#because that black eye was spectacular
Have you seen some of the discourse about Chim punching Buck? I remember you talking about the shove between TK and Carlos so I was wondering your thoughts on the situation.
I have Nonnie and my stance remains the same. You do not put your hands on someone you love in anger. Period. Just like with TK, it doesn’t make Chim evil. It makes what happened a mistake and I hope it is a mistake that gets addressed.
I know some people are saying Buck fucked up and all that but to be honest, he didn’t. He did what his sister asked him to do and did what he always does when it comes to Maddie which is put himself in the middle to stand between her and whatever she’s struggling with. I just don’t think Maddie and Buck have ever considered the possibility of what it would be like if Buck did that and faced someone who actually gave a shit about them.
Chim was also incredibly hurt and making that mistake doesn’t negate that hurt.
Chim being deeply hurt and upset and Chim not being entitled to punching someone are two statements that can coexist.
I would implore the people trying to justify the punch to swap the characters in that position. You all would be rightfully upset if Buck had punched Chimney and even more so if people dismissed those feelings by saying everyone is “coddling Chimney”.
Also the whole “he’s a big boy who can handle a black eye” are teetering dangerously close to toxic masculinity and victim blaming territory so let’s just all take a beat and breathe.
The feelings between Buck and Chimney were running hot. The punch was not okay. The punch does not make Chimney an evil monster. The whole thing should and hopefully will be addressed.
But Nonnie you can’t control what other people think and feel (especially through a computer screen). You can only control yourself and how you conduct yourself in these discussions.
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people are sooo weird about groomed poodles they’re like “yeah only annoying rich pretentious people style their poodles like that” you’re telling me you wouldn’t customize your dog if you got a poodle?? your dog would look like a bland human skyrim default man and my dog would look like an electric blue lizard man with a mullet. my dog might HAVE a mullet. unless my hypothetical pre-pet research indicated it was unwise for the pets health somehow that bitch would get a new haircut every time it grew back out and it would be BRIGHT PINK (radish water babes, as long as it isn’t allergic you can dye any white animal you like pink unless it can’t get wet like rabbit chinchilla etc just dab someone on and magic pink pet just be smart about it and have water and radishes) i’m poor as fuck i’ll do it with kitchen scissors like i do my own hair lol (also my big sis cuts it with a knife sometimes and it makes it a cool texture that styles really well but i wouldn’t use a knife on a dog cuz they move around a lot i don’t trust that bitch to stay still i’m not even allowed 2 use them on myself much less a wigglebeast LOL) like if i ever got a poodle they would have to classify her a traffic hazard. neon green collar ultramarine leash dog sunglasses if she likes them. it would be sick. you guys just aren’t Enlightened like me and you let rich people ruin things for you. they can’t steal CustomDog from me. people are gonna be like “what the fuck is that” when i walk around with my awful triangle dog and i’m gonna love it. this was just me complaining about a cool idea getting passed up and now i kinda want a poodle 🤔🤔🤔
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Modern AU headcanons - Kazuha as your gardener
Pairing: Kazuha x gn reader
Kazuha knows a lot of things. He knows how to expertly weed the lawn so that it looks like the most beautiful grassy carpet. He knows the life cycle of a wide variety of plants and, like a flower-whisperer, can make them bloom against all the odds. Perceptive and exceptionally intuitive, Kazuha recognizes the subtle changes of weather and tends to the garden accordingly, not once allowing it to ruin his crops.
He knows it all, and some time ago was more than happy to accept the position of your parents’ gardener. The previous candidates didn’t live up to expectations, miserably failing at managing the vastly spreading acres of green land. Kazuha, however, has breathed life into the withering greenery, gloriously transforming it into a lush landscape, spectacular in its splendour. One could wonder how such small and delicate hands could achieve all of that.
When praised by your parents, Kazuha would just smile coyly, the typical for him soft and charming little quirk to his lips.
„Ma’am, there’s no need for all of that. I’m just doing my job.” He replies courtly, bending in half in front of your smitten mum.
Despite all that talent and mastery of his craft, he doesn’t comprehend why the sole thing that his enraptured with you brain manages to conjure up is the fantasy of you being pounded to the ground with the precise snap of his hips. Eyes welling fuller and fuller as he delivers sparks of pleasure with the rhythmical pumps of his dick into you. He likes to imagine that you would beg. Beg and beg because Kazuha wants to overstimulate you. He wants to experience how you fall apart around his cock again and again, till your vision goes black, toes curl and then he repeats the whole process. Step by step like how he sees to his plants, orgasms grow inside of you. Surely the prettiest flower he would ever make to blossom. Even if only in his imagination.
Kazuha accepts that he is admittedly the worst at controlling himself when you are just a few bushes away, lying on the sunbed. Your exposed skin, the drops of sweat trickling down your neck to your chest, sometimes even lower. But he doesn’t dare to let his eyes wander that far. It’s already hard as it is. He’s not sure if the dungarees he’s wearing could conceal his obscene secret.
He steals another quick look and, with a galloping heart, catches you staring at him. Not for the first time, either. Sheepishly, like a small kid found with stolen candy, your eyes dart away. It’s a recurrent scene, the one that Kazuha has memorised through and through. Yet, each time it replays before him he ends up swallowing hard and awkwardly shifting his position to alleviate the twitch of his dick.
It’s wrong. This primal desire goes against his sense of good taste, but try as he might he can’t help it. He would love to get down and dirty with you, as he does with the sprouts flourishing at his feet.
It doesn’t make it easier for him that he’s heard about the existence of your boyfriend. The rumour itself is nasty enough to kill any of his boners. But if that’s the case, why hasn’t he seen him around at all? Is this man stupid?
If Kazuha had the privilege of calling you his own, he would hold onto you like an Onikabuto to a tree. He would hear you cry out his name, have you drift between waves of pleasure till you can’t tell a difference between the end of one orgasm and the beginning of another. He would corner you, push you against the wall of the shed in your parent’s obnoxiously big garden and fuck you. He would absolutely ravage you, till you can’t take him anymore and helplessly kick your feet in the air as he holds you up, plunging in and out. He woul--
„A-hhem, Kazuha? I brought you some lemonade.”
You clear your throat, trapped by the emotion stirring in Kazuha’s red pools.
The gardener pushes these lewd thoughts away like it’s the dirty soil he’s removing by shaking it off his delicate hands.
„Thank you. I’m dying of thirst.”
He admits, thankfully collecting the glass from your shaky hand. His fingers are wet and rather cold. The simple touch leaves you stunned.
Kazuha gulps it down greedily, with a soft moan of satisfaction gracing your red from embarrassment ears. He closes his eyes, long lashes beautifully resting on his cheeks. You know you’re staring again and there is nothing you can do to stop. The white t-shirt clings to his sweaty chest and biceps. You only wish that his dungarees didn’t cover that much of his torso. Done drinking, he wipes his face with the back of his hand.
„D-did you like it?”
You stutter, hesitantly reaching for the glass cupped in his bandaged hand. He’s once told you that he had burnt himself while helping his friend. You didn’t want to pry for details. Nevertheless, ever since you’ve been fantasizing about tracing the scars with your lips. Among many other things that you would gladly put your lips on. He doesn’t immediately let go of the empty glass, deliberately prolonging the contact of your hands. His orbs magnetically pull yours, demanding undivided attention.
Kazuha feels hypnotised by your presence. Why is it that you always have to act so cutely around him? Subtle smiles, playing with the strands of your hair or innocently nudging him with your elbow when he says something that you for some reason find funny.
You’ve been parading around him wearing nothing but your skimpy swimwear. Each day relaxing on that sunbed right across his crouched figure, making Kazuha confuse rakes with a shovel. He can’t understand. It’s either he’s losing his mind or you’re just shamelessly hitting on him. And if you do, what is he going to do about you having a boyfriend? How can you, a rich boy/girl show interest in a gardener? He can already picture the fury in your father’s eyes once he discovers that Kazuha has overstepped his boundaries. What kind of game are you playing? His logic fails him again. And as much as he hates himself for that, he lets his dick dictate the rules to it.
„I don’t see how I could not, if it’s been made by your hands.”
A hint of dimple shows in one of his cheeks as the corners of his lips curve up delicately.
„Oh, but you always say that.”
You complain, pouting at the gardener. Kazuha’s eyes drop to your lips. His hard-on living its own life at this point.
„Because that’s the truth. I could repeat that as many times as you wish.”
He notices how your face lights up. You’re so spoiled. Whenever he praises you that cheeky glint in your eyes makes it painfully clear what you’re after. Your airy chuckle makes him want to kiss the living shit out of you.
„Well, I wouldn’t mind that.”
You admit, tilting your head to the side. It’s exactly the moment when you become aware of Kazuha’s hardness pressing against the material of his dungarees. Your pupils dilate and jaw hangs loose. The boy realizes that he’s been busted. He lets you eye his boner, feels it swell even more under the scrutiny of your gaze. Your mouth starts salivating, as if you were looking at a slice of the most delicious cake. You can’t wait to sink your teeth in it. Having buried his reason somewhere among other seedlings in your parents’ garden, Kazuha takes a step forward.
„What would your boyfriend say about that, though?”
He queries, the scent of his sweaty skin mixed with the freshness of earth surges through your nostrils. You’re not even sure if you’re still talking about the lemonade. You inhale him deeply, welcoming the delightful aroma that drugs your senses.
„What if I told you there is none?”
Kazuha cocks an eyebrow. Chest heavy with how much your presence affects him. All the wrong ideas churning in his head when you do nothing to move away.
„I’d ask you to leave your window open tonight.”
He answers, forcing himself to withdraw from the heat radiating from your body. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots your father walking in your direction.
„Hey, Kazuha. Can I borrow you for a second?”
Your father scoops the gardener closer, placing his arm around Kazuha’s shoulder. He greets you with a wink and steals him from your sight.
„You see, there is this company event that I’d like to organise on our premises. I’ll need you to help me with that.”
It’s the last thing you hear before they enter the mansion.
It’s late. The moon brightens the otherwise dark room. Waiting on tenterhooks, you’re sitting on the bed with your chin resting on your knees. Normally, you would expect to be getting drowsy, however today your skin prickles in anticipation. Per the gardener’s request, your balcony door is open. Soft blows of summer wind rush inside, cooling off your burning cheeks. It’s so quiet you can hear your heart beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. It’s pounding in your ears, loud enough for you to almost miss the subtle rustle of the ivy leaves.
You jump to your feet.
The rustle intensifies. The gardener’s platinum blonde strands reach your eyes first, then comes his bandaged hand as he lifts himself and leaps over the railing. So agile. He dusts off his attire and tucks some unruly locks of hair behind his ear. And yet, the wind keeps stealing them again, selfishly playing with their softness.
He takes a deep breath and delves his crimson eyes into the depths of your dark room. He smiles gently, spotting you right behind the glass door. He looks too innocent to be breaking into the room of his wealthy employers’ son/daughter.
He walks up to the balcony door and with one stomp of his foot later, he is inside. He gently closes the door behind him, not wanting to cause too much noise that could wake up your parents. He turns to you, drinking in the beauty of your illuminated by the moonlight skin.
There is this fleeting thought in his head that perhaps he’s gone mad. What is he even doing here? His stomach sinks and he feels warm and fuzzy all over. The silence rings in his ears.
„S-so, um, I heard you complaining about those geranium flowers on your window sill.”
He states, awkwardly shifting his weight from one leg to the other. His red orbs longingly fixate on your lips. They are so deliciously plush and pink, like the flower petals he so much adores touching with his fingers.
„And you climbed your way up here, in the middle of the night to ask me about these damn flowers?”
You cross your arms on your chest. You’d like him to drop that façade. It’s much more fun when he turns feral with his cock holding the reins.
„Among many other things.”
The gardener inches forward, halting close enough to make you feel his breath tickling your cheeks. You smell him again. This time it’s sweeter. Less of the wet soil but rather a scented flowery shampoo. It’s endearing. Shakily, he moves his hand to grasp your chin. For the second time this day, Kazuha feels his cock rise in his pants.
„If you promise to keep it quiet, that is.”
A little needy noise bubbles in your throat. Your knees betray you and you hold onto the gardener’s shirt as if your life depended on it.
„I’ll promise you anything if you finally fuck me with that needy cock.”
Your hand forcefully yanks his ponytail and Kazuha squeals. Possessive fingers keep pulling at the soft hair, guiding him to kiss you. Obediently, he brushes his lips across your mouth, making you shiver. His tongue is warm and breath unsteady. Tilting his head, he seals your lips with his. His nose pressed against yours. Kazuha is a good little kisser.
When he breaks the kiss, his hair is a mess, loosely resting on his shoulders. So fucking pretty it will haunt you forever.
He moves his hand to your hips and you hook your leg around his waist. He rolls his pelvis, sliding his clothed hard-on over your crotch. He places his other hand underneath your thigh to give you some stability. With the palm of his hand, Kazuha presses to your sex, sending sparks of tingling pleasure to your groin. Instinctively, he rocks his hips forward, rubbing his hand up and down your arousal. He looks for some resistance there, his dick craving your attention.
You scrape your nails across his hardened nipples, making him whimper in response. Feeling hazy, he keeps cupping your core, applying more and more pressure which sends a burst of carnal desire throughout your body. He senses how wet you’ve become. The gardener’s breath catches on exhale as your unforgiving fingers continue to tease his tender nipples. The feeling equally stimulating as it is painful and Kazuha grinds his teeth but still, stifled moans fall from his lips.
„Y-you told me to, ahh--, be quiet and you’re the one who is n-not.”
You mock, albeit his hand on your wetness clouds everything, especially the ability to think and formulate coherent sentences. Kazuha narrows his eyes, shuddering as your breath prickles his ear, sending little tremors to his weakened limbs.
Angrily, he crushes his mouth against yours and lifts you effortlessly, with his hands squeezing your ass cheeks.
„Mhmm--” you moan into the kiss.
Kazuha carries you to the bed, feeling your erratic heartbeat against his chest. He throws you on the bed and hastily unzips his trousers, releasing his pent-up desire. He yanks off his shirt and leans in to hover over you, eyes burning with an unquenchable thirst. Your fingers start heading south, over his abs, halting at the base of his cock.
Kazuha sucks in a breath and holds it once you mould your fingers around his shaft. It’s so pretty, like Kazuha himself. Just the right length and a bit on the thicker side. The tip is swollen and pink, curving upward. He groans and his head slumps forward once you firmly wrap your fingers around him and give him the first pump. His hips start to roll again, fucking into your palm.
He kisses your shoulder, making you sigh at the softness of his actions. He struggles to contain himself, transfixed by the strokes of your hand. He would be so ready to spill all over you like that, with your eyes lovingly staring into his red pools. But, more than his own release, he desires to savour the sensation of your orgasm around his dick.
He gently removes your hand from his aching shaft and pepper-kisses the surface of your knuckles. It’s so intimate. He breaks down all of your barriers, each fibre of your body yearning for his touch. With his other hand, he reaches for the pocket of his shirt. He buries your fingers in his platinum strands and you accept the invitation to further abuse his silky hair. Nails digging into his scalp as Kazuha pours lube all over your heat, making you hiss.
He whispers, apologetically kissing your forehead.
„Just h-hurry up and f-fuck me already, ahh--.” you plead, loving the stretch caused by the dainty finger carefully entering your hole.
Kazuha reassures, marvelling at how his finger perfectly fits inside. It slides in and out, massaging the oversensitized nerves.
He surely takes his sweet time preparing you for his dick and as much as you appreciate his thoughtfulness it’s fucking overbearing. Your hips jerk as you try to meet his fingers mid-way, hell-bent on getting rid of that tension coiling in your belly.
„I’m r-ready! Ready!”
You repeat and repeat but Kazuha is relentless.
He disagrees, lowering himself on you to trap your nipple between his lips. He starts sucking on it, tongue latching on the delicate bud, making you moan out his name in a whirling passion wrecking havoc in your body. He shoves in his second finger, and this time it’s you crying out loud. Too loud.
Panicked, Kazuha silences you with the palm of his free hand. The fingers inside buried deep enough to stimulate your g-spot. You can see literal stars each time the gardener hits that bundle of nerves. With tears in your eyes, just like in his wild fantasies, your hole starts contracting around his digits. Your orgasm takes over you out of nowhere. You weren’t prepared, not for such strong mind-numbing tremors of ecstasy draining your body. Kazuha draws it out as much as he can, stubbornly plunging in and out, till you push him away with your weary hands.
„Now you’re ready.”
You choke on a sob as he withdraws his fingers and positions himself with his dick pressing into your entrance. He hooks your knee over his shoulder and starts sinking into you. His cock stretches you, perfectly hugged by the warmth of your walls. The heat around him heightens his arousal up another sinful notch.
You’re shaking under him once he bottoms out. Hands desperately holding to his hips when he begins fucking you in earnest. He leans in to drown his moans into your pretty mouth. Every ounce of Kazuha’s blood seems to pool in his lower abdomen as he fights for breath in between his powerful thrusts. The bed creaks under his violent movement, your hips flexing forward to feel him deeper and deeper.
Soon, you’re coming again. The sudden onslaught of your second orgasm renders you immovable. Everything comes to a screeching halt as Kazuha's twitching dick quickly overstimulates you.
„P-please, no mo-ore!”
Kazuha curses not recognizing his voice as he reaches his high gripped by your repeatedly squeezing core. His orgasm shoots down his spine, exploding in his balls. He collapses on top of you, with hair sticking to his damp forehead. Enamoured with his vulnerable state, you cup his cheeks and feverishly press your lips together. He mewls weakly, totally spent.
You wait for his ragged breath to calm down as he rests his head on your chest. He’s still trembling and it makes you want to fuck him all over again just to see him come apart for the second time. He attempts to prop himself up on his elbow but his whole body feels so heavy.
„Where do you think you’re going?”
You ask, forcing him to plop on top of you like a ragdoll.
„No more climbing for today, Mister Gardener.”
Gently, you begin stroking his damp hair and he purrs like a kitten. His eyelids close before he can answer your question.
When you wake up the next day, you can already hear the sound of Kazuha’s shears trimming the hedge right across your balcony. You go out, squinting your eyes at the morning rays of sunshine that attack your sleepy body. Kazuha notices you and his cheeks dust with the lovely shade of pink. Your mum and dad, sitting at the patio nearby, enjoy their breakfast, oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions shattering the poor nerves of their talented gardener. Your mum beams, spotting you standing on the balcony. She waves in your direction, encouraging you to come down for breakfast.
Not long after, all of you are seated at the table. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the summer air. Kazuha keeps working diligently, hiding his face somewhere among the leaves of the overgrown bushes. You peer at him, already missing the warmth of his red orbs.
„So, darling,” your mum begins in this nosy tone of her voice, which means nothing but trouble.
„Will you be attending the event with your boyfriend? Your grandparents keep pestering me to finally have a chance to meet him.”
Kazuha drops his shears to the ground. Flustered, he bows and apologizes profusely.
Your mum only smiles at him and pats the free seat next to her. Kazuha nervously fidgets in his spot, not knowing what to do with himself. Your dad’s commanding voice leaves no room for objection.
„Come here, Kazuha. The coffee is just splendid. These bushes are not going anywhere anyway, right?”
The gardener nods hesitantly and on wobbly legs takes the seat between you and your mum. The lump in his throat makes it difficult for him to speak. He can’t even utter a proper thank you when your mum pours him some of that deliciously smelling coffee.
„Aren’t you hungry, Sweetheart?”
Your mum asks, focusing her eyes on the pale gardener. Kazuha, out of courtesy, accepts the plate with food which your mum forcefully pushes into his trembling hands. He nods again, too afraid to speak.
„So, I was saying,” your mum is back to the topic, „I expect you to finally introduce us to this boy. My point is--,”
She would most probably continue her rant but you cut her short.
„Oh, mum, but he’s right here. No need for any introductions.”
Your dad chokes on his coffee and mum blinks like countless times when you wrap your arm around the restless boy. Kazuha wants to disappear. He wants to dig a hole for himself right next to that big ass tree he thought a good idea to plant in your parents’ garden. His heartbeat sky-rockets when you place a chaste kiss on his burning cheeks. He feels hot and cold at the same time. Kazuha expects the worst, is ready for anything but not for what actually happens.
Your mum claps her hands and practically swoons at the display of affection. She rests her hand on top of Kazuha’s bandaged one and squeezes it excitedly.
„I always knew my child had a good taste in men.”
She announces in a sing-song manner and continues rambling about how cute he is and how happy it all makes her feel. Your dad clears his throat and somehow tries to rescue his loyal gardener from the awkwardness of that situation.
„Well then, I suppose the occasion calls for some stronger liquor than your overpriced coffee, Darling.”
He rises to his feet.
„Kazuha, care to give me a helping hand?”
For a brief second hope flashes in Kazuha’s eyes but the spark is gone as quickly as it appeared when you decide to bail on him.
„Oh, no. Let me help you, dad. Kazuha hasn’t finished his breakfast yet.”
You walk up to your father and cling to his arm. Kazuha’s eyes threaten you with their malicious glint but you just smile at him fondly, blowing a kiss in his direction.
Diluc as a wine industry tycoon
Childe as your swimming instructor
Zhongli as your history professor
Going out on a date with Genshin boys
Thigh job with Genshin boys
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[AU, SMUT] What Are You? | Bucky x Steve x Reader
Category: AU, Smut
(Mandatory) Age: 18+
Trigger Warnings: Mafia themes, derogatory language, intercourse
Ship: Steve x Bucky x Reader
Summary: Steve and Bucky Are Planning Some Work With a Client, But What Happens When That Client Doesn't Respect Their Girl?
Contains Spoilers for: N/A
Word Count: 2.6k
Almost everyone knew - there was no doubt about that. Everyone should’ve known, at least, but those who didn’t pay enough attention… sorry for them.
Everyone who heard the sound of the heels clacking against the marble flooring would straighten themselves up as if the sound was coming from the men themselves.
Which men? Oh, which men indeed.
That’s not to say that the woman couldn’t have any kind of friendships with any of the men in the building - she does need a little bit of platonic fun here and there.
“Slow down, Aphrodite, you might chip the flooring.” A mocking voice calls from behind her. Despite it being from a familiar face, the other men still stiffen as if they were the ones doing wrong.
“You might shatter the mirrors if you look in them for any longer.” The woman retorts as she attempts to hide the grin that forms at her own comeback.
The man, however, doesn’t even try to hide his smile as he turns his strides into a jog to catch up with her.
“How do you even know how often I stare in the mirror? You spying on me?” Sam asks, the pair glancing at each other and both now smiling.
“So you admit that you stare at the mirror, and not just look at it?” The woman tactically avoids his question with her own retort.
Sam’s laugh echoes through the corridor they’re walking through. It’s quite spectacular really - some would mistake it for being a palace. A place where only the good-willed people reside. Almost a shame that it’s full of the likes of James ‘Bucky’ Barnes and Steve Rogers - the two men who own just about all the power there is in New York, let alone Manhattan.
“You know they’re not done yet, right?” The man quizzes, a content smile still on his lips as his hands rest in the front pockets of his black trousers.
The woman doesn’t respond, simply nods.
Sam catches it out the corner of his eye and simply shakes his head.
“You have a habit of interrupting their meetings.”
“And you have a habit of saying things that might get you killed one day.” (Y/N) answers, but her gentle smile admits that that’s not entirely true.
Her attire consists of a loose but very fitting crimson dress that sits mid-thigh, along with the matching red heels that are buckled around her ankles. A simple silver chain around her neck that has two small, but very expensive, black and red diamonds resting in the centre of her collarbone.
“Tell Steve that his car’s being valeted if he needs it anytime soon.” The man comments as he turns off down another corridor, different to (Y/N)’s route.
She simply nods again.
Why is it that she’s heading toward her husbands’ meeting? Because she’s interested in seeing how it will end. The man who has been persisting to speak with Steve and Bucky for the last sixteen months is desperate, to say the least. He wants investment in their three hotels that are situated across NYC, in Queens, Brooklyn and Manhattan.
She was the one who decided on where those hotels would be built, so she wants to see the man, John Walker, crumble as her partners’ pretend they care, only to tell him no.
It might seem like a waste of time but in reality, it’s to see how the man deals with hearing the word no, and whether Bucky and Steve need to deal with him.
“Ma’am.” Christopher greets as (Y/N) approaches the door of the conference room that her men are in.
“Chris.” She responds, nodding her head as he opens the door for her. “How’s it going, gentlemen?” The woman adds as she casually struts into the room, grabbing everyone's attention.
There’s a moment of silence as everyone turns to look at the woman who’s interrupted their meeting. Steve and Bucky simply smile as they take a moment to admire their wife.
“Excuse me?” John is the first to speak up and everyone’s attention turns to him, including (Y/N), who doesn’t seem phased by his evident frustration.
“You’re excused.” Her response is simple but ignites a spark inside of the man.
“Do you usually let whores just stroll around and cause inconvenience in their wake, gentlemen?” He asks, but his eyes remain on (Y/N).
The woman’s eyebrows raise, and a surprised but impressed smile etches its way onto her face. She says nothing. John stares at her with a quirked brow, waiting for a response from the two men his question was directed to, so obliviously aware of the fearful stares he’s now getting from everyone else in the room.
Bucky and Steve’s heads turned very slowly, in sync, back toward their guest, their smiles now distorted into that of pure fury.
“Would you like to say that again?” Steve speaks up first, John now turning his head toward the boss in curiosity of his sudden change of voice.
That’s when the man notices all the stares on him. His eyebrows furrow as he acknowledges everyone’s expression. His eyes flick from the other men in the room to Bucky and Steve, to (Y/N), and back to the two leaders.
“I said: Say. It. Again.” Steve enunciates.
“Come here, doll,” Bucky speaks up also, his eyes flicking from John to (Y/N) for a brief moment, his arm opening up and inviting the woman to situate herself on his knee.
The woman obliges, striding over to her husbands and letting the brunet’s arm wrap around her as she sits.
John’s eyes haven’t left Steve’s, too mortified to even blink, but he catches the action of Bucky and (Y/N).
Steve’s eyebrow quirks, reminding his guest that he’s waiting. And Steve hates waiting.
“I didn’t mean- I didn’t know she was- gentlemen, please, look, this is all a big misunderstanding, I just-”
“Called our woman a whore and an inconvenience.” Bucky finishes his sentence, his expression just as murderous as Steve’s, despite the soothing actions of his hand stroking his wife’s waist.
“I didn’t know she was your-”
“And you think that excuses it?” Steve interrogates. “You think calling any woman a whore is acceptable? An inconvenience?”
John gulps and the sound echoes in the room. His eyes flicker away from Steve’s for a moment to the woman herself, intentionally or not, but his eyes drop to the prominent cleavage on display.
Bucky smirks at the action that most definitely didn’t go unnoticed by himself.
“Sweetheart,” Steve begins, John’s attention darting straight back to the blond’s once more. (Y/N) hums in response. “Who do you belong to?”
(Y/N) bites her lip, core throbbing at the obvious dominance and possession of the two men.
“You and James.” She whispers, Bucky’s hand gripping her waist tightly at the use of his birth name.
The sweat glistening on John’s forehead is clear as day.
Knowing what’ll get everyone in the room riled up even moreso, (Y/N) turns herself around so she’s facing Bucky, sat on his lap, legs on either side of his body. Everyone else in the room keeps their eyes firmly locked on the glass table or the white ceiling.
A pleasant hum resonates from the brunet’s throat, his hands naturally adjusting to rest on her hips.
The moment John’s eyes flicker to (Y/N) once more and then drift down her back, a gun is cocked and metal is pressed firmly against the back of the man’s head.
The woman goes to turn her head around to see what’s happened but Bucky’s lips locking with hers prevents that from happening. She whimpers against his mouth and he absolutely adores it.
“Bend over this table for me, doll.” The man murmurs. “Let’s show Mister Walker what a proper whore looks like.”
The excitement that sparkles in his wife’s eyes makes his cock throb between his legs.
The pet name makes both men throb.
The woman stands up and turns herself around, making sure every sway of her hips is a show to be watched. Her eyes lock with none other than their security lead, Tony Stark, who’s holding the gun up to Walker’s head, as she bends herself over the table, dress drooping at the front to display her cleavage.
Tony’s eyes don’t even flicker away from her own. The staff in this building know better than to try and indulge in what is rightfully Bucky and Steve’s. John, however, sees this as a prime opportunity to stare at what he believes he’s being offered, his trousers getting tighter.
(Y/N) sees it. She finds is humorous.
Bucky’s hands slide their way up the backs of his wife’s bare thighs, pushing up the crimson material as he reaches it.
Her eyes flutter shut and lips part in satisfaction at the feeling.
“Tell us what you want, doll.” Bucky mumbles, sitting the bottom of her dress at the base of her back, grinning at her lack of underwear.
The explicit word that escapes John’s lips are heard clear as day and he knows it, face once again panicking as he looks back at Steve, whose expression still hasn’t changed.
“Where do you want me to touch you, princess?” James continues, not paying an ounce of attention to anyone else in the room right now besides his missus.
His fingers stroke the top of her inner thighs, seeing her soaking wet core already dripping down them.
“Want you to touch my pussy.” (Y/N) breathes, eyes flitting open barely a millimetre.
James presses soft kisses on his wife’s ass before sliding his middle and ring finger lightly over her slit. The action gets a mewl out of her.
Fifteen men in this room in total, only two of them can touch this woman yet all fifteen are dreaming about it.
“Move.” Steve states, prompting John to widen his eyes once more, but this time the words aren’t directed at him.
Bucky grins and obliges, removing his hands from his girl and stands up.
(Y/N)’s eyes open fully this time as she whines in complaint at the loss of contact, but a large smack on her ass distorts her whine into a large gasp.
“You’ll get what’s coming to you, sweetheart.” Steve states, manoeuvring himself so he’s stood directly behind his wife, Bucky casually pulling his own gun out of his inner blazer pocket and wiping it down with his hands.
John’s face stays facing Steve, but his eyes follow Bucky as the brunet moves behind him and out of his sight.
Tony takes the sign to back away and let his boss take over from here.
Steve has no shame as he unbuckles his belt, undoes his trousers and pulls out his rock-hard cock, stroking it with his hand a few times while his other hand returns to Bucky’s previous actions.
“You see that?” Bucky whispers in John’s ears, prompting the man to gasp and jump in his seat. He gulps again but remains silent. “I asked you a question.”
The man frantically nods, fearful for his life, and absolutely humiliated.
“You’re so wet, baby,” Steve murmurs, leaning down and moving her hair aside, kissing the back of her neck.
Before the woman can even respond, her husband thrusts himself inside of her in one go, (Y/N)’s back arching and moaning so loud that Christopher can probably hear outside the door, and Steve’s head being thrown back, his own moan equally loud.
Bucky almost loses his composure if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew not to falter when making sure a man like John Walker was wanting his woman.
“Fuck…” Walker whispers, lips parted as he stares at the woman in front of him being railed by none other than Steven Rogers.
“Keep watching because this is your death wish.” Bucky whispers, John’s eyes widening. “Does she look good?”
John nods his head almost desperately.
Her moans only get faster and louder as Steve fucks her.
“Remind him what you are, sweetheart?” The blond groans, grabbing the woman’s hair and pulling her head back so she’s more or less face-to-face with Walker alongside her other husband.
“A whore.” (Y/N) practically begs.
“Louder.” Steve demands.
“I said: fucking louder!”
“A WHORE! I’m your whore, sir!” She screams, John losing it and standing up to lean forwards but a gunshot firing beside his head makes him stumble back down to his seat.
(Y/N) flinches are the known noise but settles quickly as Bucky strokes her face with the hand that’s not holding the freshly-fired weapon.
“Don’t you fucking dare move an inch toward our wife.” Bucky threatens to the man he’s leaning over.
John gulps but nods, not taking his eyes off (Y/N).
“Is she inconvenient now, Walker?” Steve asks, glaring daggers at the man. He only shakes his head, eyes only meeting Steve’s for a split second. “No?” He breathes. “Then what is she?”
The guest falls speechless, shaking his head as his eyes flicker between Steve and (Y/N).
“Hot as fuck.” He whispers, Bucky growling in his ear.
“Fuck!” (Y/N) cries out, desperate eyes staring at Bucky’s, who smirks at her state.
“Think our girl wants to cum, Steve.” He comments, John panting in his seat.
“Yeah? You wanna show this scum what a good girl you are for us, baby girl?” Steve grunts, not slowing down but rather speeding up as he too reaches his peak.
The woman’s head nods in desperation, face flushed as her eyes flicker across all men in the room, including Tony’s, who simply winks at her before removing his stare.
“Say it, doll.” Bucky demands.
“I wanna cum.” (Y/N) gasps, watching her brunet lover shake his head.
“Gonna have to do better than that, doll.”
“Please,” She begs. “Please, daddy. Sir. Please, let me cum!” Her voice screams, Steve grunting in response to the feeling of her squeezing his cock, milking him for all his worth.
“Cum, baby girl.” He permits. “Cum like the whore you are.”
And how she does.
Her scream could shatter glass, Christopher would be concerned if he hadn’t already established the differences between the woman’s fearful screams and her pleasure-filled ones.
Taking full advantage of Bucky’s distraction, John leaps forward to get a taste of the woman who’s almost passing out from the pleasure, but that’s the last move he makes as a bullet is shot through his back, knocking him down onto the table.
Tony doesn’t seem phased as he shakes the smoke from his gun, settling it back into his pocket.
Making sure the woman doesn’t collapse atop the, now dead, man on the table, Bucky holds her up while Steve sorts himself out before pulling her back across the table and into his lap.
“You okay, sweetheart?” The blond whispers, smoothing the hair out of her face.
(Y/N) nods but keeps her eyes shut as she rests against her husband’s chest.
“Words, baby.” He requests.
“That’s my girl.”
Two of the security men alongside Tony head over and remove the body from the room, Bucky asking for someone to clean up the mess whilst walking over to his two lovers.
“We okay?” The brunet murmurs, Steve smirking and nodding before both paying attention to their girl who’s still half unconscious.
“Does anyone else in the room have anything to say before we carry on?” Steve asks, everyone shaking their heads frantically. “Good, now leave.” And they do.
“You okay, baby doll?” Bucky whispers, cocooning her cheek with his hand.
The woman nods and manages to open her eyes.
“That’s our girl.”
Everything Tag List: @nosoulnoproblems | @rileyloves5 | @girl-who-loves-mythology | @avngrsinitiative | @lookinsidemyhead |@xbabykookiix | @myspectacularfantasies | @fanfic-anyone | @rororo06 | @queenofbuskers | @vapingisntmything | @tony-stank3 | @hermione-grangers-wife | @lili-ann-love | @the-omni-princess | @tayahs-blog | @regulus-black | @saturnsteverogers| @fyfiexo | @amazingiam00 | @deviltownn | @buckybarneses | @fafulous | roryshitposts | trynnabemultifandom | @moodboreddd | @hopingforbarnes | @an-adventureland | justassaneasiam-ll | @profoundllamanickeleggs | @xbongox | @minetticatinwonderland | @thinkaboutmara | @xxaestheticboyxx | @sparklycollectionofoldmemes | @wandaneedstherapy | @georgiadixon | @nerdy-thespian-10 | @nsb-supertrio | @thinkaboutmara | @captainamerica-is-bae | @spookyparadisesheep | @supernaturallover2002 | @notsochillnerd | @peggycarter-steverogers | @reann-shitposting |
Stucky x Reader Only Tag List: @polarbearnamedpanda | @marvelous-glims
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rating the justice league's theoretical fits for the met gala:
batman: 0/10 doesn't show up no matter how much his kids beg him to. on an unrelated note bruce wayne has fallen down the stairs
superman: 4/10 kryptonian fashion is cool but this is the guy who put on a wallmart uniform to go to a double date with catwoman. i don't trust his fashion choices
wonder woman: 100/10 amazing spectacular showstopping. she's wearing themyscira's hottest ceremonial armour and showing so much muscle it's a miracle nobody has fainted yet. this look becomes an entire generation's gay awakening. and it's also confortable enough to kill enemies on!
flash: 6/10 it's not very impressive but it's fun. he's not afraid of wearing vibrant colors but on very basic pieces. i think he's the kind of guy who would wear a red tux and think he has made some kind of point. but again, fun
cyborg: 5/10 vic is a rare combination of jock and nerd and unfortunately that isn't good for fashion. like he could pull something if he tried, he has the figure and the face, he could totally wear a suit with cyberpunk accents, but unfortunately he doesn't feel confortable taking the risk so he sticks with his prom tux. shame
aquaman: 10/10, 16/10 if we're talking jason momoa's aquaman. like yeah people might say he's the dorkiest superhero but wait until he shows up in a luminescent blue suit, no shirt, tits out, blue coral and silver jewelry, shark teeth earring, hair in a messy bun, iridescent eye makeup, queen mera as his date wearing a dress made out of actual waves. god i'm so bi
green lantern: 3/10 he follows the theme but it's not a great outfit. points for trying
green arrow: 11/10 and it pisses EVERYONE off. most of his points come from coordinating with dinah and from being the sluttiest bitch on the gala. he's here to have fun and show hole and by god he will deliver
black canary: 67/10 what can i say? she's a punk rock icon, she wears fishnets to work, she's not afraid of taking risks because she knows whatever she tries she will ace, that's her superpower. oh and ollie is her armpiece so that also counts.
martian manhunter: 2/10 you can't just show up in your work uniform, it doesn't matter that it's composed by a blue speedo and a red harness, it doesn't count. next time get m'gann to help you out man
shazam: 0/10 is a kid, his fashion sense comes from tiktok, no i won't allow it
zatanna: 9/10 she wears tuxedos on the daily so it kind of loses some of its effect but still oh my fucking god. oh my god. jesus fucking christ.
nightwing: 0/10 unless the theme is 80's fashion, then he kills it
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Atsumu is quite alarmed when he makes a shocking discovery about what you thought of his hair in high school. To add insult to injury, you seemed to think his bastard brother’s was better.
“Tsumu sit still, would you?” He fidgeted once again, a smirk on his face as he stared at you. You paused your movements, glaring at him.
“What? Why’d ya stop?” Atsumu spoke innocently, but the smug grin on his face told you otherwise. The little shit you thought. Not one day, not one single day, could he go without making you want to smash his skull in, but your eyes softened when his hands found your waist and squeezed gently.
“Tsum, you asked me to help, don’t be obnoxious.”
“I don’t know what yer talking about babe.” You narrowed your eyes further.
“Tsumu, if you’re anything like this when you dye your hair by yourself, no wonder Samu’s hair always looked better when he used to dye his.” It was silent, Atsumu’s grip on your waist loosened as he registered your words. Then suddenly, all hell broke loose.
“What do ya mean? Y/n? What’re ya saying? You like his hair better? How could ya? Ya always liked his better? Even now? Y/n, how could ya say that? Yer... yer supposed to love me,” he whispered dramatically at the very end, looking at you betrayed. Snorting, you shook your head.
“Tsum, Samu’s hair was way better than yours in high school.” Once more, there was a silence for a moment. Then he crossed his arms, pushing you away and looking to the side. Ever the man child.
“Well that’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“You don’t seem too fine about this.”
“Nah I’m fine. I’m perfectly cool. Never been more okay actually, just found out ya like my brother’s hair better than mine is all.” You chuckled and this only offended him more. This time, he pouted, and the sight before you was an amusing one to say the least. There sat your tall and well built boyfriend, sitting on the bathroom counter with his legs dangling, hair dye halfway applied to his roots as he pouted like a child, arms crossed over his sturdy chest. Your eyes lingered on his biceps for a moment, taking a second to appreciate how they were exposed in the black muscle tank top he wore.
“Tsum, that color was atrocious.” Atsumu gasped, staring at you with his mouth agape. Maybe you shouldn’t have used that word, he’d only be more dramatic, but at the same time, it was too exciting to see how easily you were pushing his buttons.
“Oh is that so? Ya seemed pretty enamored by me back then though.” Once again you snorted.
“Yeah that’s because I had awful taste. It hasn’t gotten much better since then, but your hair’s improved so there’s that.” This time, he furrowed his eyebrows along with his pout, and the usual intimidatingly cocky man your boyfriend seemed to others turned into a five year old before your eyes.
“Yer mean. I don’t love ya anymore.” You pouted back mockingly, stepping forward to cup his cheeks.
“Aww baby don’t be that way.”
“Don’t call me baby.”
“Don’t call me that either.”
“So should I call Samu my baby then?” He glared, pulling you closer.
“No, I’ll kill the bastard. Ya can call me baby again.”
“Does that mean you love me again?” He contemplated for a moment before glaring at you.
“Well thank goodness,” you chuckled. Leaning in, you pecked his cheek and his arms made their way back to your waist. “I love you too.”
“Did ya really think his hair was better?”
“Baby come on, your teammates called you piss hair.”
“Well, the color could’ve been a bit better.”
“Yer so fake.”
“But your hair is spectacular now! I absolutely love it,” you promised, leaning your forehead to his. He hummed, rubbing a thumb over your cheek.
“It’s better than that bastard Samu’s right?” You nodded, tilting your head forward until your lips were just about to touch.
“Much better.” And then he kissed you, your hands finding their way over his shoulders and to the back of his neck.
“Now, will you please sit still so I can finish dyeing the roots?” Smiling at you dazed, he nodded.
“Okay, don’t mess up.” You rolled your eyes, pinching his cheek and laughing when he whined about how hard you squeezed.
“Don’t worry I won’t. I don’t want to give people the leverage to say I picked the twin with the worse hair a second time.”
“Baby!” He whined, looking at you absolutely heartbroken, but his eyes held a playful glint. “That’s not fair, I always tell ya how perfect ya are.” That was true, you couldn’t deny it. Atsumu was the voice in the back, celebrating your success, even if they were the most trivial of achievements. He bragged about you tirelessly, paying no mind to the eye rolls he got, rambling off reason after reason why you were better than the rest. He made it his personal mission to show you how much he loved you every day, reminding you just how perfect you were for him, trying to top his gestures from the previous day so you’d never doubt his affections. And you didn’t. How could you doubt him when he looked at you like you’d hung the stars? How could you ever doubt he loved you when he scanned for you figure, beaming at you after every score during a game? Atsumu was safe and secure, and he was where you fit best, the smile on your face more radiant than anywhere else. Cupping his cheeks, you smiled as you squished them a little.
“You’re perfect too Tsum, you know that. That’s why we’re such a power couple, Osamu’s still single as ever if you haven’t noticed.” He beamed at your words, nodding haughtily as he thought about his brother’s love life.
“Yer right. No one would want him would they? Not when they could have me. Too bad my pretty baby snatched me up, huh?” Despite rolling your eyes at him, your cheeks still felt warm at that last part.
“Yeah, it’s such a shame. So would be your hair not getting done, so lean down so I can finish it.”
May I offer this as a peace offering after that Sakusa angst fic from earlier today? Because you all seemed to take personal offense at the lack of a happy ending💀
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home to you is atrocity in the town
pairing: elizabeth olsen x reader
synopsis: in your newfound fame as an actor, you sign onto a crime thriller with elizabeth olsen, as lines between fiction and real life blur.
word count: 3.6k
a/n: an alternative title for this is “y/n being a dumb ass for 4k words straight”.
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Archie perked up in his seat when the screen turned black with the credits. He soon joined in the sea of applause that began to ring throughout the theater. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath for that long until he lightly smack your arm, already upright and clapping with some of the audience. You didn’t like all the attention that you were getting, but you thought part of the reason Archie was clapping was because he was content with his performance in the film.
You sunk back into your seat, ignoring the validation that strangers were commemorating you with. ‘A role of a lifetime’, they called it in a magazine. But you weren’t satisfied, you were never satisfied. It was your greatest fiend; your imposter syndrome.
It was a whole process, the nine months, but you still remembered first day you stepped on set. A new film, a whole new cast and crew. You thought maybe you should just be yourself this time, be polite and minimum and people will get the hint that you were shy.
“Y/N Y/L/N and Archie Renaux To Star In New Thriller Drama ‘Home To You’ Alongside Elizabeth Olsen”
Archie Renaux was the only one you recognized amidst the crowd of people scrambling to perfect the set down to the finest details. He was the guy you did your chemistry read with, and the only one there that talked to you like you were a normal human being.
“Y/N. How’s it going?” He gave a big smile, and shook your hand.
Good, you answered.
It was nice seeing a familiar face, and one so sympathetic and open. However, you couldn’t quite ignore the buzz in the pit of your stomach since you opened your eyes that morning. You hadn’t ever been this nervous to start a new project before. Maybe it had something to do with this one’s leadwoman, who was approaching you with a coffee cup in her hand.
You knew who she was. In fact, you followed her filmography quite closely. Most people knew her from the Marvel franchise, but she resonated with you in her indie projects, like the one in which she played an FBI agent or a young grieving widow. They seemed more like actual human beings than super characters that can shoot plasma out of their hands.
You had imagined what it would be like ever since you got the news of your involvement in the film. Seeing her in real life, then, was quite surreal. She was taller, her hair was much darker, and her eyes were greener than you had anticipated. And she was gorgeous. You almost forgot how to speak.
“Hi, Y/N. I’m Elizabeth, but please, call me Lizzie.” She extended her hand for you to shake.
You never let your hidden affection for Lizzie affect your work. It was your strength; once you stood on your mark and the director called ‘action’, you were someone else, someone entirely different, living a completely different life for those few minutes the camera rolled.
After the premiere, it was time for interviews, the part of the job you didn’t particularly like. You found it atrocious to have to explain your work.
“The film was incredible.” The gentleman in the grey suit said, he didn’t quite meet your eye. “How was it like working with Elizabeth Olsen? I mean, the chemistry between you two was out of this world!”
“It’s incredible, yeah.” You held the man’s gaze. “Lizzie is just such an amazing actor and the way she embodies her characters, it’s spectacular to watch how she becomes just a different person. I’m just lucky enough to bounce off of her.”
“A lot of people would say the same about you.”
You let out a short laugh. “Only on my good days.”
“Y/N Y/L/N Shares Struggles in ‘Home To You’ Role”
Lizzie was one of those people that always showed up to set on time. When you had just arrived, she’d always already be in the makeup chair. Soon, you found yourself checking your appearance first before entering the makeup trailer.
“Morning,” she’d always say.
Your brain never worked fast enough once she’s spoken to you, and you’d just reciprocate the word back to her.
It was going to be a long shoot that day, only a little past 4am when you sat down in your makeup chair, and the schedule was to finish at 12pm that night. The first half of the day you would spent filming scenes with Archie.
You enjoyed his company. He would always end up talking for the both of you, but it was fine. His British accent would come out more when he speaks of a topic he was passionate about, his newborn daughter or the bakery that was down the street from set. You considered him a friend by the second day of shooting.
You were more nervous about the nighttime shoots with Lizzie as you have been ever since filming started. She had always been professional and friendly to you, but you couldn’t swallow the voice in your head that strived to be perfect all the time in front of her, one of the actors you admired.
You sat on the steps outside one of the makeup trailers, waiting for someone to call your name to get ready for filming. Though you were antsy, the nicotine you inhaled somewhat calmed your mind. At footsteps creaking on the stairs, you turned around and moved to the side for them to walk past.
“You smoke?” It was the voice you dreaded to hear.
“Yeah,” you said, watching Lizzie sit down next to you, “just once in a while. Helps me clear my head.”
“I used to smoke too when I was younger, but I quit.” She rubbed her arm; the night’s chill was catching up on her.
You wouldn’t tell her about how the cigarettes calm you, how you would imagine a scene from the script play out in the smoke, how your mind seems to slow down when you stick those deadly things in your mouth. You wouldn’t tell her, as you knew she wouldn’t tell you how she quit.
“I assumed you found other things to replace it with?”
“Yeah, I do gardening now. It’s weirdly therapeutic, caring for another being like that. One time I almost missed work trying to pick out worms that have festered in my crops. If I left them there for that morning, my whole plot of strawberries might have all died.” She looked at you, smiling. “It gives you responsibility.”
Look at this woman, who thinks about gardening, of all things, in such a nurturing way. The cigarette suddenly felt foreign in your hand, its smoke wavering in your vision like an invitation to take another hit.
“I wish I had the willpower.” You said, smiling slightly.
“You will,” there was a glint in her eyes, “if you have something to fight for.”
You felt bold, though your heart hammered in her chest. “What’s yours?”
Lizzie didn’t answer at first, but she took the fuming stick from your hand and put it between her lips. You watched the end of the cigarette glare red before she puffed out the smoke.
“See you inside.” She said, then gave you the cigarette back and walked towards the set.
You looked down at the damp spot on the cigarette where her lips had been. You wished you hadn’t said anything at all.
You saw her again after your cigarette had burned out, and she looked like Bianca Ambrose, the troubled woman that lives next door from your character.
You could never get past the wall, the invisible wall that shielded you from her. Everyone else seemed to get to her side of the wall just fine, and the sound of their laughter mixed with hers were irritable on your ears. Even Archie, especially Archie, him and his talkative nature. Yesterday you overheard Lizzie talk about how she laughed until her sides hurt watching Archie do impressions of a Scottish accent.
And you, the only thing she could talk about you was. . .your “talent for acting”, your professionalism. . .your cigarette. Your pack of Marlboro emptied itself much faster than usual, as you hoped you’d catch her in a conversation like the one the other day again. The cigarette talks for me, because I can’t muster up the fucking courage to. She never continued with her garden stories or told you how she quit smoking. The only thing you got from consuming half a pack in a week was a short ‘Hi’ and a quick smile.
The only ways in which you could have her was when she was Bianca Ambrose, and you Noel Kirchhoff, the subtle flirtation and sensual interactions though present, everyone in the room could feel it, wasn’t real. Once the camera stopped rolling, the footage edited into a movie and some person finishes watching it, it remained confined in the fictional world you help creat. But why, then, did you feel like it was a moment of your own? Like gliding your hand through silk, jumping into a pool and feeing the bubbles creep along your skin. It felt real, it felt yours and hers, not Bianca and Noel’s, yours.
You felt the way she touched you with the pads of her fingers, her eyes lingering longer than normal neighbors should, her words hanging heavy in the air as if wanting you to catch and savor them. When you kissed her, the camera disappeared, and it was just you and her. You thought of what Noel would think, scandalously making out the woman that was a suspect in the murder of another neighbor. Fuck it, you thought, Noel would just say ‘fuck it’.
“And cut!” You opened your eyes, and caught the blush on her cheeks; Bianca’s, not Lizzie’s.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
“Here they are, the stars of tonight, Elizabeth Olsen, Y/N Y/L/N and Archie Renaux. Please, join us!” The interviewer gestured as you followed your castmates into the frame of the camera.
You waited until Archie had settled next to Lizzie before joining his side.
“Let’s talk about the movie, guys. Absolutely incredible, spectacular cinematography, masterclass acting. What attracted you to this role?”
“Elizabeth Olsen as the lead role.” You answered, earning a laugh from the interviewer and Archie. When you glanced over to Lizzie, the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
“Y/N Y/L/N Shares Hilarious Prank Castmate Elizabeth Olsen Played On-Set of ‘Home To You’”
You should have known closing yourself off would have its consequences. People would begin to misunderstand, and they would talk. You could tell some of the crew members have found talking to you a difficult task, by their forced smiles and curt answers. But you supposed you reaped what you sow.
The lines in the script were beginning to blur together. It didn’t help that your section for today was a lot to remember. You sighed and put the script down, massages your eyes through the skin.
Looking around the tent, your eyes landed on some scrap paper. You always found writing things down help you remember better. It would help plenty again, thought.
“Oi, Y/N.” Archie found you in your chair. “Boss’ looking for you.”
Maya counseled you on Noel’s temperament for the next scene. She was dynamic and hands-on, probably the liveliest director that you’ve ever worked with. Her vision of the film has been made clear from day one, though you found that her animated hands when she talked was the only thing you could recall from that day. Apparently, Noel’s trajectory needed her to have found her bearings around the new neighborhood and thus, has lightened up a bit, and your portrayal had been grimmer than she had wanted it.
“We’ll try a few different takes, see which one might be best, but I know if anyone can do it, it’s you.” Andrea pat your back, the corner of her lips pulled up like a proud aunt would when you tell her about your well-paying job in the city.
You gave Maya a quick smile. On all levels you disagreed with her. Your character was grieving a great loss, and that great of a sadness can’t all be easily erased by a moving into a new neighborhood.
You returned to your chair for a last look at your lines, to find the piece of scrap paper that you have annotated gone. A cold sweat ran down your neck and you frantically started looking for the page. You hadn’t looked at it thoroughly before Maya called you.
“Shit. . .” you mumbled and grabbed your head. You were a perfectionist, and not knowing your lines before a shoot was your worst nightmare, especially in an important scene like this.
The camera rolled, and you found yourself having to improvise. You saw the perplexed look on Maya’s face as she bent over to watch the monitor.
“Cut!” She yelled. “Y/N, dear, could we try it exactly like the script first please?”
Nightmarish. Maya didn’t look very happy when you finished the scene, and said that she would reshoot the scene the next day if needed. She’s never said that before.
You kicked the rocks on the ground as you returned to your tent. That was your last scene for the day, and normally you would stay and try to socialize with the cast and crew for a bit, but none of that for today. You reached for your jacket slung over the chair, just as you felt a hand on your shoulder.
“Looking for this?” You turned around. Lizzie stood with her weight shifted on one hip, holding up soke folded paper between her index and middle fingers like a cigarette.
“Where did you get that?”
“I found it on your chair.”
“You took it?” You scrunched your eyebrows. “I couldn’t remember the lines, that’s why I—“ You snatched the paper from her hand, “wrote it down.”
“Alright, calm down. Your improvising was good—“
“Maya hated it.”
“I think it was good.”
“Look, nobody cares what you think, okay?” You snapped, as Lizzie gawked at you, taken aback. “You think because your some Marvel actor that everybody around you just bows to your feet.”
“Wow.” Lizzie stared, and let out a scoff. “Sorry for messing with you. Remind me to never do that again.”
You stomped away. The frustration was gone, but you felt like shit for taking it out that way.
The next day, it started to snow. Your hands ached as the cold seeped into your bones.
Lizzie was wearing a big fluffy jacket, and puffing out cold smoke in the air, reminiscent of your first conversation.
“Are you still mad at me?” She asked.
You heard a short giggle before she walked away.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
To celebrate the movie having wrapped, the crew decided to eat out. Big dinners always made you nervous, but you were also relieved it was to celebrate the end.
Your eyes looked for a certain brunette as soon as you set foot into the restaurant, which you hated. You were mostly angry at yourself. You never said sorry for the outburst you threw at her, and she never spoke to you about it again.
“I’d like to thank the crew, without them we wouldn’t even think to have all of this possible. You guys are the backbone of this production and you deserve all the praise.” Maya raised her glass of champagne. “And lastly, our amazing cast who brought this vision, this story that’s really important to me, to life. To you guys, Archie, Lizzie and Y/N.”
As you raised your glass, your eyes met Lizzie’s. Her gaze was unreadable as she put the champagne to her lips. It reminded you of the last time you kissed her, only about a week ago. You mentally cursed at yourself at your own confusing emotions. You wanted to stay away from her because you knew she was trouble, but you and you wanted to be wrong and couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to know more about her.
Once you found you had lost track of time, you also felt lightheaded and nauseous at the amount of alcohol you’ve had. Archie next to you, his face was a pinkish hue and everyone at the table seemed to be talk much louder than they were at the beginning. Suddenly, the commotion became too overwhelming and your head was ringing from the sensory overload. You swatted your hand at Archie, but maybe you were too weak and he didn’t notice. You felt like you were going to pass out.
“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, standing up. “I need some air.”
As soon as you stepped outside, the shrill in your head subsided, but the dizziness and nausea prevailed. You haven’t felt this ill in a long time. The last time you did was in college and you swore to yourself to never let yourself go too far off your limit again.
You didn’t notice someone turning you towards them until you saw the emerald of Lizzie’s eyes, her gaze of mischief from before replaced with one of concern and furrowed eyebrows.
Your eyes focused and found a smile on her lips.
“Well, you had a shot too much.” She said, slinging your arm over her shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”
You had no energy to protest, and dragged your feet next to Lizzie as she pulled you forwards on the cobblestone road.
Once you arrived in front of your rented apartment, you were half-clinging onto your colleague, attempting to fish your keys out.
She let you collapse onto your bed the earliest she could, commenting something about using you as weights for the gym. Your cheek was squished into the mattress as you watched Lizzie disappear from your bedroom, and closed your eyes. You thought she had left until she returned with a glass of water, which she set by the nightstand.
“Are you gonna sleep in those clothes?” Asked Lizzie. You were drifting to sleep. “Y/N.”
The sound of your name on her lips woke you. The way she said it, the authoritative tone, the way she pronounced it so clearly.
“I’ll change.” You mumbled with your eyes still closed.
“Then do it.”
“Not now.” You snapped, but you didn’t mean to.
There was a moment of silence before she spoke up. “Why do you hate me so much, Y/N?”
A million things ran through your head, and a million outcomes present themselves. You were in your bedroom alone with Lizzie, and she was confronting you with the question that you yourself didn’t know how to answer. Why do you hate her so much?
You felt the bed dip under weight. “I don’t hate you.”
“Sure act like it.”
Please don’t make me explain, but I need you, you wanted to say. “I’ll change.”
“I don’t need you to change for me, Y/N.” Lizzie spoke quietly. “I just need you to be honest.”
She asked too much of you. ‘Let down your guard and let me in’, is what she was asking. You had a handful of people on the inside of your walls, even Archie you kept at arm’s length. She was asking too much of you, yet some desperate part of you that needed her wanted so much to tear down the walls and let her in, for she, you gambled, would change everything.
“Stay here tonight. I don’t want to be alone.” You said, avoiding her eyes. “Please.”
As soon as you saw the grin on her face and her soft gaze on you, you knew you had sounded too desperate. But you didn’t care; too much was better than too little. People never made do with too little.
“You can stay here. I’ve got some clothes in the closet if you want to change.” You propped up on your elbow, closing your eyes to let your head get used to the change. “I’ll take the couch.”
“Or you could just stay in here.” Lizzie inferred, finding the space between you safe.
You glanced at the clock on the wall. Only a few hours until sunrise, only a few hours until what happens next means something.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
“Y/N.” You felt a tug in your hand. Looking back, the interviewer had turned away to review the footage, and the chaos of the after party allowed you to slip away before anyone could notice.
Your lips were pulled into another pair. At the contact, you sighed and smiled into the kiss, feeling the weight of putting on your public-appropriate front began to fall from your shoulders.
“So eager.” You whispered, your giggle mixed with hers.
“What can I say,” she snaked her arms around your neck, “I just want to have the star of the film all to myself. That too much to ask?”
“Get in line then.” You leaned in to capture her lips in a heated kiss.
“Do you think people would notice that we left?” You asked as she looked behind her shoulder.
“No, but with your responses to that question, they might.” Lizzie grinned. “Why the hell would you say that?”
“What? It’s true! I signed on ‘cause of you.”
“Yeah, but the way you said it.”
You chuckled and gave her another kiss. “You worry too much.”
Your hands caressed her sides as your mouth moved against her more desperately. Just as you moved your kisses along her jaw, she stopped you.
“Not here, babe.”
“You’re right, let’s get out of here.” You grabbed her hand and eagerly led her outside, as the premiere faded behind the door.
“Co-Stars Elizabeth Olsen and Y/N Y/L/N Spark Dating Rumors”
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo
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hope you don’t stop running to me, cause i’ll always be waiting
character: dabi | todoroki touya - raver!dabi
genre: extremely sentimental fluff + smut with a sprinkle of angst
notes: okay so essentially, this is raver!dabi, but like the piece isn't really focused around that. the piece is about this all encompassing, ravenous love the reader feels for him, and it really borders on unhealthy obsession; it's about how he's the happiest she ever sees him at raves, but it's bittersweet because he's so fucking high, and it kind of contrasts his love for raves and drugs with her love for him | title cred: cinema by benny benassi ft. skrillex and gary go
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, size difference, drugs, obsessive unhealthy relationship, extreme codependency, manipulation if u squint, minimal prep, a sprinkle of degradation
And he’s so fucking breathtaking—striking sapphires and stunning smile more spectacular than any piece of art you’ve ever seen, the combined melody of deep grunts and trembling groans rattling around behind his ribs better than any piece of music you’ve ever heard, endless words streaming from his swollen ruby lips lovelier than any piece of fine literature you’ve ever read.
He’s walking art, talking art, living, breathing, feeling art—and he’s all yours.
There’s nothing he loves more, no where he feels more at home, more at ease, more himself, than at a rave, you’re absolutely sure of it.
He sniffs them out like a hound, manages to find them no matter what city or country he’s in; loves them indiscriminately, regardless of how big or small they are; and drags you to each one he attends. Because he’s addicted to every single thing about them—irrevocably hooked on the pounding music that throbs like a beating heart, the marvelous colours that sear through the venue like vibrant flares of blood, the pretty pills and dazzling tabs and soft, soft powder—it all turns the party into a living entity, breathes life into the crowd, intoxicates him like nothing he’s ever felt before; and he’ll never be able to get enough of them, enough of how they make him feel, how they make him forget.
But he wants you there with him every time.
Sometimes, he’s hauling you into dingy basements full of wispy smoke and blaring speakers, staticky as they thrash out beats over a crowd, atmosphere saturated with sweat and the sickly sweet smell of hard candies. Others, he’s pulling you along on a lush field or cracked concrete tainted with brilliant flashes of crimson and violet, through thousands and thousands of people adorned in spiky fur and holographic latex until he finds the stage he’s looking for.
You don’t mind, though, unbothered by the pulsing music and the glistening crowds. You don’t mind, because this is your only chance to get these fleeting little glimpses of what true, pure happiness looks like on him—and you’re fucking addicted to it.
This weekend it happens to be a two-day-long EDM festival, set up far away from society in a large grassy meadow, embellished with wildflowers that dot the tangled jade strands with pops of pastel pinks and yellows and ivories—and it’s enchanting, whimsical, almost surreal in a sense. You can feel it, the atmosphere that drapes the masses of people scattered across the rolling hills, an energy unlike any other that envelops the patrons and lulls them into a state of soothing bliss.
He loves it. You love him.
And you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to accurately explain what the feeling of accompanying him to a rave is like; you don’t think the words even exist—the essence and aura, the feelings that swirl around in your chest, fuzzy and fluttery and fierce, transcending any and all languages. Because they’re something bigger, something better—they’re something higher, something stronger, something more than any word could ever describe.
No, there’s no way to define it, to portray it, nothing to encapsulate or summarize it, the genuine happiness that encompasses him, the way his pinched and stern features finally, finally relax, a special, gentle type of carefreeness seeping through the permanent mask of trepidation irrevocably sown into his strong face. It’s beautiful, mesmerizing to watch as they morph, the way his lips transform before your very eyes, from a firm, thin line into a loose, easygoing grin, sharp eyes liquefying as his lids droop a little, thin ring of sapphire outlining gaping onyx pupils, voracious in the way they observe, inhale, devour everything, blown and massive from whatever he’s high on—E or coke or acid; possibly a mixture of all three. You aren’t allowed to have any, of course, but it’s okay.
It’s okay, because as cheesy and stupid as it sounds, you’re high off of him—off his smell, spicy cinnamon and sweet campfire, laced with just a hint of Marlboros; off his taste, mint and smoke and sugar; off his touch, large hands caressing the natural curves and contours of your body, calloused fingertips rough and ragged as they drag across your soft flesh, skin pebbling with each graze.
It’s intoxicating, the way it invades your senses, overwhelms your receptors and has you yearning for more. It’s dumbfounding, the way your mind goes numb with him, infused with thoughts of DabiDabiDabi as he seeps and soaks and stitches himself into the tissues of your brain.
And you’ve never seen him more content than he is here, high out of his mind and entirely absorbed in the music, embraced in it like it’s a protective blanket, like it’s the arms of an old, treasured friend, like it’s home. Bitter acid creeps up your throat, blends with his saccharine spit ever-present and saturating your tongue, the thought that he’s only truly, genuinely, substantially happy when he’s high off his ass at a festival procuring a muted, blunt ache in the middle of your chest, dull blades that dig and burrow into your beating heart, shoved a little deeper with each bubble of laughter that escapes his lips.
Nevertheless, you can’t ever bring yourself to put an end to it, no matter how much it hurts him, hurts you both, because he looks so lovely, so elated—and you just can’t bear to take that from him, to take that from yourself.
Because he’s so fucking pretty like this, hair undone, careless and free as fluffy tufts of black bounce and sway with his movements, sticking to his temples and his neck—and he almost looks soft like this, strands of onyx hanging in his eyes and curling around his ears. Because happiness looks so good on him, so gorgeous on him, with those bright smiles that span his face, across his cheeks from ear to ear, and those stunning sapphire irises that glow with pleasure, contentment, bliss—and you wish, wish so desperately that you got to see it more often, that you had the chance to experience it without the drugs steadily coursing through his system, that they weren’t necessary, mandatory, in manufacturing these emotions.
But you’ll take what you can get. And he will, too—because you both love watching, both love feeling him this ecstatic, this relaxed, all his anguish and trauma forgotten, those chains that shackle him, that weigh him down and confine him, disintegrated by the synthetic emotions, burnt to ash just for a night or two.
And so, you aid, you help, you enable—because while you’ll take what you can get, you can’t ever get enough, either, eyes wide and unblinking as they place a pretty pink tablet stamped with a heart on his tongue, entranced by the way his lips close around your fingers and suck. And it’s so fucking hot, a rush of warmth flooding between your thighs and furling tightly in your belly. His eyes are shining as he stares at you, stuffed full of so much love it nearly hurts, and you want, you want, you want.
It isn’t long before drug induced euphoria is rushing through his veins and colliding with the constant, steady bass oozing from the speakers, vibrations travelling through the grassy earth beneath him until they reach his feet and flood his body. He tells you he can feel it in his chest, in his heart, in his very soul, seeping into his bloodstream like the sweetest poison, forcing a pleasant buzz through his limbs.
And it’s the best—it’s better than anything he’s ever felt, anything you’ve ever felt, hands roaming across bodies as music pours from the mammoth speakers, tracing soft lines and hard edges, fingers committing them to memory through touch alone; foreheads knocking together as he giggles into your mouth, as you suck his laughter from him and let it bloom in your chest, bright and buzzing and full of him, so full you feel as though you may burst; tongues dragging against one another as you both lick either side of a heart-shaped lollipop, sticky crimson candy sparkling in the waning sunlight, before he pushes his gum into your mouth, endless huffs of amusement spilling from one throat into another as you pass it back and forth—a game of sorts—smiling into the messy, slippery kisses, lips sliding and slurping and sucking.
Colourful beads embellish his arms, slender wrists and sculpted forearms peaking through the gaps, plastic droplets smacking together delicately with his movements. The brilliant colours are vibrant in contrast to his smooth skin, ivory tainted gold by the August sun, to later be painted by the lively splotches of aquamarine and lilac and lime and fuchsia as the lights dance through the night sky, spraying across the crowd.
His body glistens under the setting sun, varnished in a thin layer of sweat, gleaming droplets decorating his skin, catching in the beams and glittering like tiny diamonds. Strands of inky hair cling to his neck and white cotton hugs his torso, outlining the firm muscles of his back, the plains and contours that glide almost gracefully under scarred skin and soft fabric with each of his movements.
He’s a horrible dancer; truly, but he makes you giggle—which makes him giggle, large hands finding your waist and tugging you towards him, forehead bowed to yours again as he stares at you, cavernous pupils flitting from each of your features—your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth—with his lips slightly parted, as if he’s in awe. Tiny thumbs run over his clammy cheekbones, and his eyes close briefly with the motion, body swaying a little as he leans into you, further pressing his forehead into yours. His molars are grinding again, you can feel it, the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his jaw under soft, tender palms, and you tsk softly.
“You need another lollipop, Daddy,” you tell him, and although you’re practically shouting over the music, it feels like your whispering, wisps of your adoring voice caressing his skin, curling around him and sopping into his flesh, warming him to the core of his soul. Little fingers are pressing into the hinges of his jaw as you speak, their gentle touch instantly diffusing the tension, and he nods.
The whine that catches in his throat when you pull away is one of the sweetest, most valuable sounds you’ve ever heard, and it makes your chest flutter, eyes flicking up to look at him through your lashes with a beaming smile. He’s still leaning towards you, slowly falling forward, a magnet drawn to magnetite, and you love it, you love it, you love it.
“You look so fucking cute in your tutu, princess,” he’s chuckling as you root through your tiny bag for more candy. And you can tell he really means it, a dopey smile decorating his face, eyes shimmering with mirth, with drugs, with love.
A giggle slips past your lips, hands smooth down the tufts of tulle adorning your waist as you shyly murmur your thanks, his own smile growing. Lidded sapphires float around your body, slow and belated as they take inventory, words unhurried and sluggish as they tumble from his mouth.
“I-I should…Uh, I should put some sunscreen on my baby, sh-shouldn’t I? Don’t want your shoulders or that pretty face of yers to burn, y’know,”
You really don’t need to—the sun’s sunk halfway below the horizon by now—but you indulge him anyway, would never be able to deny him a fucking thing.
It’s fumbling, clumsy and messy in his inebriated state, but it’s still so cute, so considerate, so caring, rough hands slathering the thick cream across your skin, rubbing in awkward, blundering circles—and it sends sizzling sparks shooting through your bloodstream, alighting your entire body with a blaze that is so specifically him.
The sky turns from coral to navy all at once, and then you’re clasping onto him tightly, hugging your body to his as hands roam, as fingers tangle and tug and tow, as lips latch and lick. Salt mixes with his usual taste, tongue tingling with it as it laps at the dips of his collarbones. The sharp smell of sugar stings your nose, and you inhale deeply, face nuzzling against his damp neck. He smells sweet, like sunshine and burning hickory wood, like a summer breeze grazing freshly washed linen, carrying with it a sprinkle of cinnamon.
And you can’t stop, powerless to your urges and void of all control as you nibble at the column of his throat, as you suck the prettiest galaxies of violet and periwinkle into his flesh, as the tip of your tongue traces the jutting bones at the base of his neck, over and over and over again until they’re saturated in thick layers of your gleaming spit.
Because he’s fucking delicious, and it’s never enough—will never be enough, regardless of if you spend hours kissing, until your lungs are burning and your jaw is aching and your mouths and chins and cheeks are coated in each other’s sticky saliva.
Because you’re fucking greedy, needy, hungry, limitless in how much you desire, more and more and more.
Because even when he’s pounding into you, it still isn’t ever enough. You want to consume him the way he consumes those pretty little tablets, want to breathe him in and hold him in your chest, in your heart, in your soul, forever. Not all of him, you promise, you swear, you’ll settle with just a piece—just a piece you can carry around everywhere with you, always. It’s the worst addiction you’ve ever suffered, it’s the sweetest heaven you’ve ever felt, it’s the only semblance of home you’ve ever known—you’ll keep chasing that high he gives you forever, keep chasing him as he chases drugs, and he doesn’t mind one bit.
And eventually, eventually it becomes too much to bear, just as it does every single night, this seething desire that roars and rumbles within you, rattling the cage of your ribs as it demands more. Eventually, it has you yanking on his arm, both hands clasped around one of his, shrill begs and pleads beginning to claw their way up your throat.
Strong hands manhandle you against him, a thick thigh slotting between your own, and you whimper, burying your face against his neck. With such a large crowd, and such thunderous music, and so many people higher than the clouds, no one can tell what you’re doing; no one can tell how naughty you’re being.
He knows exactly what you need, exactly what’s got you so restless, pressing his muscled thigh into your core and chuckling at the instant moan it procures.
“Daddy,” you mewl loudly against his ear, curled fingers giving another tug on his t-shirt, cunt already grinding steadily against his thigh. “I need you,”
He snickers, the sound vibrating against you, head tilting curiously and lips molding into a cocky smirk. “You need what, baby?”
And the whine that breaks in your chest is absolutely pathetic, bottom lip jutted out into a deep pout, grinding against his thigh becoming more erratic, more urgent. You hate that he’s gonna make you say it, face crumpled up in adorable irritation—his favourite expression on you, you’re sure, his smirk growing into a grin as a growl rumbles in your chest.
“Your cock,” shimmering eyes, glazed with want that reflects the flashing lights in their glassiness, stare up at him, blinking twice in enticement. “Please?”
He hums in thought as he pretends to think, to consider, as if his leg isn’t pressing further and further into your core as you aimlessly hump it, as if his cock isn’t already hard and pressed up against your hip and throbbing through his jeans, as if he isn’t grinding against you in infinitesimal motions, little gyrations of his hips that almost feel subconscious instead of intentional—as if he can’t help himself.
“Daddy!” you squeal, barely audible over the heavy bass, eyebrows scrunched in the way they always do when you don’t get what you want. “Now!”
Normally, if he wasn’t higher than the full moon hanging in the sky and flickering stars scattered in uneven clusters around it, such a bratty request would’ve earned you a hefty punishment—something that would’ve left your skin raw, cunt abused, and completely unsatisfied—because bad girls don’t get to cum, now, do they?
But tonight it only makes him laugh harder, cooing about how fucking cute you get when you’re all needy like this, like it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever witnessed, cobalt eyes shining with delight and adoration as he laces his fingers through yours, pulling you along behind him as he weaves in and out of the sea of bodies.
But the car’s too far, you’re whining as you trail behind him, a deep pout carved into your face, eyebrows knitted so firmly they weave creases into your forehead. I can’t wait, Daddy, I can’t wait!
And it’s true—you can’t wait any longer, you need him inside of you this very instant or you’ll fucking combust—a deprived addict vying for their favourite vice; a raving, ravenous fire that burns bright and blistering in the pit of your tummy, constantly starved for him.
It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, this intense, insatiable craving; one that has your thighs clenching so tightly it’s painful, that burns through your veins and scalds the insides of your stomach, that has your blood bubbling and nerves buzzing, whole body feeling electric in his presence.
It’s a gnawing urgency, one that tears at the pit of your belly and roars in your chest, filling your ribcage until it feels like it’s about to burst, until it has you choking on botched gasps of air and his name, nails digging into his hand as you tug on his arm, pleading, begging, needing.
It’s going to devour you from the inside out if you don’t get what you want soon, if it isn’t fed with what it wants soon, expletive filth spilling from your lips in frenzied little huffs as Dabi tries in vain to drag you to the car—please, Daddy, I feel like I’m gonna die, need your cock, Daddy, need it right now, right now, right now, fill me with your cum, Daddy, I’m so empty without it; warm me with your cum, Daddy, please, please, pretty please, I can’t wait!
Such sentiments, woven together between threads of high whines and broken gasps, evoke a dark snarl ripping through his chest, his true persona cutting through the manufactured euphoria for just a moment—and then you see him, you see your Daddy, you see your home, blazing in his glassy eyes as he whirls around on you and crashes his lips to yours, large hands splayed on either side of your face, nimble fingers gripping your head so tightly it hurts.
But the pressure is welcomed, little hands pawing at his thick belt again, pathetic and desirous, and the sheer force has you stumbling backwards, feet catching on your own ankles as the two of you tumble to the ground.
“You are such a fucking brat, y’know that?” he’s nearly moaning between kisses, lips never leaving yours as he spits the words into your mouth, hips snuggling into their favourite spot between your thighs.
“You love it,”
“A spoiled little bitch,”
“Y-Your fault,” you giggle into his mouth, a large palm colliding with your ass half a second later, knocking a yelp from your throat, a pitiful little squeak that he readily swallows down.
Calloused fingers twist in the lace of your panties and he yanks, holes materializing in the delicate fabric, lithe digits hooking through them and unceremoniously jerking the ruined remains down your thighs. It’s graceless, movements inept and cumbersome in his attempt to remove them from your body, stubbornly refusing to break your kiss, hovering body supported by one hand and his knees. The material finally snaps, fingers tearing through it, like fire blazing through intricate spider webs. A whine catches in your throat and he laughs darkly, tongue lapping at your neck, your jaw, your mouth itself, drenching you in sugar-infused saliva.
Lips part immediately, eagerly, ready to greet his tongue with your own, and he huffs another chuckle into you, breath scorching as it floods the cavern of your mouth, and God, he’s got himself such a good girl, such a good slut, doesn’t he?
The words are mumbled out, slick lips gliding against yours, a little slurred and stuffed full of sticky spit as massive, rough hands run up your thighs, grabbing healthy handfuls of your flesh and squeezing.
A sharp gasp escapes from your throat, hips instinctively bucking against his from the sudden pain, and he laughs, deep and sinister and reverberating against his ribcage.
You can feel the dull thud of the music in the distance, bass burrowing its way into your chest, pulsating beat slithering through the pliant earth and oozing up through the dirt against your back. Magnificent glows of azure and amethyst blanket the festival in their embrace, bleeding into one another before they morph into and emerald and magenta, haloing the grounds and all of its inhabitants.
But all of those colours, the almost ethereal beauty of the party itself, is nothing compared to the sapphire gazing down at you, the ivory skin that almost glows against the grass and the pines and the night sky, the fluffy onyx tufts your fingers tangle in.
Teeth sink into his plush, scarred bottom lip and you suck harshly, taking it into your mouth, the tip of your tongue toying with it, laving over the supple flesh and dousing it in your saliva. A snarl clatters around in his mouth as he pulls his lip from between yours, teeth scraping against it in the process.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you’re chanting, muffled by his mouth, muddled by his tongue as it aggressively pushes against yours. “Need’a, need’a,”
The words snag in your throat, evaporating into ghosts of the sentences they were supposed to be, fading into pathetically breathy moans.
And it’s hard to think, when you’re like this, when you’re ensnared in him, consumed by his touch and smell and taste, tongue shoved so far down your throat you’re choking on it, brain gone numb—dumb—from it all, incapable of knitting together words and forming a sentence. Instead, your hand snakes between your bodies to cup his cock, a loud moan hitching in his chest as he immediately grinds against your touch.
“Want,” you mumble, groping at him and forcing a whimper from his chest. “Now, now, now,”
“So fucking needy,” he’s teasing, none of his usually heat to his voice, peppered with moans and the sweetest giggles as he rests his forehead against yours. Reaching down, two slender fingers prod your hole, giggles fading into groans as his eyes shut. “Soaked, huh?” he asks, voice strained, your head nodding almost ferociously in response. “Always drenched for me, aren’t you, my babygirl,”
But you’re too impatient to be properly prepped, to be thoroughly stretched out, impetuous legs kicking and squirming from underneath him, whining and pleading for him to just fuck you already!
They’re uncontainable, the words barreling past your lips, high and cracked and rapacious as you beg—beg for him to fill you up, to make you feel whole again, to stretch and shred and slash you to pieces, to put you back together, part by painstaking part, to complete you.
And he’s practically keening at the sentiments, hips rutting ungracefully against your soft palm, cock twitching through the denim of his jeans.
“Alright, baby, alright,” he’s hushing you, words slurred, heavy and unhurried despite his frantic actions. “Daddy’ll give you what’ya need,”
“Wanna ride,” you nearly wail, little fingers clawing desperately at his broad shoulders, fingertips sinking into his flesh through the thin cotton.
“Ch-Christ,” he nearly chokes on the curse, head nodding in choppy movements as he allows you to push the two of you over.
Because, well, baby gets what baby wants.
Or, at least, that’s what he’s telling you as you straddle him, lilt void of its normal derision, replaced with a kind of admiration.
Nails dig into the toned, smooth planes of his chest as you sink down on him, an involuntary hiss escaping gritted teeth, features scrunching in a cute wince. A hitched expletive escapes his throat, lidded eyes falling shut as his head lolls to the side, angular jaw on display.
The stretch is a welcome one, feels like home, so familiar it’s almost comforting, little cunt throbbing as you split yourself open on his cock.
Cool, refreshing air rushes into your lungs the moment he bottoms out, cockhead pressed snugly against your cervix, and that ache, that addiction, that animal tethered to the very core of your soul is immediately satiated, immense pressure deflating and the strain on your ribs easing up.
It feels perfect, feels right, feels whole, and suddenly, you’re alive again, intense sparks shocking your system as they sear through your veins, invigorated and revitalized.
It doesn’t last long though—it never does.
Because you’re just as famished, just as voracious, just as avid as that entity birthed from obsession and addiction inside of you, satisfied only for a moment before you need more.
It isn’t slow, isn’t sweet or soft, because neither of you can take that right now, neither of you need that right now. And the very moment he bottoms out, the minute you feel him nudging against your cervix, your hips begin to rock forward, rough hands finding their usual place on your hips, aiding you in your motions as he bucks up, falling into an instantaneous rhythm together
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he’s panting out, bleary eyes watching you as his words knot on his languid tongue. “Bounce on m’cock, princess, bounce on it,”
The earth is firm beneath your knees, but you can still feel those faint vibrations travelling though the dirt. Blades of grass tangle themselves in inky tufts as his head falls back, neck arching, jade strands in a sea of black.
He’s so much louder when he’s this high, deep guttural groans rumbling in his chest, broken whines catching in his throat, growled out curses tumbling from his saliva slicked lips. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth, dribbling down his chin, and you long to lick it up.
“You always look so pretty, s-so perfect taking my cock,” he’s babbling, voice soaked in awe, pupils blown and shimmering as they gobble up your reactions, your expressions—every little sound emitted from your throat, ripped raw and wrecked from the column; every little twitch of your features, the way your lashes flutter and eyes roll back with each roll of his hips; every little shake and shiver and shudder, tiny jolts of electricity, of him, exploding through your veins—calloused hands sliding up and down your thighs in a clumsy caress. “F-Fuck, princess, so gorgeous,”
You should be quiet—really, you should both be quiet, fucking in an open field and committing such a heinous act of public indecency.
But you’re powerless to stop the mewls and cries from prying past your lips, and he’s hopeless to quell the steady stream of words flowing from his own, increasing in pitch and frequency with each gyrate forward, with each rut and rub and grind of your hips.
“Feel good, Da-Daddy?”
And he’ll never understand how you sound so fucking sweet, so fucking precious, as obscene words flow from those pretty lips, punched out of your chest with each rock of your hips, core of your body intimately skewered by him.
He doesn’t answer, can’t answer, words dissolving into a fractured moan as he nods vigorously.
“Want you to cum, D-Daddy—ah—fill me up, please,”
The grin that splits his face is nothing short of spectacular—it’s nothing like those sharp smiles he gives his enemies, or those smug little grins he gifts his friends, or those tiny lopsided smirks that grace his lips when he’s teasing. No, this smile—this smile is only for you; a gentle quirk of his lips, parted just enough to see those gleaming pearly teeth, fluid as it stretches and wobbles with his ragged pants and snapping hips. It’s almost overwhelming, the emotion pouring from that single, simple action alone, has your chest stuttering and eyes blurring, knowing that this is something special, that this is something that is yours and yours alone. And this smile—this smile is genuine, true happiness. This smile cuts through all of the drugs and anguish and rage, shining bright and beautiful as it beams up at you.
And he’s so fucking breathtaking—striking sapphires and stunning smile more spectacular than any piece of art you’ve ever seen, the combined melody of deep grunts and trembling groans rattling around behind his ribs better than any piece of music you’ve ever heard, endless words streaming from his swollen ruby lips lovelier than any piece of fine literature you’ve ever read.
He’s walking art, talking art, living, breathing, feeling art—and he’s all yours.
You’ll never get used to this, you swear to God. Such amazement will never cease, makes fucking him a religious experience every single time, always so astoundingly exquisite. You’ll never get used to the way those dark growls claw their way up his throat, vibrating in the column. You’ll never get used to the way your name sounds on his tongue when he’s just about to cum, all pitchy and broken and punctured by hitched breaths. You’ll never get used to the way his thick eyelashes flutter, unfocused eyes rolling in his skull just a little—never fully enough to hide that brilliant sapphire from you—right before he stuffs you full of hot sticky seed.
And you never want to.
This is your favourite part, has always been your favourite part, will always be your favourite part, every single time. It’s terribly selfish of you—you know it is, know it’s awful and greedy and so, so obsessive—but you love it, love it as much as he loves the drugs and the music and the ostentatious lights.
Because he clings to you when he’s coming down, nuzzles his face into your very touch, practically purrs out his admiration for you as you pat his damp face down with an old t-shirt, brushing back the stringy strands of sweat-drenched hair from his forehead.
Because you’re his protection when he’s coming down, swathing him in your love, in your gentle caresses and your tender venerations—his very own guardian angel, keeping him from plummeting into the concrete and shattering into a million pieces, cradling him in your soft wings as you ease his feet back onto this earth.
Usually it’s scary, he’s telling you that night in the backseat of his car, eyes still glazed, breathing slow and shallow. Or, it was. It was scary, coming down without you—but not anymore. Because you’re here now. You’re here with him, and you take such good care of him, and he loves you, he loves you so much, he loves you more than anything on this planet—or any others.
He used to feel nervous, he’s babbling on as tiny fingers press into tight, coiled muscles, rubbing the tension out of them in small circles. Used to have memories… he trails off then, and you don’t push, never push, just humming your acknowledgement softly, whispered affirmations falling from your lips as palms smooth over his cheeks before caressing his hair, pulling mewls from his throat as he arches into your touch.
Bleary sapphires stare up at you, glittering in the dim light flittering through his car windows from the flickering lamp posts. He’s tired, he tells you suddenly, face somber, sober, but he can’t sleep.
“I know,” you murmur, petting his hair again. “Just try to relax,”
He is trying, he promises, vigorously nodding up at you, eyes wide as if they’re imploring you to understand.
But words keep spilling from his mouth—involuntary, automatic, reflexive—unfocused eyes staring up at the roof, then darting around the car slowly, distractedly, like there’s a million other thoughts surging through his mind—you can see them, swimming in his eyes, tainted with paranoia, with fear, even though there’s a steady stream of presumably unrelated words flowing from his throat.
He talks about anything, everything, nothing—all at once. He tells you about the festival as if you weren’t there, and you let him ramble, unable to stifle the small smile that forms on your lips. Because it’s cute, and he’s still so excited. He tells you how pretty you look, tells you about how good you ride his cock, how irresistible your cunt is, how much he loves stuffing it with his cum.
And throughout it all you nod and hum and coo, just like you always do, just like you always will.
And it’s nights such as these, at four and five in the morning right before the sun begins to creep over the horizon, navy sky fading into a faint amber glow the only indication that it’s coming—that you are careless with your words, that you are more honest than ever before, because you know he won’t remember it—or, if he does, he won’t bring it up until he’s high like this again.
Because his being high provides this limbo, this purgatory for the both of you to be open and raw and vulnerable under the guise of drugs, with the knowledge that you can always backtrack, always claim not to remember or that you said no such thing, if you ever need to.
You don’t ever need to, but the option’s there nonetheless, like a buffer of sorts—a buffer for him to be raw and real, a buffer for you to be less cautious, to be more reckless and let the words stream from your lips without fear of consequence or punishment; a shield for both of you to use against such susceptibility.
It’s become an unspoken agreement between the two of you, a pass. And that’s what makes these nights the best.
And you will always consider yourself one of the lucky ones, one of the privileged few that are allowed, permitted, approved to experience him like this—to watch that well-worn mask of apathy melt from his face as drug-laced happiness bleeds and burns through it.
It hurts, sends sharp spears searing through your chest, embedding themselves in the depths of your fucking soul, because you can only imagine what true happiness would look like on him.
Maybe it would be too much, you want to trick yourself into believing, desperate to find excuses for the drugs and the artificial euphoria, to sanction this type of behaviour. Maybe he would be too beautiful, too bright, too brilliant if he were truly happy—maybe he would burn out too quickly, if he were too happy, like a shooting star that flies across the indigo sky, sparkling and sizzling and stark in it’s stunning, gorgeous and ethereal and much too short lived as it fizzles out into nothing, into darkness and emptiness, only a moment later—gone forever.
And you suppose, if that were to be the case, that you could selfishly accept this fate—if only to keep him here with you for just a little bit longer. You could help him shoulder the crushing weight of that torture, that agony, that suffering that he’s constantly carrying, spine straining under it, if it means that you get to be with him for more, for longer, for eternity. You could handle that, if it means you get to be greedy, if it means that you get to have him, on this earth, living and breathing and beside you.
Still, you hope, very much so, deep down at the bottom of your heart, that he will one day find that true, genuine, sincere happiness that he deserves—and that it will stick, not just for a moment, for a few fleeting seconds, but for a while, for forever.
He’s quiet when you tell him this. He probably won’t remember it come morning, too high to remember much of anything, but he’s so honest when he’s like this, fucked up out of his mind, and words leak from his lips without his permission as he tells you, grave and serious, that he has…in you.
And you suppose…You suppose he’s right; happiness isn’t exactly a person, or a place, or an object—happiness is a sentiment, an experience, a collection of memories, adventures, evocations.
“Happiness is...it’s when I’m with you,”
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Spill the tea on Cancer risings boo💞⚡
I gotchu love! Friendly warning I'm on a roll today so I won't hold back😋 I know way too many Cancer Risings irl for me to be gentle HAHAHA, lets get into it!!!<3
Cancer Rising/ Moon aspecting the Ascendant
Read more about my rising sign series here
First and foremost, please tell me how do you have that big of a heart please? Like someone could hurt you BAD but all they need is some convincing and persuasion and you'll forgive them within 5-9 business days (doesn't mean yall forget though😄)With the Moon being present in the first house here, theres no wonder as to why these people are so so emotionally intelligent!!
Cancer Rising people I know are not at all trusting like they look. They usually look spectacular in sundresses or ones that hold their curves tight<3(yes both men&women what ya gonna do about it). They also possess a really recognizable face shape!! For the men I noticed that they tend to be really attractive to women/are a heartbreaker (surprise!) and they tend to be very funny and have a childlike sense of ✨charm✨ to them. Their smiles are hella beautiful and these men along with Sag Rising men give off the most rounded and laidback vibe in my opinion🥳 The women with Cancer Rising have gorgeous stomach/boobs!!! Cancer rules these two body parts and then blessed the natives with such curves too sksksks I'm so jealous help-
Saying it one more time for the people in the back. THEIR SMILES. HOLY SHIT THEIR SMILES!!!!! Maybe because of my cancer placements, I have such huge crushes on these people. I also notice that when they smile, their eyes also curve like the crescent moon 🌙 in reverse haha and they tend to have really nice skin!! esp when they pass the puberty stage their skin really glow and are hella smooth. Model placements I'm not gonna lie all of my Cancer Rising friends model (2H Leo)
This is so shallow I shouldn't be like this sksksk but one more point to Cancer Rising for being the hottest people on earth alongside Virgo Rising, Aries Rising and Capricorn Rising💀 Guys I'm literally blushing y'all don't know how beautiful you guys are. Can be so so insecure of their appearance and very similar to Virgo Rising, won't let any dummie see them unprepared. ALSO have a beautiful face with and without makeup. Their features are very full. Big, doe eyes with nice eyelashes and eyebrows. A lips thats really well-shaped and ofcourse, their signature glow(?!) Idk how to explain this but look. Leo Rising has this golden shiny layer to us and our look like the Sun. And similarly, Cancer Rising has a warm layer of moonlight tint on their body too. SO SO ETHEREAL.
Angelic. Both their minds and their heart. Unless there are really bad aspects to the Moon they tend to have the biggest heart EVER. I tried to find a reasoning in their chart and perhaps its because of their Aquarius 8H, the desire (8H) to be giving and humanitarian is insane. I get really mad when my Cancer Risings do this tbh, its like they're asking to be used by shady people yall. But also they're one of a few that can truly warm my cold dead black heart😀💀 A Cancer Rising, who I just met for 6 months and I were having a deep conversation regarding a philosophical idea and she held my hands, looked me in the eyes and said "Bro. I would honestly die for my friends. If you need my kidney, I would give it to you without you asking" And my Gemini Mercury detached ass was put on the spot so I was like 😃Oh.. I think I'm good but thank you, just don't tell anyone this okay like in the long run its not good💀 Stop giving out so much love y'all i- sklssk
With their 5H in Scorpio, they may come off very serious without meaning too and they do search for fun relationships when single but once they settled down its done deal. They're so sexual and intense tbh and you didn't hear this from me but these mf are so ✨kinky✨ Who said that Cancer Risings are soft bottoms need to come and talk to me lol. Like ya they will say it like that but only in private will they show you how crazy they are. I never met a single Cancer Risings women that doesn't secretly love the power trip of being on top<3
Very very self-aware. They know their strengths and weaknesses more than anyone and they might not necessarily owe up to it at first (or when they're being defensive just stfu and leave the room so they don't blow up pls) but will always admit to it at the end. they knows rights and wrongs perhaps better than anyone. Feels bad for everyone and everything its like all they do is vibe and feel and vibe&feel more LOL
My go-to gossip bestie. Mind telling me how you know everything teeny tiny thing about everyone?🤣 People come to them with informations and they never really have to do anything but ask. Trust me your Cancer Rising friends aren't that innocent, they are hella ✨scary✨ and the information and gossips they have on you probably build a picture in their head about you already, but will always give you a chance and get to know you better. They adapt well too lowkey high maintenance but won't tell anyone but their closest. With that Gemini in 12H, they have a deep need to know things and learn things but they make it so casual like would literally be reading your entire phone convo while sitting next to you but so so smooth with it they look unfazed HAHAHAHAH
Highkey? Already made up their minds whether or not they trust you. Don't get them wrong, they're very sociable individuals, the Moon afterwards do represent the people. Have a lil connects here and there all the time but when it boils down to absolute trust, 5 fingers are still a lil too much for them🤣 Their friends must be loyal, trustworthy and supportive of them. Other than that they can't give two fuck about what their friends are doing. Also they like people who are very different from them:) They like friends who are different and unique and are not afraid to be honest, they also love confidence people who offer them comfort.
They want to be rich and they probably will be. Smart with their finance and have really good connects with people✨
Cry when you cry type. Hold your hands tight and keep saying sorry when they think they did something wrong. Seeing them cry is the most heartbreaking thing ever cause they look like sad angels bro my heart can't take dat🥺 But seeing them mad is AHHAAHHAAH, not fun. They give you the dead stare and starts saying MEAN stuff LOL. Will be plotting a 20 page long plan against you and turn everyone against you. Run now.
They can be so successful just by being themselves. Once they grow more confidence, they can really make money off by walking into the spotlights whether thats acting or singing or modeling, anything that's artistic will help these people make a fortune (Leo 2H)
Alsoooo will be very famous for their aesthetics and personal style!!!! 2H is a Venusian house after all:)
Smart. Very very educated people! They may come from a pretty educated & well off family and could have been the favourite child🤣 They receive a lot of admiration and care as a kid so they need a lot of it growing up:)
FUN FACT: The moon also rules over brain so a lot of them could have been really rly smart as a kid and continually to become even more ambitious as they grow. Complain about their workload all the time and would get 100 everytime wtf💀
Love-hate relationship with siblings. Their siblings could have been very critical of them or they could have yet both parties know they mean well. A pretty educational relationship i would say HAHAHA
Very quick to say thank you and sorry. Amazing manners tbh they will win your parents over in the blink of an eye🪐
Their relationship with their family is interesting. May seem rly close to them but they don't necessarily tell them everything. Its also very possible that women with Cancer Rising look a lot like their mom! They got the best features from that side and people might tell them how they look like their mom's little version😋 Their mothers/mother figure could have been very encouraging of them stay true to themselves and become socially conscious:) Also could have played instruments when they were younger really well or was deeply connected to the art! (painting, singing)
Also I don't think this is any news but why does every Cancer Risings I've met party so hard?💀Guys AND girls too omfg. Give them a bottle of tequila and they can down it fastttttt. Also they're heavy-weights and can handle their alcohol pretty well!!! A lot of them are surprisingly experimental people?💀💀 You wouldn't expect it since they look so innocent but lemme tell you, that 5H Scorpio is working overtime HAHAHAHAH. Name anything and I wouldn't be surprised if they had already done it (ESPECIALLY WITH A MAJOR AQUA INFLUENCE OR SCORPIO/PISCES INFLUENCE)
Um respectfully they have a lot of options and they know that so like if y'all can't provide them a future or stability and warmth, leave the line☺️ LMAO i've never met a cancer rising thats down to date someone for a short period of time. They're aiming for the long run baby. Its hoeing around or being on a boeing to the bahamas with their hubby, no in between. (Capricorn 7H)
Despite what people think, while they are so so emotional, they're also extremely rational and realistic. They may have fantasies and dreams but they would never share it to anyone. A lot of them enjoy a good challenge and are actually SERIOUSLY competitive lol especially when it comes to love and work!!!
I will never ever dare to say a word when these people are mad💀💀💀 My mars-jupiter will shut up and not dare to even make a joke cuz im too scared of their tantrum. Yes they would sit down and talk to you and make GREAT points but no, if you don't take it well and y'all start to shout watch them leave the room asap and soam the mf door in your face so they can "cool off" LOL. Their silence is deadly.
They don't like arguing with people too often and deep down, these people all have a hidden insecurity despite their laidback front. So when you argue with them, be mindful of this, because they will nice until you touch that one spot. And then they will go psycho.
The type to be quite charitable and socially conscious! They're deeply aware of everything and are very witty people. However, in sex they need a lot of consistency and commitment. They like to change it up now and then too, very experimental. Oh Honestly? I have to stress how significant it is for them to either settle down for years or currently messaging 10 guys and have 2 dates in a day. They love that taste of power😄
My Cancer Risings friends bring me home everytime I'm with them. Even though they might make fun of me as I'm drunk throwing up on the floor, they will still make sure I'm safe at the end of the day. The anxiety these people have for their loved ones is crazyyyyyy
Also they get attached FAST, especially with people that opened up to them so they decided its time to share something too LOL.
They like confidence people a lot, people who know when and how to take the lead but also people who are childish and very charming!!! These individuals will meet great people in this life where they'd be guided by these combative individuals towards their path. Should work in something that encourages independence and passion.
So possessive and i thought i was all that 😄I have 2 Cancer Rising friends that I had to have a separate talk with before we meet because they were both so TERRITORIAL💀💀 omg i'm so tired yall like the attention is fun but no pls no more. Ahh also they're extra sensitive and daring in relationships tho. If you try to touch their men, they will push you in a mf oven and cook you alive boo stay away ahahahahajaha😋😋
FUNNY. I HATE HOW THEY DONT EVEN BOTHER TO HIDE THEIR DEGRADING SENSE OF HUMOUR. so so sarcastic and mean when they make fun of you so they only do it to their close friends. Also very very touchy with loved ones:)
"I don't care" - they do. Thats about it.
Attract so so sooo much drama and there are usually so many rumours about them like i'm sorry when did you hear that I had a threesome again wtf😀😀😀
Get less and less sassy as they age. When younger could have lowkey been a ✨bully✨ or they always have people that would back them up.
Lose friends all the time. I notice how this is one of the reason a lot of Cancer Risings stop putting too much attention finding new people. People disappoint them so often and they get used so much they're tired now yall cool it😭😭
Mean girl vibes. Lowkey tho like I said they know everything so dont fw them guys😄 They already have something against you don't add to it AHAHAHAHA jk
Also, they love to be confided in. Absolutely adore it when someone gives them 100% affection and attention if its 20% then they don't wanna🥳 Believe in marriage too cuz they can be very traditional people.
Vibe really well with kids and animals. Babies LOVE them and they really want a family of their own in the future.
Soft spot for Cancer/Capricorn placements😈 My Cancer Risings friends lowkey love me a lil too much hehehe
Omg I forgot to mention but Cancer Rising women tend to be ADORED by their dad/parental figure!! They could have been spoiled a bit too🤣
Crying. Crying and more crying✨ My Cancer Rising friends during her emo moments turn off all her lights and send me a picture of her face with tears down her cheeks and I gasped HAHAHAHAHAHAHA IM SO SORRY BUT LIKE SHE GOT EMOTIONAL BC HER MAN IGNORES HER MESSAGE FOR AN HOUR I- HAHAHAHAHA
Patience. So so much patience with people:) They also like to be the saviour yall their saviour complex is bad BAD. Omg that feeling when you change someone for the better 🥵 am i right💀
Gosh so thats a wrap y'all 🥳🥳🥳 I finally released my Cancer Rising post and I'm so so happy HAHAHAHA!!! I really want to spill more tea for you guys but my friends read my blog daily now so perhaps another time;) lmfao but tysm for asking luv!! I hope this quench your thirst for knowledge 😆
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“I THOUGHT THIS WAS WHAT YOU WANTED”
James raised an eyebrow. “Do you seriously want to do this?”
Lilly grinned and elbowed him lightly, her hair tickling the side of his face. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!” she wheedled, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
“They’ll see through it. I’m a terrible liar.”
“And I’m practically an actress. It’ll work, come on!” she begged.
James sighed, and tried to keep his cool.
Tried—because inside, he was falling to pieces.
He wasn’t a terrible liar. Not by a long shot. He was so good at it, in fact, that he had all of them fooled.
They were convinced he didn’t like her anymore. That Lily Evans was a Potter-phase long past, that she was nothing to him but a friend.
But that was all utter bullshit.
James Potter loved Lily Evans. And, for all he knew, he would love her for a long while yet.
“So, what? We tell them all we’re dating?”
This was going to kill him. Literally kill him.
“Well, Sirius jokes about it once a week, and Mary is convinced it’ll happen at some point,” she said.
‘She is?’ James thought, feeling heat creep up his face.
“It won’t be hard to convince them,” Lily continued, eyes shining with a mischievous light.
She twirled a lock of red hair around her finger—she did that when she was deep in thought. She bit her lip, and her copper-brown eyebrows dipped in a little frown.
James couldn’t help but feel his stomach flip. He turned his eyes away.
“Okay, I have a plan,” she declared, throwing copper sheets of hair back imperiously. “Follow my lead—alright, Potter?”
“I still can’t believe it finally happened,” Marlene announced, with an ear-to-ear grin. She was absent-mindedly running her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair. Dorcas had her eyes half-closed, her head laying in Marlene’s lap, as she watched Lily from under her lashes like a sleepy pussycat.
Lily looked on as James Potter’s messy-haired head disappeared up the stairs to the dormitories.
She didn’t know how much longer they would keep this masquerade going. Potter seemed completely comfortable with it, and, to be honest, she didn’t hate it either. They’d spent a perfect, fake-date evening by the lake, watching a spectacular sunset bleed onto the water’s glossed surface.
It had all felt, she mused, very romantic.
That thought scared Lily.
This was a joke—that was all it had ever been. A freaking joke.
When they had slipped the news to their friends a fortnight ago, she’d had difficulty stifling her giggles at the stupid grin that had split Sirius Black’s face. Mary’s squeak of delight had made her snort, and Remus’ look of sheer surprise had nearly left her in hysterics.
But now… it felt all too real.
When Potter walked her to class, when he put an arm around her waist and drew her close—shyly at first, but more confidently now he knew she didn’t mind it—when they traipsed across the grounds on chaotic fake-dates that nearly always lead to laughter-induced stitches… when all that happened, it didn’t feel like a game to Lily.
No, it felt scarily real. And worst of all… she found herself liking it. So much so, in fact, that she wondered whether… whether someday, they could…
But no, she could never. Not with Potter. Not with James bloody Potter.
He might be maturer this year. He might be more responsible, and more studious in class. He might finally be showing his true genius in study sessions, instead of wasting it on (nevertheless ingenious) pranking shenanigans. He might have gotten taller too, and he might have stopped ruffling his hair in that infuriating way of his and let it sit in its natural, messy elegance…
But he was still Potter. James Potter.
“You two are perfect for each other.” Mary’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“You think?” she mumbled, morosely.
“Think?” Dorcas gave a sleep laugh. Her eyelids flickered open, and fixed Lily with a sceptical glare. “You two are adorable. Whole school’s saying it. I don’t know what took you idiots this long, to be honest.”
There was a hard weight at the bottom of Lily’s stomach.
Her mind slipped back to James Potter—
And that hard weight transfigured into a flock of frenzied butterfly, taking flight.
The way he chewed on his lower lip when he was nervous—like before an exam, or a Quidditch game.
The way his eyes practically shone when he laughed.
The way his glasses slipped down his nose, the way he unconsciously pushed them up every few seconds.
The way he’d go to do the same thing, even when he wasn’t wearing his glasses—purely out of habit.
Lily felt a little dizzy.
I think… oh, for God’s sake…
I think I’m in love with James Freaking Potter.
Lilly got to her feet. She’d made a decision.
Lily caught James unawares.
He was stretched out on the dormitory floor, labouring on a DADA essay with the others. Whatever way Moony tried to explain it, he was just not getting the hang of disillusionment charms.
Well, not that it mattered. He always had the Cloak for Order missions, and that was really what this magic-learning was for, right? To fight the bloody war?
Between Voldemort, his NEWTs and Lily Evans, there was too much on his mind these days.
James was on the verge of a splitting headache when Lily poked her head in and asked to see him in private— so he was happy to oblige her. Not that he would ever refuse her, of course.
“You two have fun,” Pads said, shooting James a sly look as he dropped his quill and got to his feet.
A cold fist gave his heart a tight squeeze.
If only it were like that.
No, Lily was probably calling him aside for something mundane—head boy duties… or, worse, about their stupid date-prank.
Not that he didn’t enjoy at least pretending to be Hers… but it hurt, every time, knowing that they were nothing more than a beautiful lie.
When he joined her outside their dorm, James had made up his mind.
This would be the final scene. The play, this heartrending little game, it was over.
“Evans, I have to talk to you—” he mumbled, as he closed the door behind them.
“I have to talk to you, too,” she said, sounding oddly breathless.
James gave her a quick scrutinising up-down, feeling a little alarmed at her breathlessness. Lily didn’t seem particularly panicked, though. It didn’t seem like anything was wrong, per say. But there was definitely something… off.
James had known her a while, but he had never seen Lily Evans look like… this. Her eyes were shining —but not with that sense of adventure—her cheeks were red—but not because she was tired or embarrassed—and one hand was furiously fiddling with the ends of her hair—but it didn’t look as if she were deep in thought, more distracted.
“You go first,” he said.
“You know what, not that important. In fact, it’s all a little bit silly.” Lily flashed James the smallest, shyest smile she’d ever given him. That puzzled him all the more. “You go first,” she insisted.
Well, his mother did always say bad news was best getting over quickly.
James took a deep breath. “Evans, I’m sorry. This little, fake-dating game? I can’t do it anymore.”
“What?” The hand that had been fiddling at her hair fell to her side. Lily went stock-still, her eyes widening, as if he’d doused her with an icy bucket of water. He’d actually done that to her in third-year, and she looked exactly as she had then. “What do you mean? Why?” she pressed.
He didn’t know how to explain himself, not without telling the truth. James scrambled for a reason.
“Lily, I think… I think we should just give this up—before, you know, the others get too invested or anything. You know…” he finished, lamely.
“What?” Lily looked sceptical. “That doesn’t make any sense. That’s bullshit.”
James hesitated, trying to find a way to defend himself. The search came out empty-handed, and he resigned himself to the truth. “Yes, it is,” he mumbled, having an awfully hard time looking Lily Evans in the eye.
“So, what’s the truth?”
James sighed. He took his glasses off, nervously cleaned them on his cloak, and slipped them back on. He ran his fingers through his hair—stopped himself—then shifted his weight from foot to foot.
Meanwhile, his mind was just as active, struggling to find a way to word that tumult of emotion pounding through him.
“Evans, I… I just… I don’t like this. I hate this. It makes me… it hurts me—having to play this stupid game, live this lie. It feels terrible. Everyday. It hurts, Lily.
Her eyes were shining brighter. “James…” she whispered, “I thought—I thought you were okay with this. I thought this was what you wanted.”
“It is.” James took a step closer. “Just not like this.”
He saw her freeze. Her mouth fell open, pink lips parting to a perfect little ‘O’.
She took a step towards him. The smallest step, like an unsure little stumble, her eyes terrified and eager all at once. “Why?” she mumbled, “Why does it hurt you?”
Lily took another step. A little surer, now. “No, I don’t.”
“You’re going to make me say it? Really?”
“I am, Potter.”
He took a deep breath. “Lily Evans. I love you.”
“You said that that was over,” she mumbled. “You said you hadn’t—not in the longest time.”
“I thought so. But it wasn’t over. So I hid it, because I thought I could manage it. But then… this came up. And it hurt, doing this. But, you know what? I liked it too. I’m pathetic, aren’t I? The only way I could get you to love me was for the love to be a lie—so I resigned myself to the lie and told myself to just enjoy that. Because that was the best I was ever going to get.”
Lily seemed to have frozen once again. James was struck once again by the similarity between this Lily and third-year ‘I-just-got-drenched-by-a-bucket-of-icy-lake-water-by-a-band-of-pranking-hooligans’ Lily. He had the absurd urge to laugh.
James clenched his jaw, then clenched his fists. Then he heaved a sigh and let everything come lose, hanging his head, gaze drawn down to his toes.
“But I… look, I… I’m so sorry… and I understand if you don’t want to, you know, be friends anymore.”
She remained silent.
“Do you?” James asked, meekly.
“No,” she said.
He had thought he was falling to pieces for the past week—but no. This was what it felt like to truly fall apart, to feel your world get pulled out from underneath you until you were just falling, falling…
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “You’re a great friend.”
Lily took a deep breath. “I… I don’t think we can be friends anymore… because, well…”
She moved so suddenly, James could hardly react, hardly prepare himself, hardly do anything at all.
He was pretty sure he blacked out for the next few seconds.
He certainly didn’t process what had happened until Lily Evans drew away, her face even more flushed, her breathing even harder.
James raised two fingers to his lips. “Did you just—?”
She smiled. “Is that what you want, then?”
“Yes,” he whispered, “Yes, yes, yes.”
Lily raised an eyebrow. “A thousand times yes?”
“A thousand times yes,” he said, in absolute sobriety.
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Nesta Archeron x Cassian - Trick or Treating
While Nesta is handing out candy on Halloween, Cassian shows up with a little extra help to ask her out.
Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection
“Trick or treat!” A chorus of small voices yelled as soon as Nesta opened the door.
She plastered on a smile that was more of a grimace, and grabbed a handful of candy from the bowl so she could hand out chocolates to the group of children dressed up in costumes on her front porch.
The leaves on the trees had turned a dark red, creating a crimson canopy over the street. In the dim light of the jack-o-lanterns it almost appeared to be dripping blood which Nesta saw as perfectly fitting for Halloween.
As soon as the last kid turned around, she shut the door and leaning back against it, rubbing a hand down her face as she flung her tall, pointed hat onto the couch.
A rush of movement made her open her eyes to see Feyre run down the stairs and hastily throw open the closet door to grab her jacket that she attempted to put on while simultaneously tying her shoes. It wasn’t very effective.
“Nesta, hey,” Feyre said startled and wide-eyed, trying to keep her breathing steady as she inched towards the door. “You’re here.”
Holding in her smirk, Nesta raised a brow at her youngest sister who was obviously trying to look nonchalant as she attempted to flee their house.
“I am here. You told me you wouldn’t be because you had some…” Nesta trailed off, feigning forgetfulness as Feyre sputtered for a response.
“Studying! I have important studying to do tonight, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going.”
Nesta didn’t hold back her eye roll this time, “Studying? It’s Halloween and it’s a Friday night.”
Feyre ignored her, but Nesta could see a faint blush creep up her face as she rushed out the door. “Bye! Have fun with the candy.”
When Elain had insisted someone had to be at the home they shared to hand out candy for trick-or-treaters, Nesta was less than thrilled. Feyre immediately claimed she couldn’t do it, and Elain then said she and her boyfriend, Lucien, had been invited to his family’s party. Which meant that it fell on Nesta to put on the costume and stand around handing out candy to sugar-filled children. When she rolled her eyes and asked why they couldn’t just leave a bowl of candy out on the porch, Elain claimed only lazy neighbors do that.
It wasn’t that Nesta disliked Halloween—she adored it, really. It wasn’t even all the kids because she liked that too; sometimes the costumes were downright spectacular. No, her disdain came more from the forced cheerfulness she had to exude every single time she opened the door. It was exhausting.
The first half-hour hadn’t been so bad, but then the sun finally went down, and all the kids came out in force. It felt like she hardly got a minute or two of reprieve before she had to put her witch’s hat back on and coerce a smile when all she wanted to do was fling herself on the couch, turn on some cheesy, steamy movie, and have a glass of wine.
The doorbell rang again and Nesta groaned as she reached for the hat she’d tossed aside earlier before opening the door. She wasn’t expecting who she saw, but she supposed she shouldn’t have been so surprised.
A large, overgrown bat stood on her front porch, taking up almost the entire front steps. A tall, tan, and tattooed, overgrown bat with a shit eating grin.
“Cassian,” Nesta leveled an unimpressed look at him as he climbed the steps. “Aren’t you a little old to be trick-or-treating?”
She took in his all-black attire from the worn black boots and black jeans to his black t-shirt stretched over his chest and his black leather jacket. All pulled together by the large, plastic black bat wings that sprouted from his shoulders. She could just make out the thin elastic straps around his shoulders holding the wings on.
“Not excited to see me, Nes?” he grinned impossibly wider. “And who says you’re ever too old to go trick-or-treating?”
Nesta arched a brow, trying her best to look unimpressed until she spotted a second, smaller pair of wings peeking out from behind his legs.
She looked down to a see a young girl, maybe six or seven, with long, black hair and violet eyes. She wasn’t hiding or huddled behind Cassian, but he was so large that it appeared so. That is, until she stepped out from behind him and pushed her way up the step. She was dressed similarly to Cassian with an all-black ensemble and plastic bat wings that looked almost as tall as her.
“Trick or treat!” she grinned widely, not sparing her apparent guardian a second glance.
At Cassian’s exaggerated annoyance and the little girl’s eye roll, Nesta chuckled and held out the candy bowl so the little bat could grab what she wanted.
“Who’s this?” Nesta directed the question to Cassian seeing as the girl was too enthralled with the candy she’d just picked.
Cassian grinned and ruffled the girl’s hair, causing her to laugh at him and duck out of the way. “This baby bat is Seraphina,” when she glared at him, he chuckled and corrected, “Ser, sorry. She’s Rhys’s little sister.”
“Rhys was supposed to take me out trick or treating this year, but he said he had to study.” Ser said.
Nesta’s brows flew up as she looked at Cassian who was smirking. “Study? Really?”
Cassian smirked even wider, “What, Nes, you think Rhysie isn’t actually studying?” he asked with mock surprise, quiet enough not to draw his sister’s attention
She snorted and rolled her eyes, “Not unless Study is code for hooking up with my sister, which I’m certain it is.”
Cassian tossed his head back and laughed loudly and Nesta tried her best not to smile at the sound of it, but she got her expression under control before he looked back at her.
“Wait a second,” Nesta crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Cassian who didn’t balk from her glare. “You all live on the other side of town, why are you two here? Aren’t the fancy houses with the good candy over there?”
Cassian rubbed the back of his neck looking sheepish before regaining his smug attitude, “Aw, you know where we live? I think you’re a little obsessed with me.” His wide grin was maddening.
Rolling her eyes again, she scowled, “I’ve picked Feyre up from a study session once or twice. I know that it's almost twenty minutes to drive from there to here.”
“We’re here,” Ser’s voice cut in, “because Cass is desperate, and in love with you.” She said it casually, looking a cross between annoyed and disgusted.
Nesta’s brows flew to her hairline as Cassian gaped at the little girl before he stammered, “I—, that’s not—, Phina—, I mean—, what she meant was—, Fuck—, Nesta—"
Maybe it was because she’d never seen Cassian so flustered, looking like a deer caught in headlights and genuinely apologetic and stunned, but Nesta surprised them all as she laughed.
“Is that so?” Nesta leaned against her door and looked at the girl for answers, ignoring that surprised look that crossed Cassian face. He probably expected her to yell at him or slam the door in his face or call him an insufferable brute as she often liked to. He wasn’t expecting the small smile that tugged at her lips.
“Mhmm,” she nodded rapidly, shaking the wings strapped to her back, “He said that if we came here and I helped him then he would buy me a caramel apple because he knows those are my favorite.”
Nesta’s eyebrows were still high as she glanced at Cassian before the little girl plowed on.
“And,” Ser stepped closer to Nesta but whispered loudly enough so Cassian could hear, “I told him that if he needed my help to get a date then she was probably too smart and too pretty for him anyways.”
Nesta snorted loudly. Cassian pretend growled and swooped down to lift the little girl up and toss her over his shoulder. She was giggling and it only got louder as he proceeded to tickle her, “You think that’s funny?” he asked, keeping up his attack, “I confide in you and you go ahead and call me out in front of the pretty lady?”
Nesta knew Cassian was a big softie despite his size and roughened appearance, but she’d never seen him like this. He grinned but feigned betrayal as he hoisted Seraphina over his shoulder to carefully set her back on her feet.
Nesta didn’t hide her smile at the sight.
Once the two bats had calmed down, Cassian caught her eyes before nudging Ser’s shoulder and giving her an encouraging nod. The girl just rolled her eyes but took a deep breath and readied herself for what Nesta could only predict was some rousing speech.
She cleared her throat and looked up at Nesta with her best sweetheart eyes, “Nesta Archeron,” she began and Nesta snuck a glance to see Cassian watching the little girl while mouthing along to the words she spoke, obviously having coached her on what exactly to say. Nesta found it charming but reigned in a smile as she refocused in the girl in front of her.
“Will you allow Cassian the honor of taking you out on a date? He’s really nice, he’ll make you laugh, and he,” he paused and furrowed her brows, “he, uh…” she turned towards him and gestured for him to come closer.
Cassian quickly leaned down and whispered something into Ser’s ear that caused her to roll her eyes and scrunch her nose is disgust, before standing back up and allowing the girl to continue.
She sighed, still looking grossed out about what she had to say, “And he knows you think his butt is cute.”
Nesta choked on a laugh which seemed to stoke Cassian’s grin, but Ser wasn’t finished.
“If you say yes, Cass promised me a caramel apple.”
Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation but Nesta grinned, far too amused with his annoyance. Huh, maybe this is how he felt every time she huffed away at his antics. At least this time he seemed to be the one frustrated.
“Ser.” He groaned.
But Nesta was crouching down to be eye level with the little bat. “I do recall you mentioning a caramel apple.” She looked up at Cassian and asked, “You’re resorting to using your friend’s little sister as your Wing Woman to get me to agree to go out with you?”
“Worth a shot.” He said, that damned smirk resurfacing. He stepped behind Ser and rested his hands on her shoulders. “And you haven’t answered this sweet, adorable, little girl’s question that she so kindly asked you.”
Nesta was impressed with the intensity of Seraphina’s eye roll. Nesta dragged her eyes from a grinning Cassian whose expression, while cocky, also looked sincere and a little nervous, down to Ser who mouthed the words caramel apple.
Nesta laughed. It was a loud and happy sound and if her eyes hadn’t shut then she would have seen Cassian’s grin fall into a wide, almost reverent smile. When she managed to take a breath, Nesta wiped a tear from her eye and smiled.
She leaned towards Ser and told her, “You’ve been a wonderful Wing Woman, but the big bat over here was actually doing just fine on his own.” She stood up and smirked at Cassian. “Pick me up tomorrow at eight. I expect flowers.”
She stepped back towards her open door and said to a jaw-dropped Cassian, “Don’t forget her caramel apple.”
With a final wink in his direction, Nesta walked back inside her house and shut the door.
As she pressed her back against the closed door, biting her lip to keep from smiling too hard, she heard a loud Whoo! and giggling before two sets of footsteps hurried down the front porch.
She could’ve sworn she heard Cassian promise to buy Ser all the caramel apples she could want.
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Through His Window | Marcus Baker
Authors Note: Marcus is 18 in this and will be for every time that I write for him! Plus look at the boy, as if he’s 15 😒 I love this boy with all my heart, and could not write about anyone younger than 18 ever. Oral sex! Female receiving.
Y’all get yourself a man (or a woman) like this. I never KNEW until i experienced it. Don’t settle for less!
It’s late at night when you scurry across the street and into the Bakers’ yard. Normally it was your boyfriend climbing through your window, but today, or rather tonight, you decided that you wanted to switch it up.
You reach for the lowest branch of the tree below Marcus’ window, hauling yourself up and wedging your foot into the crevice before reaching for the next branch.
Its really not the most comfortable, stray leaves and twigs hit you in the face and if you weren't wearing leggings you'd certainly have some very scratched up legs.
Thank god it wasn’t a fern tree, that would be utter hell. How Marcus climbed up so gracefully was beyond you.
You finally reach his windowsill and with a might haul, you manage to pull yourself up. You wiggle so that a butt cheek and a thigh rests on the ledge, your other leg still on the tree branch and then you push the window up.
Luckily he hasn’t locked it, otherwise this whole thing would be ruined. Plus, stairs were boring.
You focus more on climbing into the room safely than looking for him. And when you’re seated on the floor, gasping slightly because it sure was a workout, you look up.
Marcus is standing by his dresser just staring at you, looking downright shocked. He blinks, his jaw opening and closing like a fish. His eyebrows rise and then fall again.
“Hey baby!” You say with a giggle.
He blinks another confused blink and then his face lights up. Your boyfriend crosses the room to you and then hauls you up so he can kiss you.
You melt into him, the ever so present fact that the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces looming over you.
“What are you doing here?” He asks with a chuckle of disbelief after he’s pulled away.
You stroke your jaw and grab your crotch, like teenage boys did for their instagram pics. “I’m Marcus Baker. I crawl through windows at night.”
He eyes you, and then simultaneously the two of you break into laughter.
Your fingers find the hem of his tshirt and you tug lightly, before backing away from him to slide off your shirt (one of his old ones, though it unfortunately didn’t smell like him) leaving you in those black nike running shorts that you loved.
He obliges, not because he enjoys being shirtless but because he likes you in his clothes. Or nothing at all. He wasn’t picky.
You slip it over your head and then dart for his bed, you fling yourself onto the mattress and your body bounces back up after impact.
He darts after you, jumping on top of you and pinning you to the mattress. His fingers go to your sides and he begins to tickle you, knowing all the right places.
You squirm, all giggly and thrashing. You can feel the lack of air and you smack at his shoulders playfully, trying to escape his wrath.
He pulls back, knowing you need to breathe. “Give me one good reason as to why I should stop.”
You gasp, and gasp again, sucking that precious air back into your lungs. “I-I-“ You suck in more air, a stray giggle following. “I’m horny!”
At that his eyebrows raise and he peers down at you. “Horny eh?”
You nod curtly and then for extra effect add a little army salute.
“I’ve got a spectacular solution for that problem then miss. Will you allow me to assist you?”
He rolls over to the right of his bed so that he’s no longer on top of you and then pats the space between the sides of his head.
You give him a blank look.
“Ride my face babe!”
You feel your eyes blow out wide. Oh. OH. “Isn’t that dangerous? What if you can’t breathe?”
“Death by thick thighs, I would not complain!”
“No death Mar!” You exclaim.
He pats the mattress again. “Bless me with the glorious juices of your body.”
This kid. This kid would be the end of you.
Reluctantly you tug the shorts off, and because of the built in underwear you didn’t need to wear underwear. You straddle his chest first and look down at him.
“Are you sure?”
You knew he loved eating you out, loved cleaning you up and he loved giving. But you’d never sat ON his face before.
Slowly you scoot up, seeing his face disappear between your thighs. Though you hover over his face, reluctant to put too much weight on him.
His arms wrap around your thighs from the back, his palms resting on your hips, and then abruptly he pulls you down onto him.
His lips land on your clit and you gasp, trying to rocket back up but he holds you there, his grip firm but not tight.
He drags his tongue through your lips and you whimper. It’s always so good when he does this, but the fact that you’re on his face is ridiculously enticing even if you’re still worried. His tongue then flicks upward and- he catches your clit and your hand shoots downwards, wrapping in his hair.
He groans from underneath you and you know it’s because he loves the way you taste. The vibration of the groan rockets through you and your legs shake.
His tongue picks a steady rhythm on your clit and you find your hips rolling forward ever so slightly.
“Is that o-okay?” You gasp out, worried you’ll hurt him.
He lets out a ragged moan in response and tugs you further into him.
Something about this angle, about this position, it was stirring a fire in your belly already. If only there was a mirror, if you ever did this again (and you had a feeling you would) you’d definitely be adding a mirror to the equation.
Your body is succumbing to him, you fall forward, grabbing the headboard for support, fisting his hair.
His tongue stays steady and when he needs a slight break for air he’ll pull you off just slightly before tugging you back onto his face.
Your eyes are glued to his face between your thighs, the source of all the pleasure coursing through your body. At the way just his eyes and forehead are visible below you. His gaze flickers to you occasionally, watching your reactions every time he changes the angle and alters the pressure.
He drags his tongue down to your opening, plays with you there for a bit and then returns full force to your clit.
It’s enough to make you keen out his name.
“M-mar-marcus b-babe p-please” You beg.
The sound of your voice, racked with your impending orgasm and the taste of you does him in and his tongue speeds up, his lips curl around your clit, he sucks on it, like a cherry.
Your legs are shaking and you knew that if you wanted to pull off of him you wouldn’t be able to. You hoped he was doing okay on oxygen down there.
It hits you like a truck. Like the first time you vape but have no idea what it’s like. But harder. Your entire body seizes up and then… heaven. Euphoric bliss.
You release onto his face, into his mouth and he laps it all up, urging you through your orgasm and then further. He’s obsessed. His arms keep you pressed onto him.
Your hips jerk, reaching over sensitivity but he doesn’t stop. Instead Marcus keeps going, showing your body how it’s down. What a real orgasm is. You’re seizing above him and the pleasure just won’t stop.
Eventually his pace slows and he slowly pulls off. He helps you lay down next to him, where your entire body is shaking, especially your legs. Who knew post orgasm shakes were really a thing?
He grins at you, mouth and chin glistening with your liquids and then as you watch him, he uses a finger to collect and literally cleans himself.
It’s about one of the sexiest things ever and you don’t think you’ll ever recover from this. Not that that would be such a bad thing.
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Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2,134
Notes: I hope you enjoy this. (For @yukinechan021)
The ground beneath your feet was crumbling. Giving way due to your manic pace as you flew through the underbrush. Your hands barely have enough time to raise up to protect yourself. The small twinges of pain that appeared because of the brambles and low-hanging branches barely making an impact on you. You had only one goal in mind. Only one purpose as you took another sharp turn around a bend.
You could still hear the screams from your village. Hear the distorted voices in the distance calling out for help. Hear the horrid sound being interjected with the ravenous howls of hungry beasts.
The smell of blood and decay reaching you before the first animal ever did. Your father taking hold of you and shoving you towards the wood. His gaze desperate as he said his last words to you. “Go, Y/N. Run like you’ve never run before. They’re here now. Mother Miranda isn’t going to protect us any longer.”
You had hesitated. You didn't want to leave your father but he hadn’t let you. His gentle nudges becoming incessant shoves towards the foliage. “You need to run, iepuraș. Don’t look back no matter what you hear. Just keep running.”
With his words, you had done just as he told you. Trying to not let the screaming or the howls stop you. Trying to not let the fear shining in his eyes stop you. You didn’t want to think about what it meant for your father when the beasts finally did reach him.
Skidding to a stop, your chest heaves as you take in your surroundings. You knew that you had to begin moving soon. It was only a matter of time before the beasts caught your scent. You had only a small window of opportunity before you’d be captured too.
The sight of rustic stone work causes you to blanche. Fear shooting through your body as the knowledge of where you were came rushing to you. Castle Dimitrescu; the one place you had always been warned to never venture near. The tales of bloodshed and twisted horrors doing little to persuade you to try. Its foreboding presence is always looming over your village for as long as you’ve been alive. You never thought you would ever see it up close.
The intricate stonework winding up towards grand towers in the sky. Its color is a rich black in the setting light of day. You could tell that the castle was old, even barring the tales you had heard about it, from the weathered quality to its structure. Even though it was no doubt still taken care of. Standing the test of time despite everything.
A chilling feeling works its way up your spine. Causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. Your body stiffening as a cold cackle reverberates through the air. A sharp breath catching in your throat at the faint shifting of metal against the ground.
“Well, well, well.” The gruff voice purrs. “What do we have here? I don’t believe my dear sister let you out of your cage. So you must be a village girl.”
Flinching away from the strong grip suddenly on your face, your head is unceremoniously jerked towards the speaker. To a man with dark glasses and a cruel smirk on his face. Amusement clearly dancing through the expression. A twisted sense of glee lighting up his face even more when he saw your fear. “It’s a pity the doggies didn’t get to you too.” He pauses before a broad smile pulls his lips up. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun with you. Oh, Mother Miranda is going to love you.”
Your brow furrows. “Mother Miranda?”
At your words a bark-like laugh falls from his lips. “Yes, child, Mother Miranda. I do hope she’ll let me have you. You’d make the most interesting tool in my games. I’m certain we’d have a blast. Well,” His head tilts to the side. “I know I would.”
Trying to jerk your head away from his hold, you couldn’t stop the pleas from leaving your mouth. “I don’t have anything worth giving you. No money to my name or family that would be willing to pay it. I have nothing of value that you’d want to take.”
“Oh that’s not true child. You shouldn’t sell yourself so short.” His hand loosens ever-so-slightly but it does little to abate your nerves. Especially as his other hand shifts his hammer.
“I don’t have anything. Please.”
He grins. “While I do love to hear a beautiful maiden such as yourself beg, I must decline. As you do have something very special you can give me.”
You could feel tears welling up in your eyes. Fear began to run through your body as the man grew closer. “What?”
His face once again twists into a dark sense of amusement. “Your life.”
You didn’t see his other hand move. Didn’t hear or feel anything except for the sharp crack of pain against your skull. Your world is immediately consumed by darkness.
Only the sound of his maniacal laughter following you.
The rough stone scraping along your back is what roused you next. Your eyes blearily blinking open as you’re unceremoniously left against the hard ground. The basic stone ceiling being all that kept your attention for the moment. You could tell already, without even having to move too much, that you were restrained. The heavy presence of metal feeling like a sentence.
To what? You weren’t sure.
“Why did you bring her here, Heisenberg? She’s of no use to me.”
The female voice that spoke was familiar to you. You couldn’t quite grasp from where but you knew that you had heard it before. Lifting your head off the ground, you’re finally met with the sight of your captors.
A sight that quickly causes a chill to run down your spine.
Your original captor, Heisenberg, was lounged against a couch. A calm nonchalance surrounding him as a gleeful smile took over his features. His cruel intent still being as palpable even from the distance you were now at.
A hunched over figure standing just behind him. A crown of bones situated atop its head as heavy breathing reached your ears. The grotesque form causes your stomach to churn at the very sight. You had to turn your head away from it.
The other was in the form of a doll. Your body flinched away ever-so-slightly as it drew nearer. Its lifeless staring at you with something akin to interest before it scampers away. The clear barking order for it to do so coming from the woman who had spoken.
A woman that was standing in the middle of them all. Her black dress and veil obscuring the majority of her features from you. Though you could still feel the tangible power that radiated off of her body. The command she clearly held over the people in the room.
Mother Miranda-- through and through. No one but her held that type of power. The pull that she had on people.
It was a spell that was only broken by the arrival of the fifth person.
A heavy, yet graceful, gait announcing their presence before they even appeared. The faint clicking of heels against the stone floor telling you where they were. That they were growing closer and closer towards you by the second. Your body is already tensing at what monstrosity you would be subjected to at their arrival.
Nothing would have ever prepared you for what you saw.
A woman stops just within your field of vision. Glowing golden eyes taking in the room with a vague sense of interest. Painted red lips pulled into a small smirk as she finally settled her gaze on you. Raven black locks standing out against her pallid skin. Her clear beauty stands out even through the darkness. But that wasn’t what caused your breath to catch.
It wasn’t the way an exotic tinge of danger exuded from her.
It wasn’t because of the way she gracefully moved through the room. Her white dress shifted against her form with every minute movement.
It wasn’t even because of the way the dress looked on her body.
No. It all had to do with her height. She stood taller than any person you had ever seen; man or woman. Her imposing height did little to detract from natural elegance that seemed to lace itself within her movements. In fact it only seemed to enhance it.
Mother Miranda’s voice interrupted your thoughts. Your gaze being torn from her form towards Miranda’s. “You’re late, Alcina. I expect better from you.”
The woman, Alicna, offers an almost apologetic smile towards Mother Miranda. Her colossal from resting easily against the backrest of the couch. Her ankles crossing in the manner that only seemed to come from habit.
“I apologize, Mother Miranda. I got caught up with affairs at the castle.” She dips her head towards the black-cloaked woman. “It won’t happen again.”
Miranda sneers. “Make sure it doesn’t.” Pausing for a brief moment, Mother Miranda seemed to observe the room. Clear contemplation taking up most of her concentration-- until her gaze once again landed on you. “Now it’s time to figure out what we’re going to do with our little friend.”
Almost immediately Alcina and Heisenberg speak up.
“I found her. It should be I that gets to keep her.” No. Anything but that.
“I would have the most use of her. She does look quite appetizing.” I don’t think I want to know what that means.
At Alcina’s words, Heisenberg scoffs. “I’ll have the most use of her, dear sister. You’ll just hide her away in the private rooms of your castle. In the dark. Playing games with her that would end like it started; boringly.” He turns towards Mother Miranda. “Let me have her. I know exactly what I wish to do.”
“And you’ll just toy with her for only a few moments before she’s crushed by one of your contraptions. There’s no finesse to what you do, dear brother.” Her golden gaze flickers towards you for a moment. An almost contemplative look flashing across her beautiful features. “I’ll make sure I have something spectacular planned for her.”
Mother Miranda speaks before they can argue any further. And by the tone of slight agitation in her voice you can tell that this was a common occurrence. Your body shifted away from her ire even as you were restrained, almost painfully, from moving any further.
“Enough. Alcina you will get the girl.” At Heisenberg’s whine, she snaps at him. “There will not be any more complaints regarding this issue. You’re dismissed.”
The next time you blinked she was gone.
Your head is already plopping down against the ground. Despite the harsh greeting it got in response. You couldn't believe that this was your life now. You had just been sold to a woman, while undeniably attractive, that would sooner rip out your spine then let you walk free.
At least it wasn’t Heisenberg.
The thought only brings you a modicum of comfort.
The sudden looming shadow around doing quick work to wipe out what was left. Your eyes trailing up well muscled legs, across a white-clad torso, an elegant neck, to finally reach her amused gaze. Even if her amusement was tinged with a darker entity that you truly didn’t want to think about.
“Well, darling, it looks like you’re all mine,” she purrs as she leans towards you. Her hand coming up to brush against your cheek. Whether it be a way for her to maintain control or for her to know what you felt like; you hadn’t the slightest idea. “Aren’t you going to say anything to me? I did just save you from my brother.”
You still weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Raising your gaze to meet hers, you clench your jaw. Trying to prepare a biting retort to her clear teasing. Hoping that you’d be able to get even with her in some small way. If you were going to die you were going to die your way.
However, the moment you opened your mouth, another two words appeared. “You’re beautiful.”
The moment that words slipped from your lips, you could feel your face heat up. Your body automatically tensing at the knowledge of you had just said to her. Fortunately she seemed to be just as floored as you. Shock clearly showing itself across her elegant features before an almost feral smile takes its place. Her arms wrapping around to hoist you in the air.
But, before she did, she whispered one last thing towards you.
“I’m going to have so much fun with you, pet.”
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I think the thing that makes me love RWBY so much is that they’ve escalated their progressivism with the times.
So many shows and franchises I loved years ago have now become “eh” these days because they reached some sort of limit. Star Wars had the most spectacular nosedive by completely erasing their black protagonist from the narrative and eroding any depth from the white woman protagonist (while sabotaging the Heroic Space-Dominican by making him overconfident comic relief), but while they worked in some more diversity with The Mandalorian, they obviously had...a number of issues. SNL could be doing skits every week about the continued police violence in DC, utilizing the platform to do new things, but they’re quickly recessing back to their typical stuff. When Samantha Bee and other comedians got too on-point with their skewers, they had to offer apologies and retract statements. Disney’s mainstay cartoons have done a great job diversifying the color palette...but they’ve also failed to progress in a lot of other regards, and unless Zootopia+ goes on a full binge of exposing corruption and violence among cops, I’m very wary. Even Rogue Squadron has side-eye because I suspect it’s going to be Air Force propaganda--which brings us right over to the Marvel Universe and its, well...you know all about that.
I know I spent pretty much that whole giant paragraph talking about Disney, but, hey, that’s a monopoly for you. The Jurassic franchise has done well (the Prattster being a major detriment, though), and there have been a number of other sparks, but you can tell that a lot of franchises aren’t going to take major steps foward. A lot of others do stand to be progressive...but remain unappreciated (Thundercats Roar...) or end up underfunded or poorly-written, or left in the hands of people who make bad decisions (the DC cinematic universe has a lot of good potential and doesn’t seem afraid or limited, but also, “pushing the envelope” for them is “Batman drops an F-bomb”, so...yeah).
RWBY? It’s super-popular. It’s brilliantly written. It has an immense and talented cast of actors and actresses, animators, directors, producers, and is even working with management that is willing to allow delays and schedule shifts in order to avoid crunch and overwork (so I hear).
And what have they done?
They started by being revolutionary by having all-female protagonists. Then they had a few subtle same-sex hints (Reese’s wink, Bumbleby foreshadowing, Coco, Emerald...), but nothing major...until they pulled out the wives a few volumes later. And Ilia. And they’re racing toward Bumbleby. It was pretty obvious that Qrow was into Clover (bless his poor taste...). They didn’t do Pilot Bro. And today? Straight-up Trans story to the face, spoken by a trans voice actress.
All wrapped tightly within stories calling out authoritarianism, bracketed by songs about how you shouldn’t give up hope just because it’s dark, and deliverring messages about fighting for the future.
While Star Wars preached “you should always be hopeful!” while spreading misery and deflating fans’ optimistic bubbles left and right, RWBY keeps heading forward and providing victory and spectacular moments, allowing characters to grow and change and develop.
RWBY feels like it will stand the test of time, but it also feels like it belongs in the present--and it’s not just because it’s adapting to the current day and age. It’s a year behind and still on-pace, because it’s trying to push forward. It’s smart, it’s full of heart, and it’s good.
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hello. it is i. so! i was wondering if you could do a little ditty abt nail polish with the company and/or the fellowship? basically like modern girl in middle earth type stuff, and she realizes that she has nail polish on her which is something they totally don't have in middle earth. basically headcanons abt like how they would react to painted nails and which one of these mfs would let me paint their nails. cuz like - they dont know its just a "fem" thing here so no toxic masculinity. ty <3
OMFG I'M SO HYPED FOR THIS! I just picked a few random Tolkien characters that seem to have a lot of attention, so I hope you like this!!
Nail Polish (LOTR/THE HOBBIT X READER)
I feel like Frodo would be very skeptical at first
Because, come on, a girl falling into Middle Earth out of nowhere??
However, his interest is certainly peaked, seeing you twist the brush away from it's blue colored bottle as you smile down at it
"What's that, you've got there?"
"Oh, just some nail polish!"
He watches with curiosity as you perfectly decorate your nails with the periwinkle color
He may not want to have his nails painted at first, but has this deep fascination with how perfectly you can paint them without screwing up
Soon, he forgets all about the ring as you paint your nails, sitting cross-legged and starting with those huge blue eyes with interest
If he allows you to paint his nails, he would smile the whole time
I mean HIS TINY HANDS?!?!
What a bean 🥺
Tries his best not to chip the color when he leaves for Mordor with Sam
Gollum is actually really interested with his nails
"whAT IS IT prECI0us?!?1!1?"
But Frodo will swat his hands away, because "it's a gift from someone important."
The one thing that keeps him smiling along the way 😊
Elf prince is so interested!!
He thinks the spring green color looks so pretty in the bottle
He's obviously not used to most thing from your world
"How do you use this?"
"...can I show you?"
So whenever the Fellowship stops for the night, he watches with amusement as your brows furrow and you stick your tongue out in concentration
Legolas sits very still, so it's easy for you to paint his nails
How does he keep them so clean?!
He's low-key obsessed with how satisfying it is...
Now HE wants to paint YOUR nails?
He's so good at it!
Legolas is so patient and calm
He says it reminded him of making flower crowns I guess?
And he doesn't even mess up once 😳
THE MASTER NEEDS TEACHING, DAYUM-
He gets so happy with how the color matches him!
Forgets that you have to let it dry at first, so it gets a bit smudged when he draws his bow
Upset Legolas :(
But you fix it for him, and he's happy again!
And so proud!
Pretty Elf 🥰✨
Pippin is very confused, to say the least
He though it would be something relatively close to a nail filer
But once he sees the pastel yellow color, on your own fingers, he has to have some!!
While you're trying to paint his hands and feet (by request), he's telling you great tales of the shire, a throwing his limbs around to exaggerate his story
You've to clonked him on the head and scolded him quite a few times
For some reason, he's saying it tickles??
"It does! The brush is like feather!"
Painting his toes it a lot easier, seeing he can't really feel much on his feet
The color goes perfect with his green eyes 🥴
Also, let's not forget that Pip is the definition of "disaster-on-legs"
After the polish dries, it immediately chips, since he's busy causing trouble with merry or practicing his hand with Boromir
He really wants to paint your nails, and you let him do so...
Poor hobbit has zero clue with how this shit works 🤦♀️
He feels so bad about getting it all over your fingers, but you assure him it'll be fine and that it will eventually wash off in a few days
HE WANTS TO USE IT RIGHT AWAY-
Pink, as cliche as it sounds, suits him so well
He's just amazed!
Also, really likes the smell 🤔🤔
Is grinning like an idiot while you're painting his nails
"Such talent and patience you have!"
"Pfft, it's really nothing. Takes a bit of practice is all."
Afterward, is flashing his bright pink nails at everyone
"Look at Y/N's spectacular skill of hand!"
I think Boromir would have a habit of picking at the polish after it dries
But that's okay, he doesn't mind too much
It gives him more time to spend with you while you repaint them!!
He's afraid he'll screw up your nails if he tries to paint them, so he never offers
That's alright though, since you know he only means well 😊
Oh he's so regal
You were in Rivendell, digging through your purse, and suddenly
A deep navy blue bottle, probably about half empty was revealed
He was curious, but tried not to let it show, since that would damage his royal ego 🙄
"What is that?"
"Oh, just some nail polish. Wanna try some?"
Thorin would insist that you show him how it works first
And so, you did
He definitely admires the color
But defied any suggestion of you painting his own nails
That would be "un-kingly" 😤
Okay so maybe he lets you paint his pinky finger when nobody is around
But he smiles (a rare sight) while watching you paint your nails
And does give a somewhat compliment at your articulate handwork
"It looks exceptional as artwork."
He definitely thinks the color matches you beautiful skin tone 😌
Prince Dumbass LOVES red
It reminds him of Tauriel 🥰
One night, you left your bag opened on the ground as you went off to get some food from Bombur, and Kili couldn't help but notice the glittering ruby bottle inside
He grabbed it, being the nosy prince he was, and examined its glow in the firelight
"What kind of jewel is this?"
"Oh hey, my nail polish!!"
"Why does it smell so strange?"
Thankfully, being a dwarf, his fingernails are a bit bigger, so there's more room and it's easier to paint
He, like Pippin, has issues with sitting still and gets you really annoyed
"I swear to all things fluffy, if you don't sit still I will cut off all of that hair in your sleep-"
He immediately smudges them, and then you have to paint them AGAIN
Once they FINALLY dry, he won't let anyone touch them
"Stop it, Fili! You'll damage them!"
He can't stop touching them, since it's so smooth!
The others tease him, but he doesn't mind, as long as they stay nice and clean
Turns into a whiny toddler the MINUTE they chip
"Y/nnn! I need you to repaint them!"
"I just painted them yESTERDAY-"
A mix of Thorin and Kili when it comes down to it
Definitely prefers gold 😌✨
Sees you painting your nails one night in the library in Erebor
"What have you got there sagh (friend)?"
"Just some nail polish. Wanna try some?"
Once again, he wants to see what it does like Thorin
And you of course happily oblige
Admires the color greatly
He says it reminds him of the gold floors in his kingdom, and it makes you chuckle
Fili loves to have his nails painted, and especially with such a regal hue 💅😌
DAMN does it bring out those baby blues 🥴
After that, you stare at his hands a lot, proceeded by his flirtatious teasing
Shows up Kili's sparkly red polish with his "more extravagant" color
He is also very protective of his nails and tries his very best to keep them from chipping
You love watching him hold his weapons and spar with his pretty nails 😳
Even with his larger hands, made for forging and wielding huge swords and axes and smelting, he had an incredibly steady and gentle hand when it comes to this subject, so he's AMAZING at painting his and your nails
Fili insists that you have matching nails all the time, and it's a regular thing for you to hang out and talk about your day while you paint each others nails 🥺
Have you MET this man?!
KING OF DIVAS 💅💅
At first, he's very weirded out
"What do you have in your hand, mellon (friend)?"
"Oh, just some nail polish."
Thranduil watches intently over your shoulder as you carefully decorate your nails with a glossy black polish, sitting directly next to his throne
"Do you want me to paint your nails?"
He reluctantly agrees, placing his BEAUTIFUL hand in yours and stares down at your gentle talented work
He loves the color more than he cares to admit, and much like his son sits very still as you lead the brush over his clean nails
The elf king loves seeing your tongue stick out in concentration
You remind him that it'll need time to dry out
And as he says in his notoriously sassy voice;
"I thousand years is a mere blink in the life of an elf... I'm patient... I can wait."
Ofc, you just scoff at this and tell him it'll only take about five to ten minutes
He just nods and stares back down at them with admiration
Thranduil doesn't do much around his kingdom, except maybe get a bit drunk and direct orders to his guards, so it's no worry about him chipping or ruining his nails
I hope you liked this, just as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Have a lovely day, and don't forget that requests are open as always!! ❤❤😊
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" m o m m y ! " | 02 ⏤katsuki b.
p a i r i n g : prohero single dad katsuki b. x next door neighbour baker f.reader
s u m m a r y : you share your thoughts about Katsumi’s father as you both make memories together, creating something the number one hero would like
l e n g t h : 4.2k
g e n r e : fluff ; minor angst ; bakugou raised katsumi right ; best father daughter pair ; cooking in the kitchen with katsumi is the best ; katsumi is proud of her dad ; bakugou’s nickname for katsumi is cheesy but cute ; katsumi loves her dad ; bakugou loves his daughter ; katsumi wants to her cupid’s bow and arrow ; bakugou is still in pain ; past loss of a loved one ; bakugou sees his old partner in you ; maybe you can make it better
a / n : i wrote this over the holidays while i was inspired to write. yes, i ended up neglecting my studies for a while, but i’ll be hoping back on that grind this month as i have exams to study for. in the meantime, i hope this satisfies everyone until i can comfortably write again without the pressure of exams!
i love you all so much, please enjoy the read!
Now that you've met your neighbours, you were definitely dropping by with your home-baked, chocolate chip cookies. These were special though. Knowing that they were getting consumed by the most adorable little girl on the planet, you put in the extra effort of shaping the baked goods into teddy-bear faces. Truthfully, you were nervous to knock on their door, intimidated with knowing that the number one hero and his adorable but equally firey daughter, were just on the other side. If it weren't for you remembering the sweet girl that melted your heart, wrapping you around her little finger, you would have turned right around and eaten the cookies yourself. It wouldn't have been your first time eating your worries away but you pulled through for sweet Katsumi.
It took several moments before the door opened to your knocks. You had hoped it would be Katsumi that opened the door just so your heart could stay settled for longer. However, with your luck, the casually dressed, number one hero ended up being the one to look down at you with his usually piercing stare, orbs of vibrant rubies framed with long, thick, blonde lashes. It sent your heart into a frenzy of emotions that you didn't know if you should place favorably or not.
"What do you want?" his rough voice demands after growing irritated at your prolonged silence. He can tell that you were doing your absolute best not to let your eyes trail down to his defined torso and slim waist, clothed in a tight, black tank top. Admittedly, you're showcasing better restraint than most women that approach him so he demonstrated equal restraint with keeping from barking your ears off. His precious daughter also won't stop praising you so he supposes he needs to be more gentle when interacting with you.
"Ummm, I-I just came to formally introduce myself as your new neighbor," you announce, swallowing the lump in your throat and raising the carefully wrapped cookies in your hands, "I also baked you and Katsumi a little something, I'm a baker after all," grunting, the hero takes the bundle of cookies from your hands and steps aside. Before you were able to ask him what he was doing, a sudden force collided with your legs. Letting out a surprised squeal, you flailed your arms to keep your balance as Bakugou holds back a smirk of amusement, lips sealed to his admission of finding your actions oddly endearing.
"(Y/NNN)!" Katsumi cheered, hugging your legs with a bright smile on her face, "Did you come to play, huh?!" her eyes sparkled like the same rubies as her father's whilst eagerly staring up at you.
"I'm sorry Katsumi-chan but I have to get to work soon," you apologize softly as you pet the top of her head, heart aching at the noise of sadness she lets out.
"Here, firecracker," Bakugou gently eases Katsumi off you before handing over the cookies you baked, "she made you something,"
"Oh!" Katsumi opens the pretty packaging and gasps at the cutely shaped cookies, "Teddy bear cookies!" she awes openly, allowing for a smile to blossom on your lips; she's too cute for her own good, "I can really have these, Daddy?" she looks to her father who gives a brief nod with a grunt.
"What do you say?" Bakugou gives a brief tilt of his head in your direction eyes still fixed upon his daughter.
"Thank you so much, (Y/N)-san," holding the bundle of cookies to her chest, she bows to you with a bright grin.
"You're welcome! I hope you enjoy them, Katsumi-chan,"
"If they're as good as the cupcakes you gave me last time then imma love them lots!"
"It's 'I'm going to', not 'imma', firecracker," Bakugou corrects with a subtle smirk directed at his daughter.
"You say 'imma' as well dad! Stop making me look bad in front of (Y/N)!" as Katsumi pokes her tongue out at her father, he sends a soft scowl her way. The scene was very sweet, it made your heart flutter in your chest and encouraged you to get baking, knowing that your baking creations come out best when you're in high spirits, especially with your quirk in play.
"Listen to your dad, Katsumi-chan, he just wants you to grow up well,"
You watch as Katsumi ponders to herself for a moment before nodding with a wide grin stretched across her face, "Okay!"
"So you're going to listen to her but not me, huh?"
"I love you, Daddy!" it's amusing to see the number one hero just grunt in agreement, not putting up the usual stubborn fight he showcases on TV and in interviews. It's a rare sight to witness so you ensure to bury it deep within your memory, ready to recall it with fondness in the future.
"Well," you begin with a soft giggle, "I suppose I'll be going now, it was a pleasure officially meeting the two of you," with a bow, you turn and were about to leave if it weren't for the timid tug on your pant leg. Eyes softening and smile adorning your lips you hum at Katsumi questioningly upon turning to find her sheepishly staring up at you, one hand clutching your pant leg as the other still held a tight grip on your baked goodies.
"You really can't stay and play?" from behind her, you hear Bakugou click his tongue as he crosses his arms, forcing his muscled chest to strain the fabric covering them as he leans against the doorframe.
"I'm sorry, Katsumi-chan," you needed to be firm but it broke your heart to see the shattered expression on her sweet face, "but listen..." you kneel down to her level and tuck a strand of hair behind her cute ears, "you can always visit me at work,"
"Really?!" her eyes sparkled.
"Of course, I'll serve you personally," you mirrored her adoring grin with one of your own, not noticing the spark of interest in the eyes of the young girl's father.
"Daddy, we're going!" Katsumi confirms as her father quirks a questioning brow.
"Whoever said that?" his gruff voice is gentle despite his ambiguous denial.
"We don't even know where she works," with a click of his tongue, Bakugou turns his gaze away from his daughter who's mood instantly brightened.
"Thank you, Daddy!"
"Well?" ignoring Katsumi despite flashing her an acknowledging and kind stare, the tall blonde faces you with a stiff pout on his lips.
"I work at the Bakery Kuidaore,"
"Pretty established place," Bakugou muses as he lifts himself from the doorframe.
Feeling bashful, you look to the floor, "Thank you but...it's still getting there,"
If Bakugou wanted to say something about the implications of your suspicious wording, he didn't, instead he watched as Katsumi made a pinkie promise with you to visit the Bakery as soon as possible so that you can spend time together even if you were working. He hasn't seen his daughter so excited and spritely around a woman other than her auntie Mina so it was pretty refreshing. Like a cold glass of lemonade on a hot summer's day, Bakugou relished in the moment's sweetness and slightly sour aftertaste.
It's the same type of relationship Bakugou can imagine his daughter having with her real mother. If things were different, if events unfolded differently that day, if he didn't lose her then he wouldn't have to see his daughter be approached by strange women trying to get to him and his status or look longingly on at other children's 'whole' families when he goes to pick her up from school. She likes to act strong because she adores him and his tough exterior as much as he adores her and her mastered puppy eyes but he can see through her facade. She's just waiting to cry out to him but Bakugou doesn't know what to do.
"When can we go visit (Y/N), Daddy?"
"When you finish your homework," Bakugou firmly says as he tries not to smirk at her whine of protest and eventual sigh of compliance.
Before you had left for work, you told Bakugou to mention that you asked them to come personally when they enter the cafe so that you get informed right away and stay true to your promise. You were determined to serve Katsumi and the number one hero yourself, not for their status but because they were your neighbors and it would be an honor to serve such a cute family; it reminded you of when you first started your journey as a small-time baker. You haven't explicitly seen Bakugou's partner so you were hoping he'd be comfortable enough around you to bring her along, you'd love to see the complete family.
All Bakugou expected was for you to cater them as a waitress, not for him and his daughter to be led to the empty second floor and seated at the best table - on the balcony with a spectacular view of the city beside the ceiling-tall windows of the luxurious cafe and the climbing plants wrapping around the balcony railings.
The hero's suspicions were growing more with every moment that went by. It'll be impressive if he was proven right about your true position at the cafe, seeing as you're so young but he needs to see it to believe it first.
"Wowwwie!" Katsumi awes at the beautiful cafe and at the view they were sitting in front of, "This is such a pretty place, huh, Daddy?"
"It's not bad," Bakugou shrugs, leaning back in his chair as he takes in the breathtaking view. It was also nice that he wasn't mixing in with the other customers. Interactions with his fans during patrols were relatively pleasant so long as a villain didn't start attacking but this was 'Daddy-Daughter time'; he'd rather keep his daughter away from their attention and flocking, especially in an enclosed space.
"That means you really like it here, huh?" Katsumi cheekily pokes, smiling happily when she notices the twitch of a smile in her father's pressed lips.
If Bakugou was still his teenage self, he would've blown Katsumi up where she sat for her comment but ever since he had to raise her by himself, he's matured. She needs a strong parental figure in her life but also someone who was patient and assured her that she had no limits. It took time but he grew into those shoes almost perfectly, he was still rough and stubborn at times but it seemed as though Katsumi inherited her mother's understanding and caring nature. He doesn't know how but he's grateful. Katsuki was devastated when his former partner passed on but seeing a piece of her in his daughter, becoming a similar pillar of support and reassurance to him and his values, it was comforting. It's as if the world wanted to say that she was still looking after them with tender, watchful eyes despite not being physically there. Nevertheless, he and his daughter still argued sometimes, but it always ends with mutual regret and the willingness to forgive on both sides regardless of who started the dispute.
"You know Daddy best, firecracker," these were one of the rare moments Bakugou could spend with his daughter and enjoy being a father. He never knew that the feeling of being number one could be so easily swamped by something he never thought to think twice about years ago.
"Good noon!" a chirpy voice calls out, distracting the blonde pair, whose ruby eyes are instantly drawn to your approaching figure, "Thank you for taking the time to drop by even though I'm sure you could be doing something else," you sheepishly extend your gratitude.
"Nuh-uh! We like you (Y/N)-san!" Katsumi blatantly expresses with wide eyes and a passion behind her intense gaze.
"Of course," you giggle after overcoming your brief surprise at her blunt expression. Bakugou hasn't said anything to protest his daughter's statement and only continued staring at you with his signature pout, "I really appreciate the visit, please let me serve you my best," bowing to the pair, you proceed to guide them through the menu of available drinks, meals, and patisserie.
Firstly, you served them their drinks and quickly followed with slices of cake and other desserts, "Yummy!" Katsumi cheers in delight crumbs all over her face. Bakugou finishes his bite before reaching over to wipe the crumbs off her face.
"Slow down," Bakugou warns gruffly, restraining his smile because you were still beside them from his daughter's insistence. Beforehand, Bakugou questioned the cafe's name but now he understands after sampling the popular menu items. He doesn't like many sweet things but you've somehow made the impossible happen, almost persuading him to keep eating until he was bankrupt; he doesn't blame his daughter for being so excited to stuff every plated dessert down, "today is our day so I'm sure we can stay here for as long as we want,"
"Can we?!" Katsumi turns to you, Bakugou taking the opportunity to wipe the other side of her face.
"Of course, but only until closing hours,"
"When is that?"
"Not until eight at night,"
"That's my bedtime!" she cheers as you giggle with a nod, missing the sweet glance Bakugou flashes your way behind piercing ruby eyes. Whenever you interact with his daughter, it always looks so natural, very unlike the women that usually tried to forcefully fall into his arms; it was refreshing to have you around his daughter, "I can't believe you can bake this well. Daddy is really good at cooking but not at baking," Katsumi cheekily adds as her father starts to bark out in anger, although very much toned down compared to his usual protests.
"That may be true but your father is capable of something so much better than my baking," staring into Katsumi's sweet eyes your gaze warms, "he saves people's lives," Katsumi good practically see the pride welling up within her father as his ego inflates an insurmountable amount.
"But you make people happy with your cakes and stuff too so that's just as important,"
"Well..." you lightly sigh in defeat, not having the heart to argue with her that much further, "I suppose different people have different values and ways of perceiving the world,"
You didn't outrightly object to her claim and you didn't go back on your word either, something that Bakugou appreciated. You didn't force your own values onto his daughter, letting her think for herself and decide what she wants to prioritize. That was something Katsumi also appreciated about you; other women she saw around her father either solely focused on him, trying to get as close as possible, or sucked up to her so as to get on her father's good side. It was all forced. It never felt nice. But you were different, she liked you a lot and her dad didn't seem uncomfortable or irritated around you either. It's like you're the puzzle piece they've been missing.
Katsumi needs to keep you close, it's something she needs to do, she doesn't know why but the feeling in her tummy was saying that it has to happen, "Do you think I'll be able to bake as good as you?"
"With enough practice, then, of course! You're capable of anything you set your mind to," your eyes smile with your lips as you lovingly stroke her crumb-free cheek.
"Can you teach me?!"
It was a sudden request but how could you ever say no? "Sure I can! What would you like to make?"
"Something Daddy would like," Katsumi's full focus on you makes her miss the look of endearment her father sends her way. She's really a 'Daddy's girl' and he couldn't be happier; he should be the only man his daughter looks towards. Despite it being a fleeting ideal as she continues to grow, he wants to hope that she will stay his little girl forever.
"Well, what does Daddy like?" you ask politely as Bakugou tries not to choke on his drink. The images that flashed in his mind had never been so unsavory - had he grown some type of kink after becoming a father? That can't be...
"Spicy stuff!" the conversation carries on despite Bakugou's struggle for air. He's fine, as long as you two didn't catch an eyeful of the flustered and embarrassing state he was in.
"Hmm..." it's unusual for desserts to be spicy but you're confident in a recipe, "Alright! On Sundays, the cafe closes early, earlier than your bedtime," you boop her nose, "around 5 pm, actually. So if you're up to it, I'll stay after hours and teach you a recipe that you can take home to your father,"
"Thank you so much, (Y/N)-san! Daddy, can I come on Sunday?" Bakugou grunts, "That's a yes! Thank you!" she cheers merrily, going to hug the grumpy blonde and sit on his lap as you stare on lovingly at the scene.
Bakugou doesn't usually accept invitations such as the one you've extended without him being there to supervise, however, Katsumi really likes you - if her constant praises and likable descriptions of you were anything to go by. He trusts his daughter’s judgment, if she says you're a good person, then she's right; she is the center of his world so he'll allow it. The interactions he's seen the two of you share also cast you in a favorable light, which is reassuring. Not only that but it saves him from hiring a babysitter when his other hero friends are also out on patrols or missions.
When Sunday finally comes, Katsumi couldn't sit still until Bakugou had dropped her off at your cafe.
"Are you sure you can use the kitchen after hours?" Bakugou asked with a raised brow as you reached down to bring Katsumi into your arms and stand with her at your hip.
"Oh don't worry, sir Dynamight," you persuade, "I'm the owner, after all," He wasn't shocked but that didn't stop his eyes from widening as you smirked and carried Katsumi to the cafe's kitchen.
"See you later, Daddy!"
"Be good, firecracker,"
Seeing how Katsumi was so elated to be making something for her father made your chest fill with warmth. It's clear that Bakugou is a really good father from how much his adorable daughter seems to adore him to the ends of the earth. He must act very differently around her compared to other people, which is incredibly sweet and added to your existing fondness for the pro but also made you feel a little jealous. Dynamight was a hero that you greatly admired for his work despite his controversial way of approaching battles and colorful speech; it made you really want to see how he was around Katsumi when they're alone. You've had small glimpses from the limited interactions you observed of them so far, however, you craved more. Of course, this was an unreasonable desire so you easily trampled it down and moved it to the back of your mind. And, there, it stayed until Katsumi came bouncing in with her loveable personality and endless admiration for her father.
"Today, we're making spicy chocolate truffles,"
"Ooo~ those sound yummy!"
"Fingers crossed your father approves of them,"
"We're just gonna have to put a lot of love into them so that he'll have no choice but to like them, then!" Katsumi says with fiery determination, one that was very reminiscent of a rough hero. It's astounding how similar yet so different they can be to each other. Laughing, you nod and get started, letting her complete small tasks on her own with a watchful eye, whilst the big tasks you completed together. It was a joyful and happy few hours that the two of you shared.
"(Y/N)-san," Katsumi begins as you hum in acknowledgment.
"What is it, dear?"
"What do you think of my Daddy?" the little girl continues with a light blush coating her cheeks. Her dad usually calls her firecracker but never such loving nicknames, it's not that her dad doesn't love her because he's told her many times how much she means to him. No, it's not that. It just feels really good to be called 'dear'...especially if it's by you, someone that Katsmui adores almost as much as her father.
Caught off guard, you almost ended up ruining the recipe but held through with a smile, "Well...he's very nice,"
"Gimme more!" her desperate whine made you laugh.
"Alright, alright. I think he's a very talented person and, although not everyone agrees with him sometimes, his heart is in the right place," the soft, loving smile on your face made Katsumi jump in place with a wide grin.
"People say he's destructive with his work but they don't know that he actually takes really good care of the surroundings when fighting villains and it's not directly a cause of his quirk that some buildings get damaged." you take a short moment to recall your fondest memory of him, "He saved my older bakery once, actually,"
"Really?!" Katsumi's eyes almost bulge out at the somewhat fated circumstances.
"Yes, really," you convince, "I was just starting out my small business when there was a villain attack. Your father was very brave and fought fantastically against the villain, so much so that there wasn't a single scratch made on the walls of my bakery," Katsumi stands taller with the growth of pride in her heart at her father's favourability, "he really saved me that day and helped my bakery flourish. So despite others' views of him, I don't think his quirk is destructive at all, in fact, it's really beautiful, like fireworks," you giggle at the comparison, letting Katsumi join your merriment, "I love his quirk. I also love how skilled and adept he is at utilizing it to save innocent people as well as cause as little collateral damage as possible." turning to the pro's young daughter, you meet her stare with a wide grin, "He deserves the title of number one,"
That was all it took for Katsumi to envision a kaleidoscope of future scenarios with you and her dad spending time together, falling in love, and eventually completing their incomplete family to live happily ever after like in the movies she adores so much. It made her upset that her father was getting criticized so heavily ever since he was dubbed the number one hero so, to know that you had other opinions, you became the perfect person in Katsumi's eyes to be with her father. It can't be anyone else but you, she'll make sure of that.
Once the truffles were carefully decorated and packaged beautifully, you took Katsumi home in time for her dinner so that she could have the truffles for dessert with her father.
"Please come in! I want you to see Daddy's reaction too!" Katsumi begged as Bakugou only opened the door further to allow you inside, a complying slave to his daughter's demands. He looked fresh off of work, smelling deliciously of scented soaps and shampoo, just out of the shower, dressed in his sweats and a tight black shirt.
At first, Bakugou looked at the truffle skeptically, seated at the dinner table with you and Katsumi seated opposite him to observe his reaction. Holding back a smirk at both of your eager expressions, he took a bite and allowed the flavors and texture to direct his expressions.
"It's not bad..."
"That means he really likes it!" Katsumi cheer and celebrates with you, high-fiving for a job 'well done', "Now, I wanna try it too,"
"Here you go," you offer to feed her a truffle that she happily takes a bite of, "how is it?"
Staring on at the scene, Bakugou's heart skips a beat, imagining his old lover in place of you. It was an endearing interaction but it also induced a deep ache within his heart. It made him realize the one thing he never wanted to admit; it was the fact that he missed and craves having a partner.
When he still woke up to his significant other sleeping beside him, Bakugou had been the most stable in his life despite not being the number one hero at the time. Now that he reached his dream and was also a single father, the stress weighed heavily on him no matter how meticulous and efficient he was about doing things.
Every once in a while his friends courteously offered to babysit, seeing the tension build up in his figure and mentality, however, Bakugou often refused in respects to their jobs as pro heroes. He also had his pride to keep from accepting their aid atop that. You, on the other hand, were different. You alleviated the pressure on his shoulders with ease because he knows his daughter really likes you, and that you were also happily willing to spend time with her, not just take care of her.
It seemed almost too good to be true that you ended up being their new neighbour.
At that moment, Katsumi, seeing the way her father looked at you and remembering your words of fondness for the pro back in the cafe kitchen, became determined to set the two of you up. She'll recruit whoever she needs to but she was getting you and her father together.
p r e v . | n e x t .
bnha mlist | endearment mlist
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i’m so sorry if i missed anyone out, please tell me if i have! also, unfortunately, i couldn’t tag everyone, i really don’t know why, i’m sorry dollies!
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off to the races (2) s.rogers
[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stripper!reader, ddlg, daddy!steve, abduction/kidnapping, mafia boss steve, bondage, a hint of peter x reader, toxic/abusive relationship, hella angst, little editing
A/N: im mentally shutting down because of school but at least i have mob!steve :)
In which you don’t want to be Daddy’s secret anymore.
word count: 3.5k
taglist: @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @disaster-rose @sexyxseabassx @marvelmaree
“Woah, dude, your room is awesome. Awe, you have all the good movies. I haven’t seen The Jungle Book in forever!”
“Peter, look!” You waved him over to the window, ignoring his astonishment for the paradise Steve had created for you. Peter stood there dumbly for a moment before walking over to the window beside your bed.
You heard the loud whirring of helicopter spinning blades echoing through the room even with the window closed. It was landing in the field behind the manor and you were questioning why Steve was making such a grand entrance today. You’d been stuck in this house for three weeks now and nothing this exciting had happened yet, “Who’s helicopter is that?” You looked back at Peter who’d crossed his arm nervously.
“Uhm … probably … maybe-” You scoffed, before looking back at the view. The helicopter was a sleek, black color and, as you narrowed, your eyes could make out some words written in gold.
“Stuh …. Stark …. Industries. Stark Industries,” You were calm as you took in the info before the realization hit you, “Stark Industries! Is Tony Stark here? Holy …. pancakes.”
Peter smiled, seemingly amused by your excitement, “Pancakes?”
“Steve doesn’t like it when I-” You stopped yourself from explaining, realizing there was a bigger situation at hand, “We have to go check things out. Get a closer look!”
“No way,” Peter shook his head, “I’m here to make sure you stay in this room.”
You rolled your eyes, “So Tony Stark must be here then, right?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Peter pressed his lips together like he was struggling to hold in all the secrets he knew.
“How the hell does Steve know Tony Stark? Stark is dirty too? I should’ve known … flipping rich people.”
You took a step toward him and despite the fact you were wearing a pair of fairy wings, he still seemed intimidated by you, “What do you want, huh? A raise?”
“Uhm … I don’t think you can do that … can you?”
“Of course I can. Steve is wrapped around my finger.”
Peter cocked an eyebrow, “But he’s Steve Rogers …”
“Look around this room for goodness sake! He does anything I want. If I tell him all about how you’re a great worker, how you’re a good friend to me, he’ll surely be appreciative. Might even give you a promotion and maybe you won't have to play babysitter anymore.”
He considers it just for a moment, “If he does anything you want then why are you locked in this house?”
“Fine, fine, so I don’t have complete control but I have some. I could be helpful to you in the future!”
“Y/N, if something went wrong he’d probably chop me up into little pieces and send them to my Aunt. Or he’d chop up my aunt and make me watch … depends on the kinda mood he’s in.”
You stared back at him, trying not to let the look on your face falter, “ … I’ll give you my movie collection?”
“I’m sorry but-”
“It’s my birthday soon?”
“I can’t,” Peter stated, sighing, “I’ve got pressure on me right now, and things have to go right tonight. It’s like a huge deal. I never get to go to stuff and the party is-” He stopped his rambling when he realized he’d said too much.
“Party?” Peter opened his mouth and closed it again. He turned away from you, eyes wide, and made his way to the door. Of course, you chased after him, placing yourself between him and the door, “What party?”
“Please move,” Peter begged, “I really can’t talk about it.”
“I won’t say anything, I promise!” You were the one begging now, “He doesn’t tell me anything at all. Can you imagine how I’m feeling? I’ll do everything you say, I won’t try anything, I just want to know what's going on …. please?”
“Steve can’t know,” You nodded eagerly and he finally gave in, probably because of your spectacular puppy dog eyes, “Tony Stark is having a party tonight, that’s where Steve’s going, and most of us are going to. A pretty important deal is happening.”
“Why doesn’t Steve want me to go?” You frowned a bit.
“I don’t think he wants anybody to know about you, to keep you safe, that kind of thing.”
“Right,” You nodded, “Even if I go crazy while he does that.”
Peter looked sympathetic, “I’m sorry.”
“I know this thing with me and Steve is not ordinary but is it crazy of me to not want to be a secret? Even after everything …”
You could tell Peter wasn’t expecting a deep question nor did he expect you’d confide in him, “I don’t think so,” Peter was trying to understand, you could see it in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck as if he wasn’t sure, “Obviously … you - uhm - care about him. I wouldn’t want to be the secret of someone I care about.”
He was taken aback when you suddenly hugged him. Unsure if he could hug you back, he awkwardly patted your shoulder which made you giggle, “Can I paint your nails?”
“I have colors that aren’t girly.”
“Hmm … can you do cool stuff like the shapes and sparkles?”
“Of course,” You smiled, “Step into my salon.”
“I didn’t get my sticker this week,” You bounced back from your toes to your heels, watching Steve as he got ready in his closet. He was fixing his tie in the mirror, making sure it was absolutely perfect, along with the rest of the look. Freshly trimmed beard and an aftershave that smells intoxicating. He smelt like money and looked like it too. That’s probably exactly how you would want to look in front of Tony Stark.
“You skipped dinner two days in a row, doll.”
You were frowning but it wasn’t like he was focused on you anyways, “But I did better after that,” You whined.
“I know, baby, you can try again next week.”
“Maybe if you were here then I wouldn’t have missed it,” You whispered, playing with your fingernails, “But I’m stuck here and you get to go out and have your fun.”
“Have my fun?” He questioned, buttoning up his jacket.
“You get home so late … I’m sure you go to your clubs, booze it up and talk to girls.”
He chuckled a bit, “You think I’m flirting with other women?”
“I don’t think, I know,” You leaned against the doorway, “You’re a guy, aren’t you? That’s what you do.”
He finally turned to you, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. He was as handsome as ever, like a movie star, “Doll, my days are long because I’m traveling from here to the city every day. I want to fall asleep and wake up with you. There isn’t and never will be anyone who I’d rather do that with.”
As he came closer, you knew he was going to lift you into his arms. Ever since he took you from the club and you sobbed into his shoulders, you’d find solace in his arms. Even if his hands were causing your hurting, they still felt warm and loving, “You don’t mean that,” You whispered, muffled against his shoulder.
“What can I do to prove it to you?”
“Take me with you,” You said and you felt him stiffen.
“It’s not safe,” He tried to explain.
“Are you embarrassed by me?”
“No, no,” He rushed out, carrying you out of the closet and into the bedroom. “Why would you even ask that?”
“Because of what I do, what I used to do-”
“No, Y/N. I’ve never felt that way,” His tone was more concerned that it ever had been before, “Look at me, please?”
Begrudgingly, you lifted your head. You hated that you were feeling jealous or inadequate, “You took care of yourself all these years and I know you still can,” He continued, “Let me protect you now.”
“I’m not a baby.”
Steve could sense the small bit of pride still left in you and decided not to push you on it anymore, “Could’ve fooled me,” Steve smiled slightly, bouncing you in his arms, “Let me tuck you in, grumpy.”
“The sun just set!”
“It wasn’t actually a request,” He was already carrying you away.
“Wait, wait, wait,” You resisted, “Can I sleep in here? I’ll go to sleep right away, I promise.”Steve stopped, thinking it over for a moment, “I like that the … sheets smell like you, Daddy,” You added, knowing that was what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t fully a lie but you had other motives for not wanting to go back to your room. For one, your room locked from the outside and his didn’t. Besides that, you were almost sure that one of your stuffed bears had a camera inside its eye.
Steve tucked you into his california king-sized bed that night and watched you fall asleep until it was time for him to go. You felt the kiss he pressed to your forehead and, for a brief moment, you thought about changing your plans.
That feeling didn’t last long.
For such an expensive car, you thought your ride would be a lot smoother and much more comfortable. Turns out, hiding in any trunk, no matter how luxurious, behind big boxes of unknown items, was not a pleasant experience. An hour into the drive, you finally decided that you’d had enough and you needed to get the feeling back into your limbs. Besides that, you needed to check and make sure that your hair and makeup stayed in place.
When you climbed over the seat from the trunk to the backseat, the car instantly swerved before the driver corrected its path, “Y/N, holy shit!” Peter shouted, obviously frightened out of his mind but you were focused on making sure all the layers of your dress made it safely back into their places, “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”
“Oh, calm down,” You said, looking at him through the rearview, “Just keep driving.”
“Are you out of your mind? If Steve sees you he’s going flip his shit!”
“Peter, you okay in there, kid?” You heard Bucky’s staticky voice over Peter’s radio. The younger man picked it up and answered, his eyes still focused on you.
You placed a finger over your lips and Peter gave you a death stare, “Yeah, I’m fine … I thought I saw a squirrel.”
A caravan of three cars surrounded Steve’s car as they all drove down this dark, winding road that you assumed would lead to Tony Stark’s mansion, “Did you not comprehend a single word I said?” Peter shouted, “Do you want me to get killed?”
“This is my problem,” You said, “Steve will know that you had nothing to do with it, I promise. But tonight is going to go super well so it won’t even matter. Steve is going to see me and realize he’s crazy not to show me off and then we’re going to go to the party and I’m going to charm everyone with my personality which is going to make him a ton of friends and even more money. Everyone wins.”
Peter was shaking his head the entire time as he listened to your rambling, “Y/N, I understand that you want to be more to Steve and you don’t want to be in the dark but this isn’t the way! This isn’t some charity event or some art gala, these are dangerous people.”
“But Tony Stark-”
“Is as dirty as it gets,” Your heart began to race a bit, “And Steve cannot just let everyone know his biggest weakness, even if they are his allies.”
His biggest weakness.
Suddenly, your mind was racing with thoughts of moments with Steve. Meeting him, going on your first dates, the hotel meetings, and the passionate kisses that always left you feeling like he felt more about you than he admitted. You never saw yourself as his weakness.
I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you.
When you snapped out of your trance, Peter had his walkie-talkie pressed to his chin, “Guys, uhm, we have a stowaway,” You slumped back in your seat, and when the car eventually came to a stop, you wished you were still tucked away in Steve’s bed. You think Peter was calling your name, probably apologizing and telling you how he had to follow orders but, honestly, you had tuned him out, “I-I don’t know …. I thought I checked everything …”
Your dress was adorable too, covered in pastels, while still remaining elegant. You imagined Steve's heart with flutter at the sight of you, instead, he was fuming. He was always so stoic, so full of composure, that the change frightened you. He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you from the backseat, and slamming the door shut. Pressed against the car, you looked into those blue-green eyes that were anything except nice.
“I didn’t mean to for all this,” Was all you could muster up the courage to say, “I just wanted to come with you-”
He shushed you before you got your words out, “We’ll talk about it later.”
You wished he would just yell at you now. He could bend you over right now and you’d prefer that over his silence and the obvious disappointment in his tone, “Later? But-” He pulled you away from the car and you stumbled in your heels as he pulled you along the dark road.
He brought you towards the last car in the caravan and Sam stepped out from behind it, closing the trunk, before handing something shiny to Steve, “What are you doing?” You asked shakily, the cold wind of the night blowing your dress.
“Turn around, face the car,” He ordered you and you feared whatever punishment you were about to receive would be worse if you disobeyed him. Slowly, you turned around and he wasted no time grabbing your wrist. You heard the metal click of handcuffs as they tightened around your wrist. You felt his strong hands on your waist and, as he lifted your dress, you assumed the worst. Your panties slipped down and as Steve lowered himself with them.
“Steve, please talk to me?”
To your surprise, as you stepped out of your underwear, you felt the click of metal around your ankles. When he stood back up, he grabbed your arm again, pulling you back so you were pressed against his chest, “Daddy will deal with you later,” His breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine, “Don’t worry, doll … open your mouth.”
“If you just let me explain-”
You weren’t sure why you even wanted to. He left your brain scrambled and wondering why you even did the things that you did.
“I won’t ask you again.”
Your lips parted and you realized he was forcing your panties into your mouth. The next thing that you knew, you were lying in the back seat of that car, your wrist hogtied to your ankles. And you thought sitting in the trunk would be uncomfortable. You were struggling and calling out for him and, as you expected, you were ignored.
“Get her back as fast as you can. I’ll keep things short with Stark,” Were the last words you heard before the door shut close and all your screaming was muffled.
You weren’t sure at which point you’d fallen asleep. As you laid there tied up, you thought a lot about him since there was nothing else to think about. You weren’t sure how he could love you and be so cruel at the same time.
That next morning, you awoke to sore limbs and makeup staining your pillow. Even though the car ride back was hell, you knew your punishment wasn’t over. You debated even getting out of bed, knowing what was to come.
You finally mustered the energy to clean yourself up, washing your face, and brushing your teeth. When you stepped back into your room, you were taken aback by what was sitting in the middle of your room. A giant, life-size brown bear was happily perched before your bed, holding balloons and a Tiffany’s gift bag.
It was exactly the opposite of what you were expecting today. You approached it cautiously, decided to sit and open up the present. You handled the bag carefully, finding an elegant white card sitting inside.
For my favorite girl on her birthday.
You sighed, knowing he probably picked all of this out before you betrayed him and probably ruined any sort of trust he had between you. You hadn’t even realized it was your birthday which was probably due to the fact that you had no phone or any contact with the outside world. There was also a jewelry box inside, a gorgeous, rose-gold tennis bracelet inside.
As you snapped it around your wrist, covering your bruises, you promised not to ask how much it cost. It would probably make you feel even worse about yesterday.
You finished getting dressed, deciding to head downstairs for breakfast. You found Steve sitting at a table out by the pool, reading through a newspaper like a grandpa. It seemed like he was expecting you because there were pancakes and eggs waiting on the table, “Morning,” You greeted awkwardly.
“Good morning, doll. Happy Birthday,” He responded, his eyes still focused on the newspaper.
“Thanks,” Taking a seat in front of him, you instantly moved to grab the syrup, but the rings on his finger caught your attention. Below, you could see his knuckles were red and purple, bruised like he’d been punching something … or someone. “Your hands …”
He folded his newspaper, taking a look at them himself. It didn’t seem to faze him as he folded them on his stomach, leaning back in his chair, “Your wrist,” He changed the subject and you wondered if he was amused by the fear in your eyes, “Do you like my gift?”
“Yeah, it’s beautiful, I love it … thank you,” Your mind was elsewhere, “What happened to your hands? Is that from last night?”
“Last night is a blur. I was so angry after your little stunt, I had to have a few drinks to even get through the rest of the night.”
“Really?” You tried to hold in your scoff, “You seem very chipper today.”
“Only because I get to see your beautiful face,” He countered, smirking.
Your eyes narrowed at him, “What did you do?”
“That’s a broad question-”
“Did you hurt him?”
“Him?” Steve raised an eyebrow, “You mean Peter? I thought about it … I’m still thinking about it actually. If he was smarter, yesterday would have never happened but you must’ve been pretty convincing. Poor kid, he probably thought you liked him.”
“None of it was his fault! I-I was just being stupid, I was using him and he was just trying to be a good guy. Steve, please.”
“If I did, you would probably start to actually listen. You’d never try one of those crazy stunts ever again-”
“I will listen! No more stunts, I’ll be an angel from now on,” You stood up from your chair, moving around the table, “I know you’re just trying to protect me. Peter tried to tell me that and I should’ve listened.” You grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly.
“That’s all I want,” He added sincerely and you nodded.
“I’ll pinky promise,” With your other hand, you held out your pinky. You thought Peter would be your way out but, here you were, begging to stay in order to keep him alive. Your pinkies wrapped around each other and you climbed into his lap. You kissed the sides of his mouth before kissing his lips.
“Soon, we’ll take a trip together, I know you’re itching to get away.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You kissed his lips again, “Your hands … what actually happened?”
“Punching bag,” He easily explained although you were expecting a tale of horror. Holding his hand, you brought his fist to your lips, kissing them gently, “That probably wouldn’t have happened a year ago … I think you make me more gentle.”
“That’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think? Turning a beast into a prince.”
“For some reason, I have faith in you.”
“Peter!” You perked up as soon as he entered the living room, not realizing how grateful to see that he was still in one piece. Sam, Bucky, and Steve seemed to exchange confused glances from their places on the couch.
Peter seemed baffled as well, “Am I in trouble or something?”
“No, we’re about to watch Coco. Wanna join?”
“There’s popcorn,” Sam added, stuffing his face.
“And cookies,” Bucky chimed in.
Peter smiled, unsure, as he looked to Steve for permission, “Join us, son.”
“Awesome,” Peter clapped, making his way over to the couch, “This one always makes me cry.”
“Y/N, I thought you said this one wasn’t sad,” Bucky eyed you. You shrugged, snuggling yourself further into Steve’s side. You tried to hide a mischievous smile and act like you weren’t hoping to see three grown men tear up from a Disney movie.
“Okay, press play,” You tapped Steve’s chest and he raised the remote.
“Wait,” Steve paused, “Are all three of your nails painted?”
i’m thinking maybe i’ll make a christmas themed part 3, we shall see :)
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I Lost Myself
Part Three of i’ve flown too close to the sun
Rating: 18+, Explicit
Pairing: Din Djarin x Bounty Hunter!Reader
Summary: You see someone from your past and Din is left picking up the pieces.
Warnings: Past abuse. Panic Attacks. Self-destructo vibes. Violence. Din being a possessive, protective boyfriend/lover who likes murder. SMUT.
A trembling hand yanks your skull back - forcing your cheek against the rough brush of facial hair that lines a razor-sharp jawline. There’s a burst of damp pain where Din sinks his teeth into your shoulder - his tongue stretching lazily over the mark he leaves.
Din you think - you hold it close to your belly. Din. Fucking Din.
And then you’re crying it out - hoarse and ragged - as he shoves his hips up against your ass - thrusting so deep you might just break. You’re swelling up with the climb of your orgasm - the swift touch of pleasure pulsing between your legs.
Is this it? Is this the time he finally destroys you completely - pulls you apart with his practiced hands and sweet tongue and thick, punishing cock?
“Stars - your cunt is so fucking tight,” he rasps.
You’re unbearably sore - inner thighs chafed and rubbed raw - and you don’t know how he’s still fucking you at such a frantic, brutal pace. It’s been hours of this - long, stretched out hours of sex ever since he’d told you his name. The pattern of the cockpit’s floor is no doubt imprinted into your skin - and oh your lower muscles are cramping as your core winds up - higher, faster - before you clamp down on him - walls convulsing into a choking vice. It causes him to groan into your scalp - twitch against you as he tries to slow himself down.
“How many is that?” he husks - as he trails his fingers across your leg- squeezing your flesh by the handful.
“You know - fuck stop doing that - it’s sensitive - it’s - I don’t know - five -maybe, six?” Your voice is wrecked - caught on something shattered, drained, and near-incoherent.
He’s really pushing it thinking that you remember absolutely anything at all about tonight - you’ve practically blacked out every time he manages to brush the head of his cock against your g-spot like some stupid magic sex wizard. How does he get so deep? How does he have sex like it is a coordinated attack - strategized and handled with a brute hand? Fingertips wrecking the nub of your clit - while he pries your thighs apart and ruts - grinding his hips all the way into your ass as if he could consume you and still - still - managing to kiss you like it matters - like it counts - like every time he wants you to cry from the tenderness of it.
He grips your jaw - thumb digging into the bone - wrenching your head to the side so that he can seal his mouth to yours - filthy and slow and wet as his tongue drags and strokes. “Definitely more than six,” he murmurs in between the slide of his lips.
The cockpit is in shadow - the stars giving nothing as they glimmer above in the trench of the galaxy. Far away - lost. Din is just shapes - just dark pieces of himself that are currently owning you in every way. You almost want his face - you want to see him in the light - trace his cheekbones with the pads of your fingers - the hooked line of his nose as he nuzzles it into your throat.
“Maker,” he rasps. “I never want to stop fucking you - you’re so damn pretty - so sweet and dangerous and - and - fuck I could be inside you forever.”
That’s undeserved. That’s inaccurate.
And perhaps he feels you stiffen with uncertainty because suddenly he’s got his muscular forearm pulled over your chest so he can bring you impossibly closer against him.
“You are sweet,” he growls. “Sweet - and - and maybe the kid and I are the only ones who know that. But - you are.”
It’s perfect - honeyed words that make your heart shudder in the well-guarded prison of your chest. You could cry, but you’re also tired - and throbbing - and wet - not even good wet - more like I have soaked the entire floor of this room and we’re gonna have to clean it with absolute precision before the baby wakes up and waddles all over it.
“I-I’m only sweet with you,” You slam your palm down on the hulking mass of his thigh as he gets in a particularly good stroke. There’s a brief pinch of pain - your walls swollen and barely able to take any more of this - and yet and yet. “Just - not - it’s not good for my rep to be sweet.”
“Damn right,” he snarls. “You can’t - you’re not allowed to be nice to anyone else.”
You almost laugh - almost snort - but Din sounds sincere enough that you hold it back - swallowing your tongue.
“You want another one?” he urges.
No. Fuck. Is he insane?
You bite your lip - arching your back enough that your ass shoves out against him. “Din,” you whisper - his cock seemingly getting harder at his own name. “Din - baby - I’m - I can’t - I need to stop. I really won’t be able to walk after this.”
He hushes you - broad hand smoothing your tangled hair. “One more and then I’m done. I know you can do it - c’mon, pretty girl. Just one more for me.”
He’s out of his mind. He’s out of his fucking mind.
But - okay. You’re not a quitter.
He quickens his pace - lowering his hips just a little so that he can cram his cock up into you - grazing against the inside of your pussy as he uses his fingers to draw tight circles around your overworked clit.
He keeps his mouth to your ear - soft and warm - his breath fanning across your face as he praises you. The words jumble together - losing their meaning until they’re throaty, desperate pleas and he’s already fucking got you - it’s a hurricane of pleasure in the center of your gut and you come - come violently - before you even know it's happening. Your scream is dry - strained and damn near demolished - as your cunt pulses around him and you bathe him in your slick - all over his thighs and groin and it makes him choke on his own spit.
“Fuck you filthy thing,” His hands bite into your hip. “Fuck you get so wet - so wet.”
He’s stammering now - his thrusts erratic and messy and you can hear what it sounds like - the gushing, squelch of his cock sliding in and out and you’re done - overheated - stripped like open nerves so you wrap your hand around the back of his head and tear into the full, wavy curls of his hair before ordering - “Come, Din.”
“Fuck - I -”
“Come inside me. I-I need it.”
And he does on command - for a while - the warm bloom of it so fucking deep like the press of his palm on your cheek - the slip of his lips on your throat.
The baby is in a mood. He’s been babbling for the last four hours in between bouts of tears and somber gurgling.
“He just ate all those crackers from Tatooine.”
“The last of them,” you point out as the child plays with the zipper on your vest before plugging it in his mouth. “No,” You tug it away. “That’s gross.”
“We’ll be on Nevarro in less than an hour,” Din says - exasperated. “He can have as much food there as he wants.”
You hum in agreement - rocking the child as you pet the wisps of hair on his fragile shell of a scalp.
“And you,” He turns - a banner of hyperspace shades glinting off the reflective surface of his helmet. “You are going to eat there, too. When was the last time you ate or slept? You look exhausted.”
You shift in your chair - the uncomfortable ache between your legs. REALLY?
“Uh well - why do you think that is?” Your tone is more biting than you mean it to be, but you are tired.
He freezes - gloved fingers tightening on the thruster. “I think you liked it.”
“Beside the point!” you snap. “No commenting on me looking like shit because you needed to-” Your eyes fall on the child’s upturned face - his curious gaze blinking up at you. “Needed to uh - dance with me all night.”
His helmet swings back to you sharply. “I didn’t say you looked like shit. You’re always beautiful - even when you’re tired.”
“Now you’re just trying to work me over.”
“Good. Maybe - I’ll get lucky.” And even through the damn modulator - he manages to sound seductive.
You huff. “Give me - I don’t know - a day to recover.”
He makes a smug sound - sitting up straighter in his chair. Your mouth quirks.
The desert on Nevarro is jagged and tough - low mountains drenched in red earth and littered with dried green brush. The ground is always hot - baked from the natural volcanic makeup. Obsidian lakes of lava flats. The gasp of smoke wafting over bright, orange pools.
It’s a shit town - dusty and small - devoid of life beyond the stragglers and the runaways who have fled their spotted histories. But it’s also - comforting?
You know what to expect when you get there - know that it’s now okay to venture into the hub of this place since you and Mando had removed the threat of Moff Gideon and the fungus of the Imperial remnant. They’d handled it in a violently spectacular fashion. You nearly get wet at the memory of Mando saving them with the jetpack.
Now - you can relax with the child and Din without the unsettling feeling that you'll be murdered. You can eat and maybe get buzzed as a balm for your very tender muscles and then struggle back to the Razor Crest and sleep for days in Din’s deliciously powerful arms.
The cantina is bustling - golden light spilling warm over the night-touched sand. The resounding laughs and cheers and slurred chatter. Live music pumping from some ramshackle band of locals.
Din moves past you to walk ahead - always on guard when entering a new room - always forming his body as a barrier between you and whatever danger may be around the corner. The baby coos happily in his floating pram - recognizing the Cantina and most likely the promise of food.
“Soon, cutie,” you murmur as you rub his ears. “I know you’re hungry.”
Mando makes his way deep into the bar and it’s almost comical to see how the crowd splits away from him - expressions of caution - apprehension - some even twisted in fear.
And as the masses grant Din a wide berth - as you get a clear glimpse of the bar and the people waiting for drinks, you see someone familiar.
It’s - well - it’s as if your entire world stops - as if everything goes to syrup - coagulated blood - slow and dazed and labored and your heart is bursting to the point of pain - the entire acidic contents of your stomach rising up your throat...
He’s leaning against the sleek bar - his black hair swept back over his forehead. The slash of his bearded jaw - those coal eyes that had reminded you so much of the smooth, silky expanse of space and all of the haunting dangers at the end of it. Your hand flutters to your throat - a cold sweat breaks out over your brow.
Din stops when he realizes you aren’t following him. He tilts his helmet over his shoulder to check on you before doing a dramatic double-take.
You must...you must look scared.
Your skin is too hot. Every breath is sluggish.
Why were you here to begin with?
The baby chirps from his bed, but it feels far away - everything feels far away.
Din is immediately in front of you - his gloved hands securely on your shoulders - his helmet tipped towards you - shining bright and nearly blinding as he leads you to the corner of the cantina. When he speaks, his voice is comforting- lilting - as if he was buried inside you and stroking your face. Making sure you were with him - making sure he had you. It bruises something in your chest.
“What is it?”
You try and reply and all you can do is shudder - whole body convulsing and teeth chattering inside the seal of your mouth. You shut your eyes tightly before you feel his palms on your cheek - warm - tender.
Din. Din. Din.
You gaze up at him and all you manage is “Please - I - I need to go back to the ship.”
Din whirls around - his helmet scanning the room as he tries to pinpoint why the fuck you’ve gone catatonic.
“Stay,” you press - trying to steady your heart. “Meet-meet with Karga. Get food for the baby.”
He snorts - unconvinced - before twisting back toward you - holding you under his arm. He’s never been this obvious - this public with his affection. He’s - he’s physically protecting you because it’s the only way he knows how - wrapping his body around yours despite not even knowing the truth of your fear.
He leans forward - jamming his hand beneath your hair and hauling you against his chest.
“What is wrong,” he hisses against your ear - his tone bleeding frustration before it almost devolves into a plea. “Please tell me. You’re...this isn’t like you.”
“The ship,” you grind out. “I’ll tell you on the ship - just please can I go?”
“I’m not letting you walk back there alone.”
You exhale - clenching your jaw - biting your tongue to get your head on straight. You need to show him you’re okay or he’ll never let you leave.
“Mando. I’ve been defending myself for a long damn time. I’ll be okay. Karga is going to take 15 minutes.”
As if one cue - Karga spots Mando from afar and shouts his name and then he shouts yours and at the corner of your vision - you spot that perfectly familiar shape, that profile you know and fear - it straightens - it turns and oh fuck fuck fuck-
“Gonna go,” you whisper. “Just get the pucks and come back to me.”
And before he can stop you, you make a run for it. It’s immature - it’s weak - but you don’t give a shit. Your terror is a live thing - slithering and bloated and filling your insides with an oily mass.
You nearly collapse when you get outside the bar - the sand shapeless and giving beneath your feet. It’s cold tonight - blessedly cold and the moons are achingly pale and as purple-blue as the icy fog on Maldo Kreis. You drink down the clean air before following the trail of the moons’ shine as it guides you back to the Razor Crest.
You knew that face. It was branded deep - sealed inside the tissue of your fucking brain stem.
Your body hurts - it hurts so badly and tears spring to your eyes as you stumble to your knees. There’s a prick at your throat - a knife held fast and tight as it cuts into your flesh.
“Do better,” he demands. “This is sloppy work and you’d be dead if I pushed this farther into your neck.”
“I-I’m so tired,” you sob - your bones shifting in your wrist from where he’d nearly broken it in his grip. “Can I please sleep...can I rest just for a little bit?”
He stands slowly - removing the blade so that you can get up with him. Finally...finally.
He grabs your jaw - thumb pushing into your skin. His voice is unflinchingly sweet - and thus suspicious. He’s looking at you with that predator black-eyed stare - the one with all that well-tuned emptiness inside it. He could either release you or sink his teeth into you.
“You don’t rest because you will never rest,” he murmurs - touching the weeping slit on your neck - the drops of blood. “You will fight for the rest of your life - move for the rest of your life - run and hide and kill with the kind of grace - the kind of talent - that only I can teach you.”
“Fight me again,” His hand is hot - the skin of his cheeks burned near red from the pulse of the sun above them. He is radiant - stunning in the way an exploding star is. “Don’t get lazy. Remember what happened last time.”
The scarred flesh beneath your ribs pounds.
“I remember,” you reply and he grins.
You didn’t mean for him to find you like this. You’re embarrassed - ashamed and you can’t properly decipher how Din is looking at you - if he’s pissed - if he’s sad or annoyed or disgusted - it’s all just blank - the chrome shell staring at you with..with nothing.
Even the baby is peeking at you from his blankets - concerned.
He’d been gone maybe half an hour - his arms are filled with bags of what you assume is food - the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread and you bet he threatened Karga or at least someone in that bar to get it and get it fast.
“Are you...are you drunk?”
The liquor burns in your throat - curdles your belly and you tip backward onto the cot - the jangle of the metal springs vibrating inside the hull.
“It’s just a couple - a couple of shots,” you reply - trying to not slur.
“On an empty stomach,” he accuses before he quietly puts the bags down. “I’m going to set the kid up with some food and then - we are going to fucking talk.”
Great. Swell. Let’s dig into my childhood - adulthood - fucking lifehood trauma.
You chug half of the bottle.
“What is this?” He doesn’t sound angry - despite the modulator - despite the cold of it - he sounds worried - almost incredulous.
You’re hunched over on the cot - your knees drawn up against your chest as you tilt the glass of purple alcohol from one hand to the next.
He sighs loudly before walking over to the bed. When he sits - the single white-light from above sparks a flame of color across the mirrored scalp of his helmet The rest of the room is in shadows - in pleasant darkness and a piece of you - most of you - wants to creep away from him - crawl into the sweet, black nothing.
He removes his glove and flexes his broad hand over your ankle. The skin is golden and smooth - it’s a handsome fucking hand, which is a weird thing to get hung up on. These are the fragments of him you receive- the bread crumbs he gives you because right now he wants to knead you into submission - get you to open up and trust him.
And you do trust him...that’s just - that’s just how it is now.
His palm is flushed - slightly damp from his glove - as he drags it over your bare foot. When he speaks - his tone is kind - indulgent.
“What - what did that guy mean to you?”
“You guessed who I was looking at?”
“Only new face I’ve seen in that bar in a long time.”
Of course - Din is the best bounty hunter in the galaxy. He has a photographic memory - he recalls the finest details at the drop of a hat. He is pragmatic - calculating - severe in a very attractive way. He would know - of course - he would know.
He squeezes your ankle. “Sweetheart - “
That man is a mark on your soul - tar coating you into something immobile - heavy and hideous. He’s around you - wrapping your bones in his tender vines - his touch like something vile and cursed despite the forgiving, gentle tone he would use when he spoke to you.
“He-he - Maker - I don’t know how to even start...”
You take another heavy swig of the alcohol - feel it turn your belly to warm comfort - loosening your tongue. Din clicks his teeth - and you know that he’s holding back on chastising you. You can practically hear his jaw ticking as he restrains himself.
Where to begin? Where to even begin?
You could show him, though.
Suddenly you sit up - snatching Din’s hand and yanking him towards you.
“What the fuc-”
You force his hand underneath your shirt - pressing it against the ridge of a scar below your ribs. He’d asked about it before and you had flat out lied to him - Bar fight, Mando. You should have seen the other guy.
He stares at your stomach before he begins to caress it - feels it with a dawning sort of realization.
“He did that to you?” He’s appalled - his shoulders tensing up - his other hand clenching into a fist at his hip.
“He trained me, I guess,” you answer lamely. That was an oversimplification.
Din says nothing - just continues to stroke your flesh - thumb digging into your side. He’s waiting for you to keep going.
“Trained is - is not exactly what it was,” you finally admit. “It - well it was abuse. I didn’t have parents or protection of any kind. He was really all I had to an extent. I didn’t understand that what he was putting me through was bad - not at the time - and mostly because I had never known a kind hand in my life. I just thought that was how it was.” You swallow - your mouth very dry. “He terrified me and once I had an out, I left and I never looked back - didn’t think I’d see him again.”
He’s still - perfectly still - a great, unmoving statue of shimmering Beskar.
“Din,” You touch his shoulder - curling your fingers into his cape. You want to shove your face against his neck - taste his warmth and that soapy, musk that coats his skin. He’s broad - so broad and tall - possessive and protective and rides for you like no one else.
It’s so strange - so unfamiliar - to have someone in your corner.
“I’m - um - fuck,” He clears his throat - and you feel his fingers tremble against your skin. “Maker - I - I’m gonna go back there -”
You grab his hand - shove it up against your chest - keep it folded over the throb of your heart. “No - you aren’t.”
You already know - he’s not good with his anger - and it is so like Din to wish he had control - wish he had the ability to change the past and to have saved you from something that was already intrinsic to who you were - your foundation. Your soil.
He says your name - swirled hot over the grit of a growl. “He - he fucking hurt you - I can’t - “
He can barely get the words out - his fury building and only obvious to you because you know his body language better than anyone. That anger is always something to behold - it’s honestly arousing because he is beautiful for it but - this is not his fight - and certainly not one you’re willing to risk him for.
You lean over to put the bottle on the floor. Your hands are still tight on his knuckles as you lie back against the cot. “Din - can you just stay here with me for a while? I just want to sleep - I want to sleep so badly and I - I won’t be able to if you leave and - “
It’s like everything inside him goes out - deflates at the sound of you pleading.
He hushes you. He uncurls his fist to cradle your jaw with his broad hands before cupping your cheeks - thumb brushing over your lower lip until you settle under him.
“Okay, pretty,” he agrees - stroking your hair. “Sleep and I’ll be here.”
The blood tastes like metal. There’s a cut along your gums - your hands are slippery with your kill. You’re gasping for breath - a rib aching from an obvious fracture, a jammed finger joint.
The body jerks beneath you - a final twinge as you tug the blade out of its lifeless skull.
“Yes,” Dechard croons - his nails biting into your shoulder - squeezing the curves of muscle that he has honed with brutality. “Perfect work.”
You did good. You made him proud. Your lips twitch on a smile and before you can look up at him - he threads his fingers through your hair and rips - your head flies back forcing your throat into a painful irregular shape. You cry out - choking on the dust-streaked air.
He chuckles. “You let your guard down. Right then.” He tugs harder. “That was a mistake and I don’t treat mistakes with kindness, little one.”
“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “I-I didn’t mean to.”
“You’ll fight me,” he orders. “FIght me until you don’t forget.”
Your name...you hear your name - frantic and beating against the side of your head. There are hands on you - hands all over you - No...no..no, please...
“Listen to me - fuck - stop struggling - listen to me - I’m not him. I’m not him. I’ve got you,” he is hauling you against him - his forearms trapping you - locking you into the bulk of his chest as each breath is punched out of your lungs. Your nails scratch at smooth metal before you find warm flesh - your vision blurred - unfocused. “Stop, baby, - it’s okay - ow shit -”
You’re awake - you’re with Din and on a ship and miles away from your home planet, but you can’t stop crying.
There’s a crash - metal clattering across the hull - echoing and too loud and you realize he’s tossed his helmet. You freeze - there’s the brush of his jaw as he presses his lips to your temple. “Feel me,” he coaxes. “Feel me. I’m right here.”
His kisses are sweet - frenzied as he puts his lips to the side of your face again and again and you won’t turn your head - you can’t - it’s not dark enough.
“You’re safe, baby. You’re fucking safe, pretty girl. It’s alright.”
“I’m so sorry,” you sob - your lungs constricting to nothing - panic violently flooding your system. You shove the back of your hand over your mouth - trying to stifle each anxious gasp. You didn’t mean to do that - to break so spectacularly - to shatter like this and to scream awake because of stupid, ridiculous nightmares. You were a fucking hunter - you didn’t cry or turn away when your tragedies reared their ugly heads - remember us - remember how low you got - how weak you were - stars - you didn’t know you’d react like this - to feel those old wounds reopen and spray their viscera all over your brand new life that had been so good to you.
Your torso is seizing- you can barely expel oxygen - everything is tightening up as if you were on the peak of a soul-shattering orgasm, but nothing comes. There is no relief from this. You are on the precipice of something and Din is embracing you so intensely - as if he could climb inside you. You need more.
You tug his wrist to your nose - savoring the salt of his sweat, the balmy, smoky residue of him.
“I need you,” you whisper. “Want to feel you. Please...please Din.”
Din doesn’t say another word - just rummages around behind him - stretching his arm out while keeping you locked to his body. The lights are shut off completely.
He makes a low sound in his throat - curling his hand around your jaw and dragging your face to his and then there is the warm, wet touch of his mouth. It is hurried - desperate - and it burns you - overwhelms you as you hold onto the thick curls of his hair and let him fuck you with his tongue as his lips move against yours.
You claw at his pants - your thighs spread around his hips as you lock him to you with your knees. He helps you, shoving at your clothes - nearly tearing your underwear to the side - spitting on his hand - stroking his cock - lining himself up before burying himself to the hilt. He fucks you into the damn mattress - fast - pulling a high, fragile noise from your throat every time he bottoms out.
It’s not even kissing at this point - just lips close together- barely skimming against the other because he keeps thrusting into you harder and you can’t catch your breath and instead it’s all just a disjointed mess of Din Din Din and fuck make me feel good and please...and your hands are splayed across the Beskar that covers the muscles of his shoulder blades - scrambling and trying to find your grip -
He doesn’t form words - just deep, raspy grunts as he clutches the metal frame above your head - bracing the enormous weight of his body from crushing you as he angles himself upward until his cock is dragging against the tender, patchy spot inside you - and then you’re climaxing - going to mush - boneless, weightless - near sobbing as Din follows you down - his teeth clamping into your shoulder.
You manage to force him out of the rest of his armor. As much as you’d like to cuddle a pile of Beskar, you want him naked - want him raw and on top of you so he can enfold you into the thin, shitty bed.
They lie like that - curled around each other in the darkness. Your skin sticks to Din’s as he traces patterns into your upper back. His pointed chin juts into your skull.
“I thought you wanted a break,” he teases.
It’s a relief - his playful tone - his lack of anger.
“I made an exception,” you mumble into his chest - the hair tickling your nose. “I needed it.”
He makes a soft, content mouth sound before falling silent.
An hour passes...maybe less...maybe more. You focus on sensations - Din’s bareness - his almost volcanic heat as he crushes you against him. The textures on his form - the indents and humps of muscle - his limp cock still wet with you that rests on your thigh.
He exhales sharply and you know he’s about to say something as his grip tightens.
His mind most likely firing off ideas and solutions as soon as you'd told him about your past. Din likes to fix you.
“Darling girl,” he begins - brushing your hair behind your ears. “Give me his name. Just need his name and I’m gonna fucking hunt him down and peel him apart - break every bone - slow and painful -“ he nudges his nose against yours - his lips unbearably soft as his tongue darts out to taste the inside of your mouth.
You shiver - let him press his warm skin along your bare shoulder - everything is nice like this - safe. You’re safe from that particular pain - protected from Dechard and his...his control. “My sweet thing,” Din continues as he tilts your chin up. “My gorgeous, perfect thing - tell me his name.” His fingers dig into the meat of your arm - not painful - just solid, sturdy pressure. “I’ll kill him for you. I swear it - I want to - I - I fucking need to.”
“Din,” you murmur. “It’s - it is pointless.”
He pauses - the low hum of a growl as he exhales through his nose - trying to steer himself from anger. It still shocks you - how easily he slips his skin - loses the tender clarity he possesses when he’s simply Din and he’s on this ship with you and the baby. You forget sometimes who he is at his core - the predatory grace that paints his killing.
Sometimes... sometimes you forget that’s you, too.
He grabs your wrists - circles them gently.
“It’s not pointless,” he replies. “I-I have never seen you react that way. You’re always so...I don’t know self-possessed? Calm? You looked so frightened and -” He swallows something burdensome before revealing: “It broke me a little bit.”
“And now you tell me that he abused you - “
You reach for his face - stroke the sharp angle of a cheekbone. “I know you want to save me, Din.” He pulls back from you and you can feel that he’s going to fight you on this - deny it. “I don’t want you to go after him - I need you here and with me. I can’t have him - have him hurt you or - no don’t snort - he’s fucking good at what he does and you may be better but it’s still dangerous.” You sigh - helpless - pathetic. “I don’t - I don’t want him to infect what we have here.” You lean forward and kiss him gently. “Please.” You kiss him harder - possessive - with everything you have to give. “Please stay with me. Please be with me here...with the kid...just please understand.”
He is absolutely motionless for a solid five minutes. Finally, he groans - scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fine. I-I won’t go after him. You shouldn’t persuade me like that - the whole begging thing - it really fucking works.”
“I was gonna try through sexual favors if you didn’t agree the first time around.”
He stiffens. “Really?”
You climb on top of him before you leisurely slither down his body - massaging the tight, bunched parts of him - the leftover scar tissue. “Thank you, Din,” you smile before you dip your tongue over the divots of his stomach muscles and he jerks up on his elbows.
“Hey - shit - that’s brib-”
“Thank you, Din,” as you slide down between his legs and thank him again and again.
You wish it had ended there.
Please Comment/Reblog. Let me know if you’re enjoying this heh.
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The Auction: Part 4
“You don’t need to be nervous,” He whispered in your ear, his hand brushing against your knee under the table, “we won’t hurt you.”
Caged between Steve and Bucky, caged between two super soldier bodies made of muscle snd undeniable strength, was the most nerve-wracking situation you’d ever been in. Being trapped between them at a dinner table, with Steve’s hand on your knee and Bucky leaning into you to tell you some tall tale about a giant, you were a ball of jumbled nerves.
“I know you won’t hurt me. I mean based on your reputation for self-sacrifice, it’s likely that you’d hurt yourself before you hurt me…” Your voice trailed off as the two men stared at you with growing intensity.
“Why are you so nervous? You’ve had dinner before with men, haven’t you?” When glasses of wine were set on the table, Steve grabbed one for you and Bucky, leaning over the table to set them before you both.
“Yeah, but they haven’t exactly been stellar. The last time I went on a date with a man…well it was online dating which my friend pushed me to start which is the start of everything that could’ve gone wrong-“
“Relax.” Bucky rubbed your upper back with his right hand while he used his metal hand to cup your chin and make you look at him. “You don’t have to be scared of us, darling.”
He was beautiful. His eyes were bright and so blue, they almost looked crystalline. His jaw was well defined and he was ‘classically handsome’ with the charm and charisma that could’ve romanced the pants off any woman, in the ’40s or the modern age.
Steve had the same ability, the same beautiful robustness that would’ve drawn any woman to him. Only, if history was correct, and his dating experience was what it was when Steve was the shyer of the two. Steve was the man who had less luck with women because of slight awkwardness and the sickly man he was before the serum.
“I don’t have a lot of good experiences with men.” You admit abashedly. “The few dates I’ve been on in the last few years have been awkward and uncomfortable and the kind of men who are attracted to…”
You shook your head and reached for your glass of wine with urgency. You recoiled your hand and lift her glass to your lips, downing almost the entire glass before you set it back down. The wine produced warmth in your mouth and throat down to your belly, the warmth was pleasant and enduring yet even that wasn't a comparison to Steve’s hand on your knee.
“Bucky and I went on a double date to Coney Island this one summer weekend. He went with this redhead he called Dot, and spent all our money for the train ride home trying to win a stuffed bear for her.” Steve cracked a grin, speaking about Bucky but talking to you.
“It was 3 dollars.” Lucky added, draping his arm across the back of the chair you were sitting on, his fingers brushing against your shoulder.
“Spent the rest of our money on Coney dogs.” Steve inched closer to you, ignoring the rest of the people at the table.
“I suppose Coney Island is famous for its hot dogs.” There was laughter at the tip of your tongue, your smile building.
“Had to hitch a ride in the back of a freezer truck,” Bucky spoke with fondness and nostalgia.
“Can’t even get a hot dog for $3 anymore.” You added, the laugh slipping from tout tongue before you could stop it.
“I think you could get all the…hotdogs you wanted.” Bucky shot a smirk your way, blatantly and boldly flirting with you.
“Shameless!” You wad up a napkin and tossed it his way as you picked up on the euphemism for ‘hotdog’, the flirtations bringing another flash of warmth to your belly, as you truly settled into comfort between the two men.
Comfort and ease as they made you feel like you were the only woman in the world who mattered.
You were stirred by a steady knock on your door that had you striding toward the wood separating your apartment from the rest of the floor. As your bare feet shuffled across the wooden floor, you wiped your hands down the front of your dress, the water on your hands temporarily darkening the colour of the cloth, as you dispelled the remaining droplets of water.
“Just a minute!” You were just about to leave your apartment to do some last-minute errands before you were supposed to leave with Steve and Bucky.
However, when you opened the door, you knew those errands were not going to happen. When you opened the door, electric blue eyes made brighter by the smile on his face, bore into you. He was leaning against the doorframe with a coffee cup in one hand and a thick envelope in the other.
“Bucky..!” You were surprised by more than just his arrival at your door, but given the circumstances that were revolving around this weekend and your nervousness at being alone with the two super soldiers, you chose to focus solely on his sudden appearance at your door.
“I brought you a coffee,” he handed you the cup and wait until you took it and thanked him before he mentioned the envelope, “Nat wanted me to give you this.”
When he stretched out his hand with the envelope, you slowly grabbed it and turned it over. Your name was scrawled in black ink across the middle of the plain white envelope, with only the initials N.R in the top right corner.
“Right,” you were puzzled, “Natasha left for a mission in Lagos…”
You were hoping you could speak to her before you left for your weekend away with Steve and Bucky, however, Natasha left in the early hours last night with the promise that she would call at some point during the weekend.
“Do you know what it is?” You asked, lifting your head.
“I have no idea,” Bucky’s attention moved past you to the bags you had behind you, “need help with those?”
You looked over your shoulder to the luggage tags that were already added and the contents unknown to you, somehow packed by Natasha before she left. She had kept your destination a mystery and you’d be foolish to think you could get anything out of Steve or Bucky.
“You know I have no idea what’s in those?” You pursed your lips and furrowed your eyebrows.
“Nat’s trying to throw you for a loop, isn’t she?” Bucky questioned with mild amusement.
“She thinks I need spontaneity.” You lift the cup to your lips, catching the sweet scent of vanilla and caramel, and slightly burnt sugar. “You know my coffee order?”
Bucky was the one to look a tad nervous now. He had shifted his weight from the right foot to the left and you could see that he was biting the inside of his cheek ever so slightly.
“Nat gave it to me,” Bucky spoke of your coffee order, your usual sweet pick-me-up you rewarded yourself with when you got Natasha’s order. “She also told me you have an aversion to flying.”
You part your lips and sipped lightly on the coffee that was still a little too hot, yet was incredibly pleasing to your tongue and tummy. When the delicious concoction of coffee and sugar mix had hit your tongue, you felt a little more eased and normalized despite not working today or the weekend.
“I do have a slight fear of flying.” Anytime you had to fly, your stomach would be unsettled and your mind would race with every possible outcome that could be devastating.
And that was nothing to say about the way people looked at you when you flew or the whispers behind your back. The quiet comments about how your weight would've been enough to bring the plane down on its own.
“You can hold my hand, ” Bucky offered, his brilliant blue’s looking you up and down appreciatively.
“It’s not like that, it’s…” You frowned and decided to move past the topic altogether, “what airport are we leaving from? And what time do we have to be there?”
You moved toward your luggage, ticking the envelope under your arm while grabbing one of the bags.
“I can take them,” Bucky was quick to offer, quick to sidle up to you and take the other bag by the handle, “let me take them for you. Just enjoy your coffee.”
With his instance, you let Bucky take them both. When he started to move out of your apartment, you hid your smile behind your coffee cup and followed him out the door.
“So the airport,” you started speaking as you followed him toward the elevator, “I’m guessing by your lack of an answer that it’s private?”
“The plane and the runway belong to Stark.” Bucky glanced over his shoulder making sure you were still behind him, “Steve and I thought you’d like to fly private if you had the chance.”
Realistically, that would have eased a lot of your worries and anxieties. Flying private would-be a once in a lifetime opportunity, who knew when you would get another chance to fly in a private jet on a private runway?
“You’re pulling out all the stops aren’t you?” You stepped into the elevator and pressed the designated button to take the elevator down to the underground parking.
“This is our once chance to impress the pretty dame,” Bucky was only separated from you by the thickness of your luggage, “every other time Steve and I have tried to flirt or show our interest, someone hasn’t caught on.”
“Sounds like this person is a bit of a blockhead.” You played along, your lips twitching as they threatened to form a smile.
“No,” Bucky sighed, “but God is she gorgeous. Beautiful inside and out. Eyes so captivating they put the stars to shame.”
You wanted to laugh and sob. You wanted to laugh at the romantics that seemed atypical yet heart-stopping and cry at how spectacular he made you feel by his words alone. You wanted to cry by the tone of voice and the lack of any joking matter, the lack of any scorn or disgust.
“Must be special to have stolen your attention.” The elevator stopped and the doors opened to the underground parking, yet neither of you moved.
“You are, Y/N,” Bucky spoke with genuine and deep truth rooted at every word, “you have no idea how badly we want you.”
To hear that from him, to hear the wantonness behind his voice and the certainty in his eyes had created a momentary shift.
Bucky and Steve wanted you.
They wanted you. They wanted you for everything you were and nothing you weren’t.
“Where are we going anyway?” you questioned to distract yourself from crying.
“Sorry sweetheart,” Bucky stepped off the elevator with your luggage in his hands, “I promised Steve I'd keep it a secret.”
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Do you really think that virgo risings look seductive and foxy 💅
Not only that I also think they're the most underrated besides Aquarius Rising😭 People really think Mercury children can be plain or look like "aliens"💀 (I have heard SO MANY PEOPLE said this!! maybe its me but i dont see it guys). Let's do Virgo Rising some justice shall we:)
Virgo Rising/ Mercury in aspects to ASC
first thing first, they literally look like dolls. (esp the women omg)Think expressive eyes, pointy/slimmer and long noses and curvy lips ( not necessarily thick but more like the shape ). even people with more melanin can look a bit paler naturally!!
so many people are gonna come for my neck but i'm a simp for mercury people so i'll say it: they look GORGEOUS without makeup. not in a taurus rising way but wayyyy more delicate?!🤣 baby face without makeup though HAHAHA
these natives usually are CRAZY about their own health as they're prone to a lot of random or some distinctive allergy/diseases or nutrition issues and their health are not necessarily the best if not well aspected or there are no other placements to cancel out(6H Aquarius)
smartass. no they really are. as a kid, they probably traveled a lot or had access to a lot of knowledge about the world and different cultures! grow up reading books or knowing a lot of random fun facts🌸 (Sagittarius 4H)
believe in knowledge is power, ALWAYS learning smth new or interesting🖤
poker face. they have this worse than ANY other earth rising. saturn rising looks very "stern" and dry but mercury/virgo rising simply looks so soooo mean💀 yes the rumours are true, these individuals invented resting bitch face. can literally be browsing for tortilla in Walmart and strangers would think they're contemplating on killing someone. (true story)
the funniest thing is after some period of denial most virgo risings are now aware of their RBF and why do i feel like they secretly like it??😃😃
quiet and peaceful aura when they're not talking. HOWEVER the peaceful part may only come out when they know you well. if not most of the time they're just quiet and a bit anxious (mercury effect) will try to cover this up by putting on their RBF again🤣
kindhearted. mom friend of the group. even if they have the most underdeveloped, stereotypically "childish" or "immature" placements, their virgo rising will always take over. my friend whos a sagittarius sun/moon(yes, she's doing okay dont worry💀) but she has virgo as her rising sign!! would always complain on and on and get super mad at us about how annoying we are when we're drunk and passed out on the floor, but would ALWAYS give us water, take off our makeup, (magically) change us into our pajamas( she even color-coordinate them) and would set a timer every 10 minutes to go back and make sure we didn't choke on our own puke💀💀
random waves of sadness when they're by themselves. identity crisis as bad as saturn but not as career centered but rather about literally everything. as a child the environment they grew up in could have lack a lot of structure or had wayyy too much rules they had to follow, they feel as if they always have to stick to a certain way of life to stay sane🥺
not rly the type to say it but they'd rather show you.
observant in terms of people. their understanding of human minds are kinda scary tbh😀💀 could have been sooo into psychology
attentive. you'd be surprised. they remember everything you said to them. the good AND the bad. don't be shocked when they pull up with a yellow piñata just because you told them that one time a million years ago that you wanted one. yes they remember. (cancer 11H)
when they're under the influence they become someone else. pArTy animals. will jump on the table and start showing off moves you didn't know they could pull. "go big or go home" mentality when wasted. (leo 12H)
will regret everything the next morning. will act as if they don't care tho🤣
randomly walk down the memory lane for fun: get embarrassed by thinking of that one time they did something embarrassing.
SO SOOO sensitive and sensible. this is probably true to most earth rising! strangely, virgo rising in particular has the power to see through one's words to predict their "real" emotions and intentions.
knows when you're lying. they can smell the guilt in the air 10 minutes before you start to speak. i don't know how they do this, they just do. will start pressing you for answers if they can tell you're being sketchy
tight circle of my friends > a lot of acquaintances
don't get me wrong. they're extremely sociable when needed, are SO good with their words and the way they carry themselves just scream professional!!! 😆
need a lot of independence to work efficiently. probably somewhere they're not able to hear others and too much random noises. they also tend not to stick to one's outdated routine for too long, constantly looking for methods to improve productivity (6H Aquarius)
will judge you for your mess of a life😀😄but will still love&accept you. way more comfortable with emotions than typical earth rising.
ROUNTINES. the type of people who religiously follow a certain routine. for example another friend i know that has virgo rising takes her shower at 8 and then will maker a glass of tea by 9. I feel like she has been repeating the same rountine, exact to the minute for a couple of years now....
in love with the smell of fresh linens, clean sheets, shiny countertops and windows. they may not always be a clean freak but a lot of them find cleaning to be very relaxing?? it's like an emotional outlet for them😭 watch these individuals starting to dust the shelves and mop the floor when they're having some slight in inconvenience in their life as a way to destress HAHHA
may come from a very religious family too!! could have lived apart from their parents when younger! (Sagittarius 4H)
education FIRST. they understand how important their education is and the weight of what a reputable diploma/degree can do to their professional life. may be very traditional when it comes to education. (taurus 9H)
health conscious people. always learning about cool tips to improve their health. the first to get a supplement after doing an extensive research on the product!!
grammar nazi. there i said it don't even fight me on this 😃😃😃
sexually assertive. look like prudes but will fuck your brain out. they like to be on top. SUPER FREAKY SO DAMN DOMINANT AND DEMANDING IN BED LIKE i'm never taking this back. (aries 8H)
even in dating scenarios, they need some kind of established connection before having casual sex with someone. not that they can't get any, they're just super freakin picky(capricorn 5H)
SEXY WITHOUT TRYING. do you know how those movies about "nerds" taking off their glasses and braces and instantly become attractive? y'all Virgo rising don't even have to do all that🤣 their charm is so unique and elegant. SO GOOD WITH WORDS I REPEAT SO SO GOOD WITH WORDS
i have to stress it again. can someone please explain to me what is it about then thats so seductive?? like i'll beg my friends who have virgo rising to let me include their pictures to show y'all what i mean. their beauty is like Scorpio rising's intimidating nature + Cancer rising's angelic aura 🥺
if placed with even more beneficial placements they'll demonstrate a crazy amount of management skills and administrative abilities.
once developed, they make spectacular writers, singers, content managers, literally anything that relate to communication (gemini 10H)
pretty good w their own finance but spend millions on their loved one and on self care. (Libra 2H)!
a need to always look put together. so if you get to see them looking crusty, they love you.
they tend to have this BIG need to nurture, to take care of people. omg did i mention that they may also have to take care of their siblings when they were little?? parents for sure put a lot of pressure on them.
attracted to people who lean more on the loner side, who are "different" in some way, people they can save, people with pure goodness in them but rather not show it, people who are lost (pisces 7H)
i'm sorry but virgo rising, especially with libra/7H influence yall attract so much drama for what. and like since they're nice and HATE conflic, they wouldn't just lose it on you. they'd document everything you said and done, screenshot every message before converting everything into a pdf and transfer it to a cloud file. cross them again and everything will be send to your employers.🥰 one step ahead of you dear. ( i'm not even jk guys i saw sooo many virgo risings do this remind me never to fw them in the future🤣 )
like most earth rising, they're fiercely protective of their friends:) however, virgo rising literally see their friends as their family (cancer 11H) or the family they never had in some way, they would try to show you love by fixing all of your problems.🥺🥺🥺
realistic. yes the idea of running off with your lover to neverland sounds nice but it won't pay this month's bills.
complex relationship with their siblings, very defensive of them too (scorpio 3H)
their dream is to be rich. why you ask? so they can travel and continue to thrive in knowledge. they're actually so adventurous🕊
i notice virgo risings can pull off darker colours. they can wear a wholeass black outfit but would still look good
they just look so clean😭😭😭😭
their sense of humour is so fucked up. like i thought my gemini mercury was sick until i met a virgo rising💀💀 gosh they'd make fun of you and you'd b like wait what😀 and they say it with a dead serious face too sklsks I CANT- (scorpio 3H)
honourable people. when they did something wrong, they carry the guilt with them forever😭 omg come here babies lemme hug yall
THEY LOVE PEOPLE WHO LIVE LIFE WITH NO REGRETS. they think thats the best mentality. but they highkey dislike people who are disloyal, who have literally no boundaries
oh alsoooo boundaries issue🥰 if you're a hugger they'd be speechless and look physically uncomfortable but dont worry they probably aren't use to it HAHAHAH
I wrote this in 8 hours and have not proofread this yet but I'll post it anyways so my virgo rising bestie can see it and respond to me heheheh🤣 have fun reading this guys! lemme know what yall think!
heres my rising series
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