#Limelight Womens wear

[lovebugism]

☄. *. ⋆ ┄ We Fight to Make Up

summary: after a run-in with your ex, steve's anger gets the best of him. sometimes you think he picks a fight just for the make up sex. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 7.6k warnings: smut, steve calls himself daddy once, briefly mentioned breeding kink, a touch of angst, insecure!steve, also steve with scruff because that needs a warning too, 18+ mdni a/n: ok i'm not the happiest with this but it's been sitting in my drafts for so long and she needs to see the world now so.. enjoy? <3

You don’t go out anymore. None of the party does, really.

Fighting through the end of the world and somehow surviving for three years straight made bars and clubs and getting drunk seem a little less important. It gets too easy to stay within the inner circle that’s seen the same sort of hell you’ve seen.

Eventually, time goes on and you don’t realize that you’ve only been around the same ten people until the thought of going to the grocery store alone sounds scary. 

Fighting monsters, weathering alternate dimensions, beating up Russians soldiers — that’s cake. It’s the getting back to normal that’s so hard.

That's a bitter pill to swallow. None of you got to have too much of a childhood before the knowledge of a sentient darkness swirling beneath your feet turned everything upside down (no pun intended). A life with a regular routine unbound by the impending doom of an armageddon is hard to go back to, when fighting to stay alive is all you’ve ever done.

You try really hard, though. All of you do.

The kids try to find a nostalgic amusement in the arcade they used to frequent while grappling with the fact that they’ll never been those kids again. The older group of you dabbles in the simple pleasure of growing up and discovering what adulthood really means — getting drunk and going dancing just because you can, but facing the inevitable consequences of those actions all on your own. 

The six of you find a certain solace at the Limelight. For Steve and Jonathan, they serve good beer — obviously cheap and unusually tangy on the tongue, but nice and cold nonetheless. For Eddie and Robin, there’s a karaoke machine and a stage across the bar, complete with every rock ballad imaginable. You and Nancy take special interest in the dance floor — a platform with light-up rainbow squares for all your drunken twirling needs.

It’s a nice place. More than that, it’s a familiar one. Eventually, going there every friday night is like comfort food in the belly, pleasant and warm. Steve feels safe there when he’s with all of you and tonight he’s especially fuzzy with a quiet sort of happiness that’s got his cheeks all pink. 

Maybe the beer is partly to blame. 

Or maybe it’s because you’ve got your hand tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, anchoring yourself to him and simultaneously fending off any unwanted attention from the scantily clad women around you who can't seem to take their eyes away from your Steve.

But he only watches you as you smile into your glass while Eddie Munson, all sweaty after his Madison Square Garden worthy rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart, tells some stupidly unfunny joke. You’re pressed contently into his side, like you would melt into him if you could, and he’s buzzing with the comfort of your warmth and the chemically induced mellow from the drink in his cup. 

It was a good night. An easy one. A fun one.

And then it just… wasn’t.

When your ex waltzes into the bar, he brings the cold air in with him and an unusual sophisticated energy that’s typically foreign to this side of town. He’s got on a gray corduroy blazer and slacks to match. The black turtle neck he wears beneath it clings to his lean torso and broad chest, like he wants people to marvel at how muscular he is. 

You don’t even realize it’s him at first. You turn to Nancy to talk shit about the douchebag at your eight o’clock that just walked in while the guy settles at the far end of the bar, around the corner that faces the group of you. He removes the dark Ray-Bans from the straight bridge of his nose and uses them to push back his cinnamon-colored curls. 

Steve feels you tense at his side then. You duck inside yourself and force him and Robin to form a makeshift shield around you. 

It’s a tad too dramatic for two people who ended on pretty decent terms. It was about as amicable as a breakup can be — you were both seventeen and thankfully already mature enough to know that the relationship wasn’t bound to make it outside of high school. So you split up in search of more fulfilling things.

You found yours, in Steve and in the rest of the party. And by the looks of it — the obviously expensive suit and the silver Rolex glittering under the dim yellow bar light — he found his.

You aren’t exactly sure how, but he sees you. 

Probably because Robin couldn’t stop ogling at him from over her shoulder, obviously not getting the hint to act casual and inevitably dragging his attention over to the group of you.

He’s confused by the attention at first and then beaming when he notices you. The man flashes a set of pearly whites beneath a plump pink grin, all but shoving through the crowded bar to come and meet you.

Steve is able to get a better look at him when he’s no more than a couple inches away. The guy wrenches you away from him to wrap you in a friendly embrace, smiling like a ray of a thousands suns while he laughs with a hearty mirth.

A childlike and terribly jealous scowl settles upon Steve's features as his stomach wrenches something fierce. This stranger is touching you, and he hates that he’s touching you, but it’s more than that.

Steve’s almost certain this is what he would look like if he hadn’t been through the end of the world. The ornate suit and sunglasses worth more than most people’s salaries could’ve been his. In another life, he could’ve been this pretty and perfect and pure.

But, instead, here he is — dressed in an aged Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt and hand-me-down jeans that are frayed at the hems. There are bits of dried blood on the knee that he can’t get out. He isn’t quite sure if it’s his or if it belongs to one of the three varying monsters he’s been face-to-face with over the years. 

His hair is pushed back and visibly un-styled, fluffier than usual because it hasn’t been washed in a while. And only now does he notice the prickly layer of scruff itching at his jaw and above his lip because the effort to shave is just too much sometimes.

He wishes he had, though. Now, he wants to completely perfect his appearance and change his life entirely — all at the sight of some stranger he didn't know existed before now.

The man introduces himself to the rest of the group when he parts from you — Todd. 

Because of coursehis name is Todd.

No one says that out loud, of course, but you do share pairs of knowing looks. Eddie’s the only one brave enough, or rather drunk enough, to take the piss out of the guy. 

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for Limelight?” he asks before laughing into his beer.

The rhetorical question leads to the man, Todd, to start complaining about work — how he’s making more than he knows what to do with, that the lifestyle isn’t as lavish as everyone made it out to be, that work is his best friend most days because he doesn’t have time for real relationships anymore. 

And it doesn’t sound braggy. This isn't some rich guy complaining about all the money he has. He’s genuine, and that’s somehow even worse.

Steve can tell he’s working for some big four accounting firm without him having to say it. He can practically smell it all over the guy. Todd’s just got that air about him, that he’s got an office on the fiftieth story with large glass windows that span from the floor to the ceiling. He’s making well into the six-figures if that’s the case. Just like his goddamn dad. 

Just like he would be if the endless cycling of fighting hadn’t stripped him flesh from bone.

Steve forces himself to shove that thought to the back of his mind.

“You know I’ve actually been thinking about, you know, just dropping everything. Putting in my two weeks and fucking off to France,” Todd admits. His eyes sparkle like a pair of fucking diamonds when they lock in on you. “Like we always used to talk about.”

That was your dream. The kind of reverie that wasn’t at all practical or the least bit tangible, but the kind you fantasized about nonetheless. 

And here this asshole goes, living it for the both of you.

You’re grinning at him anyway, patting him on the shoulder while you congratulate him. You tell him he should do it. That he deserves it. 

Steve, meanwhile, is so angry he can feel the prickle of the red-hot rage on his skin, like so many little needles. It’s a simmering heat for now, all slow and lazy. The longer he holds it in, the more likely he is to pop into a full boil. He knows that. But he keeps the fire in his chest and wallows in that high-pitched ache.

Todd leaves not too long after. Makes it a point not to overstay his welcome. He’s polite when he goes, making sure to talk to all your friends even though he didn’t exactly come for them — he compliments Eddie’s leather jacket and Robin’s taste in style, Jonathan and Nancy are both blushing pink when he praises their work with the local paper. He says something to Steve he can’t quite register because he’s too busy fuming. 

The brunette girl beside him is practically swooning, and he has to remind her — “Robin, you’re gay.”

The man was kind, terribly so, the sort of politeness you can’t help but notice and marvel at, like a pretty pebble you’ve found on the ground. He didn’t overstep any boundaries with you either, like he respected that you two were practically strangers now — fucking asshole — and whether or not he knew you were with Steve, he kept a chivalrous distance anyway.

He must’ve known, though, he did have eyes after all. There’s no way he missed the way Steve had been looming over you the whole time. Or the possessive arm he had around your shoulder. Or the stern chocolate gaze that had ping-ponged between you and him the entire conversation.

When he leaves, there’s nothing to talk shit about or make fun of him for. Not only is that really fucking annoying, but it’s boring, and it leaves you and Steve as the punching bags for all their stupid jokes.

“You certainly have a type, don’t ya, doll?” Eddie teases you as he reaches behind Nancy to shove at your shoulder. “Steve’s practically a carbon copy of that douchebag.”

“Holy shit, I can see it now,” Robin marvels breathlessly. Her deep ocean gaze is still locked on Todd across the bar. He’s minding his own business now, ordering another drink, while the rest of you can’t seem to stop talking about him. She turns back to Steve, her eyes flitting over his features like it’s the first time she’s seeing them while she puts the pieces of a puzzle together. 

“But, Steve’s like the dollar store version of him, though, right?” she wonders rhetorically and then feels the need to explain herself when Steve furrows his brows at her. “—Because, you know… he’s a lot richer than you are…”

The boy rolls his and brings the beer back to his lips. The clarification makes it sting more. 

“Thanks, Rob.”

Steve isn’t quite sure what’s got him seething. He’s the personification of a forest fire now — scorching, raging, and deadly — without a reason to be. It’s entirely likely you’ll never see Todd ever again. He lives in the city these days and he just told you that he was planning on moving to fucking France.

But these facts don’t mean as much to him when he knows that the guy isn’t totally over you. 

Steve knows Todd would be more than happy to take you out for coffee tomorrow morning to tie up any left-behind loose ends. He’s a rich guy going through a quarter-life crisis (Steve knows a little about what that’s like, too), he’d be more than happy to sweep an old ex-girlfriend off her feet and take her all the way to France with him. She’d need only to ask him to.

Maybe that’s what angers him. There’s a man, all rich and pretty and unscathed by war, that might love you like he does.

The wildfire in his chest grows. It’s a wonder it hasn't seared a hole in the fabric of his sweatshirt. And it burns. It leaves aching blisters on his skin like it’s the real damn thing. It’s like punches to the face, worse than every time he’s ever been beaten up combined.

He manages to keep the ashes of himself together. It's the least he can do for the rest of you, who obviously aren’t as bothered by Todd’s lingering presence and have since moved on to things more meaningful.

It wouldn’t be fair to project his ache onto you.

You guys don’t get too many nights like this, with work and school and lingering bouts of PTSD — who’s he to ruin this night for everyone else when he’s the problem?

But if any of you notice his simmering anger, you don’t show it.

He isn’t sure if that makes him feel better or not.

Nancy and Jonathan stay no longer than fifteen minutes after the fact. “We’ve got an early day tomorrow,” the say with a shrug, though everyone knows what that’s code for. Robin makes kissing noises at them as they make their exit.

Now, the brunette girl stands in front of the stage that Eddie parades on. He belts “If you only hold me tight, we’ll be holding on forever!” into the microphone for the hundredth time. She cheers for the boy like it’s the first time she’s ever heard the stupid song.

The bartender hands you two drinks, a couple of Sex on the Beach’s for you and Robin to try.

She hadn’t stopped talking about it since she spotted it on the menu even though she hates peach schnapps. You tell Steve you’re going to run it to her and that you bet she won’t make it through one sip without gagging. You also promise that you’ll try and pull Eddie away from the stage when the Bonnie Tyler song fades and then inevitably loops again.

He only nods and mumbles a vague affirmative under his breath. He doesn’t even look at you. Just stares down at his empty glass of beer and draws patterns on the cloudy cup with his finger. 

It’s hard not to notice his uncharacteristically long silence. 

He hasn’t been King Steve for quite some time, but that version of him always manages to peek out after a couple of drinks. He gets loud and brash and smiley and stupid. It makes the quiet demeanor he possesses now that much more daunting. Like a flag he’s waving to make sure everyone else knows that he’s upset about something or other.

Eventually, it makes you burst.

“Is something wrong?” you blurt.

He finally glances at you then. And has the gall to look confused. “What?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. You shift your weight on your feet and try to ignore the distant stinging of the ice glasses in your hand, how the cold of them shoots pins and needles into your palms. “You’re just… being really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses with a shrug of his own. A hint of a smile flashes at the very corner of his mouth before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows down the rest of it in one quick gulp. You watch anxiously as he waves to the bartender for another. 

“We can go home if you want—”

“Jesus, I’m fine,” he interjects. The laugh that spills from his throat borders on annoyance. “Just go get the freak before he drives me crazy.”

With that, the two of you part ways. You, with the knowledge that something’s wrong with your boyfriend but having no way to make it better because he won’t tell you anything. And Steve, with another irrational reason to be angry at the world because how do you not get it?

If his ex-girlfriend showed up to a bar, looking like an airbrushed model with more money than all of you combined who’s got brains and wit and humility, he’d want you to get a little fucking jealous too.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. But he chooses to wallow in his anger than reflect on it, anyway. He takes pity on himself and makes everyone else out to be the enemy. Like he does best.

Even hours later, when he’s sobering up with room temperature water and a bowl of pretzels — and you’re calling a cab for a significantly drunker Eddie and Robin — he still feels the sting. 

He makes sure you know it too. 

The drive back home is uncomfortably quiet, which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he at least had the radio on. But when he stuck the key into the ignition and music started blaring from the speakers (because he forget to turn it down beforehand), he turns it off completely. You feel to awkward to touch it.

“Do you, uh… Do you wanna talk about it now?” you ask him.

You’re unfamiliarly timid with him as you peer at him through your lashes. It’s like you’re looking at the sun, the way you have to glance at him from the corner of your eye so he won’t blind you. And it isn’t because of his usually sunny disposition because, somewhere along the course of the night, his shine got snuffed out. It’s because he’s practically lit himself on fire with his anger where he sits next to you.

And he still has the nerve to shake his head. “Talk about what? I told you, there’s nothing wrong,” he dismisses with one hand in a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the other resting its elbow against the driver’s side door while his fingers pick anxiously at his lower lip. Nothing wrong, my ass.

“Are we seriously gonna play that game tonight?”

“What game?” he scoffs out a laugh.

“The game here you’re upset about something, but refuse to tell me why, so I have to guess what’s wrong with you until I get it right and you let me make it better.”

Steve glances at you and then back to the road. “I… I don’t do that.”

Oh, fuck, he totally does, he thinks to himself. Fuck, he hates that you know him so well.

“You’re literally doing it right now.”

“Well, I can’t be. Because I’m not upset about anything,” he argues with a shrug. “That’s, like, a mathematical impossibility. Or whatever.”

“Considering this is the most you’ve said to me all night, I know that isn’t true— And it’s not even a conversation! You’re just being passive aggressive!”

“Passive aggressive, huh?” he repeats sardonically.

“Yes!” you seethe. “You’re mad at me and I can tell that you’re mad, so just tell me why—”

“I’m not mad at you,” Steve grumbles. He feels even more like shit for making you think he was acting all pissy because of something you had done. You hadn’t done anything. You were perfect. You’re always perfect. And here he goes, making you think otherwise.

He slows to a stop at the last red-light before home. The neon scarlet matches that anger sweltering in his belly. He still refuses to look at you. 

“Then what happened between when we got to Limelight and right now that’s got you so fucked up?” you ask him with a furrowed brow and inquisitive eyes.

The boy only huffs. His chest deflates with a heavy breath. He almost forgets to answer you because he’s too busy praying for the light to turn green so he can get the fuck home.

He just needs a little food in his system, he concludes, and a nice hot shower and a bed to rest his tired bones. Maybe then he’ll be able to function like he’s meant to. 

He feels a sense of relief for the first time in hours when the light bathes the two of you in a neon emerald glow.

You let out a sharp exhale through your nose at his silence. You shake your head at him like an annoyed parent and cross your arms over your chest. Your knees turn away from him and towards the door in time with your gaze that flits to the window. Now you’re the one that’s pissed.

Steve mumbles lowly when he finally answers you. It’s nearly inaudible.

“Your douchebag ex.”

“What?” you reply, sparing a glance over at him. It isn’t a question of whether you heard him or not, but of why that’s what he’s being so mean to you about.

“Your douchebag ex,” he repeats louder and picks chapped skin from his bottom lip. He rubs his tongue over the irritated skin to soothe the burn. “That’s what I’m upset about.”

Your brows furrow as you rack your head for the conversation you had with Todd that you’d already forgotten about. He’d said hello, and that you looked nice, and then asked you what you’d been up to before making conversation with your friends. He’d wished you luck and walked back to his seat not too long after. You wonder if there was some code in his words that you’d missed.

“…I don’t get it. What did he do?”

“Really?” Steve wonders with an emotionless laugh. “You don’t have a single clue why that might’ve pissed me off?”

He barely slows at the sign of the four-way stop. The block is practically a ghost town now. No one’s out so late into the night. Any other time you might’ve said something about it, but you’re just as eager to get home as the simmering boy next to you.

“No! He stopped by to talk for, like, five minutes! Are you really upset because another man talked to me?” you shout and it burns him because, yeah, that is kind of what he’s mad about — but it’s more than that and you don’t seem to get it. It’s not your job to either. He’ll just burn for the both of you.

The car jerks to a stop when he parks in the driveway.

“Yeah, you’re right—” Steve mutters to himself as he snatches the keys from the ignition. “You don’t get it.”

You feel the impact of the slammed of the car door as he exits. The headlights illuminate the boy as he uses his key ring to unlock the front entrance of your shared home. The dim orange overhead light slowly dims above you and then shuts off completely, bathing you in darkness.

With a sigh and a fleeting thought of oh, it’s gonna be that kinda night, huh? you follow less unenthusiastically behind him.

“Then just explain it to me,” you plead, your voice coated with exhaustion. The warmth of the living room seeps into your bones and makes you that much more tired. “I really, really don’t wanna do this tonight.”

“That asshole was all over you,” Steve finally chooses to air his grievances while he toes off his sneakers.

“He hugged me once! What was I supposed to do? Push him off?”

“That’d be a start.”

“I would’ve done it!” you promise.

He plops onto the couch with a rather dramatic huff as you struggle to take off your boots, what with the zipper getting caught in the slider and being distracted by the storm cloud across the room.

“I don’t care about him! I literally haven’t seen him since I was eighteen! I basically forgot he existed in the first place.”

Steve doesn’t let himself take any solace in your words.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs with the shake of his head. He rests his elbows on his knees, runs his palms over his face once before dragging his fingers through his mussed hair. “Sometimes… I don’t know, I guess, sometimes it feels like maybe you deserve someone better than me.”

His confession feels like a stab in your heart. 

You can only imagine how many daggers are piercing him now.

“Steve…”

“No. Don’t give me that bullshit spiel, alright?” he spurns with a shake of his stubborn head. When he laughs, it lacks any and all emotion; it’s gut-wrenchingly bitter and coated with venom. “We both know he could take way better care of you than I ever could. He’s practically a fucking millionaire, babe! And he’s, what, twenty-five? He has the money to drop everything and fly across the world— to France.”

“Steve—” you try again, to stop the spiral before it starts.

He doesn’t let you.

“I mean, fuck, I know how bad you wanna go there. You’ve been talking about it since we were eight,” he laments with wide, glassy eyes and an hand splayed out towards you. He brings it, then, to his chest and clutches at his heart, “But I can’t take you. Because I’m so broke, it fucking hurts. You deserve someone to do that shit for you, alright? And it’s not me. It’s never gonna be me.”

“…You really think he can take better care of me than you do?” you ask him so quietly that it sounds like a whimper. Your face is twisted in anguish, like his sadness pains you too.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckles like the answer’s obvious. He sniffles. “Considering we’re working our asses off just to make it through the week and you’d never have to work a day in your life if you were with that asshole.”

“It’s not about the money, Steve,” you agonize with the shake of your head. “I don’t love him. I would be so unhappy if I were with him because he’s not you. I don’t give a single fuck about France if you’re not gonna be there with me.”

You close the distance between you as you walk from the entrance to where he sits in the living room. He can hardly look at you as you round the couch to stand ahead of him, sparing only meek glances your way.

The small smile on your lips only half puts out the fire raging in his chest. It’s one of those natural wildfires now. The kind that you’ve just got to let burn.

“What do I have to do, Steve? What do you want me to do to prove that I just want you?” you ask him softly, nudging your sock-clad foot with his own. “I’ll fucking— I’ll find his number in the phone book right now and invite him over if you want—”

Yeah, because seeing him again is gonna make any of this shit better, he thinks bitterly to himself, though he’s pleasantly surprised by your following promise.

“I’ll make him come over here, act like I wanna catch up or whatever, and then make him watch while I suck your cock,” you paint the picture for him in a suddenly low, sultry tone.

Steve can almost see it —  the look on Todd’s face as he stands in the foyer, his hands balled into fists at his side, wearing an angry amber tint upon his perfect face while he watches the girl that got away take a mouthful of another man’s dick. “I’ll get all nice and pretty on my knees for you and make him watch.”

Steve tenses at your words. His fingers twitch where they rests on his knees, itching to get a hold of you. His eyes go heavy as he gazes up at you, his stern stare looking much darker than before — hungrier. 

Your eyes carry a similar sort of desire. They swim with innocence and yearning and knowing. 

Because both of you understand how your fights usually end. You’ve been together long enough to know. The anger grows and grows in the belly of a dragon until it’s all you can do to keep your hands off of each other. You make Steve come so hard he forgets all the reasons he was raging in the first place and then he apologizes with his tongue deep inside you, touching you in all the tender ways he knows how.

“Yeah,” he breathes with a nod, the word heavy on his tongue. “That’s what I want.”

“You wanna own me, don’t you, Stevie?” you purr.

Your movements are calculated and cat-like as you mount him. Your hands caress him from his knees to his thighs, then rise up to his chest when you straddle his lap. “You wanna fuck me and make me forget about every guy that’s ever had me before you. Is that it?”

He nods, too dumb to speak for now. Your voice is all silk and heat. It reminds him of your wet, hot pussy sitting just over his lap. Only the thin layers of your clothes separate you from him.

“You wanna ruin everyone else for me, huh?”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes, both in an answer and a moan as your hand reaches between you to grab his cock through his jeans.

“You already have,” you assure with a sincere twinkle in your eyes. “But feel free to remind me.”

When your mouths collide, it’s all tongue and teeth and spit. It’s not passionate, it’s dirty.

His tongue forces its way between your lips and into your mouth, rubbing every part of you he can reach with the muscle, like he wants you to feel all of him there — a lingering touch that you can’t get rid of.

Your mouths caress each other and then break apart again in acute, wet, and filthy clicks that fill the silence in the house. 

His stubble softly scratches you as it rubs against your skin. The feeling of it sends chills down your spine. Fuck, you curse to yourself. It’d feel even better between your legs.

Steve separates from you suddenly, his teeth digging into your bottom lip. A whimper leaves your throat as he mouths at it. With hooded eyes, he lets it go and watches it fall back into place. Then he grabs your cheeks with two large palms and drags you back to him, sucking on the bitten skin and then on your tongue. 

The sensation’s got you moaning, your eyes rolling back in your head, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Your obedient hands worm between your bodies to unbuckle his belt.

“You gonna be good for me?” Steve asks you while your fingers undo that button on his pants. His lips are pinker and more swollen, coated with a fine sheen of spit that matches what's smeared on his chin.

“I’ll be so good for you, Stevie,” you promise before reaching through the band of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his warm, half-hard cock. 

A grunt escapes his throat as he slides your panties to the side. He’s suddenly grateful for the easy access granted by your dress — the one that makes your tits look like heaven, the one he was cursing just hours because it had Todd drooling all over himself when he saw you.

The thought of the man no longer angers him. He’s not the one with his finger between the lips of your pussy, already drenched and coated with you.

“Yeah? You want daddy to fill your hungry little cunt?” Steve asks you, almost taunting you. He only uses that nickname when he’s in a certain mood — the mood to ruin you.

The tip of his finger catches the peak of your swollen clit and you keen.

His touch makes you so stupid that you’ve already forgotten to answer his question. He makes sure to remind you, though, when his hand rears back and smacks against the bare flesh of your cunt.

You hear the wet slap before you feel it. 

It makes you clench around nothing and moan louder for him, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Words,”he demands softly.

“Please,” you moan helplessly into his shoulder. You love when he gets like this, assertive and showy with the power you let him have over you. He gets mean with you, but never too much that you forget how much he loves you, and that’s when you like him best.

His finger slips so effortlessly into you. You could easily take more than that with the way your pussy is so eager to suck him inside. He knows it, too. He just wants to tease you.

He wants to leave you empty and yearning before he fucks you silly. For now, he’s taunting you with his slow and clinical touch, observing everything he’s doing to you and how it has you twitching and begging for more. 

He wants to commit it all to memory. 

He’s barely got the tip of his pointer and middle finger prodding at your clenching entrance; it’s your pussy that drags them further in, opening for him and then tightening around the appendages so they’ll never leave. The obscenity of it makes both of you moan.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty like this,” Steve mutters to himself. “And so fucking wet— enough for me to slip right in, don’t ya think?”

You’re not so sure but you nod into his shoulder anyway. Even after all this time together, you can’t quite get used to how big he is. He still has to work you up to take his cock, with three or more fingers shoved inside of you until you’re ready. Even then, it still burns for the first couple of seconds. There’s always a grace period that you have to wait for before he can move. 

And you feel the ache of him in your belly after, every damn time. Like he’s still there.

But you’re so wet now, impossibly so, you don’t think you could feel a thing other than pure bliss when he nestles his cock deep inside of you.

You whine quietly when he pulls his fingers from you, though it turns into a breathy moan when you see them glisten with your wetness. He slides them over his length, jerking himself to lube himself up for you. Just for good measure, he grabs hold of his cock and rubs the rounded tip between your velvet lips, coating it further with your slick. 

“Think there’s enough for me to take your ass tonight, baby?” he asks over your low moan. He has to hold back his own, grit his teeth to keep it from leaving his mouth. God, you feel exactly like silk. “You want me to fuck that tight little hole, huh? You’ve only let me in there, right?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer tightly. 

He doesn’t know which question you’re answering. Probably all three. Or maybe you’re just moaning because he’s got you all stupid with his cock and it’s not even inside of you yet. Both seems most likely.

Steve positions himself against you. When you feel the bulbous tip of his head, you hardly wait to slide down, down, down upon his cock. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel full. It takes less time before he reaches the apparent end of you. The feeling makes you jolt against him, like your body’s trying to move back up and away from the sensation on instinct. He’s quick to grab your hips to keep himself inside you.

“Uh-uh,” he hums. “Don’t run away from me.”

“Fuck,” you moan into his shoulder and then whine. The pleasure and the accompanying ache has your head spinning. “You’re already so deep.”

“I know, baby. You gotta take all of me, though, okay? Said you were gonna me by good girl, remember?”

His coo is enough to comfort you. You nod against his neck and let him guide you further and further down his cock.

You grit your teeth when you think he can’t possibly fill you anymore. The burn peaks all at once and ebbs so quickly, letting the rest of his inches slide in you with ease. And, god, if you don’t feel him in your fucking throat. 

He stills, thankfully, and lets you get used to the feeling of him all over again.

“There you go,” Steve praises like he always does and then laughs at how rigid you’ve gone. “Breathe, baby.”

The exhale comes out as a sob and a small “fuck”, but you force yourself to relax against him nonetheless. His warm hands rub soothingly against the buzzing skin of your thighs beneath the skirt of your dress. “Doing so good for me, baby.”

“I can feel you in my fucking guts right now,” you slur, voice fragile like glass.

Your words are almost enough to make him burst and you haven’t even moved yet. A deep, hearty groan climbs from his throat. He tips his heavy head to the back of the couch and clenches his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off the feeling.

He makes himself climb down from the peak of pleasure and quickly gain his bearings all over again.

“Ride me, honey,” he whispers you.

Immediately, you start rocking your hips against him. His sigh is blissful, almost dreamy, as he watches you work yourself on top of him. 

You’re always so patient with your pleasure, so calculated and attentive. You slide your hips back over his thighs and then up again, moaning every time the material of his sweatshirt rubs against your clit. You’re not chasing the feeling, you’re letting it come slowly and ease its way up to you. You know you’ve got all the time in the world.

Steve has always admired your patience, but it’s never one he could hope to possess. He rides toward an orgasm on a white mare. He claims it, he hunts it, he snatches it. Because, you’re right, you’ve got all the time in the world — he wants you to come as many times as the night (or, rather, your pussy) will allow.

So it isn’t at all surprising when gets impatient with your slow movements. And when one hand falls to your ass and the other slides up your back and clutches the opposite shoulder, you know what you’re in for. 

Even though you’re expecting it, a high-pitched moan spills from your mouth when he starts fucking up into you. He’s doing a whole lot more than just hitting the right spot. The rubbing of the fabric is unrelenting against your clit.

You’re always done for when he takes you like this. Both of you know it.

“You already close, aren’t you?” he manages through heavy pants over the lewd slapping of his thighs against your own. “This is all it takes, huh?”

“’S because of you,” you slur into the sticky skin of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He can feel himself getting closer and he groans through gritted teeth. The hand on your shoulder ascends to the back of your head. His fingers tangle in your hair and pull you from the refuge you’d found in the book of his shoulder. It allows him to see you for the first time since you’d mounted his cock.

Your cheeks are blotchy and glowing cherry. Your eyes are glassy and glazed over with pleasure. Your lips swollen from where you’d been biting at them. 

Perfect, he thinks to himself.

He drags that hand to your chest, wrenching at the plunging neck and pushing it down to reveal your tits. They bound out of the fabric with ease, a small red and raw line at the tops of them from where the dress had kept them so tightly contained. 

He palms at your left breast, digs his fingers into the fat of it and lets your hard and pebbled nipple rub against his palm.

“Fuck, baby,” he almost whines. It takes all of his willpower to keep his eyes open to look at them. “You’ve got the prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s why I wore this— wanted your attention—” you confess through each of his thrusts.

“Yeah, you got my fucking attention, sweetheart,” he manages a breathy laugh.

His heart swells at the thought of you picking this dress because you thought he might like it. That you’d think of him doing something as mundane as picking what you wore out to the bar you went to every Friday night. 

It gets too easy to want to slip into that softness. But he knows that you’re already close. So, so fucking close. 

“Now come all over my cock for me, yeah?” he demands softly. “Cream on this dick and show me how good you are.”

And, like the good girl you are, don’t need to be told twice.

You shudder against him and then go rigid. He watches with a proud, lazy grin as you tip your head back, squeeze your eyes shut, and let your mouth fall agape. The feeling in your stomach builds and builds and builds, the pleasure disappearing for a moment, before coming back in an explosion that makes you gush.

As though your moans weren’t enough of a confirmation of your orgasm, you go so unmistakably tight around him that it makes his legs twitch beneath you. He angles his hips so he can peek between the two of you to watch the sheen of your cum glisten on his hard cock. 

“God, you’re so fucking sensitive like this— holy shit.”

“Steve!” you whine when your high starts to fade and his thrusts only quicken. 

He's chasing his own pleasure now, you know that, but the feeling against your abused pussy is growing into a nearly unbearable one.

You bite your lip so hard it’s a wonder you don’t draw any blood. You grip his shoulders and ball his sweatshirt in your fist, tethering yourself to him and to reality.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” he asks with his chin jutted out to look up at you. “Who else can fuck you like this?”

You can tell by his glassy eyes and erratic thrusts that he’s close to his own orgasm. He always wants you to talk him through it, to praise him and to tell him how good he makes you feel. For obvious reason, the whole thing comes terribly natural to you.

“Only you,” you promise tiredly. “’S just you, Stevie—”

“Fuck,” he spits and tilts his head to the back of the couch. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and brings his bottom lip between his teeth, never easing his impossibly swift thrusts.

“Want you to come in me,” you whisper to him. You rest your arms on his shoulders and drag your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and pulling every time he lets a moan slip. “Want you to come so deep inside me— I’m dripping for days—”

“Shit, baby.”

“And then, when I’m all round and full with your baby— everyone’s gonna know who I belong to, right?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans. “Gonna come so— fuck— so nice and deep in this pussy. My pussy.”

“Please,” you beg, like you aren’t half-delirious with your own pleasure. “Come in your pussy, Stevie.”

“Holy shit—” His cock pulses and twitches and then spits inside you. He grabs onto your hips more roughly than he intended and keeps you tightly pressed against him while he comes, giving you several long and warm ropes against your velvet walls. He whimpers when your pussy flutters around him.

You collapse against him when his orgasm comes and goes, rocking against his lap to get him through his high until he stops you with a firm squeeze to your thigh. You both sink further into the couch, swimming in the peaceful void that pleasure always pushes you into. 

He rubs his hands beneath the skirt of your dress, petting your warm and sticky skin as the after-sex bliss rest heavily upon the both of you.

“Here,” he breaks the satin silence and taps at your hip. “Get off, baby. Let me get you some water or something—”

He feels you shake your head from where you’ve tucked it in his shoulder again. “Don’t wanna move. Want you to stay inside me.”

“Yeah?”

You’ve never done this before — cockwarming. He’s not sure if you have before, but he definitely hasn’t, and certainly not with you. 

Before you, he was the kind of asshole that went to sleep right after sex. The thought of staying inside his partner never crossed his mind. But to his defense, none of his partners thought to do it either. Being King Steve and all meant there wasn’t a lot of cuddling going on after sex. It was usually one-and-done affairs, but he never did this with any of his girlfriends before either.

And now that he’s matured into a somewhat respectable adult, he takes great pride in taking care of you after, in cleaning you up and making sure you’re alright. And when you’re either falling asleep or wanting to shower, there’s no room to be kept inside you. Not until now.

“Wanna fall asleep like this,” you confess. The way you’re halfway slurring and settling more heavily against him tells him you’re not too far off.

“That’s not gonna be comfortable for you, baby,” he scolds softly. Because him — he’s perfect like this. He’s slouched in the plush cushion of the couch and you’re wrapped so tightly around him (in every possible way) you've become his own personal blanket. 

But your back is hunched from where your neck is snug and pressed into his shoulder. You’ll likely wake up aching tomorrow, in more ways than one.

“Don’t care,” you mumble and sprinkle kisses to his neck, just because you can. “Wanna stay like this forever.”

“Forever?” he laughs tiredly.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You shift on his lap to look at him, exhaling a moan through your nose when you feel him twitch inside of you, even though he’s going steadily soft. Your gaze is innocent and yearning and knowing — hungry again. “Think you can take that, Harrington?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he promises with a sincere twinkle in his cinnamon colored eyes. “I can take it.”

[youremyheaven]

Mrigashira: Always On The Run

TW: abuse, kidnapping, r*pe, murder, stalking, violence, incest

I have been doing more research on Mrigashira simply because for the last month or so, I have been seeing more Mrigashira like incidents more and more often (synchronicity, I suppose). It's so fascinating to me how literally the themes of this nakshatra manifest in real life.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the mythology of this nakshatra, it goes like this:

Rohini was Brahma's favourite daughter. He loved her to such an extent that he tried to be sexually intimate with her. Traumatized, Rohini decided to leave heaven. She descended down to earth and took the form of a deer (a deer's head is the symbol of Mrigashira and the word "Mrigashira" literally translates to animal's head) so that she can hide away from her creepy father. Deers are animals who spend their lives in fear of danger. Every day it wakes up knowing that it will have to run for its life because its prey to many predators. There is no sense of safety.

In real life this translates to paranoia, stalking (being stalked as well as stalking others), kidnapping, being held hostage, incestual abuse, obsession, being exiled, going into hiding, being deprived of your "freedom", being gaslit/manipulated, stockholm syndrome, having a violent/unsafe home, being on the run, chasing as well as being chased etc

Lindsay Lohan, Mrigashira Rising (she is also Bharani Moon and Venusian women are highly susceptible to abuse, which I'll explore further in a separate post)

Lindsay starred in a movie called I Know Who Killed Me which revolves around a young woman who is abducted and tortured by a sadistic serial killer. After surviving the abduction, she insists that her identity is that of another woman.

I would say both the themes of being abducted and held hostage and also being very confused about your identity are linked to Mrigashira (I won't give away the twist of the movie, but you should watch it, its not as bad as some people say it is). You have to remember that in the mythology, Rohini changed form from a woman to a deer, so changing identities, being confused about who you really are and by extension being susceptible to gaslighting and manipulation and also being paranoid about the same are all Mrigashira themes.

However, its not just victims who have Mrigashira placements, unfortunately, many perpetrators have Mrig in their charts as well.

Boy George- Mrigashira Sun

In 2007, Boy George imprisoned a male escort in his house, chained him to the wall and beat him up. It was apparently a psychotic episode as George was struggling with cocaine addiction at the time. He was convicted and served a 15-month sentence.

Sia- Mrigashira Moon

Sia felt uncomfortable being in the limelight and would suffer from constant anxiety and nervous breakdowns as a result of it in the early phase of her career. So when she made a comeback, she decided to wear wigs that covered her face and basically kept her hidden from view (all of these are Mrigashira themes).

Sia's relationship and obsession with Maddie Ziegler (Saturn in Mrigashira) has been extremely inappropriate. In 2014, at the age of 11, Maddie starred in Chandelier for Sia who was 38yrs old. Sia was a huge fan of Maddie after watching her performances on Dance Moms and reached out to her to star in the video. This began a long series of collaborations and performances.

Sia kept creating projects for Maddie to be in just so that she can keep her close and in her own words "protect her". But she cast Maddie as an autistic teen in a movie called Music for which Maddie received huge backlash and is considered very insulting movie to the autistic community. Maddie didn't even want to be in it but Sia forced her.

For many years, Maddie was the ONLY person that Sia followed on IG (now she's one of the five people she follows lol). Maddie would apparently have sleepovers with Sia and they'd snuggle in bed together? 🤮🤢🤮idk why a teenager has to live and snuggle with some middle aged woman who isn't even related to her?? Sia gets away with all this bc she's a woman, if a man did all this to a teenager he'd be accused of grooming her. Sia even bought Maddie her first car and tried to adopt her?? Sia basically made Maddie codependent on her from her early teens. I hope one day all the truth comes to light because their dynamic is seriously disturbing and Maddie has yet to speak up about it.

I personally find it morbid that a woman who found fame so nerve wracking and damaging as to hide behind wigs for her entire career would put a literal child out there as the "face" of her brand and then claim that she was "protecting" her. What or who exactly is she being protected from lol? if anything she is being exploited by a creepy older woman.

Linda Hamilton, Mrigashira Moon

Linda played the iconic Sarah Connor in the Terminator who is supposed to be executed by a cyborg sent from the future. The entire movie basically features Sarah running for her life. This is a very literal manifestation of a Mrigashira trope.

Bae Doona, Mrigashira Moon

several characters that Doona has played echo Mrigashira-esque themes. In Cloud Atlas, she plays a humanoid clone who has to eat "soap" which is the food that clones eat to remain acquiescent (it takes away their ability to remember or form new thoughts that aren't programmed into them- basically a scifi dystopian version of being gaslit). She eventually breaks free and learns the "truth" about her condition (another Mrigashira theme is "learning the truth" because Rohini escaped heaven after learning the truth behind her father's love).

Ewan McGregor, Mrigashira Moon

Ewan starred in a movie called Big Fish which is about a frustrated son trying to determine the fact from fiction in his dying father's life.

Ewan plays the father in question. The son does eventually learn about the truth but blurring fact and fiction and not being able to distinguish which is which, being overly suspicious of others and their motives etc are all Mrigashira themes.

Liam Neeson, Mrigashira Sun

In The Taken movies, Liam stars as a former CIA operative who must rescue his teenage daughter and her friend who has been abducted by human traffickers for sexual slavery while on a trip to Paris.

Liam is on the run throughout the movie, except he's the one chasing them and he is on a mission to rescue his abducted daughter (extremely on brand Mrigashira trope).

Bear Grylls, Ketu in Mrigashira

speaking of running and chasing, lets talk about surviving in the wild, which also arguably correlates to Mrigashira. Bear Grylls aka the man who made a career out of teaching people how to survive in the wild has his Ketu placement here. i include Ketu placements because Ketu is how we channel our latent creative potential. it represents our imagination and creativity bc its the lowest point of our subconscious.

BTS made their debut on 12th June 2013, so they have Mrigashira Sun atmakaraka & Jupiter (Pushya Moon, Mercury in Punarvasu amatyakaraka)

I have often wondered why Armies are so uniquely obsessive and why BTS seems mutually obsessed with their armies. For the most part it is a wonderful rapport (minus the saesangs) and knowing their Mrigashira connection cements it further.

Amelia Earhart, Venus in Mrigashira atmakaraka

The Mrigashira urge to be an explorer of some kind is very interesting to me, I feel like they're always breaking into new territories and doing unprecedented things but always paying a personal price for it

Amelia was an American aviation pioneer. On July 2, 1937, Earhart disappeared over the Pacific Ocean while attempting to become the first female pilot to circumnavigate the world. To this day, no one is quite sure what happened to her.

Mrigashira nak is quite prominent in the charts of many people who have similarly gone exploring and never returned.

Michael Rockefeller, Venus AK in Mrigashira, Mars Amk in Mrigashira

In 1961, he was on an expedition (??) in present day Indonesia (then Dutch New Guinea) when the boat he was in had overturned. He was with the anthropologist Rene Wassing who was rescued the next day but Michael was never seen or heard from again despite intensive searches all over the area. He was declared legally dead in 1964. There have been speculations over the years that he may have been a victim of cannibalism (which was practiced by the local tribes).

Joshua Slocum, Ketu in Mrigashira

He was the first person to sail single-handedly around the world.

In 1909 he set sail from New England in the Spray (the name of his ship) to spend the winter in Grand Cayman and was lost at sea. He was assumed to have been the victim of a collision; he and the Spray were never found, and in 1924 he was declared legally dead.

To go exploring and never be found is tragically Mrigashiracore

Hart Crane, Ketu in Mrigashira

On April 27, 1932, Crane, in an inebriated state, jumped off or fell off the steamship USS Orizaba and into the Gulf of Mexico while the ship was en route to New York. His body was never found.

Glen Miller, Mrigashira Rising

American big band conductor, arranger, composer, trombone player, and recording artist before and during World War II, when he was an officer in the US Army Air Forces.

Miller went missing in action (MIA) on December 15, 1944, on a flight over the English Channel. In keeping with standard operating procedure for the US military services, Miller was officially declared dead a year and a day later. Nobody is sure as to what exactly happened to him and his body was never recovered.

Jodi Sue Huisentruit, Mars in Mrigashira AmK

She was an American news anchor for KIMT in Mason City, Iowa. She disappeared in the early morning hours of June 27, 1995, soon after telling a colleague that she had overslept and was running late for work. Since there were signs of a struggle outside her apartment, Huisentruit is believed to have been abducted. However, extensive investigations failed to uncover any clues to her disappearance, and Huisentruit was declared legally dead in 2001.

Victor Grayson, Mars in Mrigashira AK, Shravana Moon

He was an English socialist politician of the early 20th century. 

On 28 September 1920, Grayson was out drinking with friends when he received a telephone message. He told his friends that he had to go to the Queen's Hotel in Leicester Square and would be back shortly. He did not return and no one knows what happened to him.

It has been speculated that Grayson was murdered to prevent his revealing evidence of corruption.

Salman Rushdie, Sun & Moon in Mrigashira

After his fourth novel, The Satanic Verses (1988), Rushdie became the subject of several assassination attempts and death threats, including a fatwa calling for his death issued by Ruhollah Khomeini, the supreme leader of Iran. Numerous killings and bombings have been carried out by extremists who cite the book as motivation, sparking a debate about censorship and religiously motivated violence. In 2022, a man stabbed Rushdie after rushing onto the stage where the novelist was scheduled to deliver a lecture at the Chautauqua Institution in Chautauqua, New York.

After the fatwa was issued, Rushdie took the name of Joseph Anton and lived in hiding under police protection for several years. The theme of Mrigashira running away and trying to hide manifests once again in this unfortunate example.

Vili Fualaau, Uttara Ashadha Moon, Mrigashira Stellium (Mercury, Mars & Rahu)

In the 90s Vili Fualaau's case made major headlines when Mary Kay Letourneau, his teacher was arrested for raping the 6th grader whom she had known since he was in 2nd grade. She was 34 years old and pregnant with 12 year old Vili's baby 🤢🤮🤢and claimed that she did not know that it was a crime to have sex with minors??  While awaiting sentencing, she gave birth to Fualaau's daughter.

Shortly after Letourneau had completed three months in jail, the police caught her in a car with Fualaau. A judge revoked her plea agreement and reinstated the prison sentence for the maximum allowed by law of seven and a half years. Eight months after returning to prison, she gave birth to Fualaau's second child, another daughter. She was imprisoned from 1998 to 2004. Letourneau and Fualaau were married in May 2005, and the marriage lasted 14 years until their separation in 2019. She died from cancer in 2020 and even though they were separated, Fualaau took care of her until she passed away. He publicly claimed that he never saw anything wrong in their relationship.

Obviously many victims struggle to form a coherent understanding of what happened to them. Some eroticize their experiences, others romanticize them or normalize them. Its often difficult for Mrig natives to fully comprehend or understand the insanity of the really messed up things they went through. Fualaau was groomed and raped by this woman since he was a child yet he held her in positive regard and remained married to her for nearly two decades and took care of her until she passed away?

Its similar to Brooke Shields, Mrig Moon who always spoke glowingly about the mother who made her do a full frontal nude playboy shoot as a 10yr old child??

Mrigashira being a deva gana nakshatra is quick to forgive and forget, it is also a Mridu or gentle nakshatra and often times, just how ??? sympathetic they are towards people who have abused them baffles me.

Gary DeVore- Jupiter in Mrigashira AmK, Uttaraphalguni Sun

He was a Hollywood screenwriter.

DeVore disappeared in June 1997, while driving at night from Santa Fe, New Mexico to Santa Barbara, California, prompting an extensive search and media speculation. DeVore was working in his office in Santa Fe trying to finish a script. DeVore had recently complained of writer's block, and so had decided to change his environment. When he finally finished the script, DeVore decided to drive home through the Mojave Desert. His wife Wendy was waiting for him at their beachfront house in Carpinteria, California. When she did not hear from him, she decided to call around 1 am (it was later discovered the call had not been recorded by the telephone company). He answered, but was not very specific on his location. This was the last time Wendy spoke with him.

A year later, he and his Ford Explorer were discovered submerged below a bridge over the aqueduct in Palmdale, California. After police had retrieved the vehicle from the water, it was found that his laptop containing the script (titled The Big Steal) was missing, as was his gun. DeVore's hands were missing; hand bones were found nearby but could not be conclusively identified as DeVore's. The discovery of DeVore's vehicle was considered suspicious, as the aqueduct was searched shortly after his disappearance was reported and nothing unusual was discovered. Police concluded that for DeVore to crash his vehicle in this location meant that he would have had to have driven 3 mi (4.8 km) against traffic without being seen. This would have been doubly difficult because the vehicle's lights were not switched on. DeVore's death has not been solved to date.

Patty Hearst, Jupiter in Mrigashira AK, Sun & Venus in Shatabhisha (I had previously explored how Shatabhisha natives often endure abuse)

She first became known for the events following her 1974 kidnapping by the Symbionese Liberation Army. She was found and arrested 19 months after being abducted, by which time she was a fugitive wanted for serious crimes committed with members of the group. She was held in custody, and there was speculation before trial that her family's resources would enable her to avoid time in prison.

At her trial, the prosecution suggested that Hearst had joined the Symbionese Liberation Army of her own volition. However, she testified that she had been raped and threatened with death while held captive. At the time of her arrest, Hearst's weight had dropped to 87 pounds (40 kg), and she was described by psychologist Margaret Singer in October 1975 as "a low-IQ, low-affect zombie". Shortly after her arrest, doctors recorded signs of trauma: her IQ was measured as 112, whereas it had previously been 130; there were huge gaps in her memory regarding her pre-SLA life; she was smoking heavily and had nightmares. She is said to have been brainwashed into committing crimes for the SLA

There is a really unfortunate pattern of Mrig natives being brainwashed by others, living in hiding, being on the run and generally feeling unsafe. These are some extreme manifestations of the themes of this nakshatra.

[sweetlikesummerhoney]

forget my words

bumblebee x gn reader

implied mafia! autobots

grinding. dry humping. orgasm.

his arm holds you in an iron grip, his thumb gently rubbing circles into the fabric. he pays you no mind, continuing to enjoy the scenery at the club.

you can faintly hear jazz's laugh as he dances and plays coy, several women hanging off his arms as he smirks down. his rings gleam in the light, and if you were to look a bit closer, you would see the autobot symbol stamped into expensive metal.

optimus' voice is low as he speaks to arcee, gesturing to the papers between them.

the table is slightly sticky as you press your palm against it, boredom filling your chest as you sigh. you're brought closer as bumblebee tugs you closer, his golden eyes gleaming in the limelight of the dimly lit club.

there's a silent question on his lips as he looks you, cocking his head slightly.

you lean your head against his shoulder as he tucks you into his side, eyes closing tiredly.

"nothing's wrong bee. just tired." he presses a soft kiss against your forehead before returning to the conversation between arcee and optimus.

"... if we do this properly, the decepticons won't be able to claim the eastern territory." you see a familiar flash drive get handed over to optimus, watching as icy orbs stare at you.

"is this all?" he questions, and you nod.

"everything i could get my hands on." you fiddle with the rings on bee's hand as you continue.

"knockout has been slowly working on an enhancement drug. something similar to steroids with the way it strengthens the user, unfortunately, it seems whenever someone takes it, they lose all rational. almost mindless, like a puppet."

optimus nods to himself as he pockets the drive, muttering to arcee and bee quietly.

"ratchet will analyze this when we get to base. until then..." his eyes dart between you and bee, before sighing and waving you off.

"relax. have a drink. we'll roll out soon." optimus doesn't wait for an answer as he leaves, the stack of papers securely underneath his arm. arcee yips in excitement as she shimmies out of her seat, looking over her shoulder at the two of you.

"what about you two lover birds?" you miss the way bee's hand presses into your back as he quickly signs back.

we'll stay here.

arcee gives a nasty smile as she sashays away, calling over her shoulder to get a room and get some. maybe it'll finally make bee relax.

bumblebee huffs under his breath before returning to look at you, a small smirk on his face. you feel his body shift against yours as he lifts you, planting you right into his lap.

his lips press against the exposed hollow of your neck as he nips, his arms tightening around your waist. you shudder at the way his warmth bleeds into you, a heavy presence that grounds you.

"bee..." you sigh, watching as his eyes seem to dim. you press the palms of your hands against his chest as he seems to puff up in your hold, flexing his muscles beneath the thin shirt he wears. you feel a sharp jolt as he shifts his hips, trying to get into a more comfortable position as his back straightens.

his eyes gleam dangerously as he noses against you, catching your lips into a soft kiss. flesh melds against flesh as you clutch at his shirt, hips jolting against his as he slowly thrusts against you.

the bulge in his pants slowly grind into your core as you mewl into the kiss.

its slow and sensual, almost pulsing to the music as time seems to stop. all you can feel and see is bumblebee, and all he feels is you.

you gasp as he releases you, eyes roving over your form as you catch your breath.

a single hand reaches between the two of you, his hand dragging down towards his hip with a single question.

now?

you nod and he smirks at you, his eyes crinkling in amusement. your hips drag against him as you wrap your legs against his hips, shuddering at the feeling of his cold rings through the fabric.

one hand on the back of your neck and one cheekily grasping your ass, he stands and walks away from the booth.

the music gets quieter as the hallways expand. you pay no mind to the giggling girls or the barely clad women keening into their partners.

he kicks a door open and shuts it firmly behind you. a single room is seen, a pole in the corner and a full bed in the middle. the lights are dimmed a low red as he lays you down against the bed.

a silent chuckle makes his chest shake as you looks at you, the way your eyes flutter as you pout, making grabby hands at him.

he leans into your touch as you thank him silently, lips pressing back together as he grasps your hips. there's no words spoken as the two of you slowly grind, the seam of his jeans catching against your pelvis as you gasp.

he buries his head into your shoulder as his pace quickens. all you can do is mewl and whimper underneath him, eagerly pressing against his thrusts. his weight settles over you like a storm. covering you in his embrace.

his cock grinds into you as you squirm, legs wrapping against his waist, your shoes clink against each other.

you mewl at the way your body heats up, feeling the slightest bit sticky as you swivel your hips against his. you gasp his name as your core tightens, hips jolting at the relentless pace he's set.

scratching down his back and harshly grasping his jacket, you shudder as you come.

bee doesn't stop. he pays you no mind as he continues to suck hickeys into your neck, shoving you further into the bed as he takes what he needs.

his breath comes out in pants as he pulls back the slightest to look at you. the way your hair splays around you, your eyes filling with unshed tears as you try to desperately climb away from the overstimulation.

the heat in your belly only swells as he slams into you.

he gives you a toothy grin as he signs.

cum again.

you can feel him twitch against you, hot and heavy as he continues to grind into your center, his pace quickening and becoming less rhythmic.

you swear as he presses closer, biting against your shoulder as he forces you into another orgasm. heat washes over you in waves as you keen against him, arching your back as you mewl.

your entrance flutters as you feel him slow, hips jerking heavily as he huffs, his face dotted with sweat as a deep wet patch spreads across the crotch of his pants.

his eyes devour you as he presses his lips again, mockingly thinking for a moment before snapping his finger at you.

again.

you're in for a long night.

[its-vannah]

Vigilante Sh*t | Jacaerys x Reader

A/N: Y'all, this is a bad b*tch fic. Prepare yourselves.

Warnings: Death of a major character, attempted murder, divorce, arranged marriage, marriage, mentions of consummating a marriage, pregnancy

Midnights Masterlist

For as long as you can remember, Lucerys Velaryon had been one of your closest friends. As children, the two of you were much too timid to meddle with politics. You preferred to stay out of the limelight.

That was until you had recieved the news of his death. When a messenger had told you what had happened, you felt your knees give out beneath you.

Don't get sad, get even

Steadying yourself against a nearby wall, you tried to calm your nerves. He wasn't meant to die. Not now, not this young. And you were ready for revenge—even if it meant taking it out on your own husband.

-------------------------------

When it has been announced that you were betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, your family had been thrilled. Finally, one of their children would marry into nobility.

But you were severely disappointed.

From what you had seen, Aemond was a menacing, cruel man who did anything he could to elevate his status. You had heard rumors that, if he could, he'd kill his own brother to become King.

Even Lucerys feared for your safety entering a marriage with him, reminding you that your friendship would be put on hold. But trying to convince your parents to end the betrothal was impossible. It was too late.

Still, Lucerys had persisted.

"Couldn't you be wed to Jace?" He suggested, "He's still nobility. Your parents would be happy, woukdnt they? Please, Y/N, just try."

You raised a brow, "You want me to marry your brother?"

Someone sweet and kind and fun

He shrugged, "I think it'd be quite a nice match, actually."

"It's too late, Luc, I already tried. They'll have my head if I go against their wishes."

With a frown, he admitted defeat, "I just don't want to lose you. You're the closest friend I have. You're like a sister, really."

Pulling him into a hug, you pressed a kiss to his temple, "That will never change, Luc. I promise."

Until you found out that he had died, and your husband had been the one who killed him.

You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

Nothing made your blood boil more. He would regret his decision one way or another.

-------------------------------

Your handmaiden pulled a velvet black dress over your head, lacing it in the back until it was perfectly draped over your body.

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

It was a bold move, on your part. To wear Targaryen black in a sea of Hightower green. But it was a move you were willing to take.

Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man

Tucking a dagger in your bodice, you were ready for revenge.

They say looks can kill and I might try

Making your way to the dining hall, you remained stoic even in your grief. You were going to get your way.

Entering the hall, you moved to sit beside Aemond. Normally, he didn't even bat an eye your way. But when he saw his mother's cold hard stare your direction, his shot you a warning glance.

Taking a seat, he grabbed you by the wrist, practically hissing at you.

"You're upsetting the Queen," He said in a low whisper, "Out of all the gowns you have, you chose one so bold?"

I don't dress for women

You played dumb, "Bold? This is one of my favorites. Didn't you know?"

"Remove it."

I don't dress for men

"Right here? I hardly think its appropriate," You replied, the corners of your mouth going up, "No, I think I'll leave it on."

Tightening his grip on your wrist, he grit his teeth, "Now."

And I don't dress for villains

"My life doesn't revolve around you, Aemond," You hissed, "I'll wear what I wish."

"Don't make me ask you again."

The lady simply had enough

"Don't make me say no, then." You said, eyes narrowing.

And crossing all of mine

Pulling you up from your chair by the wrist, the whole table turned to look at the two of you.

While he was doing lines

Aemond forced a smile on his face, "Excuse us, Lady Y/N has some matters she'd like to discuss."

It was so silent that you could only hear the clicking of Aemond's boots against the stone floor.

I'm on my vigilante shh again

Shoving you into your chambers, you fell back onto the floor, catching yourself with your hands. Reaching into your bodice, you pulled out your dagger, lunging towards him with the weapon held high.

He spun you back, kicking your ankle out, and pinned half of your body to the bed, the dagger now held firmly to your throat.

Through bated breaths, tears pricked your eyes, "You took the life of the one person who meant the world to me."

Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie

"It was an accident."

Grunting, you shook your head, careful to avoid the edge of the knife, "Doesn't change the fact that you didn't, and that he's dead."

He was silent, so you continued, "Let me free. Annul our marriage and I will go without a word."

"A word of what?"

She needed cold hard proof so I gave her some

You inhaled, "The bastard you fathered with my handmaiden. I'm sure your mother would be delighted to hear of it."

"How did you figure it out?"

Someone told his white collar crimes to the FBI

"It wasn't that hard," You said, "Isn't she pregnant again?"

He loosened his grip, "I let you go, and you go without a word?"

"Not a sound," You promised, "And you're secret—and image—will remain intact."

He groaned, pushing himself off of you, "You're a vile woman, you know that?"

"And you're a sick, twisted man."

The marriage was annulled the next morning, and Aemond explained that your marriage had never been consummated. To tell the truth, he had been too drunk to remember if that had been accurate.

Although he was initially denied the request by Allicent, he reminded his mother that, out of all the women in the seventh, he could find another with more power to her name to carry his children. He didn't want the Targaryen name to be soiled by his wife.

After his mother nodded to Aegon, it didn't take long for the marriage to be annulled. By that point, you were already on your way to Driftmark.

You had left with a small trunk of your belongings, opting to leave anything with a hint of your past life with Aemond behind. No green dresses or hair pins, no Hightower crests.

Knowing your family would refuse to allow you back into their home, you went to the only place that ever really felt like home.

Walking into the keep, you were suddenly overcome with grief. You were in the gardens, where you snd Lucerys had chased each other as children.

The memories, however sweet they once were, now felt painful. You tried to push them away, unable to come to terms with your grief.

Kneeling in front of a stone bench, you traced the spot where your initials had been engraved. He had always felt like a brother to you, and now he was gone.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you, and immediately jumped, the hood of your cloak slipping off your head and onto your shoulders.

Turning around, your eyes met Jace Velaryon's. Surprise settled into your body as he looked down on you.

And she looks so pretty

"Y/N?" He asked, convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Jumping up from your spot beside the bench, you wrapped him in a tight embrace, arms thrown around his shoulders.

Your feet dangled off the ground as he returned the embrace, burying his head in your shoulder while supporting your weight.

"I'm sorry, Jace," Your voice was just above a whisper, "I know how much he meant to you."

He just held you tighter in response, setting you back down a moment later, filled with questions.

"How—Why—When—" Jace furrowed his brows, unsure of the reason of your arrival, "Is he here?"

You shook your head, "No, I traveled alone. It'll all make sense soon, I promise. But I need to speak with your mother."

He nodded, "I'll see if I can arrange something later in the day. She's busy at the moment. Please, come inside, it's far too cold to be out here."

-------------------------------

That evening, you spoke with Rhanerya, explaining the events that had brought you to Driftmark. Touched by the love you had for her son, she pulled you into a hug, commending your bravery and sacrifice.

She welcomed you to stay with open arms, and instructed her eldest son to help you get settled.

That's when something in you switched. During the next few months at Driftmark, you and Jace became closer and closer, eventually sharing a kiss in the gardens on the very bench he had found you.

It wasn't even a month later that the two of you were wed in a large ceremony, with the people of Driftmark in attendance.

For the first time since you had been shipped off to marry Aemond, and since Luc had died, you were genuinely happy.

After the wedding, Jace took you back to your shared chambers, kissing you softly, "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. I'll be waiting when you're ready."

Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

But nothing could keep you away from your husband. Pulling him down on the bed, you consummated your marriage that night. On that same night, unbeknownst to you, you conceived your first child.

The next time you saw your ex-husband, he was in chains in the middle of Driftmark, at the mercy of Queen Rhaenyra. And you were standing beside Jace, his hand on your swollen stomach as she decided his face.

You couldn't help but smile. Luc may not have been with you, but you couldn't have been happier alongside your husband, as the new princess, waiting for the arrival of your first child.

I don't start it, but I can tell you how it ends

Gazing up at Jace, he caught your eyes, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

[ho-for-joequinn-fics]

Display of Death

A/N: Just another Emperor Geta fic, this time inspired by a dream I had. The beginning part and smut wasn’t part of the dream, but I wanted to add some sort of backstory for the reader and extra context for this. Either way, enjoy my fellow Emperor Geta whores. This one is a dark one 😘

Emperor Geta x senator’s daughter!Reader (the reader’s age isn’t specified in this fic, but she can be in her 20s or 30s depending on your personal preference.)

warnings: 18+ only! This fic is not for minors, so DNI! mentions of a character being drugged into a state of incapacitation, psychotic!reader, possessive!reader, descriptions of murder, dismemberment and public display of a human corpse, horny!Geta (he’s into that savage murder shit 😏), unprotected p in v smut, profanity, etc

At first it wasn’t easy for Emperor Geta to choose the woman he wanted to make his future Empress. He had met several candidates over the course of a week and not a single one met the high standards he held, neither of them had the bravery, bold confidence, vulgar display of power, or even the beauty that he was looking for.

That was until you caught his attention.

You weren’t even one of the women that were chosen as a potential candidate, you were just the daughter of a senator who kept you out of the limelight of the Roman Empire your whole life. Of course that finally backfired on your father when you managed to drug him with the sedatives you asked your lifelong caretaker to smuggle in to you so you could sneak out for a night to finally have some sense of freedom.

You were wandering the grounds of Palatine Hill when you unfortunately ran into General Acacius, who also happened to be accompanied by Emperor Geta. You hadn’t met either of the Emperors prior to this, your father made sure to keep you as far away from them as possible, and with reason.

“Y/N? What are you doing out so late by yourself? Where is your father?” The General had a nervous frown on his face as he marched towards you, but you simply rolled your eyes in response. Your father had him wrapped around his finger when it came to making sure you were out of the public eye.

“Is it a crime to go for a late night walk?” You crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring his question regarding the whereabouts of your father, you didn’t need him getting in the way of your plans. “Last I checked, I’m a grown woman who has every right to do what I want without my father’s selfish ass controlling my every move.”

“You know how he feels about you going out--”

“And I don’t give a damn how that piece of shit feels!” You snapped, a fire in your eyes as you stepped towards General Acacius and jabbed your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who the fuck he or you are, if I want to choose my freedom over his ridiculous prison-like rules, then I’m going to! I’m done letting him keep me hidden away like I’m some sort of fucking embarrassment to him!”

“You know that’s not why he keeps you out of the public eye.”

“The other senators don’t keep their daughters hidden away like he does with me. Now why is that, huh? Tell me!” Your anger was rising and patience wearing thin, not paying any mind to the Emperor who was now completely enamored with you and the rage you exuded, you were the full center of his attention.

“I can’t say.”

You laid a harsh smack across the General’s face before forcefully grabbing him by the jaw so you could stare him in the eyes. “Tell me or I’ll fucking kill you, Marcus.” Your cold, dark eyes held truth to your words, which had him swallowing thickly. He knew you weren’t fibbing, he could feel the blade of the dagger you were now pressing against his jugular.

Where the hell was she hiding that dagger?

“He keeps you hidden from them.” His eyes flicked towards the right in the direction of where Emperor Geta was standing watching the whole ordeal play out, but his voice was barely above a whisper so Geta couldn’t hear his answer to your question.

You laughed bitterly at that, sheathing your dagger back into its place before stepping away from General Acacius. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Keeping me prisoner all these years because he’s afraid they’d corrupt me? Well the joke’s on him because he’s the reason I turned into a full blown psychopath!”

You clenched your fists by your sides as you turned away from him, now staring back towards the direction of your luxurious home where your incapacitated father currently resided. “He’s lucky I only drugged him into a coma, I very well could have slit his throat like I wanted to. I have some restraint, you know.”

The General zoomed past you towards your house to make sure your dad was still alive and breathing and you only scoffed before turning to finally face Emperor Geta, taking in the sight of his extremely handsome features for the first time since he became Emperor. The way he was staring at you with a carnal desire made your heart pound away in your chest, but it’s what he said next that filled you with an excitement you’d never felt before.

“I’ve finally found my future Empress.”

~

Thanks to Emperor Geta, you finally earned the freedom you’d been craving for the majority of your teenaged and adult life. He ordered for your father to be arrested for wrongful imprisonment and had him stripped of his senatorial title. Your father begged for leniency, but Geta wasn’t having it. He told your father his punishment was lenient enough because he could have had him killed instead. You wouldn’t have minded that, if you were being honest.

Word spread quite quickly that Emperor Geta had chosen you to be his Empress-to-be and to say that most of the girls who were actual candidates were displeased about that decision is an understatement. They discussed amongst themselves how it was unfair that he chose you instead of one of them and came up with a plan to try and get Emperor Geta to change his mind and pick one of them instead. Little did they know, that plan was going to backfire.

Those girls had zero clue of how psychotic you were, how when something was rightfully yours, you would fight for it to the death, and of course that something in this case was Emperor Geta. The night you two first met, he took you back to his chambers at the palace where you spent the whole night into the morning talking and getting to know each other. By morning it was as though you’d known each other your whole lives, you were officially inseparable.

The girls enacted their plan as soon as possible, deciding they would one by one flirt and be extra friendly with Emperor Geta until he caved and chose one of them to be his Empress instead. Except only one of them was able to attempt their plan before you got your hands on her and showed the rest of them you were not to be trifled with. When you realized what they were up to, it had your blood boiling and thinking about how they had the audacity to try and steal him from you when it was you that he clearly wanted, not them.

After stealing borrowing some weaponry from The Colosseum armory, you stalked the first girl who attempted to flirt with Geta and steal his attention and heart from you, waiting until dusk and when she was completely vulnerable before striking her down. When your time to shine arrived, the first thing you did was repeatedly force your dagger into her spinal cord to render her paralyzed. The maniacal laugh you let out as she collapsed with pained gasps sent haunting shivers right through her.

Your pupils were blackened with a murderous rage as you stood above her, staring down at her with a twisted grin as you unsheathed the sword you had taken from the armory. “You see, this all could have been avoided had you not schemed behind my back to steal what’s rightfully mine. I don’t take lightly to jealous little girls thinking they can convince my husband-to-be into picking one of them over me. There’s a reason he didn’t choose any of you. If only you could have gotten that through your thick skulls so none of you had to die.”

“Please...” She gasped, trying to reach out to grab you but unable to do so due to the traumatic injury to her spinal cord. “You don’t have to do this.” She really thought begging and pleading was going to help her case. How cute.

“Too late. I’m already committed.” You gave her a wicked grin this time before severing one of her arms clean off with the newly sharpened sword, watching with a sadistic sense of pride as blood spewed out of her wound. Her anguished scream had you inhaling deeply through your nose with closed eyes as you relished in the delightful sound, your grin only growing more wicked. “Aaahh I love the sound of suffering in the evening.”

Not another word was spoken from her before you were quite literally hacking her into pieces, your final blow cutting her head clean off her torso. But you weren’t done with her yet, oh no, you had to show all of the other girls the consequence of trying to take what’s yours. The first thing you did was impale her head on a stake and publicly displayed it for all of Rome to see come tomorrow. Then you scattered the rest of her remains around the spot where you placed the stake and used her blood to write a warning on the adjacent wall.

After arriving at the palace not long after finishing your deadly duties, you quickly cleaned yourself up before slipping into bed in Geta’s chambers, finding comfort in his bed rather than your own. He wasn’t there at the moment, he was still unfortunately dealing with some important matters regarding the next gladiatorial contest at The Colosseum, but you were quite content either way. Your adrenaline was still rampant after what you’d just done out of full blown possessive love. You couldn’t wait to tell Geta all about it.

~

Screams of terror. That’s what woke you out of your peaceful slumber and it had you grinning deviously knowing exactly what the screams were about. Geta stirred beside you, opening his eyes with displeased grumbles about how it was too early to be woken by people screaming bloody murder.

You turned on your side to face him with a cheeky grin, reaching to gently brush your thumb against his cheekbone. “That would be my fault, my love. It seems someone’s discovered my lovely display of death that I put out last night.”

Geta gave his head a curious tilt to the side, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean by "display of death"?” He knew you couldn’t have killed your father and put him on public display as a way of getting back at him after all those years being imprisoned in your own home since he was now locked up for life himself, so who exactly did you kill?

“Why those girls who were chosen as candidates to be your potential future Empress were conspiring against me to steal you away from me, so I taught them a lesson by brutally murdering and dismembering the first girl who even dared to try stealing your attention and heart from me. Now she’s on public display for everyone to see and know that their future Empress is just as sadistic and unhinged as the Emperor she’s set to marry.”

Geta’s heart fluttered wildly in his chest at your confession, falling even more in love with you over the fact that you were so willing to kill over him. Grinning widely at you, he reached out to cup your cheek in his hand. “Oh, my beloved, you are so beautiful, violent, and vulgar. I just knew I made the right choice in choosing you to be my Empress.” Immediately his lips were on yours, his other hand cupping your other cheek as he rolled over until he was positioned on top of you, rolling his hips forward to let you feel how hard he’d become.

You moaned wantonly at the feeling of his hard cock grinding against your clothed center, rocking your hips in tandem with his own movements as you reached to start stripping him of his sleep robe. “Please, my liege, I need you.” You murmured into the kiss, your fingers gliding down the center of his bare chest towards his erection where your fingers wrapped firmly around the base.

“Whatever my bride-to-be wants, my bride-to-be gets.” He mused as he brought his own hands down to start ridding you of your own garments, carelessly tossing them to the floor before bringing you into another kiss just as he glided his length through your arousal soaked folds. “Mmm... Already so wet for me?” He pushed into your sopping cunt then, earning a mewl mixed with pain and pleasure from you as your walls swallowed up each thick inch of him.

“Oh my gods, you’re so big.” You whimpered, your eyes rolling into the back of your head once he set a steady rhythm in thrusts, your legs wrapping firm around his waist while your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders. You could already feel the fire within your belly growing, knowing you probably weren’t going to last very long seeing how this was your first time and you had yet to build up your sexual stamina. Your eyes moved to look up at Geta as he fucked into you, your gazes meeting and further feeding the fires growing within both of you.

“You feel so divine, beloved. Buried inside you is my official favorite place to be. Not even the deadliest of gladiatorial contests beats being buried inside this perfect wet cunt of yours.” He moaned delightedly as he kept your gaze, resting each hand at either side of your head nestled against the pillows beneath it, grinning from ear to ear at your pleased moan in response to his words. He dipped his head down after a minute to start kissing and nipping along your throat, then up towards your jaw, working his way back towards your mouth where he kissed you with fervor.

Tongues collided as you returned his kiss with matching passion and energy, your fingers working their way into his hair where you gave harsh tugs as a way of showing how good he was fucking you, the nails of your other hand dragging down the length of his shoulder blade. “Just like that, my love. M’not gonna last very much longer.” You murmured with a particularly harsh squeeze around his length, earning a guttural moan from his throat that sent shivers of arousal right through you.

“I’m close too. You just feel so good, beloved.” He sighed contently, lowering one of his hands to find your clit so he could rub gentle but quick circles into it, pulling a pleased cry from your throat. “Let go for me. Want us to cum together, can you let go for me?” He hummed as he kept up his pace and force in thrusts, applying a little more pressure to his rubs on your clit until you were finally clenching tight around his cock and coming undone with a loud cry of his name, him right there with you as he filled you with a guttural moan of your name.

“Thank you.” You panted, finally breaking the silence after the two of you came down from your highs, Geta’s head lifting from where he had nuzzled it against your breasts with a satisfied smile. For your first time being intimate together, this was better than how either of you imagined it to be, but you knew the more sex you had, the more mindblowing it would become. Personally he couldn’t wait until you were ready for him to make you scream on his cock while he fucked his heir into you.

“Mmmm thank you.” He leaned in to press a softer kiss to your lips this time, pulling back after a few moments with a smile. “Shall we get dressed and check out that lovely display of death you created?”

“I would love nothing more.”

Thank you for reading! I know it’s kinda short and the smut isn’t the best I’ve written, but comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 🥺

Tagging: @userchai @myherometalhead

[astrogurujimayanksblog]

Detailed Vedic Astrology Observations: Insights and Key Trends

Vedic astrology is a complex and intricate system that provides profound insights into individual characteristics, life paths, and spiritual evolution. It goes beyond the surface level of personality traits and delves into the deeper aspects of karmic lessons, soul purpose, and cosmic alignments. In this article, we will explore several key observations that have been gathered from years of studying birth charts, particularly focusing on prominent ascendants, planets, and nakshatras that shape the lives of individuals in distinct ways.

Libra Ascendant: Beauty, Mystery, and Magnetism

Libra ascendant women, ruled by Venus, often possess an undeniable charm and beauty. What sets them apart, however, is their inherent mystery and allure. Venus not only governs their first house of identity but also their eighth house of transformation, death, and hidden matters. This dual rulership creates a deeply magnetic aura, making these women highly seductive and passionate.

Their allure is not just limited to physical beauty; it extends to their emotional depth and the mysterious energy they radiate. Their sensuality is palpable, and they often carry an intense sexual appeal, which can be hard for others to ignore. Interestingly, women who have their first house lord placed in the eighth house, or vice versa, tend to exhibit similar traits.

Venus in Leo: The Beauty Queens of the Zodiac

Among the numerous birth charts studied, a noticeable trend is the abundance of Venus in Leo placements in the horoscopes of models and public figures. This isn't surprising, considering that Leo, ruled by the Sun, represents visibility, prominence, and radiance. Individuals with this placement naturally shine brighter than others, often taking center stage in their social circles.

Women with Venus in Leo embody the archetype of the beauty queen—bold, radiant, and commanding attention wherever they go. Their attractiveness is often striking and seems tailor-made for the limelight. This placement gives them an air of confidence that elevates their beauty in the eyes of others.

Aquarius Ascendant: Intangible and Detached

Aquarius ascendant individuals, particularly women, possess a unique sense of self. Their identity is often intertwined with abstract, intangible concepts, given that their ascendant lord, Saturn, also rules their twelfth house, the house of subconscious and spiritual dissolution. This leads them to be far removed from the typical concerns of ego or vanity.

However, this also results in an apparent disconnection from reality. These women may seem aloof or distant, but this detachment is what drives them toward greater philosophical or spiritual pursuits. Their path is one of self-undoing, pushing them to rise above worldly concerns and focus on the ethereal.

Mrigasira Nakshatra: Doe-Eyed Beauty and Innocence

One of the standout physical traits of individuals, especially women born under the Mrigasira nakshatra, is their doe-eyed appearance. The symbolism of Mrigasira, representing a deer sniffing the ground, is reflected in their soft, gentle eyes that evoke a sense of innocence and vulnerability. Both men and women with this placement often have large, expressive eyes that mirror the beauty of a deer.

Additionally, many of these women are naturally drawn to wearing their hair in braids, a reflection of Mrigasira's association with weaving and protection. The act of braiding symbolizes the deer’s need to blend into its environment to avoid danger, highlighting the protective and nurturing qualities of this nakshatra.

Pisces Ascendant: Occult Wisdom and Mysticism

Women with Pisces ascendant are often drawn to occult and esoteric knowledge, thanks to Venus ruling both their third and eighth houses. Their curiosity about the mysterious and unknown is more than just a passing interest—it is a romanticized and deeply emotional connection to the hidden truths of the universe. The influence of Venus makes their pursuit of such knowledge tinged with a sense of love and devotion.

Their lives are often marked by a strong pull toward spirituality, mysticism, and hidden realms, making them naturally intuitive and empathetic individuals.

Rahu Conjunct Venus: The Seduction of Beauty and Love

Women with Rahu conjunct Venus in their charts can easily become lost in a world of indulgence, romance, and beauty. Rahu, the shadow planet, amplifies the qualities of Venus, leading these women to experience life through the lens of desire, sensuality, and attraction. Their experiences with love and beauty are often intense and karmic, filled with lessons about the darker side of these pursuits.

Despite the challenges, these women possess an almost hypnotic attractiveness that draws people toward them. Their journey often involves learning about the deeper meanings of love and relationships, transcending superficial attraction.

Saturn Conjunct Venus: Lessons in Love and Devotion

In contrast to Rahu's influence, Saturn conjunct Venus brings a more grounded and enduring approach to love. Women with this placement tend to be devoted, loyal partners, willing to work through the trials of long-term relationships. They understand that love is not always easy or glamorous, and they are often willing to commit through difficult times.

However, this conjunction can also cause significant insecurity regarding their beauty. Saturn's critical nature makes them prone to self-doubt, particularly in their appearance. Over time, though, they learn to accept and embrace their beauty, developing a quiet confidence that grows stronger as they age.

Nakshatras with Sharp and Dreadful Qualities: Ardra, Ashlesha, Jyeshta, and Mula

These four nakshatras—Ardra, Ashlesha, Jyeshta, and Mula—are known for their intense, challenging energies. Despite the hardships they represent, the women born under these nakshatras are deeply mystical and hypnotic. They have an uncanny ability to transform through their struggles and emerge stronger, often possessing a level of spiritual depth that others find captivating.

These nakshatras carry the energy of destruction and rebirth, making those born under them naturally drawn to intense experiences that ultimately lead to personal transformation.

Visakha Nakshatra: Intensity and Obsession in Relationships

Women with significant placements in Visakha nakshatra, especially when it involves their Venus, Mars, or seventh house lord, tend to be intensely ambitious and obsessive when it comes to relationships. This nakshatra is known for its drive and focus, which, in the context of love and partnerships, can manifest as a fixation on their partners.

While this intensity can sometimes overwhelm others, it also leads to incredible devotion and loyalty. These women love deeply and are willing to invest their energy into building lasting, committed relationships.

[kingkatsuki]

I DONT/HAVENT WATCHED LOVE ISLAND SO THIS IS JUST BASED ON SIMILAR SHOWS but this is love island/no quirk AU

But maybe the producer keep pushing bakugou and you apart with challenges and rigged votes for drama and to make you two both fool around with other people, but both you and bakugou start shutting down interest in any other people.

Then the public get bored and vote bakugou off, leaving you in the house. Bakugou does one or two interviews about the experience but is vague in his interest in you, just saying he wishes you the best and yeah he thought the two of you had chemistry in the villa.

Cut to a week or two later when you get voted out and the paparazzi are ready to watch you get off the plane home, only to be surprised when you stop in shock at something a couple meters in front of you before leaving your bag behind as you run into a man’s arms. Photographers are already clicking away as you jump up, swinging your arms around the mystery man’s neck, and they catch the moment that your movement makes his hat fall off, pictures capturing the moment bakugou’s hat flies off onto the ground and his blonde hair is revealed. They especially get the moment you rip off his face mask, it falling to the ground, and reveal his bright smile, mirroring yours before you both lean in for a desperate kiss. They continue taking pictures until after bakugou has put you back down and gone back to get your bag before taking your hand and walking you out of the airport.

10+ years later there’s an article like You Won’t Believe What These Love Island Contestants Are Doing Now! and no one is still together. Some are married to other people, some are doing normal jobs, some are still trying to stay in the limelight. And then there’s Bakugou and you, saved till last on the list. The article has put a beautiful picture from your wedding, followed by a smiling picture of the 4 of you, you 2 and your 2 kids, maybe even a picture of you two smiling sweetly down at one of your pregnancy bumps. You two are the only ones still together, only posting occasionally to a shared public account to fans who still think of you two after all these years, but every picture shares the same loving energy, your smiles, even bakugou’s crooked ones, beaming through the pictures

When a new girl comes in to the villa you already know what’s going to happen, your eyes meet Bakugou’s across the garden and you can just tell he’s thinking the exact same thing.

A recoupling.

You’re not worried about Bakugou, why would you be? Prettier girls than you have come into the villa and had their sights set on him, but he’s proved time and time again that he’s loyal to you and you alone. Coming back from Casa Amor without anyone else hanging off his arm solidified the fact that there’s no one else for you in this show. If he goes home, you’d walk out too— because he’s it for you.

Of course Bakugou feels the exact same way. When he sees this new pretty blonde practically skipping into the villa with her heels clicking against the hardwood floor he knows it’s supposed to be another test, a challenge sent in to split up the “power couple”. And he almost feels sorry for her, really. Knowing that most women would kill to make it to the final and have a chance at winning the prize money, and maybe find love at the same time. But this new girl? She probably won’t even last the week.

“You okay?” Bakugou bumps his knee against yours as you sit on one of the sofas away from everyone else.

“M’fine.” You smile back, taking a sip from your glass.

You can already see her making eyes at Bakugou from where she is talking to Denki, his arms waving animatedly as he almost sloshes his drink all over the short sparkly dress she’s wearing. He’s grafting, but she’s clearly not paying attention as you watch her begin to make her way across the grass towards you.

“She’s gonna pull you,” You smile into your glass as he lays a large palm on your thigh to squeeze it reassuringly.

“I hate that fuckin’ rule,” He mutters beneath his breath, hoping the mics won’t pick up on it.

It’s a rule that you have to go for a chat no matter who asks, even if you don’t want to. Yet another way for them to stir up drama and make good television you supposed, although it seemed more like a waste of time for everyone. Especially when Bakugou wasn’t interested.

“Hey, Bakugou,” She smiles directly at him, as if you’re not even sitting beside him, “Can I pull you for a quick chat?”

“Sure,” He nods, but you feel his fingers tighten against your thigh as he exhales softly.

“I’ll go, you can sit here.” You smile back, offering to get up to give them both the space as you make your leave.

Turning towards you as he reaches up to place a palm behind your neck, his thumb brushing your jawline as he pulls you into a sultry kiss. The poor girl still standing there silently as his tongue swipes against your flavoured lip gloss, collecting it against his own lips as he pulls away with a grin.

“I’ll be there in a sec.” He breathes before letting you go, his eyes focused on the sway of your ass as you walk towards the rest of the group.

You both called it, that same night there’s a recoupling. And of course the new girl gets to pick first.

There are gasps all around as she practically sings Bakugou’s name, explaining her choice came down to the time she’d spent with people inside the villa (even though Denki had been practically attached to her hip), and the connection she “felt” she had with him.

Bakugou almost doesn’t walk towards her as he stands in shock, Kirishima’s hand pressing him forward by the small of his back is what it takes for him to go and sit beside her.

You end up paired with Denki, a friendship couple used to ensure you don’t end up going home tonight. A close call when so far everyone else is in a couple already. Bakugou could practically kiss Denki himself for saving you as he bounds over to you when the recoupling is over. Cupping your face and asking if you’re okay.

It’s a shock when it comes down to a public vote for the most popular couples a few days later and you’re voted in the top with Denki, even though you’re in a friendship couple. And it’s even more of a shock when Bakugou and the new girl are voted in the bottom. Your heart thudding against your ribcage as you wait to find out who’s going home, and it ends up being Bakugou—

You can’t believe it, the tears stream down your face as you deadpan that you’re going home too. What’s the point in staying when he’s not here? But Bakugou doesn’t let you quit, not when it could be the summer of your lifetime, and you could win the prize money. You’re bawling that there’s no one else in here for you, and you don’t even want to try if he’s not here. But he convinces you to stay.

But it’s not the same without him, barely a week passes before there’s another recoupling and you end up alone. The guys that had been sent in nothing compared to Bakugou, so why would you even try? You should’ve just left with him that day, because your heart wasn’t in it.

And now you’d probably messed up your one chance at love, because there was no way Bakugou would be watching you trying to crack on with other guys while he’s back at home alone.

So imagine your surprise when you step off the plane into an almost deserted airport after flying in during the early hours of the morning, to see Bakugou standing there waiting for you. The few paparazzi that are there snapping away as they capture the kiss— he doesn’t even want to let go of you, burying his face in your neck as he breathes you in.

“I fuckin’ missed you, woman.”

“It’s your fault,” You tease, “You made me stay in there.”

“Ain’t never lettin’ you go again.”

It’s the way he takes your bag in one hand as he wraps his arm around you, shielding you from the flashing cameras as he takes you out of the airport. And every news station is trying to be the first to get an interview with you both when you’re out of the villa, excited to see that you’re still together and it wasn’t just for show. The internet is going insane because Bakugou should’ve never been voted out in the first place, and there are so many cute screenshots and memes of you both from the villa.

And then you’re still together 10+ down the line, and Bakugou still can’t believe he found the love of his life in a trashy dating show that he didn’t even want to go on.

[warwickroyals]

Sunderland's Royal Jewel Vault (30/∞) ♛

↬ Queen Anne's Sunburst Tiara

Several of Queen Anne’s tiaras are recognizable, but her sunburst tiara might be in another league. Over the past 70 years, the tiara has been at the centre of two of Sunderland’s most famous royal weddings. The tiara is much newer than many would assume, commissioned by Queen Anne in 1939, it was made of diamonds gifted to Anne by Queen Alexandra on her wedding day. The tiara was initially meant to be a fringe tiara, once popular at the Russian Imperial court, but Anne insisted on a different profile; the royal family already had multiple fringe tiaras: Queen Caroline’s fringe tiara/necklace, Queen Matilda Mary’s Pearl fringe, and the City of Warwick fringe to name them. This new tiara, with its multiple spiked high points that resembled sunrays, was a unique addition. Over the decades tiara alternated between Anne and her daughter-in-law, Queen Katherine. Anne and Katherine rarely saw eye-to-eye but their like of the tiara was one thing they had in common. In 1968, both women agreed to loan the tiara to Lady Irene Wynn for her wedding to the Prince of Danforth, the future King Louis V. The tiara completed Irene’s romantic wedding look, with a commentator noting that the young bride looked as if she’d been “crowned by the sun”. Similar statements were made when Princess Jacqueline wore the tiara for her wedding to Lawrence Belmont almost thirty years later. Ever since, the tiara has been consistently listed as a likely bridal diadem by bookmakers—despite it not being donned by a royal bride since Princess Jacque’s nuptials. Today, the tiara remains in the possession of Queen Irene, who wears it once every blue moon. Perhaps a royal wedding is what’s needed for the sunburst tiara to be in the limelight again.

Queen Katherine wears the tiara for a 1959 promotional image. She infamously didn't like this photograph.

Queen Anne wears the tiara in the early 1970s, one of her last public appearances before her retirement and subsequent death.

[evermore-fashion]

Met Gala 2023: My Top 5 Men’s Looks

I’ve had a few messages asking for my favourite men’s look from the Met Gala 2023, despite the fact I wasn’t overly enamoured by what I saw from the men this year. So I thought I’d share with you all my top 5 men’s looks as there were a few that I did like even though I feel like the women shined a lot brighter when it came to their outfits. 

Like before this post is just my opinions on fashion, it’s not absolute and you’re all welcome to either agree or disagree with me.

1. Conan Gray wearing Balmain I won’t lie. I roasted Conan for his 2022 Met Gala look so I was really surprised to see he had stepped it up with this amazing outfit from Balmain. Every time I look at it I fall more in love with it because it’s both masculine and feminine from head to toe. Plus I love how the pearls are placed throughout his outfit as well the fan that just adds that touch of flamboyance thats needed for an outstanding Met Gala look.

2. Brian Tyree Henry wearing Karl Largerfield Just like Conan, Brian nailed his look which was obviously helped by the fact he was wearing an outfit from the late designer. Regardless though, I felt it suited Brian to tee even with the large ruffle coat that oddly didn’t overwhelm him nor did it detract from twist on an the classic men’s suit thats become a trend in recent years.

3. Eddie Redmayne wearing Alexander McQueen Eddie seems to be a spokesperson for the McQueen brand these days as I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear another designer when it comes to public events. The suit itself is a classic suit but I love the silver broaches and how they are placed from shoulder to shoulder with a drop on his chest and connected by chains. It looks like expensive raindrops and I love it. Also I love Hannah's classic McQueen gown, they compliment each other perfectly.

4. Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs wearing Sean John Whilst I’m not a fan of Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs I can’t help but love his look, even if it’s from his own fashion house. The look compliments the theme perfectly whilst still being a haute couture look that you can tell is more about Sean than Karl Lagerfield. Overall it screams modern vampire who’s there to steal the limelight (and probably your blood) and I’m honestly here for it. 

5. Pedro Pascal wearing Valentino I don’t know why but I really love the whole look on Pedro. Perhaps it’s the vibrant red that just like Salma Hayek’s gown, was actually palette cleanser from all the black & white that graced the stairs of the Met Gala. Or perhaps it’s because Pedro is killing it in The Last of Us as well as The Mandalorian and is the internet’s heartthrob. All in all I can’t not love this look and it just goes to show that he can wear anything and still look handsome. 

[allthefandomthings55]

Life in the Limelight

Chapter 4

Y/N POV

Friday night 10 PM

I’ve already sent my security home for the night and am sitting at my kitchen table having a glass of white wine when my phone rings. I look down to see the name Spencer Reid. I answer the call, “Hello Spencer. What’s up?”

“Hi, Y/N uh nothings up per se, but I was calling to tell you that I, uh, I can make our brunch thing tomorrow if you were still up for it?”

“Still up for it? Absolutely! I mean did everything work out with work?”

“Oh yeah we found them or her rather.”

“Wow a woman? I would have never guessed that.”

“Well actually although women serial killers aren’t common they do make up about 15% of serial killers. Sorry you did not want to know that.”

“No it’s alright! That was an interesting fact. What time did we say for tomorrow again? Was it 1:00?”

“No, it was 12:30. Sorry not trying to correct you but I have an eidetic memory so I can remember pretty much everything I read.”

“Woah, that is so cool. So like you only have to read chapters once and you have them memorized?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s gotta be helpful on tests.”

“Oh it is. I mean I have three Ph. D.s and a few Masters and a couple of B.A.s”

“Oh, that’s a lot. So you’re like really freaking smart.”

“I like to think so, but that makes me sound arrogant.”

“No it doesn’t! Not when someone else is asking you. Anyways, I’m going to head to bed because I think I’ve had one too many glasses of wine to be talking to an extremely handsome guy on the phone.”

“Oh, ok yeah I will see you tomorrow. Bye.”

“Bye Spencer.” Once I hung up I realized what I said and froze for a moment. I cannot believe I said that. I finished my glass of wine and went to bed.

NEXT MORNING

I woke up at 6:30 Saturday morning and got a little excited about my brunch with Spencer today. Instead I go get ready to work out for today to get my blood flowing. I need to keep working my cardio for my upcoming tour so I start on the treadmill. After I run on the treadmill for a couple of hours I decide to hit the weights. Not much weight but many repetitions. I checked the time after I finished that and it was 9:00. Once I took a shower and only got halfway dressed for the day I went back down to my kitchen. Since it is close to my brunch, I decide just to get a cup of coffee and eat some fruit. When I was done with that I sat and relaxed for a while on my couch. I started to watch some TV. I don’t get to do that often so I took advantage of the down time while I had it. When I checked the time it was 11:00 and I figured I better get ready if I wanted to be on time. Looking through my closet, I decided to wear a black skirt with a white grid on it. I also wore a white sweater; not anything heavy, but something longsleeved that’s light. That last couple parts of my outfit should be the easiest. For my shoes I decide on a black platform that are five inches tall and a simple black handbag big enough to put my cell phone and some cash in. 

At about 12:00 I started to head to the restaurant. I leave out the back way and drove myself to the restaurant. When I get there, I park on the side and call my friend Bella who owns the restaurant. “Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

“Oh nothing much. I was hoping that you could let me in the back so I didn’t have to deal with people staring at me?”

“Oh yeah yeah I got you. Give me a second.” After waiting just for a couple of minutes she opens the door and pops her head out. “Hey get on in here.”

I follow her in through the door, “So, I’m actually meeting someone here and I was hoping you could tell your staff to escort him to my private table? I just don’t want to make a huge commotion.”

Bella smiles at me, “You have a date don’t you!”

I shush her, “Be quiet! I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”

“That’s not a no,” she sings quietly. 

“Ok, yes I am meeting a man here, but no it’s not a date. It’s merely brunch or more so lunch.”

“But you want it to be a date.”

“Yes, Bella, I would like it to be a date. This one is different! He doesn’t even know who I am! He came up to me at a coffee shop and we talked for an hour about the book I was reading, the book he is reading, the books we have read and want to read. Not once did he say ‘Can I get an autograph?’ or ‘Oh my got you’re global superstart Y/F/N!’ he just spoke with me like I was a normal person.”

Bella thought for a moment, “What happens when he does find out though?”

I sighed, “That’s why I’m going to tell him here and now; as long as I don’t chicken out.” Bella laughed at that, “Hey don’t laugh, I’m serious. He’s really cute and I think, well I think that he would maybe actually date me.”

Bella stared at me, “Holy shit, you’re serious,” I nodded, “well in that case I wish you good luck and I’ll be your waitress so I can keep an eye on you guys.” 

I gave her a hug, “Thank you so much. Anyways, I’m going to sit down, can you bring two glasses of water to our table?”

“You already know it! Now go sit!” Laughing you went to go sit down and texted Spencer. 

Me

Hey, I’m here. Just tell the hostess my name and they’ll bring you. 

Spencer

Perfect. I’m almost there. See you soon.

While I waited I answered a few texts and wrote down some good ideas for lyrics. “Hey,” you looked up and saw Spencer. 

“Hi Spencer! Good to see you.” 

Spencer sat down in front of you. “Good to see you too. How have you been?”

“Oh I’m good. Just a little busy. How are you?”

Spencer sighed, “I’m as good as I can be at the moment. This last case was kind of tough but we caught the woman doing it so it’s all good.”

“A woman? Interesting. Why would a woman harm other women?”

Spencer took in an excited breath, “Well, women offend for many different reasons. Assuming they aren’t psychopaths, women might offend other women because they are a surrogate for an abusive mother, a woman that got with their ex-boyfriend, or any other of that variety. However- wait nevermind, you probably don’t want to hear this.”

I stared at him in awe, “Woah, that was amazing. How did you know all of that?”

He looked surprised, “Well, I’m actually in the FBI. I’m in a specialized group called the BAU also know as the Bahvioral Analysis Unit. We get called in to different police departments when they are having trouble with killings happening.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. I mean well it’s not great that people are dying, but it’s amazing that you guys go in and help them.”

He stared at me, “Uh, yeah but that’s what I do for work, what about you?”

I cleared my throat, “I, uh, I sing.” I chickened out hardcore and decided not to tell him about my superstar status that I have. 

“Oh, well that’s fun. Do you sing at bars or nightclubs?” he asked inqusitevely. 

“Oh, uh, that’s actually where I got my start. I went from bars and nightclubs, to the opera, then to writing and producing my own music.” I was so nervous speaking that he definitely knew. 

He looked confused, “So how do you make money now?”

“Um, there’s no easy way to say this but I’m a global popstar. I make money through music. And I was really nervous about telling you this because I loved how you didn’t know me at that coffee shop and talked to me like I was a normal person and I really don’t want you to think of me differently.” I rambled out so fast I doubted he could even understand me.

He held out his hand, palm up, waiting for me to grab it and I do, “Don’t worry about that. To me, you are just that really cute girl that I met in a coffee shop reading The Odyssey in Greek.”

I looked him in the eyes, “You think I’m cute?”

He blushed, “Uh, well, I -uh yeah I do,” he stammered out. 

I smiled, “Well it’s a good thing I think you’re cute too.” He smiled at that. Bella came around and took our order and we spent the next hour talking and eating. Just getting to know each other. Although Spencer offered I told him that I’d cover the bill and he let me after I spent fifteen minutes convincing him. 

After I got to my apartment, he texted me asking if I got home alright. I responded yes and asked him the same thing and he said yes as well. I flopped on the couch just thinking that although it was unintentional, this wasn’t a horrible first date. 

[youremyheaven]

Lana Del Rey: Kibbe Analysis

My one big issue with discussions of Kibbe IDs is how we seldom consider how these manifest in regular people with regular bodies. Every Kibbe ID has a certain "look" associated with them. SDs are presumed to be voluptuous, like the human incarnation of a fertility goddess, therefore people who are underweight/thin are automatically classified as something other than SD. verified FNs tend to be very thin and athletic so someone who is heavier is presumed to not be an FN. Most verified TRs are dead white women who were very very small so someone who is of average height with a more average build is perceived to be anything other than TR.

Since SN is the most common type, every woman with an average build is typed as one. This is especially true of those who have a heavier build, because weight gain, especially if its due to medication/health issues/binge eating etc can make anybody regardless of type, look "broad and bulky".

Lana has been in the limelight for over a decade at this point and her body has been under great scrutiny. She's a normal person whose weight fluctuates. Its important to understand that. Your Kibbe ID does not change with weight gain/loss. Kibbe is about image identity, that's not something that can be altered with plastic surgery or weight loss/gain; its who you are.

With that said, I believe Lana is a Flamboyant Natural.

Lana has a naturally straight-ish frame with little waist definition. At a lower weight her body is more narrow.

Her hips and her bust do not break the line of her body, which is to say they are not very prominent through the clothes she wears.

(im sorry Lana's head is cropped but I promise its Lana!!)

Compare Lana's chest to Selena's on the right. With weight gain, both of them have bigger chests but Selena (verified TR) has a chest that's naturally curved and prominent whereas Lana's chest is more broad and wide and not as pronounced.

Its evident in these pictures how her body does not look "curvy", her bust and her hips are not prominent or pronounced, she has a "straight" frame. She is a Natural type. According to celebheights.com (this is the most accurate source for celebrity heights as celebs usually exaggerate their heights) Lana is 167cms or 5'6 but seems taller, she is not rounded or blunt and has obvious vertical. This is why she is Flamboyant Natural and not Soft Natural.

These are all outfits that highlight her Romantic/Dramatic/Ethereal essence.

All these light flowy fabrics look soooo good on her and her Kibbe ID & essences all seem to harmonize well.

Naturals have the frame to carry light flowy fabrics without looking shapeless or like they're carrying a sack. Its giving ✨goddess ✨

Soft, light weight fabrics like silk, satin and kind of loose, unstructured dresses work very well for Natural types.

These aren't very flattering looks on Lana because they emphasize width and dont accomodate her vertical. When she's in outfits that suit her ID & essence, she shines so much<333

[mochicrackersss]

Blog Post - Wandering Son ᯓᡣ𐭩‧₊˚ ⊹

See, now this is proper LGBTQ+ representation compared to what was shown in Genshiken and Shin Sekai Yori (you wouldn't have even known Shin Sekai Yori discussed that topic without looking into its other episodes, but it wasn't that much better lol). Wandering Son follows Shuichi Nitori and Yoshino Takatsuki as their journies overlap while trying to figure out their dysphoria and gender identities. Shuichi yearns to be a girl and inspired by Shuchi's courage, Yoshino desires to be a boy. Simultaneously, the pair has to balance the shenanigans of middle school and their fear of social isolation due to their new identities. As Yoshino puts it, "It's just the difference between wanting to wear boy's clothes and wanting to wear girls' clothes. Even so, it's harder than you'd think." Although Shuichi and Yoshino are not specifically said to be transgender in the anime, they are either heavily implied to be or enjoy partaking in cross-dressing. And for whatever interpretation the viewer has, Wandering Son is a well-handled representation of transgender, gender-fluid, and non-binary communities. Especially in a Japanese school setting, which is somewhat unheard of in real life.

Another thing I wanted to discuss was the author of Wandering Son, Takako Shimura. Although there is no record of anything she identifies by (and it's also not any of my business) she is one of many great female mangaka who can create good LGBTQ+ media without going down a fetish-y, fujoshi route like seen in Genshiken. Not all (assumably) heterosexual cis-women are completely incapable of writing great stories with great representation, and I believe those authors, along with LGBTQ+ authors, are the ones who should be put into the limelight instead of the questionable BL content. Simple, down-to-earth stories like Wandering Son could truly be just what someone needs to begin their journey of self-discovery, and I think that's very special.

[skinks]

im so sick of hyperfeminine straight women acting like the image of hyperfeminine straight women has been so unfairly maligned in popular culture and the examples they give of the scary masculine women hogging the Elle Woods limelight are like. Katniss. Lara Croft. Black Widow. my god these manly Cool Girls with their ponytails and sometimes wearing trousers, all of them also straight and mostly created by men. like the existence of ACTUALLY unfeminine women never crosses their minds and if they do (in the cases of studs and butch lesbians especially) they’re automatically lumped in with men. im not even mad actually I’m just baffled. I do not feel division, division is the class solidarity killer

[shannendoherty-fans]

December 1991 - Shannen for the cover and inside article of Teen magazine. Unknown (uncredited) photographer.

INQUIRER zoomin' in on your faves

SHANNEN DOHERTY, 90210's Coolest Coed

Fiery, intelligent, self-assured. If any words describe Shannen Doherty, these do. Playing Brenda Walsh on the hot teen TV series "Beverly Hills, 90210," Shannen has taken a sudden star trek into the major-league limelight. These days she's everybody's favorite girl! But 'TEEN picked her as a winner as early as January 1988. At that time, Shannen was starring as Kris Witherspoon in the NBC series "Our House" and appeared on the pages of our January issue!

Born in Memphis, Tenn., on April 12, 1971, Shannen discovered a love for acting at age 9. By then, her family had moved to the Los Angeles suburb of Palos Verdes, and she had performed in the part of Sneezy! ─ in a children's theater production of Snow White. Though her parents tried to discourage their daughter's ambition, it was too burning to be denied, and within a couple of years Shannen was getting plenty of acting opportunities. Her first professional job was at 10, in fact, when she did one of the voices for the animated feature The Secret of Nimh.

But one of Shannen's most fortunate moves as an actress was the one that put her in contact with the late Michael Landon. As creator of the series "Father Murphy," he cast her first in a two-part episode of that show ─ the part of Drucilla Shannon. Shannen had a strong hunch that she'd get the part because her own name was reflected in the character's name and her lucky doll was named Drucilla! Later, when Landon created his new series "Little House: A New Beginning," he gave her the choice role of Jenny Wilder.

"Working with Michael Landon," Shannen says now, "was one of the most important stepping stones in my career. I credit him for guiding me in the right direction when I was very young." Tragically, Michael Landon died last summer, and Shannen lost a beloved mentor, but the gift of respect, encouragement and advice that he gave her over the years is something she takes with her into all of her work. A part of that work which most people vividly remember was Shannen's role as Heather Duke in the Christian Slater movie Heathers. Shannen portrayed a character who throws off a timid, retiring personality to become a bold and dominating young beauty.

Shannen herself is anything but timid. She expresses her strong personality not only in the vintage clothing she likes to wear, but in an outspoken adherence to her beliefs. More than once, Shannen has had something to say about the way her character is supposed to behave. If the script doesn't seem right to her, she'll let her director know it, and often things are changed as a result. "I don't like playing airheads," she has said. "If I'm going to play a teenager, I'm going to play someone with brains, intelligence, a thinking young person."

Which is exactly what Shannen is herself. Her strong feelings about the way teens are portrayed on TV ─ and her willingness to hold out rather than to compromise on her vision ─ hasn't hurt her career at all. Now catapulted into the public eye with the highly rated "90210," she understandably feels the responsibility and pressure of being a role model. But Shannen seems to be handling it with the kind of cool that indicates her inner strength and clarity. "Get secure with who you are," she advises other young women. "Be confident enough in yourself not to let anybody pressure you into doing things you don't want to do." Obviously this is one smart girl who's followed her own advine ─ all the way to super success!

[thelesbianpoirot]

There are a lot of people who mock Taylor Swift because they don't like her music and she's a rich apolitical white woman so she's fair game to them and that is whatever. I don't like her music myself. Her fandom base is largely female, but she does not have the huge gay male backing big a female star usually has. That intrigued me because gay men love massive female pop stars.

However, there is a vocal section of men, straight and gay, that mock Taylor Swift. I learned it was because she isn't sexy to them. A lot of people who find her sexy are lesbians. She doesn't make sexually explicit degrading music which is usually what you need to be an uber popular woman in today's music market. So the female icons gay men of today flock to are all hot women showing their tits and ass.

once a post that got popular that said people need to leave lesbian women who are apart of the slash shipping industrial complex alone, because it doesn't mean attraction to these characters, it is just a dumb male centered hobby, and It compared it to how gay men love sexy starlets. It's why homophobic Nicki Minaj will always have a more loyal young gay following than Taylor Swift. Everyone on the post kept saying all lesbian shippers are actually bisexual. They couldn't fathom why women would be doing the woman hobby, identifying and engaging with male characters if they weren't sexually attracted to them.

Yet no one questioned the sexuality of gay men obsessed with the sexual appeal of female popstars. They can't just be talented, they have to be sexy. And so many gay dudes commented some version of "of course we wouldn't like her, she's flat, sexy as cardboard, etc misogynistic insults." So many gay men are mad when Billie Eilish wears baggy clothes and doesn't have her tits out. Why are you as a man invested a sexy woman if you're not attracted to her? Can it be you identified with these women growing up and still as a man you benefit on some level from the sexual exploitation of women in media. It can be a completely neutral and (or a negative thing) devoid of sexual attraction for you. The same thing with straight men, they idolize big strong masculine men in media or athletes, to the point of hero worship, collecting merch excessively, demanding that every male character be a muscular beast in the live action adaptations, posters on their walls, obsessive curating their online life about them. Get mad when even hot female characters take the limelight away from their male favorites. Are all these men bi or gay? You wouldn't think that.

So how about we apply this to lesbians? While tumblr is filled with openly faux lesbians (bi and straight up straight women dating men) there is a concerted effort to always question a woman's word, and believe everything a man says. Do we think lesbians raised in male dominated society are born inoculated against male worship/centeredness, even if it's not sexual. Straight men aren't. Do you believe lesbians are inherently born with a feminist mindset, and there aren't male worshiping lesbians out there. That there are certain hobbies that make a woman a lesbian, and some that disqualify her? There are some lesbians getting surgery to have a faux dick attached to her person, without ever wanting to ever be sexual with a real deal dick. it's clear that we are just as vulnerable to male hero worship as anyone born in this patriarchal society, and sometimes it manifests in the most womanly of ways, slash shipping.

Slayerlez was right. I miss her.

[leonawriter]

I think that for every thing that I have a problem with Gosho for, there's something else that balances it out, somehow.

Like, his sexism comes from a time when a lot of those views were very normalised. In fact, a lot of it's still normal over there - all those times you see a female character go "I pretended to be a boy just to get respect for my ability and not told to focus on finding a boyfriend and getting myself married"? That comes up so much in so many anime/manga/games/etc because the sexism is that bad.

Gosho is so bad about the sexism. About having Sonoko's boyfriend victim blaming her for wearing "provocative" clothing, having the detectives constantly go "this can't be done with a woman's strength," having women going "I am a woman, and a police officer" (as in, specifically pointing out their gender)...

To my knowledge, up until Masumi Sera, the only female main characters were the love interests, and none of them have been detectives or able to take the stage in investigations. Ran gets too emotional, Kazuha seems to have no interest, Aoko most likely will become a police officer like her father, but hasn't shown any interest in detective work (or supporting either, say, Hakuba or Kaito in a major way) and Akako is... a witch.

Note, though, that I'm only counting the main characters, who are in the same age range.

The fandom has a habit of calling the quartet of Shinichi, Kaito, Hakuba, and Hattori "the Gosho boys" for a reason - and that's a very male set, while their childhood friends/love interests/what have you aren't in the limelight as much, because as said before, they aren't detectives.

Even outside of those eight, from just memory, I know that Haibara is a scientist, but although she's smarter than the kids one of the impressions she leaves is often "I trust that [Kudo] will solve this/save us." Which is fair and works with her character, but supports the sense that the girls have to rely on the boys. And of the FBI/CIA groups, the most marketed and memorable heroes are... Akai Shuuichi and Amuro Tohru. Not Jodie Starling.

And yet at the same time, Gosho does do something that I do very much appreciate - he's remarkably progressive in terms of not falling prey to only showing pale-skinned Japanese characters.

In fact, many of Gosho's characters, from protagonists like Hattori Heiji to Sonoko's misogynistic boyfriend Makoto Kyougoku, to various random civilians, victims, and criminals have different nationalities and skin colours.

Many witnesses and criminals aren't Japanese at all, may not speak Japanese, and tend to be treated with respect!

He also goes as far as to make a pointed note of how Japanese kids with foreign features can end up being bullied for their differences, as shown in a case I haven't got to yet in my re-read, where Agasa finds someone he knew from long ago, who was teased for having light brown hair. I think I even learned a lot about those sorts of things by reading the series back when!

But... yeah. These things even out. And it's important to bear in mind that for all I'm saying these things about his writing, I'm also going through a re-read with material written in 1999 still, and I do have to wonder how much I'll notice him having realised the fault in his way of thinking, changing how he writes characters, re-writing certain things to make them less offensive to modern sensibilities in the same way he replaces gadgets with modern counterparts.