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piecksz · 3 years ago

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red riding hood

pairing: sukuna x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, dark content, non con, degradation, brief mention of blood, brief mention of alcoholism, corruption, dacryphilia, loss of virginity, forced breeding, finger sucking, choking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, explicit language

wc: 4.5k+

summary: bad news falls upon your small town that there’s been a wolf in the woods responsible for the death of many wandering villagers, but one impulse decision to take a shortcut to your grandmother’s house leads you right to the beast, and he’s nothing like the stories you’ve heard.

a/n: if you’re not comfortable with dark themes pls do not interact! seriously, even if you’re curious this post is not the one to experiment with. this was originally written for my bf because she’s a little whore for non con and sukuna, n like im ngl i wasn’t planning for the warning list to start looking like the fuckin decleration of independence but shit here u go :p

The winter’s unforgiving blanket of snow crunched underneath your feet as you toiled up the dune’s steep ascent. Your boots were dusted in its powder, the snow’s crystals glimmering underneath the ill lighting of the moon like sugar. The cold season didn’t spare the landscape of the forest, and what was once evergreen paradise paled into gloomy browns, frosted with brilliant white.

In the daytime, the woodland was bright with an ethereal glow, an icy utopia that tempted adventure from even the shyest of village-goers, but at night when everyone went to sleep, rumor had it that the forest remained awake.

Hearsay of a wolf that resided in its trees traveled around your village quickly, but talk was only fueled by the accounts of lumberjacks and hunters. After many insisted that the creature had two heads, likening the features of Cerberus, they named it Sukuna, which translated into “two-faced spirit”. Gossip eventually quieted into silence after everyone who claimed the beast roamed the outskirts of town admitted that they had never actually seen it, but fear plagued your townspeople once again when wandering travelers started disappearing mysteriously one after the other.

In alarm, a curfew was imposed, requiring that everyone be in their houses from dusk to dawn to prevent the loss of any more lives. You abided by the town’s regulations most of the time, but this evening had been different. Your father had asked you earlier in the day’s morning to complete your usual rounds to grandmother’s house while he was at work, gifting her with your usual provisions: bread, fruits, and a small wheel of cheese.

You figured you’d have enough time, since your father routinely visited the bar to drink away his stress and sorrows after work. You promised to leave before the sky deepened into the orange of sunset, but before you knew it, twilight was fast approaching, and you knew your father would be home before long, inebriated and angry. He had never laid hands on you when he was drunk, but his blistering rage was enough to steer you clear of his temper.

So you fortified yourself against the callous cold and cloaked yourself tightly in the warmth of your red velvet hood, before setting out, making a quick pit stop at the bakery that lined the village’s fringe.

“Hi Mr. Yaga.” You’d greeted the shop’s owner warmly and with familiarity, closing the wooden door behind you with a vibrant chime of the bell that hung overhead.

After your mother had passed when you were only four from typhoid fever, your father had spiraled into a persistent cyclic episode of guilt and desolation. He quickly learned that alcohol was a temporary remedy for his woes, so he drowned them every night until he would collapse in an intoxicated heap the minute he made it past your cabin’s door.

Mr. Yaga knew your mother before her illness took her, recognizing her as one of his most treasured and loyal customers. He remembered you from the errands you would run alongside her, and unofficially took you under his care after she was gone. During off-hours at the bakery, he would help you with your homework to the best of his abilities, and once you grew old enough to work, he supplied you with a part-time job at his shop, so you could sustain yourself for the time being. He was more of a father to you than your actual father had been.

You were met with his stern guise as he looked up from the dough he’d been kneading behind the counter. He quickly rolled the thick mixture into a perfect ball, placing it on the steel rack behind him, likely for overnight proofing.

“Where are you going this late, Red?” he asked finally, returning your welcome with the nickname he had given you. He tugged on the small yellow towel that had been folded and rested atop his shoulder to wipe the flour from his toughened hands.“You know you shouldn't be wandering so far from home at an hour like this.”

You ambled up to the counter, pushing your hood back until it slid off the crown of your head and fell between your shoulder blades. “I’ll be alright. I’m just taking a stroll.”

“Sure you’ll be able to find your way back?” Mr. Yaga asked skeptically, not buying your dismissal, but you only nodded and dug into the bottom of your straw-woven basket.

“I’m positive. How much for a loaf of bread again?”

“If you’re taking it to your grandmother, it’s free.” He reached into the glass display case to his left, his fingers gingerly retrieving a golden sphere of sourdough bread before he packaged the rustic grain in a small white burlap bag.

“I really shouldn’t be taking handouts from you Mr. Yaga. You’re trying to make a living just like the rest of us.” You furrowed your eyebrows together in disagreement, shaking your head while you counted the few creased bills of currency you’d amassed in order to properly pay him for his services, then you held them out over the bakery’s counter. “Here.”

“Put that away,” he insisted, his tone slightly disgruntled. “You’ll never have to pay a dime in this shop. Just promise you’ll come back home in one piece.”

You hesitated for a brief moment, contemplating how well things would go over if you’d just forced the money into his hand instead, but you yielded to his pressure regardless. You accepted the charity, reminding yourself that you were still heavily indebted to the man that had practically fostered you. “Thank you. I promise I’ll be back before nightfall.”

Your guarantee had appeared easier said than done, effortless as it fell from your lips, and you shrugged off Mr. Yaga’s urgent warning not to veer from the path that meandered from one side of the forest to the other, but only minutes into your journey you’d begun to regret your evening trek.

It wasn’t the dread of being alone in the woods that fed your upset, but the feeling of your leaden legs as they attempted to carry both you and the extra mass of the basket you balanced on your wrist. The journey was made even worse through the stark wind of the night, coupled with inches of snow that slowed your speed, so you made the impulse decision to deviate from the original trail that was paved between the limits of the trees.

You quieted the warning of your conscience that pleaded you to turn back, fearing that you too would become a name in the tragic stories that spread from mouth to mouth in your village. Instead, your numb limbs bolstered your weight as far as resilience could take you until you succumbed to exhaustion and caved in against the sturdy trunk of a redwood. The snow was bitter as it bit at the skin of your knees through the thick lining of your pants, but it hardly compared to the sensation of fatigue.

The rhapsody of owls hooting from the treetops above subdued your slight agitation, providing you with company and reminding you that you weren’t entirely alone, while the lucid moon hung against the sable sky like a lantern, cutting through the hour’s dark.

You placed your basket beside you and rested your back against the rough bark to catch your breath. Each exhale prompted a ribbon of white to curl from your lips into the air, and you pulled your cloak tighter around your quivering frame for insulation. You only planned to rest for a minute or two, just enough to replenish the energy you’d lost, but your leisure was cut short once you focused no more than ten steps ahead, where spots of crimson red dyed the snow.

You rose to your feet slowly, surveying the area around you to make sure you weren’t being watched, then you wrapped nervous fingers around the handle of your basket, drawing it close to you. You inched cautiously towards the direction of the color, just to confirm whether or not it was what you suspected it to be, and once you moved in closer you noticed that it hadn’t been just one speck but a trail that disappeared into the darkness.

You retreated inside of yourself, pivoting quickly on your heel and heading in the other direction away from the potential danger.

“Keep walking, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself, but you could barely hear your own voice over the loud rapping of your heart within the cage of your chest. “It’s none of your business.”

You wish your concern would’ve left you alone with that reasoning, but your mind began to consider what the scarlet trail could have possibly led to. You managed to fight off your curiosity before you stopped in distress, wondering if it could have been an injured traveler, one that might have encountered the fabled beast and escaped barely alive.

“Fuck.” You tried to ignore your guilt, but to no avail. If it had been you, you would have wished that someone’s interest would lead to your rescue. “Fuck.”

You spun around, heading back in the direction you came. You swallowed your trepidation as you stalked the trace of blood, watchfully, until the carmine blemishes led you to an old wooden house that stood ominously among the trees.

It’s roof looked like it was a vibrant mahogany, once upon a time, but now it was a dusty brown that sagged into the house’s exterior. The windows were boarded up with two wooden planks on each sill, and the front steps leading up to the front door, hanging off of its hinges, were unvarnished and slippery with the recent snowfall. It looked like it had been deserted, like no one had even stepped foot on the property in years, which was a bad sign, but you still took a step further.

“Hello?” you called out, waiting for a response. No one called back, so you waited a few fleeting seconds before exhaling in relief. Somehow the silence that was returned calmed your worry.

You strolled up to the porch, grabbing the splintered rail gingerly and walking up until you stopped in front of the cabin’s entrance. It looked as though it had been left open by the shack’s previous visitors, but there was no indication that it had been done so with brute force.

“Hello?” You announced again, before gently pushing on the door.

It swung open, revealing the dusty shelter of the house’s interior. Aged furniture glowed slightly in the meager white moonlight that spilled through the sealed windows, and old paint peeled from the soft wood of the walls. The floorboards creaked, groaning with the heaviness of your boots, and you noticed that the same red marks that flawed the snow outside had decorated the house inside. The only difference was that the spots had spilled into generous puddles, fresh and metallic, as you choked on the smell, pinching the bridge of your nose to keep from gagging.

Was someone there?

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to trespass—” you mustered, disappearing further inside. “I thought someone might be hurt. Is anyone home?”

You observed the ground as the bloody trail evanesced underneath another door, begging you to feed into your dread of the unknown.

“Please don’t be dead. Please, please don’t be dead,” you begged. Your nervous hand curved itself about the cold metal of the handle, and you allotted your weight onto it, hoping that come to the trail’s end, the wounded victim would still be alive.

The door swayed open on it’s raspy hinges, but much to your fright nothing or nobody rested on the other side, and the trace of red ceased in the middle of the room, as if it had evaporated into thin air.

“Either you’re lost or you’re incredibly naive,” a resonant voice declared from behind you, and it didn’t require you turning around to discern that there was nothing hospitable about its tone.

You swiveled around prudently, terror seizing your breath as you met two vermillion irises that scrutinized you under an amused gaze. Black patterns adorned his skin from the expanse of his forehead, over his brawny arms, chest, and torso, where they receded under the bottom half of what looked like a robe. It only took you one quick inspection to realize that his body was free from any lesions, which rang peril in your mind.

“I—I think I’m lost. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in.” You tried to smile apologetically, but you could only manage a half-hearted expression as panic conquered you. “I was just on my way.”

You pressed your back flush against the wall of the cabin, steadily attempting to edge towards the door until you had enough clearance where you could make a run for it, but your trifling movement didn’t go undetected by the vigilant gaze of the stranger in front of you.

His arm was quick as he extended it, striking the wall beside you with strength so potent he fractured its planks, and you released a shrill cry, inadvertently grabbing your head with both hands and ducking with scare.

“Entering unannounced and now leaving in a hurry? Someone oughta teach you some manners, hm?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” You expressed your regret as best as you could, trying to trounce the profuse trembling that had begun to pilot your body and the tears that glossed your terrified eyes. Your mind didn’t spare any more time before it started assembling all the details, and you realized that you’d stumbled right into the beast’s den. He was nothing like the narratives you’d heard, but you couldn’t even guarantee that you would live long enough to tell your own version of your run-in.

You held out your basket with two unsteady hands, but kept your head dipped, afraid to make contact with him. “H-Here. Take this.”

“And what am I supposed to do with this?” Sukuna asked, his voice riddled with offense.

“Whatever you want. There’s bread and fruits if you’re hungry. Are you hungry?”

He plucked it from your fragile fingers, examining its contents before casting it over his shoulder where it fell to the floor with an audible thud. That had been a month of your personal savings, soiled before your eyes.

“How nice of you to ask,” Sukuna chuckled, but you’d never heard those words spoken with such ingenuine intentions. “But I’m in the mood for something else.”

With haste and without much proper thought, you tried breaking into a run for the door, but the hand Sukuna wrapped around your neck sent you flailing, grabbing his wrist with such pointless effort that you’d exhausted yourself before he had even thought about relenting.

“Move and I’ll kill you so fast you won’t even realize until you’re dead.”

Your body went limp in his grasp as you did your best to pull what little air you could into your lungs before losing consciousness.

“Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” you choked out pathetically. “If you let me go I won’t tell anyone about you, I promise. I’ll forget I ever saw you.”

His hand tightened around your throat, resulting in an ocean of tears that spilled from your eyes. You knew that crying would do nothing to evoke compassion from the savage who only delighted in the way your weak fingers pried at his unforgiving grip, so you cried for yourself instead. You cried for the few moments you reckoned you had left until your tale would turn into one of warning for anyone else who dared to make the same journey as you.

“Wow, you really are stupid aren’t you?” he asked wryly to no one in particular, not that you could have answered anyway. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to make deals with the devil? Humans are so irritating, always thinking they’re in a position to make demands.”

Sukuna’s nails felt like serrated blades as they dug into your hot skin. “How about you behave, and I’ll see how generous I’m feeling after all of this?”

“Please. Please, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” Your tears glossed the supple skin of your cheeks like silvery gems while you mourned the death of what little fight you had left.

“Those pretty tears for me?” A wicked smile etched across Sukuna’s face as he leaned into you, so close you could see the godless look that reflected in his ruby eyes. It was obvious he held no remorse for what he was about to do.

“What’s under this?” He pinched the velvet cloth of your cloak, peeling the fabric away from your body just enough to peer at the clothes concealed underneath. “Take it off.”

His grip loosened only slightly, providing you with the least bit of flexibility required to do what he demanded, and you complied. It hadn’t been your preference to do so, but you didn’t have any other avenues.

Your fluttering fingers pulled at the strings that secured your hood until the tightly wound bow loosened, and you shrugged the red covering off and it pooled around your feet like blood. Sukuna’s laugh was sinister once he took in the shape of your body and the way your thick fleece-knit sweater clung to your frame. His lecherous touch found the curve of your chest first, palming your breasts with bestial desire and feeling their weight in his hand.

“Your corpse would be an excellent addition to my collection,” he praised. His fingers traveled down to the hem of your garment, riding the fabric up until the material gathered against your chest, and your torso was bare and on full display. “But it’s almost sad how you’ll be of no use to me after I defile you.”

You swallowed hard, gasping out your desperate pleas. “Please don’t.”

Sukuna hooked a finger around the strap of your bra, digging the pointed tip of his nail into the elastic until it frayed and tore, exposing your breast to his carnal stare. He pressed his palm against the soft flesh, holding and handling you with force while relishing at how you continued entreating him to let you go.

“That’s it. Come on, beg me harder,” Sukuna urged beside your ear, his hot breath drawing an unintended whimper from your lips. He grabbed the sensitive peak of your nipple, squeezing the soft bud between two fingers and taking pleasure in the way it hardened against his rough fingertips.

“Somebody help me! Please!” Your last resort had been to call for help even though you knew it was futile. The harsh winter winds had probably carried your screams elsewhere, far away from the nearest ear. Your measure hadn’t done anything to get you in Sukuna’s good graces either.

His displeasure was visible in the way his nostrils flared, and his claws dug into the hollow of your throat so deep you thought he had broken skin and drawn blood.

“How annoying. You’re so noisy,” he mumbled, eyeing you with revulsion. “You wanna scream? Maybe we should see how loud you are with my fingers inside of you.”

“No, I’ll be quiet. I’ll be quiet.” Sukuna’s threat quickly censored you, and you shook your head hurriedly, eager to make it clear that was the farthest thing from your wishes. You could almost feel the pain of his warning creeping up the inside of your sweaty thighs because you knew the action wasn’t meant to be seductive. It was meant to be punishment.

Sukuna feigned a sympathetic smile, but it barely masked his evil. “Yes, you will. Good girl.”

He forcibly slipped two fingers past your slightly parted lips, all the way past your teeth to the back of your throat where the action cued you to gag, and another stream of tears surged down your cheeks.

“What was that? Did you say something?” Sukuna taunted, receiving an earful of your muffled protests in response. “Didn’t think so.”

A taunting snicker followed his ridicule, and he withdrew his digits before dipping his hand down to the buttons of your pants. He wasted no time unfastening the gold clasp, and instead he forced you up against the wall with the sheer size of his build. He tugged your pants down with impatient vigor until the denim rested around the bend of your knees, then he did the same with the thin panties that obscured your cunt from his view. You hammered at his chest with your fists, administering all your energy into creating distance between the two of you, but your efforts were fruitless. Sukuna far overpowered you in power alone.

He ignored your resistance, pushing the curtain of his robe aside and unveiling the length of his cock. He was already hard with need, his otherworldly lust evident in the way his skin was pulled tight over the skin of his shaft, and how he twitched with desire, each time prompting a bead of pre-cum from his bulbous tip.

Once the slick heat of your cunt came in contact with Sukuna’s swollen head, he hissed, throwing his head back while indulging in the silken sensation of your pussy. He prodded the sensitive bud of your clit to encourage a stream of whimpers from your mouth before perforating your tight without warning.

Your cry died on your lips once he started moving, thrusting up into you while your walls involuntarily tightened around his length. He receded his hips, then slammed back into you, over and over again until he established a sickeningly slow cadence that had you gripping the skin of his arms in a miscellany of nauseating emotions.

“Please stop…” you whined, your voice lacking intensity.

“Stop?” Sukuna echoed. “But you’re taking me so well. Are you sure you don’t want this?”

He filled you to the hilt once again, amused by the way your body jerked against his whenever he did so. Your muscles were still tense, a sign that you still retained some opposition against him, and your last ounce of defiance surfaced once Sukuna compelled you to look at him with an iron-willed hand around your jaw. He forced your mouth to his, smothering any crude words you had for him.

You could feel the tapered point of his fangs against your tongue after he’d forced your teeth apart with his own, but before he could taste the warmth your mouth had to offer, you bit down on his tongue, hard enough that he tore his face away from yours.

“Fuck!” Sukuna bellowed, red painting the flesh of his lips and trickling down the curve of his chin. “You stubborn bitch, is this the thank you I get for making you feel good?”

Your plan digressed from the conclusion you’d expected, and instead of Sukuna prioritizing the pain that inundated his mouth, he gripped you tighter, like his intention now had been to kill.

“Have it your way then,” he laughed, the sound inconsistent from the malevolence in his eyes. “Keep struggling. Entertain me.”

His thrusts picked up speed until he was driving his cock into you with belligerence, each ministration an uneven mix of forced pleasure and pain until you grew lightheaded at the sensation.

“That’s it. Just spread your legs and watch how I taint you. Humans look best like this—crying, begging for mercy. This is how you should be.”

You closed your eyes, finding comfort in the solitude of your eyelids, and you pressed your lips into a thin line to stifle your sobs. You’d always imagined what your first time would have been like, and you’d always hoped it would have been with someone you loved long in the future after you were secure in matrimony. Sex was a privilege for married men and women in your village, one that you’d now never be able to wonder if Sukuna decided to spare your life.

You tried to sift through your negative emotions, convincing yourself to enjoy the feeling of him between your legs, maybe then it would have been over sooner, but you couldn’t do it. Not in the situation you were in, and not with him. The pleasure couldn’t exist without discomfort and fear.

“Say my name,” Sukuna commanded, looking to claim the very words that fell from your lips, just like he’d done with the rest of your body. You could almost feel his pulse in the heat of his hand and with each drive of his hips, bloodlust and desire pumping through his veins.

“S-Sukuna,” you whimpered. You tried to relax, focusing on the electric heat at the apex of your thighs while he ravaged you, and as you did so you heard him release a taut, pleased sigh.

��Chant it until it burns in your brain—until you remember who owns you.”

“S-Sukuna. Please.” Your face was drawn tight, eyebrows knit in the center of your forehead as heat swelled through you. Scant breaths escaped your lips, and you felt Sukuna’s muscles constrict underneath the surface of his skin. “F-Fuck.”

“Soon, I’ll fill your womb with my seed. Then you’ll never be able to forget who you fucking belong to.” His unearthly libido fueled his tempo, and he didn’t bother to lessen his pace even as he was stumbling upon his orgasm. He placed a hand over your lower stomach, eyes glinting with rotten anticipation. “You’ll wish I killed you instead.”

“I’m begging you, please don’t.” You writhed in his hold, but your movements were weak and half-hearted. Your eyes silently reiterated your plea through a glaze of tears, but it was clear that Sukuna held no consideration for any being’s interest past his own.

You weren’t prepared for the quick twitch that came with the warm feeling of his release, and before you knew it you were extinguishing a feeble moan as Sukuna unloaded himself into you, shameless amounts of cum flooding the orifice between your legs.

“Bear all of me.” His order came immediately and firm, his labored grunts vibrating against the sweaty surface of your skin as he pressed himself into you.

The creamy, white liquid leaked from your cunt, dribbling around the girth of Sukuna’s cock before painting the inside of your thighs in his sticky essence. The feeling was intense and sudden, sickening ecstasy clouding your head as you cried out, sharing Sukuna’s loud groans of pleasure, and even when the sensation of rapture subsided you still felt fire at your body’s aperture.

You felt him draw out of you, slowly, and once it was clear that you were spent, unable to provide any more use to him, Sukuna released you from his grip with such carelessness that your trembling legs buckled underneath you. You scrambled to grab your cloak, surprised at your own mobility after the ordeal that had just taken place. Perhaps it was for your own sanity if you’d pretended nothing had happened at all, but once you rose back onto your feet, Sukuna remained staring down at you with casual indifference, like he had already dismissed the acknowledgement that lingered.

He rested his chin against the back of his hand, unmistakably gratified by your deluge of tears and the way you cowered away from him and towards the door, back into the, now comforting, cold night.

“Now run,” he said tepidly. “Go and spread your fear.”

#tw: noncon #tw: corruption #tw: blood #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryomen smut

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chika-seno · 3 years ago

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parallels between diluc and ayato

diluc and ayato are both two of my favorite genshin hubbies among the small line of male characters (aside from thoma but malewife goes brrrr) but anyway - based from my research and personal analysis since i love taking apart my favorite characters’ psyche - im honestly surprised no one has realized how ayato and diluc are eerily similar aside from the whole affluent and wealthy men who are hiding something brewing beneath the surface of mora and political conflict - with obvious and interesting differences of course but lets get started on this tangent.

what i think most defines the two characters are - 1.) their traumatizing backstories, 2.) their positions in society, 3.) how they cope with it and most especially 4.) their visions.

WARNINGS: diluc + kaeya + ayato + ayaka’s backstories, diluc and ayato’s story quest, mentions of murder, government corruption in the world of tevyat

1.) they are both very self-sacrificing figures, similarly trading their adolescence for the supposed greater good of the nations’ citizens as well as their family. ayato became the head of the kamisato clan at a young age (presumably 20 or younger) - all while spear-heading the problems that plagued his line such as the fatui, the political unrest occurring in the family dynasty, as well as the harsh criticisms that oversaw these decisions. diluc similarly became the living legacy of the ragnivindr’s ever since his father’s passing and continued to run his business.

2.) despite that, they’re also very vicious protectors of their respective nations and they go about their duties close enough but still have some differences in how they uphold their ideals. for one, diluc is entirely operating on his own. it’s confirmed his staff are in it with the whole dark knight hero scheme as well as supposedly his entire rampage hunting down the abyss and the fatui - but they’re not exactly active key players unlike the shuumatsuban under ayato - which is a whole unit dedicated to the inevitable dark parts of having such a prestigious clan. they’re also not necessarily blood-thirsty individuals like childe but they’re definitely not afraid to murk some people if need be. we all know diluc definitely has managed to kill people - if not the abyss then definitely some low level fatui members - and for ayato he’s definitely used the shuumatsuban to eliminate any political rivals or even any hostile figures that threaten him, his position, inazuma, or even his loved ones i.e ayaka and thoma.

3.) though, that being said, i do definitely think that diluc is a lot more noble and gentle in ayato. i’d like to think that his knightly honor is still there in spite of the knights of favonius’ corruption and incompetence. you can evidently see how they act once your friendship level climbs up - while diluc (similar to his vision) warms up to you but first starts out hositle and rigid - ayato is still pretty professional, just keeping you at an arm’s length but trusting you to a lot more than in the beginning.

4.) i think their differences are mainly outlined through their visions as well as the importance of their younger siblings in their handling of their trauma and past. because of the destructive nature of his pyro vision, its clear that diluc works alone. he mentions a lot about the darkness and the corruption of this world, and i hypothesize he thinks of himself the same way. he has a low-self esteem and while he does not necessarily equate himself towards enoch and the knights of favonius’ - his failures and fears as a person keep him from closely interacting with anything or everyone else - just like fire - if you’re not careful handling it - in large doses it burns whatever it comes into contact with into ashes.

this is especially highlighted in his confrontation with kaeya at the revelation of his “betrayal” - in which worst comes to shove he just explodes. thats also one of the things that seperates him from ayato - in which he’s a lot more impulsive and wrathful when angry.

ayato on the other hand, is like the sweeping waves of a beach. it’s calm, its collected, yet its also very unassuming until you see a tsunami about to crash into you. water is a very interconnected element - its almost everywhere and thats exactly how he functions as a guy - he knows what its like being on the verge of having nothing and he wants to make up for it by having the most connections and people at his arsenal. they don’t have to be the most adequate or the same (i.e see sayu as a ninja LMAOO) but they have to serve him a purpose. just look at his story quest, he’s not exactly buddy-buddy with the traveler unlike another hydro husbando, but he knows keeping the twin as an ally is very important since he knows they have a lot of influence and power in the world of tevyat.

from the waves metaphor from before, i think he’s a lot more open-minded and in a morally grey area than diluc - and his vision also helps in explaining that. while pyro or fire in general is a destructive nature, water doesn’t necessarily have that bad image associated with it. its a flexible element, it literally gives you life via consuming it or rain, but too much of it spells disaster. see the vastness of the ocean, waves that threaten to drown you in it, etc. and thats how ayato functions.

theres no denying that diluc is somewhat of an anti-hero or even a villain when properly examined, but the way i see it - ayato embraces that notion even further. this is also because of their positions in their world, diluc is a business man as well as a nobleman (which a lot of people forget honestly) but ayato is a government figure, the former is supposed to uphold some level of integrity and honor and the latter is supposed to do what is most beneficial to sustain himself and his clan.

case in point, diluc tries to do what is right and fails because he knows governing bodies can fail, while ayato is the governing body who is not afraid to do what he wants to protect those he loves.

in my opinion, diluc laments on not being the traditional figure of a knight, while ayato never aspired to achieve that honorable image.

5.) interestingly enough, they obviously both protect ayaka and kaeya in their own ways. diluc could have had outted kaeya as an “agent” of khaenri’ah but he didn’t - but he’s still cold and hostile towards him. while ayato obviously loves and cares for ayaka yet wants to keep her in the dark of his schemes. both definitely destructive ways of caring for them, but its evident that they do love their sibling in their own way.

#genshin impact #genshin impact meta #kamisato ayato #diluc ragnivndr #genshin impact ayato #genshin impact diluc #broke: fangirling over your favs woke: analyzing them #lmaoo comment down ur comments if u have anyyy

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free-pool-trash · 4 years ago

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happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision x reader #wandavision spoilers #x men x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #mcu #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader

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carry-on-my-wayward-butt · 4 years ago

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I just found out I'm 5 weeks after a few cycles of trying. I knew it would be rough but ur kind of scaring me now lol. I always hear mothers saying stuff like "Pregnancy was the best!" or "I miss being pregnant!" and people do it over and over again, so there must be something to love about it. Right?

Of course! there’s plenty to love about it:

many people lament the changes their body goes through during pregnancy, especially the bump growing. personally? i fucking love it. literally i’ve never loved the way my body looks more than right now, and i used to be fit as fuck. i was sleek and curvy and all sorts of hot, i look EXACTLY the opposite now and yet i LOVE it.

the dips of my stretch marks, my huge slowly rounding belly, my jiggle thighs, my muffin top hips spilling over my pants, my skin is SO fucking soft, i seriously cant keep my hands off myself. if my tits werent plagued by lymphedema i’d probably love them too, but in a sleep bra they look sooooo good in my new maternity shirts. ESPECIALLY ruffle blouses. i genuinely adore the way i look heavily pregnant, and i will absolutely miss it terribly.

i mentioned before that i hate the rolls and swishes (especially the stretches) but i LOVE kicks. seeing my belly move around is surreal and kind of freaky, but in an amazing way. kicks are so... assertive. “i’m here! i’m alright! i’m growing patiently! i’m exercising!” it’s so soothing to know they’re doing well in there, in a place i can’t reach them. i’ll poke them back and they’ll react! it’s so sweet. getting kicked in the butthole isnt so sweet, but i do think its funny tbh.

learning their routine in there is so nice in a weird way. i know what foods they react strongly to(baby loves spicy), and how they react to light. they like to settle on one side of my belly button or the other, and i can feel their head (or ass?) just hanging out there. resting. i can caress my baby through my skin. it’s gross but its so lovely.

i get to park in the expectant parking spots heehee >:3c (i already have a blue badge, but when the blue spots are full, there’s still a close space for me most of the time) i always do an evil little laugh when i pull in like im doing crimes.

my hair still falls out, but not nearly as much as it did pre-pregnancy. it gets greasy a lot slower too.

i still get pimples, but not nearly as many as i did pre-pregnancy. (T1 doesnt count. T1 was like Puberty 2. hopefully yours isnt as blegh)

i’m compelled beyond understanding to drink TONS of water. I have never drank this much daily water in my LIFE. i am extremely hydrated and feel healthy.

i’m compelled beyond understanding to get into the sunlight. i stand outside for a few moments on sunny days and feel like im photosynthesizing. i never did this before now.

im generally more optimistic rather than doomscrolling my own brain for hours a day.

i feel more responsible, i feel like the decisions i make have a future in mind rather than impulsivity. i feel purposeful. my mental health has improved drastically.

i eat so much more fruit than i used to

my sleep is plagued by nightmares sure but i sleep SO fast now. it used to take me hours to fall asleep. now it’s mere minutes. is this how the other side lives???

people are way more willing to help me, and other parents readily and eagerly answer a complete strangers random questions like “was that expensive? is it easy to use? does it fit in your car well?” that from any other person would feel upsetting and invasive. i was looking at nipple balm confusedly in target a few months ago and a total stranger called out to me and asked if i needed help, then pointed out which are vegan, which have this or that ingredient, which allergens to be aware of, which have a strong smell, which were oily or lotion-y, and when i picked one (earth mama butter) just said “great choice, you’re gonna smell so good. good luck babe!” and left with her cute toddler who was happily chanting “nip-ple, nip-ple, nip-ple,”. ideal interaction. i still think about that woman. she smelled like cheerios and strawberries.

there’s plenty to love and enjoy, just like theres plenty to hate and be miserable about.

and when it comes to people who say “pregnancy was the best! i miss it!” i personally have a feeling that if it’s not because of stigma of looking “unappreciative” of pregnancy, it is because keeping an infant alive is fucking miserable, and parenting blows chunks. i’m sure that comparatively, being extremely uncomfortable and in pain for the better part of a year might actually have been the best part for them, even if they had the roughest parts.

i’ll definitely miss the way i currently feel about my body. i’ll miss the QUIET for sure, and the idleness. and ill miss sleeping so soundly, even if there’s nightmares. i’ll miss getting to shirk chores because my body hurts, and i’ll miss having 100% of my husband’s attention, but he’ll miss having 100% of mine too so at least its fair.

but........ i won’t be doing this again :^) at least unless i have free healthcare, because my GOD the bills are OUTRAGEOUS. fuck that shit.

congrats on your success, anon. it’s a rollercoaster.

#i want a second one but i'm thinking we'll adopt #long post #again soz #pregnancy #for ts #me babby #op #ask #Anonymous

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caustixsoul · 3 years ago

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#OK ok its been so long i feel the need to make a post

I am on hiatus I guess! This isn’t some decision I’ve made, I’m just saying this so people don’t worry/wonder why the hell I’ve fallen off the face of the planet. If you want more info its under the cut.

ok i know that sounded super dramatic but its nothing like that lol! I just wanna play games right now. My friends invited me to a new Minecraft server so that’s fun-- but also it’s the Anniversary event in Overwatch which I am going to be grinding my ASS off in because there are a lot of skins I want. (hmu my battletag is ViennaTodd#1671 iirc) but also!! Mass Effect Legendary Edition came out this week (yes i bought it. yes i said i wasnt going to. yes i have impulse control issues) and so I need to play through it also im streaming it for a friend! thats eating time too.

.... and I’ve had DBD brainrot for the past few weeks. ... and ive been rewatching the entire BNHA anime (I’m watching the dub this time.. very strange experience) and its consuming all my thoughts like the plague so theres that too

(Not to mention increased social expectations since I’m now modding a pretty... hefty public discord for a youtuber that I like and that has a lot of social strain ksksks dont worry about that-)

I haven’t mentioned hades but thats because the hard drive that has my hades save file on it got corrupted so i cant play the game rn! And i will not start over i was almost at 100% completion with over 100 hrs in the game i am not strong enough to do it all over again-- and honestly it stresses me out to think about it so i prefer not to!

THAT SAID I WILL NOT LET THIS KILL MY MUSE. I like this rpc, my blog, and my muse’s lore way too fucking much to let it die. I will be back and I will rise vainglorious and victorious damnit!

as proof of how much I like you all I’m gonna do something I’ve never done before. if you’ve read this far and you don’t have it already pls add me on discord!

Come talk to me about any of the above subjects pls my adhd is on 10 and i can’t function

#ooc tbd #always singing in the back of your mind ;; mun speaks #PSA!

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funkymbtifiction · 4 years ago

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hey, so i've had this question for a long time and i was hopping you could help me with it. I would like to know how to determinate my wing, cause i use the 6 wing more but only on an unhealthy manner yk? when im functioning normally i work more like a 7w8 but when im under extreme pressure or stress I'm a true 7w6.

You would need to study each as an individual type and then determine which one’s coping mechanisms, inner anxieties, and behaviors is more common in good times and in bad. Both 6s and 8s are aware of power dynamics and fear others controlling them. Both can be abrasive and confrontational, especially if the 6 is counter-phobic (runs toward instead of away from what scares them). But the 7w6 is a double head type, which means MASSIVE OVERTHINKING. They will intellectualize everything and spin their mental wheels. Safety, security, their own survival, and sometimes even self doubt will plague them -- think of Jack Sparrow and his playful 7 core, but his apprehensive 6 wing. He does not take risks, he is quite careful, he can be submissive when it’s smarter for him to be submissive, and he’s concerned with maintaining an element of peace in his relationships. His 6 is conflict-adverse. Overall, he has a lighthearted ‘tone.’

The 7w8 has one head type and one gut type, which means over-thinking gets replaced with direct affirmative action and an aggressive stance of taking what the 8 wing wants. They are less idealistic and more hedonistic, less appeasing and more direct, less self-doubting and more prone to black and white thinking (with me or against me; join me or get out of my way). Less inclined to think-think and more inclined to think-act decisively. There is less fear, unless it relates to the 7 fear of not having enough, of being deprived, or missing out on fun. This is Aramis in The Musketeers. Outgoing, social, but direct in taking what he wants, easily falling in and out of bed with attractive people (the 8 “lust”), showing dominance, and no guilt for his impulses.

7w6s are more easygoing and less intimidating than 7w8s, but also don’t get themselves into quite as much trouble.

#7w8 #7w6 #enneagram #enneagram 7

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readwithkay · 4 years ago

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April Reads [ 2 Books ]

i really was expected to do 3 tests for EACH subject i do & i do 11 subjects :( 0 reading time & by tbr pile is always evolving. at least my local bookstores are opening again! FYI there is a ‘keep reading’ border bc the first book i ready in april has a few trigger warnings :) please skim over that “review” if you are uncomfy

When the Stars Lead to You by Ronni Davis (TW: mention of mental illness, death of a loved one, depression, attempted suicide) (i swear in this review)

(★★)

18-old Devon longs for two things. The stars. & the boy she fell in love with last summer. When Ashton breaks Devon’s heart at the end of the most romantic & magical summer ever, she thinks her heart will never heal again. But over the course of the following year, Devon finds herself slowly putting the broken pieces back together. Now it’s senior year, and she’s determined to enjoy every moment of it as she prepares for a future studying the galaxies. That is, until Ashton shows up on the first day of school. Can she forgive him and open her heart again? Or are they doomed to repeat history

From debut author, Ronni Davis, comes a stunning novel about passion, loss, and the power of first love.

can i just say that ive had so little books rated over 3 stars in the past couple months :(

i really wanted to enjoy this book bc the synopsis sounded good, the title is creative/intruging and i really wanted to get something about the 3 stars i was giving like every book since february

unfortunately, it disappointed me gravely

kinda insta love & this girl wasn’t over this guy she dated for 2-3 months over A YEAR AGO like ????

was expecting to be BLOWN OUT OF THIS WORLD (i think im funny-) but just felt like id been dug an early grave with how boring it was

like we get it you have daddy issues :(

the mental illness rep didn’t strike me as realistic, but i found it commendable that the non-mentally-ill MC went out of her way to do her own research

i liked the POC rep

all of these descriptions of the deep love that devon feels for ashton but it was laid on so thickly that it felt more like being told than shown. at a certain point, the romance scenes became ew—the sheer amount of passages where they were just making out or talking about how they wanted to be together forever (paired with ashton’s extreme wealth) gave me unpleasant fan fiction/wattpad vibes

like 2015/2017 wattpad

not good overall

ALSO THIS BITCH WAS FULLY PREPARED TO DITCH UNI FOR THIS BOY?????????????? my emotionally unavailable self could NEVER

The 57 Bus by Dashka Slater

(★★★★)

If it weren't for the 57 bus, Sasha & Richard never would have met. Both were high school students from Oakland, California, one of the most diverse cities in the country, but they inhabited different worlds. Sasha, a white teen, lived in the middle-class foothills & attended a small private school. Richard, a black teen, lived in the crime-plagued flatlands & attended a large public one. Each day, their paths overlapped for a mere 8 minutes. But 1 afternoon on the bus ride home from school, a single reckless act left Sasha severely burned & Richard charged with two hate crimes & facing life imprisonment. The case garnered international attention, thrusting both teenagers into the spotlight.

i did shed a few tears

fINALLY something above 3 stars !!!!

Based on the real life story of a white Oakland agender teen attacked by another teen while riding the bus, the book is both insightful & balanced.

Sasha (the victim) & Richard’s (the attacker) backstories are fully explored. Oakland itself & Richard’s backstory are paid careful consideration. & after learning about both a clearer picture emerges. 1 where Oakland, 1 of the most diverse & deeply divided cities in the country, & the criminal justice system play a role in shaping events.

dashka slater could have EASILy formed a narrative casting richard as our villain. they didn’t. instead, richard is a goofy, often quiet but smart TEEN who was raised in poverty & who desperatey tries to avoid conflict/getting into trouble. he is NOT a supervillian. he is NOT inherently bad or evil.

BUT the book doesn’t condone/excuse his actions; we’re just provided with the context: a favour not always granted by the media. in this story, the media manipulated both richard & his mother’s words by giving them a differing narrative and ripping away their substance.

this book is also a compelling indictment of the criminal justice systerm, where richard (WHO IS SIXTEEN YEARS OLD) is tried as an ADULT. & in being tried as an ADULT (WHICH HE IS NOT) he loses the protection granted to juveniles: he loses anonymity and a reasonable punishment/sentence. MEANING ADULT PRISON.

like what the actual hell???? THIS HAPPENS IN REAL LIFE PEOPLE. as a teenager, richard is still developing. he physically & mentally has less impulse control than adults who would be imprisoned; YET HE IS TREATED THE SAME AS THEM?

made me very angry but very interested

still, the story does not excuse his actions; it critiques & explores the systems that foster these types of attacks & the legal responses.

IN FACT, sasha (THE VICTIM) & their family PUBLICLY disagreed with the court’s decision to try richard as an adult.

sasha is also provided equal narrative. from the get-go the book educates its audience on nonbinary gender identities & sasha’s journey of discovering their pronouns/gender identity.

not a 5 star bc i wasnt always that keen on the writing style :( still a brilliant book, especially if you want educated on what it’s like to be nb/the justice system

#april reads #april #reads #reading challenge #2021 reading challenge #tbr #books i read in april

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 6 years ago

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Unknown - Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader

Summary: After Shiratorizawa’s loss to Karasuno, Ushijima finds himself outside your window plagued by a unfamiliar feeling.

Words: ~1500

A/N: soooo im just slightly in love with Ushijima. here’s some fluff for the exhibition of my blog!

Every time he closed his eyes, images from the game floated through his head without permission. Even when Ushijima tried to think of something else; the images shoved their way to the forefront of his mind, demanding he acknowledge them before he got any rest. The sound of the ball hitting the floor on the wrong side of the court with a final resounding thud kept him tossing and turning, causing an overwhelmingly unfamiliar feeling to well up in his stomach. His eyes flew open at the memory of your expression on the bench—one he couldn’t bear to think he had caused.

He stared at his hand for a moment; the sting of the ball still fresh against his palm. It used to be a feeling he valued, even cherished; but now it was just an unwanted reminder that he wished would have faded with the setting sun. Frowning, he clenched a fistful of his blankets and tossed them off him; there was only one way he knew how to clear his head and have any hope of sleeping tonight. He changed into his Shiratorizawa track suit, laced up his shoes, and quietly left the dorms. His complained against moving and for a moment the sensation of stretching the tight muscles of his thighs and calves comforted him.

Nobody thought they would have played five full sets and he had pushed himself to his limit in that last game. Past the point where he normally passed the responsibility of Ace to Goshiki—even when his thighs felt like they would split, he hadn’t stopped jumping. Not when you had asked him with hopeful eyes to take you to Nationals again; poking the number on his chest playfully as you did so.

It wasn’t working. He tried focusing on the sound of his feet rhythmically hitting the pavement or his puffs of breath curling into the cool air—anything but the flashes of fiery hair, glasses, and that unknown feeling that was beginning to constrict his stomach. Ushijima ran faster, attempting to lose everything that haunted him in his wake; to no avail. Try as he might; the images kept up with him, tormenting him even at his faster pace. He was at a loss for what to do until he recognized his surroundings.

Your street.

He pulled out his phone to check the time. It wasn’t too late, and he knew you were a night owl; always texting him volleyball news when he was already long asleep. He liked waking up to them.

Sent - 00:42 Are you awake?

Within seconds, he received a response.

Received - 00:42 Yes, why?

His feet moved without him having to tell them to.

In mere minutes, he found himself standing beneath your window. He wasn’t even sure how to get your attention from here; maybe he should just turn back. But no, his subconscious had brought him here—and now that he was so close to you; he desperately wanted to see your face.

It was strange to Ushijima; being ruled by his emotions like this. Acting by pure impulse, he located a small pebble and tossed it against your window.

Nothing happened.

He threw another one.

Before he could find another rock, your window opened; revealing your beautiful face illuminated by the moon. You squinted down at him. “Wakatoshi? What are you doing here?” You were surprised to see him; by no means thinking that text he had sent you earlier meant he was visiting. But he didn’t look right—a strange expression adorning his face as he looked up at you. You assumed he wouldn’t be here unless something was wrong; especially since he was wearing his track suit, which meant he had been out for a run. He didn’t do that at this time of night unless something was keeping him awake. You could already guess what it was.

He realized he didn’t have an answer to your question. “I don’t know,” he said plainly.

You laughed—a sound that momentarily cleared his mind the way he had hoped his run would have. “Meet me at the front door.” You disappeared into your room and it took him a moment to register what you had said.

He’d visited plenty of times before, but certainly not in the middle of the night. The thought of the implications made his face flush with color and he was glad you weren’t there to witness it. That didn’t seem to matter though as he was already heading towards the entrance of the building; his anticipation to see you growing with every step. When he rounded the corner, you were already waiting for him. Standing in the doorway wearing sweatpants and a shirt he recognized as the one he gave you when you first became the team’s manager three years ago. He had no idea you still had it.

What he also didn’t know was that you wore it every time you felt like you needed him near. Even before you were dating, it let you dream that maybe one day he could be yours. Your first-year self would have never imagined he’d be standing at your front door looking at you the way he was now.

He stopped in front of you, realizing he didn’t have anything to say—couldn’t even come up with an explanation for himself, much less for you.

But you didn’t ask. You never did. You always seemed to already know, even if he didn’t, and he loved that about you.

You looked up at him with eyes that could see straight through him and quietly took his hand, pulling him to cross the threshold of the doorway. He trailed behind you down the familiar hallways to your room, you didn’t even stop once your door shut behind him and led him straight to your bedroom. He immediately missed the comfort of your fingers intertwined with his when you let go of his hand.

His mind still wasn’t at ease. That feeling that had been tormenting him all night was still there and he moved to sit at the edge of your bed, looking down at his hands again. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of him—hunched over and staring blankly at his palms. This wasn’t like him at all.

“…Toshi?” You said softly. The pure worry and care in your voice saying the nickname he so loved almost broke him.

“This…” he started, struggling to find words to describe how he felt. Another point of difficulty for him. You strode across the room to stand in front of him, waiting patiently for him to continue. You would never push him to tell you what he was thinking; wanting him to come to the decision to do so on his own. But he remained silent and you were left to figure out what was plaguing him on your own. You didn’t mind, it was part of the reason you two worked so well. You were good at deciphering how his body language translated into how he felt.

Once you figured it out, you fought the urge to laugh. He was here because he was dealing with something you knew he’d never experienced before, and he couldn’t understand it. Instead, you took his head into your hands and placed a light kiss on his forehead. “Losing,” you murmured against his hair, “is a foreign experience; isn’t it?”

Ah. There was the explanation he was searching for.

His fists clenched—he had failed his team, you, and himself. All because he had let that little number ten ruffle his feathers. You noticed his mood change the second the words left your lips. As if he could finally feel the brunt of his emotions now that he knew what was causing them. You couldn’t stand to see him like this. Surprising him, you sat down in his lap straddling him, and forced him to look at you. His brown eyes met yours and you desperately wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to know he could never fail you—no matter what he did.

Cupping his cheeks, you kissed him softly; hoping he might understand what you were trying to say. He responded to you immediately, wrapping his arms around you and pressing you against his chest to deepen the kiss. After a moment, he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. How could he possibly describe the resolve you had just sparked inside him with just that one kiss?

“I will win next time,” he whispered. A promise not only to you—but also himself.

A smile that could burn away any darkness he felt lit up your face. “I know.”

And the way you said it; with such honesty and confidence, was all he needed to hear.

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima scenario #ushijima imagine #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu blog

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gg-astrology · 6 years ago

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hey, how are you? could you pls do taurus sun, cap moon for the sun-moon placements thingy? ty 🥰💓

Hey there! 💕 💕 💕 Ahh I’m doing slightly better today tysm for asking! 💕 💕 I hope you’re doing well too! 💕 💕

[Below Cut: Taurus Sun - Capricorn Moon 🍵]

Wants love/nurture/care but at the same time they’re so plagued/bogged down by their own doubt, insecurity and ‘personal issues’

Most of these are self-fulfilling prophecies, but the double earth combo can have a really hard time not calculating consequences to things, actions, decision they think they have to make. That they lose opportunities for happiness altogether.

You’re practical to a fault, to the point where you feel yourself (know that you’re) limiting yourself. You like being decisive, directive. Concrete and straight-forward response ( ‘hey I think this..’) But you drive yourself into paranoia when it comes to trying to decipher other people’s reaction/motive/what they mean when they do that.

You flounder between thinking ‘oh maybe it doesn’t mean much’ and thinking ‘shit does it mean something?’ -- Taurus/Capricorn knows they can be oblivious (not pay attention) to other people’s reaction because they’re self-contained/sufficient. They may think themselves as kind of dense, and it has never been a problem for them until they actually hope/want something from others y know?

‘Ignorance is bliss’ can only work for so long, these people are stubborn and clingy to their own ways/methods to thing.

Learn sometimes that you are repressing your own emotions-- that emotions are supposed to flow, instead of blocking yourself for getting your hopes up, for having faith in others, for not being practical all the time.

Learn how to let emotions be emotions, how to ride the wave. It’ll help you ‘come down’ later (when it evens out) and think practically later.

This is how to develop your Capricorn Moon instead of making it ugh-- bad for you all the time. You can learn how to use it to your best, if you let it pause/hit stop and let emotions do it’s own thing as well (practice) without the interference of your mind buzzing all the time.

You work better when you actually process your emotions, let it heighten spike and then envelop you, before it evens out. Once you’re relaxed/drained-- you can have an easier time planning your next step of action (instead of your overly obsessive hyped up paranoid self doing the thinking)

Anyways it’ll take time. Taurus/Capricorn are also people who stands firm with their friends, they may not show it much but they do care. And often times they’d like to spoil others if they can (Venus/Saturn)

That doesn’t mean that they do it thoughtlessly, these people are prudent/frugal to a fault. Even when you spoil your friend it’s as a ‘reward’ -- you want them to feel like they’ve accomplished something before you shower them with gifts.

You can be stern/strict when you have to, you know when to put your feet down and you’re not afraid to do it. Often times, you’re the friend who always have your head on right and can stop others from being ‘stupid/foolish/going to hurt themselves’--- but you have to learn how to let go

You know this--- part of your insecurity is that you feel like you’re not as fun or bold or joyful as others. You like your comfort, but why is there nothing ‘special’ in your comfort you can show off to others? Learn how to let go, let your impulsivity come by. Learn how to tie your practicality with bold ideas, let your friend influence/help you, enable you to do stuff and put that clever clever mind to use instead.

You’re better at being street-smart than you realize, you just like safety a lot. Learn how to listen to others, have an open-mind to those who’s a little more maverick than you. Learn how to have fun, and find your purpose socially too (who you are socially) -- it’ll help you feel a little less distanced/not so special and a lot more appreciative of your own traits y know?

With those you love, you love dearly. You set down roots with fond trust and happiness with them. But that takes time and shift to grow on you because you can be terrified of change/things that moves too fast. You might have to confront that fear-- especially if you feel like someone is trying to get you to open- up/changes in your relationship-- don’t let your own stubbornly/safety-net keep you from not adjusting to the pace of the world.

Value yourself in your talent, your skills rather than the result/what you get from it. Your worries are often just your own make-up of things that you think are against you (odds more than benefits even if it’s made up in your mind-- opportunities vs practicality, you hesitate to think about opportunities you can afford.).

You have to learn how to let go of your ‘self-identity that’s measured with material wealth around you’ -- whether it’s with friends (unstabilizing friendship) with your achievements or with what/who you think you are. By re-defining yourself with positivity and optimism-- like ‘yeah I’m a good artist/person/deserve to be love’ -- you advance more and doesn’t let your own adversary (your own mind) get the best of you.

Try not to hold onto your fears, or suppress your feeling so much. You have to release that tension by openly admitting to it and talking about it-- I know as an earth/earth you’re already going ‘yikes sure maybe later’-- but try to do so now. Try to implement it now in your everyday life. Grab one of your friends, and maybe have them help you learn how to be better at expressing/accepting your feelings.

(Don’t grab another earth sign friend btw, or fire sign for that matter. Try to grab someone who’s a water, preferably Scorpio or Cancer)

I hope this helps! 💕 Good luck!! 💕 💕

#taurus sun #capricorn moon #taurus #capricorn #taurus-capricorn #honestly...all earth placement should hear this #virgo #anon #asks

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