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bowsnstrings · 20 days ago

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🎶🎼🎀Hit The Right Note!🎀🎼🎶

Onyankopon x original character

Warnings: 1.6k words! mentions of weed, mentions of food, descriptions of sex, (pnv) unprotected sex, original character with original descriptions.

Ony always had his brightest ideas when he was with Princess. Well mostly when he was high and around Princess. He couldn’t help it though, it was two of his favorite things combined, it was bound to make good things happen.

He was smoking in the studio listening to some new beats he was working on. Princess sat close by on his new loveseat he bought for her to sit on during late nights in the studio. He was trying to take a break after getting frustrated, huffing out a cloud to the ceiling as he reclined back.

Princess had suggested food to brighten up his mood, their cheat days “suddenly” aligning perfectly, so they settled on breakfast for dinner. The only thing open at midnight was Waffle House so they packed up and left for the night.

Ony let her pick the songs on the car ride, and she randomly picked Aaliyah’s classic. He laughed the hardest he had in a while when they realized how crazy they were for going to Waffle House at nearly one in the morning, but that was nothing new being around her.

“It feels like you try’na be New New or something.” Ony quipped at her for her song choice, poking her in the ribs at the red light to hear her giggle.

“Ony! Stooop!” Princess whined, smacking her lips, her lipgloss reflecting the red from the traffic light. Fuck, she looked good, wearing his most expensive jersey, hair just thrown into a ponytail. She was hard at work with him in the studio, putting her pen to paper too.

They pulled into the lot and sat in a booth, no security, no cameras, no fans. No one else was in there but the employees, and funnily enough they treated them so poorly that it was like they weren’t celebrities either.

Ony got his hashbrowns with cheese, bacon, toast, and waffles, happily scarfing down all of his food across from Princess. He was chewing as he watched her take her first bite, and then it happened. She gave a long humm, lower in her usual tone but still over the larynx. Still sweet sounding, but much dirtier.

He almost mistook it for a moan. He swallowed his food quickly, blinking at her in disbelief across the table. “Ony? Earth to Ony? Onya? Hello?” She called out, waving her hand to catch his attention.

That’s when Ony pulled out his notebook, quickly jotting down what she had just said, and following it up with some new lines. They stayed in that Waffle House, Ony writing, crossing out words, creating double entendres and punchlines until the workers were really giving them dirty looks.

He finished the song before they made it to his home, Ony rushing to pull her inside while Princess sleepily yawned at four a.m., still wondering what Ony was up to.

“Baby, I wanna put you in my song.” He leaned over her shoulder, rubbing his hands down her sides. “I want your voice, a piece of you in it forever.” Ony whispered to her gently.

Her hands rubbed up and down his neck, she stretched like a cat in his hands, and was purring too. “Okay, Ony.” She sighed into him, her body pressed against his. That was nothing, she’d been on plenty of his songs before.

“I want you to moan for me, Baby. On the song.”

Princess gasped softly, taken aback, but didn’t pull away. Still against him as his arms moved down soothingly. They came back up under her arms as he pulled away to look at her, worried that he was going too far.

“You don’t have to-”

“Okay.” She slumped back down, hiding her face from him in her hands. Her stack of bracelets shone in his face as he stood there in shock at how fast she agreed.

“Okay, what?” He asked to be sure, he had to be sure about this, and she did too.

“Okay, Ony. We can do it.” She blinked heavily, droopy lovesick eyes that were trying to avoid his. “Just promise me you won't let my Grandparents find out about it. Say it’s fake or whatever.” She rambled out, looking down at her feet.

“You really want to, Mama?” He put his hand under her chin, lifting it until they saw each other clearly. The only light was the moonlight from outside, but Ony was still able to see the way she held steady. “You can always say no. Even if we start and you want to stop.”

“I want to, Ony.” She eased out her words in one breath. Stepping back until her legs touched the bed behind her. Her hands shaking slightly as they reached for the hem of the jersey, pulling it up before pausing at her belly button. “Only if you keep loving me so good.”

“I promise.”

The rest is a bit of a blur now, hard, meaningful kisses exchanged as they helped each other strip out of their clothes. He needed to be able to hear her loud and clear, so he had his voice memo app open on his phone, recording right next to her face.

Her cheek laid on her hand, turning into the sheets in a beautiful arch for him. Ony rubbing a hand over her ass as she kept upright on unsteady legs, chest pressed to the mattress as she presented her pussy for him.

She was huffing out breathless pants, rocking side to side trying to soothe the ache between her legs as Ony stuffed her full. As soon as he tried to get the last three inches in she’d wiggle left or right. At first he couldn’t help but get mesmerized by the way her hips moved, teeth clenched tight trying to muffle his own sounds. Now, he was losing patience, needing to fuck her good.

The way she looked was downright filthy now, something straight out of Ony’s wet dreams as he pulled out, watching how soaking wet Princess’s pretty pink hole was as she tried to clench down on nothing. She was whining for him, wanting him back in, but still scared.

“So..so- hngh!”

Both of them were drenched in her, his fat tip catching on her entrance as he groaned, forgetting about the recording momentarily. Her puffy folds warm and inviting as Ony pushed back in slowly, hearing her shrill begging, keening musically as she was stuffed again and again.

“Common, Baby. You can do it, just let it out for me.”

His hands grabbing her waist to pull her into him, his hips pressed right against her until her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“Ony! Ah! Too much-too full, hah hahh-”

No, not right, too high. Too short too. No, he needed the right one. Organic, natural, deeper. Ony wanted her to let out that part of her that was buried deep, he wanted her to really let it out.

“Ugh, please- please- pleaseeee!”

“Please what, Ma?” He tossed his head back after punching into her with a rough thrust, her legs scrambling to close. He forced his hips forward more, grabbing her ankles and holding up her calves as he rolled his hips in waves. “You can cum, you know you can cum.”

One of his calloused palms travels up her leg, rubbing so close where she needed him to touch. “Uh, uhh-” Princess almost did it, turning away into her elbow at the last second, hands gripping the sheets for dear life.

“You can do it, Baby. Just need me to help you, hmm? You need me, Baby?”

Smack, smack, smack. Ony’s hips driving in faster than before, both of them panting and sweaty, breathing heavily as Princess moaned and whined. None of them were right yet, he needed to get that hit, that next number one!

Ony quickly leaned down, one hand snaking around to grab her face, lifting it to his phone’s speaker where it was still recording all the sinful sounds in the room. It was a dripping mess between her legs, they were slippery as he dragged his fingertips up her thigh to her clit. He pressed down hard with his middle finger, following her as her hips tried to pull back, using the opportunity to plug forward again.

Princess screamed when he quickly began sliding his fingers back and forth, firm strokes that had her seizing up. Her knees trying to press together and her pussy trying to push him out as she squirted through her orgasm. Her back truly arched for him as he lifted her face higher, still rubbing at her clit.

“Breathe. Breathe for me, Mama.” She followed his order as soon as the words floated into her ear. A big deep breath into her lungs, gasping for it, then as she breathed out, there it was. That perfect moan, long and steady, right into the mic, but just for good measure he kept rubbing and got another one too.

Princess didn’t remember anything else after that, not even when Ony bathed her down and dressed her back up in warm clothes. Afterwards he left to head back to the studio, but not before swarming her face in soft kisses and tucking her into his bed to finally get some sleep. As soon as he got back in he set himself up to record and in four short hours the song was done, mix and mastered too.

It was safe to say that Princess was thoroughly embarrassed to hear herself sound like that ever, even though Ony reassured her that she sounded beautiful. It was downright pornagraphic the way she moaned, and Ony only accentuated her voice to make it really pop through people’s speakers.

They dropped the song that same day Princess approved it, and overnight it was a hit. Millions of people were trying to guess who’s voice it was, tweeting, commenting, spamming Ony day and night to find out. He’d take it to the grave, but whenever someone would ask where he came up with the idea he’d always say, “It’s just what my dream woman sounds like.”

Hey everyone, sorry for taking so long to post, I'm trying to get through finals and a class I'm taking during winter break. Give me like one more week for the next fic, but for right now here's a little something I wrote last night! xoxo - Bow🎀🫶🏾

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turtles-invoked · 16 days ago

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“How come you can’t fly?” Jack asks Castiel randomly one afternoon. Him, Jack, Dean, and Sam sit at the long table in the library, the brothers sharing a beer, Jack and Cas just happy to be in their company.

Well, maybe it wasn’t as random as it seemed. Jack was curious about The Apocalypse after Dean’s possession. They explained it all in as much detail as they could, Sam even offering as much as loosing his soul and how that affected him, and then how it affected Cas. Which lead to the Leviathan’s and then somehow they ended up talking about their time in Purgatory which naturally lead to Naomi’s control over Cas and then Metatron’s betrayal which leaves them where they’re up to now at the Great Fall… at least that’s what they’ve been calling it.

All eyes turn to Cas. The conversation comes to a halt at the somewhat intrusive question. An uncomfortable, bubbling feeling begins to roll and churn in his stomach as his face begins to heat up.

He opens his mouth to start explaining but Sam had begun to answer for him, “because he fell with the angels.” He says it as if it was obvious, but when he looks around and takes in Dean’s frown and Cas’ squinted eyes and slight head tilt to the left he starts to doubt himself, “…right?”

Cas completely forgot that Sam was particularly unwell at the time of the Great Fall. No one ever spoke about his lack of wings after he became human and they were a little busy when Cas finally got what little of his Grace was left. Of course Sam wouldn’t know. Dean doesn’t even know it all, so how would Sam?

“No… I uh…” Cas started and looked around at all the faces watching him; Sam’s confused frown, Jack’s intrigued yet a little wary squint, and Dean’s sympathetic eyes.

“When I gave Metatron my grace…” he starts slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat, “naturally, I lost all of my powers, including my wings…”

“But you got it back?” Jack asks, still confused.

“Not all of it. What was left after the spell wasn’t enough to heal my body immediately.”

“But you said over time it will regenerate,” Jack argues.

“Correct, and it has, but-”

“Then you should be able to fly,” he says hopefully.

Cas shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat. Jack was looking so hopeful at him that it almost felt worse to crush that than it did to admit what really happened.

“Theoretically, yes…” he starts and spares a glance at Dean. The brothers hadn’t said anything more since Cas begun his story and it unnerved him a little.

“Since I never technically fell with the rest of the angels, my Grace should have healed them… but there is more to it than that.”

“Wait a second-” Sam cuts in leaning forward in his seat, “you didn’t fall with the angels?”

“No, at the time I was already human.”

Sam looks at him as if he’s trying to piece together everything but nothing quite makes sense.

Jack interjects this time, frowning as he asks, “you gave Metatron your grace?”

“He was played,” Dean says simply, a tinge of frustration in his tone.

Cas sighs in agreement, “while Sam was attempting to close the gates of Hell, I thought I was sealing Heaven…”

“You were going to lock all the angels away? Including you?” Jack interjects again.

This time Cas’ eyes snap to Dean who was staring straight at him. His expression remained stoic and neutral but his eyes were a little bit wider, more attentive, desperate for the answer too. Of course he wasn’t going to leave Dean, but they had never had a chance to have that conversation.

“No,” Cas says sincerely, then turns his attention back to Jack, “No, I was- am unwelcome in Heaven. Though, I would have stayed on Earth regardless.”

“Jack, we’re getting off track,” Sam points out waving his hands to backtrack to the original plot.

“Right, yes. I was tracking Metatron when a couple of his followers found me. I was captured an-”

“Alone?” Jacks asks surprised.

“Yes.”

“As a human?”

“No. No we found Metatron previously and captured him, however, he knew where the rest of my grace was. I was… dying… and at the time Metatron was cuffed… we didn’t- I didn’t think he could escape. He was weak but he did, and I was trying to… find him when some of his very few remaining loyalties found me. I was still weak…” he trails off becoming nervous again.

“Wait- you had Metatron, but you let him go so you could get your grace back!?” Sam asks incredulously.

Dean slaps his arm to shut him up, but Cas can feel the frustrated anger in Sam’s stare.

“For what it’s worth, I did not agree. It was Hannah who insisted. I assumed wrongly that the cuffs could contain him,” Cas feels his face flush with frustration. He was starting to lose track of his story with all the interruptions and emotions beginning to swell in his chest.

“All of this could have been avoided!” Sam exclaims.

“Yeah, and Cas would be dead!” Dean interjects for the first time since Cas started talking.

“I would not have survived much longer without it, I am sorry to disappoint,” he replies curtly and returns his attention to Jack’s big pleading eyes.

“What happened when they found you?” Jack asks softly.

“He…” Cas swallows the lump in his throat before he continues, “… he bound and tortured me…” he looked at his intertwined hands, talking to the table. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, could feel the thumping in his ears as the blood rushed through his body, the embarrassment working its way through his veins.

“He cut into me with my own angel blade, but he soon realised I would not give up Sam and Dean very easily, so he…. Resorted to more… intense… measures…” Cas swallows again… his mouth beginning to dry, and his eyes burn ever so slightly. Visions of his shirt ripped opened and bloodied, flashed through his mind. He could feel the tight, pulling, bounding of his wrists as he was suspended from the ceiling, toes barely touching the ground; the stinging of each carve into his skin. He even remembers his relief when he thought they had given up, but the devastation as he realised what they had planned to do next.

“Cas, you don’t have to talk about it…” Dean says carefully.

Cas shakes his head to try and push the memories away, “I thought when they stopped they had given up. But how wrong was I…”

He shifts in his seat, leaning back so he’s not so hunched over, his hands now in his lap, still clenched together.

“They sliced down my back… extracted my wings and-” Cas inhaled shakily before blowing it out, the corners of his eyes beginning to prickle.

“We get it,” Dean says softly. Cas looks up and meets his eyes. Dean offers a sympathetic smile while Jack looks like he may pass out. His face has paled a little, mouth hung open in disbelief,’“I didn’t think that was possible…”

“It was… excruciating. Had Hannah not found me when she did…” Cas looks sheepishly to Dean, “I would not have lasted long at all…”

“It’s okay,” Dean says in that same gentle tone.

“Cas- I-” Sam was at a loss for words, “I had no idea.”

“Of course not,” Cas replies a little too short.

“Have you tried to heal them?” Jack says quietly.

Cas gives him a flat smile, “yes. As well as Hannah and Gabriel. It appears they are damaged beyond repair…”

“May I try?”

All Cas can do is shake his head.

“Please let me try, Cas?”

At the same time as Dean says, “that’s enough,” Cas pushes his chair out and mumbles an, “excuse me,” not looking back at the table as he exits the room and heads for his own.

He can hear Jack and Dean arguing lightly with each other, but he pays it no more attention than he does the tears welling up in his eyes. When he approaches his room he shuts the door gently behind him and leans against it, sighing out deeply as the tears fall from his eyes freely.

He wipes them away and laughs to himself at his own humanity. ‘An angel crying,’ he thinks to himself. My, how far had he fallen indeed.

A knock at his door pulls him out of his self pity as well as a gentle soft call of his name, “Cas?” Cas could pick out Dean’s voice anywhere.

Cas wiped his face one more time before kicking off the door and opening it.

“You good?” Dean asks leaning against the frame.

Cas nods and tries to put on his best smile. But Dean raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms over his chest, looking straight through his facade.

Cas sighs and steps to the side to let him in, and shuts the door behind them.

He doesn’t have much in his room. His bed hasn’t been used in a couple of days, his few personal items are the books he’s snagged from the library to read while the boys sleep. Very bare compared to Dean’s.

Dean walks in and takes a seat at the edge of the bed facing Cas.

“Talk to me,” he says quietly, his hands folded between his legs.

Cas takes a seat next to Dean, hands clasped, and in his lap but he. Twiddles his thumbs, a nervous tick he developed as a human that he can’t get rid of of, “I-” but he doesn’t know what to say. Or where to start. Or how to explain it. Or if he even wants too. Because as soon as he starts to think about it again, the heaviness is back in his chest, and the warmth in his eyes returns, “-I can’t…”

He takes a moment to compose himself, to settle the heavy beating of his heart, and stares up at the ceiling. He takes a couple of breaths before looking over at Dean, his deep green eyes studying him, not judging, but observing, paying attention to every little move Cas makes. Cas looses his breath looking at him and how alluring his gaze is, so he focuses back on his hands and whispers, “I don’t believe this is something Jack can fix.”

“Why not let him try?”

“Would I be of more use to you if he succeeded?” Cas snaps before he could think and looks over to Dean again. The hurt in his eyes not gone unnoticed, but the pending answer in them tugged on his heart.

“It’s not about you being useful. It’s about you being you,” he replies in his defensive tone.

Cas sighs and looks back down to his hands. When he first lost his ability to fly it felt a lot like imprisonment. Human transportation is slow and tedious. Dean’s music and rambling did pass the time rather pleasantly, and he will admit that he does like his off key singing, enjoys it even, however it was no comparison to being able to “zap” places in a matter of milliseconds. The freedom to go anywhere in the universe at anytime whenever he wanted. Even after all these years, driving still makes him feel claustrophobic at times, something that will still probably take a while to get used to.

“Cas, you got to know you’re not here to be useful right?” Cas looks back up at him. The frown set in his brows mimicing the slight tinge of panic and worry in his voice.

Cas squints his eyes and frowns a little himself, “Of course I do,” and looks back down at his lap, “that was unfair of me to say, I apologise.”

“Good,” Dean says rather shortly.

“Besides,” Dean starts again, bumping their shoulders together, “I hated being zapped places anyways.”

Cas chuckles a little at his response, remembering Dean’s complaints of not being able to poop after they travelled together, or the uneasiness he felt in his stomach, or the one time his ear didn’t stop ringing for a whole day. Humans weren’t really designed for teleportation. But still, the weight of what he’s lost weighs heavily on his heart and mind. Always there in amongst the background noise. Deep down he knows he’s not kept around to be useful, but the guilt still lingers in the space between them whenever they have a long drive ahead, or rare ingredients to find for whatever spell they need.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“What for?”

“For telling Metatron where to find you and Sam…”

“But you didn’t…”

Cas turns to him then, “but I would have. I almost had. And for that, I am sorry.”

“Cas-”

“No Dean. I think about that moment all too often. The pain is something I will never forget, but I would have never forgiven myself had something happened to you because of my wrong doings… again.”

Dean didn’t try to protest again. Instead he places his hand over Cas’. It wasn’t until then he realises how tightly he had clenched them together. He allowed himself to relax a little, the warmth and slight clamminess of Dean’s touch grounding him.

“Can I see?” Deans voice, barely above a whisper, breaks through their silence.

“What?” Cas asks, more shocked that Dean would even want to see his broken wings than he is that he asked at all.

A blush fills Dean’s face faintly as he pulls his hand away but in spite of his obvious embarrassment he asks again, “can I see them?”

“I… it’s- they’re not… visually appealing…” he says, trying to swallow the dryness in his throat, “I don’t think you’ll be able to see them anyway…”

“So?” Dean asks, pleading green eyes begging Cas to fulfil his request.

Cas’s heart beat heavier and faster in his chest, his stomach turned a little making him feel slightly nauseated but he stood before he could talk himself out of it, because how could he deny Dean anything?

“Fine, but not here. I need more space…” and leads the way out of his room and down the hallway towards the garage.

“More space…?” He hears Dean mumble behind him.

Sam and Jack were no longer in the common areas, and for that he was thankful. Between Jack’s sympathetic need to help, and Sam’s guilt filled eyes, he’d rather not have to face either of them.

Cas opens the door to the garage and lets Dean in first. As he closes the door after him as Dean turns the lights on, but Cas immediately turns them back off, plunging the room into complete darkness, “dude?”

“No lights,” Cas says walking passed Dean towards the impala.

“Then how will you even se-”

Dean stops abruptly as Cas turns the headlights of the impala on, plunging the room into a soft yellow glow. He turns around to face him, still standing at the door.

Dean, after a moment of adjustment, makes his way over with a confused frown on his face, “oh, yeah, sure, we can’t use the free electricity, but yeah, let’s drain baby’s battery,” he mumbles under his breath, but Cas can hear it regardless of his volume.

“Humans cannot perceive an angels true form, as you already know, but you can see the shadows…” he starts, shrugging off his trench coat, folding it neatly and places it on the hood of the car.

“Shadows?” Dean asks, arms crossed while he watches Cas. He shrugs off his suit jacket and ignores the fluttering in his stomach as Dean’s eyes track his every move.

“Yes, Dean, you will only be able to see the shadows they create, not how they actually look,” he folds the jacket up neatly too and starts undoing his tie.

“Wait, Cas, hang on,” Dean says now standing in front of him, “are you-? I was asking about your scars…”

Cas freezes, stomach dropping, his fingers still on the knot of his tie, and looks into Dean’s eyes. A wave of embarrassment floods through him and warms his face and chest, definitely reddening.

“You were willing to show me your wings?” He asks incredulously, as if it’s the most sacred thing that Cas could do for him. And it kind of is. Exposing himself this willingly, and openly, is kind of intimate. He has never voluntarily showed anyone or any angel his wings without the intent of intimidating them. He imagines this is how humans would feel when they are perceived completely naked for the first time, excited but terrified all at once.

“I-” he tries to speak but his voice cracks, stopping him. How could he not have understood what Dean was asking of him? Does Dean even realise how profound it is for him to show him his wings? Would he even appreciate the weight of such an act?

“Cas,” he says breathlessly and my goodness does Cas love the way his name sounds that way, “Isn’t this… a big deal?”

Cas swallows the lump in his throat and continues undoing his tie, more so as something for his hands to do instead of standing still and awkward, “…yeah.” He says pulling the fabric from around his neck and rolls it up in his hands.

“You… are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to do this…” Dean says taking the tie out of his hands and leaning into his line of sight to catch his eyes.

Cas takes a breath and looks Dean up and down, “I trust you,” he says slowly and takes the folded tie back from Dean and places it with his other clothes, beginning to undo the buttons to his shirt.

He untucks the fabric from his pants to reach the last button and shrugs himself out of the sleeves, catching the way Dean averts his gaze when he notices Cas looking at him.

A slight flush fills Dean’s cheeks as he awkwardly runs his fingers through his hair and down to the back of his neck, “well… what do you need?”

Cas grabs him by the elbow and pulls Dean along to the front of the car, standing back to the hood between the headlights, “your patience.” Is all he says as he turns to walk towards the empty wall a few meters in front of the car, but Dean grabs a hold of his arm before he could walk away.

“Jesus, Cas,” is all he says and Cas can’t help but tense, knowing he’s looking at the pair of pink parallel scars that run down from just below his shoulder to half way down his back. From what Cas could see by looking in the bathroom mirror, they’re thick and viscous, and were nearly impossible to heal due to the angelicness of the wound.

Dean drops his grip on him and Cas takes it as his cue to continue on, so he does, ignoring the heat in his face and tingling where Dean held him.

He stands about a meter in front of the wall, just enough space for the shadows to appear higher than his body so Dean could actually see them, and kneels to the ground. He sits on his feet and place his hands on his thighs and hangs his head low, he doesn’t want to see the look on Dean’s face when he realises just how broken he really is.

So he closes his eyes and relaxes his upper body and summons his grace. He takes a moment to prepare himself before imagining his wings unfolding and extending wide, like a big stretch first thing in the morning.

His left wing opens easily, smoothly and wide. His right, however, cracks a little like the popping of the knuckles in his fingers, and pinches at the joint before expanding out. Cas only winces slightly as a shock of pain runs down the bone and into his shoulder blade as he stretches it out for the first time in months. A wave of instant relief washes over him as he lengthens them both wide and high and displays them for Dean.

A gasp in front of him has him squeezing his eyes shut and his stomach stirring. He knows they’re not pretty to look at. His right has no feathers left, just soft fur like skin covering the bone. It’s bent in the middle where the bone was forcefully snapped, and a couple of inches shorter at the end where Metatron’s followers had begun to amputate it. His left one, however, has a couple of feathers that have slowly begun to grow back along the tip of his wing, some long, some very short and some of them fluffy. Most of them fall out after a few weeks of growth, keeping their length short. Some have fallen out now as he’s opened them up, the floor to his left littered with white gold specs of a fur like substance, almost like dust, in the reflection of the lights.

The burning returns behind his eyelids and his heart stutters in his chest. Time feels like it moves far too slow as Cas kneels on the ground before Dean, as bare as an angel can be before a human. He keeps his head low and his eyes clenched until Dean whispers, “Castiel,” into the thickness of the air between them.

He can’t help but look up at Dean through his tear filled eyes at the echo of his full name on Dean’s lips. A name he hasn’t heard Dean call him since the angels fell. A name that, he’s been called for centuries, all of a sudden sounds foreign to his own ears.

But Dean’s eyes don’t meet his, they dart from his left to his right, taking in what little of his true from he can see. Wide, and curious, and beautiful green eyes sparkling in the refraction of light coming from Castiel’s grace.

He bows his head again and mutters low on his breath, “I did say they are not pleasing to observe.”

“No,” Dean says earnestly. Cas doesn’t lift his head when he hears Dean’s boots on the floor treading closer his way. Not even as Dean kneels on the floor in front of him. But two hands cup his cheeks ever so gently, as if he were made of glass, and slowly lifts his head up to meet his gaze. This close, Cas can see the blue of his own eyes shining back at him through Dean’s, bright and blue and…

“No, they’re beautiful,” Dean declares breathlessly.

Cas’s mouth opens slightly in astonishment as his eyes well up and his vision blurs softly.

“You’re beautiful,” Dean whispers as the tears fall silently from Cas’s eyes, down his cheeks, and into the palm of Dean Winchester’s hands, “thank you,” he adds and the admiration in Dean’s voice makes it harder for Cas to keep himself together, as a soft sob escapes his lips.

Dean wipes away his eyes with the pads of his thumb before pulling his hands away to rest on his own thighs and Cas looses his breath at the sight of the righteous man on his knees before him; open, and authentic, and nothing but the purest of intentions.

“Dean…” Cas starts but doesn’t know what to say, or how to express his gratitude.

Dean shakes his head, “no, Cas. You don’t have to say anything,” he says in a low hushed tone, his eyes flicking back up to the broken one.

“…Does it… hurt?” He asks timidly.

Cas nods slowly, “A little…”

Dean nods at that and squints at the shadow, brows deepening ever so slightly.

“What is it?” Cas asks tilting his head to the side, trying to get a better read on him.

“No-nothing. I- I can kinda see ‘em,” he stutters still squinting.

Cas squirms a little under the scrutiny, “how do you mean…?”

“There’s a…” he pauses, perhaps trying to find the right words, “A-a shimmer? I guess? Kinda like.. looking through water…” he says pinching his eyes as if focusing too hard put strain on them.

Cas couldn’t help but smile tenderly at the man before him. Very rare is it that a human can see an angels true form. Even a slight peak at such a being will burn the eyes right out of their socket, melting the surrounding tissue and vessels. He’s not sure whether it has to do with Dean being the chosen vessel himself, or their profound bond, but a part of him isn’t even surprised at all that Dean can see that much. He wonders if maybe he could perceive more…

“Try and touch them?” Cas suggests quietly.

Dean gapes at him, “what?”

Cas blushes and adverts his gaze down to his hands, “I don’t know if you can… but you may try.”

He chances a look back up to Dean’s face, staring mesmerised back at him, “You sure?”

Cas can only nod his encouragement. He watches Dean process his request, the way he licks his lips before gulping and taking a deep breath as he glances up at Cas’ unharmed wing. And then ever so slowly, almost like if he moved too fast he would scare Cas away, he reaches his hand up. Cas doesn’t think anything would happen, maybe a slight ripple in the current, or a slight rush of wind as he passes through the ‘shimmer’ but when Dean’s fingertips graze the surface of delicate skin, Cas gasps. Dean’s pulls his hand back suddenly and almost like an electric shock running through his body, Cas squints his eyes closed as the most intense wave of pleasure coursed a through him. He clenches his fist and squeezes his eyes shut, and steadies his breathing.

“Cas!” Dean calls out but to Cas it sounds distant and muffled. Dean calls for him again and Cas snaps his eyes open, Dean’s hand on his shoulder, the other on his knee. He hadn’t noticed he had put his hands on him, and now his face is mere inches from his, “hey, what the hell, man?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs shaky and a little panicked, “I didn’t think anything would happen,” he admits sheepishly.

“Are you okay?” Dean pulls himself back but his eyes don’t leave his face, worried for what might happen if he looks away.

“I’m fine. Are you alright?” Cas gives Dean a once over. He appears to be fine…

“Yeah, no, I’m good, I thought I hurt you…” he admits and Cas sighs in relief, glad no harm came to Dean.

“No, no it didn’t hurt…” he says, confused, remembering what he felt… “it was…” electric? Chilling? “…overwhelming…” he settles on.

Dean nods, still not entirely convinced.

“I would like for you to try again.”

“Oh- n-no, no way,” Dean says moving to stand, but Cas reaches out, his hand grabbing his thigh stopping him in his tracks, “Please,” but the sudden movement causes Cas’s wings to flow with the movement making him wince and grunt in pain, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth, at the ache running down the right side of his body.

“Cas-”

“I’m okay. I just moved to quick,” he says slowly pulling back, Dean still watching his every move.

“Cas I- I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wont,” he says assuredly sitting back up straight.

Dean still looks unconvinced though, his brows frowned in a deep, worried, line, jaw clenched, eyes wide and watching, “stop me if I do.” It’s not a question, but a demand. He’s telling him to stop him, knowing that if he asks, Cas would probably let him go on even if it hurts. So Cas nods his agreement and braces himself, trying to keep his body relaxed, expecting the sensations this time to come.

He keeps his eyes opened this time as Dean’s hand reaches out, trembling ever so slightly, and pauses right before he makes contact. They lock eyes and Cas can see the anxiety, plain as day, in Dean’s. He gives him the smallest upturn of his lips, encouraging him as gently as he can to continue. He hears Dean suck in a breath before ever so slowly reaching forward again until his fingertips, in a feather like touch, graze Cas’s skin ever so lightly. A feeling, almost like a tickle, dances on the skin where his fingers sit before it bolts like a shiver down his spine, soft but intense, new, and unfamiliar.

Cas shudders at the feeling, as Dean applies more pressure, still soft, still gentle, and strokes up just a little. Cas can feel the feathers pull and turn under Dean’s fingertips and it sends an almost feverish feeling down his wing and into his chest. Cas can’t help but gasp at the same time Dean exhales a, “woah.” His eyes begin to prick in the corners, and his breathing picks up pace as his grace begins to quiver, a slight tremor forming throughout his body. He squeezes his eyes shut as to not blind Dean by the bright white light glowing from within them, as a faint running softly echoes throughout the garage.

Dean pulls his hand back nervously, “hey,” he says softly, “what’s happening?”

“Sorry,” Cas whispers, tensing, trying to regain control over his grace before his reaction accelerates further gaining the attention of the other occupants of the bunker. His fists clench hard against his thighs, the muscles in his arms so tense they feel like they’re burning. He tries to focus on breathing but his body feels heavy, almost like he’s being crushed. The air feels thick, as if he’s underwater, though he can feel his body shaking, struggling to contain him. He mutters a few words of Enochian low to himself repeatedly in an attempt ground himself, but it’s not until Dean’s hands, one on his right shoulder, another on his left thigh just above his knee squeeze him gently that he can feel his body calming down, relaxing once again.

“Sorry,” Cas whispers again, his face warm and wet. He wipes at his cheek and looks at his hand, expecting a crimson streak of blood, but it’s just water, tears. He hadn’t even noticed he was crying… again. He had never done such a thing in front of Dean, or ever really, and now he’s up to number three for the day alone.

“What just happened?” Dean asks pulling back and giving Cas back his space.

Cas wipes his face dry and folds his wings back away, cringing again as his broken one collapses weakly into itself and tucks away. His timing couldn’t be more perfect, as the door to the garage swings open, and in storms Sam with an Angel Blade gripped firmly in his hand and Jack standing ready behind him, “what the hell was that?” He demands walking further into the garage, looking around. Cas’ stomach sinks with anxiety, and nervous disappointed that he had created enough of a disturbance to concern Sam and Jack.

Dean stands up then, leaving Cas still kneeling on the ground. He takes the opportunity to lean into his shadow, blocking the headlights from his view.

“Um… what’re you guys doing?” Jack asks curiously taking in the sight of a half naked kneeling Cas in front of Dean.

“Nothing,” Dean says in his usual gruff macho tone that implied ‘none of your damn business’ as he steps to the side to block the boy’s view of Cas.

Sam raises his eyebrows at the sight of them, and what a sight that must be. It doesn’t help that Cas is flushed and a little out of breath either…

“Are we interrupting sex?” Jack asks amusedly, and honestly, Cas can’t even blame him for coming to the conclusion. That doesn’t stop him from leaning from behind Dean’s stance to frown at the kid, squinting his eyes slightly as if to say, ‘why would you even ask such a thing.’

Sam scoffs as Dean chokes and sputters for a response other than a defensive, “No.”

“Then what are you doing?” Sam asks chuckling amusedly, the same smirk still plastered on his face as he watches Dean squirm under his gaze.

Dean stammers for a response, clearly uncomfortable sharing with Sam what they were actually doing. Cas takes the opportunity to slowly stand from his position on the floor, brushing off the dust and dirt from his hands onto his pants. He waves his hands over his knees and within a matter of seconds, his pants are clean again.

“An exercise in trust,” Cas says walking to meet Dean at the hood of the car, reaching around behind him for his shirt.

“And the sounds just now?” Sam asks, body language becoming defensive.

“Me,” is all Cas offers up, shrugging his shirt back on and begins buttoning it. It’s mundane tasks such as this when he’d rather participate in the experience of doing it himself rather than using his powers.

Sam scoffs at his response, looking away from him, towards Jack, and shakes his head, “fine. Yeah. Okay. Good. Well just… we’ll leave you to it…”

Cas only feels slightly bad as Sam gestures for Jack to follow him, exiting the garage.

Jack looks between Cas and Dean, and smiles cheekily before waving them goodbye and following Sam out of the room.

Dean sighs in relief beside him and turns to face Cas, running a hand through his hair, “jeez, did you have to be so short with him?” He walks over to the door, leaving Cas still buttoning his top, and flicks the overhead lights on.

“Would you rather I have told him what we were doing?” Cas asks, tucking in his shirt to his pants when Dean rejoins him and turns the Impala’s lights off. He did not answer him, though Cas knew that he wouldn’t when he asked it.

Instead he deflects, “can’t you just mojo yourself back into those,” he asks handing Cas his tie.

“Thank you. I prefer the manual labour,” he wraps the tie around his neck, only a little confused on which way it’s supposed to face before the knot is tied, deciding that he doesn’t really care which way it faces, before tucking one side over the other and looping it through.

Dean huffs, and Cas knows he’s watching him mess up the knot. Suddenly aware of the eyes on him, he looses his focus and decides to undo it and mojo it on later.

“Dude, give it here,” he offers and gently swats Cas’ hands out of the way. Cas looks down at Dean’s hands, watching as he carefully measures the length of the fabric, pulling the thicker side down much further than Cas had it before crisscrossing them.

He lifts his head, looking up at Dean then, giving him a little more room at the collar to work with. This close, he could see everything so clearly, so perfectly. How long and fine his eyelashes are, how they perfectly dust the tops of his cheekbones as he focuses on the task at hand. He could see all the different shades of green that made up the iris of Dean’s beautiful eyes. All of the individual hairs that built the perfect stubble across Dean’s jaw. The slight dryness of Dean’s lips and all the fine lines and wrinkles in them. He could practically count all the freckles that glitter Dean’s face. Of course he’s familiar with every single one of them, but it’s still beautiful to be able to carefully examine them this closely. Beautiful. Dean had called him that earlier. And it had made his heart yearn for more, more of Dean, more of their connection, just… more.

Dean clears his throat then and a light flush of pink begins to spread across his cheeks and nose, as he taps Cas’ chest, signifying that he was done. Cas blinks out of his little daze and lookes down at the perfectly tied knot, “thank you.”

Dean smiles a little awkwardly and chuckles nervously taking a couple of steps back to lean against the side of his car.

Cas finishes dressing himself, shrugging on his jacket, followed by his coat and tucking his hands in his pockets and joins Dean, leaning against the frame next to him.

“So uh….” Dean starts, and chuckles nervously, cutting himself off.

Castiel remains silent next to him, allowing him the space to find the words on his own.

“How… what was it like?”

Cas glances at Dean beside him, face flushed, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other. He doesn’t look at him, just stares down at the floor in front of them.

Cas smiles to himself and looks ahead, admiring the vintage cars in front of them, “good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cas sighs. He could practically feel the relief rolling off of Dean.

“So the…” he trails off waving one of his hands in front of him. Cas frowns at his hand, not really sure what he’s asking him but patiently waits for him to continue.

“The shaking… and the ringing…?”

“Yes,” Cas says and nods, looking at the ground in front of him. He feels his face and chest warm as the feelings rush back through him momentarily.

“No one has ever touched them before. It was quite sensitive… overstimulating, if you will.”

“So not painful?”

“No, not at all. Just… overwhelming.”

“Good… that’s… that’s good.”

“It was.”

Silence falls between them, but neither of them move. From the corner of his eye, he watches as Dean looks around the garage, his eyes darting from one object to another, yet he makes no effort to move.

“Would you like some time alone?” He asks, not sure if he’s made Dean uncomfortable or not… He’s gotten pretty well at reading a situation but sometimes, in moments like these, he’s not sure what the appropriate social protocol is.

“No!” He says quickly followed by a nervous laugh, “ah… no. But I think I need to get out for a bit…” he admits pushing himself off the car.

“Come for a drive?” He says patting the roof of his car, leaving his arm resting along the frame, “she needs fuel, and we need snacks.”

Cas nods as Dean opens the door and folds himself in.

Cas takes a breath before pushing himself off and joining him in the vehicle as Dean turns the key and she rumbles to life.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and types away at it whilst the garage opens. Once she’s finished, his shoves his phone back in his pocket and explains, “let Sam know, just in case,” and they make their way through the tunnel, down a few side streets and onto the open road.

With the windows down, whatever tape in the deck turned down low, and the comfortable silence between them, Cas doesn’t feel so trapped. The wind in his face and through his hair feels rather nice, refreshing even, cool against his flushed skin.

Dean beside him looks much more relaxed too, although, he usually always did when they were on the road. His fingers tapping rhythmically against the steering wheel, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the door, half out the window. He looks at peace almost. And he drives like this the short distance to the fuel station.

Cas gets out of the car with Dean and leans against the side while Dean fills it, “I’m thinking jerky, popcorn, and pork rinds. What do you want?” Cas thinks about it for a moment… as a human he enjoyed the tastes of sweet foods, not the greesy stuff or salty stuff Dean liked. But now that he’s himself again, food doesn’t really taste the same… nor does it elicit the same emotional enjoyment… As a human he could ignore the individual molecules, but now it’s hard to get past it. However, their last movie night, the sweet popcorn Dean made him try was rather delicious.

“What was the popped corn we had when we watched the movie with the robots?”

Dean rolls his eyes at him and groans as he hangs the pup back up, “transformers, dude! And it was kettle korn, the caramel flavour I think. Is that what you want?”

“Please.”

They walk in together, Dean stuffing his arms with different flavoured jerkies and popcorn and chips. He makes Cas grab two soft drinks from the fridge and a no sugar flavoured water for Sam and at the counter he grabs a container of plum pie and a salad bowl.

Their items are handed back to them in one big bulging bag that thankfully doesn’t bust as they walk back to the car.

“Wait Cas, before we leave,” Dean stops him just before they part ways to get into the car.

Cas turns to him, curious, but a little worried seeing the frown on his face.

He digs through his pocket and dangles the keys between them, “I want you to drive.”

Cas’ mouth and stomach drops a little in surprise, his heart thumping away heavily in his chest. Dean barely lets Sam drive the impala, and now he’s handing him the keys.

“Dean,” Cas starts but he’s at a loss for words.

“Seriously. You shared something so… so big with me and I want to do the same for you,” his cheeks flush a soft shade of rosey pink at the admission and all Cas can do is stare at him gobsmacked.

“I mean… it’s not really the same thing… but this is all I have,” he says, beginning to backtrack, “and I trust you, too, Cas. I do. So please,” he jingles the keys and Cas reluctantly takes them.

“You don’t have to do this,” is all he says as Dean already walks to the passenger door.

Cas looks down at the silver keychain in his hand and looks back up at Dean who isn’t paying him any attention, or trying not to anyway. He nods to himself and takes his new place in the drivers seat, the weight of what this means to Dean not lost on him. Cas checks his mirrors, only having to adjust the rear view, and turns the key. The car rumbles to life once more, purring under Castiel’s hands. He grips the wheel tight and slowly rolls it out of the station, carful to angle it going down the drive so he doesn’t scrape it before slowly accelerating once on the road.

“You can loosen the death grip,” Dean chuckles from beside him.

Cas becomes aware of how tense he is and wipes his clammy hands, one by one, on his thighs. He adjust his grip and rolls his shoulder slightly, trying to loosen the anxiety in him.

“Sorry…”

“Why are you nervous?”

Cas glances over Dean’s way briefly, their eyes meeting for a slow second before he turns back to the road.

“I am not accustomed to driving and this is your prized possession,” he replies as if it answers all of Dean’s questions.

Dean chuckles softly again.

They pull at a red light and Cas is glad for the break. His hands had started to become sweaty and tight around the wheel again. He wipes them on his pants and returns them as the light flicks to green. As he takes off, a vehicle flies past in front of him, running the red. Cas gasps and slams on the breaks, Dean barely having enough time to brace himself against the dash as Cas narrowly stops in time before they are hit. Cas can’t move. There’s a vehicle behind him, honking, but Cas is struck still, his breathing heavy and hard in his lungs, body rigid.

“Cas, you gotta go buddy,” Dean says to him, but it’s muffled and distant. The car eventually drives around them, honking as they continue, but Cas still can’t move.

Dean gets out and walks around to his side, “shuffle over,” he says but Cas can’t move his hands from the wheel.

Dean reaches in front of him and puts it in park and nudges his shoulder, “move over,” he says again. He gently takes Cas’s hands off of the wheel which snaps Cas back into the moment. He clenches his fists a few times to loosen them up and slides into the passenger seat, his whole body hot and sweaty, uncomfortably so.

Dean drives them out of the intersection and pulls over after they’ve cleared it. He parks the car again and turns to Cas, one hand on his shoulder, the other still on the wheel, “we’re okay.”

Cas nods into his lap as the embarrassed tears well in his eyes.

“You’re okay,” he voices again.

Cas nods into his lap again as a hand gingerly cups his cheek, gently moving his head so he can look at him.

“You are okay.”

Cas takes in a deep breath then and blinks away the tears. He refuses to cry in front of Dean Winchester one more time today.

“You did everything right. I’m not mad. You saved us from a wreck. Okay?”

‘His first near miss,’ he thinks as he huffs out a breath.

“Okay?” Dean presses once more.

“Okay,” Cas whispers back.

“Do you want to keep driving?”

Cas immediately shakes his head, “no. No thank you.”

“That’s okay… but when you feel confident again, we can try again.”

“No thank you,” Cas says turning away to face the passenger window.

Dean squeezes Cas’s shoulder before he turns back in his own seat and pulls them back onto the road, “yes. I have rebuilt this thing from the ground up more times than I can count. That back there, not your fault. And even if that dick did hit us, yes I would be pissed, but not at you. And I would have fixed it, okay. There’s been nothing wrong with my baby that I haven’t been able to fix, okay. So yes, maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but I want to share this with you, okay.”

Cas looks over at Dean then. The sincerity in his voice tugging on his heart.

“Please don’t let this discourage you,” he adds as they share a brief moment of eye contact. All Cas can do is watch Dean. He can’t speak, at a loss for words once more, so he just watches him. Watches his relaxed form even after their near miss, one hand on the wheel, and the other reaches over, palm down in front of Cas. He looks down at it confused but opens both of his anyway, not really sure what Dean’s looking for. Cas looks back over to him as Dean looks over at their hands quickly and takes Cas’ left hand in his, intertwining their fingers and holding on firmly. Cas does the same and he can’t help the small smile that tugs on his lips, a new heaviness swells in his chest.

They drive the rest of the way home like this, Dean only using one hand to park the car back in the garage, and Cas couldn’t help but be amazed at how easily Dean could reverse park one handed. Dean squeezes Cas’s hand as he turns the car off, but he doesn’t let go just yet.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Cas nods, his heart still beating erratically at their intertwined hold, although the feeling is nothing compared to what Dean does next. He squeezes Cas’s hand once more and lifts his hand to his lips. Cas gasps softly as Dean closes his eyes and places a gentle kiss on the back of Cas’s hand.

Dean chuckles nervously as he releases Cas’s hand, “I bet Sam’s waiting on us,” he says low and hushed, neither of them making an effort to move, Cas not wanting their time alone to come to an end. He did forget that it was Sam’s turn to pick what movie they were watching tonight. He never did find his choices interesting, but it would be worth it to spend the evening next to Dean.

They share one last sweet smile before Dean sighs, “come on,” and they join the boys who were already sat in the Dean cave, just about to start the movie without them. Jack on a beanbag to the left of the TV, Sam in the arm chair next to him, leaving Dean to sit in the other arm chair, and Cas takes residence with a pillow to sit on in front of Dean and between his legs. Sometime through the movie, Cas leans his head back against the seat, Dean’s hands running through his hair. He shuts his eyes, and focuses on the sensations, his breathing becoming even, and all thoughts pushed to the back of his brain. And though he may not technically be asleep, it’s as close to it as an angel could get, blessed to be at the hands of Dean Winchester.

#this was much longer than I anticipated #I just couldn’t stop #no one stopped me #they want to kiss so bad #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #destiel #cas dean #dean x castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack #one shot

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drsbutmakeitspicy · 7 months ago

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(Hello! Brie from the future here! This 'series now have 4 parts, since tumblr delivers them randomly have the links here: part1 - part2(this one) - part3 - part4 )

In most of the Carcar fics that are stuck in my brain I always like to make Sainz Sr. a good Dad that may take some time to really understand that Carlos like men but never treats him bad or gives him the silent treatment.

Like in the last drabble I wrote ("Am I a human chair?")

Sainz Sr. Always asking Carlos "Will Oscar come with us for this travel/flight/trip?" In a way to say he wants Oscar around, wants to know the person his son is in love with. To the point of trying to understand Cricket 🏏 and even tried to teach Oscar some Spanish words (although some very specific ones without Carlos being around but nothing bad)

"It's not a bad word, right?"

"No no no, it's good! You wait to call him that when Reyes is around, ok?"

"But when?"

"You will know"

And then while having dinner in the Sainz' villa, Carlos goes to get the tiramisu from the fridge tells them from the kitchen that he can't find (be it a special bowl or place or something)

Carlos Dad puts the missing thing in front of Oscar and makes an amused expression.

'Oh, it's the sign' Oscar thinks and proceeds to say/yell: "It's in the table, Lindo."

He fews a bit embarrassed not knowing if he said it right or not, Reyes is looking at him giggling, god he wants the earth to open and swallow him. Soon a Ferrari-Red faced Carlos walk in, putting the tiramisu on the table in such a way that the glass make a loud sound. He apologizes and grab Oscar wrist bringging him to the kitchen. Oscar is in trouble.

"Oh god I'm sorry, your dad refused to tell me what it means and asked me to-"

"No no no! It- it is a positive word, can you say it again?"

"...uh Lindo?" Carlos chuckles a bit at Oscars confused expression.

"Not like that! You make it sound like it's a question." He brings Oscar's wrist to his lips, kissing it.

"But what does it mean??? I don't want to keep saying, you're all red! Am I saying dick or something??" He whisper the last part, while pulling Carlos close to him with his free arm around his waist.

"Some couples use it as a petname. It means handsome." Carlos breaks eye contact "I didn't understand at first why couples did it, it sounded so dumb. But now I get it." Carlos looks beautiful in mix of the warm light from the dinning room and the neutral white from the kitchen. The pink on his cheeks, god he sure is Lindo.

"I really want to kiss you right now."

Carlos smiles as he pulls him in, they kiss slow and sweet, nothing too much, Oscar is still traumatized about last time they got caught making out, Reyes teased him for weeks, Sainz Sr kept making comments about wanting grandkids.

#carcar #ficsicantfinish #oscarlos #carloscar #5581 #AMIAHUMANCHAIR

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eyesofbong · 4 months ago

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Red Spider Lily ꕥ

art cred. @taak_CHOI on twitter/x

❀ pairing. Chrollo Lucilfer x Founding!Spider Reader

❁ warning. mention of death. Just pure angst ♡

✿ word count. 1.5k

✽ sypnosis. unrequited love, is still love isn't it just as beautiful?

A/N: This piece was inspired by the random red spider lily I found this morning, blooming in the middle of my yard right on time for September—its season. It was particularly strange since I’ve never had one grow before. (My dog tried to eat it.) Also, the chain I’ve had since I was a child randomly broke a couple of nights ago after being indestructible for years! I’m taking it all as a sign. side eye...

The crimson flowers danced in the wind, their delicate petals reaching out, as if grasping for something lost in the void. Red spider lilies—each bloom a splash of scarlet against the gray, lifeless earth. They thrived here, in this forsaken field, where death had long claimed dominion. You stood among them, feeling the chill of the breeze slip through the narrow spaces between the petals, carrying with it the faint, sweet scent of decay—a cruel reminder that beauty and death often walked hand in hand, inseparable, like lovers bound by some twisted fate.

For a long moment, there was only the wind and the rustle of flowers. You didn’t notice him at first. Not until his voice, soft as a whisper, cut through the silence, slicing into your thoughts like a blade you hadn’t seen coming.

“They say these flowers bloom along the Sanzu River,” Chrollo murmured, each word caressing the air like a secret. “Guiding souls to their next life. A fitting backdrop, don’t you think?”

You turned slowly, as if moving through water, your heart stumbling in your chest. And there he was—Chrollo, standing at the edge of the field. His dark cloak fluttered slightly in the wind, like a shadow with its own life. He looked almost like one of the flowers, swaying in the breeze, a figure easily lost among the shifting light and shadows. He gazed intently at the sea of red, a faint smile playing on his lips, yet it never reached his eyes. Eyes dark and deep, like an abyss that promised to swallow you whole.

His expression was unreadable and distant, as if he were looking at something far away, something only he could see.

“I always thought their beauty was wasted on something so fleeting as death,” he continued, his gaze never wavering. “But maybe that’s why they’re so beautiful... because they don’t try to hold on.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, yet they left you feeling hollow, like an echo of something you couldn’t quite grasp. There was a time when you knew that face so well, when every subtle shift in his expression, every flicker in his eyes, told you more than words ever could. But now, that face was a stranger’s—a mask you could no longer read, a portrait painted with shadows and cold light.

You longed for the warmth you once saw there, the softness that had made you believe in things you knew were impossible. His mind, once an open book, had become a locked room, the key stolen, leaving you stranded on the outside.

He stepped closer, and you felt the air shift around you, charged with something you couldn’t name. Your body tensed, muscles tightening as if preparing for a blow that never came. His fingers brushed against yours, so lightly it might have been a dream, as he handed you a single red spider lily. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, an electric jolt that numbed the ache you carried inside—the yearning you kept hidden, even from yourself.

The flower trembled in your hands, and you held it as if it were made of glass, fragile enough to shatter at the slightest pressure. It felt like a lifeline, a thread binding you to this world, to him. To everything you had ever wanted but knew you could never have. Because this was love to you. A quiet, desperate love with no place in words. A love that thrived in shadows, in stolen glances, in moments when his hand brushed yours and sent your heart racing.

You were content to hide it, to bury it deep where he would never see, because you knew he didn’t need to know. You’d rather pretend. Pretend that this was enough—that his presence, his breath mingling with yours in the cold night air, was all you needed.

You looked down at the flower in your hand. It was small and fragile, its petals a deep, crimson red, like drops of blood on bone. It was nothing compared to the treasures you had stolen for him, the riches you had laid at his feet, hoping for a smile, a word, a touch. And yet, it was everything. This single, fleeting gesture—a flower plucked from the earth, handed to you without thought or care—was worth more than anything. The fact that he had given it to you, even with such a cold, detached expression, made your heart flutter like the wings of a dying bird.

Your leader had given you a flower. You could survive on that alone, on the knowledge that, for one brief moment, he had seen you and thought of you.

This was love to you, and you were content with it. Hiding your heart from him because you didn’t need to tell him. You’d rather pretend. Because your love was different—silent, enduring, untouched by the light of day. A love that thrived in quiet spaces, where hope and heartache intertwined like the roots of a tree. You would rather pretend, because its purity was its own reward. It wasn’t about wanting something in return. You knew he would never love you back—not in the way you loved him. And that was fine. You had accepted it long ago.

Your love was about loving him so deeply that you were willing to feel everything, even the pain of knowing he would never feel the same. You had become accustomed to that pain; it had become part of you, a constant companion, a reminder that you were alive, that you could love, even if that love would never be returned.

Your love had survived against all odds, even after he had led the massacre of the Kurta. It was a love that filled the spaces between words left unsaid, in looks that lingered too long, in the silent longing that never truly faded. He had always been out of reach, even when you were children. Always slipping through your fingers like smoke, like a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto.

Perhaps that’s why you clung to him so tightly, why you adopted his ideas as your own, why you never questioned his decisions. You would do anything for him. Anything, if it meant you could stay by his side just a little longer, even if that light were cold and indifferent.

Your love was both a gift and a burden, a testament to the heart’s ability to love fiercely without the promise of anything in return. Pakunoda had seen it—the way your love consumed you, the way it burned like a slow, smoldering fire that refused to go out.

“Can you make these feelings go away?” You had whispered to her once, hiding your face in her shoulder, her arms the only sanctuary you knew. “Can you make it stop?”

The sharp pain of the chain cutting into your heart brought you back to the present, tearing you away from that memory. Blood warmed your lips, pooling at the corners of your mouth, and the world around you blurred into a mess of color and sound. You clung to the lily he had given you, cradling it close even as the chains tightened around you, threatening to crush it in your grasp.

You didn’t blame Chrollo. Not for your pain, not for your death. These were choices you had made willingly, with your eyes open and your heart laid bare. You would make them again, a thousand times over, if it meant you could have this—a flower, a moment, a breath in his presence.

The chain user was gone, and you felt the presence of the other Troupe members drawing nearer, their shouts growing fainter in your ears, echoes from a place you could no longer reach. You had seen all the signs. You had known. But still, you had chosen to believe. To pretend. Because it was easier than facing the truth.

Your vision blurred, but you felt him there, his arms around you, holding you close. For a moment, your heart surged with hope—a foolish hope that maybe, just maybe, he cared. That maybe, this time, he would say something—anything to make the pain go away.

Your fingers tightened around the withering red spider lily, its petals soft and fragile against your skin. Through blurry vision, your eyes searched his face, desperate for a sign. But all you found was the same unreadable mask, the same cold distance. The silence between you was suffocating, more painful than any wound.

In that silence, you finally understood—he would never love you the way you loved him. You were just another piece on his board, another pawn in his game.

“But maybe that’s why they’re so beautiful... because they don’t try to hold on.”

Your grip weakened, and the flower slipped from your fingers, its petals scattering like the remnants of your heart.

So, you let go. Not just of the flower, but of the love that had been your constant torment. You released it into the wind, into the void between you, accepting the truth you had fought so hard to deny.

Maybe, as you crossed the Sanzu River, you would see the cities he burned—for you.

#chrollo x reader #chrollo #chrollo hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter #chrollo lucifer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x you #hxh chrollo #phantom troupe #chrollo fanfic #chrollo angst #pakunoda

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chaostroberry1 · 7 months ago

Text

Where the sun can't shine. Apollo×male!reader

Warnings : reader is a little too possessive, Forced marriage, stolkholm syndrome, (No rape included🤬) and yeah. Pictures aren't mine! Sorry if anything is too random, I had to randomly make stuff up. like the scythe, lore, and everything else cus I wrote this till 5am. 😭

About M/N. M/n = reader.

When zues was saved from the clutches of his father, he was being taken care of by his grandmother Gaia, with the young baby getting fed goats milk. Then, Gaia had sprouted a little seedling from the ground, supposed to grow into a mini apple tree, it's purpose was to bear fruit for the young boy. But, one day, the young zues accidentally threw up some of the milk onto the seedling. And to his surprise, the seedling had turned into a full grown young god, named (m/n). Since (m/n) was already matured, Gaia had decided to give him a purpose. To train and take care of zues alongside her until he was fully matured. When the time came for zues' to fight against his father, as well as freeing his siblings—Gaia swallowed (m/n) into the earth, to let him rest for a while until the titanomochy was finished. Once everything was settled, Gaia would release (m/n), letting him out of the earth after his long slumber, and back with the other gods/deity's. Making him one of the strongest beings.—the god of destruction, the title stolen from perses.

•

(m/n), as a forever young god who stopped aging by the time he turned 18, needed to find love as a young man. Until one faithful day, he found an incredibly beautiful god, Named "Apollo", one of Zues' sons.

"that's outrageous! You can't just do this!" A loud cry came from zues, yelling as Hermes calmly served you some desserts. Giving you a respectful nod that you politely returned. "what is there that is so outrageous to you, dear Zues?" You munched on one of the desserts sitting on the table, your eyes showing no signs of fear, or care.

"There had been multiple complaints from the humans about occuring earthquakes, typhoons, volcanic eruptions, and so on! You know something about this, don't you?!" The old man grunted angrily, his hands flying around in the air, a funny sight. "Perhaps I do." He whines at your nerve wreckingly collected response, which was something very impressive nonetheless, your ability to stay calm in the face of challenges was both amazing and annoying to your fellow gods.

"You haven't returned my scythe back to me, dear Zues. This is my way of letting out steam. If you just hadn't lent it to dear Ares over there...which he so thoughtfully broke..then maybe I wouldn't be so pissed right now." You sneered, giving a glaring look towards the trembling figure that sat near zues, clearly wrecking his head for a response.

"I-i'm sorry, mister (m/n) sir! I accidentally just- slipped an-and broke it!" He spoke on the verge of tears, his speech now amusingly scrambled. You gave a sigh, withdrawing your gaze from the two, and sipping on some water.

"you'll have to make this up to me somehow, you know? I loved that scythe a lot." You moved yourself in a more laid-back sitting position, returning your gaze back to zues who cleared his throat, avoiding your eyes.

"yes yes... I will. I assure you that I shall repay you with something of much greater worth!" He boasted, making you raise a brow. What could he have meant by 'greater worth'? Better? Than your weapon?

"something of much greater worth? Which is what, exactly?"

"one of my children."

You stared in silence, before a vein slowly bulged on your face. The atmosphere of the room suddenly dropping. "Do you take me for a joke? Your children...greater worth than my scythe?" Zues chuckled at your angry response, while ares watched with an alarmed look. Panicking over how his dear father was testing the waters of death itself.

"of course i don't take you for a joke. But! I am quite confident that you'll be interested in picking one of them! How about it? Aphrodite? Or Athena? Maybe Artemis-"

"Apollo."

"..."

The room was now full of an eerie silence, all eyes on your figure, before laughter started booming from the old man. like he's heard the funniest joke to have ever been told after multiple centuries boredom. "Ahh! I see he has charmed you then?" You remained with a neutral expression on your face, staying composed as he laughed out loud like an asshole. Ares who just witnessed the whole thing go down, stared and blinked..He was not very used to hearing about marriage between two beings of the same sex. Not that it wasn't normal, but his half brother, and....The god of... destruction???? Getting married??? was he dreaming? Hermes who saw the look on his brother's face, maybe let out a little laugh, snickering to himself.

"you done laughing, old man?" You let out a defeated sigh, while he wiped his tears. "Alright then, but you have to stop the chaos going around! And forgive Ares for breaking your scythe. Then we have a deal."

"very well."

The next day, Apollo was brought in. The atmosphere of the room was incredibly different now that he had showed up, making things brighter than usual. "So? What was I brought here for?" He put his hands on his hips, his always confident smile plastered on his pretty face.

His eyes scanned the room, trying to read the situation at hand, before zues spoke. "Well, apollo, you see...we are kind of in a bad situation. And if we don't act on it quickly, humanity is doomed." He trails off slowly, checking Apollo's face for any signs of negativity.

The god raises a brow, tilting his head while he looks zues up and down, "Is that so? Do you want me to go down there and help them perhaps? I wouldn't mind."

"no no.....it's just..err..we just had a little..talk..with the god of destruction."

Apollo perks up, "lord (m/n)? For what exactly? And why am I included in such important matters?"

"that's the thing...we might've done something to anger the god. Which we decided to repay, for the sake of humanity. So I gave him an offer...which was to marry one of you and your siblings." Zues looked to Hermes who nodded in agreement, only sparking up Apollo's curiosity even more.

"and..?"

"and...I gave him choices....but he insisted on his future spouse being...well......you"

Apollo's eyes widen "no way!" He crossed his arms "I never consented to this! I'm not going to get married to him!" But who could blame him for being angry? He has never even seen the face of (m/n), but whenever the god's name was spoken, it would never fail to strike fear into those who hear it. The only thing Apollo has heard of was all the things the man has done, the power he holds, and why nobody dared defy him.

"I'm truly sorry, but I'm afraid we don't have a choice. He has already chosen you to be his his future spouse, and nothing shall get in the way. You know how he is. You have around 3 days to prepare for the wedding.. Don't worry, you'll both do it in private."

Apollo stormed out angrily, stomping away as he mumbled insults. How dare they do this to him. Without him knowing! He never planned on settling down for marriage, especially with a man he's never met! What has gotten into them?

Before he could think, he bumped into a tall figure, before looking up and staring into the male's eyes, instantly falling for the god before him.

"forgive me, are you okay?"

He nodded slowly, his smile slowly creeping back to his face. All the negative emotions were swallowed up by a tsunami of adoration and love. You looked a little older than him, but that's alright, you looked pretty hot to him anyway.

But Before he could speak, "Pretty little thing.." you mumbled, as your hand caressed his face, looking at him like he was a pretty trinket on display. One that you wanted to take and keep for yourself. Apollo who had just heard your comment, chuckled as he stared you in the eye, "what a bold comment for someone who's just met me."

"do you know who I am?" You grinned, as silence emerged, "I'm (m/n)." With those words alone, you received a gasp of realization from the poor god, who immediately took a step back, staring at you with wide eyes. "Say that again...?" He asked, his voice bearly above whisper.

"I'm (m/n)"

His face suddenly contorted into one of fear and disgust, immediately walking away, trying to breathe after being suffocated under your intense gaze. Unable to speak in your presence. But before he could walk away, he heard one last thing..

"pretty little thing.."

Those were the last words he heard before he opened his eyes. 3 days had passed and there he was, his hand held gently cradled by the same man that had been so disgustingly smitten by him to the point where he was forced into marriage. The only people that could watch their ceremony were a bunch of little imp creatures that looked like they were just taken out of hell. Thank (m/n) for asking hades. Then we have zues, and a few of Apollo's siblings, who all knew just as well as him—that if any of them interfered, their heads would be served on a platter at the dinner table.

He looked at you with sad eyes, before you caresses his face once again, whispering promises in his ear. How you would give him everything he could ever want, aside from a divorce...and all the things you'd do to him and his loved ones if he tried to leave.

"darling...you look absolutely stunning" you smiled, ignoring the tears forming on his face.

No response

"you must have put a lot of effort in choosing your clothes, huh?"

No response

And once you put the ring on his finger, you gave him a gentle kiss, one that he accepted without resistance. Knowing that one wrong move and all of Olympus was done for. All he could do was hope for the best, but a part of him couldn't bring himself to like you at all. You were sick in the head, and it disgusted him so much how you could kill an innocent life without giving a damn...or how you would punish those who angered you in any way.

You said he could still sleep with other people, as long as it isn't a committed relationship. But when they you get too jealous, someone will have to end up disappearing that same day. You brought to him everything he could ever ask for, that along with multiple gifts and beautiful jewelry. Only the best for your most prized possession, right?

Have I forgotten to mention that you were also a twisted enough person who always knows how to mess with his head? All your sick mind games, slowly forcing him to submit to you...before eventually seeing you in a new light. A new god.

You were both together now, and nothing could change that. So why not just...accept it? Yeah, why didn't he thinks about that from the start? It's not like he can do anything about it anyway.

With that, he began to open up, and eventually became head over heels in love with you, just as you are for him.

And now there he was, getting all pretty for you. Flowers on his hair as he dressed in the finest most beautiful robes. Getting ready to see you. He's finally come to his senses and learned to accept his new life. It wasn't that bad, he was just overreacting, and overwhelmed!

So it's all fine to him now, he's learned to accept this new life. Because no matter where he went, or where he tried to run...you'll always find him...

And drag him back to a place...where the sun can't shine.

____

Thanks for reading guys. And yes, I had to write literal lore for the reader just for this specific story. Did y'all notice that the title of the story was mentioned in the last part??? Cool right?? But anyway, that's all.

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strniohoeee · 1 year ago

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Broken

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is depressed, and Matt takes notice to her behavior. Matt being the good friend he is he tries to get her out of her funk, but will it work?🫂

Warnings⚠️: None just mentions of depression. This was a request but Tumblrs being a munch and not letting me add it

Song for the imagine: hope ur ok- Olivia Rodrigo

But, God, I hope that you’re happier today

Cause I love you

And I hope that you’re okay

It’s been getting worse. I hate this feeling, this darkness that consumes me. I wanted nothing more than to feel okay. I hate the way my depression swallowed me whole and made me want to disappear from the face of the earth.

I just wanted to feel okay, I wanted to feel normal and not drained. I know my friends were getting annoyed with me. I would slip into these phases of not wanting to talk to them, see them, go out with them. I mean I could barely get out of my bed to do anything. Often skipping meals and not drinking water. I would just sleep all fucking day and cry when I was awake.

I was fortunate enough to be an influencer, so I didn’t have to worry about actually getting up to work. I posted YouTube drafts and TikTok drafts. It worked for a while, but people started to catch on, and were wondering where I went. I couldn’t even be honest and come out and say I was so depressed I couldn’t even sit up in my bed.

The one person who noticed the fastest was Matt. Randomly one day he started texting me wondering how I was doing, what I was doing, if I wanted to hang out with him and his brothers, if I wanted to join them for dinner, if I wanted to film a video with them. I appreciated it truly, but I also kept lying to him. Telling him that I was busy or I had plans, or I was filming. I could not allow anyone to see me this way. I mean I didn’t even want to see myself this way…..

Matt had put me in a groupchat with Chris and Nick, and honestly it was making me feel better. They kept my mind off of things by constantly making me laugh. I mean they would text from 10AM till 2AM every single day.

The blue eyed freaks🧿🧿

-Y/N can you pleaseeeeee come hang out with us we haven’t seen you in like two months- Chris

-Idkkkk -me

-plzzzzz like you never hangout with us anymore-Nick

-yeah I’ve just been busy-me

-busy??? Yeah right not busy enough to not hang out with us- Chris

-hey if she doesn’t want to hangout don’t force her, but we do miss you and would love to see you-Matt

-thanks Matt🖤-me

-booooo boring come over now, or I’ll come pick you up-Chris

-you can’t even drive Chris-me

-okay….ill get matt to drive me to come pick you up-Chris

-fineeeeee okay fine I’ll be over in a hour-me

-FUCKKKKK FINALLY OMG YES- Chris

-see yall soon<3-me

I had gotten up and decided to shower, washing my hair and just really try to clear my mind, and enjoy the fact that I’m getting to see my friends again. I hadn’t been out of my house in a good month, and this was giving me major anxiety.

I felt like once they’d see me they would know I haven’t been okay, and that’s something that scared me. I had to seem okay. I was never the one who broke down… ever.

I hadn’t finished getting ready. At first I wanted to put on some makeup to hide my dark eyes, but I decided against it because I really wasn’t in the mood. I headed out, and drove to the triplets house. When I got there Matt texted me letting me know that the door was unlocked and to meet them in his room.

I let myself in and walked to Matt’s room.

“Y/N” Chris yelled coming over and hugging me

“Hi guys” I said laughing

“She’s aliveeee” Nick said hugging me

“How have you guys been?” I asked plopping myself down on Matt’s bed with them

“We’ve been good, just filming honestly” Matt said

“Nice that’s always fun” I said

“I love it so much truly, but how have you been?” Nick asked

“I’ve been good, you know. Just uhhh been busy” I said lying straight through my teeth

“Nice, what have you been doing” Matt asked

“Oh you know just filming and editing and just going out with some of my other friends” I said

“I love your hair color by the way, when did you dye it red?” Chris asked me

“Oh like two months ago I need to get my roots done actually” I said running my hands through my hair

“Two months ago? I thought this was recent all your TikTok’s and YouTube videos your hair was black” Matt said looking at me suspiciously

“Oh uhhh” was all I could manage because I knew Matt was onto me

“Okay anyways I’m hungry” Chris said breaking the awkwardness

“Me too” Nick said

“McDonald’s?” Chris asked

“Fuck yes” Matt responded

“Okay Matt can you pick it up for us” Chris said pleading

“Uhhh I guess i have too since yall can’t drive” he said rolling his eyes

“I can drive” I said smiling

“Yayyyy this is why I love you” Chris said

“I’ll mobile order it so it’s less stressful” Nick said

They all put in their orders, and they handed the phone to me. My anxiety making me nauseous and not really in the mood to eat

“Oh I don’t think I’m going to get anything” I said

“WHAT? McDonald’s is your favorite” Nick said

“Uhh yeah I’m just not in the mood” I said

“Do you want something else?” Matt asked

“No I’m not hungry” I said looking at him

Matt nodded before taking the phone, messing with it f and then handing it to Nick.

“Alright let’s head out” I said

“Nick and I want to stay back y’all can go though” Chris said

“Sneaky fucks” Matt said laughing

Matt and I had gotten into my car heading over to the McDonalds

“What’s really going on?” Matt asked

“What do you mean?” I asked glancing over at him

“I know you’re not okay” he said looking at me

“Matt I’m fine” I said

“No you’re not. Your eyes…..I can tell that you’re sad” he said

“I’m just tired is all” I said swallowing thickly

“Y/N be honest…are you okay?” He asked reading my face for an answer

My lip quivered, and a lump formed in my throat. Nobody has asked me if I was okay.

“No” I whispered out in a croak

“Talk to me” he said sitting up

“I just don't know. I’ve been so depressed lately. I haven’t been able to get out of my bed. I’ve just been posting drafts because I can’t even get up to film. I can’t even get up to drink or eat anything. I miss my parents, I miss home and I just feel so alone. You were the first person to text me, and you have helped me a lot actually. You inviting me over was the first thing I have done in a month” I said letting a tear fall

“I’m so sorry you feel that way. I love you so fucking much, and I knew something was wrong that’s why I reached out. I care for you so much, and I don’t want you to struggle alone. I’m here for you” he said looking at me with saddened eyes

“I appreciate it Matt truly. You’re amazing” I said looking over at him and smiling weakly

“Never allow yourself to struggle alone okay. Please reach out to me or Nick or even Chris as crazy as that seems. We will always be here for you….always” he said

“I will. I just was fighting with myself for so long I couldn’t reach out for help” I said wiping my tears

“And that’s okay. No ones pressuring you to reach out, but know that the option is there. I would never turn you away. You know I’ll come flying to you in a heartbeat” he said nudging my shoulder

“I know Matt. I love you so much thank you for being here for me” I said nudging him back

“Also I got you your favorite from McDonald’s. I’m making sure you eat. I can tell you haven’t eaten. I can see it in your face” he said

“Thank you Matt what would I do without you” I said smiling at him

“I’m not sure actually” he said

“Don’t get too cocky” I said pointing my finger at him

We laughed, and I pulled up to the drive thru. We got our food, and we headed back home

We got back to their house, and started to eat in the kitchen. Laughing and catching up. Matt occasionally looking over at me, giving me reassuring smiles and glances.

I spent the night at their house, and I slept in Matt’s room. We watched my favorite childhood movies as he kept asking me if I was okay, and taking small glances at me.

Eventually we ended up falling asleep.

What would I do without Matt?

The End

This was a request, but Tumblr is actually being a dickrider so it wasn’t letting me put it with my story. But anywho I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS ONE🥹��🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines

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neiptune · 21 days ago

Note

hello santa neiptune for your holiday servings i think christmas pudding with either shoyo + a prompt 6 (family invited an old crush/first love to a dinner party) or sunsrin with prompt 19 ("I'm going to buy/make the worst secret Santa gift humanly possible") or atsumu with prompt 13 (neighbourhood festive decoration competition becomes dangerously competitive) smooch smooch smooch smooch

rintaro suna x I'm going to buy the worst secret santa gift humanly possible

“Shut up everyone, it’s time!”, Atsumu’s comically authoritarian tone swallows the chatter, the living room of his apartment growing silent.

“Why can’t we pick who we want to get a gift for?”, Aran grumbles from his end of the couch. The setter frowns.

“Because I think none of you assholes would pick me”.

“Whatever gave that away”, Suna clicks his tongue. A soft, empty stocking collides with his face.

“Yer picking first!”, Atsumu holds the old dunkin donuts box under his nose, shaking it slightly to further shuffle the folded pieces of paper in it.

“I’m going to buy the worst secret santa gift humanly possible”, Rintaro, ever the grinch, grumbles as slender fingers randomly draw a name.

“Rin, you’re supposed to look at it later!”, you lightly elbow him in the ribs but he pulls back, avoiding the jab. The only sign of something flashing across his deadpan features is a slight twitch of the brow as he reads the name he pulled out. Then it’s gone, small piece of paper tucked safely into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Your turn”, Atsumu brings the box to you with a grin. You know he hopes you draw his name, you’re notoriously the best gift giver of the group and he wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the Blue Lock themed calendar Osamu got him the previous year, especially with that insufferable Rin dude occupying the page dedicated to his birth month.

“I hope it’s me”, Osamu crosses his fingers from the other side of the room, where he’s resting his back against the fireplace. You chuckle, keep the small piece of paper in your closed fist as you patiently wait for everyone else to draw their names.

The boys make a whole spectacle out of unfolding the pieces of paper, Atsumu the most teased one between whistles, oohs and ahhs. You make sure not to let the small pang of disappointment shine through your smile: you’re happy it’s Kita, you love Kita. You just would’ve loved for it to be Rin more.

The designated gift exchange day is a week later, right on christmas eve. The anxiety churning in your stomach is suffocating because why would you even get something for him too? All you had to do was pick a nice gift for Shinsuke, the easiest person to please on planet earth. But now there are two extra nicely wrapped presents under the tree in your living room, one of them will make you look like a complete dumbass because there won’t be any logical explanation to justify an additional gift. Atsumu will never shut up about it, like, ever. Fuck.

You’re abruptly pulled away from your thoughts when the doorbell rings, the sound making you jump. Confusion is still written all over your features when you open the door, not expecting any guest or delivery.

“Hey”, Rintaro tosses you a tiny smile to balance the hesitancy out.

“Rin”, surprised, you blink a few times, “you okay?”.

“Yeah. Can I come in?”.

“Of course!”.

He takes off his shoes and slowly steps into your apartment, cheeks unusually flushed courtesy of the cold outside.

“What’s that?”, you curiously peek at the bag he holds in his hand while he walks to your couch and you gingerly trail behind him.

“I’m your secret santa”, he clears his throat, “didn’t wanna give this to you in front of everyone. Don’t make it weird”.

You sit next to him with mirth swarming in stupidly bright eyes. Suna feels his palms getting clammy.

“So you wanted to give me the worst gift humanly possible… early?”.

“Exactly. Here”, he hands you the small paper bag, “you’re welcome”.

“You’re a dick”, you giggle, unable to disguise the affection in your voice.

Inside the bag there are two numbered envelopes. You open the first, smaller one.

“What the…?”, it’s a regular yellow post-it, with a handwritten note.

Congratulations on your hardly earned free time. Make the most of it :)

“Check the other one”, Suna indicates the remaining envelope.

“I’m confused”.

The second gift is… handmade coupons for messy, scribbled options: concert, one meal, roadtrip, win an argument, breakfast.

“You get two coupons. I kinda already have tickets for your favorite band”.

“But”, your throat feels dry, “I don’t… I have to work?”.

“You don’t. I emailed your boss, got you some time off, something you never would’ve done for yourself”, Suna looks away, inscrutable as always. Your heart slams harder against your ribcage.

“Rin”.

He meets your gaze and you offer a smile.

“I got you something too”.

thank you for trusting my writing, hope you enjoy! happy holidays mwah

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou x you #holiday servings event

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 11 months ago

Text

Random SaMS Headcanons:

Sun eats solely gamer food like energy drinks, Mountain Dew, pizza, and Doritos

Moon has chronic pain and has made a cane that resembles Galdalf’s staff

Solar chews his fingers down to the endoskeleton when he’s stressed, thus why he wears gloves all the time.

Lunar has a potted basil plant named Jerry and a potted mint plant named Tom.

Earth can consume gallons of ice cream at once if she’s going through a stressful time.

Kill Code kidnaps abused/neglected kids from abusive homes.

New Eclipse purposely puts on long at fake nails and colors them himself just so he can be like 💅 checking his nails when people are talking to him.

Old Blood Moon has a skull collection from digging and finding them randomly.

New Blood Moon bites metal to calm down.

Servant Eclipse has ‘Wednesday Crystal Mukbang Day’, where he tries to record himself swallow as many crystals as possible before Lord Lunar finds out and tries to stop him. He has gotten to 521 once before Lord Lunar found out.

Lunara eats sheet metal and hacks up metal hairballs every third Sunday.

Lord Eclipse just randomly visits Solar to have a cry sesh and go home.

Lord Lunar struggles to keep Servant Eclipse alive because his brother is so clumsy he’s almost fallen into the Wither Storm hole at least once on a daily basis for years.

Old Moon whispers random shit like ‘the purple blood is on the concrete ceiling in a pentagram’ in New Moon’s ear while New Moon is sleeping.

Ruin bites people he feels safe with.

Jigsaw had a hidden stash of drugs in the daycare. The twins took this stash and ingested every bit of them before Jigsaw got cured and cried for hours because ‘the puppy in the ceiling was crying and whining and they wanna save the puppy but it’s so faaaaaaaaar’ while throwing a fit on the floor like a toddler.

Original Eclipse collected shiny rocks. Lunar inherited his collection, which takes up an entire two story three bedroom home sized bunker.

Feral Moon has one specific Sun plushie he can’t bring himself to maim that he cuddles every night.

Backup Eclipse used purple hair dye on his rays once thinking it might work because Sun considers it hair and he was having a mental breakdown. It did not work but it left purple ‘freckles’ on his rays.

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cacoetheswriting · 2 years ago

Note

heyy

can you do a angst with fluffy ending with eddie x reader on reader birthday (but not that he forgot pls 🙏🏻) you can decide the rest

thank you so much!! 💖💖

gosh i am sooooo sorry for only getting this out to you now! it's been sitting in my drafts, half-finished for far too long! again, super sorry for the delay - and i hope you enjoy 🤍

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.3k content warnings: talk of breakups / heartbreak (eddie & reader are exes), adult language, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol consumption, - very much unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything!

Birthdays weren’t really your thing.

Celebrating getting older stopped being fun when the gifts turned from colourful toys to cards with generic wishes, and when parties went from having bright bouncy castles to drinking cheap wine alone in a messy apartment at the end of an even messier night. From pure, unfiltered joy, to misery and feeling like your life was slipping through your fingers, fast.

There were a few expectations over the last few years — four lucky birthdays to be exact. And these happy memories came into existence thanks to a certain curly-haired, brown-eyed boy.

Eddie first asked you out a few days before your nineteenth birthday and even though the two of you never really talked prior, there was no denying he was really fucking pretty and you had a big fat silent crush on him for quite some time before that faithful afternoon.

He invited you out for burgers, and in the midst of natural conversation, when you let slip that it was your birthday, Eddie also got you ice-cream, asking the waiter to place a single candle in the colourful sundae.

Till this day, it was the most genuine thing anyone has ever done for you. The most romantic too.

And every birthday that followed, every birthday you spent together with the metalhead was beyond special. He made them special.

From balloons and love notes, to heartfelt gifts, various activities during the day and dinners at his trailer or out in town. He even rallied your friends and threw you parties that no longer ended with loneliness. No year was the same. Eddie made them unique and memorable — which you adored him for wholeheartedly.

Unfortunately, the genuine love you shared was not enough and the relationship came to an unforeseen end.

Eddie had big plans of one day becoming a rockstar, practicing guitar in his free time till his fingers bled, and you were studying day and night, working towards your dream degree. Your lives were heading in completely different directions and there came a point where you only saw each other once every fortnight, while your already irregular phone calls were often cut short.

That was three months ago. A breakup as natural as breathing, yet equally as earth shattering.

Even though it was a mutual decision, the pain was ever present and you cried yourself to sleep for weeks after. Eddie took a piece of you when he left and your whole body was in mourning. It didn’t help that everything in what remained of your life reminded you of him. Physical items like the printed t-shirts in your drawer or the mug he branded as his and you never let anyone else use. A Dio song you’d hear randomly or the diner he took you to on your first date. Then there was the emotional side, the soft glimmer in his eyes you remembered when you closed yours and the sound of his laughter you wished you’d hear again.

Things eventually got easier ‘cause it’s not like you saw Eddie often when you were together. Plus studying for an ungodly amount of hours kept you busy, distracted. And after giving yourself an appropriate time to feel everything, there was honestly no more time for heartbreak.

That is until your birthday rolled around.

When you opened your eyes late morning, you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole — which in Hawkins was more than likely to happen. The last four birthdays were nothing short of perfect and now…

The nausea followed shortly after.

Your plan was to stay in bed all day, and it was going quite well since at six o’clock that evening you were glued to the same spot, until Robin barged into your room, Steve close on her heels, with a glass of water and a poorly decorated cake. Their singing gave you a headache, but you were still grateful for their attempt to make this day end on a better note.

“Now, go get your ass dressed,” Robin orders, glancing at Steve for his rehearsed words of encouragement.

He’s wide-eyed at first, nose buried in icing, but quickly nods at Robin’s words and looks in your direction.

“Y-yes, yes! We have an evening of fun planned!” Steve exclaims after swallowing a mouth full of vanilla cake.

Your roommates, however sweet they were trying to be, failed to realise the one place you really didn’t want to spend your birthday was The Hideout, and that’s exactly where they brought you.

The Hideout, presenting its usual lurking charm from the moment you stepped inside, was the one place in Hawkins you knew guaranteed an awkward bump-in with Eddie. Or maybe a needed interaction? Seeing him in his element could possibly bring some sort of closure after three months of no contact… No. No. Seeing him would only bring back the pain you tried real hard to bury.

A stench of old man sweat mixed with spilled booze hits your senses while you hurry closely behind Robin and Steve. In the dim light, your eyes are focused on the floor below, partially because you’re trying not to slip or trip over your own two feet, but mainly ‘cause you’re fearful of catching a glimpse of a certain head of wild brown locks. You only look up when the three of you approach a table closer to the back, away from most of the noise, and are greeted with hugs from Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle.

Settling yourself on one of the chairs, you exchange pleasantries with the rest of your friends while Steve orders a round of shots for the group. They all raise a toast to your health, their cheers attracting some attention in the process, but you don’t think anything of it, starting to instead feel glad you agreed to this.

“Birthday girl isn’t allowed to pay for her own drinks, got it?” Robin addresses the group and they all nod in unison. You wanna protest, but she swats at you from across the table before the words escape your lips. Her eyes saying that you need this, your eyes saying that you’re grateful she’s your friend. I know, Robin mouths as Jonathan takes everyone’s drink order.

Every shot you take, you chase with a rum and coke. The liquid burns down your throat. Third, fourth, fifth round down. You’re feeling buzzed, happy. Most importantly, no longer thinking of the boy that would normally also be hanging out with this group — blissfully unaware that he was actually watching your every move from the other side of the bar.

Eddie hadn’t initially planned on going out tonight. After a long day of working at the garage, then band practice right after, he really just wanted to smoke and fall asleep. As he got out of the shower however, instead of jumping into bed, he reached for a clean t-shirt. He couldn’t really explain why. It was stupid to think something inside of him was urging him to come to The Hideout tonight. He was wrecked beyond belief, yet his feet carried him here.

Then he heard it. Your name, followed by a mini-eruption of woohoos.

Head snapping in the direction of the sound, Eddie’s gaze found the source of the noise and then scanned the small group until he reached your relaxed frame. Christ, he thought, palms getting clammy. To say you looked gorgeous would be a vast understatement. And to say he didn’t realise just how much he missed you until this very moment would be nothing short of the truth.

Sure, after the breakup, Eddie found it hard to get through the day-to-day. Constantly distracted, thinking about you and second guessing the decision you both made. But then he reminded himself this was for the best, convinced himself that people can have more than one great love in their life, and things got easier.

There were days he hoped he’d accidentally run into you. At the store, out for coffee, or just wandering the streets of Hawkins. No such luck. When he started working at the shop to save some extra cash, he thought maybe you’d come in with your clunk of shit car since he was always telling you to get it looked at, but again, it never happened.

Three months passed like nothing.

Eddie would’ve never thought that today, your fucking birthday of all days, would be when he saw you next.

Cold beer in hand, he thought about walking up to the table you sat at with your mutual friends. And he was about to, but then you laughed at something Argyle said and the honey-like sound froze him in place. Clearly, you were having a good time. Eddie didn’t want to ruin that, so he opted for watching you like some fucking creep.

Four beers later, he’s still in the same spot.

Nancy takes over the jukebox duties. Billy Idol’s White Wedding starts to play as she pulls you to your feet, an excited squeal escaping her lips when you don’t protest. Swaying your hips to the music, you feel elated. Even more so when Robin joins in, singing along as Nancy twirls around the two of you. The boys clap, grinning like idiots, and you know you’re going to remember this moment forever, or at least until you unintentionally go over your drink limit and black out.

A smile tugs at the corners of Eddie’s lips as he continues to shamelessly stare at you. Carefree, is the word he’d use now to describe you and in all honesty, he hasn’t seen you like this in a while. Then his smile falters before it really fully appears ‘cause he finds himself wishing he was the reason for your current mood. Was ending things a mistake?

Mid-song, you spin and as you do, your eyes skim the bar, passing a set of curly hair. The air hitches in your throat as you double back. Just to make sure your drunken gaze wasn’t deceiving you, you tell yourself, but the reality is much different. Please be him, please be him, please be him…

When your eyes do lock with his, your tummy burns.

The copious amount of alcohol trifling through your veins right now gives you that extra push you need to start a short strut towards your ex-boyfriend. Someone’s arm is on you, attempting to pull you back slightly, but you don’t pay attention to it. Then you hear Steve say, “let her go, she needs this.”, and you’re free to continue your journey.

In a trance, gaze glued to Eddie’s chocolate one, you push through the people until you’re leaning against the bar he was sitting at, observing as his features turn from awe into something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Eddie greets nonchalantly, as if no time has passed, as if nothing has changed between the two of you.

So you follow in his footsteps, carefully hoisting yourself up on the stool next to his, bare knee brushing against his denim-clad one.

“Wanna order me a drink?”

Eddie smirks. “Straight to the point, as always.”

“Well, since it is my birthday, Robin said I’m not allowed to pay for my own poison,” you tell him, shrugging lightly, “So if you have a problem with that, you gotta take it up with her.”

He huffs out a laugh.

“I’d rather not go against Buckley.” And with that he orders a shot of tequila each.

When the small glasses are in front of you, accompanied by a lime wedge, he takes your hand without asking, then licks between your thumb and index finger, doe-eyes never leaving yours.

A shiver runs down your spine at the sudden contact and you try to play it cool, but in reality your heart is racing. Though Eddie doesn’t give you time to think about what he’s done with no warning, pouring salt in the spot he’s just salivated. He then hastily repeats the action on his own hand and pushes a shot glass in your direction.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

The toast is short and sweet. He raises the glass in front of his face as the words escape his lips, licks the salt off his own hand (which you’re a little disappointed in, unsurprisingly already missing the sensation that was his gentle touch), and downs the liquid in one go.

You quickly follow suit, not wanting to seem like he got you all flustered. But as the two of you sit and stare at one another while sucking on the lime wedges for a little longer than normal, you realise he’s just as rattled as you are — good.

“I hate tequila,” Eddie announces, discarding the wedge.

“I don’t mind it,” you say, wiping the corners of your mouth.

His gaze drops slightly, to where your finger presses against your puffy lips, and he bites down on his own rather shamelessly. There is a brief moment of silence in which Eddie thinks back to seconds before, when his tongue caressed your soft skin. He hates himself a little ‘cause he doesn’t wanna mess with your head, but fuck did that feel good. He’d like to do it again, if not more. Is that crazy?

And while you continue to look into his eyes, the butterflies in your stomach are going wild since you know exactly what he’s thinking. The only problem is you don’t know how to tell him because there’s so much else to be said first. Three months of catching up, to be precise, but did exes even do that?

“How about we get out of here?” Eddie offers, voice nothing short of a murmur.

You nod. Of course you nod. You’d go to the end of the world if he’d ask.

Before you know it, Eddie’s hand is on the small of your back, leading you through The Hideout crowd and out the front door. You don’t say goodbye to your friends, you can apologise tomorrow for leaving without a word. Instead, you inhale the fresh air, a wobble in your step as you turn to once again look at your ex-boyfriend.

“Where do you wanna go?”

Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in as close as he possibly can. He tilts his head to meet your gaze and smiles. A genuine smile.

“There’s this diner not far from here,” he answers simply and your heart swells. Then once again, tenfold, as he places a kiss to your crown before whispering in your ear, “Back to where it all started, pretty girl.”.

as always, thank you for reading! pls don't hesitate to reblog & tell me what you think - ily!

eddie munson masterlist | main masterlist

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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emmyrosee · 2 years ago

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hiya emmy :D i was reading ur dad aus, and i thought ‘what if emmy wrote older sibling aus?’ and i wanted to request one :) somehow im a complete softie for ur bakugou, so i wanted to request an older brother bakugou who ten years older than his lil sis, and she absolutely adores him. i think shed be like ‘katsu-nī’ all the time, and be around five? six? when he gets into UA. idk why but im imagining him calling her ‘kid’ or ‘brat(in a nice way, u know?)’ and when hes rlly soft, maybe ‘sweetheart’ when she has nightmares? and maybe when he gets captured, shes so scared that she cant sleep well, and after he comes back, she begs to sleep with him, and mama mitsuki finds her kids sleeping together during the night, with bakugous lil sis clinging to him like her life depends on it and bakugou having an arm around her. and maybe when she was younger, shed enter bakugous room randomly, and sit on his lap while he does hw or study? and shed have all kinds of nicknames for his friends, for instance, she likes to call midoriya ‘zuku-nī’ and kirishima ‘aka-nī’ cuz he had red hair and calls the rest of them by their first names and ‘san’ at the end :) thx for listening to my rant and i hope ur having a good day, and u stay healthy :)

-sky :D

WAIT NO THIS IS ACTUALLY LIKE. REALLY REALLY CUTE-

Because like. Yeah, the last thing the boy needs in his life is a new sibling, he needs that like he needs a UTI.

But then she comes along and he’s like… like he’s obsessed with her.

He tries to hide it under indifference, he doesn’t really care that there’s gonna be a new, tiny presence in his home, he’s got enough to take care of.

That is, until Bakugou Kaida comes into this world.

Until the smallest, sweetest bundle of pink blankets is passed into his arms and it’s then and only then he realizes that he’s doomed, because this kid was going to absolutely have him wrapped around her finger, and come hell or high water, he’d keep her the happiest little brat to walk the face of the earth.

And he is sure to have her grow up with that knowledge.

One time, when she was three, someone pushed her on the playground, and Katsuki nearly punted a four year old- he, instead, told her how to push back (which wasn’t appreciated by his parents) and stand her ground.

However, said ‘happiest brat mantra,’ she knows exactly how to make it curve him for her benefit.

When he’s left to babysit her, she flashes him her biggest set of puppy eyes to make him play with her; his parents have come home god knows how many times to him with a table cloth draped over his back, playing Horsies- she does it more when Midoriya is the horse, because he can’t say no to her either, but anytime she says “Zuku-ni would do it” to Katsuki, he immediately drops on his hands and knees with a snarl on his mouth. Like hell he’s gonna let Midoriya win her heart like that.

And listen, the kid is cute, and she’s got that classic Bakugou charm. She knows how to work it! But Katsuki can’t help the absolute rage down his spine when she’s got her tiny arms curled around Kirishima’s thick neck and they tease him about when they’re gonna get married because yeah, of course, she wants to marry his friends, because why can’t she be disgusted by them like he is?

(”Yeah, bakubro, you’re cool being my best man for it, right?”

“I’d rather skin you alive and drape you over my banister before I let you come near her with a ring pop, do not test me-”)

But obviously, no matter what, for Kaida’s happiness, Katsuki is willing to move boulders, move mountains, part seas, and swallow the stars if it meant she would smile for him.

So, when he gets taken by the LOV, it’s wild how much Kaida deflates. Mitsuki catches her, more times than not, curled up on his bed to sleep for her nap, and at nighttime, she stares longingly outside of her window to wait for him. They try to be gentle and explain that he’ll be back soon, but she doesn’t believe them, she wants to see it with her own eyes.

They put her back to bed, but she’s up a few hours later, perched at her window and whimpering softly. They try to keep her in their bed, but all she does is ask questions about Katsuki until the early hours of the morning, things they don’t always know the answer to.

Those were the longest days of her little life, and when they finally get the call that he’s alright, he’s alive, it’s an extremely tearful reunion. And Katsuki, the hellion and wall of impenetrable rage, screws his eyes shut to fight the stabbing of tears that want to fall into her hair.

Kaida absolutely refuses to let him out of her sight after that.

The entire time they’re talking to the school, her big, crimson eyes are blinking up at him, tiny fingers curled in his shirt collar. Completely unfazed by the snapping between her parents and brother, she just. Stares. She doesn’t smile, she doesn’t frown, she doesn’t pout. It’s just a simple, blank face with all her emotions and relief in her eyes.

Even after the whole ordeal, there’s a part of Kaida that treasures Katsuki (somehow) even more. Anytime he’s home, she’s clinging to him, be it physically by dangling to his back and legs, or simply being in the same room with him: next to him at the dinner table, sleeping on his bed while he’s at his desk, playing with his fingers while he watches tv.

He’d be annoyed by it if she wasn’t so cute.

If he didn’t miss her almost as much as she missed him.

It’s different when he’s away at school and can call her whenever he wants; he hates how much he loves the little snot.

Even now, curled into his side and sucking her thumb while they watch TV, Katsuki knows that if he gets up to merely pee, she’s gonna follow him and sit on the outside of the door, talking to him under the door. (The first time Deku saw that in action, he cooed audibly, and Katsuki nearly ran out of the can with his pants undone to blow him to shit.) and he’d never be able to complain about it.

Sometimes, he can’t help but putting off whatever it is he needs to do, to keep her comfy.

It’s what big brothers do.

“Katsu-ni?” She hums around her thumb. Big eyes look up at him, and he scratched her hair gently.

“What’s up?”

She pauses, as if trying to find the words, her tiny brows furrowed in thought. Then, she speaks, words warbled from the digit in her mouth.

“You think mumma gon’ notice if I go back ta’ school wiff you? In your back-packie?”

He snorts and tightens his arm around her, burrowing his face in her hair to hide the sound. She squeals and bats him away affectionately, completely crawling in his lap when she deems he’s too far from her.

“I think she might, stink.”

Kaida pouts and thunks her head against his chest, the fingers of her free hand fisting his collar. “Do ya have to go…?”

“You know I do,” he grumbles, hooking a lock of hair behind her ear, once again burying his face in her hair. The only noise for a moment comes from the TV, and he focuses on the rhythmic breathing from his little brat.

“You don’t have to think about that for a few more days,” he says, planting a kiss to her head and choosing to fight the way his eyes water when she sniffles softly. “You can use me as a jungle gym for a few more days.”

This, has her giggling, and he angles his head up at the ceiling because this is always the hardest part about being home, especially since he was kidnapped.

“I don’t like when you leave, Katsu-ni,” she mumbles.

“I know, baby.”

“Make me miss you…”

“I know- you know I miss you too.”

“Wish you didn’t have to keep goin’ ‘way…”

He swallows again.

“I know.”

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fandomfluffandfuck · 1 year ago

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As a smut writer with a vagina, I always struggle a bit to explore the sensations that penis-havers experience during arousal. I know what’s getting hard looks like, but not what it feels like internally.

Combining my research and, echem, other needs, a writing prompt: Steve explaining to a formerly chemically castrated recovering Bucky what getting hard feels like, and how to recognize arousal. What it feels like when he wants him. Reminding Bucky of those feelings and talking him into his first erection in 70 years.

Ah jeeze, I sent that writing request for Steve explaining to Bucky what it feels like to get hard and I just realized how completely invasive and assuming some of that ask was. I really apologize.

You're okay! That's a fair question/request, and this is the place to come with it, lol.

First, though, I do have to say that, coming from my personal experience, the way smut writers without dicks (as far as I'm aware, lol) describe dicks and erections is usually pretty on the money. It's hot [temperature wise]. It's throbbing. It's tight and, well, hard. It's also often annoying when an erection just... happens. Because it happens randomly, too. It's not just a teenage thing, unfortunately, lol. (I mean, it's (usually) not a full erection like it can be in teendom, but it's still a thing as you get older.)

Second, I could've sworn I read a fic where Bucky was castrated surgerically and was struggling with arousal/erections but I can't find it again :/

Okay, onto this prompt:

*trigger warning for off screen, insinuated HYDRA Trash Party/HYDRA typical violence

This would be a fucking challenge for them. Not only because recovery is tough--recovery from anything--but especially recovery from 70 fucking years of brainwashing and torture.

Also, this is challenging because Steve very much is also deprogramming from his own trauma as well as struggling with his Catholic upbringing. That shame runs deep. Steve is very, very good at feeling shame and guilt.

When Bucky presents him with the question of, "what is it like?" As they're discussing the reversal effects, returning libidos, and coming off of the chemical castration drugs, pamphlets spread out messily over the kitchen island counter, Steve is absolutely tongue-tied. He stammers and blushes and squirms in his kitchen bar stool.

Bucky, in contrast, is sitting still. His voice is even. Fine. "Getting an erection," he clarifies without issue, "what does it feel like?" There's a crease between his dark eyebrows. It's the look he gets when he's thinking, specifically, when he's trying to remember something that's fuzzy--just out of reach and slipping from between his fingers more and more by the second.

Steve isn't sure if that tone of voice and the neutrality is Bucky being Bucky--he never had much shame before. Before... all of this. He always was a flirt, a charmer. As soon as he had an experience, when they were old enough, he told Steve things about girls that Steve felt like would cause God to open hell directly underneath them. Earth gaping. Swallowing them whole. He couldn't ever explain why he stuttered out the words to ask again and again and again, though. He knew he didn't care about the gals. He didn't... he doesn't like women that way.

It was about Bucky.

It's always been about Bucky.

Or... if it's maybe something that was burned out of Bucky by them? HYDRA. Steve desperately hopes it's not that. He wants the fact that he's fine discussing such private matters because he's always been that way (maybe with a tiny mix of being too old and seasoned to give a shit).

Right now, Bucky and him are perfect opposites.

Bucky is easily getting the words out, asking for some from Steve in exchange. Meanwhile, Steve can't get say a word, no matter how loud and clear Bucky is.

It's not that Steve doesn't want to have this conversation with Bucky. He wants to give Bucky every tool he needs to help aid him in recovery; he wants to be honest with him; he wants to open himself to Bucky like a book so he can read and glean what he needs from him. It's so fucking difficult, though.

Bucky's doctors warn Steve and Bucky both what coming off of the drugs causing his chemical castration will mean. A surge in sex hormones as his body resumes doing what it should, resulting in a, hopeful, return of his libido and physical sexual functioning along with possible hot flashes, racing heart, and a handful of other assorted side effects. A roll of the dice. They won't totally know until they get there.

Chemical castration isn't permanent, usually. But, usually, people aren't chemically castrated for 70 fucking years. Also, usually, the people in question aren't super soldiers. So, there's things working against Bucky and with him.

Bucky's body should bounce back.

Steve closes his eyes for too long to just be a blink, picturing the scars around Bucky's shoulder. Flesh seared to metal. No choice but to adapt.

Bucky's body should bounce back.

"Good as new," one of the medical students working in tandem with the team of doctors had said. Steve thinks that student could use more bedside manner training.

"Steve?"

"Uh--" Steve clears his throat, "yeah. It's..."

"You don't have to."

Steve nods tightly, "I want to. I just." He swallows noisily, he figures he'll just be as honest as he can, "I don't know how to say it," he runs his fingers through his hair, musing it.

Bucky nods back. After a moment he volunteers, "I remember getting them, I just..."

"You just?" Steve prompts, leaning forward to grab his hand and squeeze.

"I don't remember anything else. I got them. Didn't I?" Bucky looks at his wearily.

"You definitely did," Steve's voice is huskier than he intends. He can't help it. A full-body shiver takes over his muscles. He remembers Bucky's erections almost as much as he remembers his own.

Sharing the same tiny, ratty-sheet-covered bed. Bucky pressed up against his back, his breath hot and humid on his neck, an arm thrown around his waist, with his dick regularly hardening in his sleep and pressing even more insistently against his boney ass.

Wrestling on their shitty, creaking wooden floor. Bucky on top of him, laughing brilliantly. Dark hair falling from its careful, swept-up style. Leaning up to kiss him to distract him, the only way he could win. Kissing and kissing until Bucky would melt, groaning, falling onto him, chest to chest, their erections sliding together. Hard. Hot.

Listening to Bucky stumble in drunk and smiling to himself, stifling the expression in the flat pillow under his head, pretending to sleep until Bucky stumbles into their bed. Then, pretending to wake up slowly and prettily as Bucky pawed at him. Sometimes, Bucky'd be hard already. Sometimes, he would get hard deliciously slowly, the alcohol affecting him, making it a challenge. And sometimes he wouldn't get hard if he had too much.

(Steve secretly loved it when he didn't get hard. Soft and vulnerable and perfect for worshipping. Steve would fall to his knees and rub his face against his soft cock and suck and suck until Bucky came without getting hard at all. It still felt good. Steve should know. It's not like his Johnson worked all the time back then, anyway.)

Steve jostles himself from the memories, trying, only half-successfully, to not feel guilty over the fact that he can remember all that with perfect eidetic detail while Bucky can't.

He re-crosses his legs in the other direction.

"Okay," Steve tries to push his energy from memories to words, "okay. It's, like, it... it almost feels like." God, why does he suck so much at this? "Like, it-it's blood rushing into your dick, right?"

Bucky has the gall to roll his eyes.

Steve wants to call him an asshole. And he would if he weren't too busy untangling his words, trying to spit them out no matter how much shame tugs at him. "So it's swollen. It gets hot, too, because, well, your, your blood is hot. Body temperature. Y'know. Whatever. It's... just... swollen and hot and, uh, stiff?"

"It is a stiffy," Bucky says dryly.

Steve dryly laughs, "jerk," he bites his lower lip, clearly that's not enough to satisfy Bucky's curiosity, "you know, so, okay, you know when you finish in the gym and your muscles are just beginning to get sore? Like. It doesn't hurt. But your muscles are tight and pumped and hard because you just used them?"

"I'm familiar." Steve's pretty sure Bucky's being an asshole on purpose now. Just to give him something else to think about. Fucker.

"It's like that," he finishes the thought, "but. It's your dick, not your usual muscles."

"So... does it get sore? Like your muscles?"

"No." Steve answers automatically, then, "it, uh, throbs. Pulses, kinda. I mean, it, it can hurt. If you have it for a long time."

"Right," there's a minute pause. Steve knows without asking that they're both picturing all the goofy pharma ads that're on TV nowadays. Contact your doctor if you have an erection lasting more than 4 hours... "You said it's tight?"

"Yeah. Tight and heavy, too. 'Cause, because it fills with blood. It gets engorged. Swollen."

Bucky nods, but it's clear he wants more.

"Yeah," Steve struggles, his face burning. "Kinda, kinda, like..." he pulls a face just thinking about the way he's about to describe an erection. It's visceral. It makes him want to squirm a little bit. But, it's the only thing he can think of. "If you stuck a balloon under your skin and started to inflate it. It gets tight and hot and stiff as it stretches. And the more the, the, uh, balloon inflates, the more sensitive it gets--"

Bucky makes a considering noise.

"--But then. Then, once you've started, it's hard to stop. It gets fuller, stiffer, and more sensitive. When you touch it, because it's sensitive and tight and you need to do something about it, it gets stiffer and then more sensitive because it's stiffer. So you touch more. Until. Yeah. It's, uh, it's a positive feedback loop."

"Oh."

Suddenly, as happens sometimes, Steve's mouth runs away from him. He's embarrassed, and his brain decides that the only way to fix it is to get all the embarrassing words out. "It throbs. Like. With your pulse. If you get. If you get hard enough, it th-throbs with your pulse. And it feels like it comes from your, like, core. Like. Not just your balls. Inside you."

"Hm?" Bucky interjects, eyebrows drawing together.

"Like, when you get, ah, a-aroused. It comes from your stomach almost. And it goes up your back and down your balls, too. It's, it's not tingling but, more, more like when you really have to pee and you can't help but shiver. A much hot, hotter version of that."

"You-" Bucky's eyebrows come together. "You can't pee when you're erect, right?"

"No, no. It--that does hurt. It kinda burns? If you try to pee with a hard, hard--if you try to pee with an erection. It doesn't work like that."

"No," Bucky agrees softly.

"But it doesn't burn otherwise. It, it when you're really hard, feels like, like you might explode. It gets so tight and, I'm trying to think of anything but hard, but it really just feels hard."

Bucky snorts.

Steve's big mouth keeps motoring, of course, "oh, and, uh, it gets wet." Steve is going to explode, not in the fun my-dick-is-hard way, in the vibrating-with-embarrassment way. Oof.

Bucky just looks intrigued. Not embarrassed.

Dammnit.

"I, I, I don't mean," Steve lowers his voice, "cum."

Bucky laughs at his expense.

"I mean... when you're erect. It can leak. It's just pre-cum. It's not. It's nothing to be worried about. Just so you don't--" he bites the inside of his cheek, "I don't want you to worry."

Bucky tips his head from side to side, considering. "What if I--"

"What if you?"

"What if I let you know when it happens? So you know I'm not worried."

Steve flushes the hottest he has yet. He coughs. "Y-yeah, that'd be, that'd be... good."

I hope that's satisfactory for what you had in mind! I didn't really know how to tackle this prompt, lol.

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #htp #hydra trash party #it's off screen but i figured it be good to include that tag anyway #for the people filtering it

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