oh_darling: (Default)
An old kink meme I did, back when I was using my other (messy) account here. I finally got around to claiming it, and so while I was at it, I thought, oh hey. Maybe people would care to see it?

Title: Validation
Fandom: Naruto
Prompt: "Gently kissing scars, slight hurt/comfort. The set-up material is Naruto secretly watching (and possibly masturbating to) Sasuke undressing in a bathhouse. Include shower sex, feeling exposed, and markers of arousal."
Pairing: Sasuke x Naruto x Sasuke
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Naruto. I've only borrowed Misashi Kishimoto's characters to make you hot and bothered, hopefully.

It's still porn-filled, rest assured. 8D
So all's right with the world.
Not marked as adult because you don't HAVE to click the link.
You just want to.


Love,
living it

Post Script -- Finally getting in touch with everyone. <3
Also, any thoughts? Comment here, as over there it's all anonymous and I'll be all "lolwhutusay," haha. 
oh_darling: (battlefield)
I told you the whole NARNIA slash thing would catch up to me.
*needed the feeblest of excuses* 

- icon by [profile] honey_marmalade
- tagged by me as (13, battlefield), which sort of later triggered a whole lot

Oops, I made this a bit too dramatic. I stupidly supposed that the scene in this icon came from the second movie because they were wearing that sort of armour. But um, I liked the mood so it’ll have to stay anyway. Pretend this scene happened in the second movie, please? [/fail]
Written for [profile] gogothgirl ’s icon-fic challenge. The original post can be found here. I went with the movie-verse here because it seemed to suit my purposes a bit better…
I almost couldn’t resist putting this in, but it totally would ruin the mood so it’s up here for your humour.
“Gods, Peter, Edmund! Could you two please move this drama to the living room? I’ve been trying to get to the pantry for an hour now!” (said by Susan, who has an important school project to do but no materials)


title: incommunicado
author: [profile] bloodred0_4 
fandom: Chronicles of Narnia (movie-verse)
pair: Edmund/Peter/Edmund
words: 520, shortest thing I've ever written
rating: PG13 (implications, and of course the fact that the pairing is incestuous)


Love,
*inspired*

Post Script -- Thoughts, anyone? If you're confused do ask and I'll clarify. The day Peter's referring to is our fictional transplanted battle scene where when Edmund revives, Peter's holding him close... but it takes place in the second movie. -___-;
I'm more concerned with thoughts on the moods and portrayal though.
oh_darling: (oofuri)

Spontaneous posting of my own work on one of my own themes? Gah. >____>


Neat Information:
Title: three things
Author: [livejournal.com profile] bloodred0_4 
Fandom: Ookiku Furikabutte (OOFURI)
Prompt: #86 -- "Kiss Me With Your Eyes Closed"
Pairing: Tajima x Hanai (x Tajima?)
Rating: PG13 for one certain expletive, otherwise G / PG
Disclaimer: I don't own or claim to own Ookiku Furikabutte.

Messy Information:
prompt:
- #86. "Kiss Me with Your Eyes Closed"
LIST HERE.

additional prompt(s) // notes:
- a "serious" tajima ( for [livejournal.com profile] pukiban )
[-tajihana, self plz?]
a miniature blend of innumerable oofuri ficlet ideas that failed to stand alone
rated PG13 for one certain expletive (otherwise G / PG)
angst/fluff/romance

--
--
three things

--
--
It’s the bottom of the eighth inning and he’s crouched down low, bent slightly forward at the waist, set up a ways back from the strikezone. There’s a runner on third, and the two of them are breathing hard as one. His eyes are a deep russet colour now, fierce and unflinching and positively dead-center upon the face of the enemy, searching for something he can’t quite name yet. He doesn’t miss a beat as the pitch comes hurtling closer, inhaling steadily and then shoving it all out in one forceful gasp as he moves in to swing—a fastball high and outside that was rather difficult to connect with properly, he later recalls for the victory entourage.

The truth is, all he ever remembers of being on the field is pure exhilaration and the feeling of assurance rushing throughout his body. He hears the adrenaline as it courses through his veins, his heart as it threatens to burst from his ribcage, and especially the blood as it floods past his ears back into his brain when he finally starts breathing again on first base. Every time he goes to grasp the bat, white-knuckled, squatting down in the chalk circle to watch his teammates and then to come through for them, he’s burning up. He’s a little delirious each time but his intuition rarely fails and he’s never had a happier collection of minutes. 

When he comes down from wherever it is he goes on days like this, having been grinning and moving and hugging and congratulating on autopilot, there’s a hand on his shoulder. Its faint chill bleeds through the dusty uniform but he refuses to move away. He knows just who it is and what it all means. That same familiar, honeyed voice is going on and on and on but he isn’t getting any noise save static. So he turns slightly to his right, on the verge of tilting his head and peering up through his lashes like usual, about to crack a joke or maybe even return the affection with a tight squeeze if he’s any bolder today. 

What happens instead is this: "Hanai, kiss me with your eyes closed." 

He’s actually a very cowardly person by nature when it comes down to life outside the diamond, because he likes to brush away his problems and ignore the negatives that go along with a boisterous personality like his. He doesn’t like to be told what to do—even if it’s what’s best and he’ll probably wind up doing it later anyway. He’s lazy. He’s clingy and unapologetic. He’s not as cool or amazing or brave or as anything as anyone thinks he is. And although he’s made it plenty clear enough before, everyone needs a reminder or two every now and then—therefore, on that note, he’s rarely ever serious. 

It’s always said with a smile, or as a joke, or played off lightly when he speaks. He’s never raw with his words—he may be crazy but he isn’t an open book, for sure. Until now. 

The haphazard arm slung across his torso is limp and like ice. 

This is what he’s been waiting for. 

There are three things he loves in this world and will never ever make light of—perhaps he shouldn’t admit to it now, as it’s kind of embarrassing for a guy like him to say—and of those three things, only one really really counts. The first thing is baseball. This is a sport of determination and sweat and hard work and the great outdoors and a place where no man can stand alone. It’s home to him, and he is enamoured with everything about it. 

"Hanai?" He prompts again, still facing forward, face plain and ordinary but not taken over by laughter either. His eyes are glued to the night sky preceding the lot of them for a lingering moment before he screws them shut tightly then opens them again. The jeers and yells and clapping of the team have long since faded away for him, but he won’t turn his head. 

The second thing is companionship. If there’s one thing he can’t stand, it’s being alone, and so he takes this very seriously, whether it’s dragging a flabbergasted Mihashi back into the dugout, screaming out compliments to the batter, or slapping a lonely soul on the back. Things may spew from his lips spontaneously, but everything is meant well and nothing ever goes to waste when he puts his full power into it. 

"I want you," Tajima half-whispers, half-grits through his teeth, "to kiss me…" 

Honestly, this is much more awkward than he expected. So much for rehearsing this in front of his bathroom mirror. It’s a metaphorical bomb he had thought to deliver casually, making sure that Hanai would never know the effect of its shrapnel should he say no. But his voice has already broken twice and his fingers are trembling uncontrollably in fists at his sides. He knows why he’s having so much trouble here and now, and the problem isn’t really a problem but a sickening anticipation of what’s to come. Hanai’s reaction is one thing he can’t predict, no matter how long he thinks about it or studies the person or scripts it out in his head. He’s in the midst of tossing together a few of those handy ‘apology’ phrases in his head—"sorry-my-mistake-won’t-happen-again-fuck-totally-forget-it"—when the feather-soft pressure on the corner of his mouth catches his attention at last. 

"With my eyes closed, right?" 

"Y-Yeah."

And the third thing is Hanai, because Hanai is both of those things and so much more.
--
-- 

Thoughts?
(the more personal style of narration was intentional)

here is the deepest secret nobody knows...
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

January 2012

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