#part of a larger work that may or may not ever see the light of day

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐏 𖥔

summary ; your relationship with daryl only deepens when he reaches an all new level of vulnerability with you.

pairing ; daryl dixon x girlfriend!reader

notes ; established relationship, fluff + angst, mentions of scars.

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

daryl’s eyes stay locked on you as he slowly shrugged off his shirt, the scars and markings on his olive-toned skin now fully visible in the dimly lit room. large jagged lines of damaged tissue stretched along his back, some old and overlapping, while others were newer and more defined. each one told a story of the battles he had survived. the pain he had endured. every one of them making him the man you had grown to love.

you knew daryl had scars, just as you all did, but you had only ever glimpsed his before in passing - an accidental run-in while he was changing - but this was different. this was deliberate, a conscious choice he was making to bare not just his skin, but a part of himself that he typically kept hidden. the act alone spoke volumes about the growing trust he had implemented in you. no matter how hard he tried to remain his usual stoicism and keep you at arms length, you had weaselled your way into his heart, and there was no turning back now. 

“i told ya, they ain’t pretty,” his voice is low and rough as he spoke, a hint of insecurity in his guarded gaze.

“no, they aren’t,” you say softly, agreeing with his comment as you slowly and cautiously step towards him. “but they’re a part of you, of who you are, and i think you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever met.”

daryl’s body tensed slightly as your fingers gingerly touch one of his larger scars, the rough callused skin shifting beneath your light touch. his breath hitched for a moment, his gaze locked on you through the mirror before him, watching every movement closely. 

no one had ever touched his scars before, not like this, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he stayed still, letting you explore the map of his history etched deep into his flesh. it was like electric jolts through his system, the way your soft touch sent a shiver across his skin under your fingertips. no one had ever touched him with such tenderness, especially not his scars. the air around them seemed to crackle with tension as he gazed down at you, the weight of your words and touch hitting him deep in his heart. 

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper, “ain’t nobody ever called me ‘beautiful’ before.”

“... you are.” 

a soft whale escapes his lips as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him back into the comfort of your soft embrace. the feel of your body against his back shoots sparks through his core, and he subconsciously leans into your touch, craving more of the soothing warmth. 

he feels your lips graze his shoulder blade, the tenderness of a kiss sending a shiver down his spine. the gesture almost undoes him as you nuzzle into him and he lets out a low, shaky breath.

“do you not think you are?” you ask. 

he hesitates for a moment, his rugged features etched with a mix of vulnerability and self-doubt as he struggles with the unfamiliar praise. 

“dunno,” he mutters, voice gruff. “never thought of myself as beautiful, just a tough old redneck who’s been in a few fights.” 

he glances over his shoulder at you, dark eyes assessing, waiting for your reaction. the walls he had built up over years of pain and rejection are starting to show cracks, revealing the deeply insecure man underneath. the man that very few people got to see.

“that may be who you think you are, but that doesn’t mean it’s all that you are.”

his gaze locks onto yours, raw and exposed. he’s not used to having someone see him, not just the scars on his body, but the scars of his soul. his throat feels tight, but he manages a raspy reply.

“yeah?” he cocks his head slightly, his usual gruffness undercut with a hint of vulnerability he can’t quite hide. not with you. “what else am i then?”

with each word you speak, you press a kiss to his back, “you’re a strong… courageous… loyal… caring… stubborn…misguided…gentle…man, who deserves far more than this world can offer him.” 

with each word and each kiss, daryl feels a wave of emotion well up within him, his defences slowly crumbling. the way you speak about him, your words dripping with genuine sincerity, stirs something deep inside of him. it’s almost too much, and he has to resist the urge to pull you into his arms. 

he huffs out a wry, amused laugh when you call him stubborn, “and i’m just supposed to believe all that?”

“like i said… stubborn.” you press one more kiss to his back, smiling into it. 

daryl can’t help but let out a husky chuckle as your lips press into his back once more. his head dips down, trying to hide the slight blush that creeps across his cheeks at your teasing. 

“yeah, guess you’re right on that one,” he mutters, grudgingly admitting defeat. he then glances over his shoulder, his gruff exterior crumbling a little more. “you forgot somethin’ though.”

your eyes narrow playfully as he now turns to face you. his arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you against his muscular frame in a gesture that’s both tender and possessive at the same time. his dark eyes are intense as they look down at you, searching yours for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. 

when he speaks, his voice is softer than usual, and there’s a slight nervous twinge to his tone, “you forgot to say i’m yours.”

you smile, leaning up to kiss him but stop just before you do, your lips barely brushing against his, “that’s just a known fact, sweetheart.”

the closeness of your lips against his was enough to make sparks dance under his skin. but your coy response, that hint of a tease in your voice, does him in, and he’s powerless against the magnetic pull between you both. when you finally close the distance and kiss him, he responds almost immediately, the kiss deep and intense right from the start. 

his arms tighten around your waist, his hands splaying across your lower back to pull you even closer, eliminating any space between you. his lips move against yours in a desperate dance, a silent affirmation of what you both already knew. 

when you finally break apart, he rests his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding as if it wants to leap out of his chest. he gazes down at you, a mix of awe and wonder in his eyes as he takes in the vision of you, your swollen lips and flushed cheeks. he looks almost dazed, as if he’s trying to process the fact that you, a creature of such beauty and kindness, exists in his crazy, unnatural life.

a small, disbelieving chuckle escapes him as he speaks, “the hell’d i do to deserve you?”

“everything. you did everything to deserve me.” you reassure him, his heart swelling in his chest as you do. 

he lets out a shaky exhale as you kiss him again, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go for even a second. 

when he speaks again, his voice is low, rough around the edges with unguarded emotion, “don’t you ever leave me.”

“even if i did, i know you’d find me,” you run a hand through his hair, an adoring smile on your face as his eyes flutter shut at the touch. he lets out a low hum, the corners of his mouth curving up into a rare smile. 

he opens his eyes to look at you again, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and determination, “i’d tear this whole world apart to find ya if i had to.”

“and i’d be waiting for you.”

[buckysdollbarnes]

you are in love series - part one

one look, dark room

PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader

Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.

warnings: mild language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.

a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3

Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.

Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.

I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.

Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.

Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.

“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”

Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.

Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.

“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.

“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”

You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.

He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.

“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”

Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.

“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.

“Well, I’m already here so.”

You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.

“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.

He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.

“James.”

“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”

“Won’t happen, doll.”

“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”

“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”

He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.

He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.

“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?

You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.

He strolls further into the room.

“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”

Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.

“It’s no problem.”

His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.

James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.

“I have to go.”

Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”

You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.

“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”

He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.”

As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.

Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.

“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.

“People are practically giving this stuff away.”

Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.

Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.

You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.

Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.

Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.

You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.

Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?

“Independent woman, my ass.”

With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.

Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.

“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”

After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.

“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”

“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”

The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.

As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.

After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.

You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.

“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”

As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?

Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”

James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.

He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.

“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.

Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.

“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”

James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.

Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.

Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.

The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.

As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”

You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.

Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.

After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.

“You like records?”

Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.

“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”

Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.

“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”

“So which one are you?” he asks.

You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.

“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”

James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.

“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”

Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.

“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.

He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”

That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.

He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.

He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.

“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.

All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.

Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.

“You can do anything on here, Buck!”

Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.

“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“Sam, hi.”

“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”

“Is it about wizards?”

“What?”

“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”

“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”

“Was it a girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”

“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”

“I’m not getting the problem.”

“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”

“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”

“Not feeling it.”

“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”

“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”

“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”

Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.

“They have that?”

“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”

“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.

Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.

Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.

You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.

You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.

Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.

“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.

Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.

“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”

Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.

Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.

“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”

His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.

“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”

You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”

Bucky stumbles over his words.

“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”

“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”

“What are those?”

You pause, confused.

“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”

“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.

“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.

As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.

Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.

He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.

You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.

You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.

“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.

Hesitating, he shakes his head.

“What do you usually go by then?”

Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.

“Bucky.”

You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.

“So… metal hand…”

Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”

“You’re that Bucky.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, you start again.

“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”

Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”

“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.

Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.

“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”

You’re interrupted by his response.

“Are you not scared?”

“Of course not.”

Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”

“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice  carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.

“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”

You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”

Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.

He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.

Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.

You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.

“I’m Bucky.”

You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”

He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”

a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.

[freelancearsonist]

Sensation

Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Rated MA for 2k of pure porn with barely any plot, consensual blindfolding, dom/sub dynamics (Matt punishing reader), oral sex, piv sex, all the sex

1,975 Words

A/N: as always thank you to my love @shakespeareanwannabe for being my best beta reader (and for the prompt ofc) 🖤 i wrote this in one sitting at like 10PM so sorry if it sucks LMAO

“This is a punishment,” Matt reminds you, his breath heavy enough against your ear to send a shiver down your spine. He knows it, of course–if your eyes weren’t firmly covered with his tie, you’d be able to see the smirk that slowly spreads across his full lips.

In your defense, you’re not sure how exactly he expected you to behave tonight. He had you get all dolled up so he could take you to a fancy restaurant for dinner, and of course he was the most edible thing in the entire establishment. It’s his own fault for looking so damned fine, really. If he hadn’t worn that sleek, form-fitting suit with that blood-red tie (the exact one now being used as your punishment blindfold), you wouldn’t have had to misbehave. And really, kissing him deeply in front of the whole restaurant wasn’t that bad. Even if you did grab his ass a little a lot. How could you possibly be expected to keep your hands to yourself?

Not that you’re really complaining about this punishment. Your eyes may have been the thing to get you into trouble in the first place, but every sensation is heightened so much further without their use

For instance, the way his hands trace down your thighs. Normally it’s nothing more than a touch to you, a mark of the journey on his way to where you really want him. Tonight, it’s more than that. It makes your body jolt ever so slightly when his hands first make contact, and then you notice the intention of his feather-light pressure as they move. It’s meant to drive you crazy, and it works perfectly. Normally, it would take more effort to get you squirming. Yet this simple touch rips a completely involuntary whine from your throat. You hear him chuckle, and you know he’s eating this up. Part of you wants to rebel, to not give him the satisfaction of witnessing you enjoy your punishment. But the other–larger–part of you wants nothing more than for his touch to continue.

You don’t have to ask–he’s gracious in that aspect. This time his hands work their way up, gliding over the smooth expanse of your stomach to his target. He revels in the gasp you emit when his fingertips dance under the curves of your breasts, almost but not quite touching in a way that makes you want to growl and beg for more.

But begging isn’t what’s on his mind tonight. He’ll give you anything you want without making you ask–Matt’s goal is stimulation.

And that’s why he wastes no time cupping your breasts in his hands, running the roughly calloused pads of his thumbs over your taut nipples. It feels divine; the perfect mix of friction and pressure. 

You’ve known from your first romp in the sheets together that your boyfriend is talented, especially when it comes to bedroom activities. He’s never failed to make you feel euphoria beyond your wildest dreams. But you’ve never appreciated his skilled hands as much as you do in this moment.

And then his mouth takes over for the hand that slides up to idly hold your neck–not applying pressure, just resting there as a subtle reminder of his power over you–and you swear you’re dying. You must be halfway out of your body and on the way to heaven because nothing should be able to feel this good. Especially not something as simple as his ever-so-soft and wet tongue gliding smoothly in a tight circle before laving directly over your nipple.

You jolt from the sensation and his hand is quick to shoot down to your hip, a steadying pressure to keep you in place as he continues the assault with his mouth.

It’s a lot, the combination of his hands and his mouth on your delicate skin. Especially with your senses tuned and stretched tight as piano wire. But it’s not too much, and he knows it. He knows he can keep pushing, and he wants to. He’s curious exactly what your breaking point will be.

Matt is rarely impatient, but he is now. The feeling of your trembling muscles, the scent of your neglected arousal, the sound of your panted breaths–it all drives him wild with desire. He’s aching and desperate for you in a way that he’s tried to train himself never to be. Patience is a virtue, after all; but there’s nothing virtuous about Matthew Murdock when he has you like this.

He trails his tongue down, down, down; only pausing for a moment to suck a deep velvet mark into the flesh of your stomach. It’s worth the reaction that comes from you–simultaneously trying to squirm away yet push closer to him. He loves you like this, so carnally unraveled. There’s not a thought in your head–a head that’s normally swirling with genius and creativity–which is such a luxurious rarity. He’s proud of himself, really, for his ability to unwind you so easily. 

He takes a moment for himself, soaking in your scent and sounds as he settles himself between your spread thighs. There are few places he loves to be more than right here, with your legs wrapped around his head and his tongue buried in you.

There are few places you love for him to be more, too. Especially like this, with every nerve in your body on high alert. The anticipation is deadly–without your sight, you never know when his next touch is coming. It’s maddening, entrancing, arousing. You don’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed of how wet you are; not that he would ever expect you to be. Matt is never quite satisfied until he has you dripping enough to necessitate a sheet change once he’s done ruining you.

You’re halfway there already, and he can’t deny himself any longer. You owe him, really–he had to skip dessert after your little display at the restaurant so he could drag you home.

Maybe he has a thing for your possessive nature. He doesn’t really feel the need to put a label on it.

The first light flick of his tongue against your waiting core is hardly enough to feel. Perhaps under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t feel it at all. But like this, with every ounce of your being wound tight with anticipation, it feels like a hot bullet of pleasure slicing through your cunt. It makes you whine and squirm, necessitating his large hands to come to your hips so he can hold his dessert in place.

The second flick of his tongue isn’t really a flick but more of a drag. Hot and languid, savoring the sweetness of your want for him. It’s Matt who moans this time–deep in his throat, completely unconscious. He can’t help it, not when you taste this good.

He really does want to drag this out. He wants to take his time making a meal of you, savor every second of your taste on his tongue. But he’s desperate, and teasing is out the door when he gets like this. There’s no time for you to prepare before he’s delving in, drinking from you like you’re his fountain of youth. 

It’s harsh, the sudden overload of sensation. It makes you writhe under his strong grip and gasp for breath as you try not to shatter into a billion pieces. It makes your thighs clamp around his head, holding him into place as a plea for him to not stop, to never stop. It makes your stomach churn, muscles aching from how tightly your internal coil is wound.

It makes you tumble over the edge with barely a second’s notice.

A fresh wave of wetness meets his greedy tongue as he basks in the sound of your moans and sobs, and suddenly he’s starting to wonder if this punishment isn’t for him. It must be, because the deep ache in his balls and the way his pants have tightened so unbearably can’t be anything but a punishment.

He’s eager to remedy this situation as his soft lips trace gentle kisses into the meat of your thighs, giving you a short reprieve from the onslaught of stimulation. Emphasis on short–all the while he’s unbuckling his belt and hastily shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs, too desperate to take the time to bare himself for you.

“Ready?” He asks, taking the time and attention to set a gentle kiss on your chin as he positions himself between your legs.

You nod, but it’s not enough.

“Words, baby.” That stern tone of his could make you do literally anything.

“Yes,” you say, and he’s balls deep before you’ve even finished the word.

It’s nothing short of overwhelming. The sheer size of him, which is already daunting on a regular day, is nearly unbearable. He’s stretching seemingly every inch of you, bullying your body into accommodating his girth. You feel his tip kiss your cervix, and it makes tears of pleasure prickle at the corners of your eyes.

In his favor, he does give you a moment to recover from the sudden shock of his intrusion. And then he rolls his hips–not even pulling out, but somehow managing to get even deeper. You feel him so completely it’s almost as if he’s in your god damned throat. And he relishes it; the salt of your tears, the hitch of your breath, the tremble of your chest.

He draws out almost completely, then bullies his way back in. Your cunt squeezes so tight around him that he actually swears–your good, sweet, church-going Matt curses the heavens for making you so tight and wet and willing. Because even as he sets his harsh pace, slamming into you with something akin to ferocity, you don’t complain. You take every inch of him with gratitude, nails scratching down his back because your blissed-out mind needs some form of purchase.

The blindfold really isn’t doing anything for you at this point; your eyes are squeezed so tightly shut that you hardly even register it’s there anymore. Your mind can’t focus on a single sensation, but it processes everything–the slick glide of his cock pounding into you, the slap of his thighs against yours, his mouth trailing panted kisses over your neck. There’s so much sensation that it overwhelms you, turns you numb as you clench even tighter around him.

He almost asks if it’s too much, although the thought of stopping now makes his gut ache. But there’s no need–as soon as his thumb sweeps lightly over your clit, you’re shattering. The pleasure of it makes you shake and cough, like your engine’s on its last leg and you’re about to break down on the side of the road. Your cunt weeps with the stimulation, soaking down your thighs and his until there’s no hope of redeeming these sheets. 

Matt doesn’t let up until your contracting muscles go limp, just in time for him to spill deep inside of you with a final harsh thrust of his hips. It’s warm and hot and the perfect sensation to end on, even as he slowly eases his length out of you so he can flop down next to you.

There’s nothing but the sound of heavy panting for a moment or two, and then Matt’s fingers find your face so he can undo the tie wrapped over your eyes. Then his lips are on you again; this time pressing gentle kisses over your sore eyelids.

“You okay?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. You’re not quite sure how to express just how okay you are. You decide on, “The only punishing part of that will be if we never do that again.”

He laughs as he pulls you to cuddle against his chest, because he’s thinking the same exact thing.

THE END

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[mintmatcha]

I loved part two so much😭😭

Gib more Obi pls

Draconic works more like a melody than it does a language. It's tonal, drifting high and low as the two dragonborns speak, each word rolling into the next. It lingers in the air, unrushed and growled, pushed from the back of the throat in ways you're not sure your body could ever recreate. Sometimes, the conversation seems to have an edge of anger and it sets your body on guard, but then Obsidian dissolves into laughter and you relax.

You shouldn't be on edge anyway; the dark scaled stranger isn't //actually// a stranger. Jasper Vyke towers over his brother even when seated, but the strong angled spikes and ridges to his face are almost identical. His eyes keep flickering to yours as he talks, no hint of humor present on his stony features.

"You stare." Jasper jerks a chin to you.

"I'm sorry," you say, turning your attention to the campfire. "I didn't expect you two to look so similar."

"Well-" Obi covers his mouth with the back of his hand, but it doesn't hide his smile, "We are twins, my lady."

Meeting Jasper was completely a coincidence. Crossed paths led to a surprise family reunion and now the man sits at your fire, gnawing on the leg of some poor animal he hunted earlier. From stories and your brief interactions, you knew the two would be vastly different people--

You didn't expect that to almost share a face.

"We are, uh-- How do you say in Common?" He can speak Common fairly well, Obi told you once, he just prefers his Mothertongue. It's a point of pride.

"Identical."

"Indentical," Jasper repeats, "Obsidian is the smart one. I am the pretty one."

He flexes a bicep and the muscle coils under the skin. You hate to admit that you do find it attractive-- not as attractive as you find your partner, of course, but it does make you sit a little straighter. If Obi notices, he doesn't seem it mind; he's too busy watching his brother with narrowed eyes.

"I don't think you are identical at all," you say, "Obi's so much--"

"Smaller!" Jasper laughs, leaning in close to nudge you with his elbow. "So much smaller. He is the runt."

"I guess so," You agree with him, but you sense that may hurt your partner's ego, so you keep quiet, "But you are also different colors."

You touch Jasper's arm, running a thumb across a patch of scales. It's no wear near as soft as Obsidian's; there's a dry grit to the texture, closer to shark skin than anything else.

"Obsidian is iridescent-- your scales are matte," you say, "They don't shine in the light at all."

"You like my scales?" Jasper asks, chest puffed and a purr on his voice. He scooches in closer to you, leg pressed against yours, "I will give you one to keep."

Obi snaps his jaws together so forcefully that you jump at the sound. Both of you swivel to face the man. His muzzle is furrowed wildly, so much so that his fangs show to the gums. The air shifts and you can almost see the way magic crackles about him, wild, powerful, and raw. "She has plenty of scales, brother."

An anxiety builds in your chest. You aren't sure where this conflict came from, but you sense you did something wrong.

"Obi, it's fine, I like--"

Obi's attention snaps to you. "If you wish to have a scale to carry I will give you as many as you desire. You do not need anyone else's."

They switch to Draconic again, sharing a low toned conversation. Obsidian may be the smaller brother, but he carries himself with a force that has Jasper quickly backing off.

"Forgive me," The larger brother says to you suddenly.

The apology doesn't make you feel better. The seasick feeling in your chest grows more unsteady and you choose to remain quiet for the rest of the night. It's not until later than night, when Jasper is deep in sleep and snoring like thunder, that Obi approaches you again. He moves his sleeping mat closer to yours, testing your reaction, then moves again.

"Are you cross with me?" he whispers.

"You frightened me a bit," you admit just as softly, "I get unsettled easy after Adam."

Elaboration isn't needed. There's a twitch of a sneer on Obi's face when you mention him, but he mellows out again after.

"I'm truly sorry, my fawn. My anger was not focused at you," he says, "I will take care not to react like that again."

He extends a hand and you take it with a squeeze. The unsteadiness inside you quells just a bit.

"Jasper was trying to court you," Obsidian says after a bit, "And it scared me."

You forget Obi - silver tongued, charismatic Obi- is self conscious about so many things. Did he really think his brother would swoop in so easily and win your heart?

"I didn't realize. I thought he was just being nice."

"Exchanging scales is a dragonborn custom. It's my fault for not explaining it to you," he sighs, "I just..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. You don't need him too. You just squeeze his hand again, stronger this time.

"Why have you never given me a scale?"

"I did not think you would like one, my fawn."

"I want two," you say, quickly, "I shall turn them into earrings so they are always with me."

"They are not jewels," he chuckles, "They will not make very pretty jewelry."

"I disagree."

Obi doesn't respond, but you can hear the soft clicks of his purr, building in his throat.

[fatuismooches]

FOR THE HARBINGERS

Reader telling them "I love you", and they either smile, fluster or say ilyt BUT reader is like " no you don't understand ". Grabs them by the shoulder, looks them dead straight in the eye and says it slowly once again. " I. Love. You." And proceed to say the most devoted, loving words about them and how reader is so in love, loyal and just. UGHHHH

Take it easy! Just bask into this idea, hope you don't stress over answering a bunch of (my 😭) asks!! Mwah mwah 💕💕 /p

OH I AM MORE THAN BASKING INTO THIS BECAUSE IT IS SO REAL!!!! We love a reader who is completely and utterly in love with their Harbingers <3 Pierro and Capitano are the ones who stay silent as you go on a whole tangent about how much you love them. Pierro retains his usual serious look, but you're so caught up with your words you may not notice how his face turns softer at your blatant declarations of devotion. Sure, he has a mountain of work to catch up on, but what kind of lover would he be if he didn't let his love rant their feelings out to him? He's not the most verbal or physically affectionate, but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate it. I imagine he's been betrayed and such in the past, you know with Celestia and Khaenri'ah and all, so he deeply appreciates your words. Capitano... well, you can never really see his expression with that big helmet of his, so it's a bit hard to tell what he's thinking but don't worry!! His heart is beating quicker than usual and his mind is racing as to what to reply with!! Since when did you become so romantic and affectionate? He hasn't read enough romance advice books to respond properly yet! So Capitano just... pats your head and thanks you so sincerely it makes you giggle. He attempts to formally respond to your feelings via writing but he can't find the right words, unfortunately.

Dottore (that's who you're here for, I know) merely bursts into a laugh. No, he's not laughing at you, but he simply finds it a bit amusing. The idea of true devotion, of genuine loyalty, of real love... he still toys with those concepts a bit. He does feel these things toward you, but he won't verbalize them. Yet you don't seem to care about admitting those feelings toward him in the slightest... in fact, it seems like you jump at the chance to tell him how much you adore him... it's a bit funny to Dottore. Of course, he won't ever stop you, he does enjoy being worshipped and loved by you. Akademiya Zandik, on the other hand, would probably fight you off and then storm away to hide his blushing cheeks. How dare you say such idiotic things to him and how dare you make his heart thump hard at such stupid words. Pantalone too, except it's less of a laugh and more of a few chuckles. He's the kind of person to smile and nod at everything you say, completely enamored by you. He'll stop you in the middle and ask you to elaborate on a specific part and you happily do, he's stroking his own ego at this point but how can you blame him? His darling is being far too cute for him not to want to tease them a bit!

Columbina and Childe are very excited and blushy over it. They adore it when you're so open with them! Columbina's smile is even larger than usual as she hums in agreement with everything you're saying. Yes, please keep adoring her like this. She loves hearing about how much you love her. She's quite open with her feelings toward you too, so to hear it reciprocated so plainly? Pure bliss for her! Childe too is similar, you can literally see how he lights up and a faint blush spreads across his cheeks when you flatter him with such praise. But not for too long, because he'll pick you up and tease you ten times harder. Trying to get on his good side, hmm? Well, he'll have you know he loves you far more than you ever cold. Occasionally, he gets worried about whether it's right to be with you since he's in the Fatui, so these kinds of messages are secretly quite reassuring to him.

Arlecchino and Signora are very elegant and smooth about it. They watch you with a knowing smile, hands tracing over your collarbone and up to your neck and chin... a finger combing through your hair. Arlecchino is still a quiet and reserved woman, she still doesn't say much after your confession, but she is very pleased. Kisses you and gives you a sincere thank you. In her line of work, it's not often she find someone as loyally passionate as you are. Much less someone she loves to the deepest depths of her heart. She knows that you'll never betray or stab her in the back, and she shall never do that to you either. Signora is more smug and teasing about it. Oh? You truly love her that much? How about you show her it too? She ends up flustering you despite you being the one throwing all these sweet words at you. She truly loves being pampered by you, she needs it after all with all of the heartache she went through with her last lover, who she was abruptly cut off from.

Scaramouche and Sandrone short circuit for a few moments before springing back to life, stuttering and berating you for such stupidity and hurriedly breaking free from your grip. They can't deal with such loving words being directed towards them, especially unprompted. Scaramouche's expression is one that you have imprinted in your memory, the uncharacteristic redness and slack jaw, before he becomes his usual Scara self and launches into a long speech about how clingy and strange you were and that you should never do that ever again lest he actually get mad (this is a plea for you to confess all of that again, despite his adamant protest... you know he loves being loved, a feeling that always seemed to slip away from him. He's hesitant about it but he can't deny the rush of his "heart" when he hears your sincere words.) Sandrone's face is just blank. Blank like a robot. She opens her mouth to speak and then closes it, and then opens it again but she's at a loss for words. She finally gets out a half-hearted insult and ends up stuttering halfway through, so that's already not a good look for her. It seems even her usual bad attitude can't keep up when assaulted with such genuine affection...

And... Papanella can get a little platonic kiss on the cheek while you thank him for being the best grandad.

[sastrology]

the rising and you

(part 1/3)

ARIES RISING: FOREST FIRE

pictured: (Rihanna and Stevie Nicks, Aries Rising)

Individuals born with an Aries rising stand out of a crowd. They typically have exuberant personalities and an easy time drawing friends. They're likely to be quite opinionated and are not the type to keep beating around the bush or react well to passive-aggressive behavior. They love anything that is new and fresh. These individuals are known for being quite go-getters who will not settle. They can be very blunt and to the point which can irritate the softer rising signs, but they prefer to let people know where they stand and hate beating around the bush.

With a Cancer 4th house (if sign interceptions are not present) they can have a strong bond with the family and feel as though they are the family's protector which can make them act out impulsively if they ever feel threatened. Even if they are the youngest sibling, they often become a sort of mother figure to the rest.

Build wise they will appear more masculine, and athletic even if they don’t work out. They really pop in sportswear regardless of build. Red and black colors are flattering and make their features pop. Pointed chins that form into a well-defined square jaw with thick and defined eyebrows. Being the first sign of the zodiac they can also appear quite younger than they are. They may also have a lot of scars or bruises on the face and body.

TAURUS RISING: ROCKS AT A SEA SHORE

pictured: (Fred Rogers and Vivien Leigh, Taurus Rising)

Individuals with a Taurus Rising exude a calm, stable energy that a lot of people crave. They're stubborn, generous individuals who can be very pleasing and practical to speak with. They really enjoy luxury and beauty items and take a lot of time for self-care. They are the types to not really want to involve themselves in drama as they can think of 100 other things they'd rather be doing. They’re never going to say everything you want to hear, they will say what you need to hear. They are strong individuals who can bare the weight of the waves that can crash down on them.

With Leo in the 4th house (if sign interceptions are not at play) it shows they needed a lot of love growing up. Whether that was met or not is ambiguous, but Taurus Rising individuals are either made strong or born strong. They may have great pride for the home and enjoy throwing family get-togethers and cookouts and do it tastefully.

Facial features tend to be very symmetrical with naturally curly hair. They’re built with a well-formed body, average-to-short statures, larger arms, and a strong neck. Thick, curly hair is more likely. Thanks to the Venusian influence, these risings can have softened almost refined features. As to be expected, these risings look great in greens and burnt umbers. They typically care quite a bit about what they look like, so beauty can be a focus.

GEMINI RISING: KALEIDOSCOPE

pictured: (Amy Winehouse and Drew Barrymore, Gemini Rising)

Gemini Rising individuals are bright, vivacious, and expressive individuals. You can usually spot them pretty easily since they love to talk and communicate and use a lot of hand movements. They have keen observation skills and the ability to read people quickly. They are very light-hearted, yet impulsive individuals, who love to give their opinion on anything. They are very strong communicators with a lot of charm. They're very changeable in nature and can change their minds often as they are constantly seeing the world from a new angle due to their curious mind that never stops working.

With Virgo in the 4th house (if sign interceptions are not present) we see organized individuals who strive to help their loved ones improve. They will provide a lot of acts of service to the family and constantly strive for more ways to better assist them. If something goes wrong in the house or family, they can become bogged down on the tiny details and become frustrated. They are very good at organizing as they are able to see all of the little details to help make something perfect.

The eyes are clear and sparkle, especially when they get to talk about something they're passionate about. Broad foreheads and they may appear younger than they are. They typically have slim builds and average to tall heights. The limbs in general are quite long, including the fingers, legs, and neck. VERY expressive facial expressions.

CANCER RISING: SPRING RAIN

pictured: (Selena Gomez and Farrah Fawcett, Cancer Rising)

Individuals with a Cancer ascendant are remembered for heartfelt talks at 3 am, intuitive nature, and innocence they project.

With Libra in the 4th house (if sign interceptions are not present) they will be known for having an aesthetically pleasing house. They may be a bit messy, but it carries a certain charm to it. Venusian in nature, they may make great designers and have a knack for interior designing.

With the parents they may measure a lot of their worth on the approval they get from them. They could have a low tolerance for arguments in the household and have mastered the role of peace keepers.

As with most rising signs, the eyes can be round buckets of depth. People with a Cancer rising typically have rounded features. The hair and skin can be very luminous and carry a healthy glow and plump to it. They pull off silvers, charcoals, and greys like they just walked off a 1940s film set. Women with this rising typically develop femininely quite young and carry a fuller figure.

as always, I am not an astrologer. This is based on my astrology books and online research over the years. This is a very basic assessment of the rising sign, as a LOT of other factors can influence a person's personality.

[bookworm551]

Take the Edge Off | Part 7 | The Bet (2/2)

After losing your bet against Miguel, it’s time for you to pay up.

A/N: alrighty y’all, this is almost entirely smut. Full disclosure, I don’t do BDSM, so I wrote what I was comfortable with. Also, this is like the longest chapter I’ve ever written for anything, so you can see why I broke it up into parts and why it took me so long to finish. Still, I had fun with it :) also, miguel is soooo Lana coded <3

Warnings: smut, temperature play, spanking, handcuffing, sight deprivation, oral f-receiving, orgasm denial/edging, knife play if you squint, and the nastiest of them all—fluff

Word count: 7.5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

When you emerged from the portal, you were surprised to find yourself standing in a large room. It was similar to your own little apartment you had here on Earth-928, but this was much larger with full-size windows overlooking Nueva York. Despite its size, the apartment was scarcely furnished. There was a large bed on one wall, neatly made, and minimal furniture in the space. It seemed barely lived in, which you were sure was the case given how much Miguel worked.

"What a view," you commented as you stepped towards the large windows that displayed the city below. It was an impressive sight, the bustling vehicles in the air and on the ground zooming around almost like bees in a hive. It was like the people of Earth-57218 but with less beauty and more technology. You could feel Miguel's presence right behind you, and he took a second to watch the busy lives of the people below with you.

You were reminded of your thoughts from earlier that evening about living a normal life. Would he ever have thoughts like that, too? Would he ever think of you the way you thought of him?

Finally, he lifted a hand to the glass and gently tapped it twice with his finger. The glass immediately darkened, cutting off much of the natural light that had been flooding in before. "Don't get distracted," he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your neck. "You lost the bet, and now it's time to pay up."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words, and you couldn't tell if you were nervous or excited at the prospect of him doing "whatever he wanted" to you.

"Well, I don't get paid until next Friday, so I can get you your money then," you joked, halfway turning to face him. When you looked up at his face, your heart sped up by the hungry look in his eyes. "Money is useless to me," he muttered. "You have what I want right now."

You wanted to reply that money wasn't useless to you, but when he snaked his arm around your torso and pressed his lips to your neck, he stole all the snark out of you. His body leaned forward against your own, and he bent over and lifted you up bridal style.

You chuckled lightly. "This is romantic," you commented as he walked you over to his bed. He set you down gently, and the bed sagged down as he hovered over you. "I would hardly describe what I'm about to do as romantic," he murmured, his eyes alight with lust.

You felt that same flutter of anticipation in your stomach again. "And what are you going to do?" You asked breathlessly. His eyes studied your face with a subtle smirk growing on his lips. "That's for you to find out," he told you smugly. "Why would I spoil the fun?"

You huffed in annoyance at his secrecy. In truth, you were nervous for what he may do to you. Was he going to hurt you? Was he going to leave you covered in marks? What sort of dark fantasies did Miguel O'Hara have hidden away?

He must have been able to read your apprehension on your face because his eyes softened slightly. "I want you to listen very closely," he said. "I'm going to do what I want, but you get to tell me where the line is, okay? That's all you have to say."

You blinked up at him. "Line?" You repeated softly. He nodded and confirmed, "Line." Your heart was racing now in anticipation. Safe words were new for you two, and you wondered how far he wanted to go. Still, it gave you a measure of comfort that he would ultimately defer to what you were willing to do.

He waited for you to respond, so you nodded your understanding at him. A faint grin pulled at his lips before he pressed them onto your own with a kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth, and you gave a soft moan as he kissed you passionately.

His hands wandered down your arms to your wrists, and he gently removed your web shooters, causing your suit to disappear from your body. You were left laying in his bed in only your bra and underwear. There was a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he stared down at your mostly-naked figure under him.

"Do you remember our first time together?" He asked softly as he ran his hands up your stomach slowly and reached under your back. You arched your body to allow him to unhook your bra while replying with a smirk, "How could I not?" The image of him tied up and begging was forever seared in your mind, and you often thought of it late at night with your hand between your legs.

"Do you remember what I told you then?" He continued as he tossed aside your garment and began palming your breasts with his large hands. Your eyes were closed now in response to his sensual touch, and it made it difficult for you to focus on his question. "No," you admitted softly, shifting your hips to search for some relief from him.

Miguel hummed in mock disappointment, and his hands wandered up from your breasts to lift your arms up over your head. With one hand, he pinned your wrists to the pillow, and you suddenly remembered what he was talking about. I'll get you for this. You also remembered what he had said another time. Payback would be tying you up nice and pretty for me.

Your heart sped up as you realized it was finally time for you to face the music. Miguel saw the realization dawn on your face. "I think you remember," he murmured smugly. You took a shaky breath before nodding slowly. There was a sly grin that grew on Miguel's face.

With one hand still pinning your wrists to the bed, he kissed you. When he broke away from your lips, he whispered, "You know what I'm gonna do, don't you?" Eyes blinking open, you nodded your head without a word. Miguel's eyes danced with lustful intentions, and he continued, "And you're going to let me do it, aren't you?"

One of your eyebrows raised skeptically at him. "I don't really have a choice, do I?" You countered. An amused smirk grew on his lips as he stared down at you. "No," he answered. "No, you don't."

With that, he shot a web at his headboard and slowly, meticulously, he bound your wrists together, leaving you with about a foot of webbing between them and the headboard. You gave an experimental tug on the webbing that restricted your hands and found that he had securely tied your hands, leaving no room for them to pull or move. Your heart was pounding with the thrill of being completely at his mercy. You didn't think Miguel would actually hurt you, but the endless possibilities of things he could do to you made your breathing quicken.

When he was satisfied with his rigging, he leaned back to admire the sight of your body with your hands stretched above your head. "You look even prettier than I imagined like this," he muttered with a self-satisfied smirk. His words made your face glow with a faint blush, and you thought of something to say that would distract you from the warmth you felt at his praise.

"Aww, you think of me when I'm not around?" You asked in an overly-sweet tone, looking up at him through your lashes. Miguel's eyes darkened with desire, and he let out an amused huff. "I think of all the things I could do to shut you up," he said, sitting up and stepping off the bed. Your eyes followed him as he crossed the room.

"Or all the things I could do to make you scream," he continued casually, approaching a door you assumed was his closet. "Or make you beg." He opened the door, and though you strained to see, the door blocked your view from what was inside.

When he finally closed the door, you noticed the silk tie in his hands. You wondered for a split second what it was for, but as he walked back toward you, it suddenly became clear. Crawling back onto the bed, Miguel gave you one final, smug look before gently placing the tie over your eyes and tying it securely behind your head.

"So many things to do," he mused quietly in your ear. "But I think we'll start here." He placed a brief kiss on your lips before slowly trailing down your body. You shivered at his touch, and being deprived of your sight made every kiss feel electric. Reaching for your breasts, he took one in his mouth, running his tongue over your nipple while his hands squeezed your tender skin greedily.

"Fuck," you whispered softly. Your back was arching off the mattress to press into his hands and mouth. His mouth moved lower to your stomach until he reached your underwear. He slowly removed the fabric from your waist, placing kisses down the inside of your thighs as he moved it down your legs. You groaned softly, shifting your legs to try and capture his head and failing. You wanted more of him. You needed more of him.

Just when you thought he was going to move back up to continue feeling your body, you felt his weight lift off the mattress. Your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to determine what he was doing. Without your sight, you focused heavily on any sounds you could pick up, but Miguel was frustratingly quiet. 

"I hope you're not planning on just leaving me here," you commented, desperate to break your anxious silence. Your little quip earned you a small huff, and you determined he was somewhere on the other side of the apartment. You also heard the sound of something opening, and you knew he was retrieving things, but you couldn't figure out what it was.

You wished your premonitory senses would activate to warn you about what he was doing, but your body seemed to know you weren't in any actual danger, so you were left to guess. Your heart leapt as you felt the mattress sag back down with his weight again. He wasn't touching you, but you could feel that he was kneeling next to you.

"Why would I leave you here?" He wondered thoughtfully, and you could hear the undercurrent of lust in his tone. "I have you right where I want you, and you're not leaving until I'm done with you." You shifted on the bed, eagerly anticipating when he was going to touch you again. To break the tension that settled between you, you joked, "Careful O'Hara, your mouth is writing checks your body better be able—"

You cut yourself off with a sharp gasp when you felt something painfully cold press against your nipples. You strained against your bindings to escape the freezing sensation, and after a few seconds, you felt the cold trail in small circles around your breasts before disappearing again, leaving you gasping.

Feeling the wet chill on your skin, you realized Miguel was using ice. "What were you saying?" He asked smugly as you recovered from the cold. You wanted to say something snappy, but you were at a loss for witty words. "Nothing?" He questioned and blew gently against your wet skin, causing you to shudder. Before you could answer him, the cold returned to your nipples, and you thrashed with a loud groan.

Miguel kept the ice against your skin even longer before lifting them off again. This time, he ran his tongue over one of your hardened nipples, and you groaned again at the feeling of his warm mouth against your cold skin. "What pretty noises," he murmured when he moved to your other breast. Your chest was heaving, and your skin was covered in goosebumps from both the ice and his touch.

After a few moments, Miguel lifted himself up off your body. Your hearing was strained as you tried to discern what he was going to do next, but Miguel didn't seem so interested in talking anymore. You tried shifting your legs to subtly feel for him, but he wasn't within reach of you.

Just when you were beginning to wonder where he was, a cube of ice was placed onto your chest just below your throat. Your breath trembled as it slowly melted down your skin, between your breasts, and toward your navel. You jumped when you felt Miguel's cool hands on your thighs, and he slowly wrapped his arms around them.

He had done that enough times for you to know what he was going to do next. Your pussy ached for his mouth while your stomach was tensing with the cold trail of the ice. Miguel placed a few light kisses to your thighs before his lips finally moved to where you wanted them.

You cried in alarm when you realized that Miguel had a small piece of ice on his tongue, and with his mouth vigorously eating you out and his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, you had no escape from the freezing temperature against your clit. "Mmm, fuck!" You cried out as your body writhed in an effort to escape the cold pressing against your hot entrance.

The extreme cold was deliciously torturous as the ice melted against your pussy and his mouth. When the ice disappeared, Miguel continued eating you out fervently, and you were vaguely aware of the feeling of his webbing digging into your straining wrists. Your startled cries evolved into moans as warmth returned to his mouth and your clit, and his tongue was moving expertly in a way that was making your thighs twitch under his strong hands.

"Oh god, Miguel," you gasped, feeling a tightness form in your core that made you desperate for your release. Miguel moaned against you, the deep bass of his voice sending vibrations against your clit. You wanted nothing more that to wrap your legs around his head and run your fingers through his hair, but the webs at your wrists were still restricting you as well as his strong arms around your thighs.

You breathing turned into panting whines, and you were about to cum when Miguel lifted his mouth off of you. A desperate groan tore from your throat as you tried fighting against his hands to capture his head with your legs to no avail.

"Not yet, cariño," he murmured, sounding slightly winded. "I still have more for you." You could hear the smile that you were sure he was wearing while his body lifted up off the bed. You squeezed your legs together in an effort to give yourself some relief, but it was pointless. Nothing you did could replicate the feeling of his tongue.

Again, you focused hard on trying to figure out where Miguel was and what he was doing. "Are you trying to hide from me?" You asked in hopes of figuring out where he was. You were surprised to hear his amused chuckle right beside you. "I'm not hiding," he told you. "But I love watching you try to find me. You get so restless waiting for me."

Your skin jumped as he brushed his fingers across your stomach, and you could all but see the smug look on his face. "You have no idea what I could do to you," he continued quietly, and you gasped softly when you felt the sharp point of one of his claws trace over your tender skin. He let his claw wander up your stomach all the way to the hollow of your throat before pulling away again.

Your chest was heaving in anticipation for what he would do next. The throbbing between your legs was almost painful, and you were desperate for him to touch you again. You tried pulling your hands down again in vain and felt frustration course through your body at not being able to move.

Just when your anticipation was getting to be too much for you, Miguel came back onto the bed. You could feel his weight settled between your legs, and when you shifted them, you were pleased to feel his thighs between your own. Your lips were parted as you waited for him, your breathing quickened.

A warm, almost hot, liquid poured over your stomach, causing your back to arch and a gasping moan to emerge from your mouth. The heat contrasted so sharply with the chill of the ice that had melted on your skin that it made your body shiver involuntarily. Miguel chuckled darkly at your reaction, pouring more of the hot liquid over your nipples, causing another moan to escape your throat.

The heat felt good once the initial shock subsided, and so when it started to drip down your stomach and off your sides, you sighed in satisfaction. Miguel took a hand and ran it across your body, spreading the oily substance all across your torso. You pushed your body into his hand to encourage him. His other hand also started rubbing the oil across your skin, slowly digging his fingers into the tissue around your hips, up your sides, to your breasts, and around your shoulders.

You moaned at how good it all felt. Being Spider-woman was definitely a harsh and physically demanding job, and you were almost always in some type of pain as a result of it. Your muscles were always tight and your skin always bruised. Now, laying there while Miguel slowly massaged your body with warm oil, you felt like you had died and gone to heaven.

"What did I do to deserve this?" You wondered softly. Miguel hummed in response. "Do you like this?" He asked quietly, his voice soft and deep. You nodded, your voice useless as his fingers reached under your back and massaged the muscles there.

Every movement was slow and intentional, and in that moment, you could've convinced yourself that this was more than just fucking, more than just losing a bet. You wanted to believe that so badly, but that was dangerous thinking. Still, when he kissed your neck while massaging your back with warm oil, you let yourself savor the intimacy of it all.

His hands moved down to your hips and then to your ass, his fingers digging deep into the muscle. You sighed deeply as you lifted your thighs to encourage him. He ran his hands down the outside of your thighs and back up again on the inside. Your breath shuddered as he slowly pushed your legs up, and you wrapped them around his waist, desperate for him to be inside you. "I know, babygirl," he chuckled. "Not yet."

You groaned in frustration. The ache you had for him was almost painful. "Please," you whimpered softly, the desire to feel him stretch you out making you desperate. Miguel hummed thoughtfully, his hands roaming over the skin of your thighs. "I do like it when you say please," he conceded. "Say it again."

You sighed in exasperation. Of course he was going to drag this out. You squeezed your legs around him tighter to bring him closer, and a thrill ran through your body when you felt the head of his cock at your entrance, making you groan in anticipation.

A sharp sting on your ass startled you and made you yelp in surprise. It took a second for you to realize that he had actually spanked you. It sounded more painful that it was, but being deprived of your sight meant that your sense of touch was heightened, and you definitely hadn't expected him to do that.

"I told you not yet," he chastised you sternly. "Now, say it again." Your heart was hammering in your heaving chest. "P-please," you stuttered, trying to think straight. You wished you could see his face or feel his body. It was driving you crazy letting him tease you like this.

"Much better," Miguel murmured softly, rubbing his hand over the spot he had smacked. He teased his length against your hot entrance, causing your breath to hitch and your legs to tighten around him. Seeing your reaction, he moved away again, and you groaned, pressing your head back into your pillow in frustration.

"You're so needy," he said. "Why should I give it to you?" You shifted restlessly under him. Why was he torturing you like this? "Please," you repeated, trying your best to hide the desperation in your voice, "I need you to fuck me."

Miguel hummed in an almost disinterested manner. Clearly, he wanted to hear more. "Because you're the only one who can do it right," you answered breathlessly, raising your leg to brush against the side of his body. "You're the only one I want, Miguel, so please, fuck me." Miguel cursed under his breath. You knew hearing his name would soften his resolve, and you bit your lip in anticipation for what he would do next.

When you felt him tease the head of his cock against your entrance, you sighed softly and had to fight the urge to try pulling him in with your legs again. Instead, you waited with baited breath for him to push into you. As you waited, scarcely allowing yourself to breathe, the mattress sagged down around you as you felt Miguel lean over and hover inches above your body.

"Breathe, baby," he purred in your ear, smugness evident in his voice. The way he spoke was sinful, and you struggled to listen to his instruction. With effort, you managed to take a deep, shaky breath. Miguel placed a gentle kiss under your jaw and murmured, "There's my good girl."

With your second breath, he pushed into you. The air caught in your throat at the feeling of him stretching you out. How did he feel so good every time? Your head pushed back against the mattress as his hips came flush against yours. Your pussy caused Miguel to groan softly, too. "You always take me so well," he commented smugly.

His thrust were slow, tantalizingly slow, and you strained against your bindings as your arms instinctively longed to wrap themselves around his shoulders. "Mmm, shit," you moaned. "You feel so good." Your words made him increase his pace marginally, but it was clear that he was holding back.

You could tell that he had one hand planted next to your body to support himself while the other wandered down between your breasts to your stomach. "Do you feel me here?" He asked as his hand gently pressed down on your lower stomach, right above where his cock was moving in and out of you.

Pornographic sounds poured from your lips from the pressure he was placing. His hand was pressing down against your G-spot from outside your body, and as he moved his hand in small circles, the pleasure it brought you made your hands strain against their binding.

Miguel, too, was enjoying the pressure he added. He was grunting quietly at the feeling of your pussy squeezed around him, and it wasn't long before he picked up the pace and began moving in you at a quickened tempo. His hand came off your stomach as he started thrusting into you faster, and instead, he wrapped his strong arm under your lower back, forcing your body to arch off the bed.

A long whine rose up from your mouth as he railed into you. He was holding you at an angle that made his dick hit just right inside you. You couldn't even breathe properly from the blissful feeling his cock deep inside you. Under your blindfold, your eyes were rolling back into your head, and your legs spread even further apart to allow him to completely bury himself in you.

Your name was falling from Miguel's lips in between quiet curses. Evidently, he was enjoying himself as much as you were, and you could feel how his whole body was consumed with pleasure above you. Having to rely primarily on your hearing for clues, you were more than pleased by the grunts and moans he was making.

With your back still arched from Miguel's arm, it wasn't long before you felt the tightness in your stomach start to form again. Your thighs started to quiver, and your breathing became ragged as you prepared to be overtaken with pleasure, but just when you were reaching your tipping point, Miguel pulled completely out of you.

You let out a loud, frustrated groan at the loss of his cock inside you. Denying you of your orgasm again felt cruel, and you squeezed your thighs together to try and give yourself some relief as you had before to no avail. "Please, Miguel," you whined, begged. "Don't stop."

You felt the weight of the bed shift around you as he moved back. "Not yet, babygirl," he told you, sounding out of breath. You wondered if he had been close to finishing, too, but before you could ponder any further, Miguel's hands wrapped around your hips and flipped you over like you weighed nothing.

With a gasp, you found yourself lying on your stomach. You understood now why he had tied your wrists the way he had. With the length of webbing between your hands and the headboard, you were able to turn over and support yourself on your knees and elbows without any uncomfortable twisting. Now, you were positioned on your stomach, and Miguel's commanding hands propped you up on your knees with your ass up to him.

You felt his hand glide across your back, his palm still slick with oil. "I've been wanting to see you like this for a long time now," Miguel commented under his breath. "You look so fucking perfect on your knees." You let out a short huff at his words. "Are you just going to stare, or are you going to do something about it?" You asked impatiently, still frustrated at being denied your pleasure.

A sharp pain stung your ass as he slapped you in punishment, forcing a gasp from you. "Watch your tone," he told you in a warning voice. You took a shaky breath before nodding submissively. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest in reaction to him spanking you as well as in anticipation of what he may do next.

Juxtaposing the pain he had just inflicted, Miguel placed slow, deliberate kisses up your back starting from the base of your spine. You moaned softly as his lips trailed up your body, seeming to press a kiss over each vertebra. As his mouth moved up your back, his hands roamed up the sides of your body, gripping at your soft skin.

Your breath hitched as each kiss served as a countdown to him being back inside you. His lips wandered up between your shoulders to your neck as his hands gripped your breasts under you. At that point, you were so desperate for him that you arched your back and pushed your ass back toward his hips with a quiet groan.

"Use your words," he prompted in a low voice, and his lips tickled your ear as he whispered to you. You whimpered softly before replying, "More." You could feel how his whole body was hunched over yours, and you could only imagine how his muscular torso looked as it enveloped your frame.

"Mmm, you can do better than that," he stated, and he nipped at your earlobe while teasing his cock against you. You whined and tugged at your bindings again, wishing for the millionth time that you could move freely. "Please, Miguel," you groaned, "I need you to fuck me."

You had almost expected him to drag it out like he had done so many times before, but perhaps hearing you say his name satisfied him, or perhaps he was just as eager to continue what he had so abruptly interrupted. Either way, he didn't require any more begs and pleads before slamming his cock deep into you.

Cries of pleasure tore from your throat as Miguel began pounding into you mercilessly. Your salacious sounds intermingled with the wet smacking of his hips against your ass as he thrust in and out, over and over, into your aching cunt. Miguel growled at the sensation of repeatedly burying his length inside you, and you could hear him grunting under his breath, "Fuck, just like that."

You buried your face in the bedding under you to muffle all the sounds you were making. Arching your back, you pushed your ass up as far as you could, and the feeling of him railing you like that overtook any coherent thought you may have had. You felt Miguel's oily hands grabbing at your waist harshly as he tried keeping a grip on your body.

Suddenly, you felt his claws dig into your hips sharply. You gasped and clenched your teeth at the painful sensation. It was different from his fangs, which still had some degree of pain. This was pain in the most sensitive parts of your waist adjacent to your stomach, and it outweighed the pleasure you were feeling instead of enhancing it.

You hissed sharply in reaction. For a moment, you struggled to remember what he had told you at the beginning. Finally, you uttered, "Line," so quietly that you wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't heard you, but he did.

Immediately, you felt the sharp sting of his claws retract from your torso, and he grew still before pulling out of you. "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, and you could hear the notes of concern in his voice. His hands rubbed up your back gently, and you nodded, trying to regain your breath to explain. "It just hurt a little more than I like," you admitted finally.

Gently, he turned you over onto your back again to assess you while his fingers lightly massaged your waist where he had pricked your skin. He placed his lips against your stomach and murmured, "I didn't mean to. You just feel so good." He placed another kiss to your skin before saying, "We can stop."

You quickly shook your head. "No, don't stop," you rushed. "Just...no claws." His fingers continued massaging over the scratches on your skin. "I won't," he promised. "I'm going to make you feel good."

His kisses trailed down slowly from your stomach, and your breath hitched as his lips traced over your sensitive skin. As he kissed you, he inserted 3 fingers into you, earning a soft moan. He moved slowly at first, working to rebuild your trust in him by curling his fingers inside you with a deliberate slowness. As more moans sounded in your throat, he increased the speed of his fingers and lowered his mouth down right above them.

All the echos of pain from his claws were banished by the pleasure his tongue brought you as it lapped at your swollen clit. Your whole body tensed as his hands and mouth worked together in an apology that spoke louder than any combination of words he could say. He told you he was going to make you feel good, and he was clearly telling the truth.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped as your hips moved of their own accord to increase the pressure of his mouth. You wished desperately that you could see him, see how his dark eyes were looking up at you lustfully, see how his muscles were flexing as he moved his fingers in and out of you rapidly. Instead, you had to rely on a combination of your memory and your imagination to recreate the image.

As you started to grow closer to finishing, you tried to suppress any indication that you were about to cum so that Miguel wouldn't keep denying it to you. You tried swallowing your noises, but you couldn't help the way your breathing started to come in short gasps as you felt the familiar tightness forming.

Sure enough, when Miguel heard your tell-tale panting, his fingers stopped moving, and he lifted his mouth off of you. A long, frustrated whine tore from your throat as he pulled his fingers out of you. "I know, love," he murmured, sounding out of breath. "Wait for me."

The mattress shifted as he moved himself up, and before you could make another complaint about his teasing, he pushed his cock back into you. Your whines turned to moans as he started moving inside you, and he snaked his arm under your lower back again and lifted your torso into an arch. He pounded away into you, and at that angle, his length hit your G-spot every time.

You couldn't speak as all the air had been snatched from your lungs. The best you could do was make quiet, strangled moans as pleasure overtook every other feeling in your body. Though your eyes were still blindfolded, you were seeing stars, and above you, you could hear the grunts that Miguel made with every thrust.

With the angle he was holding you at, it wasn't long before that tightness returned. Your thighs started to quiver as your breathing grew shallow again. "Don't stop," you pleaded desperately between ragged breaths. He didn't respond, but he also didn't stop. His own breaths came in quick pants, and you heard the sound of splintering wood above your head which you realized was his claws digging into the headboard.

Finally, you hit your breaking point. All of Miguel's edging paid off because your legs began shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. You were practically screaming as you came hard around him, every nerve in your body ablaze with ecstasy. The intensity of what you were feeling was indescribable. You couldn't even feel how the bindings around your wrists were cutting into your skin as you writhed under him; there was only complete and utter pleasure.

Miguel groaned loudly at how you tightened around his cock, and with a few more quick, desperate thrusts, he was gasping your name as he came inside you. Your quivering legs wrapped tightly around his torso as you continued riding your high while his muscles tensed in pleasure. Together, your bodies were both shuddering, and your minds were both clouded with overwhelming bliss.

As the haze of your orgasm finally began to lift, you registered the sounds of your heavy breathing along with Miguel's. There was also the sound of more splintering wood as he withdrew his claws from the headboard above you. His head rested on your shoulder as he recovered from his high, his hot breath fanning against your skin. Your legs fell away from his waist as your body went limp. Neither of you moved for a few moments as you took them to remember how to speak again.

Finally, with a short grunt, Miguel pulled out of you, earning a quiet whine from you. You felt empty without him, and as he pushed himself off your body, you felt exposed, unprotected. You hated it.

To your tremendous relief, however, he cut away the bindings around your wrists and lifted the blindfold from your eyes. Your arms ached from all the times you tried pulling them down, and you groaned softly as you brought them down to your sides. Blinking your eyes opened, the scene around you looked blurry, but you could still make out Miguel's face hovering above you, some of his hair dangling over his dark eyes fixed intently on you.

You raised up one of your newly liberated hands to cup his cheek as you tried forcing your eyes to focus. He placed his hand over yours and pressed a soft kiss to your palm. "How do you feel?" He asked finally, breaking the long stretch of silence between you. He sounded exactly how you felt—spent.

You couldn't answer him; the ability to form words hadn't fully return to you. Instead, you pulled his face down to yours and kissed him like it was the last time you could ever do it. His hand left yours to slide under your back and pull you closer as he kissed you with as much passion as you gave. Your arms were finally able to do what they had longed to do the whole time and wrapped themselves around his neck to hold him close.

You didn't want it to end, didn't want to pull away from him. This was more than just lust, at least it was for you. If he had asked you to stay with him in that bed forever, you weren't sure you would say no. It was a dangerous temptation.

After a moment, Miguel broke away from your lips. "Are you feeling alright?" He asked softly. You nodded your head, still not ready to use your voice. "Was it too much?" He questioned, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort. You shook your head mutely, and his lips started to quirk upward at your silence.

"Can you use words?" He asked in amusement. Your lips pulled up to mirror his smirk, and you shook your head in reply. "That good?" He surmised with no small amount of pride. You rolled your eyes before nodding at him. In all honesty, it was the best you'd ever had. He was the best you'd ever had.

Your hand dropped from his face to rest on your stomach as you sighed deeply with closed eyes. Your body still hummed with the aftermath of your high, and you felt you didn't have the energy to do anything except lay there with him.

Miguel glanced down at your hand and carefully lifted it off your body to inspect it. Around your wrist were angry red markings from when you had fought against your bindings. They didn't even hurt really, but they didn't look pretty either.

"I'm sorry about this," he murmured softly as he traced his fingers over the skin of your wrists. You looked up at his face and realized that this was the first time you had ever heard him apologize about anything, and by his gentle voice and concerned face, you knew he was being sincere.

His eyes moved away from your hands to look at you, and you offered him a soft smile. "Payback," you whispered, finally breaking your own muteness. Your comment seemed to assuage the concern he had for accidentally hurting you, and a subtle smile formed on his lips. "Payback," he agreed.

You held his gaze for a moment, relishing the way his face softened at you. There was a sheen of sweat on his skin that gleamed in the dim light of his room. Neither of you said anything, you simply admired each other in silence while your bodies were still humming with pleasure.

"We should get cleaned up," he murmured finally. You closed your eyes with a quiet groan. "I don't want to move," you told him with a sigh. He smirked down at you before sitting up. "Come on," he said quietly as he moved his arms under your body.

You giggled as he picked you up and carried you out of bed the same way he took you to it. His skin was warm, and when you leaned your head against his chest, you could hear his steady heartbeat in his chest.

He carried you like that into his bathroom before setting you down in front of the shower. It was extremely spacious with the shower head placed high above you. He turned on the water, and after a few moments, steam began filling the air, and you stepped under it together.

Neither of you spoke a word the whole time. You were still reeling from everything he had done to you, and Miguel didn't seem to mind the silence. There was something intimate about the two of you together, completely exposed for each other and yet not engaging in anything sexual.

Miguel had wordlessly offered you a wash cloth that you were now using to lather soap onto your body. As you washed away all the evidence of your activities together, you were replaying what just happened in your mind. Babygirl, cariño, love—all those nicknames he gave you in the heat of the moment echoed in your head. Did he ever mean them? Or did he just get swept away in all the sweat and hormones and say them?

You watched as he let the water run over his head, and you noticed all the scars that scattered across his back. It took all your willpower not to trace your fingers across his muscular shoulders. You loved seeing him with his guard down, and as he wiped away the water from face, you were reminded that he wasn't some untouchable deity like some of the other Spiders thought; he was just a man.

You weren't sure how long you were in there before Miguel finally turned the water off. You stood and waited while he retrieved two towels for you both. He ran his over his hair before tying it around his waist. Then, he came over and wrapped your towel around your body.

You were about to make a quiet joke about how you could do it yourself, but as he covered your body with the towel, he kept his arms wrapped around your form, his body engulfing yours as he pulled you against his chest. He held you like that for a few seconds, and the idea of you speaking in a moment like that felt irreverent.

Finally, he broke the silence between you by whispering, "You're staying here tonight?" It seemed like less of a question than an assumption, and you wondered if you had only imagined the hopeful tone in his voice. Wordlessly, you nodded. Of course you would stay the night. You would stay every night if you could.

He pulled away from your body after another second, allowing you to secure your towel around your torso. He left you alone in the bathroom as you continued drying yourself off, and when you came back out to his room, you found him under the covers with his eyes closed. You thought he was asleep for a moment, but as you approached the bed, his eyes blinked open to look at you.

Letting your towel fall away, you crawled into bed with him. Without a word, you gave Miguel a long, slow kiss before settling down next to him. Almost as soon as your head hit the pillow, you realized just how exhausted you were by your excursions together, and you felt yourself drifting off in no time.

You were brought back to consciousness when you heard him whisper your name. "Hmm?" You replied lazily, unsure of whether or not you imagined it in your dozing. Your eyes were still closed as you heard him sigh.

"You can come on the mission."

You were definitely imagining things now. Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, and you found him looking at your face expectantly. "What?" You questioned, unable to process what he had said.

"You can come on the mission with me," he repeated softly. You lifted your head up off the pillow as you understood what he was telling you. "But—but I lost the bet," you told him. His lips bore a faint smile at your reaction. "I told myself if you could make it to sundown, I'd let you come," he explained.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. The complete surprise you felt at him completely eclipsed any sort of joy you would feel at being able to go on the mission. Finally, you asked, "Why?" He didn't respond for a moment, but when he did, he said, "You were right. You are one of the best."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Not only had Miguel O'Hara changed his mind, but he had admitted that you were right about something. Never in a million years would you have thought that even one of those statements would be true, let alone both.

"Don't get too excited," he warned, noticing your reaction to his words. "After this, no more missions with me. This is just the exception." A smile slowly grew on your face, the idea finally settling into your mind that you got to be on the coveted team to bring down the anomaly. "Because you need me," you asserted playfully.

Miguel rolled his eyes at you. "Don't push it," he grumbled, making you chuckle. "Okay, fine," you replied as you laid your head back down on the pillow, and after a beat of silence, you added with all the sincerity you possessed, "Thank you." You both stared at each other wordlessly for a moment until he said gently, "You're welcome."

With that, you closed your eyes again and let sleep finally overcome your body.

[kenny-the-ken]

Stoned to the Bone

Just before I start I wanted to write a little disclaimer, in this fic everyone is aged up, they are all 18 and this fic is not suitable for minors!! There are mentions of drugs, alcohol, smut, sexual content, swearing and a lot of innuendos. Also this is my first fic so please be nice ☺️

You sat in the dingy upstairs apartment that you lived in with your boyfriend Kenny. You two had been together from fourth grade and you couldn't imagine your life without your orange parka clad boyfriend with his cute fluffy blonde hair that you loved running your hands through. He'd been out for quite a while now trying to score you guys some MDMA for your house warming party. Everyone that was anyone at South Park High was invited.

Y/N: Kenny, where are you?! Xx

Kenny🧡: Omw now, plug took his sweet ass time. Pour me a drink for coming home, and make sure it's got an extra measure in it! Also, got an ounce of weed, can't wait to smoke up next to you tonight 😉 xx

Y/N: You really do know how to make a girl feel special, huh? I'll see you soon, be safe and remember, if those blue lights appear, never fear, just drop a gear and disappear xx

Kenny🧡: I'm right around the corner babe, don't worry, cops have never caught me this far, I doubt they will now xx

You knew better than to reply to him, he was a quick walker and knew plenty of shortcuts. You both still lived in the shittier part of town, the rent was cheap enough for you both to afford, even if you did both work awful, barely meeting minimum wage jobs.

You heard the door clicking open and then shut, the noise of someone walking up the stairs, and there he was, hood up, a shit eating grin on his face. "Who's ready to get fucked up~?" He sang through the house, before entering the living room and spotting you standing in the adjoining kitchen, pouring him a large glass of vodka and coke, although it may as well have just been vodka. You had one poured for yourself and two shots of tequila lined up for both of you. "Tell me Ken, in all the years we've known each other, when am I not ready to get fucked up?" You answered him, handing him his drink as he sauntered into the kitchen, taking the glass from you and giving you a quick kiss on the head.

"He said this MDMA was top notch shit, straight from Europe! The ounce is Super Silver Haze, so we are set for at least a few days darling." Kenny said, his voice muffled due to his hood still covering most of his face. You smiled at him, even when only his blue eyes were visible, he was the most beautiful guy you'd ever laid eyes on, you swore you got lost in his eyes back in fourth grade and you still haven't escaped the maze yet, not that you were complaining.

"Take your coat off, babe, we can afford heating now!" You said, taking a sip from your own glass and shuddering, vodka did not taste good, but it got you fucked up and that's all that mattered. "If you want me to strip for you babe, you gotta return the favour." Kenny laughed out, unzipping his parka and taking his gloves off. Out of his pocket he pulled a baggy, a rock of pure MDMA sitting in it as he placed it on the kitchen counter. From his larger inside pocket he pulled out the aforementioned ounce of cannabis and sat it down beside the baggy. "Fancy a quick bump to start us off?" He asked, taking out his wallet and a bank card from it, starting to crush the rock inside of the baggy. "Is that even a question?" You winked towards him, coming closer to watch his skilful hands at work. You guys have done anything and everything together, you trip sat each other and knew how most drugs affected you, because let's face it, you guys have tried most. When the rock was finally a fine, yellowish looking powder you could feel the excitement building within you, and Kenny noticed. "Babe, I know you're excited but I'm taking the first hit, if I die from it you know I'll be back tomorrow morning anyway, you on the other hand, that doesn't happen to." He stated, and you knew it was true. He always took the first hit of anything you guys scored, he just wanted you to be safe. You smiled warmly at him. "I love you." You muttered softly, giving him a small kiss on the lips. "I love you too, sugar tits." He smirked before pulling out the key to your shared apartment and placing it into the baggy. He scooped up and balanced a small amount of the powder upon it and placed it to his nose, covering his other nostril and snorting the substance in one go. He then placed the key on the counter, sniffing a few times and then made a face like he was going to be to be sick. "Kenny, what's wrong?!" You asked, hurriedly holding his face as you stared at him. "I'm fine, just that drip, man! That is nasty!" He said, gagging slightly. And he wasn't wrong, you took a quick bump yourself and found that you were soon after gulping down your vodka and coke to try and rid the taste that was emanating at the back of your throat. You noticed Kenny was staring at your tits in the low cut top you wore, your skinny black jeans hugging your figure, and boy could he not tear his eyes away from you. "Like what you see?" You teased, a small smirk on his face. "Y/N, my eyes have been glued to you since fourth grade, of course I like what I see." He joked back, and you knew it was true. You were the only two impoverished kids in school, you basically grew up together. You remembered when Kenny used to steal pads and tampons from the local pharmacy for you when you got your period, and how you used to swipe whatever food you could get away with from the grocery store, you both raised each other. You realised you were fading in and out of reality, the drug starting to take effect. Kenny's pupils were large and round, and you soon found yourself cupping his face with both hands and gazing dreamily into his eyes, a small blush dusting his cheeks. "What's wrong, babe? Love buzz getting to you already?" Kenny flirted, wrapping his long, slender arms around your waist, picking you up and setting your ass on the cold countertop. "I don't know babe, I always feel this in love with you so it's hard to tell." You said, your pupils large too. You felt Kenny bring his lips to yours, biting your bottom lip cheekily, and as a small gasped escaped from you, he quickly slid his tongue into your mouth, a small moan coming from both of you as you both passionately made out. Time stood still till you heard a car pulling up, parking and all four doors slamming.

A knock could be heard at the door and you both already knew it was your friends. You could already hear Eric and Kyle bickering outside and Stan sighing. "Hey, Kenny! Get your dick in your pants and open the door!" Stan shouted through the letterbox as you both reluctantly parted your lips from one another. "You better believe I'm taking that ass straight away as soon as they're either gone, or we're in bed!" Kenny said, a small huff of annoyance at having to wait, and at having to try and conceal his already pre cum leaking cock in his tight jeans. He ran downstairs, opening the door and bowing playfully. "Welcome to my Playboy mansion." He joked, stepping aside to let the guys in.

Your apartment was nothing special, it was still decorated how the previous tenants had it, pale grey walls in the living room with black and silver wallpaper, the kitchen was red with white tiles going round it, and the bathroom was blue with a shower in the corner. Your bedroom was the only place you both could afford to decorate yet, and that was for yours and Kenny's eyes only!

"Sweet apartment guys!" Kyle said, waving to you as you added four more shot glasses to the worktop, filling them with tequila and bringing them out, along with the two you and Kenny had forgotten about. "Here's to best friends, amazing relationships, freedom and getting fucked up guys!" You exclaimed as everyone took a shot glass. "Cheers!" You all said in unison, throwing your heads back to take the shots. You all grimaced at the potent taste and the burning sensation in your throats.

Time felt like an enigma, more people arrived, Wendy, Bebe, Clyde, Craig, Tweak, Butters and more that you weren't even aware were coming. Kenny was in the kitchen chatting with Kyle and Stan about some video game while rolling a blunt. You wandered in, looking at your boyfriend with a smile. He winked at you and patted the countertop, signalling for you to sit beside him. You hopped up as Kyle and Stan took a seat at the table. You could hear Eric laughing at some poor, unfortunate girl in the living room, and you gave your boyfriend that knowing look, like a secret language between you both. He handed the half rolled blunt to you. "You're so good with your hands, think you could finish rolling that for me, baby while I rack us a line each?" He cooed, biting down on his lower lip just to tease you. "You read my mind." You said softly. Kenny hopped off the counter and to the opposite side of the kitchen, his back to you three. "What are you guys on this time?" Stan asked, he didn't particularly like weed, his dad had ruined that for him long ago, but it didn't mean he wasn't fascinated in trying other drugs. Kyle wasn't too sure how to feel, it goes completely against his religion to do any of this, but you're only young once, right? "Purest MDMA in South Park!" Kenny exclaimed. "Straight from Europe, you guys want some?" He asked, turned to face you three, bank card in hand, and two skinny, long lines already racked up for you both. "You know what, I'll do it if you do it, Kyle!" Stan declared, feeling butterflies in his stomach, his nerves always got the better of him. "Yeah, fuck it! It's been a shit week and it's Saturday! Let's make the end of this week amazing!" He said, both boys high giving each other, then turning to fist bump Kenny. He racked two more lines for Stan and Kyle and turned once again to face you all, making deep eye contact with you as you stick your tongue out to like the skin you were rolling the blunt in, sending him a flirty wink, which he gladly smirked back at. "Damn girl, you really gonna tease me like that?" He flirted back, a smile on his face.

Rolling up a bank note he placed it up his nose, snorting the line he prepared for himself. He sniffed again a few times after, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. "Who's next?" He said, holding up the bank note. "I'll go!" Said Kyle, doing the same thing Kenny did and then coughing slightly afterwards. "It tastes like shit, man!" He shouted, downing whatever drink he had in front of him. "Yeah dude, that's the drip!" You said, laughing slightly before taking the bank note yourself and sniffing the powder in one swift motion. You passed the note to Stan who nervously did the same and reacted almost the same as Kyle. "Just stay away from Wendy for a few minutes dude, the drip makes you wanna throw up and you do that when you're completely sober around her!" Kenny said, laughing slightly before picking you up and spinning your round, his hands wrapped tightly around your waist, your thighs coming up to his sides. "You look so fucking hot right now." He said, kissing you gently before pulling away to stare at you once more. Your cheeks were flushed, a mixture of what Kenny had just said and done and the drugs and alcohol you had taken. He carried you into the living room, Stan and Kyle quickly following, Kenny placed you on the sofa and quickly connected to the speaker, handing you a lighter to spark up your blunt with, you inhaled the thick smoke and exhaled it with a long sigh, you hadn't felt this amazing since the last time you two did MDMA together, and that was one messy night.

The four of you sat and chatted, taking a few bumps here and there while you all smoked the blunt in rotation. It was as if the rest of the party didn't matter. Other people were taking their own drugs, people on ketamine, ecstacy, and god knows what else, it was South Park after all. And they knew you and Kenny didn't give a fuck.

Before you knew it you had finished the entire baggy between the four of you, the party heating up as the place was packed with people. Outside was dark and the street lamps shone brightly. "Hey guys, a new nightclub has opened down the street, it's supposed to be amazing! Wanna go?" Eric shouted loudly over the music. Everyone stared at him, mulling the words over in their fucked up minds. "Fuck yeah! Why not?!" Kenny shouted, turning off the music. "I could dance, let's go guys!"

The walk felt like a blur, you don't even remember how you got there, just how soft Kenny's hand felt in yours as you walked together down the street. The nightclub luckily let you all in without ID, and surprisingly didn't think any of you were on anything. When inside the place was huge, hundreds of people on the dance floor, flashing lights and loud techno music filled the air, this night was turning out to be one to remember. Stan was finally talking to Wendy with enough confidence in his fucked up, MDMA filled brain without throwing up on her, result! Kyle was chatting to some random girl in the corner of the dance floor when you and Kenny heard one of your favourite songs come on, you knew it was a sign from the gods above as the song blasted loudly through the speakers. He took your hand in his, his fluffy blonde hair reflecting the flashing lights in the club, you swore he looked like angel sent from above as he gripped your waist tightly almost scared to lose you as you both started dancing, first giggling and playing around and soon enough grinding against each other needing some sort of contact through the buzz you guys were feeling. Fuck, this felt unreal.

"Kenny." You moaned loudly enough for him to hear. "You like that baby?" He asked, pushing his hard cock against you a bit harder. "And what if I do this?" He whispered into your ear, a long stripe licking up the front of your throat, before his mouth attached to the side of your neck, licking, biting and sucking on the skin that was sensitive when sober, so this felt like you could touch the stars. The song had changed and you still both remained on the dance floor, practically eye fucking each other, hands roaming everywhere, anywhere, just to get some sort of friction.

"Fancy a bump of coke?" He whispered to you, a confused look on your face. "You really think I'd leave us with nothing?" He laughed, as you both, hand in hand made your way to the smoking area, standing at one of the tables. "I'll get us drinks, you crush that shit and I'll be back asap!" He said, pointing to the bar in the smoking area, you just nodded obediently.

You got to work, crushing it up in the baggy and smiling to yourself. You heard Eric shouting behind you with Kyle, Wendy, Stan and Butters. They approached your table, watching you carefully make two thick lines on the table as Kenny came back, two double vodkas in hand, no mixers. "Where'd you all come from?" He joked, handing you your drink and rolling up one of the notes he had received back as change. He snorted it quickly so you all wouldn't get caught and thrown out, you did as he did and giggled slightly after taking it, both of you downing your drinks. "How the fuck are you both not dead?!" Butters shouted loudly, Tweak and Clyde finding your group in the crowd, and all of you chatting among each other. Kenny handed you a cigarette and put one between his lips, lighting it and passing you the lighter, as you lit it you felt an arm snake around your shoulders, pulling you close to his body. You looked up at your boyfriend, giggling to yourself. He whispered something to Stan and Kyle as they all nodded, the music too loud for you to know what they were talking about. They began laughing as Eric too joined in the conversation. "I'm getting some more drinks!" You shouted loudly, as you walked over to the bar, everything spinning round you, boy you loved this feeling, and knowing Kenny felt the same was even better.

You turned around to see Kenny standing a few meters from you, staring at you as you came back to hand him a drink, a soft smile on his face as he stared at you. Fuck, he was the luckiest guy in this club, in South Park, fuck it, in the world to be able to call you his. You both understood each other like no one else did, not even your parents, you guys had been through everything together, and that's why he was going to make sure you were his girl for life. He had a ring back in your apartment and wasn't sure when to propose, but he was going to, just not while you were both fucked up. "I told the guys after this drink that we're gonna go home, my cock and I have some unfinished business to attend to." He said, winking and stealing a kiss from you. "Can we all dance before we go?" You pleaded, and Kenny just simply nodded. "Whatever you'd like, Princess." He said. He knew clubs like this would never end well with a pretty girl on your hip, some other douche always had to press their boundaries, and you were his girl, no one else's.

Your large group headed back to the dance floor, as a throwback banger came on. The first song you guys listened to together at the very first party you had all ever been to, it was like a movie, you all sang (shouted) along, badly. "DON'T YOU WORRY CHILD, SEE HEAVEN'S GOT A PLAN FOR YOU!" You all screaming in unison, dancing like lunatics when the beat dropped. You truly did have the best group of friends that anyone could ask for, and to top it off, the best partner in the entire universe, he little would and has died for you, just to make sure you were safe.

Your eyes became hyper fixated on your partners face as you sang to each other, tears of joy both steaming down your faces. Kenny couldn't believe how beautiful you looked as he turned to give the guys a knowing look, he let go of the grip he had on you and got on one knee, giggling to himself, not even having the ring on his possession. "WILL YOU MARRY ME, Y/N AND MAKE ME THE HAPPIEST GUY IN THE WORLD?!" He shouted and you swore your heart skipped a beat, the guy you got married to in the playground all those years ago now finally asking you for your hand in marriage, together, both of you, together, forever. "OF COURSE I WILL!" You shouted back, as he picked you up, spinning your round with him on the dance floor, all of your friends chanting and cheering loudly.

"Now if you'll all excuse us, I'm gonna go home and fuck my fiancée!" Kenny exclaimed loudly. Everyone erupted into laughter as you both made your way out of the club, not even making it home. Kenny had pinned you against a wall in a dark alleyway, two streets away from the club, one hand gripping your thigh up to his side, the other massaging your boob, his cock already buried deep within you, your moans filled the air, it wasn't long before you were both reaching orgasm together, Kenny chanted your name like a mantra, and you screamed his name loudly, your thighs pulling him as deep inside you as he could manage, his cum painting your insides, both equally as breathless as each other.

"How 'bout we go home, we smoke a fat blunt each, order some takeout and cuddle the rest of the night?" Kenny suggested, a small smile on his lips as he watched you pulling your jeans up, still breathless and legs weak. "That sounds fucking perfect." You replied, giving him a passionate kiss before taking his hand in yours. "You better be careful kissing me like that, baby, you know how high my sex drive is, I'll end up fucking you the rest of the night." He said, a smirk on his face, throwing you a quick wink. "Oh, I'm aware Mr McCormick." You flirted back. "Won't be long till you're Mrs McCormick." He replied, a large and genuine smile on his face, you could see his little tooth gap and your heart soared. You get to spend eternity with the only guy you've ever loved, and if that isn't perfection, I don't know what is.

sorry it was so long!! I really hope you enjoyed it!! I'm gonna try writing some more, so please let me know what you think and if you have any requests, hit me up!!

[fallingdownhell]

As someone who loves poly relationships and rarepairs, I got something.

May I request a poly between Childe and Ayato with a reader who's a baker? Reader's always making goodies for the boys, especially when they're at work. They want to make sure their lovers are in good health and shape, so they spoil the boys a lot.

Why is this so cute? I never really thought about this ship, and now I can't get it out of my head. Thanks for that, anon xD Pairing: Ayato x Reader x Childe Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; general headcanons; fluff Word count: 824 words Enjoy<3

well, first, let's get the obvious out of the way. Even with you involved, it would take a long time for Ayato and Childe to get along to the point where they don't fantasize about killing the other constantly

I mean, one is a Fatui Harbinger, so it's basically in his job description, and the other is the Head of his Clan, highly respected by his people, and expected to lead them fairly

and yet still, both have fallen madly in love with you. So for your sake, they try and get along, and over time, a genuine bond seems to grow out of it, which makes you all the more happier

since Childe has a lot of travelling to do with his job, it was mutually decided between you three that you would move in at Ayato's estate, and Childe could always come and visit whenever he has free time

Usually, when the Ginger comes around, you spend all of your time either with him alone, or with all of them together. In your eyes, Ayato has you all to himself most of the time, so when Childe is here, you spend as much time with him as possible, to make up for when he was gone

even knowing your job as a baker, the boys discover your passion for baking very early on. Whenever you got some free time to spare, you like to spend it in the kitchen, trying out new recipies that you found

sure, it's part of your job, but they are genuinely happy that you get to live off of your passion. With Ayato gifting you a small shop in Inazuma City that you can design like you want, and Childe declaring few of his underlings as your workers, you're fully equipped to open up a shop of your own, something that you've always dreamed of doing

the boys are just happy to see you all happy and smiling, gushing to them about the plans you have, what you want to put on your menu, etc. They are all smiles when they listen to you, clinging onto every word that leaves your lips

even with all the baking you do at work, you still often come home and head directly to the kitchen, baking some simple cookies or such for your boyfriends, loving when you see their faces light up when they eat your baked goodies

sometimes, Thoma also comes around, drawn in by the smell of it, and he always offers to help you with it, so you can make even larger badges. Wether you take him up on the offer or not, he respects your decision

Childe also likes to help you out from time to time. However, Ayato is no longer allowed in the kitchen. He "helped" you one time, and he put so many weird ingredients in the dough, the brownies tasting so weird that you'd banned him from the kitchen. He sulked about it at first, but came to terms with it. In the end, he still gets to enjoy your baking, so he can deal with it

when Childe tells you that he has to leave again soon, you sometimes bake him stuff that's a bit more durable, so he has something to enjoy during his journey back

days spend with the two of them are either one of two things. They are either the most exciting days you've ever experienced in your life, or they are spend just relaxing and cuddling, trying to make as much of the company you get to share while it lasts

You've experienced many adventures with them, as they are often taking you out to explore the islands of Inazuma, or even to other nations where you get to try as much food as you can

they love to see your face brighten up with excitement and since they both have a lot of money to spend, they love to spoil you by buying things for you. Wether that be food, a shop, juwelery or whatever else it is you wish for. Just say the word and one of them will buy it for you

Gift giving is a big love language for both Ayato and Childe. Childe always brings many presents when he returns from another trip and Ayato surprises you with a gift at least twice a week. It's just how they express their love to you

generally, they treat you very gently and with care. They are both powerful people, but they'd never want you to be afraid of them. They don't care if others think of them as weak for that. For you, they'd gladly be percieved as such if only you are happy

overall, I'd give this relationship dynamic like a solid 7,5-8/10. With both Ayato and Childe, you are very well taken care of and loved. What more could one wish for when having them both as your loving partners?

[esmes]

don't mind me - just some rainy day musings bc sweeney todd 2023 has rotted my brain

someone's tags on a gifset got me thinking about 2023 revival lovett and todd and the special something their dynamic has. there's something about this particular iteration of these characters and their relationship, especially as we see it evolve throughout the show (even as we've seen it evolve throughout the show's run), that just makes mrs lovett's betrayal and her death at his hands hit hard. i know, i know - she deserves it. she lies! she's a lying liar. her deceit is no small thing. any one of us would be incensed to have been misled the way she misleads sweeney. even if a small part of her may have done it, as she says, to spare him having to see what became of his lucy, the larger part was certainly to serve her own interests.

but there's something about how close mrs lovett gets to bringing sweeney around to her this time that just gets me carried away. they're not just business partners - they're lovers, they're co-conspirators, and they're sort of each other's only friend in the world. at this point, he indulges her flights of fancy. they know each other intimately. they joke with each other! he's likely had to listen to countless hours of her prattling on about her thoughts, hopes, and wishes. this is a man who, at this point in the show, is slitting people's throats without remorse. and yet he spends the evening on the sofa cleaning his pipe while he patiently listens to his girlfriend rave about a seaside wedding. when she takes his hand, he doesn't wrench himself from her grasp like he used to. he doesn't get up and walk out, which he could do. he accepts her - her presence, her company, her warmth. he may struggle to admit it to himself, but he does. he can concede that he loves her - just a little bit, though he can't quite bring himself to say the words. sweeney is fiercely loyal to lucy's memory, so much so that he clearly couldn't ever wholly give his heart to someone else, but, in that moment after "by the sea", you can see that he's softened toward lovett. they were both alone a long time before this, after all.

it's not the stuff of great love songs, but it's something. it's almost enough.

this is what ultimately makes the final living moments between them all the more heartbreaking. mrs lovett has always been a sympathetic character to me - a villain, sure, but not without her reasons. she's a woman alone in a brutal world. whether the character is an older or a younger iteration, she's been alone for a desperately long time. when sweeney returns to her after all this time, she sees her moment and she takes it. she's not letting her second chance at life get away from her without a few claw marks.

when sweeney kills her, he sheds no tears over it - but the grudging fondness we'd seen him beginning to feel toward her only serves to emphasize how monstrous of a deception it is. his "you LIED to me" comes out in an anguished roar. when he throws her in that oven, all the light goes out from the world. it takes my breath away every time. though it should, it doesn’t quite feel like justice.

i know not everyone loves annaleigh's interpretation, but i have maintained from the first time i saw this revival that the warmth she brings, the honeyed, deluded, comical sweetness that lures sweeney into believing life with her could be tolerable, if not ideal, was a brilliant choice.

that's why the leap into hell together works for me. some productions have had sweeneys that barely tolerate their lovetts, so a cold diverging of paths makes sense. these two definitely fall into a different category. it makes sense to me for this sweeney and lovett's ultimate fate to be each other. who else would it be? lucy did nothing wrong - she's not going where he's going. having made lovett pay for her lies, they can head on down (hand in unlovable hand!!!!!!!) to live out the almost-enough life they created with each other. and sure, her chirping his ear off for eternity would certainly make an appropriate punishment for his crimes.

[theworldlookswhite]

TAPEWORM

TYPE: GREATER MACHINE

DATA: BELOW CUT

A colonial machine, the Tapeworm is a scraphead comprised of many segmented individuals, all working together for the greatest treasures they can find - more fuel, and memories.

Tapeworms carry an innate fascination with their fellow machines to the point of cannibalism. They scuttle thin passages like vents and tunnels to scout out their prey, tearing from them their minds - discs, drives, chips and even tapes containing precious long-term storage and memories are methodically torn from their owners and hoarded by the Tapeworm.

It sees no greater worth than these minds, and will often discard the rest of the carcass, leaving a demented husk of a machine, unable to plan beyond a few seconds without the ability to save long-term memories. The minds of these machines are absorbed into new segments of the Tapeworm, and join an ever rising chorus of minds - meanwhile, the carcasses are left behind as easy pickings. Particularly daring scrapheads will trail Tapeworms for parts, at the risk of being assimilated themselves.

Tapeworms were initially created as reconnaissance machines, around the middle period of the Great War - the earlier models were much smaller, no more than a meter in size, and were designed to copy schematics from rival producers. The modern Tapeworms of Hell measure much larger as an artificial kind of gigantism, rebuilding themselves larger for their own safety.

While Tapeworms are a rarity among the machine denizens of Hell, they can nevertheless be found most often roaming cities like those of Lust and Heresy, finding home in their thin passages and corridors. Tapeworms have been sighted roaming other layers, however, preferring small, enclosed spaces.

STRATEGY:

- The Tapeworm connects its segments in communication by the mess of wires on its underbelly, along with thick cables between segments - if damaged, they could cut parts of itself from one another.

- While difficult, striking the large pink flashlight on its face will disorient it - and you - greatly. The small camera it has is poorly equipped for low light, relying on its own glow to see well.

- Because it is a colony of smaller machines, different Tapeworms may very greatly in size.

[anthropologyruinseverything]

New fic series! WWE Mafia AU

Welcome to what is essentially my dark romance, junk food series. I want to practice writing in the genre so here we go! Plz see CW warnings. There are 3 fulls stories and a 1 shot planned, I will be writing stories and one-shots as part of this universe as time goes on. As of right now Jey, Damian, Roman and Tama are in the works but I’d like to expound so hit me with recs!

(They may take time to write)

Now on with it.

18+ only from here plz - minors dni

Sea & Moon

Jey Uso x IndigenousFMC

Summary: Nokomis “Kiki” Levy was a normal twenty year old college student whose biggest concerns were passing chemistry and what graduate programs would want to see on an application.

Joshua “Jey” Fatu is thirty-one and has recently been appointed heir apparent of his father’s branch of their families shadowy enterprise and needs to prove himself up to the task.

Their worlds collide when Kiki’s father, a detective with SFPD, gets too close to Jey’s family business. While they start as enemies there is an undeniable burn between them. Will a much larger threat be their end or give them a chance to thrive together?

🚨It’ll be a dark journey for the Levy girls, please heed content warnings that include mild n0n-con between main characters, dubious consent, violence, mentions of difficult topics such as substance abuse, mental health issues and more. There will be various k!nks such as prim@l play, masks, captiv!ty, 🔪 play, ch0king, and more. The boys are morally grey to black but love and obsess over their ladies.

There is an HEA for everyone! I probably won’t post more than the prologues and one shots here on Tumblr and leave the really dark stuff on AO3. I will post links though and just drop a comment if you’d like to be tagged in any further updates.

## Prologue

**Nokomis “Kiki” POV**

⭐️*character note, Kiki has vitiligo which affects her face over her right eye, her hands and other other areas.

It was just supposed to be another regular movie night at home with my sister and cousin, nothing unusual or life altering. The same sort of thing we did almost every Saturday night since we could remember. I didn’t think twice when my folks decided on a last minute date night while we three girls piled onto the couch for comedies and popcorn, waving them off as if I’d see them in a few hours.

I wished I’d hugged them tighter and longer. As if that would have somehow stopped what happened next.

Not long after my parents had left my dad’s retired K9 partner Atlas started going insane, running back and forth to the back door and barking. I assumed he was interested in a rabbit or some other critter like a possum in the backyard so I hushed him and sent him to his crate for acting so crazy. In the long run I’d probably saved his life but I had still wished for his protection with what came next.

We never heard the back door locks being picked or footsteps in the kitchen. Between the movie, our laughter and the occasional dog bark nothing else penetrated our space and like most college students on a Saturday night our minds weren’t on the dangers lurking in the shadows. We didn’t know anything was wrong until Kai went to the kitchen for drinks and her scream alerted Kiri and me to our unwelcome visitors.

I’d never felt so stupid and slow as I did when the large men in masks appeared in the doorway, one with a particularly vicious face mask, long black hair and icy gray eyes held a long knife to Kai’s throat, clutching her tightly to his front with his other arm. Every time I ever swore to myself and my parents I would fight back went out the window when I realized it might actually cost my cousin her life. Instead I reached for Kiri’s hand as we stood frozen to the spot. Her light brown eyes were blown wide in fear and her normally tan face had gone ashen.

Everyone was quiet except for Atlas’s enraged barking.

The shortest man was still at least six feet tall and he wore a black mask with red spiral designs that covered his lower face. Withdrawing a gun from a shoulder holster he indicated the elderly german shepherd. “Shut it the fuck up.”

Instinctively Kieran and I both moved to stand between him and Atlas, her fingers digging into my hand tighter than ever before while her other came up in a placating gesture as I spoke. “Please don’t hurt him, he’s old and scared.” She turned to me with frightened eyes and indicated I should comfort him with a jerk of her chin. Dropping I tried to soothe him and at least got him to quiet down to a whimper.

The next thing I became aware of nearly made me lose control of my bladder. A harsh, cold metal gun barrel was pressed to the back of my head as Kiri’s hand was wrenched from mine.

“You girls gonna behave?”

I swallowed past the thick lump in my throat and nodded, hating that every inch of me was paralyzed. What happened to being an officer’s daughter who could stand her ground? All I could think about was that knife pressed to Kai, that gun leveled at the back of my head or at Atlas. If I didn’t behave they could be hurt or I could be killed. I risked glancing up at Kieran who was so still and quiet, being held by the largest of the three. His purple and black mask was monstrous like the tattoos on his exposed arms.

“Stand up slowly. Where’re your parents?” Out of habit when someone stared at me intensely I let my hair fall forward over my face even as I did what he said. His dark brown eyes looked black in the dim light of the living and the comedy kept playing in the background offering a ridiculous soundtrack to such a grave moment. Everything felt surreal in the flashing lights.

“N-not home.” My voice shook even as I tried to sound calm. “Our dad, he’s a cop, he’ll be back soon.” As if supplying that information would make him think twice.

The tall one chuckled, responding in a deep voice that fit his intimidating stature. “We know mija. He’s why we’re here.”

Kai’s whimper brought my attention back to her and the man holding her. He was far too interested in running his knife down her chest. “Hey! Stop it!”

Kai was two years younger than us and as such we’d always been protective of her. I realized what I’d done when those cold gray eyes flashed to me.

The man with black eyes didn’t hesitate, stepping in uncomfortably close to put the barrel under my chin. “Behave.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Survival mode engaged apparently. I realized we were truly fucked when he tugged his mask down to reveal an equally black beard but handsome face. “Leave a note D. We’re taking them and their old man can turn himself in when *we’re* ready.”

The last thing I remembered for a while was Kai crying out and a sharp prick in my neck before everything went black.

———

**Joshua “Jey” POV **

Catching the purple haired girl as she fell I moved to set her on the couch with the other two so they could be tied up. We’d come looking for Detective Levy and we were leaving with his twin daughters and their cousin. Not the worst all things considered but still not my plan and I didn’t like it when things didn’t go according to plan.

“You said he’d be here tonight D.”

Damian tugged his mask off with a shrug, accepting the roll of duct tape Roman had retrieved from his bag. He passed me one as well and we went to work taping the girls wrists, ankles and mouths.

“I’ll talk to J.D.” Unlike our family Damian ran a crew of people he’d collected with no ties aside from shared interests. It made them difficult to trust and easy to be angry with as far as I was concerned. I owed Damian my life, not them.

“Do that. Let’s get the fuck outta here.

Roman, you can mess with her later.” He was preoccupied with the pretty little woman he’d pounced on in the kitchen, running his hands up her thighs over her pajama pants. Instead of answering he just rolled those alarming eyes of his and threw her over his shoulder. I took a second to really assess the young woman in front of me. Her name was Nokomis, one of the detectives two daughters. College student majoring in biology and member of the chess club. Of course. What I hadn’t known about was her vitiligo and I found myself more interested than I should have been in the beautiful patterns on her skin. A particular blaze over her right eye was especially striking.

Shaking the thoughts loose I followed his example and so did Damian with his new charge. Our SUV was parked in the alley behind the house and it had been easy enough to blow out the lone street light a few days prior. We put our two in the third row while Roman climbed in the center with his prize. I felt a twinge of pity for her. Capturing his interest so intently was not an enviable thing for anyone.

I waited until Damian was pulling the car onto the street to speak. “Obviously this changes things.”

“No mierda Jey.” Damian’s irritation was obvious. He knew I hated it when jobs went wrong and I knew it irritated him as well. Not to mention bad intelligence was always followed by a period of mistrust and I knew J.D. was already on thin ice as it was. “You were serious about holding them?”

I looked back at the middle row to find my cousin petting the woman in his lap even as she seemed to struggle against him. It would have been funny if I didn’t know him. “Yeah. Can have some fun but don’t kill ‘em.” I looked pointedly at Roman.

“I don’t kill women Jey. Just…like to play rough.”

“Yeah with professionals, not college kids.”

“You sure that’s a good idea? She saw your face cabrón.” Damian cut in. He had a good point but I wasn’t worried. If I hadn’t thought through this possibility I may have been more stressed about the decision.

“Nah, when they see what we do to their old man they’ll be too scared to say shit and we’ve paid off or killed anyone else who could do shit about it anyway.”

He flexed his broad shoulders and stole a glance in the rear view as the other girls were coming to and shifting around in the far back seat. I wasn’t blind or dumb and while he wasn’t as obvious as Roman I could see he was interested in the little one he’d held onto.

“Could let off some steam.”

I smirked. It wouldn’t be hard to seduce them, a few drinks and some promises and they’d be pliant like most other females I dealt with on the regular. I’d be lying if said I wasn’t intrigued by the girl who stared at me in the rear view, her light brown eyes looking golden in passing streetlights. I could see the defiance in them.

Good. Maybe having to wait a few more days to end the cop who got too close and couldn’t be bought wouldn’t be so bad. Not with some pretty company.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: Amazonian river dolphin

It's the last Wet Beast Wednesday of the year. I started doing this little project to help myself get used to Tumblr and encourage myself to use it more often. That absolutely worked and I'm going to keep going. For my first ever WBW post, I discussed an adorable cetacean, so I'm going to call back to that by discussing a less adorable cetacean. Meet the Amazonian river dolphin, also known as the boto, bufeo, and pink dolphin because, well look at it.

(image id: an Amazonian river dolphin peeking out of the water. It is a large dolphin with a long, thin snout, bulbous head, and small dorsal fin. Its entire body is bright pink. end id)

River dolphins are dolphins the exclusively inhabit freshwater. There are several species (from four to six depending on your source) that are not all closely related. Probably the most famous of these is the Amazonian river dolphin Inia geoffrensis. They live in the Amazon, Orinoco, and upper Maderia rivers of South America. There are three subspecies: I. g. geoffrensis (the Amazon river dolphin), I. g. humboldtiana (the Orinoco river dolphin), and I. g. boliviensis (the Bolivian river dolphin, previously considered a separate species). There is also debate on whether the Araguaian river dolphin should be considered a subspecies of Amazonian river dolphin or a separate species. A common name for the dolphins found throughout Brazil is boto, though this is also used to refer to another river dolphin species, the tucuxi, as well as marine dolphins that occasionally enter fresh or brackish water. The amazonian river dolphins is the largest river dolphin, with males reaching 2.5 meters (8.2 ft) and 185 kg (408 lbs). Males are larger than females, averaging 16% longer and 55% heavier. The most famous feature of these dolphins are their color. while they are born grey, they lighten up as they age, eventually becoming pink. The amount of pink varies between individuals, with some being grey with pick spots and others going full Barbie mode. It's not clear why they turn pink and why some are pinker than others. Possible explanations include the distribution of capillaries under the skin, consuming large amounts of pink pigment through their diet (the same thing that happens with flamingos), and exposure to sunlight. Males are generally pinker than females, which may be due to them accumulating larger amounts of pink scar tissue while fighting over females. The dolphins get noticeably pinker when they are excited, which may be similar to a human blushing.

(Image id: a dolphin holding its head out of the water, seen from the front. Its mouth is partly open, showing a single row of teeth within. It is pink. end id)

Amazonian river dolphins are not known for being the prettiest cetaceans. With long, skinny shouts, lumpy bodies, non-distinct dorsal fins, and scarred, rough skin, they won' be winning many beauty contests. Maybe its for the best that they don't have very good eyesight. When living in a place as murky as a major river, eyes often aren't that useful. They instead navigate almost exclusively through echolocation. While not as powerful as they eyes of oceanic dolphins, river dolphin eyes are adapted to take in any available light, letting them see better in low-light environments such as a murky river under a canopy of leaves. The bulbous head contains the melon, an organ found in cetaceans used for echolocation. The melon can change shape, which may help focus the echolocation for different purposes. Part of the lumpy profile of the boto likely comes from their lack of blubber. Living in a tropical river means that river dolphins don't lose nearly as much body heat and therefore don't need the thick layer of blubber that helps streamline oceanic dolphins. They also don't need to be as hydrodynamic as they are a lot slower than oceanic dolphins. While slow, river dolphins are maneuverable and can rotate their flippers to turn themselves around without having to swim in a circle. In addition, unlike oceanic dolphins, the boto's neck vertebrate are unfused, allowing them to turn their head side to side. All of this helps the dolphins navigate and search for food in crowded rivers and flooded sections of forest. Another unique feature is the presence of whiskers on their snouts and cheeks, which are believed to help find food when poking around in the mud and aquatic plants. Yet another unique feature is the fact that they are heterodonts. This means they have different types of teeth. In the front of the snouts are the sharp, conical teeth found in other dolphins, but the uniquely have molar-like teeth in the back. These are used to crush hard prey, such as shellfish and turtles.

(image: a dolphin partially breaching out of the water while upside-down. Its large fins are in the air and its head is turned soits chin is facing the camera. end id)

The diet of the Amazonian river dolphin is the most varied of any toothed cetacean. At least 53 species of fish are part of its diet, though it prefers croakers, chiclids, tetras, and piranhas. As mentioned above, its molar-like teeth also allow it to crush through hard-shelled animals including bivalves, crabs, and turtles. They have been known to cooperate with tucuxi dolphins and otters to hunt, with the different animal working together to drive fish out of hiding places. The dolphins practice seasonal migration to follow their prey. During the wet season, they travel into floodplains, lakes, flooded parts of forests, swamps, and other places that are inaccessible during the dry season. During the dry season, they travel back into the main river. Males return to the river sooner that females and calves. The dolphins are less social than other dolphins, usually traveling alone or in groups of 2-4 members, though larger groups do happen. They do communicate with each other using whistles. During mating season, which usually happens in late June or August, they will congregate in large numbers. Males attempt to court females by carrying objects in their mouths such as branches and leaves and by nipping at the female's fins. Males also become aggressive and will fight with other females and with females that refuse their advances. These fight often leave the males covered in scars and nicks that can be used by scientists to identify them. Males will attempt to mate with as many females as possible. Gestation takes just under a year and calves are born in May and June as the wet season is beginning. The calves will nurse for a year and stay with their mother for two to three years. Females will not mate until their current calf has left, giving a mating frequency for females of between 2 and 3 years. Males may attack calves to force the mother to mate again. The life expectancy of wild dolphins is unknown.

(image id: a dolphin holding a leaf in its mouth. This may be part of a courtship display or play behavior. end id)

Amazonian river dolphins are known to be curious, playful, and not fearful of unfamiliar objects. This may because adults have almost no natural predators. Jaguars, caimans, and anacondas will attack them, but prefer targeting calves over adults. They are known to play with sticks, plants, small animals, and other submerged objects. They are also reported to follow boats and rub up against them and grab oars with their mouths. This may be a combination of play behavior and following boats to catch fish they scare. River dolphins have also been reported to approach humans, usually children, and examine or play with them. Botos feature quite a bit in the mythology and folklore of the peoples of South America. A common myth states that the boto can come on shore at night and take the form of a human, a boto encatado. While appearing as beautiful people, they need to wear hats as their blowholes stay on their heads. Male encantados come to shore to party and seduce women, but must return to the river before the transformation wears off. Many illegitimate children are fathered when an encantado comes to town. Female encantados seduce and bewitch married men. She will visit him on the anniversary of their meeting for seven years. On the seventh year, she turns him into a baby and places him in his wife's womb. Some stories say that they come from an underwater paradise called Encante and visit humans to experience hardships and parties. It is said that people who travel the river at night, especially women and children, may be kidnapped by the dolphins and taken to Encante, from which they will never return. Other stories say that the dolphins can make beautiful music and control storms. Killing one brings bad luck, and eating one brings worse luck, while making eye contact curses you with nightmares. Their body parts had magic powers and were sometimes used as fetishes (not that kind) by shamans.

(image: a man with back to the camera hand-feeding a fish to a dolphin. end id)

Amazonian river dolphins are classified as endangered by the IUCN. Their largest threats come from humans. Overfishing leads to food loss and can lead to the dolphins becoming entangled in nets and drowning. Damming reduced their habitat and excess gold mining releases poisonous mercury into the water. Some are also killed to be used as bait. Fishermen have been known to kill dolphins who damage their equipment. Deforestation is also decreasing usable habitat. Amazonian river dolphins fare poorly in captivity and captive breeding is not considered a viable conservation method.

(image id: a dolphin calf being rescued by a conservationist. the person is holding it out of the water. The dolphin has the same body shape as an adult, but is grey instead of pink).

[ya-zz]

Really love your ram! I love the 'fixed the broken' it touched my heart with many fluffiness to the point that I could faint 🥺. So please I would like to request for (fluff) ramattra and the reader, every time it rain they would coincidentally meet each other at the same shelter or different one each time or both, it could be funny that way too! Up to you :)

hhhhhhh I fucking love soft Ramattra just as much as the next person.

Apologies it took awhile to get to, but hey, a nice double upload today!

Ramattra x reader (gen)

Word count: 1173

It was the same shit just different day. Having to travel to work early, and then travel home late made you wonder whether or not the job was even worth it; and let’s not talk about when the rainy weather would hit, whether light or a storm, you would still push on in. 

But, despite the travel, despite the weather, you enjoyed the job. Repairing omnics was something you had grown to do, even more so after the crisis. You wanted to do what you could to help, no matter how small it may be. 

The walk was worth it though. The scenery in Nepal was everything you had ever wished for. The omnic village was accommodating, human travellers passing occasionally, however you were the more frequent visitor. The omnics there welcomed you each day, passing ‘thanks’ and ‘have a good day’ whenever you walked past. They were more like a family then your own family was. 

Today, however, the rain was coming down hard the moment you had finished work. After closing the workshop, locking the shutters and hiding under the provided shelter, you sigh. Looking across the street, watching the puddles grow larger by the second, you zip up your coat only to realise there was no hood. 

Can it get any worse…?

With a slightly more irritated yet defeated sigh, you walk out into the pouring rain and begin the journey home. The rain pelted your face, soaking you in moments as you walked. Down hill was going to be the trickier part. Having no grip on your shoes and rocky terrain, it wasn’t exactly the safest for walking. Keeping close to the wall, you hold on, hoping to not slip and end up at the bottom. While it would be quicker, the bruises and possible painful injuries weren’t going to help you repair omnics. 

It was a slow and careful descent, one where you kept your eyes on the ground, rather than in front of you, but the moment the ground levelled, you took a breather under a nearby shelter. 

The rain was still coming down hard as you leant against the withering wood frame of the shelter. With your arms crossed over your chest to keep warm, you watch the rain, listening to the sounds. The wind blowing it in every direction but also shaking the leaves above. Thunder rolled in, making you step back further into the shelter.

“It is not safe for you to be out here.” A voice called out, making you turn quickly. 

You reply back whilst looking over the omnic. “Neither is it for you.” 

He goes to speak once more but holds himself back, instead moving further into the shelter.

There was an eerie silence as the two of you stayed under for awhile, letting the rain pass. You stayed quiet, watching the rain lighten up before you deemed it safe enough to wander back out and home. 

The omnic doesn’t say anything, waiting there a little while longer as he watches you leave. He wonders where he had seen you before and then it clicks. This wasn’t your first encounter with him. It was the second and he never forgets a face. 

Last week you were resting under the shelter not far from the repair shop reading. He had stood near you, not wanting to disrupt you, but the moment you closed your book and looked up at him, the smile that embraced your face engrained itself into his systems. 

He had hoped to see you again and his circuits warmed when he did. 

And again when he saw you a few days later at the same shelter. It wasn’t raining this time, but it was cold. His temperature was keeping him warm, circling that heat around his chassis, but he could see you were shivering. 

The winter weather was brutal, your gloves and scarf were merely decoration. The sudden drop in temperature meant you weren’t prepared at all, having to grab whatever you could find within the workshop before you left. 

“You should hurry home.” The omnic spoke out, stepping under the shelter. 

“I would, but I’m too cold to move right now.” 

“You will freeze to death if you stay out here any longer.” His optics scan your figure, noting the shivering and your temperature lower than normal. 

“I wasn’t prepared for this drop in temperature.” You speak between shuddered breaths. 

He looks ahead, a slight nod. “It was sudden, yes.” 

You hum in response, tucking your hands into your pockets. 

“How far do you walk from here?” He asked. 

“About forty minutes.” 

For once, the omnic felt concerned. “There is a tea house that is closer. Perhaps you should rest there and warm up.” He points back towards the village as you look up at him. 

“Maybe I will. Thank you.” You smile up at him and step out from under the shelter. 

“Ramattra.” He calls out, causing you to stop and turn to him. “I am Ramattra.” 

He noticed your smile again as you spoke. “[y/n].” You bow your head slightly. “It’s a pleasure to put a name to the face.” 

“I agree.” He hums, watching you turn and scurry off back to the village. 

–

There was a long while before Ramattra saw you again. Part of him hurt and he was confused as to why. He has never felt this way before, especially for a human. The moment he saw you under the shelter not far from the decline, he wandered over, staff in one hand while he raised the other. 

When you saw him approaching and waving at you, you returned the gesture, waving back and smiling. 

“We have to stop meeting like this?” You joke, watching as he stands next to you, closer than he has ever done before. 

“Who is to say that this is not my favourite part of the day.” He looks down at you from the side, a chuckle escaping his vocaliser.

“Oh stop it.” You laugh, cheeks blushing ever so slightly as you stare out into the rain. 

“It has been awhile since I last saw you.” He states. 

“Late night repairs.” You sigh softly. “There’s been a lot of trouble recently.” 

The omnic nods. “I have heard. I did not think it would be that bad.” 

“I’m the only one around here capable of fixing omnics, so they all come to me.” 

“Would you require assistance?” Ramattra asks. 

You look up at him, smiling gently. “Company wouldn’t be so bad.” 

The omnic laughs, something he had not done in a long time. “Then perhaps I will meet you tomorrow, at the workshop this time.” 

“Yeah… I’d like that.”

Ramattra nods, the same warmth circling his chassis as he looks down at you smiling up at him. From chance meetings at the shelter, the omnic was glad there was a human out there capable of emotions and caring for his kind. He wanted to know more about you, to help you. 

He wanted to be with you longer.

[wyrm-with-a-why]

hiiii :3 I'm here with a barrage of sociolinguistic centered transformers headcanons. Most of this is my musing about the tfp universe, but i guess it could apply to other continuities. this is a thinly veiled info dump but i would like to hear some of your thoughts and ideas on this ^_^

I want to preface this by saying that language is the key component of every culture, at least in my opinion. As a texan, I consider my accent and the way I phrase things to be a strong part of my culture. I figure the same should go for cybertronians, considering all their variations, including different frametypes and castes and origins and all that jazz.

First and foremost I wanna talk about how quickly language changes. vernacular is ever changing. There are many examples of words becoming outdated or ‘cringe’ within just a few years of them existing in the public vocabulary. and if you think of how cybertronian life spans compare to humans, it's obvious that cybertronians must live through many many many changes in language. like complete evolutions of dialects and the births of new languages. so i think it would be fair to assume that just about every mech is a polyglot.

I also think it's fun to think about how the caste system could affect the common speak of certain areas. I imagine that most high class regions are more productivity/efficiency focused than, say, tarn, so a common language is more important to them. therefore they might have a ‘cybertronian standard’ that everyone speaks and maybe some few dead or actively dying languages still floating around. However, in a ‘lower caste’ polis like tarn or kaon, without that sort of structure and with a sort of individualistic culture, different dialects are more likely to spring up and thrive. like there's no distinct ‘kaonite’ language, but instead a collection of dialects that vaguely resemble each other originating in kaon.

That point brings me to conclude that decepticons found it hard to communicate with each other when the war first began. mechs came from all over cybertron to fight for the decepticon cause. and in life during wartime, there were things to worry about other than language, as important as communication may be. i suppose they MUST have adapted to each other's speech at some point over millions of years, in close quarters. hell, they might have even used their mixed up language to confuse the autobots and evade intel breaches. and maybe different units of the decepticon militia could've developed their own dialects, being on their own for years and years (similar to antarctic english!!)

ok now (entirely self indulgently) i wanna talk about my language based megatron headcanons. I figure he must speak uniquely, given his origins. I'd guess his mother tongue originated in tarn. more specifically, a dialect spoken almost exclusively by miners. a language most likely VERY different from any other tarnian tongue, due to the physical barrier between miners who never see the light of day and every mech on the surface. I like to think their dialect is derivative from their profession and a tight knit relationship between miners. Then of course he becomes a gladiator, and learns their language, which has probably developed distinctly due to their unusual profession as well. I imagine megatron would study other languages in his free time, and translate his own poems and other works to reach as many as possible. When megatron would give his speeches in the arena, and later to the greater public, he would try to hide as much of his original accent as possible. Not because he was ashamed, but because he knew it would make him 'agreeable' to the higher castes and more persuasive to a larger demographic. He still very much believes that what he's saying is more important than how he says it, but he understands the impact that language has on persuasion. After a while of constantly making speeches to the masses in his ‘charisma voice’ it's become his standard way of speaking (basically my reasoning of why he talks Like That). He only ever speaks his native language to soundwave, and a bit to orion pax before the war. and he almost exclusively talks to soundwave in the kaonite gladiator dialect. Basically it's considered a high honor to hear megatron speak without his regular inhibitions, even though he is deeply proud of his origins and consequently his language.

oh goodness i just realized i've basically written you an entire essay-length rant (T▽T;)

sorry if this was a messy read, i just wanted to get my thoughts down lol. Every paragraph is basically its own thing 😭. Tell me what you think though!!! (if you actually feel like reading all that ToT). I'd like to hear someone else’s input on this; its one of my fave talking points (> w <)

We have a lot of similar ideas!!! I’ve always headcanoned the miners to have their own specific dialect that no one else can understand so unless they’re a Tarnian mining caste bot Megatron sounds like he’s just making noise. I headcanon that hell often curse in that language but his curses aren’t anything translatable (like some French curse words) they’re just a swear word specifically for the language

I also love the idea of accents and different accents, Megatron’s accent randomly slamming into his voice at full send catching everyone off guard even himself sometimes

And I think it would be hilarious if Megatron would talk shit to himself about everyone and no one can understand what he’s saying. I also think it could be interesting if this idea was ever explored : let’s say there’s an important message written in something but it’s in miner Tarnian or something along those lines of situations

Cybertronian language is so fun!!!

Also, tossing another projected headcanon that Megatron has dyslexia and has to make sure his writings, poems or messages are written in the proper dialect and not in old Tarnian or kaonite dialects. Soundwave could help him with the kaonite parts, basically peer reviewing his work for accidental slip ups in language change because Soundwave can catch his only other dialect, kaonite, faster than Megatron who had to learn kaonite then other dialects (like many others probably did) when the uprising started

[worshipper-status]

💙Tips from a Worshipper💙: How to Make a Shrine

Hello! I hope you’re having a good day! This post is an idea I’ve had for a while so here’s my guide to making a shrine for your own darling! This post isn’t the be all end all to shrines but it’s tips and advice I’ve gathered from doing my own thing for a while. Feel free to add your own tips in the tags of this post if you reblog it. I’d appreciate it a lot!

1.) Get a shoe box or a larger gift  box if you want more space.

This is entirely for practicality purposes. You don’t want to have a full on shrine in your room, in case anyone ever visits you or goes in your room. It’s inconvenient and annoying to have to take it down and put it back up, if there’s a possibility someone may want to go in your room. This is particularly useful for me, because my beloved knows I identify as a yandere but I get self conscious about her seeing the things I do because of it, so keeping it in a neat enclosed space to take out and do what I please and then pack it up and put it away when I’m done helps a lot both mentally and for practical reasons. 

2.) Consider the materials you want for it. Don’t be afraid to have fun with it!

Your darling deserves a beautiful shrine! If you have photos of them, print them out and line the walls of the box with them, or simply just leave them in an envelope inside the box to flip through when you want. Maybe if you’re artsy, decorate the inside of the box with markers and pens. Get some stickers and slap those on the side of the box. Maybe there’s something you associate your darling with? Put imagery of those in there too! My beloved associates me with sharks and associates herself with eevees so there’s a lot of that going on in mine. I often leave a candle in the shrine to take out and light whenever I’m doing anything with it. Bonus points if you know what your darling smells like so you can grab a candle with a similar scent. Other things I leave in the shrine are things I use to symbolize tokens of affection, so crystals, rings, jewelry, art pieces I’ve drawn for her, gifts my darling has given me, printed screenshots of text conversations with my darling that make me happy, etc. This is very individualized to you and your darling, but if all else fails, just fill it up with things you associate them with. Do they really like bunnies? Bunny themes. Is there favorite color green? Green everything. Do they like nature? Nature motif. 

3.) What’s the purpose for the shrine? Adjust accordingly.

Maybe you just want the shrine as a storage space for things your darling has given you? Or maybe you want to use it as part of a nightly routine to make sure no matter what you’re giving your beloved the proper amount of love and affection and wishing them goodnight. Maybe you just want a space to express that obsessive side of you in peace, and then be able to pack it up and put it away as a coping mechanism for your obsessive thoughts. No shame in any of these options! But make sure you’re designing it to help you with these things. I tend to use mine as more of a place to express my obsessive side in peace and then pack it up and move on with my day, kind of as a way to satiate the thoughts. So what I did was I made a lock for my box. Yeah it’s not really functional, you could easily just rip open the box to see what’s inside, but it helps me make that mental distinction of, this is Worshipper time, and this is not Worshipper time. For nightly routine type shrines (or daytime whichever you prefer), I recommend having a pre determined nightly routine for this. Maybe every night, you talk to the shrine like it is your darling to get out thoughts you never said earlier, maybe you read off an honoring poem, maybe you just brush your hair in front of the shrine while daydreaming about your darling doing it, anything works, just make sure you have the things you need handy, such as keeping a printed poem in the box, or a hairbrush, or whatever else suits you. 

4.) Does your darling know you’re a yandere? Are you brave enough to ask them for things?

I know I’m lucky to have a darling that knows I’m a yandere and for the most part supports it. However, we are currently long distance (yeah, I know, it’s killing me) so I can’t get gifts from her often. However, once we are living together, I know I will not be afraid to ask for tokens of affection for the shrine. This is going to involve me stealing her hoodies (we’re the same size in clothes lol), maybe a few strands of hair from the bathroom sink, any little doodles or notes she leaves around, etc. This is also for those people lucky enough to have a vial of blood from their darling (I wish TwT). Give it an honorary display in your shrine for when you’re not wearing it. But yeah, if there’s anything in specific you want your darling to give you and you know they’d be willing, ASK FOR IT! 

5.) Consider a digital shrine!

I’ve actually just started curating my digital shrine and I think it’s a really good option for people! I have mine on a private discord server that’s just me and pluralkit. I use this server for mostly keeping track of my daily life stuff, system things, recipes, to do’s, etc. But at the bottom of the server, I have a separate channel for my shrine! It has all the selfies I’ve saved and gathered from my darling, images I’ve grabbed online that I feel embody our relationship, screenshots of convos, various poems and writings of mine, future ideas for dates and otherwise. It has been way easier to put together and curate than the physical one,  and I actually enjoy it quite a bit more. It’s a lot easier to make a daily thing, and a lot more fun for me too. I love scrolling through the internet and grabbing things to add to the shrine, throwing my own writings in the mix, and knowing that no one else is going to see it because it’s in a private discord server and unless someone gets onto my computer or phone, I’m fine.