#even if they do want to play fetch with shampoo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aceofspadegrass · 4 years ago

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Can you like,write a crack for the AIB cast?? Or maybe: Shuntaro,Dori,and Tao are all busy with their work. Leaving their dogs lonely without any attention(Merry,Misao, and fanta) so they all thought that it's great to leave their dogs with Nijiro/dog-sitting by Nijiro. And now it's all up to you on what Nijiro is going to do with the dogs before their owners come home,which he would struggle cause he doesn't know how to take care of dogs and just read a book that is titled: "how to take care of dogs 101"

Doggy Daycare

Characters: Murakami Nijiro, Sakurada Dori, Tsuchiya Tao (Briefly), and Yanagi Shuntaro (Also briefly)

Genre: Fluff. Nijiro dog sitting the doggy trio. :D

2.2k words

A non AIB fic, how fancy of me. I hope I did it justice. And correctly placed the dogs genders solely on their name. Sakurada really did just dump three dogs on the child and dipped-

There was a knock at his door. Strange, seeing as he wasn’t expecting visitors. Nijiro gets up from his couch and heads towards the door, peeking through the electronic monitor that showed whom was outside his door.

He smiles a little as he sees a familiar face, one that he saw a few months ago from set and on occasional events afterwards, Nijiro opening the door to Dori Sakurada’s smiling face. Besides him was his dog, Fanta politely sitting down on the ground.

“ Hi! Did you need something?” Nijiro asks, Dori nodding with a bit of a nervous smile.

“ Yes! I hope I wasn’t interrupting you, but can I ask you a small favour, please?” Sakurada continues to nervously smile, fidgeting a little, Nijiro nodding. He offers Sakurada to take a seat, but he declines, glancing away. “ No, I need to go soon, I have a shoot to attend in a little bit. I was hoping if you could watch over Fanta, Merry, and Misao for a little bit? Tsuchiya and Yanagi didn’t want to leave their dogs at home either, and thought they might use some company!” Nijiro smiles, internally very confused and hoping a little that he didn’t have to take care of a close friend’s dog, let alone three, but he had to at least be respectful. He bows a little to Sakurada. “ I’ll try my best!”

Ah, why did he say that. He internally cringes and looks up, but Sakurada’s relieved face made him feel a little obligated now, and Sakurada thanks him profusely before gently ushering Fanta into the home of Nijiro, Fanta happily trotting himself inside. Not long after, two more dogs come in, one a small white pooch and the other a darker brown dog than Fanta was, and much more curlier.

“ Thanks again Murakami! I’ll make it up to you later, I promise!” Dori yells as he quickly leaves, Nijiro waving him goodbye until he was well out of sight. He sighs and shuts the door, turning around to stare at the three new additions he suddenly obtained.

“ Oh boy. Uhhh- Hi-“ Nijiro starts, Fanta casually padding around the place. Merry was already gone, Misao already trying to climb up furniture. It’s gonna be a long day. Nijiro comes over to the small poodle and scoops her up, Misao yipping in surprise and wriggling. He doesn’t hold her for long as he sits back down on the couch, Misao now on his lap. She seemed comfortable there, resting her body upon his legs as he scans the room for the other two dogs. Fanta was still idly investigating, sniffing at the odd thing or two but otherwise not causing any trouble. Merry was a different story, the dog completely disappeared from sight. It was actually a little concerning how fast the dog actually disappeared, Nijiro frowning a little.

“ Merry? Merry, where did you go-“ Nijiro calls out, and lo and behold Merry comes out from the hall, carrying a small bottle of shampoo. Nijiro blinks, Merry happily dropping the bottle at his feet, tail wagging. Nijiro picks it up, Merry barking and spinning once before settling her sights on the bottle.

“ What is it? Do… do you want me to throw this? This isn’t a toy-“ Nijiro lightly shakes the bottle, but apparently that simply grabs the attention of Misao, the other dog yipping in excitement and trying (and failing) to grab the bottle in her tiny mouth. Nijiro holds the bottle even higher, a little relieved that both dogs were much too small to really topple him or reach the bottle.

Still, he doesn’t know how Dori or even the others expected him to take for of three dogs when he doesn’t even live with one. He didn’t even have any dog food for them. Now that he thought about it…. did the dogs have a schedule to eat? He’d assume so. Maybe they ate about the same as most people began to eat.

The longer he thought about it, the more he realized he doesn’t know how to properly dogsit these dogs. He couldn’t disappoint Sakurada, even if he was a nice dude. He stands up, Misao hopping off his lap with a short confused yelp as the man heads to his room to search it up.

The dogs all follow him, by the way, Nijiro finding that out as he sat at his desk and heard soft tapping behind him, as well as one warm body bumping up against his leg. It was followed by a bark, Nijiro looking down to see Merry staring at him, and then stepping all over his feet and then off again. A bit more to his left was Fanta, who was at least laying down and not causing much of a fuss unlike Merry looking around the underside of his desk like a little mole. Misao was behind him, the sound of her little paws tapping against the ground audible. He sighs, and logs in, opening up a tab to search up how to take care of a dog.

Like a normal person, he simply just types in ‘ how to take care of dog’ and hits enter, the internet pulling up sites that held gold mines of information, Nijiro clicking the first link.

Time to become a good dog uncle.

The dogs, meanwhile, all at least mind their own business, each one minding Nijiro being busy and mostly content with playing with each other instead, chasing each other and playfully wrestling, light yips and growls thrown around. Occasionally they would seek Nijiro’s attention, Nijiro reaching down to give them a hearty little head pat before delving back into his research in how to care for the dogs.

It was near lunch when he deemed himself at least mildly capable of watching three little dogs without many dog supplies anyone would expect to need. He gets up after logging off, and looks down at the dogs still there, Fanta barking at him and demanding pats. Nijiro bends down and pets the one dog, which summons the other two like ghosts, Nijiro petting the others as well. Fanta even rolled over for belly paps, Nijiro smiling a little.

“ Let’s get you some food, all of you.” He gets up and leaves, his little puppy parade right behind him. Nijiro gets to the kitchen and rummages around until he finds something: A can of sausages. He takes it out, the dogs getting louder and barking in excitement. Nijiro whips around and lightly glares at them, hushing the dogs. It was like magic, the three quieting down almost instantly, save from one light bark from Misao. He turns back around and peels open the can, and there sound of tails swooping across the ground make him laugh a little. He dumps the sausages onto a plate and pops it into the microwave for a little bit to heat up, turning back to the dogs.

He was greeted with a rather cute scene, the three dogs sitting down and staring up at him with their combined puppy eyes. They were patiently waiting for their food, Misao’s tongue even out as the tiny dog panted. It was really cute, Nijiro smiling a little bigger.

“ Just a bit longer, okay?” Nijiro promises them, and they all visibly get a little more excited about the prospects of mealtime. The microwave beeps, and the dogs get set off again, barking and going wild for sausages they barely even had. It was loud, Nijiro having so shush them once more before taking the sausage out of the microwave. He checks to make sure they weren’t too hot before setting the dish on the ground. He could wash it later, so he wasn’t that grossed as the three dogs went ham on the sausages, nomming away on the sole plate housing their meaty meal.

He figured they needed water just like every other living being, so he grabs a bowl to fill. He was nearly about to grab a cup, but then he realized that giving a cup to a dog, let alone three, was a really bad plan.

So bowl it was. He kind of forgot about the fact that he had three dogs with him, so he places the small bowl of water on the ground, only for said bowl to get knocked over by both Misao and Merry trying to get a drink and toppling it over, spilling water everywhere.

“ Hey! Bad dogs!” Nijiro scolds, the dogs whining and scampering away. Even Fanta made a noise of trouble, despite having not even touched the bowl once. Nijiro huffs and goes to grab a towel, kneeling down to wipe away the water. He softens the moment he sees Merry and Misao look at him with this dark puppy eyes, Nijiro sighing and holding his arms out. “ Okay, okay, I’m sorry I got mad. Here, make up hug?” The dogs bark, all eager for attention, all wobbling their little selves into his arms, Nijiro laughing a little as their tongues all brush up against him in happiness.

“ Ah! I’m under attack!” He yelps with a grin, falling backwards as three dogs all bombard him, licking and wiggling in happiness. They only get off after they get their fill, which to Nijiro felt like forever, the man sitting up and wiping away dog saliva off him. He’ll need to wipe it down, but right now he still needed to water the dogs.

This time with a bigger bowl.

He fills a new bowl with water, this one much more bigger and more suitable. Nijiro sets it down, and Merry and Misao have a go at it again, now no longer fighting as badly and getting their slurps in. Even Fanta comes for a drink, the three dogs content with sharing amongst each other. Nijiro took the time to clean himself from where the dogs got him, humming to himself a random tune.

The dogs all finish, and that only gets them ready for play time, as the dogs surround him like some off-brand dog cult, pawing and jumping at his legs. Nijiro tried to push them off and keep all four paws on the ground, but to no avail, even as he picks up the empty food plate and drops it in the sink, quickly rinsing it down to get rid of the fresh germs before he’d ever get to it later to clean properly. The dogs continued to whine until Nijiro got back to the living room area and sat down on the ground, the dogs now vying for a spot in the spot on his lap, excited to be with him. He was getting a tad overwhelmed, but he didn’t mind the little hint of warmth that overcame his heart as three bundles of affection tried to give it to him. He lays back, the dogs all trampling over him and happily finding their spot on top before settling, happy now to just lay on him despite all the hullabaloo to play.

He chuckles as they get comfortable, Nijiro moving his hand up to pet the dogs in an equal measure. He’d feel a little bad otherwise if he ignored one over the other.

The man didn’t even know how long he even laid there, but soon enough there is another knock at his door, alerting all the dogs into rushing up to the front door out of curiosity of who was behind said door. Nijiro was the last to get up, and he shuffles to the door, the sun in a much lower position than he remembered, Nijiro blinking in confusion as Sakurada smiles at him, Fanta eagerly coming up to his owner and pawing at his pant leg.

“ Ah, thank you for watching over them for a bit Murakami! They weren’t too much for you, were they?” Sakurada bends down to pet his dog, Fanta barking happily with tail wagging. Nijiro merely smiles, waving it off. Merry and Misao run out as well, past Sakurada and to two figures standing by the car towards the streets, Nijiro recognizing them as Yanagi and Tsuchiya, their dogs obviously excited to see them.

Sakurada straightens back to his full height, only leaving Nijiro to have to look upwards to keep eye contact, Sakurada smiling at him. “ Thanks so much, I swear I’ll pay you back for this, okay? Maybe a really nice bottle of strawberry milk!” “ Yeah yeah, whatever. Just…. maybe next time could we do this at your house? Suddenly dropping them off here didn’t give me much options-" “ Brilliant idea! Hey, maybe you can be our friendly dog sitter when we can’t leave a hire for it? Our dogs obviously seem to like your company!" “ Well, maybe not everyday, but sounds like a nice idea.” Nijiro tells him. To be perfectly honest, he was still a little unsure, but the dogs were fairly simple, so maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to continue, right? Right.

Sakurada smiles and nods in confirmation. Nijiro waves as Sakurada leaves his front door and comes back to the other two, both of which give Nijiro a brief wave and nod of acknowledgement before they, along with their dogs, all hop into the car and nyoom off.

Nijiro shuts his door, leaning against it with a sigh. “ Good golly is watching over dogs that much? I thought I’d be buried!”

#not alice in borderland #sakurada dori #murakami nijiro #yanagi shuntaro #tsuchiya tao #at least their dogs behave #even if they do want to play fetch with shampoo #nijiro has no idea what he's doing he's just existing in the same zone as them #ask

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not-a-healthy-human · 2 years ago

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I've had a trash day so here! Have some post wenclair headcanons!

Wednesday still sleeps as if she's in a coffin, tho, Enid does grab her as if she were a plushy (if Enid is already asleep, Wednesday goes as far as to take a fistful of her jumper and clinging to it)

Morticia and Gomez plotted to get Enid adopted, but then Wednesday comes in like, "mother, father, I'm currently courting Sinclair" and they start plotting their wedding instead. They need to make the werewolf an Addams by any means necessary

Enid once wore all black to one of their anniversary dates, Wednesday had to take like 5 minutes just to compose herself (a week later she 'got her back' by wearing a black suit and a pink rose on it)

Enid barks at the ghouls whenever they stay at Wednesday's (I say whenever as of she didn't practically move in)

Wednesday got Ajax to stone himself in many occasions to "assert her dominance over her partner's ex"

Wednesday learned some of Enid's favourite songs on her cello and plays them when the pup has nightmares

Enid spoils herself of any horror movie Wednesday wants to see with her so that 1. She can see it without fainting and 2. Cuz she noticed Wednesday actually does like the movies, and likes discussing them later, and when hiding for half of it on your partner's arms you do tend to not grasp everything in the plot

They play fetch on full moons, once in a while Enid will bring a dead animal or two for Wednesday

Neither could get their driving license (Enid got distracted and Wednesday threatend the evaluator when they tried to put on some music), so even as fully grown adults, lurch drives them around

Pugsley once changed Wednesday's shampoo for Enid's hair dye and no one saw him for a literal week (Enid loved the look)

#wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair #gomez and morticia

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stevenbasic · 2 years ago

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GITJ Post 275: It's Not My Birthday, p4

“Come back up into my lap,” Melissa sweetly urged me. She had let me rest for a while, sitting with her and her Hooters uniform back in her desk chair following a mind-blowing handjob. I’d enjoyed the blissful, mindlessly indulgent comfort of her body and nearly fell to sleep against her shoulder after my second climax of the day. But before I could drift off she’d stood me, stripped me right there in her (presumably locked), sun-filled office, peeling my beer-, cake- and cum-soaked costume tights from me. Cleaning my legs, groin and face with a package of wet-wipes she had in her desk, she’d clothed me again. My top was still okay, and boxers amazingly weren’t too soiled - I’d grown past the lower hem of them in my earlier erection, so no jizz, just a bit of beer. But she didn’t want me wearing them, and my old Mr. Fantastic spandex pants may be a goner; she’d dropped them in a trashbasket aside her desk.

Next, in an perhaps misguided attempt to preserve my dignity, she changed me into her old hooters shorts from another drawer, a pair she’d outgrown and had needed to replace with the ones she wore now. I’d told her I could - haha, I lived right above her office - just head upstairs to put on something else, but she’d hear none of it. I knew I looked silly in the high-waisted booty-shorts, but I was in no state to argue. They were, even though too small on her, entirely too baggy on me, falling off my bony hips. So, ever-the-tailor, Melissa had fetched a safety pin from her drawer, pinned the waistband in back. They fit like oversized boxer-briefs, and I wore nothing underneath. But now they didn’t fall down. ‘Perfect! And now we match!’ she’d insisted, giggling in amused glee, both of us in bright orange nylon shorts. The effect they had on her, all luscious, powerful curves, was entirely different than what they had on me. It should be too humiliating to tolerate, but my mind was still clouded by bliss, being here with this tall, beautiful girl who by all accounts and despite all conventional wisdom seemed to really, really dig me. So, yeah, sue me - I didn’t complain, even about the shorts.

“You like being in my lap?” she asked as she used another wipe to clean a missed smear of frosting from near my ear, having pulled me up again onto her big, strong thighs once again after getting me dressed, “Hm, sweetie?”

Intentional or not, the tender, affectionate manner in which Melissa was treating me was working wonders. I was doing anything this woman asked, and reveled in every moment. “Yeah…” I agreed, “thank you…”

“You’re not embarrassed?” she asked, as a gentle wave of her perfume settled over me, “When I hold you like this? In my lap?”

Embarrassed? Is that it? “N-no, I’m not embarrassed,” I replied. It wasn’t embarrassment, per se, that I felt when she treated me like this. It was something else. “N-no…not when it’s just us here.” I breathed her in, watched as she idly played with my hand with one of her own. I smelled the sweet, clean scent of her shampoo, admired the tan perfection of her muscular legs. She was bouncing me, I could feel, gently with her healthy thighs. The motion of her body, the rhythm of her breaths, her gentle heartbeat, was comforting. “I..I sorta like it.”

To that she purred, and with her free arm pulled me tighter to her. She and I had something. It was unspoken, but we could both tell. “I love holding you. I love picking you up. I love carrying you,” she spoke, warmly, “It makes me feel so strong, so protective, so good. I only let you walk out of that party by yourself so you wouldn’t be embarrassed if I picked you up and carried you in front of the other girls.”

I chuckled, maybe a bit nervously, imagining the scene.

“Would you have…liked that, though?” she continued, wrapping her fingers into mine, our hands embracing as she held me, “Do you like it when I carry you?”

I thought back on the times she’d held me, lifted me, carried me. First back at the conference, that drunken night. Then our date. Being in her arms made me feel so…fragile, weak, small. She was obviously so much stronger than I was, and it was an undisguised demonstration of the difference in our sizes and physical abilities. It was emasculating, yes, but at the same time being held by her like that made me feel so safe, so secure, so loved. It spoke to some deeper, darker urges as well. ”y-yess…” I admitted, my voice betraying the new arousal I felt, “...I…I l-like it when you carry me.”

Under me, aside me, I felt Melissa shiver. I think my meekness, here, along with my contentment, was moving her. “You like it when I hold you, up in my arms, against my chest?” she asked, hugging me a little tighter still, breasts wrapping around my shoulder, “Like a…like a…well…”

I shuddered, with the new, even more nurturing vibe she was embracing, a new electricity between us. She was suggesting something we were maybe both thinking, but of which I couldn’t speak.

“Would you like me to carry you to bed, baby?” she asked.

I spoke before I could even gasp, let alone think. “y-yes,” I answered.

Then, before I knew what was happening, Melissa took her hand from my own to reach down below me to firmly cup both my buttocks in a single, big hand, bent over me and - using her other hand behind my back - straightened. standing, lifting me with her until I was cradled in her arms, my eyes just below her own.

“There we go, sweetie. Mommy’s got you!” she giggled with a spark and sparkle in her eyes that was half mischief, half sexy tease, and seemed ready to light a larger flame.

“M-Melissa…” I could stammer, but that was it.

She sensed my trepidation. “Shhh…don’t worry,” she assuaged, “I’m just feeling very maternal around you right now. It’s normal for girls these days…”

“O-okay..” I agreed, my heart racing with the promise, the portent of the moment.

“...so just let mommy carry her little man in her arms,” she continued, a big smile of amusement on her face. She’d begun to walk, to carry me. Looking down at me, she saw I had no complaints. “That’s right…that’s a good boy…” she cooed, curling me into her.

No, I had no complaints. Yes, I was groggy. Yes I was still half-drunk on the intimacy we’d just shared. But the fact of the matter was, as much make-believe as it might have been, it felt kinda nice, being treated like this. Playing mommy-baby haha…

“My little boy feels so light in my big strong arms..!” she giggled, rocking me back and forth as she walked, slowly, across the room. Towards the door.

hey wait my room is just up those stairs, back there. where are we going..? I began to think, struck from my reverie. I started to shift in her arms. Why was she reaching for the door handle, out to the hallway??

She sensed my consternation, my confusion. “Sweetie, you have to say ‘goodbye’ and ‘thank you’ to all the ladies,” Melissa said, as she opened the office door - able to hold me with one arm, “They went through so much trouble for your birthday party.”

“i-it’s not my birthday…” I said, reflexively, finding now a little strength to complain as I pictured being carried like this, in these silly shorts, apparently back to the gaggle of girls celebrating in the breakroom. “...and, uh, we d-don’t really need to, uh…” The thought of it, of being carried back to them like some shy kid being brought downstairs to say goodnight (though it was barely midafternoon) to a houseful of aunties, was beginning to make me shiver. I started, in fact, to struggle a bit as we stepped into the hall and she set to close the door behind us. But, before I could even free a limb or say another word her hand came up behind my upper back and shoulders to grip the back of my head and force my open mouth to hers. At first, instinctIvely, I pushed against her broader shoulders with my small hands, but she barely registered my effort and set to kissing me, hard.

“MMMMmmph!!” I gasped, eyes wide but feeling my cock suddenly spring to life, somehow again, as a spasm of desire shot through my body. Her tongue tasted of her, having already fully pushed itself into my mouth and quelling my protests. I struggled my best for another moment or two, but quickly surrendered to her bosomy, muffling embrace and the muscle of her tongue moving over mine, in towards my throat. I began sliding my arms up and around her smooth, surprisingly solid traps and long neck, returning her quelling kiss with an ardor that almost matched her own.

“Do you like the taste of my tongue on yours?” she purred, breath into my mouth after her tongue had its way, we’d kissed a bit and she was confident I’d stopped struggling, “It’s so warm, isn’t it?”

“Oh my god yes…” I capitulated, realizing just then that - as we’d been kissing - she’d continued to carry me, walking, and we’d arrived back outside the breakroom.

She’d paused, though, just before the doorway, and returned to kissing me. Neither of us wanted the moment to end, apparently, the last few private seconds before returning into the crowd. But, eventually, she broke her lips from mine.

“P-p-please…” I found myself pleading, just as she began to step again towards the party. I knew it was futile, my protest…just my ego acting on instinct.

“Shhh….it’ll be okay,” she assured me, turning the corner of the doorway and into the brighter light of the breakroom…and the bevy of bodies within, “they all need to see you like this.” She looked down into my eyes beatifically and nodded, just as all the other sets in the place turned to us. “Look who’s here to say goodnight!” she then announced, clearly, to her covey of already-clucking, already cooing hens but still watching my face adoringly, “one last chance to see him before we send him off to bed…”

Turning my head, I looked sheepishly into the crowd of assembled jigglebunnies, my staff, her Hooters battalion. They were all grinning, smiling, gasping and heaving, as if overcome by the sight of their Queen Bee, Melissa, holding the tiny king in her arms. “Ohhhh my god look at him!” someone called, “That is so adorable!!!”

“Nice shorts…” I heard someone comment, but otherwise all their attention was focused on us, Melissa and I.

An all-emcompassing ‘AWWWWWWwwwwwwwww…!!!’ followed, like a wave of female rapture, and the crowd moved as one towards us. Even so, Melissa moved as well, into them, so I could be received. Wide-eyed, I looked around as soft hands came to pet my messy hair, as bouncing bosoms danced in front of my slacked jaw, as gazes and smiles painted with gloss welcomed me back into the fold with amused glee and an unmistakable ardor. They were, yes, it seemed, excited to see me. But there was something else, something else was going on. Or, if my spidey-senses were correct, something else had just been going on, and they were still stirred, like a bit intoxicated, trying to recover. There was heavy breathing, like girls catching their breath. There were fingers running through hair that had come out of place, maybe in a recent moment of peak pleasure. There were some in the back talking excitedly to one another. Weird, and that was without me even noticing the fist-sized hole in the wall next to the plant, the cabinet door torn off its hinges, or the set of scratches down the front of the soda machine.

As Melissa did her rounds with me, laughing gaily and encompassing me with her perfume, I found myself in a surprisingly rare mood where even this, which should rank as one of the most humiliating moments of my career, didn’t really bother me that much. Or, at least, as much as it should. I wasn’t struggling, I wasn’t asking to be put down, I wasn’t even frowning. I was set on being part of the fun even if it meant sacrificing more of my dignity in the name of it. These were my people now; this was my place. Melissa held me, the girls surrounded me. It was soft and safe and it smelled really, really good. I didn’t fight, complain or mope. In fact-

“Ooooo look at him smile when I do this!” squealed Lexie, a tall, sharp-featured brunette and one of our new “Marketing Executives” as she pinched my cheek and made me, indeed, smile. My reaction brought on a chorus of coos and caused more of the girls to dig even deeper into the charade, a crowd of them all mischievously leaning in to take their turn pinching my cheeks, tickling my sides and laughing.

“He’s so cute!” lauded the bleach-blonde Katie, a natural in her uniform.

“Yes Missy you must be so proud!” added the redhead Julia, “And he’s being such a good boy!”

That brought on another tidal wave of female laughter, Melissa included. “Yes I’m very, very proud of my little man!” Melissa clucked, joggling me up and down in her arms a bit indulgently, as if showing off her maternal skills to the crowd, “Being so brave!”

The women surrounding me, if anything, drew in even closer, all looking down into my wide, searching, overwhelmed eyes, booping my nose or playing with my ears. I tried to say something but my voice had died in my throat long ago, so instead I just took in their adulations and did my best to play along. This was all for fun, right?

“He is the behave so very well for you,” complimented Morgan, the big Eastern-European nurse whose powerfully voluptuous body threatened to burst from her Hooters top.

“He’s not complain at all,” added bosomy, Polish new-mom Katarina, currently stroking my cheek, “such the good boy.”

“He is, isn’t he?” purred the proud, proud Melissa, still holding me like a treasured child, in this game we were playing. She beamed down at me, reassuringly, and her smile told me to be patient, we’ll be alone soon. “But my little guy is tired,” she said to the surrounding group, “I’m going to need to get him up to bed.”

That brought a new chorus of ‘awwwwws..!’, this time in good-natured protest. “Oh you can’t take him home just yet!” Shanette grieved, as someone else - Nicole? From Accounts Payable? - grabbed one of my feet possessively.

“Yeah neither of you have really eaten much, Missy,” Shanette continued, “Why don’t you go fix yourself a plate and we’ll take care of your little guy for you?”

“He can sit in my lap..!” offered Katarina.

“No mine!” laughed Nicole. Melissa, in the meantime, was shaking her head in mirth.

“How about mine?” came a new voice, as a bit of the crowd parted and Mallory, a new hire in Accounts Receivable and possessor of the widest hips I’d ever seen. I watched as the redhead slowly rolled them, four feet around if they were an inch, walking now towards us as the other girls all started to cheer her. Stretching her overmatched orange booty shorts to the max, she sat on an empty chair nearby, and patted her prodigious lap.

“How ‘bout it, sweetie?” Melissa asked me, in a private aside, “If we each have something to eat, then I take you home?” Her eyes were glittering like jewels.

I swallowed, dryly, and looked back over to Mallory, who waited expectantly on the small breakroom chair, big fleshy thighs overwhelming the poor thing and anticipating my presence.

“o-okay,” I found the strength to say, smiling what I hoped was a brave smile but was probably more tremulous than strong. The beam of a grin I got from Melissa, though, a gift of beauty from above and reward for my mettle, made me feel better. I’d done the right thing.

Before I knew it, Mallory was leaning back, allowing Melissa to gently lower me into her waiting lap. It was soft and warm, for sure, more pillowy than Melissa’s firm, more muscular seat. I sank into it, and her, and looked sheepishly into her widely-grinning face. She was an earthy beauty, big of features and bones, more auburn-haired than red, I guess. I’d never really spoken to this young woman before.

“Hi cutie,” she finally said, like the cat that’d caught the canary. Her hand fell onto my thigh and suddenly I was surrounded...

“Here’s some cake, Doctor J!”

“He should have some wings first!”

“Yeah the poor boy must be starving!”

I began being fed - like, actually hand-fed - by my staff, sitting there in my new Accounts Receivable girl’s lap. As humiliating as it was, I have to say I was kinda sorta getting used to it. A fork with mashed potatoes, a french fry slipped between my lips. A beer tipped into my throat. Food, catered by Hooters. Not great, and something about my taste was off - lots of food had been for a while, now - but I took what was offered. And it was more about the overbearing attention, their overwhelming attentiveness than the dry chicken or salty fried pickles. It was the delicate fingers slipping bites tenderly through my lips, urging me to chew carefully. They loved it, they loved it, laughing and giggling and snapping photos. What is it about girls these days, finding it so entertaining to hand-feed men?

Hennish mollycoddling, yes - and I was a man, wasn’t I? A self-sufficient, full-grown man. It rankled my pride, for sure, but I tried to play along…it was secretly thrilling, in fact, being treated by all these pretty girls like this, like a treasured charge too delicate, too preciously feeble to feed himself. I did have my misgivings, but just as I started to feel like it was getting to be too much, too smothering, I would be met with a deep breath of perfume, or meet Melissa’s encouraging gaze from across the room, and I would smile and once again try to have fun, maybe looking into the amused face of whomever’s lap I was currently sitting, or take another swig of beer from an offered cup.

Yes, they did pass me around. After Mallory I was moved to another lap - Shanette’s, all coconut-scented skin and the softest hair ever. Then the blondes Katarina, and then Kori - whose boobs were hugest among those three I couldn’t say. “Now it’s my turn!” cried Josie, “Now mine!” called Katie. Everyone wanted a turn with me, a chance to hold their shrunken little boss on their shapely, womanly lap, bare thigh to bare thigh. I maintained, I must say, a pretty positive game face, trying to be a good sport and just drink my beer, male ego be damned, I figured. I was doing so well ignoring the collapse of my dignity and having some fun that I almost nearly kinda forgot my life was falling apart.

But, a person can only take so much. And as the afternoon bore on - I’d been lapsitting with the staff for probably forty-five minutes - the drinking and accumulating hormones were beginning to have their effects on the crowd. The girls became more aggressive, hands were finding their ways to places they shouldn’t. A boob - Marisela’s, I think, at this point, was squashed into the back of my head. It rubbed into me, as a darkly-painted finger found its way between my lips.

“Don't do that too much to the young boy,” Amelia dry-scolded, “he'll grow up to be a pervert.”

“Too late!!” Marisela laughed sharply, playing with my tongue with the dagger of her digit. “Suck it,” she commanded me and - a shiver of fear quivering through my chest - I did. Marisela, a longtime employee of mine, had a new streak in her that was darkly unpredictable. Her nail tasted of something metallic.

Amelia was standing over us, all big platinum hair and blue eye shadow, watching me suckle Marisela’s finger. She seemed nonplussed. “So, doc,” she began, “when you started dating Melissa you thought you were getting just one mommy girlfriend…” She checked her nails. “…looks like you got a whole collection.”

“haha y-yeah I uh-"

Suddenly - OOOF!! - I was slammed in the face by something very soft, very big.

“Kiki get that thing out of our faces!” Marisela yelped, half in jest and half in - yeah - fear of us being knocked over.

The owner of the enormous, orange-clad ass looked back over her shoulder and pouted, reaching back and running her hands all over her swollen rump. Lakshmi, again, not knowing the mass, orbit, or gravitational pull of her gigantic new bottom. “Oh! I’m sorry! It’s just that it’s getting bigger every day…” she said, biting her lip, “Don't you think so, Dr. J?” She looked earnestly a bit confused but then, though, stood up on her tiptoes, causing her ass to flex and look even bigger. Then she dropped it back down in front of my face and jiggled it around.

“Don’t mind Kiki,” Amelia droned, “She’s had three Amaretto Sours and she’s-“

“Really tipsy!” Lakshmi laughed, an unmissable slur to her voice, “Me and my big, big bottom…”

I stared, at my young medical assistant’s ass, absolutely mesmerized. My cock had hardened long ago, back to life and twitching and throbbing up past the waistband of Melissa’s shorts, up into my loose spandex shirt.

“It’s big now but I want it to be so much bigger though,” Lakshmi then whined, in an uncharacteristic moment of self-indulgence, gyrating her great, gluteal globes from side to side, bouncing it around cartoonishly. She arched her lower back, sticking her ass out even further, making it look even more obscenely big. “Boys like big butts these days, don’t they, Dr. J?” she asked me, starting to sway her wide hips from side to side in a slow, achingly sexual dance.

“Boys like big everything,” Amelia answered, caught back up again in the finer details of her latest manicure.

“Speaking of big…” came a new voice, lower and more smoky. Suddenly a hand was at my middle, gripping me around the shaft through my spandex top. It caused my eyes to nearly cross, my jaw dropping open. “…Missy!” Randi continued, calling out to her friend, “Someone here’s got a boner..!”

Thankfully my erection - which had reannounced itself a while ago, under the doting attentions of all these attractive girls and their strong perfumes - had crept upwards towards my belly rather than down my thigh. My long, loose-enough shirt had been able to hide it to this point but Lakshmi’s new display invigorated the monstrous thing to new heights and, now, untaped, it was tenting out the lower half of my spandex Fantastic Four costume top obscenely.

Suddenly Melissa was there, gazing down at me, the girls, and Randi’s hand on my cock.

“I think this belongs to you?” Randi asked her.

Melissa laughed. Everyone did, in fact. Even I tried, a little (what had come over me?!?) to laugh along. A little chat ensued about me, up and over my head as I sat there in Marisela’s lap. I was trying to follow it but then suddenly a voice appeared in my ear, whispering -

“Once you’re done playing your little pretend baby-games with these girls,” it hissed, “you come to me and I’ll show you what a woman can do. I’ll make you an infant. I know that’s what you want.”

Heart suddenly in my throat, the voice disappearing, I looked up to see Angie, like the others in full-on Hooters garb, standing up from her crouch and looking down on me with an imperious smirk. Had the other girls heard that? I immediately thought, but knew right away they hadn’t. They were still blithely all chatting, Lakshmi snorting and doing something with her bra.

Randi, though, had felt my cock surge, and cast Angie a wary eye as the dark-haired girl turned away towards the drinks table. Randi gave me an indulgent squeeze, and looked in my eyes, trying to read my gaze through my heavy, fluttering lids. I think she was about to ask me something but was cut off by her friend’s voice:

“Anyway, I have to get him home,” Melissa announced, seemingly oblivious that Randi still casually held the obviously-outlined shaft of my erection through my shirt. In a moment, though, all hands had left me and the girls watched as my giant Amazon of an Office Manager picked me up under the arms, in front of everyone. This time, she sat me on her right hip; I threw my arms around her neck. The girls all hooted and hollered as she smiled, magnificently ebullient as we left and I wanly waved goodbye.

She began to carry me home, out and away from the party.

“I’m so proud of you, coming back and being brave,” she beamed, holding me easily with her one arm as we walked down the empty hall, “the girls loved seeing you like that.”

“l-like…like what?” I asked tentatively, Melissa’s teased-out mane of soft, dark hair flowing into my face as we turned a corner, heading back to her office where spiral steps would lead us upstairs.

“Well, just like you’ve gotten more comfortable with me, let your guard down over time,” she explained, “I could see you doing it with them, too, my friends. I loved that, I loved seeing that.” She smiled at me, as she reached out to open the oversized door to her elegant office. “I want to see you do that more, open up with them,” she continued, stepping us into the room, bright with afternoon sun, “We can all be one big, happy family that way, no…boundaries.”

What, exactly, is she implying? I wondered. Yes, these were her friends, most of them. Yes she felt close to them. But weren’t we, she and I, like, becoming a thing? Did she really want me to have a…a…a harem?

She shifted me on her hip, preparing for the walk up the stairs, and felt my hardness against her side. “Oh yes, that,” she pouted with pity, pausing for a moment to glance down for a second and then look into my eyes, “You poor thing. Didn’t I just take care of this? Twice?”

“y-y-yes but…” I began, suddenly flushing in embarrassment. What actually was my problem? How could this-?

“How many times a day can this happen to you?” Melissa asked, as she slowly began to ascend the steps up to my apartment, crouching a bit and taking care not to bump either of our heads. At seven feet tall in her heels, it was a challenge on this tight spiral staircase.

“h-how many t-times?” I stammered, caught a bit off guard but recalling weekend days recently where, left to my own devices, I’d found myself having jerked off more than a dozen times amidst bouts of falling unconscious in exhaustion. I…I couldn’t tell her that, or that it was to pictures of her I’d hoarded on my phone. That wasn’t something of which I should be proud, so I decided to be vague. “a bunch…”

“Oh, sweetie,” she fretted, reaching the top of the stairs with us and moving towards my door. The rest of the upper hallway had been sealed off for construction, the other tenants long gone; in fact, I could hear the distant sound of hammering through the raw plywood. “That must be such a burden,” she continued, opening my apartment door for us. Her voice was caring, laden with concern but also piqued with a curious interest, approaching a fascination. “Has it been that way all your life?” A new wave of perfume, arising from her hair, the skin of her neck and bare shoulders, made me shiver in pleasure as I breathed it in.

“Ah, uh…no,” I answered, flushing again with ignominy, “It’s just been like..”

“...recently?” she applied, as we’d stepped into my beggarly little place. She closed the door behind us. There was still enough sun coming through my tiny window for us; the lightswitch remained off.

“Um, yeah…” I answered, as she continued to carry me into the room. My bed was to the right, a small sitting spot with a threadbare couch to the left, and the kitchen area in the back left corner.

“How recently? Since I got here? All the other girls?” she continued, that flicker of curiosity in her questions starting to spark a bigger flame, “Does it have to do with us?”

“Uh, well, I, uh…” I began, struggling, as she stood with me, still cradled on her right hip, down at the foot of my bed. Our eyes were nearly even, looking into each other. “...yes,” I admitted, “I guess so…”

The flicker, the spark, the nascent flame flared. She lowered me down to stand on my own two feet and watched my face follow her as she became, in my eyes, taller and taller and taller, rising up and up above me. Seven feet in her heels, nearly two feet taller than I was. Her massive bosom threatened to obscure her face, and I visibly shivered.

A smile curled her lips. “Were you turned on today by us all being taller than you? Being smaller than all my friends?” she asked, gazing down on me with an intrigued expression, “Sitting in the girls’ laps? Did you like that?”

I watched as she bent over, turning down the covers of my bed for me. Despite my recent state of affairs, my bachelorhood, I still felt it important to make my bed every morning. She fluffed my pillow, readying it for my night. Was she actually going to be putting me to bed, this early in the afternoon? I was exhausted but yikes. I also felt guilty, not just in obviously leering at her mind-blowing figure as she leaned over and tended to things with my bed, but in admitting to her how her friends had got me excited. I figured I should be honest. “Y-yes, but-”

“So you like tall women, hm?” she asked, as she stood up erect once more, stepping in again closer to me.

“Err... w-w-what?" I stammered, immediately nervous. There was heat in the air between us now, being fanned from her growing fire. I felt it, and I began to sweat.

"You like my new heels?" she asked, smirking, watching me glance down at her feet to appreciate once again the impressive, platform pumps she’d been wearing all afternoon. White, patent leather and made for - who? Giant strippers?

I would have made a comment about it but, honestly, I’d seen more and more women - in the media, out and about - wearing things similar. "It, yeah haha…seems that girls like those kinds of shoes, these days," I remarked nervously, pointedly not necessarily answering her question. What kind of man would admit he liked his partner to tower two feet above him?

”Yeah, we sure do," she said with a wink, "Because I think there's something else to all this." With that, she stepped even closer to me, so that our bodies were nearly touching, face-to-ribcage. She put her finger under my chin, both to tilt it up a bit and to turn it to look at she and I together in the mirror that was on the back of the door, a few feet away. “I mean, look at us,” she began again, as we both looked at our reflections in profile, took stock of the difference in our sizes - which was remarkable. She stood head and shoulders and then some above me. Both of us were in the same orange nylon shorts, but her legs were dramatically longer, thicker, looking nearly to be the mass of my entire body. Her torso had the dramatic curves of a fit, gym-toned woman blessed by nature with fertile bosoms and a tiny waist. My male body, on the other hand, looked small and out-of-shape, skinny and wan. Her shoulders were wider, her hips were broader. She, a woman, dwarfed me, a man. “This is not what people used to consider ‘normal’, is it?” she continued, “But that’s what’s changing. This is getting to be the new…idea? What do you call it?”

“I-Ideal?” I offered, transfixed. This…what she was talking about. It was like an unspoken current all around us, all through society, the changes taking place. Not physical, but what people…wanted.

“Yes! Ideal!” she beamed, “This is what people want, now. Totally in style. It’s not what’s really happening out there yet, but look at us…this is so cool. Look…” At that, she stepped even closer to me, straightened her back up just a bit and I watched in the mirror as her breasts raised up over my crown. She then slowly relaxed again and her tits lowered to rest on my head, heavy. With her arms then draping themselves around my torso, it looked like I was nearly disappearing into her. “Why does the man have to be the tallest anymore? The biggest and strongest?” she asked me, “What´s wrong with having your girlfriend be taller? Your wife stronger? Don´t you agree?”

“Uh-uh…uh…y-yeah…” I muttered, face planted into her ribcage, “right.” Right then, it felt pretty nice to me.

Melissa giggled. Was she amused at the sight of us? At the new, changing state of the world? Or was she just a giggler?

“I mean, love is love, right?” she continued, tenderly rubbing my lower back, holding my scrawny body to hers, “Men are men, women are women. What´s wrong with me being taller than you? Does that make you feel like less of a man?”

“N-no, it doesn´t,” I said, surprising even myself with my own broad-mindedness. I guess I didn’t feel like ‘less of a man’ but being around her I did indeed feel smaller. But that’s not what she meant.

“In fact, I think men these days secretly wish they could get smaller. Be smaller. Be smaller than girls. I’m starting to hear about it more and more,” she said, as her fingers had begun to play with the safety pin holding up my oversized shorts, pinning the waistband tighter in back, “So you - <giggle!> - you’re one of the lucky ones!”

“haha,” I laughed, with false bravery. Losing height, weight, was still kinda scary.

Just then, I heard the faint <snap> behind me, and felt the waistband of the shorts I was wearing loosen. She’d undone the safety pin, and pulled her hands away. I felt the air on me as - me not wearing my underwear, which had been beer-stained earlier - the shorts fell to my ankles. I closed my eyes, knowing what the sight of it must be, nine inches of me standing at attention between our bodies, nearly pressed into her thighs.

If she was looking at it, in the mirror, she made no comment. Rather, Melissa stepped back a bit, placed her hand onto my head, covering nearly my full pate with it. Then she ruffled my hair as she spoke again. “I´m glad you think that way, and I´m glad you kinda like me. It might be really hard for me to find someone who, well, doesn´t mind me being so tall.”

I looked up at her, blinking, not saying anything as she continued.

“I mean, there´s always been guys who couldn’t handle being one inch shorter than me,” she said, “but you´re so much different.”

“I am?” I spoke.

Melissa giggled. “Oh, c’mon…” she said, a little curl to her smile, “I think you like it in some way, don’t you? Being short? Getting shorter? So much shorter than me?”

"Uhm...M-M-Melissa ..." I began. This…this was some sort of medical condition I had!

"Muh-muh-muh-Melissa what?" she giggled down at me, teasing, "Don't you think it’s awesome now that I'm so tall? I know, I know…it might be a little embarrassing, being seen with me, because of your stupid little male ego. But don't you think it’s pretty cool, me having this growth spurt, getting so tall?"

Getting? Still? "y-y-yes," I admitted, stammering an answer before even thinking. My cock, still at the ready, seemed to have full control of my vocal cords. How alarm bells weren’t going off in that moment - her admitting to growing, all the while as I’ve been getting shorter - I’ll never know. Well, no. I know now but that’s for another time. Anyways -

"HA! I knew it! I was right again about you!"

“w-what?” I managed, putting on a wan smile, brow knitted.

She bit her bottom lip, fetchingly, looking down at me. She thought on her next words carefully, paused to consider me. “So, I bet you´re turned on just by having to crane your neck up so much to look at me,” she posited, “Do you like it? Having to look up to such a tall woman?”

I…god help me…nodded.

She smiled. “And, do you like how big my boobs are? Look…they’re bigger than your head…”

At that, we both turned again to the mirror. She’d put her hands on her waist, pulled her shoulders back, dramatically demonstrating the size of her jaw-dropping chest in no uncertain terms, stretching her Hooters tank to its spandexy limit. In profile, her right breast did indeed look bigger than my head.

“And my butt,” she continued, pivoting herself at the waist a bit, presenting her rear into the mirror so I could appreciate its apple-bottom epicness in her tight booty shorts, “have you seen how big and round it’s getting?”

I caught myself just nodding, nodding, nodding at her, in mute fascination and agreement as my eyes remained plastered on her figure. She was the woman of my dreams, in every way, shape and form.

“I bet you feel so small next to me,” she purred, appreciating how rapt my gaze had become, how I’d started to shake, how I’d barely said a word in the past five minutes, “and I bet you like that.”

I met her eyes in the mirror, and I just swallowed. I couldn´t believe this was real, that it was actually happening, that I’d found myself in this place in life, with this young woman. I was speechless.

“So, what are we going to do?” she asked.

“wh-what…what do you mean?”

In the mirror, her eyes dropped to my throbbing, bobbing manhood, stood at an attentive angle up into the air between she and I. “Well, I can’t put you to bed like this…” she commented wryly.

“n-n-no, Melissa, it’s okay…” I said, raising my hands and backing a step away. She’d…she’d already relieved me, twice. I couldn’t have her think I-

The look on her face stopped my voice in her throat. She’d cocked her head, looking down at me, that same wry smile on her lips. Then, she decided to try something. Without a word she took a step forward, towards me, closing the space between us again. I took a step back. She took another step forward, I took another step back. The glimmer in her eyes betrayed a curious interest, a fixated amusement, and she giggled. Then she took another step, and I did the same. Again and again, over and over until my back hit a wall. But she didn´t stop there, she approached, and approached, until she pinned me to the wall...

I heard, and felt through her body, her giggle again. My head, forced to turn to the side, was just below her big breasts, the right side of my face plastered to her sternum, just below the stretched-out owl logo of her smooth white tank. My arms were frozen straight at my sides, my naked hips and erect cock pressed into her lower thighs. She moved her knee up into me and I groaned, squashed as I was between her and the wall. The wall behind me, on my back and naked bottom, was cold and hard and unforgiving. Her strong, luscious body, though, was soft and warm and enveloping, the flesh and bone and muscle of her belly, hips and legs holding me still against the wall. She didn´t even need her hands; she actually had both of them casually at her sides, from above unable to even see me under her chest.

She loved every second of this; she had me immobilized without even trying and I couldn´t step away. “How do you like this, hm? Me squishing you into the wall like this?” she asked with a giggle, pressing into me even a bit more firmly, “You certainly don’t seem to be even trying to get away.” She knew I liked this as much as she did, and wriggled herself slowly against me to heighten the pleasure for both of us. “Am I suffocating you?” she asked. Again, she couldn’t see me, dwarfed under her massive chest which squashed into the wall above me, and was maybe a bit concerned.

“n-n-nuh,” I spoke with some difficulty, as my jaw was pressed askance by her rib cage. That made her giggle, and she took the moment to relieve a bit of my distress and pull back, a touch.

At that she bent at the waist a little. Her eyes met mine and in a flash she’d peeled my shirt from off of me, leaving my smaller, thinner body totally naked. She next took the opportunity to push her huge chest into my face, nuzzling the side of my head with her breasts and then my face fully as I turned it back towards her. She cooed as I began to plant kisses on the massive swells of her white top, cleavage bulging out exposed above me. My eyes were closed, and the warmth of her chest was overwhelming and made me feel worshipful.

“Keep doing that,” she moaned, “oh, yes, sweetie, I love it…you can do that all day.” She let me kiss, kiss, kiss her breasts through her uniform, my lips starting to moisten the fabric of her top. Soon she bent down a bit more, so I could reach her exposed skin over the neckline of her tank. Her arms then gently squeezed her breasts together from the sides, giving me a face full of cleavage. “There doesn't have to be anything between your lips and them," she said softly, "They love it when you kiss them all over. Just a little more..."

“oh, my god, Melissa,” I mumbled, in between lavishing kisses to the now bare skin of her upper chest. It was so warm, so smooth and silky and perfect. She was so marshmallow soft and yet so firm. My kisses were small, but they began to linger. I fought the urge to just bury my face into her cleavage, between the huge soft swells that would envelop my head.

“Oh, Jay," she said, her hands now at my sides, holding me tight, "I've never felt better about myself than I have just recently, since I've been with you. You make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world."

I groaned, my eyes fluttering behind closed lids as I felt her grip me tighter, at the waist. The scent of her perfume was all around me. “Y-you are, you are the most beautiful woman in the world,” I spoke into her fragrant chest, feeling her shiver and sigh at my declaration. The sensation of her huge body, so strong, so overwhelming to my smaller one, was intoxicating my mind. I continued adulating her, unable to help myself. “You’re gorgeous, amazing, and I hope I make you feel like the most powerful woman in the world, too," I said.

“Oh my god you do,” she breathed, momentarily squashing her enormous right breast flatly into my face, enveloping it with her firm, pillowy softness, “but you know what else does?” She paused, my face squished into her boob, watching me helpless against her.

“w-w-what?" I managed when she finally released me for some air, my voice shivering with its own submissiveness, “wh-what makes you feel p-powerful?”

"This," she said, as suddenly the ground fell out from below me. I couldn't keep the sharp intake of air from rushing into my lungs any more than I could stop her from doing anything she wanted, and realized I was being moved. I’d felt her hands on my hips, and suddenly I was lifted, sliding up the wall, elevated to the point where my hips were pressed into the fullest part of her chest. She’d hoisted me, with the greatest of ease, pushing me up the wall until my head was above hers, my hands shooting to her bare shoulders for support. She looked up at me, watched my jaw gaping, my eyes dropping to the sight of my cock pressed now against her chest. She seemed to drink in my shocked, overwhelmed expression, savoring it.

Gently, then, she released her hands from my hips and flexed her arms together again, squeezing her breasts together and ballooning them forward, into me, swallowing my cock between them like it was nothing. She still smiled up at me, her eyes glued to mine, barely noticing my weight as those massive, uber-perfect boobs pinned me to the wall like a bug. She was holding me with her upper body pressing me into the wall and both arms now at her sides, shoulders flexed. She was holding me up with only her tits!

”h-h-how are you doing this??” I marveled, agape at the spectacle of her massive knockers in her Hooters top, wrapped around not only my manhood, but a good part of my torso, holding me aloft more than three feet off the ground.

To that, Melissa giggled. “Oh, Jay…” she laughed, “I’ve been getting really, really strong…”

“Y-you’re telling me…” I muttered, overcome, letting my hands run themselves over the obviously formidable muscles of her shoulders.

“You want me to be the most powerful woman in the world?” she said, more softly now, consciously flexing her mighty traps for me as my hands explored them, “Then that’s what I’ll be.”

“Oh my god, Melissa…” I could only moan. Then, I was subjected to the most remarkable feeling: I felt the pressure of her breasts come together, and as tucked in between them as I was, felt their huge masses squeeze against me as they lifted my body slightly. My cock sunk in deeper and immediately leapt at the sensation, and a sudden jolt of exquisite pleasure blasted through me, rocking me back as I responded to her. She had flexed, squeezed her tits together, and paused as she felt me jerk against her.

"What, Jay? Are you okay?" she asked as she looked up at my enraptured face.

"Oh, christ, Melissa…” I groaned, so incredibly turned on, “d-do that again…”

"Do what, baby?" she asked, innocently, even as she did just that: flexing her arms, shoulders, ballooning her tits upwards and lifting me along with them. It happened so fast I felt light-headed. I couldn't describe it! It was so intense, this feeling, that I was at a complete loss for words. In answer, I only groaned. That seemingly innocuous flex of her incredible chest so moved me that I couldn't articulate my thoughts. But, seeing me speechless, she seemed to read my mind: I wanted more.

Immediately her massive breasts surged against me again and my body jumped upward as the muscles of her chest now too swelled with incomprehensible power. I was being moved around like a rag doll! The feeling was simply indescribable, and the look of utter ecstasy on my face made Melissa laugh with joy.

"Oh, Jay!" she sang happily, as she slowly released the flex, lowering me gradually back down, "The look on your face! It's…it’s so much, isn’t it?”

“oh, god, yes…” I managed to mutter. The overwhelming combination of her strength and her massive boobs acting in concert, pushing my body around with utter dominance. Just the simplest flex of her arms, pecs, and shoulders was enough to pitch my entire body about like a cork bobbing in the ocean.

“You're so big but it just swallows you up, doesn’t it? My chest, my cleavage?” she asked, and then laughed with sheer exultant joy as she squeezed me upwards again. My cock surged, and already I felt the oncoming climax building itself in my loins. Unable to support myself any more, I fell forward, draping my chest onto her head, letting my arms fall limply behind her shoulders. My head bobbed on my neck. If I'd been able to see her face, I would surely have seen the look of pride and victory etched in the lines of her radiant smile.

"I have you. I really have you, don't I, Jay?” she sang happily, barely able to contain her joy. Her chest heaved with exuberant breaths, lifting me now up and down with the sheer power of her lungs. “Oh, it's so perfect!" she cried, "You, and me, like this...."

I was incredulous. Absolutely flabbergasted, absolutely exhausted, and incredulous. How was this happening?? This was the most epic tit-fuck of all time, and I was an eager - though utterly helpless - participant.

Melissa began to rock me, up and down with my hips pinned still against the wall, gently with her breasts. My eyes had been closed, but I opened them, gazed down at her massive, shapely rear as I lay draped over her, feeling each slow, muscular wave of flesh ease me closer and closer to my third climax of the day, my cock wrapped in her tits and Hooters top. “So did you like my Halloween surprise?” I heard her ask, speaking basically into my chest and upper belly, “All your Hooters girls, your waitresses?”

“hhnnnph yeah…” I moaned, between the weak thrusts I’d unconsciously began to heave into her plush chest, “s’was…s’was nice…”

Melissa giggled at my inarticulate thickness, rippling new waves of pleasure into my loins. “They were all so excited to dress up for you,” she continued, casually still tit-fucking the bejesus out of me, pinned to the wall. Each of my groans, each of my little whimpers, was like a precious little treasure as far as she was concerned. “And they all looked so nice,” she added, and finally asked, “But who's your favorite Hooters girl?”

“y-y-you are…” I responded, immediately, still staring down at her huge, muscular ass, eyes now wide.

“That’s right,” she purred, rewarding me with a subtle increase in pressure, a slight uptick in the pace of her chest’s motions, “And whose Hooters are you going to think about tonight, when you sleep?”

“y-y-yours…” I replied, instinctively, still thrusting best I could up into the deep pillowy pocket of her cleavage, “Melissa’s…”

“That’s right too, good boy,” she lauded, obviously happy to have heard me speak her name. “And whose Hooters are so big that you just want to get lost between them?”

“Oh my god yours, Melissa’s, yours…!” I nearly cried, the pace of my thrusts now climbing to match what she was doing: titfucking me in earnest, eager. She wanted me to-

“Are you going to want to come between my big Hooters?” she purred, the smile on her face - though unseen to me - wide and glorious.

“yes yes YES!” I moaned, pumping now more and more, thrusting my thin hips and monstrously oversized cock up and down, up and down, in and out of her vast, enveloping cleavage. As my climax approached, as it began to crest, I could have sworn if I heard something from downstairs. But it wasn’t coming from below us; it seemed to be just inside my head. The other girls, plain as day, were laughing, singing and exulting.

I lasted no more than a few more pumps of Melissa’s overpowering breasts. My body only bounced up and down a few more times with the massive boobs crushed into me, their fullness wrapped around my cock and hips, when I erupted into an epic orgasm. I groaned, Melissa sang out, and the girls voices from downstairs and in my head screamed in unholy ecstasy. My whole body quaked as I began to jerk uncontrollably into Melissa’s bosomy embrace, spasming wildly into her chest and now wrapping my arms around her head for dear life.

“Oh, Jay, yes!” she sang, “Yes, yes yes! Come for me!”

I whined, I groaned, I breathed in the enthralling scent of her floral shampoo as her soft hair received my grunts and barks, my face buried in it. I’d done so little - she’d basically played with me to this point like a toy, doing all the work - but I already felt myself failing, losing my consciousness, beginning to pass out even as my orgasm flowed on. My body could just not handle this much, this much of her in one day. “oh, god, Melissa,” I groaned, still in the throes of a climax now just beginning to wane, “I can’t believe this is happening…”

She laughed again, and continued to just milk me through my final thrusts. Slower, slower, slower and slower they came, the jerks and spasms wracking my spent frame. Eventually, I was done, basically, just my cock weakly twitching in its last bit of life between Melissa’s enormous tits.

"Oops," she said as she sat me back up, straightening me, and watched me jerk uncontrollably as I slowly slid, trembling, out from her cleavage. Her chest and collarbone, along with the neckline of her Hooters uniform, was thick and slimy with my expressed semen. A surprising amount, to both of us, since it was my third ejaculation of the day. "I guess I have a little more laundry to do this weekend,” she giggled, as slowly she released the pressure of her chest on my hips and I slid gradually downwards, eyes and head lolling, until I slumped down to my knees at her feet.

She stood there, looking down at me as I heaved with breaths, trying to recover but already feeling like I could fall asleep. My eyes were on her big feet, in their huge high heels. I’d reached out and was holding onto her ankle for support.

“Happy Birthday,” Melissa finally said, down to me, wiggling her toes playfully in front of my eyes.

I looked up at her, up her legs that started from the ground and went up…forever. “It’s…it’s not my birthday,” I muttered, earnestly, as if for the first time today.

She gazed down at me - proudly, beatifically, with eyes that glittered with good humor and deep affection. She was watching me, watching me now actually falling asleep after she’d consumed every bit of energy I had and then some. She smiled at me, bit her lower lip again and finally spoke.

“Not your birthday, hm sweetie?” she said, as I slumped to an unconscious heap, “Let’s just say that it is.”

==================================

So much inspiration in these chapters from so many stories by so many authors, most notably Pac. If anything sounds super familiar, it probably is. Once again I realize I go forth standing on the shoulders of giants. Plus a big thanks to Jessica Carter for again helping out with Hooterizing Melissa’s uniform in the image

Once again this is all much more fun at my Patreon

#growing into the job

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nelapanela94 · 3 years ago

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TW: major character death, widower Levi mourning.

I'm crying rn for writing this. Not proofread

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Like every night before embarking on an expedition, Levi made love to you, so gentle and sweet and slow, holding hands, intertwining fingers, reveling in every inch of your body.

Tired and sweaty, you snuggled against his shoulder, tracing hearts on his chest with you finger; the golden band glinting under the flickering light of the candle.

"Please, stay." He draped his arm over his face, shielding his eyes.

Your smile faltered, and you closed your eyes. "Don't ruin this perfect night, Levi. We already talked about it."

A knot of vines with thorns seized his throat. Arguing with you would lead to a dead end.

"I love you, Y/N." His voice was hoarse as if he was battling against tears.

"I love you too, Levi."

During your funeral, Levi couldn't stop glancing around, holding onto a shard of faith that you would enter that room. That it was a joke, the cruelest joke, but you'd be alive.

That never happened.

The urn with your ashes rested on the altar, surrounded by some of your precious belongings. You always said you wanted to be cremated, you didn't want people to remember you lying dull and cold in a coffin. It irked him, even when you seemed to be joking.

It felt surreal. People patting his shoulder, hugging him, saying 'She'll be watching over you', 'she'll live in our hearts.'

He was, but he wasn't there. The chattering floated in the air like a cloud. Heaving, he locked himself in the restroom. He ran his hands down his face and dragged in a sharp breath. Eyes red and glossy, his hands fumbling. He wanted everyone to leave, he wanted to be alone, he didn't want more embraces or condolences.

He wanted you.

That night, upon arriving to his place, your place, the appartment you bought in Trost after getting married, he slammed the door shut behind his back, then slid the latch locked.

He placed the urn on the table and urged to turn the fireplace on, stoking the firewood until it set ablaze.

Wriggling off, his clothes fell to the floor, pooling at his feet. Everything. The tie, the jacket, the white button up shirt, his pants, and briefs, shoes and socks burned in the chimney.

The flames danced in his pupils, staring from his state of emptiness, where he sheltered whenever death haunted him.

His tears vanished with the water, trickling down on his body. He stood there, under the shower, drowning his sobs. The bottle of lavender shampoo, your shampoo, was still on the shelf, and Levi fought the urge to bring it to his nose and inhale.

That would've been like adding salt and lemon to the wound.

He watched as a whirlpool formed around the sinkhole, and disappeared, taking with it his desire to continue living in a world without your smile.

Your room felt so empty, so dead. You were supposed to be here, giggling at his crappy jokes, teasing him, kissing him, loving him. He jammed his fingers in his hair, clenching his eyes shut.

He drew out an old t-shirt and a pair of briefs and slipped them on.

Bright hand painted tulips adorned the urn. He had picked the most colorful one because it reminded him of you. He slouched on the couch, the second bottle of wine half emptied on the coffee table.

"Great, Y/N. Thank you for dying and leaving me alone. You foolish brat, see, this is what you get for playing hero." His sandpapery voice chafing the air. Another swig slammed down his throat. "Don't take it personal, I'm just mad and hurt and lost. What am I supposed to do now, uh? You should have left some instructions."

His eyes stung, his tight grip threatened to break the mug. Wisely, he'd picked the wooden one.

A knock on the door startled him. He dragged himself to the entrance, and took a look through the peephole. The hall was deserted.

He clicked his tongue and turned around, and there it was. A white envelop lying on the wooden floor. He fetched it and his eyes went wide when he read the sender.

Panic surged through his joints, hands quivering as he teared it open. Levi, my sweet darling. Tears fell on the letter, blotching the ink.

Shit!

He wiped his tears with the sleeve.

His heart was thrashing between his chest and back. He leaned against the door, trying to keep his balance, because his legs were on the brink to surrender, and let himself slip to the floor.

Violent puffs of air brushed past his dried lips. He ran a hand through his hair, closed the eyes. What the fuck?

Levi shook his head and unfolded the letter. It was your handwriting, fat and neat.

Levi, my sweet darling,

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. If you're reading this it's because, you know, shit I can't even write it down. But I just did what I promised I'd never do: breaking your heart. And I won't ever forgive myself for that.

My love, my heart, my handsome (and humanity's hottest booty) I don't know when my moment will come, and hopefully this letter never reaches your hands, but I have to do this. I have to say goodbye to you properly because I don't know if I'll be lucky to take my last breath in your arms. Though it'd be selfish to you. However, I prefer that than dying alone and scared.

The day before yesterday, I was, as most of the soldiers embarking on their first expedition, a foolish, fearless dreamer who believes they're invincible.

Today, I'm writing this in the infirmary. A dislocated shoulder. I consider myself a lucky one. Levi, I'm fortunate to be back in your arms. I'm grateful to life or fate or whatever force controlling us for granting me another chance to be with you. To hug you, to kiss you, to make love to you (because my honeybun, we were molded for each other)

This is the life I chose and I'm well aware of the consequences. After my first expedition, after facing death and dodge her, I realized how vulnerable we are. At any moment she can't swaddle her veil on us.

Right now, you're here asleep by my side. You should see how adorable you look when you're relaxed, when you take a rest from being humanity's strongest soldier. Just you, Levi. I never thought you'd turn out this clingy. It seems you only fall asleep when I'm with you. (I'm not the slighliest sorry for bragging), but after we got married, your sleeping habits improved, and I'm proud of you.

Do you remember the day you propose? The sun lit up the tulip fields, you so handsome in that suit, and Levi, the ring. I bet you spent at least three paychecks on it. Now I understand why you scrimped on tea back then. It was all formality, you and I know I would've said yes one and a million times. You were so nervous, your hands trembled, but your voice didn't crack.

Then you kissed me, tender and passionate, too drunk in bliss and love we scramble onto the ground. You cursed because you got your suit dirty, and I laughed until it hurt.

It was the sweetest and most romantic dream in the world.

Levi, (I love writing your name as much as I like saying it) again, I'm painfully sorry I died. (Damn, that was hard.) I know you know that already. High chances are you're weeping on the floor, drinking all the wine left at home. You'd better be drinking from a wooden mug rather than a glass. I don't want shards dug in your palm.

Did I have a good ending Levi? Was I brave or did I pee in my pants? Did I do something heroic? If it was embarrassing, please make up a good story.

Levi, I loved you, every single day. From thew moment I first met you I knew it, I knew you and I were meant to be together. I knew you were to become my husband, Levi Ackerman. (Though, I didn't know you were an Ackerman back then)

I don't know for how long we'll be together in the world of living things. I hope that if you ever receive this letter, it'd be when you're hair turns white, and you have wrinkles on your face and thew house is full of grandchildren making noise and getting on your nerves.

But I don't control the strings of destiny.

You've been through a lot, Levi, and I don't understand how life can be so cruel with the most sensitive heart. Yet I have one favor to ask you. Please don't let me be another tragedy. Please, let me be the best thing that ever happened to you. I want to be that. Our time was wonderful and magical, full of laugh and love. YOU are the best thing that ever happened to me.

And Levi, please, cry. Cry until there's no more tears left to shed, until it hurts and your eyes are red and swollen. Do it. Weep and sulk. Then, wipe off the tears and stand up, straighten your back and keep fighting. Keep fighting for you and I. I want the world to share you. Let them. You're too good to waste and they are lucky to have you. Kids look up to you, and people respect you. They put their faith in you. They say great strength comes with great responsibility, ore something like that.

You, my sweetheart, my well loved, my little brave soldier, deserve to be happy. To be full of joy. Open that tea shop you dream of. Take care of you. (Eat well. Don't forget I'll be watching you) That's what I want for you, my sweet pie.

As for me, do whatever you please. Use my ashes to plant a tree or toss them to the sea if you ever get to see it. Or just keep them in our living room. I'll always live in your heart, and it feels a nice place to be.

I loved you, I love you, I'll love you.

I was the luckiest person in the world because I had you, because I was your wife.

Thank you for our life together, the beautiful moments.

I'll see you someday. (Please, not to soon.) Meet me beneath our constellation, my beautiful husband.

Y/N

Sobbing, sniffing, Levi laid there, pathetically, the letter pressed, and crumpling against his chest. Fuck, you thought of everything, even after death. But you were asking for too much. It'd take a long time to staple his heart back together.

Joy? Dreams? He only needed you. They just wrenched you away from him, how will he ever recover?

His lower lip wobble. Stay with me.

His breathing is shallow, his chest is being smashed in an iron press. His leaden eyelids eventually shut down, and the fleeting smell of incense enfolded him.

At least, let me see you in dreams.

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #levi attack on titan #levi aot #snk levi #levi x you #levi x reader

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starswornoaths · 3 years ago

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Prompt 1: Foster

The polycule finds themselves in the company of a stray kitten that Estinien fetched from a back alley from who-knows-where.

And they're going to rehome her. No, really, honest. They're not keeping her, or anything lol

Word count: 1,900

~*~

A rare rainy day off in Ishgard— on a rarer day off, no less— had left Serella happily cuddled up in bed, under the blankets. Joined by her betrothed, and their beloved Violet, what time wasn’t spent idly dozing, was a warm, floating haze of hands and lips brushing idly where they found skin. Though they were swathed in the overcast, pale light that spilled in through the curtains, its chill was far from them, the roaring hearth, gilding the gloom where it collided, its warmth reaching beyond its light. The perfect picture of coziness.

Which was why she was particularly miffed, when their dearest Estinien stumbled in through the door, soaked to the bone, and holding his bundled up jacket to his chest: it meant that she had to get up, to investigate.

As Estinien caught his breath from sprinting in the pouring rain, his paramours all collectively, if sluggishly, opted to disentangle themselves from the blankets enough to see what on earth had made him bluster in so.

Aymeric was the first to rise from their little nest of blankets, ambling over gamely. Serella wasn’t far behind, though stilled when she heard him melt over whatever it was that Estinien had bundled into his coat.

An animal, then.

Sure enough, she neared just in time for Aymeric to reach a hand out, and be met with a sooty paw reaching up to curl its little bean toes around his index finger. He cooed again, and his posture melted further toward the bundle—ah, it was a cat, then.

“Hello, little love,” Aymeric greeted, his voice turned sing-song, and pitched a few notes higher, as it always did when he greeted an animal.

Already, Serella knew this was trouble.

All the more, when Hyana gasped as she scrambled to free herself from bed fully, hissing and cursing as a blanket stuck stubbornly to the pointed ridges at the end of her tail. Freeing herself, she stumbled over eagerly, completely blowing past Serella as she did.

After giving the two of them a few more moments to coo, she and Estinien passed a look between them, and silently agreed that it was time to be the responsible ones. For a change.

“Alright, alright, what do we have here, then?” Serella called, gently nudging them away to give the little creature some breathing room.

“Creature” almost seemed an apt description for the cat nestled within Estinien’s coat: covered in rain water and mud, it was almost impossible to tell what the cat’s true fur color was. It trembled, even pressed against Estinien’s chest—must still be cold. Those large eyes squinted up at her, as the little kitten sniffed and sneezed at her proffered hand. The cat’s shivering made its purr sound tinny, like it rattled the poor thing’s lungs just to do it.

“A bath first, before we do anything else, I think.” She said aloud.

With a breath to steel herself, Serella accepted the bundle of cat and coat in her arms, when Estinien relented to her. Despite the shivering, and the wetness of its fur, the kitten felt warm against her chest, when it immediately snuggled up to her body warmth. Reminding herself that they already had two dogs and a cat—two cats, technically, if she counted Duchess back at Borel Manor—Serella rounded the corner out of their bedroom, and into the bathroom.

Her polycule trailed in on her heels. It was hard not to liken them to a gaggle of Scholasticate kids, all crowding around the door to watch. It warmed her, how even the most standoffish of her loves couldn’t resist the draw of a cute animal.

The bathtub would be too massive, for the little kit—the sink suited just fine. Hyana was kind enough to fetch their bottle of feline shampoo, and set it on the counter for her.

As she let the water run to get a bit warmer, Serella lifted the kitten, gently, to hold it—her, Serella realized, with a glance—at eye level.

“You won’t like me for this,” she warned the kitten. “But that’s alright, it’s only temporary.”

The kitten squirmed, and licked the tip of her nose. Ignoring the way her insides turned to softened butter, Serella dutifully set to work, carefully bathing the kitten.

Unsurprisingly, the water was, at first, most unwelcome, and the cat had no scruples with voicing her complaint and trying to clamor out of the sink. For such a small thing, her wailing meows of discontent were rather loud—good. That meant her lungs were healthy. Once the warmth of the water sunk into her skin, however, she relented, somewhat, though instead sat in the shallow, warm water, and vibrated from the intensity of her disgruntled, rumbling meows.

It was hard not to liken her to a rat, watching her quake with the effort of vocalizing her displeasure. With each careful massage of Serella’s fingers into the kitten’s fur to wash away the grime, however, her true coat began to shine through.

As it turned out, her fur was still mostly black—save for her white capped paws, and her underbelly, all the way up to her chin. All downy soft, thin fur, in a sleek coat. Once she’d gotten a chance to dry out, under the careful ministrations of Aymeric drying her down with the softest, fluffiest towel he could find, she was actually a rather beautiful cat.

When she still shivered, as she finished drying, Aymeric would brook no negotiation, and immediately bundled himself—and her—back in bed, with the blankets. It seemed to be exactly where she wanted to be, as she promptly loafed herself upon his chest, and shook with her purrs.

“We need a name for her,” he said, not taking his eyes off the little kit, as her eyes began to drift shut.

“Absolutely not.” Serella tutted. “It isn’t responsible for us to take in another cat—here, or Borel Manor—and no, she doesn’t look ready to be a road companion, before you even entertain suggesting it.”

“Act like you don’t want to keep her.” Estinien scoffed. “You didn’t even ask me how I’d found her—you do that, when you do something I don’t like. You ask questions.”

“She’s a stray, you found her, and brought her here. What else is there to know?” Serella huffed, and even to her, she sounded a touch defensive.

“We can’t just turn her out after a bath, either, though.” Hyana argued, in the gentlest tone Serella had ever heard from her, as she snuggled up to Aymeric’s side to offer her hand to the kit. “She’ll have to stay for a while.”

“Until we can responsibly rehome her, of course.” Aymeric hastily added on, unconvincingly.

Serella wrinkled her nose when Estinien made a noise of agreement, even as the both of them also crawled in bed.

Once they had hemmed him in on all sides, Aymeric piped up, “But we have to call her something, in the meantime.”

When Estinien reached out to pet her, both of her paws shot out, to wrap around his hand. Her claws pricked at his skin, as she tried to force his hand over to her head. He snorted.

“Krile, perhaps? The little snot seems keen on getting her claws in me.” He grumbled, with no real venom behind his words; he hadn’t even taken his hand back.

Alas, he had already been lost to this kitten’s wiles, it seemed. Probably was, the moment he found her.

“I’ll tell Krile.” Hyana replied in that same, cooing voice, not even deigning to look at Estinien, as the kitten wriggled across the broad expanse of Aymeric’s chest, to bump her forehead against Hyana’s.

It was fascinating, watching how all three of them—powerful, stalwart warriors, all—had turned to puddles under the might of this singular kitten’s cuteness. Danuja, Vardr, and Rhalgr were already getting jealous, she realized, when she felt their collective, agitated curiosity on the fringes of her focus.

“Menphina,” she suggested, before she could stop herself. When all present turned to look at her, she elaborated, with a wry twist of her lips, “She’s certainly charmed all of you enough to warrant it.”

“…Menphina.” Hyana tried again, speaking it to the kit instead. At the curious mrr the cat trilled in response, Hyana nodded. “She likes it. It’s settled, then.”

When the weather improves, I’ll put up signs, she resolved to herself, just as the kitten laid her paw atop Serella’s hand, over Aymeric’s heart.

To her credit, she did. But the problems that trickled in after that came threefold: there was little demand for a beautiful runt, all the more of an indeterminable breed of cat. What demand there was, was often in the interest of Menphina being a “practice pet,” for a child. Fearful that that would translate to unsupervised children treating her like a toy, until she was injured, Serella would be the first—and firmest—to rebuke such offers. Add to all of that, the kitten’s propensity for extended bursts of high energy, that demanded that she be played with, ruled her out for any of the elderly candidates that applied, looking for a calm housecat.

To say that she had no success finding a suitable home for Menphina, would be a gross understatement.

Every time, she would come home, and Menphina would have to crawl out of the collective fur of Vardr and Rhalgr, just to trill up at her in greeting. And every time, Serella would have to scoop her up, and tell her how sorry she was, that it wasn’t meant to be, for that applicant.

“There will be others,” Serella reassured her, every time.

A few moons down the line saw Menphina still very much fostered in their care—to the point, that she was tucked close, huddled in the bend of Serella’s knees, as she’d curled up on the couch with a book. She’d fallen into a sort of pleasant lull, where her focus was on her book, though she could still pick up on Aymeric and Hyana chatting amicably in the kitchen.

At the mention of the date, in the midst of their conversation, Serella’s ear perked; she couldn’t recall the exact date, that Estinien had hauled this scrawny little kit in from the cold, but as she looked down at Menphina again, now filled out on good food and loving attention, she realized, with dismay, that she had not been strong enough.

“You were never a foster cat, were you?” She grumbled accusingly at Menphina.

The kitten looked up at the sound of her voice, and gave a questioning mrr?

As though she didn’t know what she had done. Smiling wryly, Serella gave her affectionate scritches between her ears.

“No, I suppose you never were, at that.”

Taking this as an invitation, Menphina unfurled herself with a long stretch that morphed into a yawn, and scampered up Serella’s hip, and settled in on the curve of her side, as though it was just for her.

Groaning, Serella let her head hit the back of the couch, as she finally admitted her defeat loud enough for the household to hear: “We’re keeping the cat.”

Amidst the giddy celebrating, she swore she distinctly heard the clink of coin being exchanged—they’d gone and taken bets, on how long it would take for her to crack.

Gremlins. Hellions, all of them. Hers. How she loved them, as they were—Menphina included.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv #Aymeric de Borel #Estinien Wyrmblood #Hyana Geriel #Serella Arcbane #unstoppable forces and immovable objects #featuring: catte #'I'll be the responsible one and say we're not adopting her' Serella said. like a liar.

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dancingazaleas · 4 years ago

Text

𖨆. 02 / all for us

summary: you’ve finally decided it was time to eat and bathe, but now that you aren’t worried about starving to death, you’re getting homesick. maybe a cup of tea and a movie is the best.

note: i, now, have a taglist for this series especially!! here’s the taglist form!! it will also be posted on the series masterlist!! much love <33

word count: +3.0k

warnings/notes: starvation, manipulation, abuse, slight panic attack, thoughts of suicide

IT'S been five days since you've had anything to eat.

your body is so weak from the lack of nutrients that you can't stand up on your own. your head is constantly aching from lack of food and you keep getting dizzy.

you feel like you're on the brink of death now, you can't even get out of bed to get yourself water out of your sink, shortening your life span if you keep this up. you feel yourself crying as you roll your body off of the bed and onto the floor.

hissing in pain, you dig your nails into the spruce hardwood floor.

"you are not weak for this. you're surviving," you whisper to yourself as you push yourself forwards with your arms.

it's so painful with the bruises. they rub up against your clothing, already irritating them a bit more than before, and now it's having pressure added onto it. your tears are blocking your sight, but you push on anyways. the door has never felt so far away.

you almost perk up when your nails scratch at the door. with weak fists, you bang at the door and call for one of the men that has captured you. your tears are dripping on the ground below you, forming a small puddle as they all bunch together.

"please," you croak, "please..."

the door is being unlocked and you feel as if all of your strength has been used at that moment. you lay still as your breath falters from your sobbing.

the door bumps against your head, shooting a sharp pain through your head. you can't find strength to care about it.

"so you're finally ready to listen. you look pathetic," you don't have to look up to tell it's levi speaking to you.

he calls out to erwin, telling him to fix you small and easy meal and to get you new clothes. he squats down and takes you into his arms bridal style.

if you weren't crying and letting out weak sobs, he would think your dead. you're so limp in his arms and your eyes are empty and droopy as they stare right through him. and it creeps him out.

he takes you into a bathroom with a tub, setting you gently on the toilet. he doesn't bother locking the door behind him, you're too weak to run away right now. levi's preparing you a bath, walking back and forth as he gets towels and soaps and checking the water.

you hiccup as you watch levi starting to remove that collar and chains around your neck, and you feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, literally. he's undressing you, obviously trying to avert his cold eyes away from your body. you're gently laid in the bath, head resting against the rim.

levi's quiet as he pours a warm cup of water over your hair and face, squatting down to reach your level.

"stupid," he scoffs as he lathers up shampoo in his hands. he washes your hair gently.

"this isn't mine and erwin's fault," he shakes his head while he pours water over your head, "it's your fault. you refused our care."

you don't argue back, too tired to even think of a comeback. you also don't feel like getting beat any more than you already are. your eyelids are getting heavy, immediately shutting them as soon as you feel the pressure on them.

levi stares, mouth slightly parted as you breathe in and out through your nose. your cheek was sprinkled in the color crimson, his own handiwork made him cringe. he just sighs, now brushing through your locks of hair with conditioner coated on his hands.

he rinses his hands off, letting the conditioner stay there just for a few seconds so it can soak in. his eyes trail down your body, stopping at your bruised breast. he didn't even realize he hit you there.

he shrugs it off and gathers water into the small cup in his hand, pouring it over your head. he expects you to jump up at the water over your head but all you do is mumble. he wants to wash your body, specifically your underarms, but with you half asleep and barely able to stand on your own without him holding onto you, he can't.

he clicks his tongue and pulls out the cover up blocking the drain. he grabs you by the arm, ignoring the whimper of pain that you let out, and pulls you up onto your wobbling feet. he helps you step out of the tub and wraps a fluffy pink towel around your shoulders, carefully sitting you onto the toilet again.

the bath water is a little murky and levi cringes at it because he knows it'll leave a ring around the tub. he'll clean it up later.

erwin's opening the door, a pile of clothes in his large hands.

"she's all tuckered out," he chuckles, handing off the clothes to levi.

"yeah. don't know how, she's barely done anything. must be the hunger or something," levi shrugs and watches the folded clothing come undone as he holds the hemline between his fingers.

"maybe we were too harsh on her."

"no, we weren't. we can't trust her. believe it or not, but forks can hurt whenever you put force into them when you stab someone. she could've hurt one of us or herself," he folds the clothes over his arm and holds out a hand.

erwin hands him underwear, "i suppose you're right."

"i'm always right," levi carefully puts on your underwear for you.

erwin rolls his eyes at levi's comment, "make sure to dry her hair."

"i know what i'm doing," he snaps, "go put her food in her room."

erwin complies, swinging the door shut behind him as he goes to fetch your food.

you've barely processed their conversation, too focused on levi's hands putting you in a satin light grey nightgown that ends just below your knees. the bishop sleeves keep your arms warm and cold at the same time, in fact, the whole material of the dress does as well. the neckline is a v-neck, not that you mind too much because of the risk you might get too hot.

"do i...," you manage to mumble, "do i have to wear this to sleep...?"

"yeah, unless you feel like sleeping in just underwear. i don't think you want that though," he scoffs as he towels off your damp hair.

you don't reply, far too tired to even say a 'whatever' to him. you let your forehead come into contact with his hip, taking in the cold temperature radiating off of his body. you want to nuzzle into his hip, but thankfully you have enough will to not do so. it reminds you of your friend, pieck, and her cat like tendencies. the memory has you letting out a pained laugh.

levi can feel his face getting warmer at every movement you make with your head, but he manages to play it off because of the towel blocking your view. he throws the towel into the basket by the tub, hand silently stroking at the back of your head in comfort.

it doesn't give you comfort. but you don't let it show.

levi's grabbing a hair brush, a clean and new one, and running it through your (hair type) locks. there are far too many tangles from the lack of care you've been giving your hair, but not enough to make a knot.

levi then pulls out a block of deodorant from the cabinet below the sink. it's unused and you can smell the scent of flowers on it as he brings it closer. his hands slide up your dress with caution, trying to avoid coming into contact with your bruised body.

he manages to put on the deodorant easily. he picks you back up with a grunt, eyebrows furrowing at your pained expression. he's placing you back onto your bed in just a matter of seconds, throwing the covers over your legs.

erwin's sitting at the edge of your bed, holding a fork with food already on it. your eyes are droopy while you look at erwin.

you don't eat a lot, they're in fear that you might throw everything up if fed too fast. you don't blame them, you haven't eaten in five miserable days. it's best to be cautious.

"scooby...," you manage to whisper out, eyes fluttering shut.

"she wants to watch scooby doo even though she's already asleep," levi huffs with the shaking of his head, grabbing the tray from erwin's hands.

erwin follows after levi, closing the door behind the both of them and locking it.

"she seems to be getting adjusted," erwin notes while standing behind levi and watching him wash the dishes.

"only because she was on the brink of death. let's just hope she learned from it," levi's aggressively scrubbing the plate with a sponge.

————

you lay in your bed a few days later, the feeling of homesickness is eating you up inside. did no one care? did anyone even notice you vanished? where was everyone? what were they doing?

you think of zeke. the man you were sort of dating, it's complicated. well, it was. now, it's just nonexistent.

zeke was out of the country for a bit, something to do with work. he left you with a kiss on the forehead and a hug. you wonder if he's texted you.

you think of pieck. oh my god, she's had to have noticed by now. she's your best friend, she lives with you. but the memory of the two of you fighting right before you were kidnapped comes flooding back, and you deflate. if you weren't in the house then pieck would probably think it was normal.

what about porco? reiner? your guys friends who act like guard dogs towards you. where were they? did they notice? surely they had to, you never not text them back.

bertholdt? your close friend that you also worked with him. he was a music prodigy and he texted you almost everyday. did he notice?

you're breathing erratically as you sit up and clutch your hands over your ringing ears. where were they? where even was your phone?

you're gonna get killed before you can tell any of them that you love them. the thought has you crying and tugging at your hair. you were so mean to pieck before you were kidnapped. you hadn't talked to zeke since the day of your kidnapping, who probably wasn't worried because he was busy with work.

when will you see them again? will you ever even get to see them again?

'maybe after death,' you think, eyes darting up to the mirror on your vanity.

you slap yourself upside the head, slapping away the thought. you struggle to get onto your feet, but when you do, you're banging at the door for levi and erwin again.

you have to know if they're okay, to know if they know you're gone. you step away from the door at the sound of keys jingling and their footsteps.

"what are you freaking out about now," levi's being followed by erwin.

"my friends... did.. did you tell them i was okay," with a boost of confidence, your gripping at levi's biceps.

"get your filthy hands off of me," he smacks them away.

"yes, we did tell them you were going away. we said you decided on a vacation," erwin speaks and watches your eyes dart back to the mirror.

"fuck," you whisper to yourself. everyone would believe you'd go on vacation, you had been stressed with your job for the past month.

"levi's gonna make you some tea and then we can all chat, we were about to do so anyways," erwin's hand rubs at your back as he pulls you close to him.

levi leaves the room, following the orders of erwin. erwin, on the other hand, is cooing at you.

"no one's going to miss you," he whispers in a sweet tone and it gives you goosebumps, "no one at all."

you know it's not true. it can't be true. zeke would miss you. reiner would miss you, pieck, porco, bertholdt. they'd all miss you.... right?

"we're the only ones who care, no one else cares," his grip tightens.

"want to know what that girl said," you hear the arrogance in his voice, and you can't do anything to stop it since he's buried your face in his chest.

"she said she was glad you were on vacation. she said that it was good that she didn't have to see you," yoy hiccup against his chest, pieck couldn't have said that, right?

he pulls away finally, satisfied at your expressionless face—if you overlook the tears. you can't give in, pieck would never say that. never in a million years would she say that, even if she hated your guts.

right?

levi comes back in, hands holding a tray that has teacups and a pot of tea on it. levi goes to the area with three chairs, setting the tray onto the coffee table and sitting himself down in one. erwin follows behind him, leaving the chair in between them open for you to sit.

they stare at you expectedly, it makes you uncomfortable so you decide to just deal with it and sit with them.

"what tea is this," erwin asks while levi pours everyone a cup.

"earl grey, what else do we have," levi hands a cup to erwin and then to you.

you hold it by the handle, silently admiring the cup's delicate and intricate design. you try to ignore the voice in the back of your head to break it on the ground and slash your neck open. you want to drink it too, it smells absolutely perfect, but if you hold it any longer you might just listen to that voice.

you set it back down, left hand immediately grabbing at your right wrist. you didn't trust yourself to make a move on your own, if you did you fear it might end up with a shard of glass at your throat.

erwin's ice eyes stare at your wrist and hand, taking in how your knuckles were white and the skin on your arm was reddening.

"just say if you want handcuffs," erwin sips at his tea and looks away.

"what," you flinch at his voice interrupting the quiet that was once there.

his comment has you looking at your hands, which you let go of at the sight of the irritation.

"sorry," you shrug and lean back in your chair.

"good. can't have you hurting your hands," levi comments, eyes staring outside of the bay window.

"speaking of that," you sigh, "why do you always leave my hands alone. you've shown no mercy to my arms, so why my hands?"

"when you're good enough, you'll be allowed to play the piano," erwin crosses a leg over the other, ankle resting on his knee.

"play? for who? there's no one in this empty house but us," you scoff and cross your arms.

"me. and there's more people here than you think," levi's giving you a small smirk, "you're just separated from them."

"it's hard to believe that you have friends, levi," you mumble loud enough for them to hear. your comment has erwin chuckling and levi rolling his eyes.

"i have friends, believe it or not. watch your attitude," he's putting his tea back onto the tray.

"i don't have an attitude," you sound like a child arguing with their parent.

erwin butts in the conversation before levi can get mad, "anyways, we will allow you to play if we think you've been good enough. levi likes the piano, remember?"

you bite down on your tongue to stop the words 'no but i remember getting kidnapped!!' from coming out of your mouth.

"when can i leave this room, it's too stuffy in here?"

"did you not just listen to erwin? he said when we feel you've been good enough. you've got to start by loosing the attitude," levi snaps his fingers irritatedly.

"how am i supposed to act?!"

"obedient," erwin's now standing over your chair, hands gripping the arms as he leans over you.

"like a dog," you look to levi at the sound of his voice, you try to make yourself smaller.

"you have on a chain and collar for a reason, don't you," erwin smiles gently, hand taking ahold of the chains while he stands up straight.

you choke when erwin tugs the chains towards himself, head knocking right against his stomach while the chains swing in the air and curl around his arm. his other arm swiftly grabs at jaw and forces you to look up at him with your chin pressed to his body.

erwin feels himself harden at the sight, your eyes are widened and your mouth his agape and panting because of the sudden cut off of air.

"just like that," he strokes his thumb along your jaw while you wonder what's caused a sudden change in him these past few days; he used to be so gentle. oh right, kidnapping.

his words have you turning hot, embarrassment hugging you from behind. it wasn't like you easily complied, you were forced to do so. you're also embarrassed because you can feel his hard-on against your sternum, and while you haven't thought about it before, you realize that erwin is fucking hung. you hope that you're not too good for them.

you're saying prayers in your head whenever levi speaks up, "i thought we came in here to watch a movie or something."

erwin lets you go, chains dropping from his arm as he does so. you sigh in relief as erwin grabs the remote from your bed and turns the tv on. you huff while you flop onto your bed and crawl up under your covers, knowing that you'll probably just fall asleep as you watch the movie.

unfortunately, this gives off the impression that you would like to be cuddled. levi's sliding under the covers with you, chest pressing against your back with arms wrapped around your waist. erwin follows soon after, inserting himself in your arms as he scrolls through the different movies at his disposal on the television. you're slightly frustrated at all of the physical contact, but you know that if you reject their advances it'll end up bad for you.

"put on heather's, please," you ask, which erwin obliges to.

as the movie goes on, you hope that they get the message.

you'll be veronica, and they'll be jd.

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jibbdrabbs · 3 years ago

Text

✎ [5:20 PM]ˎˊ-

Cuddle time with Renjun almost always meant a movie, and tonight was no different. Jisung was out with Chenle to film something, Mark was busy filming with Johnny, and Jaemin and Haechan were out shopping together, so that left Jeno and Renjun to have some much-needed relaxation time. It had been a while since it was just the two of them at the dorms, so the possibilities of what they could do were endless, that was until they lay together in the bottom bunk of Rensung’s shared room, Renjun gazing up at Jeno who hovered over him with a gaze that was hinted with desire.

“We can do whatever you want.” Renjun breathed, and Jeno just blinked down at him once before dropping himself on top of the older with a sigh. Renjun let out a surprised ‘oof’ at the weight and groaned. “Alright, you big baby. come on, we can watch a movie together or somethin' but you gotta get off of me.” Jeno smiled cutely as he rolled off of Renjun, watching him expectantly. When the older got up to turn off the overhead lights and grab his laptop, he thought that the pout Jeno wore reminded him of a puppy, and as he came back over from lighting a candle and turning on the fairy lights to settle beside Jeno, he could imagine the youngers invisible tail wagging with happy contentment. Renjun made sure his laptop was plugged in properly so it wouldn’t give up halfway through their show and opened Netflix to find something to watch.

“Something we’ve already seen,” Jeno said when he saw Renjun about to play ‘Love Death & Robots’, which was one they were going to watch together but hadn’t yet. “I might fall asleep.” Jeno offered when he saw Renjun’s confused expression. It softened to something of understanding though and he nodded before finally deciding to play ‘Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse’. They had seen that movie numerous times because of Renjun’s obsession with the art style, so it wouldn’t be much of an issue if one or both of them fell asleep halfway through.

Jeno cuddled up to Renjun eagerly, the older gladly putting an arm around him to pull him closer. Despite Renjun’s constant protests both on and off camera about how much he despised skinship, he had a soft spot for a couple of the members, and Jeno was definitely one of them. He wasn’t sure when it had first come about; maybe during We Young promotions when Jeno was Jaeminless and sought out Renjun for affection most often? He wasn’t quite sure anymore, but sometimes he wondered if their affection and feelings had crossed that obscured and blurred line that sat precariously between friendship and something more. Sure they had fucked around- all of the members had at least once before -but everything had always stayed platonic. If they cuddled, or kissed, or maybe even gave a good blow job once or twice in the warm comfort of the dorms, it always went without protest in the ‘helping a homie out’ category. But Renjun couldn’t deny that sometimes he wondered about asking to join Jeno’s relationship. Maybe he was just jealous of Jeno for getting babied by Mark, Jaemin, and Haechan 24/7, or maybe he was just sexually frustrated and the four of them were hot as hell when one of them would come stumbling out of their room at ungodly hours with messy hair and wrinkled shirts to fetch a glass of water, but whatever it was, Renjun knew they should talk about it.

“Hey, Jen?” Renjun said softly as he ran his fingers through Jeno’s black hair. It had gotten longer since their last comeback for sure, but then again so had Renjun’s.

“What’s up?” Jeno said, his voice soft and low. He was obviously tired, but he seemed content enough with talking so Renjun thought about how to continue. He knew that they had said it was an open relationship, and he knew that Haechan had offered him a place in their arms a couple of times before as well, but that was all when they had first started dating. What if the four of them had changed their minds? What if they were happy and content with it just being them. A gentle nuzzle to his chest by Jeno cleared his head a bit and he decided to take the risk. The worst that would happen is Jeno would tell him no and they’d move on, so there was no point trying to shy away now.

“Are you and Jaemin and Hyuck and Mark still uh,” He paused, staring at the movie as if it was more important than the conversation they were about to have even though he wasn’t paying attention to it at all. “Are you guys still… Open? To like someone joining your relationship I mean.” Renjun rushed out the last bit and held his breath, waiting nervously as Jeno slowly looked up at him with big dark eyes. They stared at each other for a bit until the younger couldn’t take it anymore and broke into a fit of soft giggles.

“Of course Junnie. Let’s talk with Mark, Jaemin, and Duckie when they get back though, they should be involved in this too.” Renjun smiled and gave a small hum of agreement before he settled down again to fully watch the movie. He was melting into the warmth at his side, beginning to drift off, until suddenly Jeno sat up and moved the laptop to be on the other side of Renjun. He rolled them over so that he was spooning the smaller and buried his nose happily in Renjun’s hair with a content sigh. The older just gave a huff of laughter and a satisfied hum before he fully succumbed to the gentle tug of sleep.

Jeno fell asleep not long after, limbs tangled with Renjun’s, nose taking in the ever so gentle scent of the olders shampoo, and nothing but warm contentment radiating from the pair.

─ 𝙅𝙞𝙗𝙗*:･ﾟ✧

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littlejeanniebean · 4 years ago

Note

“make me” for hinny

“I’m quitting the team.”

Harry looked up from his mission logs and pushed his glasses further up his nose. He was almost certain he had misheard her. “Sorry, what?”

“The Quidditch correspondent position just opened up at the Daily Prophet.” Ginny ambled over to him, sitting on the armrest of his chair. “And rather than read another half-arsed article written some bloke who’s never even played for his house team, I’ve applied and got the job.”

Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow. “May I ask… why?”

Ginny’s hands went to massage his shoulders. She loved how much strength training Aurors were required to do, even when they didn’t have as much fieldwork. “We both know we want a big family —”

Harry’s put one arm around her waist. “You really want to pop them out one after the other —”

“Please don’t call it ‘popping them out’ like I’m a vending machine and you just put a few coins in —”

Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean —”

“Besides, I want to be home more —”

“I have tons of practice with Teddy,” he reasoned. “I’m more than capable —”

“Well, I can’t let you have all the fun, now, can I?” Ginny smirked, but inwardly, she wondered why he was arguing so hard against it.

“It’s really no trouble, Gin —”

“Then why not let me do it too?” She stood suddenly, putting her hands on her hips.

“Because Quidditch is your dream!” Harry waved his arms around as if to demonstrate the size and importance of the said dream. “I don’t want you to give it up —”

“I’m not, though.” Oh, Harry, she thought. Sweet, noble Harry. “I’m just coming at it a different way, like you becoming head of the department so you can —”

“Well, I’m not the head yet —”

“It’s basically an eventuality,” she waved off the technicality. “Look, Harry, I’d be just as happy here at home as I am on the pitch. I’m not giving anything up, and who knows? I might try out for the team again when we’ve decided we have enough little monsters running around and then you’ll be the one who has to tote them to matches to support their mummy.”

Harry practically beamed at the thought and pulled her close again, burying his nose in the scent of her flowery shampoo and splaying butterfly kisses over her collarbone. Then suddenly, he started, his forehead almost colliding with her chin. “Wait, are you pregnant?”

“Oh, because that would be so far-fetched now, wouldn’t it?” she made fun of his incredulity. “Because we definitely haven’t been going at it like it’s our second honeymoon —”

“Are you?” Harry was standing now, firm, callused hands on her shoulders, his face all serious hard lines, especially his sharp, defined jaw.

“No.” Ginny shrugged like she was answering a more casual question like, ‘Would you like some coffee, love?’ “Not yet, anyway…” She threaded her fingers up in his wild dark hair and kissed him deeply. “But I want you to make me.” She took his bottom lip between her teeth as he moaned. “Now,” she commanded.

And who was he to refuse her?

thank you for this ask @pianistbynight! love ya! xx

#hinny fanfiction #hinnychristmasfest #jeannie bean writes #harry potter fanfiction #jeannie bean gets asked #mutual love #sista sista #ginny weasley #harry potter #quidditch #auror #12 days to christmas #baby

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cherry-glade · 4 years ago

Text

all that is in a name

pairing: aged up!damian wayne x fem!reader

summary: you come to him, and his name is on your hand like you’re showing off to the world that you’re his. damian doesn’t know if he can handle it.

warnings: just a whole lotta sweetness, implications that reader is of south asian descent, unintentional love confessions.

a/n: i am very, very nervous about posting this, but i’ve procrastinated for way too long, so i hope whoever ends up reading this enjoys it!

w/c: 2876 words

Damian notices it as soon as you greet him at the door with a smile and a kiss to his cheek, the rich colour of mehndi on your hands. You’re holding a plastic bag in your hands which he takes from you as you toe your shoes off and then follow him into the kitchen.

“Wedding food,” you explain when he looks through the bag and finds various sweet dishes, as well as little boxes of food and slices of wedding cake. He remembers you telling him about a distant relative’s wedding, remembers expressing his remorse about not being able to accompany you because of prior commitments.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before you both try your best to fit the food into the fridge and then head up to his bedroom after you’ve had a glass of water to quench your thirst.

“I’ve missed you,” you say once you’re there, both curled into each other, and there’s a pang in Damian’s chest. You haven’t seen each other in a while, and it’s mostly his fault, because of missions, but he knows you understand.

“I missed you too, dearly,” he responds, squeezing an arm around your waist as he presses his mouth to your forehead in a chaste kiss, lingering there for a moment so he can breathe in the scent of your shampoo.

You part after a moment or two and Damian’s eyes fall to the second bag dangling from your fingers, smaller than the first. He looks to you, a question on his tongue, but you know him and so you beat him to it.

“The last time I wore mehndi, Cass saw and wanted me to put some on her too,” you explain, reaching into the bag and pulling out a handful of mehndi cones. “So I brought some today for us to try out on her.” His heart warms at the kind gesture, and then he remembers that you’re wearing mehndi too, dark against your skin, and wants to see more of it.

“Show me,” Damian requests, looking down at the deep reddish brown staining your nails and palms. You sit down on the rug with him, placing the bag down beside you and hold your hands out in front of you with your palms up like an offering, an offering Damian will gladly accept.

He carefully takes your hands in his and studies the dark swirls on your skin, the flowers and curling lines and then—letters. Small and almost delicate, tucked away underneath the petal of a flower, but they’re definitely letters spelling out his name.

“Damian?” He hears you say, and looks up to see your face, concerned as your eyes scan over his body like you’re checking for injuries of some sort. “What’s up? You’re not hurt, are you?” You ask, frowning at him.

“It’s my name,” he blurts out, thumb tracing reverently over the letters, and your hands tense up almost imperceptibly, then start to tremble in his. Damian looks up at you, concerned when you avoid his eyes and just stare down at your joined hands, face pale other than the blotchy redness high in your cheeks.

“It’s nothing, really, just a joke,” you try to play off with a wavering smile, but Damian can see right past it. You’re nervous, maybe even a little scared, and it worries Damian because he’s quite certain he hasn’t done anything to frighten you, watching carefully as you try to tug your hands away, but he holds on tight.

His eyes scan over your face, looking for any tells other than you biting your lip and blushing even more each time you meet his eyes or see his name on your hand, and that’s when it hits, and Damian can feel his own face turning red at the implication.

“It’s not—it was my cousin’s idea, not mine,” you begin to explain, still not looking at him, looking at anything but him like you can’t bear to see his face as you say it. “It’s just a little wedding tradition in our culture, where the bride has mehndi applied, and then her future husband’s name or initials are hidden somewhere in the patterns and—”

“And then the groom tries to find it,” Damian finishes your sentence, unable to meet your eyes for fear of you running away after seeing the look in his eyes, the want, the desire to someday take part in this tradition with you.

It scares him, how much he wants of you. With you. But it thrills him too.

“If I’d known beforehand, I wouldn’t have let her do it, I promise,” you swear, and as hard as you might try to hide it, your voice is definitely trembling. “I only noticed afterwards, and if I’d tried to get rid of it, that would’ve just ruined the artist’s hard work and the rest of the design.”

Damian looks up at that, blinking. “Why?” is all he can get out, throat tight. His voice comes out sounding like he’s being strangled because of all that he’s holding back.

You frown, still looking down at your hands. Your cheeks are still red, and Damian wants to kiss you so badly, until they’re a rosy pink instead. “Because it’s all very intricate and close together, so trying to wipe if off would just smudge it all,” you say, clearly misunderstanding what he’s asking you.

“That’s not what—Y/N,” Damian starts, pulse racing. He’s pretty sure he’s sweating a little. He hopes that you can’t smell it. “Why would you want to get rid of it?” Damian asks, irrationally terrified that maybe you don’t want the same things he does. That you don’t want him as much as he wants you.

You finally look up at Damian with wide eyes. “I—we’re not—I guess I just assumed that it would be a bad idea to keep it there,” you say slowly as your eyes flicker over his face, hesitating on the last few words like you’re not sure that you actually want to say them to him.

He should say something. Anything.

You assumed wrong. It wouldn’t be a bad idea. I want this. I want you.

I love you. Always.

But instead, all that comes out is, “You know how to apply mehndi yourself, yes?”

You frown and nod, a confused look on your face at the sudden change of subject.

“I want you to put some on me. Please,” he remembers to add onto the end, and you reward him with a gentle smile, even though Damian can tell that you still don’t understand what he’s thinking.

“You’ll have to fetch me a pair of scissors then, and a few tissues. Maybe a ball pin too, if you have any,” you say as you turn away to fetch a mehndi cone, bag rustling.

Damian takes that as a dismissal and goes to follow your instructions, coming back to find you waiting for him with one of his pillows on your lap, the back of it facing up. You take the scissors from him and snip off a tiny section from the cone, then use the sharp end of the pin to pry it open slightly before holding it near the top and applying gentle pressure until a steady flow of mehndi flows from the open end of it onto a tissue.

“Right or left?” Damian looks away from your hands and into your eyes. You must be able to tell that he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, because you grin as you clarify that you’re asking which hand he wants it on. He places his left hand on the pillow.

He may have trained himself to be ambidextrous, but he uses his right hand more out of habit, and would like the stain, your stain, to last as long as possible.

“You want it on your palm or the outside of your hand?” You say as you wipe the tip of the mehndi cone off and lift his hand into your own, studying it like you could find the secrets of the universe within the lines of his palm.

“Outside,” he says.

You look up at Damian with a quirked eyebrow. “Sure? What if I mess it up?”

“I trust you,” he says.

Damian swears his heart skips a beat when your mouth curls into a fond smile as you press a kiss to the centre of his palm before flipping his hand back over and placing it onto the pillow again, fingertips tracing over his scarred knuckles. “Any type of design in particular? I can freestyle or we can look up pictures on the internet if you’d like.”

“I trust you,” he repeats, and settles down to just watch as you trace out the lines of an intricate flower onto his skin, stopping in between to rub the feeling back into his hand once it starts to feel cold and a little numb. The designs on his fingers are a little simpler but no less beautiful, and each and every dot and swirl is practically perfect.

Somehow, you’ve managed to get a little bit of mehndi on your own finger. But you don’t know this, so it smudges onto your skin when you reach up to scratch the side of your nose, leaving a dark little smear on your cheek. Damian rushes to pick up a tissue and wipe it off so that the stain left behind is as faint as possible, a light orange in colour.

He ends up just looking at your face as you finish off the design, nose wrinkled in concentration, so doesn’t realise you’re done with him until he hears his name being called. Damian looks up to see you smiling at him as you wave your hands with a flourish over his.

“All done. You like it?”

“I—it’s beautiful.” He struggles to meet your eyes. “You’re very talented, beloved.”

You blush and smile even wider until your eyes are crinkling at the corners. “Thank you. Just leave it on for a while now and take it off in the evening, maybe even tomorrow morning if you’d like it to be darker. If you leave it on overnight, you’ll need to wrap your hand in cling wrap, then scrape it off in the sink, but don’t use any water.”

“But—”

“Oh, and if you want it to be darker, once you’re sure it’s completely dry, you can use a cotton ball to dab a mixture of lemon juice and sugar over it, then once it’s scraped off, rub mustard oil on your hand,” you remind Damian as you place the mehndi cone down, not even realising you just cut him off.

“Y/N, it’s not done just yet,” Damian says, breathing in deep and summoning the courage he seems to have lost after looking into your eyes.

“Oh?” You’re frowning, a quizzical little smile playing on your lips. “I’m pretty sure it is.”

“No,” he says, and his voice must be harsher than he’d expected because you just blink at him before frowning even harder, smile completely gone. It makes Damian’s heart hurt.

“Why not?”

Damian looks down at his hand, at your hard work, and notices that the centre of the flower is blank, which gives him an idea. “I want your name on me too,” he says, and it’s almost painful for Damian to be so honest, even though the truth never comes to him more easily than it does when he’s with you.

You stare at him for a while, not understanding. “I want your name on my hand,” Damian clarifies, using his free hand to turn yours over and trace over the letters of his name as he looks straight into your eyes.

“Damian,” you splutter as you try to take your hand back. He lets you this time. “This isn’t a joke. You doing this. I can’t—”

“Please,” he says softly, begs. Damian doesn’t usually beg for things. “It doesn’t have to be your whole name. It can just be your initials,” he tries to bargain.

“There’s nowhere to—”

“You can do it here,” Damian says, eagerly pointing to the empty centre of the flower. “Please, beloved,” he says once more in the hope that you’ll give in to his pleas.

You swallow thickly and pick up the cone again, holding his hand steady as your own fingers tremble their way through tracing your initials onto his skin, and then you let go of him like you’ve burnt yourself as he stares down at his hand, fingers hovering just above it.

“Is that okay?” You ask, uncertainty evident in your voice. He doesn’t answer, too mesmerised by what you’ve just done.

“Damian.”

Still no answer.

“Damian—”

“It’s perfect,” he cuts you off. “I love you.” Your head snaps up and Damian immediately realises his mistake. “It. I love it.”

Fuck.

That didn’t come out right, but... fuck it.

“I love you,” Damian confesses, and he’s not going to look away from you now that the truth is out. He refuses to hide it any longer. Your eyes are wider than he’s ever seen them, and his heart is about to leap out of his throat.

“You... love me?” You repeat, and for some reason, you look shocked. Like it’s a surprise to you that Damian ended up falling in love with you, though it shouldn’t be. Damian’s quite certain that it was basically inevitable.

“I love you,” he confirms, and your face softens.

“You love me,” you repeat, with the softest of smiles. “And I love you. That’s quite convenient, isn’t it?”

Damian’s breath catches in his throat. “You love me?” He asks, just to be sure. He’d be embarrassed by the way his voice cracks if it weren’t for the fact that he’s waiting for you to say those words again, to reassure him that this isn’t just some dream of his destined to turn into a nightmare—it’s reality.

“I do,” you reassure him, and Damian’s heart swells until it feels like it’s almost too big for his chest, far too full of love to be contained by something so very small.

“I see,” he breathes out shakily, and you snort at him, eyes shining with laughter and—and love.

“You’re such a dork,” you murmur, fond. You lift a hand to cup his cheek and Damian leans into it, eyes fluttering closed for just a moment before opening again. “I basically took part in a wedding tradition for you. What about that says I don’t love you?”

“Nothing. I was just... being silly, I suppose,” Damian whispers as he leans in close enough for your noses to brush, making sure to move his hand out of the way so nothing smudges. Your eyes close as you smile, bright enough that Damian has no choice other than to smile back at you, even if you can’t see it.

His fingers come up to circle your wrist, his own eyes closing as the two of you gently press your foreheads together, and then his hand is moving to keep your palm pressed to his face, fingers tangling together.

You both sit there in a comfortable silence, just existing together for a while. Damian can’t stop smiling every time he opens his eyes to peek at your face and finds you looking right back at him. His love for you makes him feel giddy with happiness, as it should.

Soon enough, his siblings come to bother the two of you. First, it’s Richard, coming to coo at how cute you both are and almost forgetting that Damian’s hand is still wet when he pulls you into a hug. And then it’s Cassandra, silently waiting for you to attend to her too with a pleased smile on her face as she notices the way you’re both looking at each other, unwilling to be parted.

Eventually you give in though, pulling Damian to his feet and opening the door for him even though he has a free hand. Perhaps it’s because you know that he wants to hold yours. Perhaps it’s because you want to hold his too.

You all gather in the kitchen, where Timothy is already waiting with a mug of steaming coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. He lets go of both though to greet you with a hug, complimenting your own mehndi. It’s as you and Cassandra are settling into chairs and scrolling through designs on your phone for ideas that Timothy notices Damian’s hand, attentive as always.

“Is that—?” He starts to ask, looking down at your initials. Damian looks over to you, laughing at something Richard has just said as you check how much mehndi you have left in your open cone, probably wondering if you’ll have to use another one.

It might have been unintentional on your part, but you unabashedly wear Damian’s name on your hand like you don’t care about the possible consequences, if there are any, of showing people that you’re his.

“Yes,” Damian answers, turning back to face his older brother.

He’s not afraid of letting the world know that he’s yours either.

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x fem!reader #dc #sfw #my fic

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