to almost roll off the couch in surprise. He scrambled to grab the phone, and relaxed when he saw your name on the screen. Straightening himself up, he cleared his throat before answering, “hi sweetheart.”

“Bucky!” your excited voice on the other end of the line made his heart relax as he just imagined you bouncing around your small floral shop, making sure everything was perfect, “it’s about time you answered, old man. I’ve called you like three times! Did I disturb your afternoon nap, Barnes?”

“Hey, watch who you’re calling an old man,” he snorted as he stood up and stretched, surprised by how easily you were able to read him, “I got decades on you, kid, respect your elders.”

“Respect me when I’m right,” you grinned as he laughed lightly. How easily everything seemed to flow between the two of you; he’d never thought he could have anything like this again. Even once he’d left Wakanda and life slowly went back to a semblance of normality after the Blip, he still had a hard time trusting people; perhaps, more than anything else, he didn’t trust himself.

While he knew he was himself again, Bucky, and not the Winter Soldier, he still was never quite convinced that he wouldn’t ever go back. For so long he had been nothing but a killer, it was hard to believe that he could ever be fully himself again. So he’d closed himself off, steeled himself, despite the constant reassurance from the people around him that it was okay to let others in. He couldn’t trust himself - after so long...how could he? How was he just supposed to be able to pick the pieces and just be James again?

But he was learning, over time, slowly, bit by bit, that it was okay to let people in, okay to feel, and be okay and also not be okay. Sure, some days were hard, but the good days were good. And they were getting to become more and more frequent.

“Bucky? Hello?” you called his name from the other line, trying to get him to snap back into attention, “James? James Buchanan Barnes?”

“S-sorry,” his voice was soft and gentle for a moment, “I...yeah.”

“Yeah,” you teased softly, “zoning out again huh, my love? I know how you get. What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

“Nothing much,” he admitted, shrugging to himself despite the fact that you weren’t able to see him, “when are you off?”

“Whenever I want to be,” you reminded him, “I’m the boss now, remember? Why do you ask? Got some grand plans for us?”

“Nah,” he confessed, “just want to come and see you. Is it okay if I stop in? I’d come and bring you some flowers...but that would seem a little...on the nose.”

“Ahh, look at you,” he could practically hear you grinning, “very clever, aren’t you? Come and see me - it’s been slow so I might as well close up when you get here. Maybe we can go for a walk and get dinner?”

“Sounds great,” he agreed softly, “see you soon.”

“See you soon, Bucky.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

While you waited for Bucky to arrive, a brilliant idea popped into your head. You quickly grabbed a vase and started to gather some of the flowers that reminded you of him. It wasn’t long before you had a variety of them, neatly arranged and topped off with a bow, ready and waiting for him. He walked into your small shop, ready to announce himself but quickly found that he didn’t have to.You were perched up on the counter, swinging your legs back and forth as you tilted your head to the side and studied him with a small smile. He was dressed casually today, sporting a dark blue henley and a pair of well fitting jeans. His arm, intricate and beautifully designed golden and black vibranium, wasn’t on full display, nor was it completely hidden. Progress; a step in the right direction, albeit small. He’d get there when he’d get there and if that took another five years or fifty, you planned on being there for him.

“Hi James,” you popped off the counter and met him halfway, letting him wrap you up and envelope you in his warm, tight grasp. His arms, his body, was your favorite place to be. You never felt more safe and secure than when you were wrapped up in him, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” he chuckled as you just nodded, pouting lightly as he couldn’t help but kiss you softly, “it’s only been a few hours since we’ve seen each other.”

“I know,” you ran a hand through his dark hair, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t miss you, does it?”

“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed as you took his hand and pulled him over to the counter. Bucky dramatically rolled his eyes as he trailed after you. Your hand looked so small in his hand; delicate skin contrasted against harsh callouses as you gave him a squeeze of reassurance. Whatever hesitation or tension was left in his body seeped, replaced by a feeling of saccharine bliss, “what are you up to?”

“You always think I’m up to something,” standing in front of the flowers, you paused, studying his features before reaching up to tenderly cradle his face in your hands. Bucky, resilient and strong, turned into a puddle of mush and practical whimpers as you traced a delicate fingertip across his features, “perhaps this time you’re right.”

“Tell me then,” he turned his face, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm as you used your free hand to reach behind you and push the vase to your side so he could see the ornate display. Blue eyes narrowed, highlighting the wary crease in his brow before they widened, softening all the way through. His hand slinked down to your waist, a light squeeze followed as he shuffled to the side and studied the flowers. Bright yellows and oranges, brilliant crimsons and pinks, and mellow pastels were suddenly under his intense scrutiny as he took in the sight of the blossoms, “w-what are these?”

“And here I was, thinking you were smart,” standing behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, delicately and slowly at first so you wouldn’t startle him. His frame stiffened for a mere moment before he relaxed, the weight of your head on his back a welcome burden he was happy to bear, “these are called flowers.”

“Very funny,” you could feel the laugh vibrate through his chest as a hand, one colder and more metallic than normal, but still all him, settled on your own. Pressing a line of soft kisses to his shoulders, you listened to the steady beating of his heart, “what’s the occasion?”

“There is none,” you insisted, “I just thought you would enjoy them. Look at the colors and blossoms, they all reminded me of you. So brilliant and warm and bright and lovely - just like you, Bucky.”

A few beats of silence met your ears as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, a million thoughts swirling around his mind. Before you could speak or say anything else, he turned around in your arms so he was facing you. He gestured between you and the flowers for a few moments, finding himself at a loss for words, “me?”

“Yes,” you promised him, “for you. Do you like them?”

“I love them,” he reassured you, an easy warmth settling over you, “back in the day I would have been doing this for you…”

‘You’ve gotten me flowers plenty of times,” you laughed, a sound that had easily become his favorite thing in almost no time, “besides, you deserve some nice things too.”

“I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s a new one,” you teased as he jokingly groaned, “ I jest! I’ve noticed you’ve been a little more quiet and stoic lately...I didn’t even know that was possible for you. What’s been on your mind, my love?”

“There’s this quote that came into mind...I heard it somewhere, but I can’t remember from what or who,” he mused as he rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, “it’s something along the lines of ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’ I feel like...I can do that with you - like I can be myself and you’re not judging me, even though you know who I am.”

“Bucky - James - I know who you are,” it was surprising you didn’t melt into a puddle then and there, melting into nothingness at his feet. You leaned in, looking at his eyes for a few moments before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. You broke apart slowly, reluctantly before resting your forehead against his, “I know exactly you who are. And I love you for it - a good man, friend, partner, and so many other things. You are good, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or thinks. Fuck them - the people that know you know who you really are.”

“Even after…”

“Even after everything that’s happened,” you promised, “you are safe with me. I’m not going to suddenly turn my back on you and walk away. I love you, Bucky. You have me, now and forever, and I’ve got you, always. That’s not going to change. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you could feel him smiling against your lips as he breathed you in and let you overwhelm his senses, “I know that.”

“Good,” you smiled as you reached for his hand, “let’s go to get dinner. I’m starving.”

“Don’t you need to close up?”

“Nah,” you winked at him, “I closed up as soon as we got off the phone earlier so we would have interruptions. C’mon Buck, I’m going to take you for a night on the town! What do you say?”

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed, “there’s just one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“This,” he pulled you into his arms and kissed you deeply as your body melded into his, “I love you too.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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