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#Gonna get my whole body tattooed with just these images
oh-koenig-my-koenig · 2 months
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(cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw, mdni, sloppy oral, biting/marking, rough sex. bad german pickup lines)
continuing the part before: visiting his humble abode
Hanging off König’s shoulder.
There honestly isn’t a better place to be, except for maybe right under him. My fingers dig into his back, holding onto him, even though I am secure on his shoulder. He carries me up the stairs easily, I don’t even hear him panting a little harder. And the view on his ass is delicious. I want to pinch it. Or smack it.
My intrusive thoughts win, I stretch down and the palm of my hand collides with his behind, even making a little sound, while I giggle.
“Stop it.” Another spank onto my butt, his hand staying there this time. “It was my plan to show you the whole house first, and then take you to my bedroom…”, he grumbles, but amusement comes through in his voice. “But I should’ve known that you and your bratty ass are not gonna adhere to such an arrangement.” He squeezes my asscheek, his fingers lingering a bit longer, and even that sends a shiver down my spine.
“I just wanted to know if the king had a king-sized bed, I swear.”, I joke, stifling back a laugh.
“Aha.”, he drawls skeptically. “And that’s all?”
“Yep.”, I answer, knowing full well that I know and he knows, that that is in fact not all.
It’s just a few steps from the top of the stairs to the bedroom, when I hear the click of a door and then the light switch. He enters the room and I crane my neck, all nosily, trying to look around. The bedframe, sturdy dark wood, and some bedsheets is all I see before he lifts me from his shoulder again.
“Well, your wish is my command, Prinzesserl.”, he says, the last word sounding a lot like ‘princess’. “I do indeed have a king-sized bed.”
He sets me down on the mattress, lying me down more carefully than I would have liked, to be honest. I look up – and I’m staring back at myself, strewn on the soft sheets. My mouth falls open.
“You have a mirror on your ceiling?”, I ask incredulously. It’s an unnecessary question because – well, I can see that he does have a fucking mirror on the ceiling.
“I do.” He smiles, looking up as well. “You can cover it up, if you don’t wanna watch yourself sleep, but I thought it would be fun for other horizontal activities that don’t involve any actual sleep.”
My breath halts in my throat as I think about his insinuation and unholy images flood my mind. Me riding him, only held up by his arms, while he makes me look up, his hand around my throat. His body strewn over mine, the long strands of his hair cascading down his tattooed back, his huge stature moving with his thrusts. Him sitting back on his knees, spreading my legs wide, so I can see how he’s pounding into me in the mirror above.
“What, nothing to say now, Kleine?” His deep soft voice pulls me out of my little daydream, smirking down at me. And I just shake my head. “Didn’t think I would ever see you speechless.”, he continues teasing me.
I sit back up, looking up at him, which has me craning my head back with the way he is towering over me. “I’m not, look, full sentences are coming out my mouth.”
He smirks at me. “I can see that.” He comes a bit closer still, his hand gripping my chin softly, his thumb strokes over my lower lip, pulling it down a little bit. “So, it’s not just good for mouthing off at me, huh?”
Instead of an answer, my tongue darts out, licking the pad of his thumb. My mouth closing around it, softly sucking once, releasing the digit with a pop. “No.” All the messages I sent him this morning about wanting to suck his dick flood the forefront of my mind.
His gaze darkens, while the smirk widens. For a moment, it seems like we’re suspended in time, then we move even faster. He pulls off his shirt and I do the same, also getting rid of my bra. He helps me with my pants, and when they’re finally on the floor, his hand moves to his belt, opening it, but I softly coax them away, taking over, while I scramble to sit on my legs until I am kneeling in front of him.
Opening the button, lowering the zipper. And instead of the boxershorts I expected, like the ones I saw on the photos he sent this morning – I’m greeted by his hard dick.
Damn. He isn’t wearing any underwear.
I look up at him, being met with a cocky grin.
“Allzeit bereit.”, he comments.
“What?” I can’t hide my confusion.
“’Be prepared’, the scout motto, you know.”, he explains, like that is some common knowledge.
“Uh-huh? So, you’re always prepared for a blowjob?”, I ask him, tauntingly, pulling up one eyebrow. My hands still rest at his zipper, my fingers twitching to finally touch him.
“Well, no, but after all the talking about how you would take me in your mouth this morning...”, he answers, the cockiness not faltering.
“Then why are we still talking about the scout motto, big guy?”, I ask him, a little challenge in my voice.
His reaction is a little sway forward, until the tip rests against my mouth. “Are we?”, he asks, the insinuation sending a shiver down my spine.
His piercing drags across my lower lip and my tongue darts out to lick it. The groan dropping from his throat, the low gravelly sound, makes me do it again. Teasing his tip, until his hips are rutting forward on their own and I drop my jaw, slowly trying to fit more of him into my mouth. I close my lips around his thickness, softly sucking on him.
Pulling back again. Gripping the base of his cock with my hand as I press kisses on it, softer than he probably would have liked. He’s squirming a little bit under my touches, his fingers coasting through my hair, moving it out of my face.
I look up at him meeting his eyes, continuing the teasing touches, until he pushes himself inside my hot wet mouth again.
“Look up.”, he says, pointing at the ceiling. And my eyes turn up further, my neck straining back.
The picture mirrored back to me is pornographic, to say the least.
We’re both looking up at the ceiling, my face turned up, my back and ass fully on display, my legs tucked under it, with the way I’m sitting in front of him. His hand at the back of my neck.
König’s broad chest is taking up so much space, even as he’s leaning back to get a good look at me. The happy trail leading down. My hand lying there, feeling the soft tufts of hair underneath my fingertips.
Our bodies connected with my mouth around his dick.
I suck on him, licking the underside of his shaft, while still looking up, and I can see how his eyes roll back, his pupils disappear, only the whites of his eyes shining.
I move my hand down to his base, cupping his balls, softly tugging. The choked moan from his lips only spurs me on. He grabs me by the back of my head, softly moving me to the rhythm of his hips.
“You teased me all day about using your mouth on me, so I’m really enjoying this right now.”, he whispers, pushing his dick deeper, and I drop my jaw and stick out my tongue to fit more of him.
He hits the back of my throat which has me gag around him while he’s still not nearly fitting into my mouth, not even close. The next push of his dick is even deeper, and my eyes turn up, and I feel like I’m going cross-eyed. I move up and down, as far as I can, blowing him like this. It gets sloppy, messy, spit dripping from my lips. Dropping down onto my tits and tummy.
Tears form in the corners of my eyes, a drop running over my cheek. His hand moves from the back of my head to my face, his thumb stroking over it. “So fucking pretty.”, he coos. He pulls back and I take a deep breath, the sound filling the room instead of my gagging.
But I don’t stop. I use my saliva that’s now coating part of his length to jerk him off, moving my hand down, while I let my tongue play with the piercing on his tip again. Tasting hints of salty precum, as I look up at him. Holding eyecontact while I drag my tongue over it, slowly.
“Oh fuck.”, he almost growls, and the sound sends a zap of pleasure right to my core, making me squirm against the sheets. I feel the urge to touch myself, my hand snaking down between my thighs.
He sees that and tuts, the clicks of his tongue filling the room. “So needy.”, he mutters softly, his hips rutting forward, pushing past my lips again. Fucking into my mouth, as my fingertips reach my clothed pussy, pressing onto my sensitive clit.
I moan around his dick, letting him take the lead, his fingers tangled in my hair, while I touch myself, my hips moving with my desperate strokes. Getting sloppier again.
All of a sudden, he pulls himself out of me. “Fuck, not yet.”, he says, seeming a bit worked up. Crouching down and capturing my lips into a searing kiss, as he positions me against his sheets, continuing the kisses down my body.
I can see his dick, hanging between his legs, hard and heavy, glistening wet with my spit, before he kneels in front of me. His fingers hook under the fabric of my panties, pulling them off. They cling onto me, with how damp they are.
“So wet, hm? Did it turn you on to suck me off?”, he whispers, seeing the wetness glistening between my thighs, as he leans down, coasting with his lips over my pussy.
“Yes, fuck.”, I breathe, trying to squirm against his face, but he is just out of reach. He chuckles when I whine, desperate for him to finally put his mouth onto me. And he does, pressing kisses to my inner thighs, his stubble scratching over the sensitive skin.
Close, so close, but not quite where I want him.
He sucks on the soft skin, leaving little red marks, his left hand toying with my pussy. My hips move of their own volition and I can’t believe how the almost-touches make me even more turned on. “Please, I need-“, I start.
I can’t finish the sentence because his teeth sink into my soft flesh, while his fingers slip into me, the sensations almost making me lose my mind. He pushes deeper inside me, and I feel his canines press into the sensitive skin. Fuck, this is driving me crazy.
I lift my head to look at what he’s doing, and our eyes meet. He pulls back, pressing a kiss to the spot he just bit into, licking over it. His fingers still fucking me softly.
“Don’t stop.”, I plead.
The corners of his mouth turn up into a knowing smirk while he places more kisses, slowly inching in on my pussy, leaving another little hickey on my inner thigh. He pulls the digits out and puts his mouth right over it.
The slow, deliberate touches are gone. In a frenzy, he’s losing himself in my pussy, licking, sucking, nudging his nose against my clit. I move with him, dragging myself over his lips, searching for more friction, and the sounds that drop from my mouth are almost obscene.
My head drops back and I have the whole scene mirrored back to me from above. The strands of his long dark hair cascading down. His back tattoo, the black ink on his taut muscles, moving with him, as he eats me out.
How he grips my thighs, his hands digging into the supple swells. Spreading me wide for him.
He looks up at me, seeing the awe on my face, hearing the sounds I’m making, which makes him hum against me. Diving in again. His tongue licks into me, fucking me, and my back arches off the sheets, my hands clutching them. Close, so close to-
Ding-dong!
We’re interrupted by the bell.
He lifts his head, seeming a little drunk on pussy, judging by the drowsy look on his face. “Fuck, that’s the delivery.”, he stammers and the back of his hand wipes over his mouth.
“What delivery?”, I ask, confused and hazy with pleasure, propping my head up from the sheets.
“Food.”, he explains, and like on cue, my stomach grumbles.
He pulls away from me, looking around, picking up random pieces of clothing. He scrambles to put a shirt and shorts on while I can’t help but laugh because of the ridiculousness of the situation. “Thats on you, Mädl, for messing with my meticulously planned evening, with your siren call.”, he grumbles, which only makes me laugh harder.
He fits his dick into his pants, the erection tenting up the front, and he grumpily pulls his shirt down further, even though that doesn’t really help either with hiding it. “Fuck it.”, he cusses and heads out the room, cursing some more in German.
I shake my head, grinning like a crazy person.
I also look for some clothes, but I’m not quite bold enough to reach for any of his shirts, putting on my own and then my panties, following him down the stairs.
“Ooh, you remembered my favourite spot!”, I say when I see the huge bag with the familiar logo on it in his hands.
He grins at me, and my god, a man has never looked that good in a Cannibal Corpse shirt and some old Adidas shorts that are almost too tight for his burly thighs. He pushes his hair to the side, pulling it out of the t-shirt, because some of it got caught in there when he hurriedly put it on. “Of course. Should I put it in the kitchen oooor…?”, he asks.
“Can we eat now? I’m actually a little hungry, I didn’t have a big lunch.”, I tell him hesitatingly. Swaying from one bare foot to the other, looking down at them. Unsure, because I mean, we were in the middle of-
But he pushes my doubts away in just a moment, putting his arm around me and pressing a tiny kiss onto the top of my head. “Sure, can’t have you go hungry, hm?” and the relief lets my shoulders drop down, even if my worries were a bit stupid to begin with.
“You want to eat at the bar?”, he suggests then, his eyebrows raised as he grins at me.
“Wha- You have a bar in this house?”, I clarify.
He nods. “Yeah, like a whole room with- Come on. I’ll just show you.” He takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine, as he pulls me with him, the bag full of take-away food in the other one. Way too much for two people.
When I follow him downstairs, it first dawns on me that we never really held hands before. It seems so simple, so normal – so natural, that I don’t even register it at first. I smile to myself, gripping his hand tighter, trying to keep up with his steps.
I have to say, the house is meticulously upkept, there’s yet a spot I have to see untidy or dusty. Which is… kind of amazing, especially considering that he only stays here on his leave. The same goes for his cellar that is more like another floor, where we halt in front of two doors. He gestures in the direction of the right one, while actually stepping towards the one on the left. “That’s my home gym and that’s the bar.”, he says.
“You… also… have a gym?”, I ask, a bit incredulous. Man, this house is bigger than I thought, when I first saw it from the outside.
“Yeah, I mean I train almost every day. Uh, holding up my shape doesn’t get easier with age.”, he explains, with a lopsided smile. Of course he works out. I’ve seen his body and my god. Sure, he has his little tummy – that I adore –, but his strength clearly comes from a lot of hard training. It makes sense that he also keeps this up when on leave.
“Can I take a look?”, I ask, being my nosy self.
He shrugs, but smiles. “Sure.”
For a moment, I regret asking that, because I have to let his hand go. I sigh and pop my head in the door. Nice standard equipment, not a lot of machines. A treadmill, and a lot of weights, barbells and dumbbells. It looks any other gym would, right down to the mirrors spanning the whole wall (he seems to like those); you would have never guessed it was a private one in a cellar.
The star of the show is definitely the little bar next door. I enter the room right after him, chuckling a bit to myself when I see him ducking his head to fit through doorframe – even in his own home.
A worn-out leather couch to the left. The dark grey painted wall behind it is littered with plaques like you would find in a pub.
A pool table at the right side of the room, and then the mahogany bar on the back wall right in the middle. Bottles of liquor in rows, glasses in all shapes and sizes. When he flicks the light switch behind the bar, all of it lights up, in a warm orange hue.
Another fridge, with a glass door, though it’s half empty.
Three bar stools lined up neatly in front of the bar and I take a seat on one of them, feeling the leather top against my bare ass and thighs, with how my t-shirt rides up.
He sets the take-away bag down on the counter, getting two plates from one of the lower cabinets and two forks. Then he starts unpacking, producing container after container until I think there might be more people joining us, with how much he ordered.
“Take whatever you want, I’ll eat the rest.”, he tells me, waiting for me to actually do that.
“Is uh-“, I start, but he interrupts me with a smile. “Everything’s vegetarian, Liebes.”, he nods. “I checked. Twice.”
My face lights up and I look at the containers, inspect the different dishes and put a little bit of everything on my plate. With a double portion of the little spring rolls I like so much. He waits until I’m done getting my plate together and then just dumps one of the meals onto his.
I watch him eat, as he’s leaning against the counter, shoveling huge amounts of food in his mouth, while being very meticulous and methodical about it. Eating efficiently. This man eats to sustain, not to enjoy. There are parts of him, that I think are shaped by his profession, and this seems to be one of them.
I hide the half-smile that stalks onto my face as I see him standing there behind the bar, casually wolfing down the first plate of food, then a second one. I rope him into a conversation of how he put the room together while we have dinner like this. My feet dangle above the ground as I eat spoonsful of delicious Asian take-away, very content with sitting here like this. With him.
He looks back at the wall behind him, like an idea just came to his mind, and then back at me. I pull up one of my eyebrows, still munching on a spring roll.
“You want a cocktail?”, he asks me, grinning.
“Uh, sure, you know how to make one?”, I return the question.
“Äh, ja-ah! If I wasn’t a soldier, I would’ve become a bartender, for sure.”, he jokingly states, winking at me, and I almost melt into the floor. “I can make a decent enough drink.”, he then clarifies, the spark in his eyes still a little mischievous. “So, what do you want then? A moscow mule? Or a dirty martini?" He pauses for dramatic effect. "Or an orgasm?" He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I can't help but laugh, even though I roll my eyes at him.
"Brute.”, I take a jab at him. “My favourite is actually a gin fizz.", I say, then.
"Really? I did not see that coming.", he comments.
"Why?"
"I don't know, maybe I expected something sweet tasting. Like you." His gaze darkens, while he is still grinning at me. A sudden hunger glints in his eyes while he looks at me, like he's thinking about it. How he ate me out when we got so rudely interrupted, by the delivery – even though it was delicious.
A tingle runs up my spine, just from the way he's looking at me. I suppress a shiver, because the feeling doesn't dissipate when his eyes drop away, looking around the bar.
"Hmm, I think I have a fresh lemon here somewhere.", he mutters to himself.
I prop my cheek on my arm, that’s leaning on the bar, and watch him fix me the drink.
He takes a crystal tumbler from the shelves and inspects some of the bottles, until he decides on one. I don't know the brand, but it certainly looks fancy. Ice cubes into the shaker, simple sirup and gin following shortly.
He’s almost dancing behind the bar counter, with the way he’s getting the ingredients, preparing this rather simple drink.
He cuts the lemon in half and just squeezes it, the juice dripping down into the shaker. Another person might have used a citrus-press. Not him though.
His hair whipping back and forth as he turns around, putting the top on the shaker and hitting the top once. A little spank that I feel…somewhere else… for reasons.
He starts to shake the cocktail, and it’s ridiculous how small the shaker is in his huge hands, he doesn’t even need both to hold it shut. Watching my reaction as he flips and spins it between his fingers, the ridiculous movements pulling laughs from me. Repeating the ones that do. The huge burly man, being the scary looking dude he is, while at the same time not being scary at all. At least not to me. When he’s here with me, like this.
He pours the drink over the ice cubes and fills the rest of the glass with soda, just like the recipe calls for. Taking the little zest of lemon he saved, squeezing it once and then putting it in.
König takes a sip, trying it. ‘Not bad’ is what the grimace on his face tells me before he hands me the tumbler and I take a drink. The bitter notes of gin and the sour sting of lemon juice hit my tongue.
“Nice drink, barkeep.”, I say, taking another sip and put the drink down in front of him. He drinks as well, downing at least half with one single gulp.
“Sind Sie eigentlich öfter hier?”, he asks me, with a sultry smile, not seeming serious at all.
“What does that mean? Funny man, I don’t speak your language.”, I tell him.
He laughs. “It’s flirtingly asking somebody if they come here often. It became a running gag in German as a bad pickup line.”
"Really? And that works?", I ask, skeptically pulling an eyebrow up.
He shrugs, leans forward, against the bar, coming closer and closer, until his face is just inches from mine. "No, it doesn't, but if I see a beautiful woman, I have to try it nonetheless.", he almost purrs. His fucking voice deeper than I ever heard it before. With the way he's looking at me, pure unadulterated lust in his eyes, he pulls me in.
His fingers softly stroke over the inside of my arm, until the thumb reaches my pulsepoint, the pad pressing into it lightly – just once – before he pulls it closer and presses a soft kiss to the sensitive skin. His eyes don’t break away from mine for even a moment.
My mouth falls open. My breath is getting caught in my throat and I can feel a pang of need between my thighs, the tingling feeling trickling up my spine.
He straightens back up again, just a little bit, beaming at me with a cocky grin. "See, and that works every time.", he taunts me.
"Well, I'll say.", I answer, still a little out of breath, which makes him laugh, but also come closer again.
"Yeah?", he asks softly. "You think, I can get a kiss from the beautiful woman at the bar like this?"
I nod, lifting myself off the barstool, to meet his lips in a kiss. “Maybe also a second kiss.”, I say, deepening it. My tongue strokes against his, teasing, and tasting the gin on his breath.
"Will the barkeeper also take the beautiful woman to his king size bed?", I ask him, which might be considered bold, if it was indeed a beautiful woman propositioning the barkeeper at the bar who had been flirting with her all evening. But it's just König and me, sitting here together in comfy clothes after we shared a meal. And I'm eager to finish what we started before.
"Hmmm, they are the only two left in the bar, so the barkeeper might just close it up to bend the beautiful woman over the bar and take her right here and now.", he spins my little story further.
"Well, that would be entirely possible, if they had some protection.", I retort, but the imagination alone is making me hot.
A little square foil packet suddenly appears in his hand, almost like out of thin air – more likely from his pocket. "Didn't tell you, I'm not only a barkeeper, but also a magician?", he says, a grin breaking through his expression, even if he tries to stay serious.
I have to laugh so hard I almost fall off the barstool, with the way my body is shaking from laughter ripping through me.
This man. It's quite unfair, to pair his dry wit with those good looks. I mean, it might not be to everybody's taste, but in my book tall, dark and brooding always works – though in his case, the notion of that much rather stems from the way he looks, not the way he is – and him being hilarious like this, especially when I don’t see it coming, definitely has me on my tiptoes.
“A man of many talents, I see.”, I tease him.
“Don’t you know it.”, he says, capturing my smile in a kiss again, barely breaking it to join me on my side of the bar.
I'm practically bent over the bar already, with the way my ass barely touches the seat and I was leaning over to kiss him, trying to get as close to him as possible. He just has to lift my hips a little bit, until I'm truly strewn over the smooth wooden surface.
He doesn't hesitate to pull my panties down, the wet fabric clinging onto me. It doesn’t take much, I’m so wound tight already, because we got interrupted. His fingers coast over the sensitive skin, and I squirm against his touch, holding onto the bar.
"Please, just- do me.", I beg, not minding how desperate that makes me sound.
"Your wish is my command.", he repeats his little quip from earlier this evening. He pulls the shorts down just low enough to take his dick out, the length resting against my ass, and I can't resist moving my hips a little bit, grinding back into him.
"Stop it.", he grumbles, spanking my buttcheek once, with the other hand. "Impatient brat.", he calls me which pulls a little chuckle from my lips.
The ripping of the foil, the snap of rubber, and then his dick nudges against me, dipping into me – just the tip. Fuck, I just want him inside me. He pulls back and repeats the motion a few times, until he finally sinks into me. Giving me a few moments to adjust myself to his length, his hands squeezing my tight ass, before he starts to pound into me.
Harder than last time he fucked me from behind because he isn’t limited by the tight space of his car’s backseat.
“Yes, yes, fuck.”, I whine, the little pleas intermingling with the resounding claps of skin against skin. The whole bar is shaking, the sturdy wood holding out against his hard thrusts.
His hands let go of my ass, his arms framing my body, holding onto the bartop. Using it as leverage to fuck me a tiny bit rougher. And I take everything he’s giving me, relishing the feeling of losing myself in the hard fucking.
Over 300 pounds pushing me up against the furniture, his dick pushing deep inside me. The tip slamming against my cervix, which is making me lose my mind fast.
Groans and mewls drop from my lips with every push into me, the sounds getting louder when he hits that sensitive spot inside me. I almost wanna bite my lip, but I know better than that by now. I know he wants to hear me.
Suddenly, he pulls himself out of me, and for a split second, I'm confused. But instead, his fingers slip into me, the sensations getting rid of my thoughts.
"Fucking hell, you're soaked.", he groans, his digits working in and out of me, the wet sounds almost obscene. The whines dropping from my lips as they stroke over the sensitive spot inside, the same one that his dick was flitting over just moments ago.
"Oh, fuck.", I moan, the intense stimulation making me shake, desperately holding onto the hard surface beneath me, as I cum on his fingers. He pulls them out again, and I whimper because of the sudden loss of fullness. He bends forward, his hands spreading my cheeks, while he laps up the wetness. The hurried licks of his tongue against the sensitive skin prolonging my orgasm, making me shiver.
He straightens back up and lifts me from the bar and just flips me around, setting me down on the wood again, so that I face him. The expression on his face, the hooded lids, the drowsiness in his eyes, the satisfied smirk, his lips glistening of my juices, … Yeah, no man ever has looked this good in a Cannibal Corpse shirt.
My arms reach back, propping myself up on the bar, and my legs spread in an instant, inviting him in. His eyes drop down to my pussy, dripping and still needy. He positions himself, gripping his rubbered-up dick at the base, dragging it over my clit, teasing my entrance with his tip. Driving us both crazy, I can see it on his face.
"Fuck, please...", I whine, my hips bucking up against him.
With a chuckle, he's slipping into my wetness again, easily. Stretching me around his dick and I groan when he bottoms me out, being a little overstimulated already.
He's fucking me in this position, hard just like before, my hips almost at the perfect height, because a normal table would have never been tall enough. I scramble to even hold on, my hands gripping his shoulders now instead of the surface beneath me, trying to not get shaken off it, but he holds me firm in his grasp, holding me steadfast, so his hard fucking doesn’t push me off.
"I'm not gonna make it for much longer.", he grunts quietly, almost like an apology. “’m close, fuck. Gonna come." A deep breath shakes his chest.
My hand extends to cup his face, and even though he seems almost lost in his search for release, he nearly stills.
"Do it. Come for me.", I whisper, my lips coasting against his.
The sound that escapes his throat is a desperate one, and he pulls me tighter against him. One arm around my waist, his hand on my hip, the fingertips digging into the supple swell. My fingers stroke through his hair, the soft strands, and I press my lips to his.
And he kisses me with a frenzy, until I feel his spine stiffen up and a short deep moan against my lips.
He shudders, his whole body shaking, as he spills inside me, his hips still rutting forward, and for a moment I wish, the condom between us wasn't there. Some creampie for dessert.
"Fuck...", he breathes, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck, his orgasm finally subsiding. “You okay?”
I nod, a faint ‘yes’ in my lips, and I slump against him, holding onto his waist, breathing heavily. Relishing the embrace, as he pulls me even closer with his strong arms. I breathe in his warm comforting scent, the fabric of the shirt rough against my cheek, as I nuzzle into him.
“I believe there is integral part of my home which you haven’t seen yet.”, he whispers, pressing soft kisses against the side of my face.
“Really?”, I ask, resting against his huge sweaty chest, my hands still tangled in his t-shirt.
Instead of answering, he lifts me off the surface, my legs closing around his waist. My panties are somewhere, but not covering my pussy that is sitting against his hips. But he doesn’t seem to care that I'm staining his shirt with my wetness. I mean, getting pussy juice on a Cannibal Corpse shirt has to be an achievement on its own, right? I giggle to myself, as he carries me up to his bathroom.
The shower indeed seems spacious enough for him to kneel down – contrary to the one in my apartment.
His hands lather up some soap and start to move over my body, the warmth of his fingers coasting over me. Softly cleaning me and washing away the suds. Refusing to let me do the same for him.
He gets down on his knees, lowering himself even further to the floor, to be right where he wants to be. At eye-level with my pussy. He lifts my left leg, placing it over his shoulder, and presses his face between my thighs. Licking and sucking eagerly.
The spray of water from above hits his hair as well, wetting and darkening the long strands, while my fingers tangle in them, my other hand looking for somewhere to hold onto. The cool tiles press into my back, while the water raining down on us and his huge warm body heat me up. My screams echo off the walls as he makes me come on his tongue, my legs almost giving out while his arms hold me up, not stopping until I’m spent.
We get out of the shower after having been in there for way too long, wasting water standing under the spray. He hands me a bathtowel and I wrap myself in it, just standing there. Watching him dry himself off. He’s quick and methodical about it, the soft fabric stroking over his wet skin, soaking up everything.
He hangs up his towel, and I try not to stare at his naked tattooed body. I mean, I’ve seen him like this before. Also, his dick has just been inside me, but I still can’t help it. I can’t tear my eyes off of him.
“What?”, he asks, as he sees me staring.
“Nothing, just looking at you.”, I say, pulling the towel tighter around me, cocooning myself up.
He comes closer. “Looking comfy.”, he comments, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“I am.”, I answer, and his arms close around me, pressing me against his broad naked chest.
“Stay the night?”, he asks, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Me all huddled up in the huge bathtowel can only nod and grin up at him.
next part: waking up in his bed or more stuff in the Masterlist ~
a/n: a special long chapter for the start of the weekend... i hope you guys had as much fun reading it, as i had writing it, gonna go take a cold shower now 🫠
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keeksandgigz · 2 months
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it's you and me (that's my whole world)- day 1 of keeks's lover house series♡
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Day 1 of my Lover House Series♡
♡rockstar!eddie munson x famous!fem!reader♡
allusion of smut, r and eddie are in a secret relationship, disgustingly fluffy, kinda sad and angsty<3
"the whole school is rolling fake dice/ you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes"
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You don't know how much longer you can go on with this lie.
"A PR Relationship for the ages" it was called on every single tabloid, everyone knew it was fake. Yet, you deluded yourself nobody did.
You deluded yourself that nobody knew it was to cover up the disastrous encounter with the paparazzi, catching you stumbling out of a dingy club hand in hand with Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson- your secret boyfriend. In those pictures he sported various lipstick marks on his face and neck. Your management team was furious.
To keep up the "American Sweetheart" image, you'd been persuaded to date some airhead quarterback, up and coming NFL star. And you'd tried, tried to hard to be able to establish something with this guy, but there wasn't much there there to begin with.
But you catch yourself running back to him. Every Wednesday night, he meets you at his New York apartment, adrenaline and fear thrumming within you as you enter through the back alley of his building.
Feeling safe in the comfort of his home, it's like a fortress where no one can reach you, a place where you can forget about the rest of the world and their demands and lay in his arms.
It's a swirl of lips, hands, tongues and limbs once you step foot in his door. The desperation to feel him as close as possible, starved for his touch, needing to feel him close. You seem to crave him with every fiber of your being as you often waste no time getting each other's clothes off.
Feeling the warmth of his skin, tracing the ink of his tattooed chest. He handles you with such gentleness and care that you can't fathom how a man like him could easily tarnish your image.
"Beautiful girl, missed you so much this week" he mumbles against the soft skin of your abdomen as he kisses down your body "Wednesday never comes fast enough, does it?" he chuckles, caressing the sides of your thighs, peppering kisses from the arch of your foot to your knee.
A slow tease, as it may seem, but in reality, it's just a way to make time go by more slowly, an illusion to grant yourself a longer night with him. A prayer to make your Wednesday nights never ending.
That's why you're tangled in sheets at 3 AM, while Eddie draws circles on your arm. "Y'know I don't mind having to hide, right?"
You sigh "I know, I just wish we could come clean, so I don't have to fake date that piece of shit" a gentle kiss is placed on your forehead.
"Soon, angel, I promise. M'fixing my image for you, so we can show up to your fancy events hand in hand. Everyone's gonna wish they didn't make shit up about us" he smiles, cradling your face in his hands. He is fighting sleep tooth and nail to be able to steal a glimpse, one more look, see how beautiful you look in the glowing yellow light of his side lamp.
"It's always gonna be you and me, baby" that's what he'd often say. A promise that things will eventually go your way.
It's too late to turn on the big light. So he allows himself one more touch, one more look, a caress.
Damning himself for falling victim to sleep, he looks at you one last time, already in the arms of Morpheus, as he lets himself sleep.
He doesn't hear you stir at 6 am, like clockwork. You grab your clothes and make your journey down the back stairs of the building, where your driver is waiting for you.
You look up. One day you'll get to wake up with him.
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Day 2 is Reputation! Find the form here!
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tobifuyu · 8 months
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I just want a baby with the right one
RAN HAITANI x f!reader
cw: domestic and tooth-rotting fluff, ran being a sappy dad, talks of pregnancy and marriage.
wc: 1,5k
a/n: this is the first part of a longer oneshot with more angst and (ofc) smut that I’m gonna post soon enough. enjoy the short fluff for the time being. I –technically– don’t like kids but I get such baby fever when I see happy families so this is me wishing I could have a partner as perfect as ran!
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Stepping foot into a silent home usually meant Ran was asleep somewhere.
After removing your shoes and dropping your bag on the kitchen island, your hunch was confirmed to be right when you found his big body sprawled on your shared bed.
The image is nothing out of the ordinary for you, your sleepy husband can’t go much without his needed rest, especially without you around to keep him company.
Whether now, or five years prior, everything would still look the same: messy purple hair sparse against the white bedding, rosy lips parted as he takes deep breaths, and tattooed chest going up and down as he does.
There is only one stark difference, something that makes your lips curl in a soft smile as you take in the scene.
His arms are bent, creating a makeshift safety harness for the little body that is resting in the middle of his naked chest.
As you carefully and silently approach the bed, you start glimpsing the little face of the angel that your husband is embracing.
Her rosy cheeks resemble that of her father, and you fight the urge to grace them with a kiss in fear of waking her up.
For a moment, you think back to the phone in your purse and curse yourself for not taking it out sooner, wanting to take a picture of the sweet moment, but in the end deciding against going all the way to the kitchen just to come back to either of them having moved.
Ran blinks at you as the mattress dips under your weight. You gather he was just resting his eyes, clever and responsible enough not to fall asleep while holding his newborn daughter.
He raises one finger to his lips to gesture at you to remain silent, but you can’t contain your giggle as you’re filled with a bubbling sense of joy. Part of it is to be blamed on the few drinks you had catching up with your friends, but mostly it has grown inside of you while watching Ran gently rub your daughter’s back.
He rolls his eyes but can’t hide a grin at your behavior, and you bend down to kiss it away with a quick but sweet peck, “Thank you for looking after her.”
“You don’t have to thank me for being with my daughter. I’m her dad y’know?”
“‘course I know, baby. I was there when we made her,” another giggle, Ran has to fight the urge to shut you up with loads of kisses, but you both know he can’t move too much in this position.
So you lay by his side, head resting on his shoulder as you cast your glance towards the sleeping baby.
You can feel your heart clenching, every moment you’re not by her side is like torture. You enjoyed going out alone for once, but you missed the two of them like crazy and spent the whole night pestering your friends about it.
“Can’t believe she’s turning one month old tomorrow,” you whisper, hand raised to gently stroke at her scrunched-up forehead.
“Time goes by so fast,” the breath Ran takes fills his lungs so much you see your little one raising up and down.
“It’s okay, baby, one month is not the end of the world.” You’re trying to rationalize it for the sake of both of you, but you know how emotional your husband gets with these types of things.
The passing of time has never been something he particularly enjoys, not only dreading his getting older but also his brother’s. You recall watching him mop around the day before every single one of Rindou’s birthdays (he raised the boy, after all). So you already knew things would only get worse when it came to his own kid.
“Next thing you know she’s gonna turn twenty and walk out of the house with a partner who probably has one of those dumb jobs like influencers.”
“Hate the game, not the player. You’re a club owner, you literally make money off of ‘em.” You bop his nose with the tip of your finger and his neck muscles strain as he raises his head from the pillow while trying to bite at it.
“That’s why I’m saying it’s stupid,” he pouts. You swear, he’s become such a dad.
But you remember how scared he was when you first found out you were pregnant. You both were.
You didn’t plan for kids. Yeah, Ran had always dreamed of building a family of his own, but he had agreed with you that if you never felt ready, it would be okay.
The two of you were a family already, with Rindou popping by from time to time, and plans of getting a dog if you ever felt like shaking things up.
You were doing okay. Then it happened.
Both of you had always been so careful, so you reasoned that it was just meant to be.
Ran was scared of becoming a dad. He spent his early life taking care of Rindou, and he was fulfilled enough to just enjoy his adult years being with his wife. Traveling, clubbing, lazing in bed. The two of you only cared for one another and it was more than he thought he would ever get in life.
Ran’s pure excitement took over his fear pretty quickly, but he held it in for some time because he could tell how much more shaken up you were by the news.
You were not ready to become a mother, you didn’t think you had it in you. You could barely take care of yourself, how would you help in raising a baby? And it’s not like you could leave the job to Ran, he already had to deal with it alone once, you wouldn’t do such a thing to him again.
It took you some days to make your decision and come to peace with it, days where you closed up to Ran and laid alone in bed, thinking about how your body would change, how much pain you would have to endure, all the sacrifices and scary aspects of pregnancy and ultimately raising a human life.
Ran had come back from work one day and found you in the kitchen baking a cake, or rather trying to. Your cheeks were dusted with flour, and you were dipping a finger in the bowl filled with custard.
“Taste test?” He had asked with a raised brow while removing his coat and shoes at the door.
“Mh, I think our baby likes this one.”
“Do they now? Are you already blaming them for your cravings?” With lips curved in a smile, he had approached you slowly, holding out his arms as you sank into them, head resting on his jacket-covered shoulder.
“I was trying to bake a cake to celebrate our pregnancy. ‘m sorry it took me so long, Ran. I want this baby with you.”
Ran had held you a little tighter at that, softly stroking down the length of your hair while whispering reassuring promises in your ears, tears now wetting both of your faces.
“It’s gonna be okay, my love. As long as we’re together, everything is gonna be alright.”
“As long as we’re with her, everything is gonna be alright.” You repeat his words from then, staring up at his lilac eyes from under your lashes.
He’s already gazing down at you with a look that you know well by now, one that is filled with love and longing. No matter how close you are, Ran always seems to want you even closer.
“I love you, my sweet girl. I love both of you so much. I’m never leaving you, I promise.” He slithers one of his hands under your body, holding the back of your shoulder to keep you pressed against his side, all while softly caressing the skin, copying the movement he was drawing on the smaller back of your sleepy daughter, “Swear on my life.”
A short kiss is left on his collarbone by your lips before you bend down to sweetly press them on top of your daughter’s small head of light hair.
“Now tell me you love us too!” Ran whines and presses the side of his face against yours, squishing your cheeks together as little giggles shake both of your bodies. All the attempts at silencing him are worthless, and you’re forced to give in to his pleading as he starts tickling your side.
“Ran, I love you, baby! And I love our babygirl. I promise, you guys are my whole life.”
All that commotion must’ve finally woken up the tiny girl because the silent room is now filled with laughter and the cries of a baby that would’ve once annoyed you, but now sound like music to your ears.
In that moment you realize that your words aren’t just mindless and sweet-coated, a life without either one of them truly wouldn’t be worth living. And you decide to not give up your family for anything in the world.
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nite-puff · 5 months
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fuck it! gay robots!
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ishimondo wall-e au! it came to me in a dream.
mondo (… M.O.N.D-0???) is the last robot standing cleaning up earth when he gets a surprise visit from a rocket ship. on that ship is taka (… T.A.K.A???) who has been sent to find any proof that earth can support life once again. the two meet and shenanigans ensue. maybe they fall in love???
anyways, more rambling from me about these two under the cut.
okay! so my main thing with mondo and his behavior is that it’s all based on him being the last being on earth, so he really doesn’t have anyone around him (other than his pet cockroach, chuck!) and therefore doesn’t feel the need to act a certain way to impress anyone. so this is version of mondo is if he didn’t have a whole bunch of self-image issues and just was his funki and cringe self. he literally is cringe and free.
after years having to clean up earth, he’s grown an affinity for the little things to pass the time. like collecting little knick-knacks he finds on the job to bring back home or making figures out of the cubes of trash he makes. he’s a little artist and collector.
taka on the other hand is at first rigid and is set out to complete his directive because it’s what he was made to do. he has a whole population back on the axium counting on him to find any traces of life on earth (or so he thinks). he does occasionally display some signs of humanity and happiness. he feels warmth in the little things as well, like a cockroach or bubble wrap or a lighter. he’s enthralled and wants to know more about this strange place but can’t because he has a job to do. maybe the strange little robot guy he meets doesn’t throw him off his course.
design stuff! i know i made mondo look less… anthro ig??? in his design than taka, but i wanted to make up for it by “personalizing” him a bit. he’s doodled all over himself and he thinks his trousers make him look nice. maybe he thinks the doodles look badass because they’re like tattoos. i also did that to contrast more with taka, who looks spotless. i was considering giving him legs, but remembered that of course he would have wheels. biker, and alla that. he was born to roll around. and i don’t think it’s noticeable, but i tried to make his arms and hands bigger than wall-e’s because he’s a little stronger. in this au, mondo doesn’t do the trash compacting his his little cube body, but with his hands (to keep with the idea that mondo likes to work and creat stuff with his hands). so he needs to have bigger and more efficient tools. also, i changed his wheels to be diamond shaped.
taka meanwhile was super easy to design. he and eve have sorta similar design qualities, like a majority white color palette and very simple shapes with not a lot of detail going on. very easy to mix the two. the idea of his design is what spurred me into thinking about this au. the one thing i’ll point out is that i made eve’s little dots that pop up when she scans things vertical so that it can sort of resemble taka’s medal. idk i thought it was neat.
(also, if im being completely honest with myself, if taka was actually any wall-e character, he would be MO. just an angry gremlin that musters up the courage to stray off his path because he is so determined to clean up wall-e’s mess. and then they become friends at the end. he just gives off taka energy.)
anyways, that’s it for right now. im pretty satisfied with taka’s design, but im considering changing some things on mondo’s. mainly the color palette.
am i gonna turn this into a full-fledged story??probably not, but maybe i’ll add more onto it in the near future. like assigning other characters.
wall-e’s a cute movie. gotta put the blorbos in it.
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rqgnarok · 10 months
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the audience needs a part two for the jamie + fan kissing scene PLEASEEEE
your wish is my command, anon (part 1)
Jamie hasn't slept a wink when you finally come home.
It's a quiet thing, your homecoming. To the house you two share and couldn't run away to after you caught Jamie in someone else's arms. He'd called you desperately time after time and all tries went unanswered, followed up by texts begging to please just let me know you're okay. You'd read them all and only answered once before Keeley- who you'd chosen for a safe haven after running away from the club- took your phone away from you.
She'd also refused to speak neither ill nor good things of Jamie. She offered you a hot drink and spare clothes to change into, a comfy guest room, and a shoulder to cry on. The morning after you also had texts from Sam, Dani, and some of the other boys who'd witnessed the exchange between Jamie and said fan, all confirming the version your boyfriend had tried to tell you the night before.
God, you were so embarrassed. That this had happened, that some of your closest friends had been there to watch, that you couldn't believe him when he said he'd never do something like that to you even when you knew how deeply and loyally Jamie loved.
But the image of him kissing someone else was tattooed behind your eyelids. As a consequence, your night was also mostly sleepless, and when you finally come face to face with Jamie you both look like tired messes.
His hair is greasy and unkempt. He'd been pacing the living room and lying on the couch trying to sleep when you came home, so his clothes- the same from last night- are wrinkled and a little smelly. You in return are wearing someone else's clothes, eyes swollen from crying and body aching with the tension this whole thing has brought upon you.
You're both a sight for each other's sore eyes.
"Hi," you say quietly, dropping your bag and your keys on the counter.
"Hey," he answers breathlessly like he can't believe you're here. One blink and you might disappear into thin air like you never even existed. "You- Keeley called. Said you were on your way home... on your way here."
You close your eyes painfully at the correction.
"Still home," you reply, hesitant to get nearer. "The guys called. Told me everything. I-"
"I'm sorry," Jamie goes to hold you again but seems to hesitate when remembering how you'd tried to twist out of his grip the previous night. You close the remaining distance, wrapping your hands around his shirt and clinging for dear life. "I'm so sorry, I swear I would never- I hate that you had to see that, I'm so, so sorry-"
"Baby," you say, and Jamie melts like snow under the summer sun. You can't not touch him, cupping his face, touching his skin. Something inside your chest tightens when he nuzzles your palm with so much force his neck must ache a little. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that, I'm sorry I didn't listen-"
"Why would you?" he says self-deprecatingly, turning to burrow his face into your wrist, the crook of your elbow, and into your neck, hugging you tight. "You- I would've done the same thing, right? If I saw you... if I..."
"I wouldn't," she cups the back of his neck, possessive. Comforting. "And neither would you. I know that now, I'm sorry."
The only person who should be sorry is the fan that thought had some ownership over a footballer they'd never met, that put Jamie in such position no one deserved to be in.
"Missed you," he's crying, you realize when his voice cracks and something wet hits your neck. "All I could think was that I'd never see you again, and I... fuck."
"We're okay," you soothe, running your hands through his hair. He smells of sweat and faint traces of cologne. The scent alone and the thought of never being this close to him again makes your eyes water, too. "We're okay, baby, we're gonna be okay."
You will be, you're sure. After at least 9 hours of sleep in the same bed and keeping each other in the same room at all times, eventually the sting of this entire night will fade. You have to talk, too, about so many things, but right now you only pull Jamie toward your bedroom.
There'll be time for all of that. After all, you're not going anywhere.
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Eddie Munson + potential Iron Maiden references
because I'm hyperfixiating and desperate. Also apparently not everyone was raised on 80s metal, so this might be new to some people and gatekeeping is lame. None of this is confirmed obviously and I'm probably reaching but here we go
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let's start with the most obvious one: This is Iron Maiden's mascot. His name is Eddie. He's been on every single album cover, most single covers, merch, posters... He looks a little different every time, but he's always undead.
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This is the cover artwork for the 1982 album The Number of the Beast. It features A huge version of Eddie, controlling the strings of a red, devil-like creature, which in turn holds the strings of a tiny version of Eddie. The Devil (Vecna, there I said it) is not shown to be aware of Big Eddie controlling him. It's all very double agent, The Spy parallel. Also if you take just the frame of Big Eddie's hand and the devil, it looks A LOT like Eddie Munson's puppetmaster tattoo. With a little fantasy and even more reaching there's also some vaguely mindflayery shape in the background of the image.
(probably irrelevant but still fun fact: This album was released on March 22nd 1982 - EXACTLY four years before Eddie Munson became the main suspect in Chrissy's death)
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This one speaks for itself. We've all seen the Eddie prequel book that's gonna come out later this year with literally the same title as this 1983 song.
Interestingly, Eddie has batwings here, aka KAS THEORY CONFIRMED?
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This one, holy shit. This is the artwork for the 1986 (!) album Somewhere in Time, and if the year and title weren't enough, there is so much more.
1. Again starting with the most obvious: There is a graffito on the wall to the very right that literally says EDDIE LIVES.
2. Under the graffito we see a hand reaching up from the ground (grave?). The version of Eddie that we get here is a cyborg, and the hand on the ground looks very cyborg-esque as well. The band members are seen a little towards the left as normal humans, so it's not like everyone's just a cyborg in this world. Ergo the hand belongs to a second Eddie, which is very in line with the whole "there is another timeline with shadow selves"-theory.
3. The red clouds in the background are very vecna-y.
4. The little winged figure from the Flight of Icarus cover is seen left of the big tower in the middle.
5. The neon sign of the movie theatre to the very bottom left contains the words "Live After Death" (illegible here, but it's there!)
6. The lyrics on this album! In particular Wasted Years, featuring the lines "But now it seems I'm just a stranger to myself
And all the things I sometimes do, it isn't me but someone else"
- again, very much in line with shadow selves. And even more Stranger in a Strange Land:
"Was many years ago that I left home and came this way
I was a young man full of hopes and dreams
But now it seems to me that all is lost and nothing gained
Sometimes things ain't what they seem
No brave new world, no brave new world
No brave new world, no brave new world
Night and day I scan horizon, sea and sky
My spirit wanders endlessly
Until the day will dawn and friends from home discover why
Hear me calling, rescue me
Set me free, set me free
Lost in this place and leave no trace
Stranger in a strange land
Land of ice and snow
Trapped inside this prison
Lost and far from home
[...]
They found his body lying where it fell on that day
Preserved in time for all to see
No brave new world, no brave new world
Lost in this place, and leave no trace
What became of the man that started
All are gone and their souls departed
Left me here in this place so all alone"
Does that sound like someone left for dead in the Upside Down or is that just me?
7. idk a fuckload more in the cover probablay because it's wild.
Bonus Metallica fact: Master of Puppets was released on March 3rd 1986. Eeven if he bought the album the day it was released (he would) that would have given him under three weeks to rehearse it so much that he could give the most metal concert ever on March 27th.
Anyway that's just from the top of my head; I might add on to it if/when I think of more. PLEASE spam me with your theories I beg you.
Side note: Contrary to popular belief, if you got into metal because of Eddie: That's awesome! Welcome! Again, gatekeeping sucks; we've all had our minds blown by a Metallica song for the first time at some point, so let's be nice to the newcomers.
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nburkhardt · 1 year
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Saw this post and couldn’t get it out of my mind :)
His tattoos don’t even cross his mind when he takes his sweater off, too focused on knowing that he’s the only one that could handle swimming to check for a gate. Hoping that for once Dustin’s wrong.
It’s not until Nancy’s using her shirt to wrap around his middle that he remembers, “fuck, did they eat the sunflower?”
All three of them stare at him and in that moment he also remembers, no one knows about his tattoos. The only other person that knows about any of them is the artist who did them and he’s all the way in Indianapolis, probably working on a new design for him.
“Where’s the sunflower?” Eddie breaks him out of his thoughts, “because it seems like those bats just went to town on you. And you have some serious road rash on your back”
He doesn’t have to move far, the sunflower is or maybe was on his left side on the ribcage, fallen petals going down towards his hips. Pointing towards it, he watches as Eddie looks and his eyes wander across his chest. There’s a broken crown sitting on his collarbone, hopefully at least.
“Uh, well, the sunflower has some damage, sorry to say, though that crown is fine. Any, uh any other tattoos?” Eddie tells him and there’s something in his voice that he can’t quite place.
He nods and turns around, there should be an image of the nail bat on his shoulder blade with the lyrics from Mad World, “the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had” wrapped around it.
It’s probably not the best time to worry about the tattoos and should probably worry about the fact that they’re stuck in the upside down but his brain can’t stop focusing on the things that kept him from freaking out for the last three years.
“Woah! That’s metal as all hell, some of the words got a little scraped. But still there”
Eddie’s voice brings him back to the moment and he’s thankful the nail bat is still there. He sees Robin and Nancy talking and then before he knows it, pulling him and Eddie along to who knows where. His focus on the tattoos fade away and in place is just pain from his whole body.
Once they reach top-side again, his tattoos aren’t on his mind. The pain from the bites and road rash is the only thing he’s processing. Not processing that the kids are staring at him both in worry and curiosity because they didn’t know about the tattoos and the sunflower is peaking out from under the makeshift bandage and the broken crown is on display.
Thankfully Nancy gets everyone moving. He gets cleaned up and bandaged with actual bandages. They plan, steal a Winnebago, buy weapons and before Steve knows it, they’re back in the upside down and he’s telling Eddie and Dustin to not be stupid.
After it’s officially over, they’re in the hospital for several reasons. Max’s broken legs and arms, Dustin’s ankle, Eddie’s bites and Steve’s own bites. But it’s over and everyone is safe, that’s all Steve cares about really.
He gets cornered by Robin, and it’s not really cornered since he’s stuck in a hospital bed already. “Ok Dingus, now you’ll be explaining how the hell you managed to keep this a secret from me!”
Shrugging, because he doesn’t know exactly how to explain this. Especially since his brain is feeling like mush with the drugs they have him on. “I like tattoos” is all he says and then promptly falls asleep. He has good reason for it, there’s plenty of time to talk when he’s not high on pain meds.
~
I’m gonna leave it there because I’m lost on how to continue right now. I’ll definitely come back to it to do a part two of the actual conversations and why, how & when Steve got the tattoos. Here’s a better understanding of what they are tho:
Sunflower with fallen petals on his ribcage, the only one with color (his favorite) A broken crown on his collarbone (represents fallen King Steve, this was the first tattoo) The nail bat with lyrics from Mad World on his shoulder blade, “the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had” wrapping around it. Not mentioned because it hasn’t happened yet in the fic, he has a d20 (for Dustin) tattoo planned and a copy of one of Robin’s doodles from her shoes. (He’s a sentimental guy? Okay?!)
@i-less-than-three-you @artiststarme @imfinereallyy (hopefully you don’t mind I used your idea, I couldn’t get the post outta my head)
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madstronaut · 2 months
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it is currently madstro'clock and it is FaFiCoWriYear in this house
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the original FaFiCoWriMo post feels too long to keep reblogging but I'm choking laughing right now because I decided to link it and this image above is what I see - FUCK IT WE BALL 😂😂😂😂😂😂 (truly my whole tumblr vibe)
me: gonna plug away at commenting on all the fics I’ve read lately that I love hmm should take a break 
also me: *takes break by looking for other fics to read*
I was completely taken off-guard by stumbling on this fic while mindlessly scrolling on tumblr and having it show up in my recs, so yes i live-blogged by reading even though I HAVE SO MANY OTHER DRAFTS OPEN BUT IT'S COS I END UP RE-READING CERTAIN FICS OVER AND OVER AND I KEEP FINDING NEW COMMENTS TO WRITE IM STILL THINKNIG OF COMMENTS I MISSED ON FICS I ALREADY COMMENTED ON BUT ANYWAY AHEM- 
without further ado, pls stay for the rambly thoughts, then flee in fright because of the increasing levels of unhinged commentar-
Reading: Touch-starved Nikto fic series by @keysorsomething
- "his current running theory was that you must have some form of brain damage. Perhaps you were dropped as a baby."
hehehehehehehe i swear nikto writers capture what i think would be his sense of humor with bullseye accuracy imho
- “His bright blue eyes broke through the dim lighting as if they were backlit by two LED bulbs in his skull.”
“You crack your eye open, meeting his piercing blue stare, like hot water down the back of your shirt.”
OMG TRULY THIS ENCAPSULATES THE EXPERIENCES OF BEHOLDING HIS EYES/WHAT I IMAGINE EYE CONTACT WITH NIKTO IS LIKE???
- “Maybe you could weird him out enough for him to leave you be..?”
literally held my breath reading the next few paragraphs til I read “He’s very gentle”
I don’t know what exactly it is about gentle touch but it can cut through people’s armor & walls like butter IRL and in fic and I JUST *am exploding, cannot type further*
- “His eyes looked like he was blinking on occasion, which was actually mildly upsetting because there goes your Christmas present for him.”
honestly what a thoughtful gift for the reader to get him eyedrops lmao *tell me u have a crush without telling me u have a crush, oh nothing just got you an extremely specific gift cos I noticed small details about you*
- “Did this count at fraternization?”
LMAO READER THIS MADE ME CRY LAUGHING “Im SORRy i woNT TOUCH HIM WITH TWO FINGERS AGAIN, IM SORRY I MISSED IT IN MY CONTRACT COS I WAS TOO BUSY STARING AT ALL THE $$$$-
- “I wanna know what’s up-” you pause “-man,” you tack it on, but quickly feel like you shouldn’t have. Who the fuck calls a guy like this man?
omg I am alr in love i fucking looooove awkward!readers
- trope alert trope alert trope alert STORAGE CLOSET READER? REALLY? (yes please god yes im so happy rn)
i would like to kneel before this all-powerful goofy ass awkward adorable reader who has nikto scared in a closet looking for ways out 
- “Not like that,” You correct, and he just eyes you more confusedly. “I mean, not yet..? Look,” You sigh,”
the “i mean, not yet” - like omg nikto if i was in ur shoes hearing this i would have to suppress the strong urge to immediately make out and probably fail to stopper the hearts exploding from my body (and ofc hide the involuntary boner popping maybe hello?)
- ““See you tonight,” Klaus mocks.”
i pity these fools, reader has just tamed nikto, i would beat all their asses immediately singlehandedly from the sheer high and power trip i would be on
- if someone referred to me as ‘one of the three snoopiest bitches on base’ i would get it tattooed on my collarbones probably
- ‘being called into König’s office and being scolded about fraternizing’ - thisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonig
- ‘His guns are neatly lined up against the wall, biggest to smallest.’
CUTECUTECUTECUTECUTECUTE omg i just know he prob has nicknames for them too
- ““Нет,” He replies firmly. He’s in more comfortable clothes, something you’ve never seen before.”
i am probably dating myself here but at the tight t-shirt and sweats description all i hear is BOWCHICKAWOWOWOWWWWW
- “Your eyes stay on him intensely as he lays down in the bed, sliding under the covers. “You are here to help us sleep,”
ok all my horniness left me (ok almost all not all of it of course not i would die) and i just felt so tender and awwwwwwww of it all, esp. the reader comparing his grip to a child with their lovie :( 
- “You see the faint, deep-brown shaping of his brows, his long eyelashes, the scar that covers the right side, but most importantly, the pale gleam of his skin in the little light.
He had washed the eyeblack off. And he had done it just for you.”
I am left speechless here; the buildup to this scene is storytelling and climactic perfection in my opinion
then i clicked on next part and it is titled “caught” and i screamed out loud lol
- “You dare to even think you want the world to melt away, for time to be this moment and this moment alone, always and forever, but should you really let him boss you around like that?”
looooooooove, totally captures that feeling when u have one of those 'time stands still/you wished time stood still' moments IRL
also YES READER WITH A SPINE/BRAIN IS ALSO MY OTHER KINK
- also as much as ive somehow developed a bizarrely unquenchable thirst for graves (do not @ me, i know, i have problems and I love it) canon graves is exactly how id imagine he’d be like in this fic esp with the constant mansplaining
- "How do you deny a masked man who’s speaking in his mother tongue?"
YOU CANT. YOU JUST CAN’T! IT’S A LAW OF NATURE. IT IS SCIENTIFIC FACT. IT IS IRREFUTABLE. IT IS ABSOLUTE TRUTH. IT IS DIVINE DOGMA. IN THIS ESSAY I WILL-
- “When you look into his eyes, you feel like he wants nothing more than to touch you, and you feel he agrees that this moment is ever so precious. But he doesn’t want to touch you. Perhaps he’s afraid, or perhaps he doesn’t like his face being touched, so he won’t touch yours. The Golden Rule and all that.”
“It’s all the best thing to ever happen in this place, and you have a feeling it’s the best thing to have ever happened to him.”
““Nikto?” You ask, voice soft and wavering, like if you speak too loud you’ll create a rip in space-time and it will have never happened.”
again i feel like someone has snipershot me to the heart with tenderness, everything about this fic and the premise just speaks to a core desire i have to create moments like this, to bypass someone’s armor and touch their heart, and be a source of healing for hurt just by the gift of our mere presence and vice versa - and have this moment and memory become an indescribable source of light and strength in dark and dreary times to be taken out and relived over and over again as needed (or is it just me that does this lol idk)  
fanfic writers never change and keep creating pls <3 ur words create worlds that inspire and brighten our IRL world <3
- i am deeply moved by the indescribable tenderness of nikto waking reader up by softly patting their cheek - this man known and infamous for his harshness and aggression - UNF
-  “As always, they are an icy blue that doesn’t match the feeling of having them on you at all. But by now they feel so much cooler than before, like a warm hug or a heated blanket instead of a hot iron.”
if you’ve known any blue-eyed folx up close i have most def seen their eye color change with emotions, sooo fascinating and hot
- ummmmm my jaw fucking dropped when i realized he leaned in…TO KISS HER? I THOUGHT HE WAS ALSO GONNA REST HIS EYES AND JUST SLEEP FOR A BIT NEXT TO HER? OMG the emotional rOLLERCOASTER THIS STORY HAS TAKEN ME ON *running to download it as we speak*
- BUT aHHHH HTHE ACTUAL SCREAM WHEN READER RUNS INTO KONIG
- omg when reader starting sniffling i just want to hug her and also go back in the room and yell at konig OMG YOU MADE OUR HIGHLY TRAINED PMC-LEVEL KILLER READER CINNAMON ROLL CRY I WILL HURT YOU SIR IDK HOW COS IM LIKE 5’2 BUT IF I HAVE TO CLIMB U LIKE A TREE TO DO SO I WILL TO GET IN YOUR FACE-
- “Who the hell can you trust? Both not to talk, but also with Nikto.” - ends up being Velikan meanwhile me busy shredding the post-it behind my back hoping/suggesting it’s dmitry bale and trying not to cry- (ignore me dmitry is my current hyper fixation)
- i wont lie i am both so heart warmed by how tender and sweet reader is for being so good at reading body language and also laughing my ass off at her having this kinda complicated conversation with velikan who does not talk, mostly growls also while typing this his name autocorrected to pelican and i cannot stop fucking laughing
- omg DMITRY REFERENCE I SCREAMED OUT LOUD (it’s like 1130pm where i am, sorry to my apt neighbors)
- also omg i am crying at this allegiance letter with sputnik, i love both how thoughtful and it is and how it highlights each member and their personality - and that the return of sputnik returned some good memories back to nikto <3, shoutout to any PTSD folx who also deal with blankouts, flashbacks, and having good memory recall be a total struggle street - i think i would openly sob if someone did for me the emotional equivalent of what velikan (and allegiance and by extension reader) did for nikto here with sputnik <3 (and now im remembering IRL times people have done this for me and now im crying omg THE POWER OF FANFIC Y’ALL)
-AH YEGOR CAMEO? MY FAVORITE UKRAINIAN OPERATOR IN ALL OF COD? (madstro, there’s only one ukrainian operat-SHUT UP I SAID MY FAVORITE UKRAINIAN OPERATOR SHOWED UP)
- also i love how Velikan is written here - “This motherfucker was going to get him put on Fatal Attractions.” i would chill and fuck with him and also probably kill for him hahaha jk or am i-
- very into this irresponsible driver yet simultaneously responsible dog dad rodion rn
- also love the small touch of velikan removing his mask to look yegor in the eye asking if krueger is dead or not
the absolute ride this fic took me on???? incredible incredible incredible this is going in my list of top favorite COD fics @keysorsomething and if i could boost this in the nikto fics tag i would but i'll mostly just be salivating here in the corner over this fic in the meantime, tyvm <3
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me thinks, just maybe, you should totally share your fab four characters hcs (specifically ones ab their appearances) 😇 also i just rlly love headcanons
GDJGHJGDJHD THIS IS SO FUNNY I LITERALLY HAVE LIKE. WRITTEN IN MY NOTES APP ALL MY MAIN APPEARANCE HEADCANONS AND STUFF AND I WAS GONNA SEND YOU SCREENSHOTS EARLIER BUT I TOTALLY FORGOT GHGHDHGD so anyways im just gonna copy/paste my word vomit (plus added commentary as i reread this) here lmao
(also just a quick little thing, i have far too many hcs for these fucks, some of which contradict each other bc it kind of depends on what setting/story im thinking about these characters in. things like gender and pronouns change a lot too, so im not even gonna try and catalog all that shit. just know they are all Gay and Trans and only party has "consistent" pronouns bc they always use they/them, but i might add others in if im feeling spicy. the lack of canon material is absolutely wonderful for my creativity, so this is just like. a collection of the things that remain the same across the majority of my mental images of them lol)
Jet Star: no surprise here, his hair is very textured! so many curls!! i see the curls as a bit looser, not super tight or packed together but still like, well defined yknow? i envision him with fairly dark skin as well and, playing into the whole star/space association i have w/ him, i feel like he absolutely loves body glitter and, like, sparkly eyeshadows and shit (he doesn't wear it *all* the time but he'll put it on for a party or something and then just let it rub off over time. needless to say, there is glitter fucking all over his room). also, he fucking LOVES jewelry! just wears SO many bracelets and necklaces and shit (more bracelets than necklaces but there's still a lot of both). this was more of a ttid specific thing, but i think ive gotten so used to imaging him with a huge fucking scar on/around his neck, that its sort of bled into my regular interpretations of him so that's there as well! also, he wears an eyepatch PURELY as an aesthetic thing bc he thinks it makes him look cool and it switches eyes constantly but he denies that fact whenever people point it out! (that is until he actually *does* get his eye fucked up. some exterminator noticed how the patch's location would change, thought it would be funny to give it a permanet placement).
Party Poison: SO MANY FUCKING TATTOOS I'VE WRITTEN A POST ABT THIS AND I COULD HONESTLY WRITE A WHOLE FIC ABT IT I JUST- THEM. INK. COLORS. FUCK. love the idea of them with long hair, too. they usually keep it shaggy and just a *tad* bit longer than shoulder length, but i feel like they'd only cut it when they're in jusssst the right mood so it'll tend to grow out for months, get really long and start to reach their mid back, and then they'll get annoyed and finally chop a shit ton off when they're bored at like 4 am. also, this has nothing to do with appearances but they get fucking terrible and frequent migraines, purely because i get terrible and frequent migraines my only hobby is projecting my problems onto these gay fucks :D (also could so write a fic abt that and how it effected them it the city/their conflicting feelings about taking pills to help with the pain once they get out to the zones... hmmm...) the fucker also has sharp as hell teeth! canine especially! idk why they just do. kobra does to (snake siblings go brrr) but party's are noticed more often because they tend to talk a lot more/loudly and smile wider than kobra so people notice it on them more. im also a big fucking fan of android party so sometimes they are robot to me :) if they aren't robot, then they usually have some type of prosthetic limb in my brain (usually an arm idk why and idk if that's gonna be in ttid but yknow. we ball). they also really like lipstick, and they've got a large collection of practically every color imaginable
The Kobra Kid: okay so like i said before, sharp teeth! snake boy's got fangs!! he's also got heterochromia (ooo city trauma from being Different time!! there was definetly talk of surgeries to "correct" his eyes when he was younger and it was becoming more noticeable, but party always fought the adults on it, said he was too young, it would be too expensive, shit like that. worst came to worst, they'd get into some trouble to distract from the issue for a bit). anyways, i think the kid's naturally blonde, but not *that* blonde, yknow? like he gets out to the desert an the sun makes it a bit lighter and he falls in love with the idea of it being fucking BLONDE blonde, so he totally steals party's leftover bleach and just fried the absolute shit out of it. also, fuck it, i only thought of this just now but im incorporating it into everything ever; he dyes a streak in the front the same red as poison. (i like the idea that joys close to each other will dye their hair the others favorite color or the color that they have their hair as. and they're brothers!!! he loves his sibling!!!! he gets a re streak fuck you i can do what i want :]) uhhh other kobra things, oh! the world is a bright, bright place, and my man wears sunglasses constantly, even indoors, to Cope (again. projecting.) and yeah maybe he wears them too so he's harder to read/looks more badass, but really its just bc it fucking bright out man. OH AND PIERCINGS FUCK I FORGOT ABOUT THE PIERCINGS HE'S GOT SO MANY MOSTLY IN THE EARS BUT EYEBROW AND SEPTUM TOO AND OF FUCKING *COURSE* MY MAN HAS SNAKEBITES FUCK (one again might be projecting here but i love piercings and he'd look cool with them so he has them) also just thought of this but his nose is Fucked Up omg he gets punched in the face so much
Fun Ghoul: Scar :] he makes the most animated facial expressions too, and he's got these big fucking bright green eyes, and all that combines with the scar kind of freaks people out and he fucking LOVES it! he laughs at literally everything, too, especially when he's feeling nervous or super energetic. his adrenaline gets pumping and he's just cackling like a hyena. anyways, his hair is so fucking dark like *inky* black, and he's never heard of a shower a day in his life so my guy is greasy as all FUCK. his hair is just so fucking shiny and stringy and jet absolutely yells at him constantly trying to get him to WASH HIS FUCKING HAIR. it's longer than poison's, but not by a lot, and he ties it back a lot especially when he's working on projects and shit. he's cut it if he didn't hate it so much when it's short. his skin tone's also like a medium dark-ish, and i think he has a few tattoos but not nearly as many as party (his are all like super meaningful and related to like, late crew members or phoenix witch/religious things or mementos of super important moments in his life. (part of him hopes that, if the battery ever does get him and they steal his mind and memories away, the ink in his skin will help him remember who he truly is). he's got a lot of burn scars too (bombs and shit)!! not most aren't super severe, but they're visible in a lot of spots. he thinks it looks cool. fucker not only paints his nails, but he paints everyone else's too whether or not they're aware of it at them time (he gets bored and does it while they're sleeping lmao. party loves it, kobra's indifferent, jet pretends to get pissed off bc it makes ghoul laugh but really he thinks its sweet). also a fan of him with prosthetic limbs but i haven't really thought about that all too much yet.
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mfuro · 8 months
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some more goofy ah ah postal dude headcanons
this is mostly about p2 dude soooo.... (WARNING VERY RAMBLY)
Was and still is one of those people that you could have paid them to make you a geocities website for you if you didnt know how to code
speaking of school i do think he probably has an associates and thats it, went to community college and had a straight 2.0-2.5 GPA and passed for a degree he barely uses (till he gets the RWS job honestly)
i think dude 100% found champ one day, just a really ratty looking puppy full of worms under his trailer one day. thats his dog now
gonna be real honest, dude is probably not the best dog owner but he really tries (for more elaboration you can ask im very passionate about animal care/content because i spent literal hours researching for my fic....)
OH YEAH the bitch, i can see them getting married like, right out of college/soon after, you got to be at least a bit young and dumb to tattoo 'Dude' on your collarbone like she did...
the marriage was most likely for image on dudes part and at first infatuation on the bitch’s part. 
dude needs constant stimulation or else he is forced to think about his life choices and will have a crisis
insomniac, he hasnt been able to sleep on his own bed since the bitch decided it was hers now
dude is very repressed, hes bisexual and kind of refuses to acknowledge that he likes men even a little bit unless he is forced to think about it or has feelings for -gasp- a man
probably genuinely likes krotchy and the whole franchise as a whole
UMMM …. I think he might age-regress in some form or manner if given the chance, he never had a childhood he saw other kids at school or on tv had so he desperately craves for it even if its in the back of his mind 
he definitely is autistic, no way of escaping that assigned neurodivergency
people like writing that he has ‘vibrant’ green eyes but , ngl i see them as very dull and tired, i dont think theres really much energy behind them
probably has a very limited palate for food, comes from a variety of causes
would not know what the fuck to do if given a genuine bit of kindness from someone, hes so used to being forced to pay back for something or for it to go wrong hed be speechless
has body image issues, he thinks hes too tall and too skinny… he hates his red hair and his nose and everything, would be very content on not being perceived by anyone because he is not what he thinks the world expects him to be 
UHHH THATS MOSTLY WHAT IS ON MY MIND AT THE MOMENT BUT I MIGHT TALK SOME MORE ABOUT HIM. also if anyone would be interested in specific headcanons i have about other dudes let me know (i also really dont mind if someone asks me about nsfw hcs because im a pest of an adult. lol)
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deidremercer · 7 months
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Oh yeah I might as well post this here for the 2 people who follow me and aren't already in discords with me,
I'm doing this:
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In an attempt to improve my art, I started out just doing it for the sake of drawing something almost every day but now I think I'm gonna save these for whenever I feel I've made an improvement. Each day I am doing a different OC and I'm trying to lean towards having each character in an outfit I wouldn't normally draw them in
#1 was done with Orpheus Valor from Paragons
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He was pretty fun to draw because I don't do masc characters very often. Also doing him for the underwear post was good because my GM, Gracie, and I had previously joked about him having scars where top surgery scars would be and just fully not being trans (there are other trans characters in Paragons I feel like we get to do a little bit of queerbaiting) so he was mauled by a bear.
#2 was done with Rabbit Leporidae from Thyrasylo.
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Rabbit is normally dressed in either a suit or a frilly dress despite the fact that her name stems from the fact that her original design was wearing a bunny suit. Her shirt is a gag stolen from Thrilling Intent, I think it's funny for the most powerful spellcaster in my world to be wearing a spelling bee shirt. This was also cool because I got to draw her tattoos. Neither of her previous tokens really showed them off much so I thought I could use this opportunity to draw them. They don't have any real significance as of right now but I might ascribe some to them later.
#3 is with Ivy Blackleaf from Thyrasylo
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Ivy is very fun to draw, this prompt made me finally design a logo for her Mom's cafe. I think I made it a little too close to the Olive Garden logo. Otherwise this was a fairly straightforward one, I did get to practice expression a little bit.
#4 with Roxanne De'Rulo from Crescent King
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Messy hair Roxie is really fun to draw. I forced myself to make this a full body to try and practice feet, I don't think they look all that great. Her hand is a little bit fucked up but I am glad that I drew it at all, practice is important. Otherwise the only thing of note with this one is that I lost the original TRIPWIRE band logo and Redbubble doesnt let you redownload your uploaded designs which kinda blows.
#5 with Jayden Valekrave from Paranoia and Evi Halloran from Macrocosmos
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The first one with a backdrop. This one was also voted on by a whole 37 people who took time out of their day to vote on my silly little Google form. Evi is in the background because she was the runner up and I probably wouldn't draw her anywhere else. I also think I didn't do justice to all the people who voted for Jayden. I super didn't have a reference pulled up and I am not skilled enough to draw from my imagination yet. Jayden's halberd, Dawnbreaker, having sunglasses on is the best part of this image. She is so silly. I also started drawing the eyes without having lineart on them here. Idk how I like it, we'll have to see.
#6 with Vernidaius Yxerei from Decent Into Avernus
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Compression kinda fucked this one up a bit, but the name of the game with this one was experimenting with brushes. I kinda tried to get some of the texture that I really love out of Jackson FrameDodge of The3rdWheel's work. Unfortunately I dont really know how to shade properly so it's kinda all over the place, and harder to see on the skin, oops. This one had a pose reference initially but the legs ended up being too difficult for me to do so I just sorta covered one of them. I also super forgot to draw Vermi's scales here. The line-less eyes are still something I'm on the fence about. I think this background is a good bit better than the previous one, the only part of the previous one that I really ended up liking is the clouds.
And that's everything I've done so far, tune in soon for the next one if you care.
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silentwillowwhisperer · 11 months
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I'm finally doing it.
Hi! Ummm... I'm pretty sure you've noticed the fact that I haven't posted the tattoo parlor thing for the past 2 weekends, but Imma do it now.
HUGE thanks to @multi-fandom-collection for their ideas!!! I'm gonna be using a few. (Some will come later though.)
I'm currently sketching out a tattoo for Lance, and I'll either do watercolor accents or just do the whole thing digitally.
By the way, here's a fun fact about me! I'd like to be a tattoo artist at some point. I have a mini-fantasy of opening a tattoo parlor that connects to a flower shop.
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Keith spent the next half hour asking Lance basic questions about why he wanted the tattoo, and what he had in mind.
As the other man spoke, Keith found himself drawn into his bubbly personality. Sure, he came off as rude and a bit cocky, but he could tell that Lance was a naturally friendly person.
Keith still ignored the various pick up lines hurled at him, though.
Apparently Lance had been wanting to do this for a while, and his friends had taken matters into their own hands. They placed a bet with him that they knew he would lose, but everyone knows that Lance can't back down from a bet.
As Lance mentioned something about getting his ears pierced, and Keith found himself imagining Lance like that. Hiding his blush, he made a mental note to ask Shiro about that. He was fine sticking needles in people, but it freaks him out to see it come out the other side. Whenever he gets a new piercing, he has to ask Shiro to get rid of the mirror. If he can't see what's happening, then he doesn't mind the pain too much.
Keith is derailed from his train of thought when he realizes that Lance is holding a phone in his face.
As he takes the device, he takes note of the Forget Me Nots and blue Hydrangeas dotting his phone case.
The image Lance is showing him is one of Keith's own designs. Its a purpleish-gray dagger surrounded by roses.
Shut up, Keith's allowed to be cliché sometimes.
"I noticed that you put a lot of flowers into your art. Could we maybe do something with that? I was thinking about going for a blue theme. I don't really mind what flowers you choose. And could we replace the dagger with a lion?"
Keith smiles. All his last client told him was that she wanted something 'aesthetic.' That's it. It makes Keith's job a whole lot easier when people actually know what they want tattooed onto their body for the rest of their damn life.
He grabs the nearest sketchbook and doodles a rough design of a lion.
"Like this?"
Lance nods excitedly. "Yes! Thank you! This is awesome."
It's so sincere that Keith decides to give Lance another shot. He holds out his hand.
"Hi. I'm Keith, and right now is gonna officially be our first time meeting. I have had no crappy first impressions of you, and as far as I know, you have no association to Allura."
Lance grins and returns the handshake. "Oh, thank goodness. I was honestly worried that you were gonna hate my guts for the rest of time. And my name is Lance. It's nice to meet you, Keith."
The both laugh for a second before Lance glances at the clock.
"Oh crap! I'm late to help Hunk out with his baking! See ya, Keith!"
Keith chuckles as he watches Lance race to his car through the window.
Thank goodness not all cute boys are jerks.
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
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been thinking about the golden eagle tattoos again, what's the deal with them anyway
this is very much not the most pressing mystery of the story, but i've been curious about them ( usually when i check the character entries at the end of each episode and remember they exist again ) and felt like work through my thoughts about them, so here
i don't think it's ever commented on in the text, and it's odd that the only ( explicit ) examples of them are these two, who don't have a whole lot directly to do with one another :
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i feel like in eva's case it adds a little flair to the core of her struggle as someone whose entire upbringing has forced her into a position where if she wants to achieve anything she needs to prove she's As Good As The Boys ( meanwhile kinzo and krauss quadruple down on the hypersexism at any given opportunity like they're playing for a high score ).
eva goes down this path of like, "statusquo-preserving rebellion", in that she's fundamentally acting out of the idea that "this isn't how you want to do things but i'm gonna make the same concept work for me instead". with the extra determination she needs to put in to be taken seriously, it makes sense that she needs to also at least performatively show a higher degree of commitment to the family and its tradition than her brothers ( who ostensibly just wear it on their clothes like everyone else ).
it seems like it acts as another outwards demonstration of her strongarming her desires against people who wouldn't possibly accept that without that commitment, to the point that the crest is on her clothes ( as is typical ) as well as her outfit being sleeveless to show off the tattoo more easily. "yes i'm keeping the ushiromiya name after marriage, look how dedicated i am to the principles of this family - they're literally right here on my skin".
in sayo's case it feels less like a choice and more like a brand, though. sayo is a servant, servants are furniture, furniture is property; they're all raised and essentially owned by the ushiromiyas until they leave to do their own thing once they're able.
if yoshiya has the same brand then we never see it, but to me it would make sense that he does, given their collective role in the story. the mark of the ushiromiyas being placed upon them has more of an implication of their identity as a cornerstone role in the family's history; as descendant a link to the one who gave the head the ability to rebuild the family in the first place, they are literally emblematic of the family, its status and prosperity, and its image.
it's even much more explicitly hidden in sayo's case, both in-universe and to the reader : we hardly ever see full-body shots of her and even if we did, the only reason the mark is visible on her full-body portrait is because it lines up with the silly belted front-gap in the skirt. it's like a little hint that's there to pick up on a bit if you're paying attention, but doesn't give the game away even if you do, and the characters themselves aren't going to be likely to be taking note of it given how most don't even take exceptional note of her in the first place.
obviously this still leaves a couple of odd questions, like "wait when / how exactly did sayo ( and yoshiya ) get the brand(s) in the first place", " eva's not the only one with a lot of family-and-status-minded strong will, and everyone else is much more heavily clothed; why couldn't there be more of them ?", and "does a very old-fashioned, traditionalist family really even have a particularly lax attitude towards people getting visible tattoos, without stigma for it ( something eva would probably be more likely to try and avoid ) ?", but none of the eagles are commented on even in narration ( to my recollection ), so i'm not too hung up them as anything more than symbology ( also i just don't have the cultural background to comment on the lattermost question, so i'm not inclined to touch that ).
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breelandwalker · 2 years
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hello hello! i saw you comment on a post about warding/enchanted tattoos, and i'd like to hear about your experience with them ( if ur comfortable of course :D). gonna get some later in life but i'm doing the researching and planning them now, and i love hearing about how others view the interaction between the body and magic!
also also, thx for all the work you do for the community <333
Sure thing! Mine isn't anything fancy - I have wings made of willow tree branches across my shoulders and there's a pentacle in the center. The pentacle is the enchanted part.
I've had my wings for many many years now and I decided to put the pentacle in the center about six or seven years ago. I was at a convention, there was a tattoo booth in the same room as a witch shop table, and I thought why the hell not. I picked up a couple things from the witch table, told the artist what I wanted to do, paid for the work, and sat for my ink.
While the artist was working the symbol into my back, I was focusing on getting past the initial ow-ow-fuck-ow (on the spine between the shoulderblades isn't the funnest place to get inked) and into that sort of floaty adrenaline space, which feels similar to the hyperfocused state I can sometimes enter when I'm doing certain kinds of spells. I had my accoutrements in hand - a crystal and an unlit candle - and I just set my eyes on the big pentacle on the tapestry behind the witch book, following the lines in the image as I felt them on my back. I kept trying to picture the usual images I use for warding and imbued each line with a different one, as I would layer my protections in a standard casting.
It took about an hour to finish the whole thing and I was sweating and shaking by the end, but I'm happy with it. And now my wards go with me everywhere I am, whether I'm wearing my warded jewelry or not.
I have plans for other tattoos and depending on how things go, I may enchant them as well. In this case, it was easier to focus because my back was to the artist and the room was noisy, so we weren't really talking. In different circumstances, I might pick out another method or work with an artist to create something specific.
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buckyismybicycle · 1 year
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CHAPTER 12 [AO3 Link]
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Body Image Issues, References to Depression/Anxiety/Eating Disorders/Alcohol Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Powers/Hockey, Team Bonding, Slow Burn, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Top Bucky Barnes, Pining, Idiots in Love, Miscommunications, Requited Unrequited Love, Slight Jealousy
<< Previous Chapter | Series Masterpost | Overall Masterpost
December 2013
Steve
After Bucky had opened up a bit about his holidays, Steve knew right away that he was determined to make Bucky smile this Christmas.
He’s never held back any stories about his own upbringing, sharing memories of his mom pretty freely. There will always be a dull ache, a hole in his heart, that never goes away, but she had been terminally ill for a while. Together, they made the most of their time, and she never wavered once. He’d gotten the tattoo for her, just before she passed, as if to show her that he’d always carry her with him. It’s the only tattoo he has. The only one he wanted.
But for Steve, it had only ever been just him and his mother. His heart breaks for Bucky, losing his whole family in one fell swoop, thinking how cruel that truly was.
Bucky, who is so lively and wears such a devastating smile everyday, when something like that would break most people.
When Bucky makes no move to pull away, Steve presses a kiss to his temple, his thumb idly stroking across Bucky’s shoulder.
“That’s them,” Bucky says in a voice so small that Steve’s not sure he even hears it right, the words completely random to him.
Bucky shifts then, so he can get his right arm out from between them, and brings his hand up to where Steve’s is, at his left shoulder. Bucky runs his forefinger over one of the clusters of stars across his shoulder – four lines from a trapezoidal shape. “This is my mom. Virgo.”
Oh.
The realization hits Steve like a freight train. The four constellations on Bucky’s shoulder – the family he’s lost: his mom, his dad, his sister…
“My dad,” Bucky continues, clearing his throat a bit as his finger moves to the long, slim tattoo next. “Taurus.”
“Becs. Such a Capricorn,” Bucky huffs with a bit of a sad laugh as he traces the closed tattoo, in a near triangular-heart shape. “I never really believed all that horoscope stuff, you know? But I wanted to have them with me, and my artist had suggested looking into some symbolism… just – I went down a rabbit hole.”
“They’re really beautiful, Buck,” he assures. And they are. The constellations may be simple in design, but the artist had done a beautiful job of incorporating colours that reminded Steve of space. “S’like you got a whole galaxy here.”
He keeps running his thumb along Bucky’s shoulder where the tattoos sit. Bucky had purposely skipped over the fourth one, but if Steve had to guess, it would be for whatever astrological sign Bucky is.
“Yeah, I’m happy with how it turned out,” Bucky gushed, a little light returning to his voice. “And when I read about ‘em, they were all pretty spot on, which made me kinda laugh and it just… seemed right.”
“Oh?” Steve asks, hoping Bucky doesn’t shut down on him again. “How so?”
“The one I’m gonna remember forever is the one for Becs. Capricorns are ambitious, determined, strong… Loyal and supportive of their loved ones. Pragmatic. Relentless.” Bucky snorts at the last word, his lips twitching in a smile. “That was Becs to a T. But they all made sense. Or, I don’t know, maybe I wanted to fall for something. Believe in something.”
Steve hums softly, turning Bucky’s words over in his mind as his fingers trace along the last constellation.
“They’re all Earth signs,” Bucky continues, as if focusing his attention on astrology will help keep his emotions in line. “Means they all get along with each other. I’m the only Water sign.”
There’s an unspoken sadness to the line, as if Bucky thinks of himself as an outsider in his own family, and it makes Steve wrap around him that much tighter.
“Which sign are you?” Steve asks, in an attempt to keep Bucky talking.
“...Pisces,” Bucky answers, lacking the enthusiasm he had for the other signs. “Most days I just feel like a fish outta water.”
December starts off with a new teammate, an overtime loss, a win, another overtime loss and a giant snow storm.
Valeri Nichushkin, who had been selected by the Stars in the first round that year, had been struggling with injury during camp and had only just been taken off the injury list to join them. They’d joked that he sure had some timing, coming out with the snow.
It was then that Steve found out Bucky knew how to speak Russian. Nichushkin lights up at this fact, almost as brightly as Steve. Almost.
Bucky was a bit shy about it, stumbling a few times, but Nichushkin appreciated it nonetheless, that much was obvious.
“Does he wish he waited ‘til it was warmer to travel with us?” Morita jokes as they step off the plane in Canada.
Bucky and Nichushkin go back and forth a bit before Bucky laughs. “He says it’s colder in Russia, you wimp!”
The guys laugh around him, and Steve tugs his jacket across himself tighter.
Toronto was cold. It had been 2°C/35.6°F that day, calling for beanies and scarves atop their game day suits. Bucky had looked adorable with his nose a little red from the winds, and Steve had to nearly bite his tongue off to stop himself from saying anything.
They didn’t win, but Nichushkin gets his first point in the form of an assist. He’s still proud of them – they couldn’t have done anything differently. Sometimes, you give it your all and play a near perfect game but you get outplayed.
Between the force of Nazem Kadri, the skill of Phil Kessel and the annoying relentlessness of James Van Riemsdyk in front of the net, it was hard fought. Still, at least they picked up one out of the possible two points for just bringing it into overtime.
After the loss, the team was tired, but Fury and Coulson had announced that instead of staying for the night like they’d originally planned, they would be trying to head home instead.
“Because of the major storm moving in, we expect travel to be delayed, so best to try and get ahead of it now. We know you’re tired, but it’s gonna beat sleeping at the airport tomorrow, trust me,” Coulson announces, in his no-nonsense voice.
Steve tries not to groan at the thought, watching his team struggle to do the same.
“Now hit the showers, and we’ll see you back on the bus.” With a nod, Coulson leaves the dressing room and then the groaning starts.
Steve hears Ward from across the room. “Are you fucking serious?”
“I ain’t sleepin’ in an airport,” Clint announces, popping up from the bench to snag a shower first.
Steve listens as Bucky speaks with Nichushkin, explaining their predicament.
“No fun,” Nichushkin says in heavily accented English. Bucky huffs a laugh.
“Yeah, that’s right, pal. No fun at all.” Bucky proceeds to speak a few more words in Russian, and Nichushkin nods, stripping down for a shower as well.
Steve sees in that moment, a crystal clear image of Bucky being an older brother – watching over his sister, guiding her, joking with her, and his heart aches.
Bucky
His muscles were protesting every step after that game. The idea of flying instead of taking an ice bath and then face planting into a bed was absolutely horrific, but he always does his best to stay positive for Steve. Team morale is nearly always at the top of Steve’s priority list and if there’s one less person for him to worry about, Bucky figures it helps. So he sucks it up, slaps a smile on his face and pretends like he doesn’t want to collapse on the floor right then and there.
They pile onto the bus, and the airport seems a million miles away. Half the team already looks asleep (or dead, it’s hard to tell right now). Steve takes the lead, since he usually takes the window seat, and Bucky just shuffles along behind him.
There’s jokes made about how Valeri has imprinted on him like a dukling, but the truth is that Bucky… enjoys it. He likes being able to support someone, even if it’s been ages since he’s conversed in Russian. It makes him miss his mom, and he could swear the tattoo on his shoulder tingles, like a reminder of what he’s lost.
Valeri takes a seat across the aisle, beside Dugan who’s already passed out against the window.
Bucky tries to stretch while he still can, wiggling in his seat until it’s bearable, and before he even leans back, Steve is out like a light. Bucky saves Steve’s phone, precariously balanced in his semi-opened hand, placing it on the seat between Steve’s legs instead. He folds up his own sweater to tuck between Steve’s head and the window.
When Steve rouses, he simply makes a soft shushing noise, and Steve rests his head like he was meant to. Something in Bucky’s heart twists with the realization that Steve’s letting Bucky take care of him.
Bucky just never realized how much he wanted to.
Coulson had been right, of course. Even as they landed, they could see the storm moving in with the skies sheet-white and wind howling.
“Is it as cold as Russia yet?!” Morita hollers as he tucks his chin down, blinking in the winds.
Bucky can’t even manage a laugh, the air cold enough to dry out his mouth in a second. He’s not new to bad winters, and even though there’s ice and sleet, it’s not the worst he’s been in. Shouldering his bag, he twitches his nose and walks with Steve, trying not to think about how adorable a hulking man like Steve can be as the pompom of his beanie bobs with each step.
“Aren’t you from Boston?” Bucky teases with a soft elbow bump.
“I ain’t ever been good with the cold,” Steve replies with a shiver. “Here I thought Dallas was supposed to be sunshine and rainbows.”
Bucky smirks as Steve tries his remote car starter the moment they’re in the parking lot. When they’re in the pre-warmed vehicle, Steve takes his hat off, shaking the loose snow off of it, flicking his hair of the built up condensation.Bucky does the same, his hair having gathered significantly more snow in it.
Steve chuckles at him, and Bucky just smiles back.
“It’s good to be home,” Steve says, pulling out of the lot.
Home.
“Yeah,” Bucky agrees easily.
Practice gets cancelled the next morning as the conditions worsened overnight, and Bucky finds himself a little lost, if he’s honest.
He stays in bed for a while, stretching out. His body carries that pleasant ache from last game, but also the stiffness of travelling right after. Eventually, he drags himself out of bed only because his stomach rumbles, and he has his late start to the day.
He texts Steve, just to bother him and ask what he’s going to do now that his routine is broken, and then makes himself a cup of coffee and an omelet.
There’s no text back from Steve after he’s done breakfast, which leaves Bucky having to resist the urge to just bang on Steve’s door and demand attention.
They’re not –
They’re not anything. They’re friends, good friends at that, who… just occasionally get each other off. Yeah.
Steve already has to deal with him every single day, surely Bucky can entertain himself for just one day without him.
As if the universe had heard his turmoil, he gets a text from Valeri asking him a bit more about the city. Bucky looks out the window. The blanket of sleet and flurries falling down aren’t exactly inviting. He tells Valeri this, after talking a bit more about his favourite places so far. He tells him about the best times to go shopping and the most random coffee shops to go into where it’s quieter.
“Coffee close?”
“Yeah – you wanna go? I can show you.”
“If you not scare of cold like team.”
Bucky smiles at the text, and tells Valeri that he’ll be at his place soon. The nice thing was that Valeri, like most of the team, lived nearby, so it only takes a few moments for him to shower, dress and hop in his car to go pick up his teammate.
It feels weird to be the one driving, and he realizes how much he wants to be to Valeri what Steve was for him when he first arrived. The city had felt so much warmer when Steve had offered all these things – offered to stay by Bucky’s side – and made him feel less alone.
Valeri is already waiting outside his building when Bucky pulls up, and despite the snow along his tuque and shoulders, he’s smiling widely, waving as Bucky stops.
It’s easy with Valeri. There’s an understanding of being new to the team, new to the city, and for Valeri, new to the language. Bucky explains that his mother had been Russian, and had been adamant on teaching him since he was in the womb, but he hasn’t had anyone to practice with in some time. Valeri either doesn’t notice the past tense, or doesn’t want to pry, but Bucky is grateful either way.
They reach an unspoken sort of compromise, where Bucky will speak in Russian if he wants to, and Valeri responds only in English. He tries not to give that feeling of longing the spotlight right now, trying to associate this only with the fond memories he has of his family.
Valeri talks about his time in the KHL, about moving from Chelyabinsk to Moscow, and about how he nearly missed his chance at the NHL. Thankfully, the two-year contract he signed with Dynamo Moscow had been terminated conditionally, giving him the chance to play in the League, or return to Dynamo if he failed to make the NHL team.
Bucky watches Valeri’s face light up when he talks about how the Stars took a chance on him, how blown away he was to be selected in the first round, even if it was tenth overall. Even though Bucky’s only three years older, he sees the kid in Valeri – that childlike excitement from “making it in the big leagues”.
He’d almost had that. If it hadn’t followed so closely after his family’s death, he’s sure he would have felt that way too. Listening to Valeri’s story though, almost feels like sharing that moment with him, reliving it himself.
“But pick you second! And you win Cup!” Valeri says, in that excited tone that Bucky wants to surround himself with. It’s infectious, and it makes Bucky smile in return.
“Yeah, and we’re gonna do it again,” Bucky replies with a grin.
“Yes, we win,” Valeri agrees.
After loitering in the coffee shop for a good amount of time, he thinks of something. Checking on his phone, he smiles when he finds what he wants. ‘Wanna get outta the cold for real?”
Steve
He’d slept in way past what he had intended. Groaning as he stretches, he checks his phone and takes a minute to respond to Bucky before doing anything else.
He’s not really sure what he’ll do with the day. The first thought he’d had was to, of course, see if Bucky wanted to do something, but thankfully his brain is just awake enough for him to reign in the urge. The last thing he wants is to suffocate Bucky and the delicate balance they have.
He tries not to look at the empty space around him in bed, tries not to think about how Bucky belongs here and how good he’d look wrapped around Steve in the morning.
Stop.
Bucky doesn’t reply, and Steve thinks nothing of it, until he’s just clicking around on Instagram. He hadn’t quite connected that nicha43 was Valeri, but it all falls into place when he sees the caption, the location, the verified symbol.
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[Image: An instagram photo posted by username nicha34, tagged Russian Banya with he caption: Bucky “Best Guy” Barnes]
He has no idea where they even are, but searches it out of curiosity.
A Russian banya (ба́ня) has a special room, where a large amount of hot steam is created with the help of water and hot air. A classic Russian banya is heated with firewood, but modern versions might use electric heat as well. Inside the banya, which is usually built of wood, there are wide wooden benches along the walls. They are built up one above the other like steps. You can sit or lay on the benches. The higher up the bench the hotter the air is. Once someone has warmed up well enough, he or she leaves the steam room (it is called the парна́я in Russian) and dips into a pool of cold water. You can also pour water over yourself from a tub (уша́т), while in Siberia it's common to walk right out of the steam room and jump into the snow.
A sauna. Steve is well aware that saunas are popular amongst them, the steam helping relax their overworked muscles, so it seems like nothing.
Except the fact that Bucky is sitting somewhere in the city, with nothing but a towel, skin glistening with sweat, and it’s with Valeri Nichushkin.
Steve definitely hadn’t thought of being jealous, but now he supposes that Valeri and Bucky had gotten along right off the bat. There was an obvious connection the moment the first word of Russian left Bucky’s mouth.
His mind wanders off, thinking a little too hard about how well they go together. Valeri, a little taller and Bucky, a little wider, both with lopsided smirks when they feel playful.
After who knows how long, he looks back to his phone, forgetting what he’d been doing.
Friends go to the banya with a special purpose in mind. It’s considered that the banya atmosphere brings people closer together, allowing them to communicate and interact on a more common level. Russians don't spend all their time in the parnaya (парна́я is a room with hot wet steam). During a break they walk out to another room which is called predbannik (предба́нник is a room before the steam room). Usually, that room has a large long table and a few benches. In the predbannik, people take a break from the hot temperature and relax, drink aroma tea or special herbal tea, have conversations about life and share their ideas or beliefs to each other.
Steve closes the page, swipes all of his app closed, and forgets to like Valeri’s picture like he probably should’ve.
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vernon-s-whore · 2 years
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The Horangification of Us /ᐠ=ᆽ=ᐟ \
Hoshi x reader (no pronouns are mentioned but it is fem leaning)
warnings: no warnings really, there is nudity but not sex this is just something fluffy/non-sexual fun, there is discussion about body image and stretch marks, nothing serious but still adding it as a warning
genre: fluff-ish, slice of life, established relationship, reader is a poc because yes
a/n: i see a lot of smut where stretch marks are seen as sexy so i ended up writing some fluff where they're seen as cool
┍————-————-————-/ᐠ。ꞈ。ᐟ\————-————-————┑
"You should let me fill in on those," Hoshi remarks as you pull on a tank top, fixated on the white lines circling around your hips and waist, stark against the otherwise warm brown skin.
"Fill in on what?" You tug down the clothes to cover yourself fully.
"The stretch marks," he says, rising from the bed, "Will turn you into a tiger."
You scoff, "Really? Your tiger agenda has extended to me?"
He nods, completely nonplussed why you weren't taking him seriously, "I think you'll look really hot. And besides you already look hot with them, think of it as a temporary tattoo." He smiles endearingly, scrunching his eyes up.
"So what are you gonna do map out every stretch mark on my body?" You sit next to him, considering his idea.
"If you let me," he shrugs. "You can do it to me too if you want."
"Do you even have stretch marks?" you raise an eyebrow.
"Just because it gets covered up by makeup doesn't mean i don't have them," he chuckles lightly. "Where's your eyeliner, let's get started." He gets off the bed, rubbing his palms excitedly.
He rummages around your table, poking around in your bag before finding an eyeliner tucked between your books.
"You will buy me a new one after this," you demand, knowing your eyeliner will be finished by the time Soonyoung is done with his artistic explorations.
He nods, smiling because of your compliance.
"C'mon clothes off now quick!" he hurries you, tugging at the tank top and pyjamas you wore. You sit up, pulling off your tank top, tossing it onto your bedside table.
"Lie back down, i need to focus on this," he instructs, holding the eyeliner pen like it is a tattoo needle.
"You're weirdly invested in this," you giggle. "The horangification of us."
"Speak for yourself, i've been a tiger for years," he scoffs, pushing you back onto the mattress, running a palm down your side, tracing his scattered canvas. The stretch marks almost cradle you, spreading like shaky branches along your hip bones, crawling up your waist. He touches down the first stroke of the liner starting from your hip bone. He's not much of an artist but he likes what he is accomplishing, the black strokes blooming under the tip of his pen.
It tickles a little and you need a suppress your laughs because everytime his canvas is disturbed he gives you the cutest of frowns, trying and failing to look threatening.
"I'm almost done with the front you need to roll back now," he says, tracing the drying lines with almost reverent fingers.
"Do i look pretty?" You ask him on a whim, startled at the sincerity with which he is doing his work.
"The prettiest," he whispers, smiling. You sit up and give him a kiss on the lips before rolling over.
"You need to take off your pants," he says, like a professional tattoo artist, all business save for the hand which traces your spine down to the small of your back.
"Mhmm," you reply, shimmying out of your pyjamas, which he helps you tug off. You're slightly embarrassed being buck-naked in front of him but the whole setting feels far from sexual. Well, not too far but yeah.
He gets back to work, continuing his tracery of stripes along the small of your back, the dimples at the bottom of your spine down to the curve of your ass where most of the stretch marks end. He scrambles to the other side of the bed determined to finish his "art" quickly, tongue sticking between his teeth the way it did whenever he was concentrating hard on his work. You had a lot more stretch marks on this side, the linework getting more delicate the closer he got to your spine. Despite his unsteady hand, he perseveres, satisfied with how the stripes are coming out.
He blows on the liner to dry it up quickly and you flinch at the unexpected air.
"Sorry, sorry," he giggles. "It's a little wet."
You grimace at him, shaking your head against the pillow, "What the fuck did i agree to?"
"Sorryyy," Hoshi pinches you gently. "Turn over now."
You do as he asks, thoroughly enjoying the attention even if you won't admit it to his face and he finishes the final tracery within two minutes. Record time.
"Okay now open your legs," he says.
"What-" You snap your legs close on reflex.
"What? You said you would let me draw on you," he slips between your legs, opening them around his waist, settling in between.
"Ah i thought you would just do these," you point to your abdomen.
"I was looking forward to these though," he runs a hand along your thigh, stopping below your crotch. You feel a little stroke of heat spark in you but stamp it down.
"Do whatever you want," you sigh, throwing an arm over your face and lying back down, feeling the cold tip of your eyeliner trace on the insides of your thighs, his hands pulling and kneading, bringing you unexpected relief.
"Okay i'm done," he says after ten minutes. You have almost dozed off; he has to shake you awake to admire his work.
You look down, seeing the full tracery of black, truly an uncanny resemblance to tiger stripes. No wonder Soonyoung was being downright obsessive.
"Give it to me, i want us to match," you hold out your hand for the eyeliner pen.
"I knew you would come around," he leans in, kissing your temple, slipping the pen into your palm.
"Here," he strips himself of his own tank top. "I have them on my back, near the bottom."
He turns around and you see the pinkish lines clearly for the first time against his pale skin.
"You know, they actually look cool," you say. "You shouldn't cover it up with makeup, your fans would probably like them."
"They might jump to other, not favourable conclusions," he grimaces. "The industry isn't built for scars and growing pains."
You nod, considering his point of view too. He was right, the Kpop industry relied heavily on visuals. And scars and stretch marks simply don't have a place in there yet.
"I'm starting then," you tell him, shifting closer, tracing out all his marks. He really doesn't have too many.
"Any other places for your horangification?" You ask him, putting the cap on your pen.
He nods, tugging off his sweats, leaving him naked as well.
"Look here," he says, pointing to faint marks along his v-line. "I started getting these when i was working out, i think."
"That's actually highkey hot," you say biting the inside of your cheek to stop from giggling. Your hand visibly shakes, drawing so close to his crotch but you reach his navel quickly, where the last of the stretch marks are.
"We really match," he sighs, pulling you onto his lap, hands cupping the drawings on your hips. "I want photos."
You giggle, kissing him gently, "We can click photos."
"I want photos of us in front of the mirror," he says with a pout, staring up at you with the most adorable eyes.
"We can take as many photos as you want," you card your fingers through his hair, giving him another little kiss.
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