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fleshbride · 11 months

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PRESENTING . . . AIN’T NUN BUT A HOOCHIE MAMA!

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ TOJI FUSHIGURO X F!BLK!HOOCHIE READER

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ CW: black fem reader; reader is 26, toji is 34; reader is on the thicker side; usage of the word nigga a few times; smut; breeding kink, hair pulling, dumbification, overstimulation, pussy slapping, impact play, messy pussy eatin’, size kink, hints of sado-masochism, a bit of brat taming, manhandling, praise & degradation, multiple orgasms, cervix fucking, choking, squirting; fwb-ish to lovers (?); pet names are used, such as mama, baby, pretty girl, dollface, princess & sweetheart; reader has a kid of her own; reader is a hoochie, meaning she’s seen as ‘ghetto’ but in a very pro-black & attractive way; reader has a mature body, pudge, cellulite, stretch marks; reader accidentally flashes toji; reader & toji share a blunt; toji is actually a good dad in this!

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ wc: 7.5k

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ this is actually pure filth. this was my first time writing for toji EVER and actually my longest work. guys when i tell you i put some shit into this thing, idk what i did but i SNAPPED. HARD. i hope you guys enjoy this nasty thing that came from my imagination. not proof read or anything so pls excuse my typos!

sometimes, your job could be a godsend. who knew that a simple job at the local hair store would catapult you into meeting one of the sexiest men you’d ever seen?

to be completely honest, it wasn’t solely your job that sparked such an interaction. it was moreso you; you possessed an irresistible, unmistakable charm that was impossible to ignore. your voice, soft as a lullaby, held a dulcet quality that drew people in like a magnet. anytime you opened your mouth to speak, you commanded attention effortlessly, as if your words held some mystical power that captivated any listener.

everyone was always drawn to you, and it wasn't hard to see why. who in their right mind wouldn’t be smitten? you were a vision of beauty, with your radiant brown skin that seemed to glow as if illuminated from within. your smile, perfect and white, could light up even the darkest room, making hearts skip a beat. your eyes were another story altogether. they seemed to sparkle, glimmering with an intensity that was all yours.

your hair was always done, you always made sure that you had a fresh set of lashes. to add, you never forgot to apply your clear lip gloss. now, this wasn't just any gloss, it was your signature, lip gloss added a radiant shine and highlighted the natural beauty of your plump and full lips. your lips, always so perfectly glossed, assumed an irresistible charm that made them look especially appetizing.

to add onto it, your personality was in tip top shape, matching your looks. while sometimes your mouth could get a little reckless, you had an air of kindness, professionalism and just genuine good vibes. it was hard to dislike you, no matter the case. you were a woman of wonders.

you loved your job at the hair store too; maybe that was why your attitude was always good while you were there. it paid well, the hours were flexible and it was something you enjoyed. you loved how your manager let you pick out the wigs and the outfits that would be displayed, and sometimes she let you take home left over makeup and jewelry — which was how you got your favorite set of hoop earrings.

working at the hair store also granted you all types of experiences. sometimes you met upcoming make-up artists and beauticians, hair dressers, nail techs, lash techs — you always made sure to be extra helpful and friendly to everyone you met, just in case they could ever help you.

or… on the rare occasion, you met men. often, they were coming in for their wives, daughters, sisters, nieces, friends — and each time, they were clueless. of course, you helped, breezing past them with the smell of bubblegum and perfume, preferably daisy by marc jacobs.

today was no different.

you were the only one working in the store this saturday, and it was roughly around 12 in the afternoon. the sound of needed me by rihanna echoed through the store, giving it a nice ambiance. you clocked in at 9, and were scheduled to get off at 4 — you had a bit of a long day ahead. however, the store had been a bit slow today. not many customers entered; maybe three every hour, compared to a usual 7-15 people per hour. you were both grateful and a bit sad for the lack of people, as it left you with extra time on your hands.

instead, you found yourself thinking of your six year old daughter at home. alaina, your sweet girl, who was at her grandmother’s for the day. you fondly rubbed the bead bracelet she made for you, that spelled out mommy. your daughter was the most loving child you knew, and you adored her with every part of you.

as you gazed at your bracelet, you let out a soft hum. you’d have to get her another one from here, even though she already had a plethora. whatever you got from the hair store, you usually shared with alaina.

the entrance bell dinging had you snapping out of your thoughts of your daughter, turning your head to greet whoever entered. your boxbraids slid down your back as you looked. it was a little girl who entered, no more than nine. she was in a cute blue dress, with dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail. her cheeks were rosy, which had you cooing at her mentally.

“hi baby,” you called out to her, looking behind her for a parent, “where’s ya mama, hm? a lil’ one like you shouldn’t be walking around all alone.” the girl hadn’t noticed you, and jumped when you called to her. she put her hands up, waving them enthusiastically. “o-oh no, miss, i’m with my dad! he’s just getting his wallet. do you know where the nails are? and the makeup?”

you smiled at the little girl, stepping from behind the counter. you were in a beige sun dress, with some matching wedged sandals. the sundress was long, coming down to your ankles, but there was a slit on the side. it hugged your curves nicely, even though your little bit of pudge was much noticeable; you didn’t care. to be honest, the dress covered way more than your usual outfits, especially in the summer like this. you had never been scared to show your body, even after you had alaina and people insisted on you covering up; because you were a mother now. however, you didn’t give a fuck. if you wanted to wear your shortest shorts, you would.

“c’mere baby girl, it’s this way.” you offered the young girl your hand, which she took happily as you led her. “i’m assuming you’re looking for the press ons, right? not the ones you glue?”

the girl gave you an enthusiastic nod. “yes, ma’am!” she was polite, you noted, with a curl of your lips. her father must be raising her right. “my dad says i’m not big enough to ruin my nails with glue..”

you let out a laugh as you squeezed the girl’s hand. “your daddy’s right,” you mused, “stick to the ones you can press til you become a teenager.” you brought her to the kiddie nails, and stood with her while she made her pick.

the young girl seemed stuck between a pair of pink ones leopard print ones, and blue zebra print ones. “what do you think, miss? i can’t choose.”

you only gave the girl a shrug. “i say get both. let ya daddy worry, not you.” however, because you liked this little girl, you’d only charge her for one anyways. the girl nodded in agreement, giving you a giggle, which you quickly reciprocated.

all of a sudden, you heard the gruff call of, “tsumiki! where have you ran off to?” the girl perked up immediately, and ran to the end of the aisle. “dad! i’m over here!” she called, waiting patiently for him to come over.

you raised your eyebrow as you made your way over. you were a bit curious to see the man who had raised such a sweet and polite girl. as you reached the end, your eyes widened as they set on the man.

he was tall, unbelievably so. his towering stature, reaching at least 6’2, must’ve made him stand out in any crowd. his body was muscular, brawny and well-built, and t he black compression shirt he wore clung to his chiseled frame, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. his hair, a deep black, was just a bit shaggy — the perfect length to frame his strikingly sharp face.

his eyes were a vivid green, so piercing that they could make anyone feel as if they were the only person in the world. they locked onto you and tsumiki. his attractiveness was lethal, and it was impossible not to notice the way he looked over you. his gaze was slow, lingering, and purposeful, almost as if he wanted to make sure you noticed his attention.

you would’ve been phased if you were a different woman; but you weren’t. instead, you gave him your trademark smile, looking up at him with a warm aura.

a scar sat on the corner of his lip. it twitched slightly as his lips curled into a smirk, making him look even more attractive to you then he already did.

“you work here?” came his deep, rough voice. it provoked goosebumps down your skin, but you didn’t allow yourself to show it.

“yup,” you answered, “sorry i wasn’t at the counter, i was helpin’ miss thing here pick out some new nails.” you watched toji’s mouth open, and held up a finger, “and yea, before you ask — it’s the press ons. no glue needed.” the man let out a hum and gave a nod of approval.

“good. tsumiki, go put those on the counter and if you want anything else, ya better pick before i get back up there.” he told her; his voice was rough, yet still somehow sounded caring. when tsumiki scampered away with an, “okayyy!”, he turned his vision back to you.

the once over he gave you earlier didn’t seem to be enough. he gave you another; from your champagne blond knotless boxbraids which were long and down your back, curving over the swell of your ass, down to your painted white toes in your sandals. shit. you were fucking hot.

“how old are you?” he asked boldly, not wasting a second.

you raised an eyebrow, “you ain’t ever heard it ain’t good to ask a lady her age?”

“so old enough,” he countered back with a smug smirk. “have you been able to drink legally for at least two years?” still asking your age without pointedly asking like before.

“i’ve been old enough to drink legally for five years,” you relented, “so like i said, old enough. why you askin’?”

“i like to know the ages of my women before i hit on ‘em.”

you grinned. you already knew you were going to like this man, and his attitude towards you solidified that. “and i like to know the age of my men before i let them,” you combatted.

“thirty-four,” he answered immediately, and the corner of your lips pulled up in satisfaction. twenty-six and thirty-four. not a bad age gap, only eight years. you could manage.

“you allowed to hit on me now,” you said playfully as you slid past him, “don’t make the shit corny, ‘cause i’ll laugh at yo ass.” maybe that’s his plan, you thought, him tryna laugh me out my panties.

the man let out a bark of a laugh, following after you. you could almost feel his eyes locked on you as your hips swayed while you walked. he only chuckled out, “oh, don’t worry about that.”

you went back behind the counter, ready to pay for their things. tsumiki had thrown a stack of bracelets on the counter, and a new tube of sparkly pink lip gloss to which you scanned and then only scanned a pack of the nails. her father raised an eyebrow at you, but you pretended not to notice. “that’ll be 18.75,” you informed. her father pulled out thirty dollars and slid it to you. as you prepared to give him the change, he shook his head.

“don’t need the change. consider it a tip or somethin’.” you furrowed your brows at him, but didn’t question the customer. instead, you handed them their things with a sweet smile. “bye, lil’ missy,” you told tsumiki, before looking up at the man, “come back soon.” your voice was low, and quite flirtatious. he gave you a smirk.

“oh, i will.”

and he did.

it was three days later when he finally came back. you were leaned over the counter, examining your new nails. it was hot, too hot to even be working. the doors were open, and the AC’s were blasting, trying to cool off the store. you wore a jean miniskirt, with a fat gucci belt on your hips. you paired it with a cropped pink tank top that had a deep v-neck, showing off a bit of your cleavage. your golden nameplate sat perfectly on the apex of your breasts. today on your feet instead of sandals were your pair of pink and white dunks. you had taken out your box braids, and gotten your hair done the same day you got your nails done.

now, you had gotten a lace front installed — and you looked good as fuck. it was a deep shade of vibrant purple, down your back. you had added your own spin, doing one of those heart shaped parts and gelling it down the side of your forehead, and doing edges on the side.

as someone entered, you turned your head to the side to greet them. “good afternoon,” you said cheerfully, looking at the woman who entered. she was dark skinned, with a bumped bob. her makeup was done sharply. you watched as she side eyed you, and muttered out a terse, “hello.”

immediately your eyebrows furrowed. “bitches got an attitude, okay,” you grumbled under your breath as she disappeared into the aisles. it was a few minutes later when she came to the register with a flat iron. off the rip, you told her, “oh mama, you don’t want this one. a few people who purchased this one have said that it heat up too quick and smoke a lot, then breaks. so go ‘head and get another one.”

the woman glared at you, looking you up and down. “excuse me, i didn’t ask for your opinion on what i’m buying. and if it’s so faulty, why haven’t you taken it off the shelves?”

her attitude immediately had you tilting your head, trying your best to bite your tongue. “ma’am, that ain’t my job, i don’t do merchandise, i work at the register.”

she rolled her eyes at you, before snapping out, “then don’t say anything about said merchandise.”

your next words came out before you could even think about it, “ho, i’m tryna help you not burn this crispy fuck ass bob off but okay.” upon realizing what you said, you didn’t apologize nor change. instead you cocked your head, tilting it, while staring at her blankly.

“excuse me?” the woman asked, “honestly, i don’t think i’m taking hair advice from a woman who don’t wear hers natural, and has her skirt digging up her ass. how old are you? you have to have a child at home, dress with more fucking class before you talk about me,” the woman’s face was twisted as she snapped at you.

“i know damn fuckin’ well,” you said slowly — and just like that, you knew you were about to cuss her ass out. “i know DAMN fucking well that you’re not talking to me like that. bitch, are you mad that your ass built like a fuckin’ square? bitch be mad then cause that’s why yo ass slope like y=mx+b. bitch, don’t you EVER question my fashion choices when you’re wearing leather in 87 degree weather. you fuckin’ cereal box built ass bitch, you know what, i got a trick for you—“ you quickly took the flat iron from her and pointed a nail at the door. “now get the fuck out, bitch you’re banned.” the woman opened her mouth to retort, but you were faster, talking over her, “bitch, i don’t give a FUCK. get the fuck out.”

the woman mumbled a, “ghetto bitch.” before storming out the store while you massaged your temples. it was nothing you hadn’t heard though. “fuck be wrong with bitches. man, i need a fucking BLUNT.”

“personally, i would’ve hopped over the counter.”

you looked up at the familiar voice, seeing the man you met the other day. immediately, a grin spread across your face. “look who came back.”

“told ‘ya that i would.” he mused, walking up to the counter, “you should’ve thrown the flat iron at her face. i would’ve paid money to see that.” he wore a white wifebeater and black basketball shorts. did he just come from the gym or something? the lack of clothing allowed you to see just about all of his muscles, and god, were you pleased.

you snorted, giving him a playful eyeroll. “shit, i was fuckin’ thinking about it. you saw the whole thing?” the mystery man, who you decided to dub mr. man, gave you a nod. “positively. you cleaned her so beautifully, and i have to add, you look so, so appealing when you’re angry.”

“shut up, nigga,” you laughed as you put your elbows on the counter, cupping your face with both hands. “what’re you here for?” you looked up at him, and he mimicked your action, fitting his fat ass arms on the counter.

“i need some hair gel for my son. he’s in this spiky phase, shit, i don’t know,” mr. man rolled his eyes a little bit, before adding, “and i don’t know which to pick. as you can clearly see, i don’t use gel.”

you let out another laugh, coming from behind the counter. “yeah, c’mon mr. man, i’ll show you which to use.” off the rip, you noticed how his eyes locked on your body.

yeah, i got it like that, nigga, your inner thoughts said as you internally hyped yourself up.

“mr.man?” he questioned from behind you, his eyes focused on the way your hips swayed, and the way a little bit of your ass was uncovered by the skirt.

“well, you never told me your name, so i gave you a nickname.”

he snorted a little before saying, “well, my name’s toji, for one.” you thought about it for a second for a second. was that a moanable name? you went through it in your head. yeah. definitely moanable.

“my name y/n,” you finally disclosed, “but everybody just call me n/n.” toji nodded a little. “n/n… that’s cute.” you noticed one of the items had fallen off the shelf, and without hesitation, you bent over to pick it up, completely forgetting about the fact that you were wearing a skirt, and the man behind you.

toji almost had a fucking heart attack. his eyes zoomed in onto your now slightly revealed ass, your sheer red panties that showed the plush outline of your pussy. shit. shit. it was over in a second, much to his mixed chagrin and gratefulness. however, he wasn’t some boy — he maintained a straight face and control. you placed the item back on the shelf and resumed walking.

“alright,” you said, as you reached the gels, “see, here’s what i use for my daughter,” you held up a jar of eco. “eco holds good for her, and it lasts long, to be honest. her hair is a bit thicker. and it doesn’t have like color residue like prostyle gel.” you grabbed the black container of prostyle gel. “but if your son has like brown-black hair, it’ll be good.” toji shook his head, saying, “nah, he has that weird bluish-black.” you tutted and put the prostyle down.

“there’s also gorilla snot gel, which i recommend if his hair is straighter, you feel me?” you held up the yellow bottle of gorilla snot.

toji looked at both and let out a short groan. “i can’t decide. i’ll take ‘em both and see which works better.” you shrugged and passed them to him. you took note of how positively huge his hands were. they could probably cover your whole face. or… your entire ass.

“i didn’t know you had a little runt too,” he made conversation with you as you walked back to the counter, “i forgot you’re almost 30.”

“yeah i forget too, trust,” you laughed a little, “my little girl’s my pride and joy, her name’s alaina. she’ll be starting first grade this year, i’m so proud of her. i actually got pictures.” you pulled out your phone and showed him your lockscreen which was the two of you. toji chuckled.

“y’all look alike, cute,” he commented, “my son’s seven, and tsumiki’s eight. you met her last time.” you fondly recalled your encounter with the polite young girl. “you a single parent, too?”

you gave him a nod, and a shrug. “alaina’s daddy claimed he wanted nothing to do with her, so i kept it like that. then his stupid ass got locked up, thank riddance.” toji let out a short laugh. “tsumiki’s mom was my first wife, and we divorced. megumi, my son, his mom was my second. unfortunately, she passed.”

“aw,” you said, pouting sadly and placing a hand on his large arm. “i’m so sorry for your loss, sweetheart. i hope you’re doing alright.”

toji laughed a little. “i’m fine, pretty mama, don’t worry about me.”

you bristled at the new nickname, giving toji a wicked grin. “that’s how you referring to me now?” you asked, as you slid behind the counter to the register.

“you’re pretty, and you’re a mama,” toji said with a shrug. “it honestly only fits.” you very pointedly made sure to check him out and said, “mmhmm..”

as you rung him up, toji said, “does alaina need any new friends? my son’s a bit shy and doesn’t talk to nobody but his sister… maybe they could have a few play dates?”

“yeah, i’d love that!” you answered, a genuine smile coming onto your face. anything referring to your daughter made you happiest. “your total is 14.95. here i’ll give you my number...” as toji paid, you rang it up. on his receipt, you wrote your number and passed it to him.

toji grinned and gave you a nod. “see you around.” you wiggled your fingers in return.

see him around, you did. you and toji were quick to hook up play dates whenever your schedules aligned. you became familiar with the routine of getting off work in the afternoons and scooping alaina’s to head to toji’s to play with her two new best friends.

you and toji often stayed downstairs, while they played in tsumiki’s room. you and toji would watch movies, roll blunts and eat food — or sometimes even play texas hold ‘em, in which you won every single time.

toji would grumble, and accuse you of cheating, when in truth, he was really just a bad gambler, but all was well. you considered toji a good friend… of sorts.

because that’s what you two were; friends. friends who sometimes flirted a little; you considered toji a friend when you’d bend over to pick things up in those skimpy jean shorts you wore; toji considered you a friend when he’d slide past you, pressing his crotch against the curve of your ass and muttering a, “excuse me, n/n,”; you considered toji a friend when you’d play sexyyred and say the lyrics a little too… forceful; and he considered you a friend when he’d make slick little sexy comments about your body before adding, “that’s just what other guys think.”

safe to say… there was a bit of tension between you two. and finally, it came to a crescendo.

it was normal, at first. like usual, you and alaina were at toji's house. it was around 9:30pm, and the kids had collapsed after playing all damn day and finally having a meal of chicken nuggets. you remembered the look on your face discovered them. they were heaped in the large bed; tsumiki had more than enough room for all three of them, yet they were together. alaina was draped over megumi and tsumiki, her face in megumi’s chest but her body pressed to tsumiki’s. they were all tangled up, limbs skewed and whatnot.

and now, you and toji were together downstairs, toji watching as your nimble fingers crafted the blunt — his were too fat. your feet were in his lap, and he was watching you with those bright green eyes. as you rolled, you were mumbling one of sexyy’s songs. “fuck me like you mad at me, baby.. i need that dick to drive me crazyyyyy…” you sang under your breath.

toji raised an eyebrow at you, “the music you listen to has some really… meaningful words.” as you licked at the blunt, you let out a laugh. “i agree with everything she say. when suki said that if you ain’t eating coochie, you ain’t fucking, i felt that one.”

finally, you perfected it and grabbed toji’s lighter. “you only fuck eaters?” he said, amusement trickling through his voice. you lit the blunt and took a deep inhale, masterfully blowing it up into your nose and then out again before passing it to him. “yup. only fuck eaters ‘cause they do it the best. you an eater, toji?” you asked pointedly, watching as one of his rough hands drew circles on your leg, then up to your knee, while the other lifted the blunt to his lips. he took an inhale, then another. god, you hated double hitters, but it was okay — it was only you two.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” toji shot back, his trademark smirk sliding across his face. his lip twitched, scar jumping.

“that’s why the fuck i asked you, toji,” you clapped back immediately, making the older man squeeze your leg while passing the blunt back. “watch your mouth, n/n. don’t get fucked up.”

“or what?” you immediately retort, holding the blunt up to your lips as you took another puff. “you not gon’ do shit to me, toji, like i honestly wish you w—“ your words were halted by the man throwing your legs off his lap, one hand going to spread them roughly as he pressed his fingers against your clothed cunt.

“i’m not gonna do shit?” he repeated, as your eyes went wide; he had obviously startled you, but you weren’t opposed to this one bit. as his fingers rubbed at your pussy through your shorts, you shook your head feverently again, looking at him as you held the blunt to your glossed lips. “not a damn thing.”

when all toji did was nod, you were sure you were in for it. and you were. he was quicker than you, grabbing your hand that held the blunt and quickly forcing you to put the blunt in the ashtray. the smoke you were holding in your mouth was forcefully removed as toji roughly pressed his lips to yours, the smoke being shared between you two as he pried your lips apart.

the next few minutes were coated in a needy haze. his big hands were everywhere, all over your body. moving to squeeze at your tits, your ass, your thighs. eventually the settled on the waistband of your shorts and began to unbutton them. before pulling them off completely, leaving you in your lacy dark blue thong.

he pinched the plush of your pussy, barely hidden by the panties — more like decorated by it. immediately, the scent of your slick, which was already dripping, filled toji’s nostrils, making him let out a wanton moan.

“fuck, mama,” he hissed as he trailed his finger down your slit, “you always this wet? this is how you’ve been the entire time?” he looked up at you, eyes darkened with lust.

“no,” you lied immediately, giving him a reckless smirk. “she just like that off the rip. i determine whether it’s for you or not.” toji only let out a little laugh. “word?” he asked. you opened your mouth to repeat the word back to him, but you were rudely interrupted by him slapping your pussy.

it wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t exactly soft, the pain sending sparks of pleasure through you. you hissed out a, “shit..” toji smirked at your reaction as he pushed your panties to the side, before delivering another smack, this time a litle harder. you let out a mewl, squirming in his hold.

“crazy,” toji said to you, “two lil’ slaps just made you leagues wetter. you sure you’re not wet for me?”

you refused to answer, only giving him a shrug. “so you wanna be a brat now, huh?” he asked you with an eyebrow raise as he began to pull the panties down your thighs. “like you weren’t jus’ all over me. ‘toji, you a eater?’” he mocked you in a high pitched voice as he pulled you forward, legs sliding over his broad shoulders. you remained silent, biting your tongue. maybe you were a brat; you knew that with toji’s strength and stamina, you would get much more if you drew it out. plus, you wanted to make him work for every moan, every word.

“you gon eat my pussy or not?” you asked boldly, your hand going to lace through his hair, nails pressing against his scalp. “like literally, shut the f—!” you were interrupted by toji latching his mouth onto you, completely ripping the words from your mouth.

his tongue, long and flat, slid between your plush folds, calloused hands digging into your thighs as he shoved his face between your legs. off the rip, his motions were rough and quick, tongue swirling against your clit before going down to your hole, curling against it to lap at your essence. you gripped the couch as you let out soft moans, trying not to be too loud — you didn’t wanna fuel toji’s already large ego.

“fuck,” he mumbled as he pulled away, “pussy’s so sweet, baby. i should’ve bent you over in that fucking store the day you wore that skirt.” you were unable to respond before he was diving back in, tongue messily trailing througu your pussy. he was there between your thighs, feasting on what you offered, lapping up all the sweet nectar you had to spare. his lips latched onto the delicate bud of your clit, sucking with a fervor that left you gasping, while he looked up at you with a gaze that was as heated as it was prideful.

one of your hands found its way into his hair, tangling in the soft locks as you gripped it tightly, the other clutching onto the plush fabric of the couch as though it was your only lifeline. your breaths were coming out in ragged gasps, each one harder to catch than the last, your mouth falling open in that perfect 'o' shape as you let out sounds so sweet and melodious, singing a song of pure pleasure just for him.

and you couldn’t help it; euphoria was pulsing through your body, coating your thoughts in nothing but toji. your toes curled, as toji slid his tongue inside of you. god, he was so messy, your slick already all over his face, his spit mixing with your slick as it trailed down your ass.

you were incessantly moaning, unable to even downplay or disguise it anymore. “s-shit, toji, fuck, that feels so good—!” he looked up at you with satisfaction as he slid his tongue into your entrance, curling it upwards against your walls.

you squealed, trying to scoot backwards away from the pleasure, but he was quick to yank you back, trapping you against his mouth, his hands coming to wrap around your thighs. one of his fingers traced the stretch marks on your thighs. he worked his fat tongue inside of you, curling and sliding as his pointer finger swirled your clit at such a fast pace, you was sure he was gonna give you something close to a rug burn.

his paired actions had you spiraling over the edge, the coil in your stomach stretching and stretching until it was ready to snap. “toji, ‘m close—! fuck, fuck— gonna cum!” toji’s movements became much more insistent, gaining in speed as he basically shoved you over the edge.

your orgasm hit you like a brick, your back arching off the couch as you gripped toji’s hair tightly, whined babbles of repeated words leaving your lips. if it weren’t for toji holding you down and anchoring you, you were sure that you would’ve grown fucking wings and soared away.

you creamed all over his tongue, and he made sure to pull away, before messily spreading it throughout your pussy, just to lap it all up over again, letting you settle, working you through the after effects of your climax.

you sucked in ragged gasps as toji pulled away, licking his lips and wiping his face. he stared at you with such intensity, shivers went down your skin. your eyes immediately focused on his hard dick through his sweats, the outline prominent. you tapped your foot on his thigh. “gimme that,” you breathed.

“do you deserve it?” toji said back, his voice a bit raspy. “been a bratty slut this whole time. you were so cocky, remember? i don’t get you wet, right?”

you wanted to maintain your pride, you really, really did. but desperate times called for desperate measures. “c’mon, toji,” you sighed sultrily, “i was just playin’.. just wanted to make it a little fun for you, you know that..” you spread your legs a little more, teasing him as you continued, “it’s all yours, i swear — been waiting for this for such a long time.”

toji only gave you a soft chuckle and the only words gave you were, “that right, baby?” immediately, he scooped you up with a single arm, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. you let out a noise of surprise, but immediately arched your back, looking back at him as he pushed his sweats down his thighs. his dick sprung up, and you couldn’t say you were shocked by it.

his dick was both fat and long, and it almost made your eyes pop out of your head. he had to be at least eight inches, veins running up the side of his heavy dick. his tip was a dark apricot shade, and it was leaking bad, opaque beads of precum sliding out of his slit. he was well trimmed, with heavy breeder balls. you almost salivated. but at the same time, you questioned how all that was even supposed to fit in you.

he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “don’t you worry, princess. you’ll take every inch of me.” one of his hands gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks apart as he directed his tip against your entrance, slapping it there a few times, making you groan in need. “t-toji, stop fuckin’ playin—!”

once again, you were rudely interrupted by him pushing the tip inside of you. he let out a hiss, your walls sucking him in. however, with just how wet you were, he slid right back out. he let out a snicker as he leaned his hand down to slap your pussy again. “but you not wet for me, alright..” he lined himself up again, and this time — he didn’t push into you slowly.

with one rough thrust, he filled you to the brim, forcing you forward as you let out a strangled noise, clawing at the couch. “toji! oh fuck..!” you pulled your hips forward, trying to get him to pull out a little, but he wasn’t having it. “s-shit, i’m not even all the way in yet,” he huffed, hair hanging in his eyes. toji was letting out pants, it felt as if your pussy was fucking suffocating his dick, strangling it.

inch by inch, he pushed the rest of his dick in, until the plush of your ass was nestled against his pelvis and stomach. he yanked at his shirt, pulling it off of his body. your slick was already coating him, dripping down to his balls. you were a mess, mewling just from him entering. you felt so full — his dick stuffing you better than you ever had been before. and it was driving you out your mind.

toji didn’t wait for you to adjust. with one hand on your ass, thumb rubbing against the ridges and dimples, and the other lacing through purple hair, toji pulled all the way out, and then slammed all the way back in. the force of his motions shoved you down into the couch, and immediately you let out a cry of, “t-toji! slow down!”

but slowing down wasn’t apart of his agenda. he rasped out, “nah, this is what you wanted, baby. so take it. take my dick like a good fuckin’ girl.” he began snapping his hips into you, the veins on his dick dragging against your walls just right. your cunt clamped down on him every time he tried to pull out, as if it was forcing him to make your cunt his new home.

toji was mesmerized by the way your ass jiggled and clapped with every movement he made, the sound of your skin slapping filling the air. he slapped your ass hard and then squeezed, making you squeal once more. “fuck, look at you. bouncing this ass back on my dick so good..”

at his praise, you looked back at him before proudly twerking back on his dick, putting on a little show. he laughed, his hand trailing from your hair to snake around your throat. “such a fuckin’ slut,” he said gruffly, before pulling his hips back so that only the tip was inside before ramming his dick back inside of you.

you felt him nudge against your cervix, and you let out a noise close to a scream, while his hand tightened around your throat. tears filled your eyes at the pain, your lashes beginning to slide. “you’re gonna wake up the kids, princess. wouldn’t want them to come down to seeing you getting fucked like some whore, right? keep that pretty mouth quiet.” he leaned down, chest pressing against your back as he curled his much larger body against yours. “but not too quiet. wanna hear you lose your fucking brain over this dick.”

his other hand came to wrap around your throat, and he began to jack hammer into you, slamming you on his dick over and over. your eyes rolled back, a mix of pain and pleasure twisting through you, that coil getting ready to snap again. “t-toji…” you slurred out, “g-gonna fuckin’ cum again…!”

“so fucking do it,” toji hissed as your clenching began to get more intense. “paint my shit, baby.” his voice was sending shivers down your spine, aiding your increasing pleasure. you let out ragged moans into the couch as your body trembled, pussy spasming wildly around his dick as you came a second time.

he didn’t slow down through your orgasm, instead, he went faster, if that was even humanly possible. he pressed down on your head, forcing your face into the couch, and pressing on your belly simultaneously. it forced you to have a deeper arch, but it also made you feel just how deep he was inside of you. pressing his big hand against your stomach to feel his bulge had toji grinning.

you were a wreck, tears sliding down your face, your lashes long fallen of. you were pretty sure your lace had peeled, but you didn’t care. you could barely think, barely form coherent sentences with how toji was fucking you. and he knew it. he knew he reduced you to a mess, and he wasn’t even halfway finished with you.

soon, he felt his orgasm coming, and he let out a deep groan. “shit.. where do you want my cum, doll? ‘m getting close..” you were quick to whine out, “i-inside, toji.. want you to cum inside…!”

“haah!” he grunted out with a smirk, “want me to fill you up, huh? want me to stuff you full with my cum? yeah, i bet you fucking do, look at you.”

“toji, toji, toji, fuckkk.. want your babies, c’mon, make me a mama again—!” toji laughed shakily at your dumb response, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “fuck yeah, dollface. you better not spill not one drop, alright?” he let out a strangled moan as he released, his thick cum filling her to the walls.

you sucked in harsh breaths, finally feeling relieved after toji’s constant fucking stopped. he seemed to slow down, gently fucking his load into you. you began to relax… however you were sorely mistaken.

“you thought i was done with you?” toji asked as he gripped you, flipping you over so that he could see your face. you looked a mess, but you were so, so pretty. your eyes were watery, face with tear trails all over. your lips were bruised from how much you’d been biting them. at least your hair was still intact… for now. toji leaned down and pressed a kiss to your jawline, down to your throat. he yanked at the top you wore, and when it didn’t want to cooperate, he ripped it and peeled it off of you himself. “toji, my shirt….” you whimpered but he dismissively waved a hand. “you’ll get one of mine.” he reached behind you, unclipping your bra and letting your tits spring free.

his big hands almost swallowed them as he began to leave bites and kisses all over your throat, collarbone and chest. “can’t possibly be done with you,” he said against your skin, “been waiting to fuck you like this since i laid eyes on you, doll.”

he left a plethora of hickies on your skin, very obviously marking you as his. you were still speared on his dick, and he began to roll his hips languidly inside of you, curving into your g-spot repeatedly. the feeling had you seeing stars as he gripped your legs and pulled them around his waist. with each thrust, he began to get more forceful and speed up, until once more, he was pounding your insides.

your nails went to his back, scratching, making toji wince in pain as his hips collided with yours. three of your nails had broken off. a third time, you felt yourself reach your climax once more, but it felt different. painful almost, with the last your clit throbbed. you managed to push away the toji-shaped clouds in your brain and realized.

“t-toji—! toji, ‘m gonna squirt!” you cried out as you twisted in his hold, the pleasure becoming overwhelming for you. “t-toji—!” he only smirked at you, yanking you closer. “make a mess f’me, mama. wanna see you get all messy… c’mon, c’mon, make that pretty pussy squirt on my dick.” he pressed another messy kiss to your lips as his hand snuck down to rub your clit, forcing more pleasure into your system. you let out a ruined, gasped noise — like you wanted to scream but couldn’t get it out. clear liquid gushed from you, coating toji’s lower half, some of his abdomen and the couch.

you were in too much of a haze to notice that soon after, toji came inside of you a second time. he didn’t pull out at first, instead opting to lay his head against your sweaty skin, pressing kisses. he realized that you would be completely gone for a bit, after that, so he was gentler with you. he pulled out, watching his cum slowly dribble from your hole after the two creampies he gave you. not wanting you to sit in your own fluids, picked you up and brought you to his room, putting you one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers before tucking you in.

he went back downstairs, eyes locked on the mess you made on the couch. a soft whistle escaped as he plucked your lashes off the sofa and put them on the table.

you probably wouldn’t become his girlfriend yet; but you damn for sure weren’t going anywhere now.

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kwanisms · 1 year

Text

[1:58], Yeonjun & Soobin, requested by anon

╰┈➤ M1 "what? Does that feel good?" & M30 "I promise I'll be gentle"

wc: 1.2k

warnings: smut, 18+ (minors dni), adult language sexual content: threesome, unprotected sex

a/n: I have no excuse lmao pls enjoy this Yeonbin content cause I loved writing it

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

You had only meant to check on Yeonjun; to make sure he didn't need a touch up on his makeup. What you didn't expect to happen was for him to make a move.

Ever since you'd become their makeup artist for international events, Yeonjun couldn't deny his attraction to you. He flirted with you often but each time you brushed it off, trying to remain professional. The other artists no doubt had told you that he was just being himself. But he wasn't. He wasn't just playing around. Not with you.

He'd finally managed to catch you alone backstage at Inkigayo in the dressing room as you finished cleaning up. He'd finally made a move, pushing you against the makeup table, his lips crashing against yours. Initially, you'd given in before coming to your senses and pushing him off, reminding him that nothing could ever happen between the two of you.

You tried so hard to ignore his attempts to get you alone after that but he somehow managed to corner you and each time it got harder and harder to resist him. Which is how you found yourself in your current… predicament.

Your skirt was hiked up, panties discarded on the floor of the hotel room, Yeonjun sat on the edge of the bed under you, his black pants undone and pushed halfway down his thighs along with his underwear. Your hands rested on his shoulders, breath shaky as you slowly raised and lowered your hips, his cock sliding in and out of you. Your eyed fluttered shut, a soft moan leaving your lips as you continued.

You felt his hands slide down your back, gripping your ass firmly. "Goddamn," he murmured, lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. "You don't know what you do to me." His hot breath fanned over your skin as he guided your movements with his hold on your ass. "You're gonna get me in trouble," you whispered, voice shaking as the tip of his cock brushed against the one spot that had your eyes rolling back.

Opening your eyes, you looked down at him, his black hair falling in his eyes as he looked up at you through heavy lids. You moved one hand to brush the hair out of his vision. "God, you're so beautiful," he moaned. Your walls clenched around him, drawing another deep moan from the back of his throat.

"Jjun," you whined, head falling and your forehead resting against his. You felt his hand make contact with your ass, forcing a hiss out of your lips as your walls clenched around him. You heard him chuckled lightly.

“What? Does that feel good?”

A sudden knock at the door caused your head to snap up. You froze, unable to move or react before the door opened and shut quickly. Light footsteps moved through the suit until Soobin came into view. His eyes widened and jaw dropped. The three of you said nothing, only staring at one another until a smile cracked across Soobin's face.

"I fucking knew it," he said, a dark chuckle escaping from his lips. You looked down at Yeonjun who glanced up at you. Your gaze turned back to Soobin who ran his fingers through his hair.

"I mean, I sort of suspected something was going on but obviously this confirms it," he continued, rambling.

You looked back at him, watching as he shook his head, his blond locks falling into his eyes. Eyes scanning him, you noticed that what he'd walked in on was affecting him, even if he wouldn't admit it. That's when an idea popped in your head.

Turning back to Yeonjun you leaned in to whisper in his ear.

Yeonjun's eyes widened at what you were suggesting. He pulled back to look at you questioningly. You nodded at his silent question and a devilish smirk crossed his features. He turned his head to look at the younger man. "Hey, Soob," he said softly, drawing the blond's attention.

Yeonjun nodded towards the door. "Lock the door," he said, the smirk still present on his face. Soobin looked from his hyung to you. A small smirk was present on your face, too.

Was Yeonjun suggesting what he thought he was? He turned quickly and crossed to the door leading to the hallway, turning the deadbolt and moving the chain before returning to where you and Yeonjun sat.

Yeonjun was the first to speak. He looked at Soobin. "Take out your phone," he ordered. Soobin's eyebrow raised as he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Text Gyu. Tell him you aren't feeling well. Lie, I don't care," he explained. Soobin unlocked the device and quickly typed out a message to Beomgyu.

Yeonjun turned to look at you.

"Hey princess," he whispered, moving one hand to caress your cheek. "Keep going," he said, giving your ass a light smack. You gasped, lifting your hips and sinking back down on him, a groan leaving his lips.

Soobin felt his cheeks burn, unable to take his eyes off the scene in front of him. You glanced over your shoulder, a light laugh escaping you.

"You just gonna stand there and watch?" You asked, drawing his attention. Clearly, he was confused and looked to Yeonjun for clarification.

"W-what?" Soobin stammered.

Yeonjun chuckled and looked over at the younger man. He nodded towards Soobin. "Take off your belt and come over here. I have an idea," he said.

Soobin moved quickly, reaching to undo his belt and followed Yeonjun's instructions, walking over to the bed as you continued to ride Yeonjun. Soobin waited for more instructions.

"Take your belt and bind her hands," Yeonjun said, nodding at the belt in the blond's hands. Soobin hesitated but at Yeonjun's insistence, took your hands behind your back and carefully used his belt to bind your wrists together.

"Done," Soobin said shakily.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, Yeonjun scooted further back onto the bed, pulling you with him, making space for Soobin. "Get on the bed and do what I tell you," Yeonjun ordered as Soobin slowly climbed onto the bed. The older man gently took your chin in his hand and turned your head to look at him.

"Eyes on me, baby," he whispered as you felt Soobin's hands carefully ghost over your body, sliding down your sides and grabbing your hips much harder than you expected him to. You let out a moan as Yeonjun thrust up into you. "Just keep your eyes on me," he whispered as you felt Soobin's lips brush against your shoulder.

The sensation of having two sets of hands on your body was heavenly. You let out a whimper, feeling Soobin's teeth sink into your skin, your walls tightening around Yeonjun's cock and pulling a deep guttural groan from him. "Go easy on her, Soob," Yeonjun said, attempting to regain his composure.

“I promise I’ll be gentle,” you heard Soobin murmur, his lips still against your skin as he fumbled with the button and zipper of his pants with one hand while the other held onto your hip.

Yeonjun looked up, reaching up to cup your cheek. The pad of his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, watching as your lips parted. His smile returned as he slowly pushed his thumb into your mouth, almost moaning when your tongue swirled around it. "Oh," he said breathlessly.

"You're in for a long night, sugar."

#txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt timestamps #txt smut #txt x reader #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun timestamps #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #soobin scenarios #soobin imagines #soobin timestamps #soobin smut #soobin x reader #kwanisms timestamp event

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theabigailthorn · 3 months

Note

so sorry if this is a weird q, but I absolutely love the way your lipstick looks in your pictures. do you have any tips? I can never get mine to look that way at all

In a lot of the pictures you might have seen from premieres and stuff the answer is "A professional makeup artist did it"

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astrojulia · 1 year

Text

Tarot Cards as Professions

Navigation: Masterlist✦Ask Rules✦Feedback Tips

Askbox✦Sources✦Paid Readings

Major Arcanas:

The Fool: Work with abroad, connections with imports, language teacher, multinationals, entrepreneur, intern, college student, art major.

The Magician: Entrepreneur, job that needs skill with the hands (acupuncture, hairdresser, artisan), actor, salesperson, influencer.

The High Priestess: Education, especially children, nutrition, psychology, cook, housewife, food engineering, toy factory, fortuneteller, spiritual advisor, librarian.

The Empress: Management, business administration, foreign trade, secretariat, translation, decoration, stay-at-home mom, model, cook, farmer.

The Emperor: Business administration, work related to areas of technological innovation, the military or sportsmen, CEO, tycoon.

The Hierophant: Philanthropic areas, ONGs, religious work, social work, diplomacy, and a degree, journalism, writer, editor, priest, spiritual guru, politician.

The Lovers: Sales area in any sector, tourism, theater, advertising, the arts in general, porn star, stripper, masseuse.

The Chariot: Activities related to transport, cars, the latest technology, chauffeur, mechanic, athlete.

Strength: Aesthetics, physical education and various body therapies, medicine, zoologist.

The Hermit: Teacher, writer, doctor, antique dealer, restorer, librarian, gardener.

Wheel of Fortune: Financial market, exchange offices, casinos, lottery houses, stock exchanges, and areas related to public relations, hospitality, game show host.

Justice: Public jobs, won through competitions, politics, police, with government positions, in the diplomatic area, law, insurance company worker.

The Hanged Man: Nurse, auditor, inspector, porter, secretariat, general assistants, yoga instructor, prison guard, philanthropist.

Death: Doctor, farmer, geologist, business administrator, gardener, accountant, assassin, death row executioner, surgeon.

Temperance: Working with liquids in general or with what is transported in liquid form such as alcoholic beverages, medicines, juices. chemist, chef, food critic, regional or even international traffic.

The Devil: Does not limit the individual to a professional wing, so he can also go to extremes for the desire he has, such as landlord, drug lord, sex trafficker.

The Tower: Social assistance, humanitarian aid, medicine, firefighter, police officer, construction worker.

The Star: Music, painting, sculpture, poetry, cinema, makeup artist, dressmaker, beautician, agent, promoter, sound artist, astronomer, harpist, dealer, meteorologist.

The Moon: Oceanographers, sailors, fishermen, owners of bars and restaurants or nightclubs, artists in general, medium, hypnotist, psychiatrist.

The Sun: Motivational speaker, entertainer, comedian, social relationships, work with the public, artist in general, member of society.

Judgment: Work done at home, connection with the law, lawyer, judge, work with disabled or people excluded from society, social assistance, board member, executive producer, director.

The World: Pharmacist, massage therapist, scientist, teacher, community leader, religious leader or priest, fashion designer, makeup artist, interior decorator.

Wands:

Creative industries such as advertising, marketing, and graphic design.

Entrepreneurship and starting your own business.

Athletics, sports coaching, or physical training.

Outdoor jobs like park ranger or tour guide.

Event planning or organizing.

Firefighters or rescue workers.

Ace of Wands: Entrepreneur, startup founder, motivational speaker, fitness coach, personal trainer.

Two of Wands: Business strategist, project manager, travel agent, international consultant, import/export specialist.

Three of Wands: Sales representative, marketing manager, e-commerce entrepreneur, market researcher, international trade coordinator.

Four of Wands: Event planner, wedding coordinator, party organizer, festival manager, hospitality industry professional.

Five of Wands: Conflict resolution specialist, mediator, lawyer, debate coach, competitive sports coach.

Six of Wands: Public relations manager, spokesperson, social media influencer, motivational speaker, winning athlete.

Seven of Wands: Defense attorney, human rights activist, political campaigner, advocate, civil liberties lawyer.

Eight of Wands: Courier, delivery driver, airline pilot, travel blogger, expedition guide.

Nine of Wands: Security guard, bodyguard, soldier, endurance athlete, self-defense instructor.

Ten of Wands: Overworked entrepreneur, project manager, event organizer, professional organizer, heavy equipment operator.

Page of Wands: Assistant in a creative field, aspiring artist, intern in a startup, social media coordinator, apprentice.

Knight of Wands: Travel journalist, adventure tour guide, professional athlete, race car driver, stunt performer.

Queen of Wands: CEO, business owner, charismatic leader, life coach, influential speaker.

King of Wands: Executive manager, entrepreneur, leadership coach, consultant, director of a creative agency.

Cups:

Counseling, therapy, or social work.

Hospitality industry, including restaurant management and bartending.

Wedding planner or event coordinator.

Artistic fields like poetry, writing, or acting.

Healing professions such as nursing or holistic therapy.

Psychologist or counselor specializing in emotions and relationships.

Ace of Cups: Therapist, counselor, social worker, holistic healer, emotional support specialist.

Two of Cups: Marriage counselor, matchmaker, relationship coach, wedding planner, love psychic.

Three of Cups: Event organizer, party planner, celebratory event coordinator, community organizer.

Four of Cups: Meditation teacher, mindfulness coach, spiritual counselor, psychologist, therapist.

Five of Cups: Grief counselor, trauma therapist, hospice worker, emotional healing practitioner, bereavement support.

Six of Cups: Child psychologist, teacher, daycare worker, children's book author, pediatric nurse.

Seven of Cups: Creative writer, fantasy novelist, imaginative artist, dream analyst, visionary.

Eight of Cups: Travel blogger, adventure seeker, spiritual pilgrim, explorer, wanderlust photographer.

Nine of Cups: Life coach, happiness consultant, gratitude coach, self-help author, wellness retreat organizer.

Ten of Cups: Family therapist, marriage and family counselor, foster care advocate, wedding planner, family mediator.

Page of Cups: Creative writer, artist in training, intuitive healer, aspiring therapist, dream interpreter.

Knight of Cups: Actor, romantic poet, musician, art therapist, love and relationship coach.

Queen of Cups: Psychic reader, intuitive healer, counselor, compassionate caregiver, therapist.

King of Cups: Therapist, counselor, intuitive mentor, emotional intelligence trainer, psychologist.

Swords:

Legal professions like lawyers, judges, or law enforcement officers.

Journalists, reporters, or investigators.

IT specialists, computer programmers, or hackers.

Teachers or professors specializing in critical thinking or philosophy.

Military or defense-related careers.

Strategic planners or analysts.

Ace of Swords: Lawyer, judge, legal consultant, investigative journalist, strategic planner.

Two of Swords: Mediator, conflict resolution specialist, negotiator, diplomat, relationship counselor.

Three of Swords: Divorce lawyer, grief counselor, trauma therapist, emotional healer, heart surgeon.

Four of Swords: Rest and relaxation specialist, meditation teacher, spiritual retreat organizer, yoga instructor.

Five of Swords: Military strategist, competitive sports coach, lawyer specializing in litigation, debate coach.

Six of Swords: Travel agent, relocation consultant, therapist specializing in transitions, boat captain.

Seven of Swords: Private investigator, spy, intelligence analyst, cybersecurity expert, undercover agent.

Eight of Swords: Social justice lawyer, human rights advocate, disability rights activist, therapist specializing in limiting beliefs.

Nine of Swords: Insomnia specialist, anxiety therapist, nightmare counselor, sleep coach, mental health counselor.

Ten of Swords: Surgeon, coroner, forensic scientist, mortician, grief counselor.

Page of Swords: Researcher, journalist, fact-checker, apprentice in a legal field, investigative reporter.

Knight of Swords: Military officer, police officer, attorney, competitive fencer, conflict resolution specialist.

Queen of Swords: Judge, lawyer, critic, journalist, literary agent.

King of Swords: Judge, attorney, CEO, strategist, military general.

Pentacles:

Financial advisors or investment bankers.

Real estate agents or property developers.

Agriculture, farming, or gardening.

Architects, builders, or construction workers.

Conservationists or environmentalists.

Accountants or bookkeepers.

Ace of Pentacles: Financial advisor, investment banker, wealth manager, entrepreneur, luxury goods retailer.

Two of Pentacles: Financial analyst, accountant, bookkeeper, event planner, stock trader.

Three of Pentacles: Architect, contractor, project manager, teamwork facilitator, craftsman.

Four of Pentacles: Wealth manager, investor, financial planner, asset protection specialist, treasurer.

Five of Pentacles: Social worker, philanthropist, charity organizer, financial counselor, volunteer.

Six of Pentacles: Philanthropist, humanitarian worker, non-profit manager, social worker, charitable fundraiser.

Seven of Pentacles: Gardener, farmer, agricultural consultant, sustainability expert, botanist.

Eight of Pentacles: Craftsperson, artisan, apprentice, skilled tradesperson, technical trainer.

Nine of Pentacles: Luxury brand manager, independent business owner, successful entrepreneur, vineyard owner, art collector.

Ten of Pentacles: Real estate developer, property investor, family business owner, generational wealth manager, financial advisor.

Page of Pentacles: Intern, student, apprentice in a practical field, aspiring entrepreneur, entry-level employee.

Knight of Pentacles: Accountant, financial planner, farmer, skilled tradesperson, meticulous worker.

Queen of Pentacles: CEO, business owner, property developer, hospitality industry entrepreneur, financial advisor.

King of Pentacles: CEO, business mogul, successful investor, high-level executive, financial consultant.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

#tarot #tarot tips #tarot meanings #divination #cards #witch #witchcraft #witchblr #astroblr #career #astrojulia #all about tarot #tarot witch #major arcana #minor arcana #tarot and career

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kyujism · 10 months

Text

credit › @jihyoruri ! this is heavily inspired so please read theirs first :) they were the ones with the original idea!

synopsis › hanni and y/n are both gucci ambassadors and have amazing chemistry. Some of their fans even create clips of them.

warnings › none this just a drabble

pairing › hanni pham x gucci ambassador idol!reader

Clip 1: The Fashion Frenzy

Yn and Hanni were in the bustling backstage of a Gucci fashion show. Surrounded by models, designers, and a whirlwind of activity, they exchange excited glances. Yn, with her impeccable eye for detail, notices Hanni’s Gucci scarf.

Yn: "Hanni, your Gucci scarf is on wrong.. Let me help you adjust it just right wait."

Hanni: Y/nnn! You always have an eye for those perfect details. calm down a little."

They share a quick laugh, their energy contagious, as they prepare to take their seats front row.

Clip 2: The Glamorous Getaway

Yn and Hanni, dressed in head-turning Gucci outfits, step out of a sleek black limousine onto the red carpet of a star-studded event. Flashing cameras capture their every move as they strike confident poses, showcasing their unique styles. With an air of elegance, they link arms and gracefully make their way inside, ready to set the night on fire. They were always known for their graceful poses together their walks and photoshoots never miss!

Yn: "Hanni, can you believe we're walking this red carpet together? We're living the Gucci dream!"

Hanni: "Absolutely! We're the ultimate dynamic duo, ready to conquer the fashion world. Let's make a statement tonight!"

With an air of elegance, they link arms and gracefully make their way inside, ready to set the night on fire.

Clip 3: Going Live - Behind the Scenes

Yn and Hanni take their followers on a journey behind the scenes of a Gucci photoshoot. The camera follows them as they mingle with the crew, showcasing the intricate details that go into creating a stunning fashion campaign.

Yn: "Welcome to the set! Today, we're giving you an exclusive sneak peek into the world of fashion photography."

Hanni: "It's not just about posing and looking pretty. There's a whole team working together to bring the vision to life."

Yn and Hanni chat with the photographers, stylists, and makeup artists, offering glimpses into their creative process and the collaborative efforts that make a fashion shoot come alive. They giggled trying to act as professional as they could.

“To bring the vision to life!” Y/n teases Hanni mimicking her voice not realizing the camera was on her..

“Oh sh-” The clip cuts off suddenly but u can hear Hanni at the end trying to cover Y/n’s mouth

Clip 4: Fashion Haul

Yn and Hanni sit in a cozy corner of a luxurious Gucci boutique, surrounded by shopping bags and designer pieces. They excitedly go live to share their latest fashion haul with their fans.

Yn: "Hello, everyonee! We are here by gucci to promoted their latest bags and fashion clothing. Get ready to see some incredible pieces."

As they unveil each item, Hanni discusses her styling ideas, Y/n offers fashion tips, and they both engage with their audience, creating an interactive and exciting experience for their followers.

These additional scenes focus on Yn and Hanni's live appearances, allowing them to interact with their fans, share fashion insights, and give exclusive behind-the-scenes glimpses into the world of Gucci ambassadors.

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art · 2 years

Photo

Creator Spotlight: @kevinbparry

Kevin Parry is a stop-motion animator and visual effects artist in Toronto, Canada, who creates magical and mind-bending content for brands. Prior to working in social media full-time, he animated a number of stop-motion feature films at Portland-based LAIKA.

Check out our interview with Kevin below!

How did you get your start in stop motion and animation in general?

I was always very interested in moviemaking (monster makeup and visual effects), and that led to me studying animation in college, where I specialized in stop-motion.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

The shift to shorter content through social media feeds has made me approach storytelling in a more concise way. When I first started my career, ‘short form’ meant a story maybe 4 minutes in length. Now, I make videos that are as short as 4 seconds!

Over the years as an animator, who/what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I’m a big fan of directors and artists who have a bit more texture to their work - blending old-school, handcrafted techniques with modern technology. Filmmakers like Michel Gondry and Wes Anderson. And, of course, magicians! The surprise and delight of magic is something I try to capture in my work.

If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?

That I left them feeling stumped and curious about how I made it! It’s the best feeling when someone tells me they watched my video a dozen times and still can’t figure it out.

As we’re wrapping up with the year, what is one thing you learnt about yourself as a creator in 2022? Any goals for 2023?

This year, I’ve been focusing on making my work less polished. Meaning ditching green screens and doing a lot more of my stop-motion and visual effects in camera. It’s a bit of a battle with the perfectionist in me, but I think my work can have a lot more charm to it if I embrace mistakes and the rougher edges.

How did you transition from working for a company to working freelance?

I was working on stop-motion animated feature films at LAIKA and then eventually left to pursue social media full-time. There were a few years of overlap where I built up an audience and had already started to get offers from companies before finally making the leap. I’m thankful for all the years spent doing studio work because it prepared me for the business side of freelance—stuff like pitching concepts and understanding when work needs to serve the client and not myself.

Do you have any tips for creators out there looking to make the same move?

My two tips are:

Be as unique as possible. You want to give companies a reason to come to you, and not someone else.

Find a balance in your work between Hollywood and homemade. You want it to be professional enough that companies trust you with their brand but approachable enough that it blends in well on social media.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

To be honest, I’m new to Tumblr! I signed up a few weeks ago and have just begun to explore the fantastic content. If people can leave a comment with who I should check out, that would be fantastic!

Thank you for stopping by, Kevin! Be sure to check out more of their work over at @kevinbparry, and drop a comment below with who Kevin should check out on Tumblr!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #animators on tumblr #stop motion #kevin parry #laika studios

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azdskinandmakeup · 6 months

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Custom Facial Treatment Las Vegas

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mymakeuptips · 9 months

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My Makeup Tips and Tricks: Elevate Your Beauty Game

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#Makeup Tips and Tricks #Professional Makeup Tips #Makeup Artist Techniques #Makeup Tricks #Makeup Hacks

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sweetestofchaos · 10 months

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Run From Me - Two | K.TY

p. vampire!taehyung x vampire hunter!reader

g. soulmates - enemies to lovers - reincarnation - unrequited love

r. 18+

w. depictions of sorrow - mentions of murder

wc. 2k

an. divider and support banner made by @benkeibear. betaed by the wonderful @theharrowing

previous | next

The fear in your eyes, that look of pure distrust and hatred. It burned him from the inside out.

It killed him to speak sure words but he couldn’t hold back any longer. How long have you lived this life of murder? How many of his brethren have you slaughtered like sheep? Yes, he loved you. He had loved you through all and every minute that he saw you. He cherished whatever time he had with you. Today was no different. As he held you in his arms, inhaled your sweet scent and felt your pulse beat against his own cold dead heart…he loved you.

He watched as you fled from his sight. He heard your boot steps thud against the hardwood flooring of his home as you ran, creating a larger distance with each step. The front door was yanked open and slammed shut, the bolt catching, causing the wooden door to bounce against the wall harshly. Taehyung was sure there would be a dent the size of the door handle. From the window he watched you run out into the rain, your body getting soaked in seconds. His fingers twitched and he clenched them at his sides. What right had he to drag you back into his home? He had threatened you after all. This was his fault, was it not?

He cursed himself as your body grew smaller and smaller in the storm. The distance between the two of you was uncomfortable to say the least. A dull tug at the string of fate around his heart that connected him to you could be felt. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper but to see you standing before him with a wooden stake…it brought up old memories that he only wished he could forget. Has he proved you right after all? Had he finally become the monster you had painted him to be?

A flat huff of a laugh slipped past his lips and he turned his back on the window. You ran away from him. Again. What did this make, now? How many times had he let you slip through his fingers? As much as he loved to tease, the game of cat and mouse had long since lost its humor. This new game, this punishment…Taehyung hated it. Almost as much as he hated himself. He lowered himself into the blood red velvet settee and draped an arm over his eyes as he sighed.

“When will this misery end?” Taehyung questioned out loud. “Have we not suffered enough?!” His voice rose as he spoke to the air. There was no reply and he laughed bitterly, his arm dropped now to his heart. It beat, faintly. The only sign that while he was a vampire, he was still able to feel.

“Damn you!” He growled as a murky red film blurred his vision. “Damn you and your love!” He cried as red tinted tears streamed down the sides of his face.

You ran. Downpour be damned! You had no choice, no matter what Taehyung had told you. You knew better than to trust a vampire. Why would a monster such as himself ever speak the truth? You didn’t bother to return to your home, opting to stay in a hotel for the night to buy yourself a little time. You needed to disappear and regroup. You couldn’t fight Taehyung on your own. You needed help.

The following morning, you made multiple calls from different burner phones and gave generous tips to people who were willing to make a few easy dollars. They acted as runners between your friends and yourself. By six at night, you had a new identity and a plane ticket to Luxembourg. You hired a professional hair and makeup artist to give you a makeover, turning you into someone that even Taehyung wouldn’t recognize. It was a magic trick that you haven’t had to do very often. This only maddened you farther because you felt like you were wasting money, but it was for the safety of all mankind in the end.

You needed help and there was one man on your mind. Twenty-one hours and thirty minutes from Seoul, South Korea to Luxembourg, Luxembourg; with two layovers. You were exhausted. The plane ride was filled with turbulence and you couldn’t sleep well. When you arrived there was a car waiting for you. Silently, you climbed into the backseat and stared out the window as the car pulled off.

The partition stayed up the whole ride and you were thankful. You did not have the strength to converse with anyone at this moment in time. Your mind was stuck on Taehyung’s words. What did they mean? Well, you guess it didn't really matter now, had it?

The city, famed for its fortified medieval appearance, slowly became scarce the farther the car drove until you came upon houses with vast amounts of land in between them. The car came to a rolling stop in front of a set of wrought iron gates. The gates slowly swung open and the car crawled uphill to a small manor that sat alone surrounded by forest. It felt like you should have been visiting someone of royal blood, but no.

You were here for Ji Sung, an old friend of your family. The man was a warlock, a very powerful one at that. He would often help your father on hunts and taught your mother everything she knew about healing those who were infected by a vampire’s bite.

As the car stopped in front of the stone manor, you rubbed at your chest. Your heart felt heavy, like it had been turned to stone. The front door of the manor opened as you climbed out of the car, and there stood Ji Sung in all his glory. The older man was handsome. His features were sharp and strong, you knew he had been a real looker when he was younger. His hair was a dark onyx that rivaled the night sky, cut low and styled out of his face. Brown eyes were whiskey warm and his smile was disarming. The car pulled off and Ji Sung opened his arms wide to you.

“Welcome, welcome! Come in!” Ji Sung waved you into his home and you hurried up the steps, not waiting to keep the older man waiting. He ushered you inside, a hand hovered over your lower back as he shut the door behind the two of you.

His home was impressive. It felt like you had been transported right into the renaissance era. You fought the urge to call Ji Sung ‘Lord’ and the thought made your lip twitch. Ji Sung gave you a quick tour of his home before he showed you to your room and informed you of when dinner would be ready. You thanked him and locked your bedroom door, only after you heard his footsteps retreat. You were ready to rest.

The bed was huge; the white oak ornate hand carved headboard created the perfect vision of rest with a soft and plush pale blue upholstered footboard that matched the headboard perfectly. The bedding was a mix of blue silks and white cotton. A delicate look for such a massive room decorated throughout in white oak furnishings, cream colored rugs and blue accents.

As you stripped off your pants and crawled into the bed, your body seemingly gained a hundred pounds as you dropped into the cloud-like mattress. Grabbing the edge of a blanket, you rolled yourself into a human burrito and promptly drifted into the land of dreams.

#taehyung fic #vampire taehyung #taehyung angst #bts soulmate au #bts reincarnation au #bts vampire au #fic: run from me ch 2 #soc taehyung

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explosiondigitalcomwant · 2 years

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rosewaterandivy · 1 year

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Can I request a Steve and rockstar reader where they go to the grammys and she’s there when she wins her first Grammy for like new artist or something

Ooh, you're good. I had one of these planned in the OG series, but... it would fuck with the timeline too much to include it here. 👀 SO! Enjoy actor!steve's first trip to the Grammy's & rockstar!gf's second. W.C.: 3.3K Warnings! My blog is 18+, MDNI. Prosaic devotion, probably. General lack of knowledge of behind-the-scenes/Hollywood et al.

carving through the dark

🎶 Darling, we sacrificed we gave our time to something undefined / This phantom life sharpens like an image but it sharpens like a knife 🎶

Awards shows always felt awkward. Fancy gowns, famous faces, free alcohol, press line, and professional competition. Sure, it was nice to be recognized by your peers or the committee or whatever, but that didn’t mean the entire thing ceased to radiate mean girl energy.

At least it was the Grammy’s, something firmly in your wheelhouse where you wouldn’t be expected to make small-talk with a cinematographer and pretend like you actually knew what that entailed. That being said, there was the added pressure of performing and being nominated for a few awards that evening.

No biggie.

The last few shows had been a breeze, all you had to do was show up and look good: the film festival circuit beginning with Venice, the Emmys, the Kennedy Center Honors, the Golden Globes, etc. None of that had anything to do with you— it was all Steve Harrington.

So when your alarm rang on Saturday morning, you screwed your eyes shut and retreated beneath the covers. Despite knowing that Vickie was already awake and would be gently rapping at the bedroom door soon enough.

You heard Steve clear his throat, shifting the sheets as he turned to face you— all stupidly gorgeous bedhead and eyes squinting in the bright morning sun. His right hand flopped over and landed on your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Good morning,” Vickie coos, once you’ve managed to swipe your phone off the night stand and onto the floor. She picked it up quietly, pausing the blaring alarm and set it back on the table.

Reluctantly, you sit up as the covers are peeled away from you, open your eyes and blink slowly. Game day.

Steve had long accepted now that Vickie would show up at the ass crack of dawn on days like these, coffee and breakfast in hand, before you were relegated to the makeup chair where you’d spend hours being poked and prodded to near perfection.

He had plenty to do today as well and Robin was expected shortly. You wouldn’t be surprised to find her puttering around downstairs finalizing his schedule.

Speaking of which—

“Want me to run through the day?”

You nod and reach for your matcha latte, taking a sip while Steve wraps an arm around to pull you back down to the pillows with him. He’s managed to find his glasses and get them on, so at least there’s some progress in the Harrington camp. There was a noise from the hallway, the bedroom door opened and Robin appeared.

“‘Sup nerds?” She greeted and deposited Steve’s protein shake on his nightstand.

“Ugh, still?” He grimaced, eyeing the green concoction warily.

“Yes, dingus, still.” Robin falls into a club chair by the windows and sips loudly from her frappucino. “Now, drink up, buttercup. Nolan wants you in tip-top shape.”

Steve rolls his eyes and begrudgingly takes a sip of the drink. Robin smiles, delighted, before turning back to Vickie with a wink.

“Right, as I was about to say,” she begins, a blush steadily creeping up her cheeks under Robin’s gaze. “Carpet starts at 3pm— you’re expected right at the end.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Your helpful suggestion of skipping the press line and carpet was quickly vetoed by pretty much everyone on the team due to the fact that you were a nominee.

“Your hair is 10am, make up at noon when you finish lunch. Drinks and everything in Bar Marmont with management and crew at 2pm–everyone has different departure times so time on the carpet is staggered. You and Steve are last.”

You nodded. It had been a stressful few weeks— Steve filming on location and you in rehearsals for tour. Not to mention the tabloids and rumor mill running rampant with ‘America’s Sweethearts on the Rocks?’ and ‘Cherry Spotted Solo - Is This the End for the Hollywood Power Couple?’

Steve would walk after the last call, a warning voice would come through speakers and that’s when he’d take his seat. Better to skip the carpet than get drug into the spotlight and inadvertently fuel a fire that neither of you started.

Robin sipped from her own coffee, sensing the hestiancy that hung in the room like the smog around LA. “It’ll be fine guys, piece of cake,” she tried to reassure. “Just focus on celebrating the banger of an album you’ve made!”

You nodded as Steve threw off the sheets to take a shower. He drops a kiss to your forehead and says, “Yeah, honey, the rest is just confetti,” before disappearing into the ensuite.

Knowing that no matter what happened or what the interviewers threw your way, you’d make it out alive and wake up to the same sky and the same guy beside you was a good reminder.

Which was what you repeated in your head when you followed behind him after your last interview, a security detail by your side, all the way by the lingering reporters, inside, past the bars, into the arena, and to the table.

The opening sequence was smooth and energizing, someone delivered drinks and you clinked your glass against his, a quick wink at you in the dark before he leaned and cracked a joke to Eddie at the table nearby.

The night unfolded like that, relatively peaceful and uneventful. That was until one of your categories was called. Steve’s hand gripped yours when your name echoed in the arena with the other nominees. Your eyes went a little wide when he stole a glance at you, the whole table laughed in an effort to ease the tension.

“And the Grammy goes to…” Jennifer Lopez deftly opens the red sealed envelope before glancing back up to the cameras with a smile. “Being Unknown, Cherry McGowan!”

Your head falls into your hands at the shock of it all, the entire table erupted in a cheer and toppling over chairs in their haste. Steve’s arm wraps around you, head tucked close to yours, lips grazing the crown of your head.

“You did it, baby!”

You nod, hands still covering your face so he has to pry them from you and dry your tears. Steve pulls you up, his smile beatific and eyes misty. Fisting your the full of your skirt, you nod to Hop and make your way up to the stage.

But not before a clumsy kiss that has Steve pulling you back for more. You hide your face in his shirt, laughing before you yank him back down, smothering his growing excitement with something better—enough to make him and you forget that everyone is watching.

“Later, hot stuff,” you promise with a wink and follow your producers and collaborators to the podium.

The rest of the night went by in a blur, including your performance of “Who We Are.” Despite Steve’s needling and unique methods of persuasion, you’d managed to remain tight-lipped about the song in question, knowing it was his favorite and with good reason.

You’d written it for him, after all.

Slipping backstage to change into your performance gear, getting micced up and fitted with your in-ears, you allowed yourself a moment to exhale. You weren’t expecting to win, too much of a fan of the other artists and albums to think you’d beat them out.

But here you were, two Grammy’s under your belt and being ushered on-stage to perform. A tech hands you the cherry-red Stratocaster Steve had gotten for your birthday last year, the same one you’d recorded the song with. The stage manager counts you down and cues your entrance.

The crowd cheers as the lights go up, drowning out the announcer echoing through the arena, and the opening piano chords earn a dull roar in anticipation as you approach the mic. You find Steve in the crowd easily, Eddie at his side— both proud and nursing celebratory bourbons.

And it’s the easiest thing in the world for your hands to cradle the mic and sing the first verse, directly to the man who’d inspired it and had been by your side through it all.

“What I had left here I just held it tight / So someone with your eyes might come in time / To hold me like water / Or Christ, hold me like a knife.”

To say he’s shocked is an understatement. Steve all but drops his drink when he realizes the significance of the song you’d selected to sing. When the drums and bass kick in, you maintain eye contact with him, throwing in a knowing smile.

The final single from your now Grammy award-winning album premiering on the biggest night in the music industry, not too shabby. Catching sight of Steve trying not to shed a tear was just a bonus, really.

Back at the table, comfortably buzzed after your performance, the night was coming to a close. Steve had somehow wrangled your legs into his lap under the table and was working on the sore muscles of your calves. Eddie had pulled up a chair on the opposite side, under the pretense of “toasting the belle of the ball.”

Trevor Noah appeared on-stage to present the final award of the evening. The announcer listed the nominees, cameras veering toward tables for the live broadcast. You subtly extricated yourself from Steve’s grasp, lamenting the loss of his warmth and touch. He slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, nerves fluttering in your stomach. The cameraman swung by for a close-up as your name was announced, you smiled politely before turning your attention back to the stage. A number of people had gathered behind Trevor on-stage, and you spotted a familiar face immediately.

“And the Grammy goes to,” Trevor intoned, pausing to open the envelope and glance behind him. He beelines for the older woman immediately, the realization crashing on you like a lightning bolt. “You can read it,” he says to your mother, her eyes scanning the envelope before her.

“C-Cherry McGowan,” she breathes out, followed by a roar from the audience.

The entire table is up on their feet, fists pumping, jumping for joy, high-fives all around. You’re barely able to process it all when Steve lifts you into his arms, coaxing your legs to settle around his hips and kisses you stupid.

Eddie’s wolf-whistle pierces through the spit slick haze you’ve found yourself in. Steve’s hand cradling the full of your thigh as he reluctantly sets you back to rights. He’s got lipstick smeared on his mouth, just like the Emmy’s, but won’t let you wipe it off.

“Don’t keep ‘em waiting,” he says, hustling you off to the stage. Your co-writers and Hopper meet you there, all wide smiles and murmured congratulations. Your mother is bouncing on the balls of her feet holding the Grammy, like she can’t believe it’s real. She tugs you close in a warm embrace as you kiss her cheek. Wiping at the corner of your mouth her thumb comes away tinged pink with lipstick. She murmurs her praises and hands you the award, shooing you to the mic at the center of the stage.

Walked up with no plan, head empty, so all you can say is, “Shit. Well, shit.” Your eyes flit to Steve batting Eddie away while the frontman of Corroded Coffin attempts to get the remnants of lipstick off your boyfriend’s face, with little to no success. You sigh, “I wouldn’t be here without my wonderful collaborators and team,” you say and rattle off their names. “I’ve been so inspired by the artists here this evening and I’m grateful for their friendship. And I think it’s important to remember, especially on nights like tonight, that there is no such thing as ‘best.’”

Eddie whoops and toasts you with a glass from the table. Steve is all smiles and eyes on you— you try not to lose it seeing him mouth ‘I love you.’

“I’d also like to thank my family and the fans for supporting me and loving me unconditionally as an artist and human being. I wouldn’t be here without you, and I love you very much.” You pause to clear your throat, coming to the end of your speech. “I’m so incredibly thankful and will share this award with the inspiration for this album,” you say, a little breathless when your eyes fall on him.

And Steve is shaking his head while Eddie claps him on the shoulder, his hands coming up to hide his face as a cameraman makes his way to the table.

“The entire experience of doing this with you has completely pierced my heart and pried me open.” The room falls to a hush around you, and it’s as if there’s no one there— just you and Steve. “Y’know, sometimes I look at you and can’t believe my luck; that you’re actually real and I get to call you mine,” you laugh, a choked wet thing and will yourself not to fall apart. “You are a stunning, gracious person, and all the rest is just confetti.”

The music swelled and you were ushered off-stage into the press room backstage, along with Hopper and your collaborators. A tech shoves a mic into your hand and kicks it off.

“First question we have is from the Associated Press, take it away.”

“Hi Cherry, and first of all congratulations. How’re you feeling?”

You squint against the bright lights, “Sorry, where are you?”

“To your right.”

You spy a slight woman standing in the press pool. “Gotcha, thanks. I’m, uh, a little overwhelmed to be honest.”

“Understandable, this is the cherry on top of a really successful year for you— a world tour, headlining Coachella, residencies in LA and New York. So, what’s next?”

You sputter a laugh, “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Hop scoffs behind you. “I think the real win for something like this,” you shake the heavy award in your hand, “Is being acknowledged and nominated amongst your peers.”

“Okay, our next question is from The Rolling Stone.”

A man takes the mic and stands somewhere in the center of the crowd. “Let me begin by saying, from all of us at Rolling Stone, a massive congratulations to you Cherry - what an accomplishment!”

Hop claps you on the back with a nod to the reporter, Rob Sheffield.

“Thanks Rob,” you say, ducking at the praise. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

He laughs, “Same to you.” A brief glance down to his notes before he begins, “So much of your music and process ends up pushing other artists and your audience into new places or things they may not have otherwise sought out on their own— Dante’s Inferno, for example, or the use of Irish, Gaeilge, in the lyrics for this album. How do you get to a place like that?”

You let out a low whistle, “Never one to pull punches, are you Rob?” The man in question simply shrugs and winks. “Right. Okay.” You take a deep breath and attempt to gather your thoughts. “I was fortunate to come of age when artists were consistently pushing the envelope— people like Sinead O’Connor, Bowie, Prince— they were the blueprint.” You foist the Grammy off to Hop, the weight of it finally getting to you. “And as far as incorporating a medieval poem and various piece of literature for this album, what can I say? It’s not reinventing the wheel to call upon some of the greatest storytelling in world— Dante literally shaped the modern perception of Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven. He shifted from writing horny love poetry about a woman he’d seen only twice, to creating a whole new type of poetic verse, celestial love, and elevating her to an impossible echelon. If that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is.”

The mic is passed around the room, a few questions dodged for the sake of privacy— can’t confirm what you don’t acknowledge, as your publicist always says. Steve and Eddie sneak their way in eventually, side-stage and a little more than sloshed, Steve’s tie is askew and Eddie’s blazer is nowhere to be found.

“Our final question comes from The New York Times.”

“Hey Cherry, congratulations my friend, truly well-deserved.”

The voice is familiar, feminine and matter of fact.

“Thanks Nance, you’re too kind.”

“Not at all.” She smiles from her spot in the crowd. “In your acceptance speech, you mentioned the inspiration for the album, and I don’t mean to pry, but you’re a notoriously private person. Why did you feel the need to address that?”

Not a softball question, but definitely something you could handle. Bless Nancy and her carefully strung together words.

“I, uh,” you clear your throat, suddenly nervous. “While I am a private person, which I think is an important facet of interpersonal relationships, regardless of status, I think it’s also crucial to acknowledge that something like this—” you gesture vaguely to your team and those around you, “Can’t be done alone. This is the first album I’ve had cowriters on, that I’ve had other people helping to compose and create the sound. I was an island for so long that I was blind to the fact that I was drowning.”

You hear a faint gasp from somewhere behind you.

“Look, the pandemic took so much from all of us, as a collective, and I wrote most of the songs during that time of isolation and loneliness. But there are songs that speak to the beauty of life and love, even if it ends up not working out in the end. There’s a sadness and a serenity in that.”

Nancy nods for you to continue, pen scribbling furiously.

“So my decision to acknowledge the community of artists and musicians who helped me along the way, as well as the inspiration for this album was my half-assed attempt as a love letter. Love,” you conclude, “Is the only thing that can make life not just bearable, but beautiful.” You take a breath, coming back to yourself, “I think that was an answer to your question? It was words,” you laugh, “A lot of words.”

“Wonderfully said,” Nancy says with a smile on her face. “Thanks for allowing us a peek of that journey.”

You smile and shoot her a wink, exiting stage left where Steve greets you away from the prying eyes of reporters and telephoto lenses. He pulls you close, hands anchoring at your hips, fingers scrambling for a slice of skin.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes, “Who do you think you are, wearing something like this?” He fists the full of the silk skirt, just where it hangs above your crystal-encrusted knees. The Paolo Sebastian team has been more than generous in dressing you for the evening. Black mesh dotted with crystals against your skin, a luscious black silk gown with a high-low bubble hem and tights to match.

Steve was kind of easy like that; the illusion of barely there fabrics, a flash of skin where it mattered most. His hand snakes its way to dig into the plush of your thighs, tender with the promise of something more.

“Oh, this old thing?” You drawl, “If you like this, just wait until you see what I’m wearing for the after-party.”

Eddie scoffs, “Please spare me,” he says, “Well, me and the rest of the press corps who can definitely see you if they lean a little to the left.”

Steve’s hand falls from your leg as he pulls you further down the corridor. “Car is outside, think you can do a quick change en route?” He pushes open one of the stage doors with his free hand, the other firmly grasped in yours.

You arch forward again, the cool night air a relief for your fevered skin, strain yourself to kiss his chin, grazing his throat on the way back down, needing him more urgently each passing minute. “I think I can manage,” you rasp, as the car comes into view, “But the question is, can you?”

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #modern!actor!steve #stranger things fanfiction

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