LET'S GET READY TO KINK MEEEEEME!
Golden Rule of the Kink Meme:
If you make a request, also try to fill a request.
Post format: Character/Pairing + Kink/Prompt in subject line, description in comment body
Be civil, love your fillers, and post ONE REQUEST PER POST.
I WILL BE DELETING ALL "SECOND" OR CLAIMING COMMENTS AFTER A FILL IS POSTED FOR THAT PROMPT. This is in order to put the ( Read more... )
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On his tenth birthday, she picked him up from school. She’d been shopping, she said.
But she looked horrible, hair frazzled and eyes sunken deep. Ringed with red. The lines around her eyes were deepening.
When they returned home Shiori pulled several bags from the backseat of the car, carried them up to his room and set them on Kurama bed, knelt at the base and looked around his room. Her eyes were wet with barely restrained tears. Kurama stood by as she sniffed and pulled the bags toward her, dug into them and pulled out tiny blouses and skirts. Cute socks and boots. Dresses and hairpins.
She set them on the floor before them. Shiori stared.
Hands shaking, her handbag slipped from her shoulder, fell to the floor, taking her cardigan off one shoulder as it did. She didn’t fix herself, instead pulled her hand from the strap of her sweater and smoothed out the shirts set before her in a slightly messy pile. Arranges the boots into a straight line.
She looked up to him and smiled. “Help me,” she said, and pointed to the pile of panties and training bras.
Kurama swallowed thickly. “Okay,” he said. If this would make her happy, just like her hair, then he would. He unbuttoned his school jacket and let it slide to the floor by his school bag. His shirt and shorts went next. Socks and underwear too until he was standing before her naked.
She held out a pair of pink panties, slipping her fingers into the holes and holding them open for him to step into. He placed his hands on her shoulders as he stepped in, and she pulled the cotton up his thighs slowly. Ran a hand down his thigh once they were settled.
The pink dress was next. It was framed in green and black, had frills and straps for his arms to go through. Shirori helped him put that on too, showing him where to put his arms. When it settled and she tugged at the skirt of the dress, smoothed her hand over his chest to be sure it settled right, he looked at her and saw a glint of hope. His heart lifted.
“Can you do my hair while I put on the socks?” he asked, tilting his head at her.
She laughed a little and smiled. “Of course, my darling baby.”
He picked up the Hello Kitty socks and sat before her, pulled them onto his feet one by one as she scooped up his hair, ran her hands through it a few times before she tied it up in little piggy tails. Once they were done he sat while she ran her fingers through his hair a while longer and eventually bent over him, hugged him loosely.
“I’m so happy,” she said softly.
“Then I am too,” he said, staring out the window.
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He was leaning against the counter one afternoon, tea before him, reading about the potential high schools, Shiori sat beside him. “So,” she said, pulling the hem of his skirt down a little. “I was thinking about moving us to Kyoto.”
He looked over to her, blinking. “Why?” he asked, curious. He straightened a little, sat in the chair beside his mother.
She didn’t pause before answering, running a hand down his leg between his skirt and where the sock came up high on his thigh. “This place,” she said, and then looked in the direction of the stairs, eyes haunted. “This place, it has so many memories...”
He smiled gently, stood straight and brushed her hair from his face, kissed her forehead, her eyelids and then gave her a light, quick peck on the lips. “Okay,” he said.
He told his friends the next day, and they were sad, but most were going to different high schools anyway. They wished him well.
They moved within a month.
Shirori had wanted another house, but it wouldn’t have been prudent, so they moved into an apartment. Here, Kurama discovered the true reason why she’d wanted to move. She wanted to send him to an all-girls school, have him dress like a young lady all the time.
He wasn’t, at first, sure how to react to it.
She hadn’t said anything, of course, merely set a pamphlet to the school on his bed, gave him strange, sad and yet frustrated look when she saw him in male clothes. Sometimes he’d notice his boxers had developed a sudden tear or rip, and he’d gain a new set of panties. Instances like that continues.
This night he sat before the mirror in his room, getting ready for bed. His white blouse went first, slipped over his head and set aside to be hung up later. That left him shirtless in a pleated skirt and high stockings, with his long hair and flat chest.
He brought his hands up, splayed his fingers wide over his chest, rubbed at his nipples until they peaked. He swallowed thickly, ran a hand through black hair as he looked over to his bag. It was partway open, held a packet of bleach and a bottle of peroxide. A tube of red hair dye.
He was hard, and for a second he didn’t know what to do with it but lay on his back and stare at the bulge beneath his skirt. Then he noted the mirror.
Pulled his knees up, spread his legs. He could see the bulge of his balls in his pink lacy panties. He pulled the hem of his dark skirt up, settled it on his waist as he raised his head. His cock strained against the material, a damp little spot at the tip. Growing.
He swallowed thickly.
He’d never touched himself before. Felt like, to please his mother, he couldn’t. But he was hard, and it ached. His hormones were bouncing off the walls after all, being sixteen. He brought a hand to his balls, cupped them with his fingers through his underwear, squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed and rubbed at them lightly. His dick twitched.
Moaned and brought his legs together, demure, feet pointed like a ballerina’s. His socks tugged and slipped at his thighs as he rubbed them together, brought his fingertips to his cock, pressed and rubbed. Writhed on the soft carpet of his bedroom floor.
“Mhnnn...”
Jerked and arched his back when he ran fingers over the head of his cock, slipped his hand beneath the pink material and stroked himself lightly with his fingertips. It hurt a little. Chaffed. He was sore. He explored.
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