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sepublic · 4 years

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The Season Finale Promo...!

New promo! The Season Finale promo, my heart can NOT take this…!

We get our very traumatic flashback to Eda’s transformation… Then we have a close-up shot of an Emperor’s Guard doing the drums! It’s probably a parade making a big announcement that YO, Eda the Owl Lady, the allegedly most powerful Witch on the Boiling Isles, has fallen to Emperor Belos! That’s right people if you think you had a chance against him before, well- Not anymore! Considering how young his reign is, Belos is 100% taking any chance to solidify and make it look good.

We see the book from the previous image, and I was right! It’s Belos! We get some little snippets of text, I can catch, “Belos…”, “The Savage Ages”, “from that and his past remains [unknown]”, “Savage Ages caused”, and “many people have proved willing to”… Obviously it’s making a big deal what an allegedly benevolent civilizer he is, how nobody knows where Belos came from (of course), and that if I had to guess, many were willing to fall in line with his Coven System! While I have no doubt that Belos had his fair share of voluntary supporters, I also wonder about, you know… Just how many WEREN’T in line. We also see him surrounded by flame, which further alludes to the fire in his throne room, as well as his implied genocides and executions!

We have Eda being released from Lilith’s bubble into the throne room of Belos, likely our first scene looking back at her since Agony of a Witch… And then we have King warning Luz against her crusade against Belos! We have a better look at the book cover, it’s called “The unauthorized Boiling Isles history,” yet it has the Emperor’s Coven symbol behind it? Did the EC spread its propaganda as having been the always-hidden truth, or is this someone basically taking the symbol of the EC and slapping a title over that screams, “Yeah these guys are SKETCHY, here’s why!”

The author’s name has been faded out, which only makes me more curious, but it’s also possible this won’t matter! There are no doubt many of who have defied him in the past and died… Regardless, we also get our code at the bottom of the cover, which- Whoops! It’s Blood, I guessed, you guessed it, we ALL guessed it! It’s Lilith, she’s the betrayal of blood.

NOW we have a shot of Belos with blue eyes, and I think these are his ‘regular’ eyes, because we can actually see his pupils (instead of them being drowned-out amidst the energy of a palisman’s bile)! His eyes are IDENTICAL to those of an Emperor’s Guard, which really makes me wonder if they’re the same species as him, or homunculu off-shoots made in his image? Regular Boiling Isles residents transformed by Belos’ brand to fit his ideal mold as magic-less enforcers? Or for all we know he stole the eyes of some poor Emperor’s Guard to replace his own… THAT would be a freaky thought, because…

We see him in what could be another section of his castle (there seems to be some weird, organic thing in the bottom-left corner), manifesting behind Luz initially as some… Mixed-up blob version of himself that properly solidifies into his ACTUAL intended shape! This practically confirms for me that Belos’ body isn’t all that well put-together, but there’s at least some benefit to this perhaps? Mostly it seems to be a hindrance to him. You know, I wonder if there’s some symbolism about a character who forces people to fit into a specific mold, having to do the same literally with his own deteriorating body…

What’s interesting is that he’s glowing RED when he manifests behind Luz, who KNOWS she’s messed up! Is this his natural spell-color, does this come from the Titan or some other previous victim? Regardless, the way he seems to form from the floor, this makes me wonder if the castle is essentially just another extension of him (as seen with his “I will know” line from earlier), and that because it’s a part of Belos, his body can just… disseminate within the structure and reassemble itself as it pleases!

His VA calls him ‘omnipotent’, I have to wonder if this is the result of his connection to the Titan’s Heart, and possibly the rest of the Boiling Isles; Like he can form ANYWHERE from the earth, which when coupled with my speculation about the growing limbs… It makes me wonder if Belos is basically destroying his body and constantly recreating/growing it from the ground-up to ‘teleport’! Pretty metal…

We have Luz not caring about Belos’ status, and GOOD FOR HER! She’s always had misguided optimism sure, but she’s also been someone who will take on the odds when she KNOWS what she’s doing is right! I love that defiant confidence, that she’ll give people space and room and be kind and gentle, but when it gets down to it she’s tougher than anyone else! You go, girl! I just… WANT her to go apeshit, Luz deserves it just this once, to utterly wreck her enemies!

Then we have Luz hiding as the same dude who reported on the Greater Basilisk attacks is on some orbs, announcing stuff –possibly Eda’s capture, Luz’s arrest warrant, a new big announcement by Belos for the next stage of his plan- and I have to wonder if Luz has a Wanted Poster now as well. Granted, if she did it’s a bit weird that the Emperor’s Coven didn’t bother capturing her back when she was RIGHT there at the end of Agony of a Witch… But at the same time, Luz roaming about might come as an alarm especially if she’s trying to sneak somewhere, so we’ll see.

We see Lilith by herself, holding Eda’s staff without Owlbert... But I think we see Owlbert in her other hand? I guess this confirms she’s okay, but it seems the throne room doors are closing on her, leaving her alone. I have to wonder if Belos is essentially telling her to ‘stay out of this’ while he does his own thing, and perhaps being in the same room with Owlbert is going to make Lilith have an epiphany... I HOPE at least...

We have a shot of Gus and Willow in their casual outfits but with their school cowls draped on, so I presume there’s been a sudden call for a town meeting by the Emperor’s Guard for an announcement! We can see Boscha’s green-haired friend, another Hexside student from the Oracle track (they were BOTH on the field trip to Belos’ castle), and what even appears to be the Lead Demon Hunter! I wonder how the Demon Hunters feel about the Coven System, if they were once Wild Witches and technically were when they debuted, but then they had to be bound to a coven after Willow destroyed their livelihood!

Then we have a tapestry of Belos being torn down, possibly by Eda while she’s messing around in her beast-form! Next is a shot of Eda’s portal to the human world opening up in a dungeon, which could be the conformatorium, but it could also be another section of Belos’ castle… And this WORRIES me, because. What if someone took Eda’s key and is banishing Luz into the human realm, like I feared- And THIS is our season finale cliffhanger!? On the bright side we’ll likely get a quick resolution on the whole Creepy Luz subplot, but…

…Honestly I do NOT want this girl separated from her family again! Even if it’s Eda turning back and thanking Luz for rescuing her, but still having to save her apprentice again as she sends Luz to the human world! Dana PLEASE…!

And then we have Luz and King looking justifiably wrathful as Luz asks someone that is apparently in some crystalline-magic prison, “Where’s Eda?!” And she is PISSED, do NOT mess with this girl, you go for it! Go get ‘em! I have to wonder if she’s defeated Lilith or some random Emperor’s Guard/Witch, maybe even Kikimora or Warden Wrath? We still have two shots of them from the Season 1B trailer that haven’t debuted yet!

…Either way my heart can NOT take this, so bring it OOOONNNN!!!!!

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house luz #luz noceda #the owl house belos #emperor belos #the owl house lilith #lilith clawthorne #the owl house eda #edalyn clawthorne #speculation #analysis

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

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IV. The First Taste*

Summary: NSFW Chapter. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader A/N: Modern AU, Teacher reader, Dad/Baker Steve… lots of pining, slow burn, romance. Enjoy!

Slow Like Honey Masterpost

Since you kissed Steve Rogers in your classroom on that Thursday afternoon, you’ve kissed him again and again after each meeting. It’s been precisely two more lunch dates, one more dinner date, and one long walk in the park on his day off before he was suddenly called in for an emergency pastry situation. That’s five kisses. Five dates. Five moments you lie in bed and think about while trying desperately not to scream.

You scold yourself every time because a part of you is embarrassed that you’re so—thirsty! But good God, the man is a tall glass of water you want to drown in. It’s been two stupid years since you’ve kissed anyone, and when you’re in bed at night, you hope that it’s not your lack of practice that’s been keeping him from moving forward.

You can’t be that bad, right? … Right?

But it’s always you who initiates, and Steve always keeps it short and sweet. Once, you felt the slightest flick of his tongue against your bottom lip, but then as quickly as he’d done it, he pulled away.

Grumbling, you press your pillow over your face and punch it a couple of times before settling back down into bed. You peer at the back of your hand in the darkness of your room and contemplate on trying it just like you used to when you were a kid. God, this feels stupid.

Tomorrow, you’ll just ask. Because you’re both adults and because he was your… boyfriend. You smother yourself with the pillow again, because that was an even more mortifying thought than making out with your own hand.

In the morning you go for a jog and make yourself a quick protein and fruit shake breakfast afterward. Then you head to the pool for about an hour before coming back home. Everything is quiet, and the world is peaceful, now that you don’t have the lives of twenty-five children hovering over your every waking moment. You shower and lie down on the couch before turning on a baking show. Looking around, you survey your apartment. It is so damn barren and cream-colored. You’re not strong nor brave enough to go get a bunch of furniture by yourself and start arranging.

Sighing, you settle on an easier task: maybe today you’ll go buy some houseplants.

Steve texts you a picture of a cheesecake around noon as you’re spraying water into the soil of two new succulents and a hanging fern. You show him your fern, placing your hand next to it for size reference. The messages between you are short and brief, since you see each other pretty often.

Summer break unravels you a little bit, but you’ll be damned if you let your new (very adult) boyfriend know. You play video games and browse the internet with a bottle of wine on the weekends, and your summer is just a giant weekend. It’s almost troubling, really, because every summer you have to either find a new hobby to keep yourself entertained.

Last year you took up rock-climbing and baked a lot… but with Steve around, that just seemed like a good way to get laughed at. And of course, the summer before that one was spent moving out of your ex’s apartment and trying to keep your head above water. You shudder at the thought. If it wasn’t for the very fortuitous call back from your current workplace, you would have probably had to move back home or continued spiraling into credit-card debt.

You text Steve, asking him to suggest a new hobby to you.

Right away, he responds and recommends that you join his watercolor session at the bakery:

I’m teaching a two-hour workshop Sunday after we close. The sign up sheet is already full but… it helps knowing the teacher personally doesn’t it? I do a ceramics one in the winter, too!

You blink.

Steve… I can only draw if I invoke the spirit of Other Steve from Blue’s Clues.

Oh perfect, now he’s calling.

“Yes?” You answer. His laughter is ringing on the other line.

“Hey! Blue’s Clues is an excellent show! And, I gotta admit, that guy can really draw.”

You huff and sputter at him, “Stop messin’ with me. Last year I baked a lot but now that you’re here… I really need a new hobby- a doable hobby!”

He chuckles again before his voice grows quieter. Bossa nova plays in the background, and the coffee grinder is buzzing intensely. “Oh honey,” He whispers, and you’re nearly gasping at the way his voice sounds—low, deliberate—like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Come to the workshop, won’t ya? It’s just a beginner’s thing. I think you’ll really like it. For me?”

The quick-draw refusal you were so sure you could unholster on time is nowhere to be found, not with him asking you so sweetly like that. You grouse jokingly and accept, warning him that if he laughs at your unskilled hand, you’ll never take his advice again.

“Me? Laugh at you? Never, sweetheart. I can’t believe you would think that of me.”

“Oh hush, Steven.”

A puff of air escapes him and everything grows quiet. Steve mutters something you can’t quite make out, and then, even louder than before, the coffee grinder screeches. “Everything okay?” You ask, worried.

“Yeah. Um, yeah. Everything’s good.”

You’re suddenly reminded of the way he pulls away after a good night kiss and reach to unholster that gun.

“Hey—uh wha—why do you--- um.” What the hell is the right way to ask this question? Why have our tongues not fought for dominance? Why haven’t both my hands gotten lost in the front of your button-up shirt? Why have you not pressed your hard, broad chest against me?

Maybe you’ve been reading too much Cosmo or Buzzfeed Relationships in your quest to find the right answers.

“Huh?” Steve asks. “What’s that?”

You holster the gun.

“Nothing! Ha! I’ll see you Sunday!”

“Okay, hon… See you then. Don’t be nervous! It’ll be great!”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you place your phone on the coffee table. Crisis averted. Then, you search for basic video tutorials on watercolors as well as tips for beginning artists on your phone before casting it to the T.V. It’s entirely baffling and when you pick up a pencil and try to draw your new succulent on a nearby notepad, the voice coming through the speaker sternly states that you should “make marks deliberately-- not fiddling about with sketchy, hairy lines like a fuzzy caterpillar!”

What you’ve been working on looks exactly like a fuzzy caterpillar, and your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

So you try again, erasing furiously before attempting those “deliberate” lines. After nearly fifteen minutes, you sit back and peer at your creations.

“Jesus.”

Your smooth, plump, glossy plant looks like one of those inflatable tubes outside of an auto dealership in the middle of deflating.

You feel deflated, too.

Over your dinner table is a corkboard of photos and postcards, and you walk over to snag Steve’s thank you card from its place in the corner. You study his technique and peer at the delicate forest green line of each stem- just a single, continuous stroke. The petals seem to be merely blobs of color if you’re looking closely, and where the flowers touch, sometimes the pigments bleed over each other.

No, it’s not a perfect thing. But it is gorgeous, still.

So, you try… again. This time, you tear off the deflated succulent drawing and place it on your coffee table in the left corner. Just for good luck, you chant “Steve, Steve, Steve!” as if he’s Beetlejuice, and get to work. Half your brain is thinking of the striped green shirt and oversized crayon, and the other half is thinking of a striped blue shirt and oversized pecs. Either way, both of them could art.

You’ve drawn all year for your students- especially your ESL kids who struggled with codeswitching. Sometimes, when they were unable to find the right word, or you were, you’d draw a picture instead. According to twenty-five first graders, you were an amazing artist, so… what the hell!

Ten minutes later, you tear off the top of the notepad and set it down next to its brother.

The two are stark differences, and your second one is little bit better. You’re almost proud of it—smooth flowing lines, rounded edges, and even a flat plane of the table to ground the pot.

Sitting back, you click around some more, making sure to choose videos that are most helpful to your current ability. Those speed-up painting videos were hella tempting, but you do not want to get lost in the rabbit hole.

Sunday is two days away. At the very least, you were going to be able to draw a damn good succulent.

---

You come in early to help him close before the workshop begins. Cap&Co. closes on Sundays right at six, and the workshop would start half an hour later.

The baristas say hello to you and smile, and you do the same back before you grab a rag and spray a counter down. The leftover pastries and sandwiches are placed on a tray and put in the middle of the room, where the tables and chairs have been pushed together by Steve.

“Snacks!” He smiles, “For the students.”

“Does that make me your student too?” You tease, finding the situation a bit ironic.

He winks at you before hanging up his apron. Between the four of you and the work that’s left, it’s quickly finished in the next ten minutes and the employees leave, wishing you a good night as they go.

Steve lets you choose the music for the night as he brightens the lights, and you randomly scroll through the shop’s selection before picking an old album you used to like as a younger girl—Fiona Apple’s 1996 Tidal. Right away, the singer’s brassy voice catches his attention.

“Who is this?” He asks excitedly, “I think I heard her on the radio the other day!”

You tell him, and he nods along to the music as he sets out sheets of watercolor paper clipped neatly on boards. Then he lays out five travel-sized round palettes already filled with an array of colors. By the time all the paintbrushes are next to each clipboard, people are starting to arrive and Steve is back and forth saying hello and giving hugs. You finish the end of the preparation and fill up heavy mason jars with water and set them at each spot. Then, you take your seat with a cake pop and eagerly and watch him lead the demonstration.

“Thanks for coming, everyone!” He smiles widely at the end of the table. “Good to see some of you again!”

This must be what your students feel like, you think—you hope, because you are absolutely enthralled with everything that pours from his mouth. Even the way he stumbles over his words fascinates you, and the fact that he is so animated and engaged makes you love it even more.

Steve tells the group that he’ll demonstrate for about twenty-five minutes before everyone can start either trying out various techniques, or if they’ve done it before, can begin on painting whatever they please and he’ll come around to offer help. He suggests the plants for a nice still life, or other knick-knacks around the shop. Some returning students have even brought their own objects and you want to pinch yourself because you could have brought your succulent!

Then, he begins, showing you the right way to load the paintbrush with paint and water, and how water tension is so important to the medium. He shows you the difference between a wet brush and a dry brush. He shows you how to layer the colors. Your brain can hardly keep up with your eyes as they enthusiastically soak up the colors over his paper and the way his wrist moves easily back and forth from the mason jar where he cleans the bristles, to the palette saturated with pigment, to the paper where strokes are being placed.

“Here is a quick and easy way to make a flower.”

Steve loads a fat brush with water and pulls two shades of orange onto the white of the palette. In one swift motion, he streaks a daub of it onto the paper, letting the water gather more heavily on one side.

“We’ll let that dry for just a second— but we can do this for now.” He presses the tip of the brush into a tiny bit of red and makes another mark similar to the first one. The edges of the paint that touches leaks into each other, creating a tiny blossom of red into the first petal.

“This is what will happen when your paint is still wet—but that’s okay!” He makes two more petals—slightly more yellow than the last and touches his finger to the one with the accidental red bloom.

“It’s pretty dry now.” He blows softly on it for good measure and mixes a rosy coral shade into his brush.

The last petal is swept over the first, and the overlapping area where they touch turns into a vibrant shade of ripe orange. Then, quickly, he sticks the wood handle of the brush sideways between his teeth and picks up a smaller brush, wetting it, loading it with a deep purple that’s almost black, and makes a spray of dots in the middle.

“There ya go!” He takes the brush out of his mouth.

A part of you thinks that you are fucked because you may have just fallen in some deep shit here, as you stare at him, grinning widely—so proud of himself and somehow proud of you, too, for listening.

He’s made it seem impossibly easy. An absurdly beautiful blossom from his imagination stares at you from the watercolor pad in his hand as you shakily pick up the brush next to your hand.

“Well… shit, Steve.” You whisper before breaking out into a silly laugh and putting your forehead into your palm at the thought of the herculean task at hand. The woman to your right laughs along with you as she makes scribbly marks and drips globules of blue water onto her paper. Steve beams at you lovingly as you try to imitate the way he made the first petal, steering the water where you want it to go.

It doesn’t.

But you’re determined, damn it. Because one, you really want to impress him, and two, you really need a summer hobby.

The next hour flies by as you paint diligently, occasionally humming along to Fiona Apple’s resonant vocals in the background, chatting with the other painters. They’re all regulars at Cap&Co., and they adore the Rogers family.

Steve circles the room and answers questions, giving pointers, and sometimes putting his hand over yours to lead your paintbrush. He even kisses you on the top of your head when you finish your first flower—a lavender five-petaled ...cephalopod.

The affectionate gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by the others as they smile and quietly ask him questions when they think you’re not listening. Your ears go hot the rest of the night—just as hot as the top of your head because Steve!

Before you know it, it’s time to pack up. The album has already repeated, and it’s back to an early track. No one seems to mind, however, as they take their papers and wave goodbye. You linger in the area, pouring out dirty water and putting the jars back under the sink. Steve puts away the paints, fixes the rest of the tables, and you return to the café area to join him. He’s patting his thighs with his wet hands when you come in, nodding along to the music.

You gaze at the damp spots on his legs, the fabric of his trousers slightly clinging onto his muscles. Quickly, before he sees you, you look away.

“This exact song was on in the car.” He mutters amusedly, “I really like this… she’s got a great voice.”

Steve walks closer to you, stopping a few steps away and leans against the edge of a wooden booth. He crosses his arms and press his lips together, eyelashes fluttering as he smiles.

“What now?” He asks. His voice echoes the same low and deliberate tone you’ve heard before, and you think that the question isn’t really a question at all. But you’re not really sure what to make of it—tonight may have been the most forward he’s ever been.

The lights are dimmed. The piano melody crescendos before the song ends. There’s a pause of silence before the next song begins, and you feel your heart leap as the first few words start.

I lie in an early bed, thinking late thoughts.

“Um…” Your voice cracks.

I do not struggle in your web because it was my aim to get caught. But daddy long-legs, I feel that I’m finally growing weary of waiting to be consumed by you.

Steve cocks his head to the side, also listening—to the music, perhaps to your now uncomfortably loud heartbeat. You run your hand through your hair. The music chimes into a more upbeat tone as the chorus starts.

Give me the first taste. Let it begin. Heaven cannot wait forever.

“Why don’t you ever kiss me first?”

His eyebrows raise briefly before he blinks a couple of times. You tilt your chin to your chest and lace your fingers together, foot tapping anxiously as you stand in wait. “I mean, I think I’m just a little confused. We’ve seen each other for like, two weeks now. I feel like it’s always me who initiates—but tonight you did a little bit more of that. And… I guess we’ve only kissed—Am I bad kisser? Steve? Am I?”

You’re full of rambling, nervous energy but you try your best to play it off. It was such an awkward thing to say out loud, and there was no way you could come out and spit: Why have we not had sex yet?

Steve surges forward and takes your hand in his, “No!” His head his shaking wildly, “You’re a great kisser! The best!”

His blabbering catches you off-guard and the snort of laughter that comes from you is anything but attractive. “Jesus, Steven, that’s too much.”

Steve slaps his palm to his forehead. “Ah… I’m sorry. I think I’m just nervous.”

“About what?” You ask, leaning forward and looking up at him, “Steve, I just… snorted. You can’t be nervous about this. I should be the one who’s nervous! Look at you!”

He takes a step back and puts one hand on his hip, the other reaching forward to signal to you. “Look at me? Look at you!” He gawks.

The two of you stand there, pointing at each other, making scoffing noises of disbelief for a good two minutes before you put up your hand. “Okay. Pause, mister. You look like someone Photoshopped a rugged Ken Doll and then 3-D printed it. Westworld-style. You bake, you paint, you’re a ceramic---ist? Ceramicist? What! Steve!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, “Come on! Your fuckin’ arms!”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m thirty-five and divorced. I sleep four hours a night. I’m a walking disaster.” Then he narrows his eyes at you.

“You’re gorgeous! You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re so sweet…! You’re honest?” He ticks off each adjective using his fingers, “You’re patient? God, Sarah throws half a tantrum and my world collapses. You’re dedicated. You’re---“

“Okay. Stop.” You mutter, cheeks burning hot, “I sleep on the couch next to a bottle of wine and have three pieces of furniture. We’re both disasters.”

Steve laughs and steps forward again, putting his hand over yours. “I just… didn’t want to mess anything up.” He whispers, “I like you so much… and… if we’re… talking about that. I haven’t… been with anyone in … two years. Other than you, I’ve only kissed one person my entire life… So, the question is—am I a bad kisser?”

You giggle as he gives you an apologetic smirk, shaking his head at the way you two have been aggressively complimenting each other. Standing on your tiptoes, you move to nuzzle your nose against his. “You’re a great kisser, Steve. The best.”

Darkness flutters over his eyes briefly before Steve expertly dodges your nose and catches your mouth with his instead. With a half-whimper, half-moan, Steve Rogers grabs the back of your neck in one large, warm hand and your lower back with the other and presses your body flush against his.

Oh.

He’s so tall he has to bend over and you’re so small against him that he’s nearly picking you up. A brief parting of your lips give you a moment to catch your breath, but he’s back again, tongue sliding against yours sweetly, as if asking a silent question.

Is this okay?

With a sigh of pleasure, you ask him to continue in the same, secret language. Your chest his burning hot, tummy quivering with nerves and delight as his hands roam your body. Firm. Strong. Almost desperate. Your own hands rest against his chest before one reaches up and cups his face, trailing your fingertips through his beard.

“D-does it bother you?” He mutters against your mouth before he slides down past your jaw and lands his lips on your neck, “My beard?”

“Mmm—no—” you’re breathless as he kneads his fingers into your waist, moving up to position them just below your breasts, “I like it—mmm-- lots.” You sigh, as his scruff tickles your shoulder, sending tingles all over your body. “I’d like to feel it… elsewhere, too.”

He freezes and pulls away. His hands place you back down on your feet-- back to Earth-- as he swallows hard, looking at you with open, red lips. Steve rolls the bottom one between his teeth and clenches his jaw, eyes half-lidded and lustful. You’re probably a wreck, too, you think as you catch yourself against a table.

“Can we---”

You cut him off. Your purse is already in your hands, keys swinging around your finger.

“God. Yes. I’ll follow you.”

Steve tugs you from the driver’s seat of your car, hand entwined with yours as he leads you up the walkway and over the step. Once the front door shuts behind him and he’s made sure it’s locked, you’re pressed up against the wall, purse, shoes, keys, clattering onto the hardwood.

“Oh, honey,” he mumbles as he presses his face into your collar, scooping you up into his arms. “Oh, Jesus, sweetheart.”

You’re glad he knows how to navigate his house with his eyes closed because the whole way there, you can’t stop kissing him. Your hands tug his hair and your teeth pinch his bottom lip. Steve responds by growling softly, biting you back, squeezing your thighs before slowly easing you onto his bed.

It’s dark in his room, but you feel the bed dip as he climbs on too. Both your eyes are trying to adjust—trying to find each other. Your hands fumble around until you catch him, his knee. His hands find your stomach. Slowly, he reaches for the hem of your shirt and peels it up over your head. Then he does the same to his own shirt and both of you shimmy out of your pants.

He is hard and hot when your bare skin touches his. Steve lies down on his side to face you, panting slightly as you glide your hand up and down his arm. Oh fuck, it’s been two years and the first man you touch is more like a mythical creature than any man. It should be illegal for someone to feel this good.

Trembling, you touch the hard planes of his torso, the ridges in his abdomen, the swell of his chest taking hard breaths. You shut your eyes and imagine the way he looks right now—breathless and wild. His knee parts your legs easily and one hand descends to feel your center, saturating your underwear.

“Jesus, baby,” Steve sighs into your neck. “You’re makin’ me crazy. This--” He begins to slide his digits up and down, getting the slippery wetness all over his fingers, “Already...”

A shudder rolls through your body upon hearing his words and you arch into his touch, moaning when he rubs your clit in perfect pulsing circles. He moves forward, kissing the tops of your breasts through your bra, nipping at the soft flesh spilling from the cups.

“Steve, you’ll make me come.” You admit, a little shyly even as your hips rock consciously into his hand. You paw at his arms, squeezing the ridges of thick muscles.

The mischievous chuckle that pours from his throat vibrates against your chest. Steve grabs onto your thigh and eases your leg over his hips inching closer and straightening himself until you’re aligned perfectly. He tilts back and guides you against him until your center slides against his bulge.

Just as you find the elastic of his waistband, he jerks away and places himself in-between your legs as he moves you onto your back. You scoot until your head hits the wall, propping yourself up on your elbows, giving him more room at the foot of the bed.

“You wanted to feel this?” Steve caresses your thighs with his cheek, the hairs on his beard tickling your sensitive skin. Your toes curl up reflexively as he moves back and forth, trailing his lips and face all over.

You squeal when the tip of his nose touches your mound, mouth hovering over your soaked panties. His mouth latches on, almost in a bite before he takes them off. Both his hands slide beneath your bottom, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass before he pulls your hips forward. You land on his face, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

“Steve,” You gasp, “This is unfair.” Your body jerks with every teasing kiss he presses to your folds. His breath comes out in a smug puff of air that purposefully continues to drive you unbelievably closer to what feels like breaking entirely.

“Baby…” he mutters—right into your cunt, Jesus! You groan at the way his face is nestled there. “Baby---mm— It’s been two years for me.” He whispers, “If I don’t get you off now, in a really good way—it’s not gonna be good at all.”

“Steve—you know—ah! It’s been the same amount of time for me too, right?!”

He ignores you, crawling his hands around onto your hips to keep you from squirming. When you settle finally, he moves one hand to your center, sliding a finger up and down your slippery folds. His mouth latches onto your clit as his finger continues their trail. You fist his hair with both hands at the same time he slips a digit inside.

But he doesn’t move. Other than his tongue’s soft licks on your swollen clit, Steve doesn’t move at all. He happily lets his finger rest inside of you, gathering your juices all over his hand.

You whimper, trying to shimmy against them, anything to create more contact. Its intrusion builds a terrible itch inside of your body, and goddamn it, you want to scratch.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally lets you have another—adding one more thick finger inside, stretching you as he moves them both around, curling them, pumping them in and out. He sucks enthusiastically on your sensitive bud, fucks you with two fingers almost wildly, and your body responds with fervor. You gasp and moan, arching your back into his hand and face, goosebumps blooming all over your shoulders and down your arms and legs.

“C’mon, that’s it. Thassa good girl. You’re so close. Almost there… Good girl… Good girl.”

With a cry, you come undone, rolling your hips every which way as you reach orgasm on Steve’s hand. His voice continues to praise you, lips kissing your sweat-slicked thighs, beard tickling your sensitive skin.

Instead of pulling away, Steve continues to stroke you with his fingers, slowly prodding at your entrance with a third.

“Just trying to get you ready.” He murmurs, and your heart stills. Ready?

You voice your concern, “What do you mean?”

With a slight chuckle, he sits up, wiping his mouth and parts of his beard with the back of his hand. In the dark, Steve reaches for your arm, guiding you to feel exactly what he’s talking about. A strangled cry escapes your throat as you wrap your fingers around his cock. Hot. Throbbing. Big.

Sweet, sensitive, divorced, baker, artist, ceramicist, father Steve fuckin’ Rogers was packing. And it isn’t until you nervously grip him in both hands do you realize the importance of his last statement.

“Can I get you ready, baby?” He asks again.

For the millionth time that night, your eyes roll back and get lost in your head as you lean against the headboard with a whimper. Steve crawls over on top of you, scoops you up once again in his arms, and places you on his lap. Your legs wrap around his back loosely as he holds you still, previous two fingers pushing inside gently.

You rest your head on his shoulder as your body shakes under his ministrations, already tired and overstimulated. Your hands find their way to grip him, massaging his length tenderly, savoring the temperature of his body, spreading the beaded precum at the tip of his cock up and down his shaft. Steve groans, scissoring his fingers inside of you, spreading your walls.

The third finger meets resistance as you tense up.

“S-sorry,” You whisper, “I’m… I’m pretty nervous…” But you move his hand back and try again. He’s so tender and sweet with you as he turns his head to place kisses on your cheek and ear. It’s a few minutes of this exploration before you feel brave enough to shift and stroke him with determination. Steve takes the message as a confirmation and reaches into the end table for a condom.

It’s slipped on and you follow suit, gasping as Steve guides your hips with one hand, and grips himself with the other. Slowly, he fills you inch by inch until he’s so deep inside you think he could emerge from your throat.

“Oh… my… God!” You cry. There aren’t enough words to describe it— the sweetest sting, an all-encompassing and chilling burn, a mystifying and utter fullness that nearly brings tears to your eyes. You’re afraid to move, to lose this sensation, and afraid to feel what comes next. But you know that you want it.

Steve kisses your lips tenderly, babbling praise, whispering affirmations, soothing the shock that surges up your spine with his warm palm. Slowly, he rocks you back, holding onto your body with one hand, smoothing the hair that falls over your face with the other.

You’re gripping him so tightly it takes some effort to slide even an inch of him out— and there’s many inches of him. Sweat collects on your brow as you grind, dragging against his length, forcing shudders to course all over both your bodies. “Is this okay?” you mutter, delirious, “Steve? You feel so good.”

He flexes within you, grunts into your ear. A dry chuckle escapes him as his hand squeezes your back just a little too hard. He’s holding back, trying to prolong your pleasure, but his own is chasing him down, only a few steps away from pouncing.

You coax it towards him with faster snapping of your hips against his, clawing at his back, nibbling on his ear. “Come on, my love… just a little more.”

With a grunt and a shudder, and a hard kiss to your lips that makes your teeth clack against each other, Steve thrusts one last time as deeply as possible, riding out his orgasm as he pulls your hips against his. The two of you feel welded together, sticky with sweat and so tightly flushed that you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. You body slumps as you drape your arms over his neck. Steve turns his head to kiss your shoulder before making the effort to pull away and clean himself up. He goes into the bathroom first, lying you down and covering you with the blanket.

When he returns, Steve finds you already dozed off. You palm rests under your cheek as you lie on your side, breathing deeply.

As quietly as he can, he squeezes in beside you, fitting himself against your back. He’s read it somewhere, that falling in love was a little bit like falling asleep. As his eyes slip shut, he feels it happening, just like that quote had said: slowly at first, then… all at once.

In the darkness behind his lids, there is strangely so much light.

Next Chapter

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #self insert #slow like honey heli0s

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buriedinbleach · 5 years

Text

Candy from Strangers [Renji]

Anonymous said:

Okay WAIT WAIT YOU'VE PEAKED MY INTEREST. Could I request a renji or kensei fic being really into breeding kink/ their s/o asking for them to creampie? Cos goddamn. I am having a conniption rn just thinking about it. Thank you very much in advance, I will be favoriting and bookmarking that bitch the minute it comes out if you are available to do it.

Not gonna lie, I’ve been dying to write this one ever since you submitted it, anon! It just took me awhile to decide how to set it up. I’ve also played around with the idea of some kind of sketchy Mayuri experiment. Hope you guys enjoy!

Remember, only take treats from a trusted source.

Candy from Strangers [Renji x Reader]

To say anyone ‘liked’ going to the Twelfth division was like saying you wanted to get hit with a kido blast straight to the face. However, you didn’t seem to mind it half as much as some others, generally unafraid of whatever chaos was cooked up there. That was exactly how you found yourself standing impatiently in the lab while one of Mayuri’s dead-eyed minions worked on your captain’s phone, toiling away, not casting a second look in your direction.

‘What was his name again? Hiyosu?’

Leaning on a nearby desk, you glance around the dark room filled with the sounds of machines beeping intermittently and beakers bubbling with mysterious substances that you knew better than to ask about. Your eyes drift casually around the room - disinterested and bored out of your mind and looking for anything to distract you from watching the clock. Finally, you notice an unassuming clear bowl stationed on a desk across the room, filled with fluffy pink balls.

Hiyosu mutters quietly a few feet away, now hunched over the desk where your captain’s phone lays in a few scattered pieces in front of him. This was going to take a while. You shrug your shoulders and walk across the room to investigate. Even in a place like this, your natural curiosity gets the better of you. The fluffy, cloud-like pink balls filling the dish were candy - and they looked delicious. Your stomach echoed your brain’s assessment, growling quietly.

Fortunately, you knew better than to just assume anything was safe to eat in this lab. “Hey? Um, Hiyosu, can I have a few of these, or will they turn me into some kind of jelly blob for experiments?”

He casts a quick glance in your direction before hurriedly resuming his task. “What? Oh no. Those are safe. We keep candy around to distract Captain Zaraki’s lieutenant from poking around in case she comes by, though Rin likes to eat them too.”

Well, if they had them around for Yachiru they must be fine. Not even Captain Kurotsuchi would be crazy enough to feed her experimental sweets. Right? Well, he probably was but the rest of his underlings certainly weren’t; and you had seen Rin around before, he was a nice kid, highly unlikely to destroy his own candies for some experiment. After checking Hiyosu’sµ expression one last time to make sure he wasn’t playing some sort of trick. You take a handful of the soft candies, pop one into your mouth and pocket the rest, trying to limit the amount of pink powder coating the candies from covering too much of your hands and fingers.

You chewed tentatively - cautious - worried that at any moment you might drop dead. The strong strawberry flavor filled your mouth and to your surprise, you were still breathing. Quite an accomplishment for the Twelfth division. Swallowing the first candy, you hop up onto the desk you had been leaning against, checking Hiyosu’s progress before feeling your phone vibrate in your shihakusho pocket. You popped another candy into your mouth before checking the message.

Abarai: Got back early. You gonna be home soon?

Your eyes practically fly out of your head when you glance back over at Hiyosu and see the captain’s phone in dozens more tiny pieces than they had been a moment earlier, splayed chaotically across the desk. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you type out a short reply.

Babe: Doubtful.

Abarai: Too bad. Guess I’ll have to shower alone…

Damn Renji. He knew just how to test you. He had been on a mission in the World of the Living for a week. You had kept yourself sufficiently busy with work during that time, but for some reason you suddenly felt anxious to get home and see him.

“Do you think you’ll be finished soon, or…” You tried to keep your voice casual, but a strange buzzing sensation was beginning to tear at your nerves, making you twitch and shift restlessly.

Hiyosu laughed. “Oh no. I’ll need to keep this for at least two days.” A loud gurgle erupted from your stomach, interrupting him. You both went completely silent and glanced down at your stomach, your face grimacing to hide the embarrassment. “Uh… we can give Captain Yadomaru a temporary locator. I’ll have someone drop it by the Eighth a little later… if you need to go.”

The gurgling deep in the pit of your stomach faded, giving rise to something else. Something much more uncomfortable.

It was suddenly unbearably hot in the lab, your brow and palms were damp and dewy with sweat. You knew the heat bubbling through your body must have been rising up to flood your face by now. Heart racing, thundering, the forced breaths you took to try and calm yourself were coming out ragged and harsh. Your mouth felt as dry as a desert. The uncomfortable, edgy, tingles electrifying your skin were too much.

Clenching your jaw, you grit out a quick response. “Please do. I’m not feeling very well.”

Without another word you spun on your heel and hurried out of the lab, desperate for the cool, fresh air of the Seireitei hoping it would provide some amount of relief. The second you burst outside the doors of the Twelfth division you gasped for air, repeatedly filling your lungs as if you had just been saved from suffocation.

The relief never came. If anything, you felt worse. More than that though, you felt everything.

It was as if every one of your senses was overwhelmed and overloaded with information all at once. As you hurried through the streets towards home, you could hear the inane, quiet chatter of soul reapers walking 15 feet away as if they were right next to you; the electrified tingles dancing over your skin began to magnify and radiate around your body; colors seemed sharper, more vibrant somehow; the strawberry flavor of the candy still coated your mouth, but the more you moved your restless tongue, the more the hunger deep within began screaming for more.

But it wasn’t demanding food.

‘What the hell was in that candy?!’

A nondescript craving was developing, your thoughts raced to find the source, to fill the void that was all-consuming. You would do anything in that moment to quell the hunger - the need - ripping you apart. But your body knew the remedy better than your mind and it fueled your steps in a familiar direction: home. The same home you shared with Renji.

Renji.

The craving now made much more sense. Your previously clouded mind abruptly focused on one thing, your gorgeous boyfriend who was waiting for you at that very moment - very naked. As the image of Renji overtook your thoughts you froze, every muscle in your body clenched and released, searching, coming up empty. So empty, yet consumed with an aching need that begged to be filled. Deliciously filled - over and over.

Your heart begins pounding again with urgency and excitement. Your steps quicken until you catch a delicious scent permeating through the air, something that wouldn’t have been noticeable to you otherwise outside of your present condition. It was the strong, earthy smell of dirt, sweat, and male pheromones. You tightened your jaw to stifle the moan attempting to rip from your throat as your core clenched down again, and your eyes searched frantically for the source - any source - of the delicious scent.

“___-chan, you ok?” Shuhei touches your shoulder, his hand searing through the layers of your shihakusho. There is a panicked look in your eyes as you stare back at him, standing next to Izuru. Both of them regard you with puzzled, worried looks. Two of Renji’s best friends. Your body throbs painfully once more at their proximity, eyes drifting down to Shuhei’s strong arms, blood coursing through your veins. How easy it would be to…

NO! You needed Renji, you wanted Renji. That damn candy might settle for any male presence, but you wouldn’t. You were stronger than that.

Your voice cracks, coming out more startled and desperate than you wanted. “Fine! Just need to get home!” You didn’t wait to hear their response before flash-stepping away with newfound speed. The hunger was building, your sex throbs and spasms continuously now. A warning deep within told you that your rational brain wouldn’t be able to control the desire for much longer. You need to hurry.

By the time you reach the door to your shared home you’re trembling, barely containing the wanton moans trying to escape your lips. Slamming the door shut behind you, your chest heaves for breath. Renji had been relaxing on the couch, freshly showered and shirtless, wearing only a simple pair of grey sweats. He bolted upright the second you came into view, and judging by the expression on his face, you must have been a sight - not that you cared one bit about that. In that moment, all you cared about was him - your salvation - the only one who could ever make you feel good. Candy or no candy.

Renji jumps up from the couch and begins hurrying towards you - nowhere near fast enough. You run to meet him, your fingers frantically pulling at your obi as you move. The closer you got to him, the hotter you felt; the more desperate the need became, warmth rushing up and down your spine, flooding your core.

“Babe, what the hell?! Are you ok?!” Worry and fear tinged Renji’s voice. You nodded frantically, reaching up and pulling his mouth down to yours in a hungry kiss. The second you touch his skin, taste his lips, you feel the smallest measure of relief, but its short lived. Now that you had found him, his kiss alone wouldn’t do. Your clit throbs making you moan into his mouth.

You feverishly pull at your clothes, the normally comfortable fabric grated against your skin like shards of glass. “Fi-fine. I’m fine.” You kiss him again as your hands work. “Twelfth… weird candy… I need you.” Your thoughts and words are broken by heavy breaths and desperate kisses.

“I’m here! Tell me what you need, I’ll do it.” Panic is still his overriding emotion as he watches you peeling off your kosode and hakama, tossing them away carelessly. Renji has never seen you like this, but a small part of him didn’t mind it. His eyes travel down your body, covered only in your bra and underwear, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly with heated, lustful breaths. It made his cock stir, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

Your eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with desire flick up to meet his, a salacious smile creeping across your lips. Stepping forward, your hand reaches down between your bodies to stroke the steadily forming bulge you find barely concealed under his sweats. You cup Renji’s face with your free hand, letting your thumb graze across his full lower lip slowly before pushing inside, your eyes trained on his.

Renji’s warm tongue slides across the pad of your thumb, taking in the faint hint of strawberry that tinged your skin. His pupils suddenly grow larger, darker, his dick hardens in an instant and twitches under your touch. A low groan rolls through his chest, his breathing becoming much more urgent, yet still not as fast as yours. Renji’s rough palms slip down your waist, dragging over your curves to cup the back of your thighs. In one swift motion Renji lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist, pressing your back against the nearest wall.

You were careless.

Maybe if your mind hadn’t been consumed with the need to feel Renji inside you - filling the painful, aching emptiness - you would have realized trace amounts of the candy remained on your fingers. But you didn’t. And now Renji was going to experience a small fraction of what you were going through. A sliver of your rational brains realized what was going on, but your primal urges silenced any objections, acutely aware you were both about to get exactly what you needed.

Renji’s eyes were as dark and lustful as your own as you stare at each other for a split second before your fingers weave through his crimson hair, pulling his mouth to yours. The kiss was hot and deep, rapidly devolving into little more than panting breaths as he kisses down your neck to lick and suck at the delicate skin, hungrily marking your body. Every point of contact was fuel for the fire raging through you. You rolled your hips over Renji’s, moaning as his erection pressed against your sex.

“Please, Renji! I need you now!” A mixture of whimpers and moans left you as your core clenched down again - on nothing. He was so close. His scent was heavy in your nostrils, making your head swim. Water, fresh soap, overwhelming male musk. His body - his muscles - were so hard against your own, pinning you effortlessly to the wall. Each new stimulus sent a jolt through your body, straight to your core causing you to grind your hips into his erection. Renji groans, crushing his hips into yours before breathing deeply and carrying you to the bedroom using his quickest flash-step.

You had barely reached the bed before Renji tosses you down onto the soft mattress. He quickly kicks off his sweats - unable to tolerate the tight, chafing material that painfully restricted his throbbing length. A low growl rumbles through his chest as he stalks his way up the bed, descending on you like a hungry predator. Renji’s warm brown eyes were nearly swallowed by deep black pools of lust and desire.

He kisses his way up the center of your chest, letting his teeth graze your neck, across your jaw, until he finally reaches your lips. You welcome the weight and pressure of his body pressing into yours, moaning loudly, sinking your fingers into his shoulders when his cock grazed against the thin, soaking wet fabric of your underwear.

Renji captures your bottom lip between his teeth, lightly pulling and sucking on your flesh as you whimper, gasping for air. “Mmm… you taste amazing, babe.” He traces your mouth slowly, the tip of his tongue running along your slightly open lips pulling lust-drunk mewls from you.

It was clear that the trace amount of candy he had ingested wasn’t affecting him nearly as bad as you. He still possessed enough resistance to drag his rough palms down your curves, pinning your squirming hips - eager for friction - to the bed. His hands burned a trail down your skin, leaving a wake of painful electric shocks to mark his path. Renji sat back with a grin, trailing a finger over your still covered sex.

Your core spasms, desperately grasping for an object that remains out of reach. “Aahh!” A low, agonizing whine rips from your throat. “Renji, I wa-nt you… i-in…” You couldn’t get the words out. Thankfully, you didn’t need to. Renji’s cock twitches. That was a plea his body couldn’t resist any longer.

His hands slide up your hips, gripping the fabric of your underwear, shredding it to pieces and tossing the remnants off the bed. Your bra was the next casualty of the shared ache you felt for each other. Finally, skin met skin, burning and unobstructed. Renji’s warm weight was on you again, your arms and legs tangle around his shoulders and hips, pulling him closer. The second his cock brushes against your folds, lining up with your entrance, you feel dizzy with excitement - keening wildly. His hips press forward, slowly sinking into your heat as you arch up to meet him. Renji holds his forehead to yours, breathing heavily. You share a long, exalted sigh - finally feeling a small measure of relief.

“Fuck.” Renji groans, lying perfectly still once he’s completely buried inside you. At last. Right where you needed him, where he fits perfectly - where he belongs. It doesn’t take long for your body to adjust to the stretch of him before your core cries out for more. Fortunately, he feels it too. Renji’s hips begin rocking against yours, a slow, in and out roll that has you rising up and pushing into him to meet each stroke.

“Yes! Renji, you feel so good.” You sigh, both of your mouths hang open, panting heavily, drunk with lust. The slow thrusting begins to build, matching the fervor coursing through your veins, aching for release, racing to a crescendo. Renji’s mouth hungrily moves down your throat, his hands ball into tight fists beside your head before the pressure mounting in his gut becomes too much.

He grabs your shoulders, pulling you up sharply onto his lap with a grunt. The forceful, eager gesture makes you whimper in rapture as your hips slam down onto his. He groans watching you, a dark, debauched sound that feeds your frenzy. “Ah! Babe, you look so hot.” His rough palms caress your hips, savoring every grinding stroke you make. The coarse, calloused skin of his hands is magnified in your heightened state as he slings one arm around your back, reaching up with the other to palm your breast, bringing it to his mouth.

Renji grins up you, winking as his tongue peeks out to flick against the rock hard pebble of your nipple. He wants to make sure you’re watching his every move. It sends a shockwave pulsing out over your body, your core spasms and your walls contract around his girth as you cry out. He wraps his mouth around your soft flesh, massaging and sucking while he groans against your skin. Renji feels your fingers weave through his hair, dancing across his scalp in an effort to pull him closer. His lips part in an arrogant smile as he happily obliges, swirling his tongue around your nipple, capturing it lightly between his teeth before sucking it into a puffy swollen state - repeating the process on the other side.

Still, nothing compares to the blissful feeling of Renji filling you over and over, bouncing harshly up and down his thick cock. Every normally satisfying inch of Renji’s body around yours - in yours - was positively euphoric now. Amplified to levels that were almost intolerable - untenable. You were grinding, rolling, filled, and stretched to the point of exhaustion - but you needed more.

‘How could there possibly be more this?!’

Renji grips your hips, pulling you down onto his cock as he thrusts into you. Surely, you could die happy after this. Fade away into reishi, a satisfied mist with no complaints. But the tension coiling in the pit of your stomach calls you back to reality. You were so close, so painfully close, but something deep inside told you that your release was still out of reach. Needing one more thing to push you to the brink.

Renji’s deep, husky voice whispers in your ear. The heat of his breath and his words resonates down to your core. “Fuck. Babe, you’re gonna make me cum.”

A lightning bolt of pure pleasure shoots straight down your spine. Your back arches and your head rolls back at hearing those words. That was it. The indescribable ingredient you were missing. “Oh Gods, Renji, Please! Please cum in me!” Your words echoes loudly in his mind through the lewd moans tearing from your throat.

Renji groans, clenching his jaw. The sound of your whimpering voice, the sight of your body thrusting against his, unabashedly taking what you need is a picture he won’t ever forget. His body pleads with him to give you exactly what you want, what you’re begging him for. But his microdose of candy is starting to wear off, allowing him brief flashes of clarity.

He pants, breathless. “Are you sure?” His words are chivalrous, but the way he drives into you, pulling you down onto his length, rolling his hips to catch you clit is not. Its obvious Renji wants it as badly as you do.

“Yes!! Baby, I need it!”

That was all Renji needed to hear. His heated growl sends both your bodies into overdrive, primal instincts take over. Your fingers sink into his shoulders, gripping his body as an anchor point. Your thighs tremble with effort, Renji holds you tightly against him, pushing your back down onto the bed, driving into your heat.

Renji pulls your leg up around his hip, thrusting deeper, reaching that perfect spot deep within you. His mouth is everywhere; licking, sucking, grazing your skin. Your hips arch up off the bed to meet his thrusts as you breathlessly chant barely coherent words. “Yes!” “Harder!” “More!” “Cum in me, Renji!”

With two final, powerful snaps of his hips, you both feel your walls spasm harshly around his cock - commanding his release. The heat of Renji flooding your core - the forceful sensation - reverberates through you in waves, tension melting away into overwhelming, orgasmic bliss. It courses through your veins in powerful waves that form aftershocks, rippling in your core until you’re left limp, sated, and full.

Renji rolls onto the bed beside you, wrapping his body tightly around yours, drawing a contented sigh. You were both completely silent, drowsily waiting for your hearts to stop pounding in your chests and you breathing to return to some semblance of normalcy. Renji was the first one to recover.

“You feel any better?” He whispers tenderly in your ear.

“Much. I probably would have gone crazy if you weren’t here. That was intense.” A little shiver ran down your spine at the memory. Although, you had to admit, the overwhelming euphoria still heavily present in your mind and body, that candy definitely had its perks.

Renji grinned, his lips ghosting over your neck. “What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t help? I wonder what the hell the Twelfth needs something like that for anyway.”

You laughed briefly before the sound morphed into a long yawn; the call to sleep was taking over. “I think I still have a few in my pocket. You can be the one to try it next time and find out.” Renji’s eyes widened in surprise before a mischievous smirk crossed his lips. It was only fair that you get to see him become a keening, erotic mess this time. For science.

Rin entered the lab carrying a small bag, Hiyosu was painstakingly reassembling Captain Yadomaru’s phone. Sensing that Hiyosu had everything under control, he was about to turn and leave when his eyes fell on the half-empty candy dish stationed nearby. His bag fell from his hands, crashing to the floor, spilling candies everywhere. Only then did Hiyosu look up from his task.

“Di-did some-” Rin coughed, clearing his throat before continuing. “Did someone eat these?”

“Now, don’t be upset. There’s still plenty left for you.” Hiyosu laughed, preparing to turn back to his work when Rin stopped him.

“Those aren’t my candies! Those are mine!” Rin gestured wildly to the floor, Hiyosu had never seen him so animated.

Slowly, they both looked from the spilled candy covering the floor and back up to the dish. “Shit.”

“Please don’t tell Captain Kurotsuchi. I don’t want to have to ask Lieutenant Abarai or Lieutenant ___ about its… efficacy.” Rin fidgeted nervously, blushing uncontrollably at the thought.

Hiyosu’s wide-set eyes were alight. He looked past Rin to the door of the lab where Mayuri stood with an unsettling smile covering his painted face, his eyes were bright with excitement. “Did I hear you say someone sampled our candy? Excellent. I’ll expect a full report by tomorrow.”

Rin did manage to work up the courage to walk over to your house later that evening. He nervously paced a few feet away from the door, looking sheepish. He took a deep breath, held it, and raised his hand to knock. But before he could lower it, he heard muffled noises coming from inside. Curious, Rin leaned in closer and heard a loud, rapidly pounding thump-thump-thump mixed with your voice crying out in rapture and low, indistinguishable words from Renji. Rin backed away quickly. He decided he had enough information to make up his report after that.

#renji abarai #renji x reader #buriedinbleach #all work and no play #warning: smut ahead #ao3 #reader insert #bleach imagines

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ogeeitsme · 5 years

Note

What's the best way for you guys to de-stress and cool down? And also hope all of you have a lovely time as well!

Heya !! So i was supposed to draw to this but even if we're not in school for a while (it's summer) i keep having anxiety to draw!! So here's the compilation i did real quick that i was supposed to draw out of everyone's coping mechanisms and de-stress stuff! Most of these are from active members!! all of them are fronters

Gee

drawing (like what i do for this blog!)

turn on a movie (my comfort movie is Bambi 1 and 2!)

music and watching stuff! usually music since it doesn't need internet

Chara

animal documentaries

destroying something (only if it's okay to destroy! So that would be like ripping paper or something! They don't like drawing, i'm not sure why, but we theory it's because it's kind of making something? So when they do draw it's usually sketchy or angry scribbles, i have a lot of paper in real life that chara's just angrily grinned pencils on)

this one's really unhealthy, but they would also punch and punch the walls and floors- they're trying not to do that anymore,but when they get mad, it's the first thing they try to do. a few things i know on why they do that is because they like the adrenaline and feeling something? They don't really feel much pain that's why they don't realize when our hand will bruise! They just feel tingly when it's supposed to be painful. They also would rather punch really hard things because it makes less sound (our walls are cement and the floors are tiles) and they want to feel like they're actually punching someone ;;

They also listen to their music! They Oh have a lot of playlists but for calming down, they have one called Soft Knives! It's full of calm or music you can sleep too- so they have some Animal crossing music

EDIT/addition: videos of cats meowing and talking (chara immediately dies and ascends)

Kris

drawing (He does this a lot of course!)

music (usually music from his playlist! But sometimes there are days where you'll find him listening to his source music. his favourite from the soundtrack is Field of Hopes and Dreams- sometimes when he's happy, he hums the tune)

watching/looking at memes (like vine compilations)

eating or biting something (fun fact: if kris likes something, you'll know it when he says he wants to eat it JSKSJ) he has an impulse to eat a lot of stuff but he doesn't act on it. we got him a chewing stim! we let him pick it, it's a necklace and it's a hot pink lego piece, yes he chose the colour

if not eating or biting or chewing, he'll watch cooking shows or baking shows

Sal

watching something else that's calm, or cute videos, or animal videos

music (i keep saying it but his music is a little all over the place. he has 2 playlists: one is full of rock and death metal, and the other is a variety of genres, i like his music but i'm confused on how to feel about. a lot of them)

Peter

honestly, watcing educational videos! Any subject is fine but he would definitely prefer anything on the subject of science

sometimes looking at his source helps

music again! Honestly, music is a really good way to cope or calm down in any situation (peter's playlist isn't very big but most of his music are a bit older, and some are really old)

So that's everyone's de-stressing methods that i've noticed! and then some common ones that almost all of us do are:

again, drawing! it's okay to destroy the art after, you can draw scribbles, blobs, angry squares, or something to visualize how you feel! vent drawing doesn't have to make sense

Personally I hate chocolate, but Chara, Kris, and Matthew love it a lot! So when they feel awful, we have "emergency chocolate" which we save just for them! They used to steal from each other so we temporarily labelled them until it was too dangerous to suddenly be found out who's out. In good news we have like 4 cartons of chocolate milk SJSKJ, we also let the kids have some when they want! Sometimes Kris and Chara bribe each other to do something by sharing "You can have this many glasses of chocolate" and it works (Chara does the bribing)

to repeat, music! - it's not for everyone, but it's cathartic! And if you're calming down from angry or a big sad or anxiety, you don't always have to go for just classical! You can make a playlist of music that makes you feel like you can fall asleep safely

games- i know chara sometimes plays their own game, the kids play animal crossing pocket camp sometimes! It's just a good distraction

talking to friends - i think this is what everyone does in general, but it's still good- it doesn't have to be to vent to them exactly, just spending time with people you like and trust! because we're a system, that means most of their friends are from online rather than in person

journaling - Chara does this the most in our system journal! It doesn't have to be a full essay, but i think it's good to write down what's on your mind may it be directly or maybe indirectly like via poem or something cryptic or short (it's also good to do if you don't know what to talk about in therapy- because you can look back on what you or everyone's written!)

Petting Tavi - we have a cat, her name is Octavia! Tavi for short. sometimes when they're stressed or sad, or someone else is, someone (or themselves) would go up to Tavi just to pet her, and sometimes some of us go up to front to pet her ;; it's just good, it's a weird good feeling of just petting her, it's great ;;

That's all!! Im sorry i couldn't get this in drawing form ;; so i'm sorry you have to read so much SHSKJ!! thank you for asking by the way!!

(Again i didn't list everybody because they're not super active;;)

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envirotravel · 7 years

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Summer in San Francisco

Last summer, while planning my now-annual visit to California to visit my dad, I added in a new stop that I hope becomes a regular one — San Francisco. One of my hometown best friends had recently moved cross-country to settle in Lower Pacific Heights, and I couldn’t wait to explore the amazing life she’d created for herself out west.

After a long flight from Albany, where I’d barely caught my breath after my Boston and Martha’s Vineyard trip, I couldn’t wait to give Michelle a squeeze — and enjoy four days in a city I hadn’t properly explored since a school trip when I was thirteen.

After losing my mind at the amazing-ness of Michelle’s brownstone apartment (she lucked into the third bedroom of a rent-controlled apartment her two sweet roommates have rented for more than eight years), we headed out for drinks. San Francisco, I’d learned, isn’t huge on rooftop bars — so the heated “roof-ish” patio at Jones was a pretty big deal.

I was immediately glad Michelle had insisted I bring a sweater. You know that famous Mark Twain quote, “the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco?” THAT DUDE KNEW WHAT WAS UP.

We continued our reunion celebration with dinner at Hops and Hominy and bar hopping what felt like all over the Bay Area. As someone who is often in serious trip planning and logistics coordinating mode, there’s nothing I love more than visiting my friends and just blindly following them around for a few days with little to no awareness of where I actually am. Makes blog writing difficult in retrospect (ha!) but it’s such a treat at the time.

The next day, Michelle had an amazingly fun itinerary planned with hiking and brunch and so many of my favorite things. Unfortunately, I was feeling sicker than I have in ages and so was basically a useless blob the entire day — more on that later. But leave it to this super host to find the perfect activity even for an invalid houseguest: a feel-good movie at the fancy Kabuki 8 theater.

The following morning, though still feeling pretty weak, I couldn’t stand the thought of wasting another day on Michelle’s lovely itinerary, and so we set off for a gentle walk through Crissy Field. It was a chilly and windy morning, and fog dramatically clung to the bright red Golden Gate Bridge in the distance.

At the base, we climbed up the Fort Point tower for better views, and could only take our hands out of our pockets long enough to snap quick selfies before they felt like they were freezing again! I could not believe that it was June in California and I was so cold (and yes, in fact, I am writing about this trip nearly a full year later — whoops.)

Thankfully, things started to warm up by the time we got back to the car. The walk had wiped me out but also worked up the first bit of appetite I’d had in over 36 hours, so I was pumped for our next stop — Chestnut Street in Pac Heights.

We could have spent all day strolling this too-cute neighborhood. After evaluating several options, we settled on lunch at Tacolicious, where I nodded in agreement to their signature tagline, “fingers over forks.”

When we emerged from the restaurant, I was shocked by what awaited us outside — bright blue skies! I never would have guessed based on the morning that our day would turn out this way. Michelle was kind enough to drive me back to see the bridge from another vantage point so I could obsessively take photos with this beautiful gift of sun. Ah, tourists.

But seriously… how beautiful is this?!

We ended up going for another wander, this time down to the harbor. The views looked familiar — they were the same I’d seen from my Alcatraz Cruise, my one little pop-in to San Fran since my last proper visit almost fifteen years prior.

But sometimes, when you’re catching up with an old friend, it doesn’t really matter so much where you are or what you’re doing… it’s all just background to a great conversation, anyway.

The morning’s activities left my still-rough-self pretty wiped, but Michelle knew just what to do: a driving tour! I did get out of the car at our two main destinations, but mostly I was quite happy to watch the city go by from the car window, listening to my friend’s narration about her new home.

Perhaps my favorite stop was the Painted Ladies. This famous row of Victorian Houses got its big break in the opening credits of Full House, but fame hasn’t gone to its head.

A little less overwhelming was Lombard Street. In theory, the world’s second windiest road sounds very cool, but in reality it’s actually pretty hard to appreciate (or photograph) unless you’re taking in an aerial view. Still, we drove down it, which was cool, and it was fun to see the huge tour group all angling for the best photo.

That night, we went to Tony’s for pizza and the Warrios game. While the waits are notoriously crazy at this popular eatery, we beat the system by sitting at the bar — a trade off I’m almost always happy to make when dining as a pair.

The next day was the first that I truly had my appetitive back, a terrible thing to lose in a city so famous for its cuisine. Michelle was working from home this day and it was so nice to just have side-by-side laptop time. As someone who often works alone, it really makes you appreciate the silent company of someone else doing the same. Other than a quick lunch outside on the street at The Grove, we chilled from our office on the couch all day.

And suddenly, it was my last night in San Francisco. We ran around town meeting up with various friends — dinner with Michelle’s roommate, drinks with my childhood neighbor and friend — and discovered two gems in the process. The first was Smuggler’s Cove, an intensely-themed pirate bar that would put most tikis to shame. While the night we visited was a little weird (there was no music playing, which I hate in a bar), I’ve had enough personal recommendations for this place to conclude that we just had an off night. I’d love to give it another chance and really work my way through the rum menu someday!

And our next stop was Chambers Bar, which looked like it was made for Instagram. Though we arrived not long before closing, this was one of my favorite finds from the whole trip, and also left me itching for a return.

We turned in after, as the next morning Michelle was back to the office, and I was on to San Jose for a night with my friend Abby before flying to Los Angeles. I always love visiting Abby — when travel bloggers get together they do boring stuff like go to the gym and go to nondescript restaurants and sit on the couch and watch TV and basically do nothing but catch up and gossip about our weird and wonderful industry. Well, at least these travel bloggers do. (And clearly, based on the zero evidence I have of these 24 hours with Abby, we don’t take many photos either.)

Five days in Northern California flew by.

They did so in large part due to the illness I mentioned before… which wasn’t just a bug.

I really hesitated on if I wanted to write about this or not, but I am pretty sure that I was drugged on our first night out. I have many reasons for thinking so, the primary one being that at our last stop for the night, Michelle and I were approached by a sketchy guy who tried to sell us drugs. We laughed off his dancefloor sales pitch (um yeah NO THANKS) but he wouldn’t quite leave us alone. Michelle says she noticed I started acting funny and the guy started speaking to me in Spanish, and I replying in it, so she couldn’t follow what was going on. I don’t remember any of this — because him buzzing around us like a fly you just can’t swat was my last memory of the entire night.

And so I also don’t remember that shortly after, as Michelle was putting us in an Uber, that same man muscled open the door or our car and forced himself into the vehicle just as we were pulling away. Michelle screamed that he wasn’t with us, and our driver screeched to the side of the road, yanked the guy out of the car and onto the curb, and hightailed us home to safely.

I was violently ill for two days; nauseous, weak, and unable to keep food or even water down. While I definitely considered the possibility that I was having a very weird hangover (for better or for worse, at this point I know my body’s reaction to excessive partying pretty well, and vomiting just isn’t party of the equation) but a call to my doctor back east confirmed that my symptoms were in line with those of date rape drugs. He encouraged me to go to a hospital for testing and treatment and to file a police report, which in retrospect I wish I had done. But I didn’t have health insurance at the time and was worried what it all would cost, and I was also fearful of the reaction of whoever I might report what happened to, considering nothing really happened.

It was a reminder that with all the far flung, exotic destinations I travel to, terrible things can happen anywhere and women especially must always, always be vigilant when it comes to their personal safety. While it was a very unsettling experience and I can’t remember the last time I felt so physically terrible, I am so grateful to have escaped the situation relatively unscathed and to have had Michelle take such good care of me while I recovered.

As for all the things I missed while I was healing… I’ll just have to go back. I’ve got the perfect host to crash with, after all.

Till next time, San Francisco…

Summer in San Francisco posted first on http://ift.tt/2k2mjrD

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