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#healthy rhythms of life
biblebloodhound · 1 year
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Jesus: Introvert or Extrovert? (Luke 5:12-16)
Jesus, as the perfect human, displays the best of both extroversion and introversion. 
A 4th century mural of Jesus from the Catacomb of Commodilla, Rome, Italy While Jesus was in one of the towns, a man came along who was covered with leprosy. When he saw Jesus, he fell with his face to the ground and begged him, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.” Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” And immediately the leprosy left…
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eatclean-bewhole · 11 days
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phydex · 2 years
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zelzelez · 3 months
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Sleep cycle seems fucked, but actually only if you count for free days. Every morning I wake up at 6 and don't know what the fuck to do with myself. I'm sick! And it's Sunday anyway! Now I'm just stuck here with my brain all active again, thinking thinking thinking. I'm too tired to do anything against it, and honestly, I still lack coping mechanisms for overthinking. Maybe if I wasn't such a lost noodle I could stitch/mend torn clothes? Maybe I could write for my bachelor's thesis? Maybe I could puzzle, or paint, read poems?
I'm too fucked by now tho. I feel lonely inside so I go online. I am too tired and too lazy and too hopeless, so everything seems pointless anyway, so scrolling is the easiest. My brain is on an endless scrolling-trip, with or without the phone, so why not take the phone.
God damn if the phone addiction hasn't become the worst of all ... But this stupid life so easily sets you up for it, too.
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angelballance · 1 year
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Living Life Fit with Angel: WARRIOR in Louisiana, Gingerbread Energy Balls, Healthy Happy Travel for Holidays!
Living Life Fit with Angel: WARRIOR in Louisiana, Gingerbread Energy Balls, Healthy Happy Travel for Holidays!
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f1verse · 23 days
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Pairing: Lando Norris x f! pregnant wife reader
PART 2
MASTERLIST
Warnings: None I think
Credits to pinterest for the pictures!
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"So?" Lando's voice crackles through the phone, his third day away in the UK at the McLaren factory, preparing for the middle of the 2023 season.
"I'm not done yet," Y/N replies, still peeing in the cup. "I don't know if it will be positive… The doctor said it will take a year to clean my system from the contraceptive pills." She speaks with insecurity, fearing the potential loss of something she's not even sure she has yet.
"It will be okay, baby. If it's negative, we'll just keep trying. It's the most fun part of it," Lando reassures his wife, though his nerves are nearly overwhelming. He calms a bit hearing Y/N giggle at his comment.
"Okay, so I'm just putting the test in my pee… 1… 2… 3… 4… 5…" Y/N counts, conducting the pregnancy test in the comfort of their shared home.
"So, now we wait for 10 minutes?" Lando asks, sitting on the sofa before jumping up nervously.
"Yep. Do you want me to tell you my next idea for LN4?" Y/N asks Lando, turning away from the pregnancy test.
"Of course," Lando says, and Y/N starts talking about incredible ideas for LN4 and Quadrant. Though Lando cares about what his wife has to say, only one thing occupies his mind at the moment. He interrupts her. "10 minutes!" he announces, and she hurries to check the pregnancy test.
"Okay…"
"So? Positive or negative?" Lando tries to calm himself with deep breaths.
"I don't know. I have my eyes closed," she confesses, and Lando smiles a little. How he wishes he could be there with her taking the damn test.
"Come on, baby. I don't know if my heart will tolerate another minute. I feel like this test took at least 10 years off my life," Lando says, rubbing his chest anxiously.
Y/N finally gathers the courage to look at the results. She starts crying loudly, and Lando's heart races like he's running a marathon.
"Po… Positive," Y/N says with difficulty, sobbing and crying as she still looks at the positive test.
"Oh my God… Oh my God… Screw this, I'm going home to my babymama," Lando says, tears streaming down his face as he starts packing his things. "I love you so damn much, baby. We're going to be so happy together. Our little family..."
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"Show me, baby, c'mon," Lando asks, lying in bed and gazing at Y/N. Well, not entirely at her, but he's fixated on Y/N's belly.
"Lan, I don't have the bump yet. It feels like I just ate the biggest burger of my life or like I'm bloated," Y/N says before starting to lift up her hoodie.
Lando grabs his phone and eagerly snaps a picture of her. "It shows! Look," he exclaims, showing Y/N the picture. She shakes her head, not quite seeing if there's a bump or not.
"I'm sending this to my mom," Lando declares.
"Are you sure?" Y/N asks, remembering that Lando had mentioned they would fly to the UK to tell his family yesterday.
"Yes, baby. I can't hold it in anymore," Lando says, giving his wife a sweet kiss. She's the love of his life, and she's making his latest dream come true: starting a family together.
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"All I want is for you to be healthy," Lando whispers, stroking Y/n's bump affectionately. She smiles at him and plays with his curls.
Lando talks to the baby every time he can, even if he is away. Y/n has to put Lando on speaker so he can talk with the baby. Currently, both of them are sitting in the doctor's office, their hearts pounding with anticipation. They've been waiting for this moment to finally come and learn the gender of their baby.
"Mr. and Mrs. Norris, welcome. Are you ready to find out the gender of your baby?" The doctor asks and indicates where Y/n has to lay.
"I couldn't sleep last night," Lando confesses, and the doctor laughs, delighted to hear how excited the father is to discover the gender of the baby. The doctor smiles warmly as she begins the ultrasound, carefully moving the wand over Y/n's belly. The room fills with the sound of the baby's heartbeat, a steady rhythm that makes Lando and Y/n gasp. And then, finally, the moment they've been waiting for arrives. The doctor points to the screen.
"Congratulations… you're having a healthy baby girl!" the doctor informs, and Lando kisses Y/n's head as she starts crying upon seeing the ultrasound.
"A girl," he whispers, his voice filled with amazement. "Our daughter, baby."
Tears of happiness stream down Y/n's cheeks as she leans into her husband's embrace, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love wash over her.
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"Hey, baby. Did you not sleep well?" Lando's tone expresses concern for the mother of his child.
"Not much. Then around 3 a.m, I tried playing your voice notes and she finally calmed down," Y/n replies, gently stroking her belly as she talks to Lando.
"She misses her daddy. I want to talk to her, please," Lando requests, and Y/n immediately smiles wide. Since Lando has to be away for his job, he often asks Y/n to talk to their child. She puts the phone on speaker and waits until Lando starts.
"Hi, my beautiful girl. Do you miss your daddy? Daddy will be with you and your beautiful mama soon. But, you should be a good girl for your mommy. You should let her sleep and not cause any trouble." Y/n smiles, though her heart aches a little at having Lando so far away from them. Fortunately, the season is ending soon. "I love you, Isabella. Be a good girl for daddy, okay?"
"God, this kid loves you too much. She's kicking like crazy," she says to Lando while gently stroking her big belly.
"What can I say? My charm is irresistible to my two beauties," y/n giggles, and Lando smiles.
"Remember that you have your appointment with the nutritionist at 11:30, baby. Would you record it? Pretty please. I promise you the biggest chocolate that I can find, and we won't tell anybody," he pleads. It's difficult for him to be away while his pregnant wife deals with doctor appointments and everything else. Luckily, Lando has only missed two ultrasounds, which he of course made his mother film from the moment they entered the room until they left. Lando doesn't want to miss any part of this new chapter of his life.
"And foot massages," y/n says, knowing that Lando will agree to anything.
"Deal. I have to go, baby. We'll be together real soon. I can't wait to be with you." With a soft sigh, Y/n nods understandingly, feeling a mixture of longing and reassurance in Lando's words. She knows that despite the distance, they're in this together, eagerly awaiting the day they'll be reunited.
"Take care of yourself, Lan. I'll make sure to record the appointment," Y/n assures him, her voice filled with warmth and affection.
"I love you, Lando," she adds softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"I love you too, baby. More than you'll ever know," Lando replies, his voice filled with tenderness.
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I'm considering a second part, focusing on the birth of Baby Isabella and her first years of life. What do you think?🧡
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sovenusian · 11 days
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Matured Energy of Each Sun Sign
(does not to relate to what age you are.)
A matured Aries is a master communicator and story teller, they can easily pull and hold the attention of the crowd on them, only this time it is to shine light on something beyond them, and it's usually the wisdom they have gathered on their spiritual journey of having the self as the center of their wants and needs.
A matured Taurus is the tamed bull. They become much more calm and understanding of ways of life and mindsets differing from their own, and don't feel the need to make known, how thorough their stances on their beliefs are. They loosen up a bit, like a Cane Corso allowing a rambunctious chihuahua to feign dominance.
A matured Gemini uses the seemingly fractured personality to create genius works and can masterfully connect with any age group or walk of life. They respect they are the embodiment of "I have an idea" but on drugs (lol) and live in that truth. They don't provide tolerance for what they do not like around them.
A matured Cancer stopped being petty and stops wading in the murky waters of emotional manipulation, and starts wielding these energies as gift, for others. You may not find a more generous, selfless, nurturing being. They have the strength to grow other people and bring what's dead back to life.
A matured Leo finally takes more pride in the impact of it's works, more than the ability to do them or be recognized for being the one to do them. They enjoy showing the character traits that truly make them beautiful. The humility they acquire despite having achieved a great deal of refinement, is what becomes what makes them shine at their brightest.
A matured Virgo learned to put themselves, their hearts truly first. Their dutiful and ambitious drives have taught them their accompanying lessons, which are to allow yourself to relax, you are enough, you really are so damn dope, and comparing your output to the logistics was a stressful way to live and that is, the past. It's a death to criticism and a birth to healthy analyzation.
A matured Libra has learned how to be in love with love, in a healthy way. In love with Real Love; with the raw energy and authenticity of it's energy, that way when humans and opportunities come around that claim to be Love, they can be distinguishing and keep their own heart set on what they have learned to be it's truth. They have mastered detachment.
A matured Scorpio has adjusted their perspective, placing the abilities of being extremely passionate and emotionally intense, only in situations that don't create more chaos. Their lifelong journey for true power has moved them into a space where they are more settled and accomplished. They learn the rhythm of life and can finally become selfless, and this is where their energy is truly it's most powerful.
A matured Sagittarius is the ember stage of fire; warm, spreading and long lasting. The knowledge and philosophies acquired over the years are now steeped, grounded in substance and embedded in a person that can finally sit down long enough, and have the patience, to share it's inspirations. Their habit to be generous and spreading have switched out it's impulsive nature for selectivity and self- preservation.
A matured Capricorn drops the shrewdness, and can be an exemplified patriot of what they stood for when they initially started their ambitious climb of hard earned success. They realize just because they are the goats, does not mean anybody and everything are the rocks and steps to ascend upon, and they warm their heart up enough to trust others with their vulnerabilities. They retire their need to be serious for the upholding of the many responsibilities all Capricorns are dealt, and they let that beautiful ability to entertain and bring joy be what they now lead and corale others with.
A matured Aquarius honors the unbeaten path they chose and created by tooth and nail, by sharing with others the lessons learned from it. Their ability to be friendly and connect with anyone, becomes more filled out, & it becomes harder for them to be perceived as disingenuous, because they can now choose the role they'll play in the life of every individual they meet, and share the gems needed like the sages they were born to be. They feel the freedom to become even more obscure.
A matured Pisces is a vessel of universal love. They spend their lives being a collage of all the human personality could offer, from kind to cruel, yielding to stubborn, and they take each lesson from their colorful experiences, and only extract the most optimistic, high frequency wisdom from them. They keep their mystery while their ability to impart love to others unfolds endlessly.
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DPXDC ~ Dead on main ~ Signs of Death
~~~Eye of Death~~~
Jason liked to think that Danny has cat's eyes. And by that Jay doesn't mean mixture of a predatory look and a cute purr of his boyfriend's core that comes with non-human being thing. Just cats have slit-shaped eyes. Danny have them too. And Todd is so into it.
Jason:
I don’t understand why he takes his eyes off me when I call him Kitty or try to catch his eye. He’s a dog lover but I didn’t think he hated cats. They’re cheeky and charming, just like him. Danny’s not embarrassed by his fangs or his white hair. So..why?
Later Sam explains to Jason that after the portal incident Danny did not immediately learn to live a half-life and for the first few days dropped dead several times.  And because she tested it using Ripault sign, the shape of his pupils ended up looking like cat's one in his phantom form.
P.S.Ripault sign - a sign of death consisting of a permanent change in the shape of the pupil produced by unilateral pressure on the eyeball.  So, a pupil  of a dead person acquires an oval shape, and in a healthy living person such a reaction is not observed. This is associated with the inevitable post-mortem drop in blood pressure and the lack of activity of the central nervous system, which manifests itself in the absence of ocular muscle tone.
Tacker adds that Danny also died with his eyes open, so in his Phantom form he barely blinks. It seems pretty creepy too everyone, well, except Jason. Thanks to Tim he used to have blank stare near him.
~~~~~~ the Lazarus heart ~~~~~~~
Team Phantom also tells him that when Danny's too focused on phantom's task (save, protect, escape) his systems just stop keeping Fenton's body alive.
No blinking and fixed pupils are the first signs Jason has learned to watch for. After that, breathing stops. Only a few times he recorded a complete cardiac arrest. After the battle with Pariah Dark, Danny passed out on the couch and lay without a heartbeat, so the blood clotted exactly where it had collected under gravity. Those cadaveric spots appeared in several places really frightened Jason. 
So during the fight his boyfriend's ghost side stops monitoring functions of his human body at all. And it doesn't help that cardiostimulation for Phantom is pointless. He died from exposure to electricity, so the generation of a signal to work the cells is now under full control of the core.
Jason fights with Danny for a long time, convincing him that he should take better care of his health. As a compromise, they decide to put several sensors on them to monitor some parameters around the clock. Jason curses that it was his idea when Batman enters their apartment at night, smashing the window. It turns out that death is still following Jason. His heart was the one that played the funeral march on the cardiogram and froze, and he didn’t even notice it.
The old man managed to break several of his ribs while doing CPR but Jason only came to life when Danny pulled the hyperventilating bat away from his body and let ectoplasm take its course.
P.S. Lazarus syndrome, also known as autoresuscitation after failed cardiopulmonary resuscitation, is the spontaneous return of a normal cardiac rhythm after failed attempts at resuscitation. 
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stxrvel · 7 months
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hate is a strong word
summary: you hated Bucky and you were convinced that he hated you back. until one time he was talking to you and it started to sound... lovely? what was happening?
pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader
words: 6k
warnings: some bad words, a lot of arguments, a HUGE flashback, a little bit of angst i think? bucky and reader insult each other, reader doesn't like to listen, bucky is easily angered, bucky likes to destroy things when he gets angry but regrets it easily, this is not exactly a healthy relationship(? descriptions of weapons, missiles and buildings being bombed, reader is also very stubborn and likes to put her life at risk… or so.
note: hi guys!! so i came back and i am kinda proud of this one. i think i haven't felt that way in a long time. i gave myself the time to write when i felt like it and it was wonderful, so this came out. also i put the poll for a whole week and i can't change it now >:(, but i think this onsehot fits the angst with a happy ending (im not sure if this fits the angst tho, you gotta tell me) but im gonna try to do something else that fits the vibe, and i'll probably do some other poll to write about someone else. (also i think i should warn you guys that i dont think im that good writing action scenes or tension scenes, so if that's bad i hope you forgive me): anyway, hope you guys like this one!! i love reading your comments so if you want and can, please leave some <33 love you all and see you next time!
part 2
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Bucky was really pissing you off too much at that moment. Or maybe you were feeling a little uncomfortable.
He hadn't spoken a single word to you since you had arrived at that tiny house, only shrugged silently and then exploded. You had seen Bucky explode several times before and you admitted that watching him was somewhat entertaining; seeing the faces of frightened people, trying to flee away from his angry face and destructive hands, but physically forced to stand by and listen to his scolding. You used to have fun with that. However, at the time, when you were the extreme recipient of that anger, it wasn't so much fun.
You had already heard a couple of broken glass, shattered wood and metal containers fall to the ground. Maybe five minutes or so had passed and he was barely pausing to look at his artwork. It wasn't too much that he had taken and thrown while you had stayed in the room, but it had all sounded very loud, so you had no choice but to go out and see what he was doing.
You were leaning against the threshold of the hallway to the bedrooms, right across from the living room and kitchen. Bucky looked like he had just finished getting all his anger out when he finally stood silently. He probably thought you were asleep while he was doing all that, as if that sound couldn't wake you up. Was he really that angry about what you had done? You mean, yes, it was very risky, but there you were alive, weren't you?
You felt the best thing you could do was to stay quiet and wait for him to say or do something, because you could risk that angry outburst really coming down in your face. For that moment he had only taken it out on the house, which had nothing to do with your problems, and you didn't want the arguments to start filling the silence that followed his stillness.
But, well, you didn't always do the right thing. That's why you were in that situation in the first place.
“Are you done yet?” you signed your sentence.
Bucky had a tense posture, squared shoulders moving in rhythm with his accelerated breathing. His back was to you, staring at the kitchen counter that had been left completely empty. You knew by the way he was clasping his hands that he was trying to maintain his composure.
“Are you serious?” his voice came out hoarse, a sign of his growing anger.
Maybe you should have stopped there, or when he continued to not turn to look at you, but you just couldn't keep your mouth shut.
“What's your problem, Barnes? Yes, I took a chance, but it's not that big of a deal. It's not for this,” you pointed to the mess around you, even though he wasn't looking at you.
“It's not a big deal, you say?” Bucky moved and you felt yourself watching his angry figure move in slow motion. “What's your problem?”
His beady eyes met yours. You felt a little intimidated by the ripples of annoyance coming off his body, filling the entire room with an unbearable, suffocating tension. His scowl and that strangely calm tone of voice made your hair stand on end.
None of the pieces of glass or splintered wood on the floor looked as dangerous as that expression on Bucky's face. He looked very angry, yes, but there was also something in his eyes when he looked at you. Something like concern… but that was impossible.
“Really, Y/N, what's your problem? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Now, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“I was the mission leader!” his voice rose, his body moving forward as he pointed his index finger at himself. “And you were supposed to follow my orders.”
“I did, Barnes, I-”
“No,” he exclaimed, again moving closer. “You didn't do anything I asked you to do! Why can't you just…? Argh.”
You moved back a little as he planted his hands on the dining room table. You felt a little pressure in your chest at the sight of him like this, as if defeated and hopeless. Disappointed. But that was a common thing. That's why you used to have individual missions, and that's why you didn't really like working in a team. You mean, it wasn't wrong to do it, but everything always ended up in arguments because nobody liked the way you worked, so it was better to do it alone, right?
Seeing Bucky like that reminded you of how many times you had seen that look on the faces of Steve, Natasha, Tony, Clint, even Thor… It was never welcome nor were you comfortable with what was coming next, but it was the way you worked, how could you change out of nowhere something you had done your whole life?
Maybe you just had to apologize, sometimes that worked. Because you also knew that, knowing how bossy and caring Bucky was, you should have at least held back a little during the mission. Bucky's patience couldn't stand that sort of thing.
“Listen, I'm sorry, okay? I was a little careless, but that's how-”
“A little careless?” he interrupted you, his voice and face incredulous. "You almost got yourself killed."
“We're in this job under that risk, Barnes, that's not news.”
The man in the middle of the mess ran his hands over his face, elated, frustrated and surely overwhelmed. He let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a growl before turning back to look at you.
“Why can't you just listen?”
His accusing gaze enlarged a hole in your chest that you constantly tried to ignore, planting bitter feelings of sadness that you were usually very good at avoiding. But at that moment, for some reason, you couldn't stop your face from twitching at the strong, hurt tone of the man who looked at you as if he couldn't believe who you are and what you do. It seemed like Bucky was always in denial and today he realized that what everyone always told him was true.
That look, that dull gleam in his eye, that expression of understanding… All of that you were used to seeing, but coming from him it felt different. As if you hadn't really meant to cause those feelings, as if you wanted to turn back time to do things differently. The surprisingly incredulous and remorseful look was digging deep into your head, searing itself with hot iron to make sure to haunt you in the future.
At that moment you didn't care if Bucky realized how much his words affected you. Maybe you deserved to feel that way. Maybe he should have known that it affected you too much, that would surely do more than an apology.
“If only you had listened to me, we would have left sooner and without any trouble,” Bucky spoke again after what felt like hours of silence.
You couldn't take him back. It was true.
“Why did you…? Argh. Whatever. I'm going to report to Fury.”
His figure passed you like a blur. You barely felt his presence very superficially before all was silent again.
Your heart ached again. For some reason, it wouldn't stop hurting that it was still beating.
The day before.
“WHAT?” you exclaimed in disbelief and the director's tired look reappeared.
“It's already scheduled, Y/N, I can't undo it. So just go, try to cooperate together and come back in one piece,” Fury leaned back against the back of the chair, putting his feet up on the desk.
You looked at his shoes as if they were to blame for everything.
“It's funnier to think Bucky reacted the same way,” Tony spoke up, sitting in the chair next to yours, a mocking expression on his face.
“Shut up,” you smacked his arm before turning back to the director. “Sir, you know Barnes and I don't get along and knowing that, what makes you think we'll hit it off on a mission?”
Fury shrugged. “A hunch.”
“A hunch…?” you repeated in a low tone, twice as incredulous that the big SHIELD director had just said that.
“That's it, agent, you're dismissed.”
You left his office on your own, not because you had been dispatched. The walk to the housing complex took you longer than ever at that point.
You'd only had one mission with Bucky Barnes once a couple of years ago and it had been a disaster. Your group missions usually ended with a close call, but that time with Bucky it was like going to hell and back.
You two had never gotten along. Regardless of Fury's hundreds of attempts to get along, you had never managed to vibrate on the same frequency. It seemed more like you repelled each other every time you were together, and it was totally justified because Bucky was too bossy and wouldn't let you breathe for a single second. Every second of the mission had to be ruled by him because otherwise he was going to explode into a sea of rage and, God, no one wanted to piss Bucky off in that Complex. However, you were always the first to tell him that his tactics weren't working or that he was too slow and well, naturally, you ended up arguing.
You met Natasha and Steve halfway to the rooms and from the way they both looked at each other before the redhead approached you knew you must surely have a scrunched up face.
“Did something happen?” Natasha asked as soon as she reached your side and started walking at the same pace as you, slightly more hurried than usual.
“Fury assigned me a mission with Barnes,” you spat out the good news, impossibly frowning harder at the mention of that name.
“Oh,” Natasha nodded. “Well, you could try to work things out-”
“What things, Natasha?” you paused, turning to look at her as everything around you turned red. “There's nothing to fix here, because Barnes is a stubborn, obstinate, childish, bossy, stupid man who is incapable of speaking like a civilized adult and only knows how to shout orders everywhere as if he's the bossy one in the Complex. I can't stand him!”
“Wow.”
You heard his voice.
“I hope you know the feeling is reciprocated.”
You turned to see him, his body was leaning against the island at the entrance to the kitchen, in a strategic spot as if you could never realize he was there because your path was to the other side. Natasha watched between the two of you like a tennis match, fearful as if at any moment the screaming would start and she would have to run away.
You didn't know what to do. You were super angry, yes, and you felt your blood boiling inside your veins, too. And you'd said all that stuff to Bucky's face before, and God knows how many times before you'd argued just by seeing each other in the halls of the Complex. Despite that, you felt trapped. The anger was still there, yes, but his gaze pierced through you like a sword.
“Believe me, I don't want to go on this mission with a stubborn, obstinate, headstrong, ignorant, individualist like you either, who cares not for the safety of the team but for her own victory, no matter how she achieves it.”
With his eyes sharp, his heavy footsteps approached you, echoing in your head loudly like the second hand of a clock. He had stopped at a safe distance as he spoke and at one point Natasha had grabbed your arm when it seemed you had tried to approach him as well.
“You're a hypocrite,” you spat at him.
“Ha! Me?”
“You always play the saintly dove, but you know you're not much different from me.”
“I'm nothing like you,” Bucky wrinkled his face, as if the very thought caused him to shiver with disgust.
“You're an individualist, too, imposing your plans on others.”
“You never have a plan! What do you expect me to do, let you go and die?”
“I do have plans! But you don't like them because they are more effective than yours.”
“They're more effective at the cost of risking more of our lives.”
“That's what our job is all about!”
“Our job is about protecting! How are you going to accomplish a mission if you're dead?”
“Well, I've done pretty well so far, in case you haven't noticed.”
“If I had a nickel for every time you've gone airhead straight into danger and ended up nowhere near dead, I'd have as much money as Stark.”
“And if I had a nickel for every time your stupid, slow plans have caused you to lose sight of the target and made you come back empty-handed, I'd be twice as rich as Stark.”
“At least my kill rate is minus five.”
“And my hit rate is one hundred by the way.”
“Are you even listening to what you're saying?”
“That I always finish missions on the first try, unlike you?”
“That you're treating your life like it's something insignificant.”
“Ah, now you care about my life?”
Natasha tightened her hand around your forearm again preventing you from again getting too close to the man who was getting on your nerves. Before he could respond, you spoke again:
“Look, Barnes, to make it absolutely clear to you for the rest of your long life: I love my life and I love my job. I love my life because it allows me to have this job and I love my job because it allows me to have this life. If you have a problem with how I choose to do the job, that's just that, your problem. But don't think you're coming here to give me a psychology lesson to make me believe that I don't value my life just because now you've run out of arguments. It's because I value my life, Barnes, that I always come out of every mission unscathed. I don't put myself at risk because I'm oblivious. I always have everything figured out and that's why everything always works out for me.”
Bucky snorted, his body moving away from yours, but despite that expression on his face he didn't respond again. He gave you a sidelong glance before walking back into the kitchen.
Your shoulders felt a little lighter. For a moment you thought he was going to continue arguing.
Natasha next to you sighed, finally letting go of your forearm.
“Why did you hold me so tight?” you frowned at her, rubbing the part of your skin that was slightly red. “Did you really think I was going to fight a super soldier?”
Natasha shrugged under your gaze.
“We've known you to do crazy things.”
“I wouldn't have stood a chance of beating him even if he gave me the upper hand.”
Five hours earlier.
You hadn't seen Bucky for the rest of the day after that discussion, until the next day when you had to get on the Quinjet and didn't even glance at each other.
Steve was in charge of handling the airplane and, apparently, he was also in charge of briefing you on how you were going to proceed on the mission, because Bucky was too busy drilling holes with his gaze somewhere else on the Quinjet away from the two of you.
Neither spoke when you descended nor when you approached the base apparently in a state of abandonment.
Bucky's mission were flat and simple, but as usual he had no backup plan, because all his backup plans were the same: run away. Bucky had a chick's sense of survival, that's why when things went bad was the time when he would scream at you the loudest.
Just like it happened on that mission.
“This place is deadly quiet,” you spoke for the first time, barely earning a sidelong glance from the man next to you.
You had already finished thermo-sensor checking every floor of the building and it was indeed desolate. Still, you felt a strange uncomfortable chill run down your back.
“Well, that's what deserted means,” Bucky commented, his sarcasm sharp.
You rolled your eyes at him, even if he couldn't see you, and kept walking with your gun raised as you approached the checkpoint.
“I mean I can't even hear birds or crickets, doesn't that strike you as odd?”
“Well, we're on the fourth floor, wouldn't it make it stranger if you could hear them at this altitude?”
“Well, you can hear at this height. Tell me, do you hear anything down below?”
Bucky paused. They were a few steps away from reaching the room. His deadly stare caused you nothing but boredom and you would have ignored him completely except that he let out a sigh, dejected. You detailed him minutely as he seemed to focus his hearing on external sounds.
“There's nothing,” he spoke after a few seconds, his brow slightly furrowed.
“You see?”
“But that doesn't mean anything. We'd better finish this quickly.”
Ignoring the grimace on your face, Bucky moved to step into the room whose door was wide open. You stared offended at his back and felt the urge to smack his big head with the butt of your gun.
“Here it is,” you heard him exclaim from inside.
Sighing you made your way to where he stood. A large display of old computers anchored to the wall.
“You should do it yourself,” you looked at Bucky with a smirk. “I don't handle equipment this old.”
Bucky only snorted in response and moved with his gun to another side of the room, leaving you in complete silence to do your job.
You moved quietly and sat down in front of the machines. You plugged them into the power source you brought in your suitcase and in a few minutes they began to work.
The mission was simple. There was one of the old HYDRA bases that contained specific information that Fury needed to find. Up to that point, they had searched about seven abandoned bases without any success. So there you were with Bucky, at the eighth base they had identified, digging through old commands and in another language trying to find the information they needed.
Ever since they left the Complex that morning you were convinced you would find nothing. They had already raided several bases and there were still a few more to go. The probability that you would find that information at that time was…
Bingo.
“Got it,” you exclaimed to Bucky.
You heard his hurried footsteps and then felt the warmth of his body next to you.
“Is that it?”
“Just a folder.”
“And why does it load so slowly?”
“It's an old computer, Bucky, it works at its own pace.”
Bucky gave you a sidelong glance. “Wish you understood me like you understand that thing.”
“Aish,” you pouted by way of mockery. “Jealous, Barnes?”
The aforementioned just snorted.
The load was running at forty percent and truth be told, yes, it was too slow. But you could do nothing but wait, there was no way to speed it up.
Bucky paced back and forth behind you and you just watched the green lines move as if that helped at all. But, well, what else could you do?
At one point, as the charge was about to reach eighty percent, you heard interference on your communicators.
“Argh,” you shook your head and raised your hand to move the device a little away until the sound died down. “Steve?”
There was no response.
You turned to look at Bucky, who had the same quizzical expression.
The interference returned and then you heard Steve's voice distorted.
“… of… moment!”
“What the fuck is he saying?”
Bucky remained silent, tapping the device on his ear as if that would fix it.
But you saw it before you heard Steve's voice again.
A clump of people through the window. A freshly loaded cannon.
“Barnes…”
And at that moment, Steve's voice filled them with clarity.
“It's an ambush! Get out of there now!”
The quickness of the impact didn't let you process what was happening. Less than a second after hearing Steve the ground shook beneath your feet. The cracks in the floor started small and then swallowed you apart.
You held onto a beam, barely lucid enough. You propelled yourself upward, swinging your forearms over the patch of ground that was still intact. You heard Bucky's grunts in the distance. He was surely all right.
You heard him call out to you too, but as soon as you could sit down on the ground, the first thing you did was to reach for the pendrive.
Your heart was pounding, so hard it might as well have flown out on its own. Your breathing accelerated, with adrenaline rushing through your body was the only thing you could feel. At that moment you felt capable of anything.
You stood up quickly to look out the window again. The people were gone and the cannon had been destroyed.
It was at that moment that you realized that Steve was still talking on the communicator.
“I'm fine,” you replied, after being able to decipher his words amidst the constant buzzing from the sound of the explosion and the dizziness you felt at the sight of the hole next to you.
“Okay, you're both fine,” the Captain spoke again.
“Y/N, you can get down from there and get to the floor below. I'll catch you.”
At the sound of Bucky's voice, you moved away from the window.
Bucky had landed on the floor below, and yes, from where you were you could jump up and you'd probably have nothing but a cramp.
“How's it going up there?”
“Well, the shields are holding up okay, but I've got poor vision. I think they're regrouping somewhere else.”
You looked around.
Most of the floor had swallowed up the computers, but the main one was still loading the document. You could see the green from where you were. It was at ninety-seven percent.
But it was dangerous to get too close. The pendrive was dangling from the main computer which was about to succumb to the cracked floor.
There was some concrete left in front of the computers that you could walk across, so, without a second thought, you mapped out a mental guidance plan and moved forward.
“Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?”
“I'm getting the pendrive.”
“What? Are you insane? That side of the floor isn't going to support your weight!”
“Yes it will. I know how to do it.”
You started walking all over the remaining edge of the floor in front of what was left of the computers. Small pieces would break off as you passed causing Bucky to hiss.
“Y/N, you'd better stop and get down right now. There's still a risk of them firing again.”
“I'm gonna get it, Barnes.”
“Y/N! Get down, now!”
Ignoring his command, you held onto the remaining wall in front of you as you continued on your way, almost reaching where the pendrive was, about to fall into the abyss.
Ninety-eight percent.
“Y/N!”
“Fucking hell, Barnes, will you shut the fuck up? Your yelling is breaking my concentration.”
“You want me to just stay quiet while you walk to your certain death?”
“I'm not going to dieee- ahh-”
Your left foot, the one in front, wobbled as a piece of the floor came loose. You clung tightly to the wall as best you could, breathing deeply to calm your racing heart. Panicking at that moment wasn't going to do any good.
“God, I can't believe this,” you heard Bucky's voice, muttering to himself. “Now are you really going to get off?”
His voice sounded reprimanding, but agitated. In the midst of that mess, you wondered for a moment if he was really worried.
“I'm almost there.”
You heard him grunt in the distance.
You kept moving your feet in the direction of the main computer, this time more cautiously and more slowly. The floor all along that edge was too cracked, on the verge of falling. You were surprised it had lasted this long.
At that point, Bucky started talking to Steve, but you kept your full concentration on not falling. Maybe Bucky was right and you really didn't have any regard for your life, but…. No, no. You were very sure of what you were doing. You couldn't give up without trying everything. Maybe for Bucky it was too risky, but that was your life. And you knew you could do it.
Ninety-nine.
You had reached the critical point on the ground.
The voices of the two men were becoming too overwhelming, so you quickly took off your communicator and stuffed it in one of your tactical pants pockets.
“What the fuck did you just do?” Bucky exclaimed, a considerable distance away. He wasn't as far away as you thought.
“Your voices are distracting me!”
Good. You were close. Maybe from there you could reach it… if you stretched a little… a little more… a little- Whoop. Nope. You weren't that close. Another chunk of floor fell and with it everything around you shifted. The concrete was so unstable that it tilted further into the abyss after your not at all incredible maneuver.
You had to get even closer.
You had to use plan c.
But for that, the pendrive had to be one hundred percent charged and you weren't sure you could wait for that. Or well, you weren't sure the floor would hold. You had to be quick.
You heard Bucky behind you, but his words were carried away by the wind. You couldn't focus on him because that would be too distracting.
So, arriving at point x, you executed your plan as quickly as possible.
You ran. Even if the world was falling down, you ran. In the direction of the pendrive. The green number didn't change. You took a deep breath. You felt the sparks fly around you. The sound of the ground cracking was going to haunt you in several dreams.
You picked up the pendrive. You would have a few extra seconds as you leaned over and climbed over the computers to gain momentum.
The bing of the computer filled you with a rush of adrenaline.
One hundred percent.
You jumped. You held your breath for a second. Nerves built up in your throat. You felt like you were going to lose consciousness for a minute. Maybe you heard Bucky in the background, you weren't sure, but knowing him he was probably still scolding you.
In the midst of a deep exhalation…
Your feet hit the ground. You rolled. You moved quickly as you turned to see that the ground was still falling. You got up and ran.
You ran until you collided with a solid body. Bucky was shaking your shoulders.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he exclaimed, his face angry.
You could hear Steve's voice through his communicator because of how close he was.
“Shit.”
He grabbed your arm and you ran again.
Somehow, Bucky managed to get you out of the building as they bombed it again. You had a gunfight the moment you touched the cold snow.
You moved alongside Bucky like a symphony, aiming and firing with your gun until you managed to get away.
When you noticed that you kept going and kept running…
“Where's Steve?”
“If you had your fucking communicator on…”
Bucky grabbed your hand again to keep running.
You quickly reached a shack that looked abandoned and the man next to you wasted no time in letting go of you and running in the direction of what appeared to be a garage. There was a motorcycle.
You reached into your pocket only to realize that the communicator had been destroyed.
And Bucky looked too angry to want to talk.
“Get on.”
He drove all the way into town, but he didn't stop there.
You were on the road for at least about two hours. You had no idea where you were.
Somewhere along that trip, Bucky stopped in front of another abandoned shack and from there he pulled out a car. He set the bike on fire.
You went back on the road, for at least another hour.
Until you reached a small town and Bucky finally stopped in front of a house that didn't look so neglected.
“They destroyed the Quinjet's shields at missile point. Steve had to leave. We'll stay here until I can get through to Fury and we know what to do.”
His voice gave no room for retorts.
Present.
Well, yes, you were a bit reckless during missions, but so what? You got what you needed thanks to your incredible action plans and always came out unscathed. If you didn't do that during missions, how far behind would they be now in their knowledge against the enemy? They would probably be sitting ducks. Bucky didn't see that.
You two didn't talk for much of the afternoon and evening. You had spent it in the living room, trying to avoid the mess he had made to get something to eat and rest. You had perhaps slept for about three hours when you woke up and saw him sitting in one of the dining room chairs. The room looked cleaner than before.
Bucky sighed when he realized you had woken up.
“I'm sorry I yelled at you.”
You frowned. “What?”
“Earlier when we arrived. And for all the mess,” he averted his gaze when you leaned on your forearm to get a better look at him.
“Don't you think it was the least you could do?” quizzical, you sat back on the couch.
“Weren't you the one who said I don't know how to talk like a civilized adult?”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Sometimes.”
“Well, now I want to. That's why I deeply apologize for reacting that way.”
You remained silent, not really knowing how to answer him. On the previous mission you'd had with Bucky, when the whole mess was over and you were quietly in the Quinjet taking it all in, Bucky had only said “you're fucking crazy” to you before exiting the aircraft. There was no scolding, at least not from him, no complaining, no yelling. Just that. And with that you stayed for a week because you never even saw him again.
Despite the number of times you had heard that, you couldn't see it that way. That was your job, that was what you did and you didn't dislike it. You had done it forever, it was basically your way of life and you had always done it excellently. You trained and practiced for situations like that, that's why you were part of SHIELD's risk management team for so long. You used to risk your life like that to save other people and it didn't bother you. Now you were still doing it, also to save people. There was no dark reason behind it. You were contributing to a common good and that was enough.
“I guess I haven't made things bearable for you either,” you admitted with a hint of remorse.
“No, never,” Bucky shook his head in agreement.
“I'm sorry I scared you,” the words slipped from your mouth. You wanted to say something else, but, well, that had to work.
Bucky let out a short laugh. His head jerked in sync, his shoulders loose as if he didn't have a care in the world. For a moment you felt like you were somewhere else; maybe in a living room, some alcoholic beverage in one of your hands as one of your favorite songs played softly in the background, and Bucky. Bucky sitting in front of you, just like that moment.
Wow. What the fuck was that?
“You apologize for my reaction, but not for what you did?” his sly grin was getting on your nerves. You preferred it when he wasn't trying to upset you at the point of smirks. You never thought that was a weapon he could use against you.
Feelings.
Ew.
No, I hate Bucky Barnes. This is unacceptable. Mind, get your shit together.
“Well, I tried to do that earlier and you didn't care. I don't know what you want from me, Barnes,” you turned your head away, nonchalantly playing with your hair to avoid seeing those light eyes again.
“You'd better leave it at that. I couldn't take that knack away from you if I tried for years,” the sigh that accompanied his words reminded you of something you'd thought of when you were in the building. His face still looked calm, but a little upset by the wrinkle between his eyebrows.
“Why do you care so much about that?” you asked him directly now that you had the chance.
You looked at him as he turned his head away, his eyes roaming over your face, confused.
“Are you asking me why I care about your life?”
Puzzled, you shrugged. His look almost made you think that was a weird thing to ask, but was it really? “Yes. Well…. You hate me.”
“What? I don't hate you,” Bucky shook his head, his face more contracted than before as if you'd said he had cat ears on his head. He looked almost offended.
And that was the really strange thing.
You mean, almost as long as you'd known Bucky your relationship had been based on fights and demeaning adjectives to each other. That he would say that made even less sense than you asking him why he cared so much about you. He had to be pulling your leg.
“What? But I hate you because you hate me,” you explained vaguely, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. That was one way of putting it; that is to say, Bucky never gave any indication that he didn't hate you. Or well…
“I don't hate you,” Bucky shrugged, his nonchalant expression confusing you that much more. “You're just a little… insufferable sometimes.”
You rolled your eyes. “That's just a synonym for hating.”
“I don't hate you,” he repeated, this time turning to look you in the eye. For a moment you felt like your breath caught in your throat and you were going to choke. “I know we argue and say a lot of things to each other, but… hating is too strong a feeling.”
“Are you really serious?” you shook your head to get the extraneous thoughts out; that wasn't the time to make a discovery, to realize you had lived a lie.
“Yes. And just to make you more sure, I wouldn't mind hanging out with you outside the Complex,” Bucky blurted out, matter-of-factly.
Your head went blank.
“WHAT?”
Several seconds stunned.
Bucky barely cracked a smile at your dumbfounded expression. It sure looked like you'd actually seen cat ears grow on his head. The things he was now saying… they didn't make sense. “You dislike the idea that much?”
“Do you want to not say things so drastically different every moment? You're changing my perception of reality.”
Bucky kept his small smile and you had to swallow hard to ignore the warmth that settled in your chest. It wasn't welcome, not at that moment. The sound of that music in the living room in your head was getting louder, as if your own mind wanted to mock your surprise.
“Well, back to your question,” Bucky moved his hands nonchalantly over his lap and your eyes followed his movement unashamedly, “I don't see why I shouldn't care about your life. We are partners, after all.”
Partners? After all you had been through? Were you partners? Did Bucky believe that?
“Are we?” you didn't try to hide the incredulous tone that accompanied your words, because it already sounded like you'd just stepped through the door into a parallel dimension.
“Sure,” Bucky nodded to emphasize your words and the calm expression on his face became more familiar with each passing second. Could it be that that had always been the reality and you had been deprived of it? “We've known each other for five years.”
“I always thought you hated me…” you mumbled to yourself, looking lost because your head recalling every fight of the last few years, since you met him, every tongue out and every exalted word, but his incredible hearing clearly picked up what you said as if you had murmured it in his ear.
“Surely it was a mistake in communication.”
“Mistake?” you frowned at his reassurance. “You always called me stubborn and childish every chance you got.”
“I thought we were annoying each other. Although, of course,” his face became a little more serious, “there were times when I knew you hated me intensely. You said really hurtful things, what was I supossed to do? That's why I never bothered to talk to you like this. You did hate me.”
“Because I thought you…! Argh.”
Bucky smiled again.
“You're the insufferable one, Barnes.”
You hated the way your head snapped back to that image in the living room, so peaceful and calm, so serene and warm, the moment his barely noticeable smile hit you again. You had barely managed to get those words out of your mouth before you felt yourself running out of breath again.
Were you asthmatic?
And why was your head suddenly filled with platonic thoughts you'd never had before in your life?
What the fuck was happening to you?
“This is the longest civilized conversation we've ever had,” Bucky spoke again, his gaze wandering somewhere in the room.
Yes, that was true. Whenever you talked for this long it was always to argue and say hurtful things to each other. But you were too surprised by everything he had said, because just yesterday he told you that he didn't want to come on this mission with you either and in his eyes you were sure you saw something like what you felt. Something of hatred, when you saw your eyes through his.
Did you just… imagine it all?
Did you think he hated you because you hated him too?
Or maybe you wanted to convince yourself that he hated you. Maybe it was easier to deal with that than with the idea that you…
Oh no.
No, no, no. There's no fucking way that's it.
But then Bucky stood up and with his smug, know-it-all, hateful look, with that sly, evil grin, like he'd always known everything, like he was squirming around enjoying your confused stare, he held out his hand to you and said:
“Shall we fix something to eat?”
Oh, no, you were screwed.
--
a/n: thank u so much for reading!! <3
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rodolfoparras · 3 months
Note
okay so this is based off a dream that I had so I apologize in advance if this doesn't fully make sense.
but canine hybrid!price who's retired. he's served pretty long, and when he finally retired he was reluctant. though he didn't have much of a choice because his hearing had been slowly deteriorating over the past years. don't get him wrong he can still hear better than the average human, but his ears are no where as good as they used to be. it's not till he retires that he meets you. I think that you would be the one to point out his hearing, because he's always used to being around loud things that when you guys are watching a movie or something he has it on nearly the loudest volume possible.
once he finds out he looks into how to better take of his ears, which you help with. unknowingly, price's ears are very sensitive, and when you gently stroke them for the first time it sends a shiver down his spine instant boner. it's something that you note for later. but once you get into a rhythm and his ears are about as healthy as can be, you start to incorporate them into sex. whispering praises in his ear, gently stroke them, even just softly blow them, etc.
OH! and just imagine dressing up and going on a date with price at a restaurant, and when you sit down and get further into the dinner you start whispering absolutely filthy things you wanna do to him, just quiet enough that only price would be able to hear. if he walks out the restaurant with a boner and flushed in the face, no one says anything.
Thinking about Price who really isn’t that upset about going into retirement. What upsets him the most is the loneliness that comes with it
Once upon a time Price had found a mate. Back then he thought that the relationship would last forever. He had even promised himself that if he were to go into retirement he’d do it with them but they have long passed away, leaving him heartbroken and lonely.
Work had been his way to cope with the sorrow but now that he was retired he felt cornered. He had nothing but his loss to focus on. On top of that he was too old to find someone to fill the spot, not that he was thinking about finding a new mate anyway.
Needless to say Price had fallen into depression so much so 141 had forced him out the house and into a bar where he’d met you, another canine hybrid, one who’s much younger than him, and who had for whatever reason taken interest in him
You approached him, offered to buy him a drink, talked for a while before exchanging numbers and promising to meet up another time.
Price didn’t want to do it at first, wasn’t looking for a relationship at all. But he thought that it would do him good to make a new friend.
And Price had been right. He now had someone who frequently got him out of the house. Sometimes the two of you went to bars and sometimes you opted to go to parks.
Sometimes you didn’t leave the house at all. Instead you’d visit him with take out in hand. Sometimes you’d stroll into his kitchen and make him home cooked dinner, before putting on some movie to watch (something he appreciated a lot)
And it was nice being friends with a fellow canine hybrid because not only did you understand him on a personal level, but he could also offer you some guidance and advice, and for the first time since his retirement Price felt useful again.
However time continued to pass and his hearing loss got worse, his vision was even starting to blur and for the first time in his life Price needed the help of someone to manage his day to day task but he couldn’t get himself to ask.
Luckily for him you could tell he was struggling with something. You had first noticed it during your movie nights when he’d turn the volume up to the highest setting. You didn’t mind, thought that, like the typical canine, he enjoyed to be surrounded by sounds but it was excessive even for a canine hybrid.
But then you noticed how he’d rarely respond when you greeted him at the door, back turned to you while focusing on whatever task he was doing in the moment.
One time when the two of you were at the store you had told Price that you were going to go to another isle to look for something but he hadn’t heard you at all, looked around and saw you were gone and went into full panic mode.
You spent the rest of the day comforting him, reassuring him while he told you about the issue he’s been tackling lately.
As a canine hybrid yourself, you could understand that he was struggling, so you did everything in your power to help him out.
In one of the articles you read it said that training yourself to locate sounds would help improve your hearing. So you’d take him out in fields, running around in your full canine form and doing your best to identify the different type of sounds you were hearing.
He hadn’t wanted it at first, claimed that you can’t teach an old dog how to sit but he did it anyway, and even though he struggled a lot, you loved the way his face lit up every time he got a sound right.
Another tip was to take good care of the ears. Price would huff and roll his eyes every time you’d show up with a wash cloth and trimmers in hand but he’d let you do whatever you want, even feeling his face burn and mouth dry up at your tentative touch.
Something that wasn’t stated in the article but something you did anyway was that you offered to be his extra pair of ears. You had offered to help him out in his day to day tasks or even when out on hunts.
That offer had him speechless, frozen in place even, because it felt so intimate, more intimate than carrying your bite on his neck.
You had basically offered to be an extension of him and expected him to act normally.
See the two of you have grown much closer to the point where you might as well be courting him. However he still carried someone else’s mark on his neck. He was already claimed. But by offering this, you had basically said you were ready to take it further with him, despite everything.
Price hasn’t felt arousal in so long but when you have him pinned under your weight, while blowing onto his sensitive ears, he can feel blood pooling to the lower half of his body.
But it doesn’t stop there. When you notice just how sensitive they are, you lightly nip at them, hearing the whines and whimpers that escape his lips before he grinds down onto your clothed dick.
You even even yank on his ears, blunt nails digging into soft skin and leaving marks on it as you inch closer to your release, letting everyone know that even though he didn’t carry your scent or bite on his neck, he was yours anyway
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katsukiizmoon · 10 months
Text
╰┈➤ ꒰🍓♥️🌶 ┊”henny n’ coke, baby” + BKG ꒱
『♡』 18+ , healthy relationship, alcohol consumption, clubbing, grinding, twerking, friendly fun, making out w Mina, flirting, squirting, cum licking, cock sucking if u squint, finger sucking, light hair pulling, light choking, spitting in mouth, cum kisses, “good girl”, exhibitionism / voyeurism (if you squint), f!reader x katsuki bakugou
『♡』 was thinking about when my friend and I took turns spitting alcohol in one another’s mouth then kissed. Anyways this is a horny mess. Warning you now. IM a horny mess, fuck.
The club music is loud, you can hardly hear one another. It vibrates the floor and the tequila in your veins has you excited.
You start off with Kirishima, who whoops and hollers and catches your hips while you grind. You roll your hips in a circle, too tiny skirt coming up a little and flashing panties. Sweat beads on the back of your neck and you flip your hair to the side. Ignoring your massive hoop earrings getting stuck in your hair, you look back over your shoulder with a grin.
His hands are thick and large, where they lightly rest over the curve of your hips. He avoids touching too much. You thank him for that, but wish he’d be a little rougher.
Mina jumps in front of you and starts throwing it in a circle. Her ass presses into you and she bounces. Skimpy shorts show off pink ass cheeks and fishnets. She giggles loud enough you can hear it over the music. It’s hot, she’s hot, he’s hot. But you know what’s hotter? Katsuki.
And then you’re thirsty, horny, and on a mission. Everything seems amazing, the world feels like this is what life is about. One of those moments that makes you feel higher on life than just about anything else.
Mina takes over and Eijirou takes it upon himself to pull your skirt down enough to cover more of your ass. He gives a light tap to the fat there and gets close to your face, giving you a toothy smile.
He says something over the music and you don’t know what anything was. Except “good luck”.
Your beautiful, tall and strong boyfriend stands off to the side with Kaminari. They chat idly and you make your way to him, weaving through the crowds of people. Thank fuck you wore flat shoes and not heels today.
When you arrive he’s giving you a quick kiss, asking if you had fun, and you nod feverishly. Wordlessly you point to the drink in his hand and take a sip.
“Yuck! Wha’s this?” You whine, confused. Your features scrunch as if you’ve sucked on a lemon.
“Henny n’ coke baby.” Katsuki laughs and Kaminari raises his matching drink.
Katsuki looks edible- all tanned muscle and winks. You don’t blame all the women that have come up and attempted to dance with him. Comfortable black slacks and half unbuttoned, see through, Lacey top. You picked this for him, knew you wanted to see his body whenever you could. And the chain around his neck shines a little brighter against the club lights.
The song changes, less EDM and more so rap. You squeal, taking another sip of his drink and handing the rest to Kaminari.
Katsuki cocks a brow and Kaminari let’s out a laugh, knowing what’s coming. You grab at his wrist and leave a wet kiss to his lips. Throwing a wink to him, you stick your tongue out.
You push him toward an open chair, one of the few sitting in a corner and he falls back with a ‘oomph. He looks at you with wild, cherry eyes and Kaminari watches from the distance with a grin.
Katsuki’s on cloud nine, alcohol making him braver than he’s ever been and ridding him of his nerves. His cock stirs in his pants at the sight of you.
You plop your ass onto his crotch and grind, bouncing your hips up and down in rhythm. Something comes over you and you bounce on his lap like you’re riding his cock, making a kissy face toward Denki.
Katsuki throws his head back and grips on the fat of your hips, watching your mini skirt ride up and put your thong back on display. You turn to face him, rubbing his chest with your hands and rolling your body. Your knees are situated on either side of him, and you bounce your tits.
He wills himself not to fuck you in the club. Begs himself to show restraint, despite seeing the wet spot on your panties.
Your tongue slides over the seam of your lips, proving yourself back so that the back of your knees hangs over the chair. He watches you, steadying your excited movements with firm hands.
His cock presses into your ass and his eyes meet yours. Cherry eyes consume you, making you wild, and you lean back and flip off the chair.
First he panics, but when he sees your head pop back up and you smile, he laughs a little. He stands at that, bending you over and letting you twerk and grind against his cock in front of everyone. He nods to Denki, who heads over and hands him his drink swiftly.
The blond hunk you’ve got your ass pressed to takes a sip and gyrates his hips into yours. You snap back up and turn, shoving your tongue in his mouth. Your sparkly gloss smears onto the corners of his mouth and he licks into you.
When you pull back for breath, he uses a thumb to wipe some of it off your face and gives you a wink. Denki still stares, gobsmacked, cock growing hard in his pants at the sight before him.
Eijirou and Mina make their way over with another set of drinks and you take a nice, long swig. The pink haired girl grins and pulls you in for a kiss, earning a low whistle from Eijirou and a couple swears from the two blondes.
She tastes sweet, like vodka and orange juice, and her lips are plush. You make note to run off to the bathroom for a makeup touch up later. But that thought is shoved down when her hands reach around to snake up your skirt. She grips at the flesh there and leaves a firm smack. Her tongue is long and it explores, sending shivers down your spine and making your clit pulsate in your panties. Your hips kick and she grins into your mouth, pulling back with a string of spit. A choked noise leaves one of the men in the group.
“Can he spit my drink in my mouth?” She whispers, inches from your lips.
You nod, pulling away and sending him a wink. She practically bounces toward him and gets in front of him, back turned. The music vibrates your bones and soothes the ache in your tummy. Katsuki hands his drink to Eijirou and grabs hers out of her hand.
Eijirou groans out a “me next” and Denki a “me third “.
She does a little twerk on him and he grabs her by the throat. You watch as your boyfriend uses a large, rough hand to position her just right. Her mouth hangs open and she closes her pretty eyes. He brings her drink to his swollen lips, sucking through the straw.
Then he swishes it in his mouth and your pussy throbs at what he does next. He’s spitting it in her mouth, not letting her come up to breathe properly until she swallows. And god you have got to be next on the list.
Her eyes roll back and she licks her lips. You’re on your way over to Katsuki, excited, tipsy, and much too in love with that idea. God bless Mina, the kinky bitch.
The other two take their turns and it shows what they’re like in bed, too. Denki is sweet about it, takes his time, sends her off with a wink and a light tap to the jaw with his hand. And Kirishima? Fuck. He has Denki give him the drink, holding it up. His other arm holds her close to his chest and he hovers his mouth right over Hers and spits. Before she can protest, his thumb is in her mouth and he’s telling her to suck.
People whistle and holler, a group of girls make a moaning sound and one of them yells a “god when will that be me” over the music.
And you’re all sucking down glasses of water and pouring an electrolyte mix in to avoid hangover next. Only to go grab another drink, something that’ll leave you all just a little hornier and on edge.
Katsuki and you find yourselves desperately yanking clothes off at the end of the night. The Uber pulls off and you make sure Mina, Denki, and Eijirou got to their shared destination safe. And then something comes over Katsuki that you’ve never seen before.
It isn’t jealousy, not by a long shot. His cock is leaking precum when you pull it out and he’s gasping, pushing his tongue further into your mouth.
You quickly make it to the bed, still in your shirt and thong, and him in just the goddamned button up. And he’s got you bent over, pressed into the mattress, thong pulled to the side. and fucking you so hard you’re high.
“Yeah? You liked them watching you rub on my cock huh?” He gasps, face numb. A pink tongue licks over puffy lips and he leans forward to anchor his hand in your hair. It stings but he isn’t pulling, just gripping hard enough for you to know he’s got you.
His cock is so thick, filling you to the brim and then some, and you whine out agreements. Drool leaks from the corner of your mouth and he brings his head closer to yours. His hips stop moving and you whimper, pushing yourself back on him desperately.
“You wanted to suck Eijirou, didn’t you baby?” Katsuki rasps, licking and sucking below your ear.
Your pussy squeezes and it gives him his answer. He drops his hand in your hair, bringing one around and under your panties to rub circles on your clit. The other, he brings up to spit on the tips of his middle and forefinger before he shoves them in your mouth. You keen, squeezing harder and sucking on his fingers.
“Look at this, such a good, good girl for me. Come on pretty, tell me what you want.” He mutters, willing himself to stay still. His fingers are removed from your mouth and you frantically start begging for him to move.
But he doesn’t, he continues rubbing lazy circles and his hand wraps around your throat. He squeezes lightly, just enough to make you dizzy and float. And then he stops, and does it again, and then he just holds it there. Let’s you know that he could if he wanted to.
“What do you say?” He demands, more than asks, and his lips tingle.
His throat is dry, tongue heavy, watching you try to fuck yourself on his cock. But you can’t, it won’t work the same without him doing it. And he knows that.
“Fuck- oh god fuck- please, please, please!”
Your fingers dig into the sheets and spit covers his hand. He removes his fingers from your pussy, where they originally rubbed, and he sucks the taste of you off of them and moan. He throws his head back and slams into you.
You shake, spongey spot being bullied by the head of his cock. Your thong is ruined, no double stretched out. Pussy juice slicks down your thighs and froths at the base of his cock. He pulls his hand off your throat, sitting back on his knees, where he spits where his cock meets your pussy. It’s dirty, and he watches you clench around him, sucking him in.
Your pussy squelches, spewing clear juice all over the bed and you praise him like he’s fucking god. Begging him not to stop, to stop, to keep going, harder. Faster. And then he rubs your clit back and forth, up and down, making the squirt spray everywhere.
Something in you snaps and your body goes taut and then limp, your eyes rolling back as you just lay there and take it. And he pulls out, flipping you over and crawling forward.
You watch in awe as your boyfriend, with a face burning peachy and coral tones, fucks into his fist over your face. You open your mouth and he sinks his cock in, just a little, and pulls out again. You reach a hand up, wrapping around the base. There you move, licking at the head of his cock to taste yourself and the precum off of it.
He cums a minute later, all over your pretty lips, where he promptly licks at. He suckles on your bottom lip and spits some of his cum back into your mouth. You greedily accept, swallowing it down with a giggle.
It takes a few moments for you both to collect yourself. And then you’re grabbing the bottle of water beside the bed and taking turns chugging. The Gatorade is next, before you head off to the bathroom. He licks his thumb and wipes some of the cum off of your face, sucking it off of his finger.
Then, you’re brushing your teeth and butt ass naked, showering sloppily. The clock on your nightstand reads 5:08 am and you sigh into his chest when you finally lay down for sleep. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.
Eijirou and Mina are going to love hearing these stories tomorrow.
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biblebloodhound · 2 years
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Leviticus 23:1-8 – There’s More to Life Than Work
"Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for. Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us." Maya Angelou
The Lord said to Moses: Speak to the Israelites and say to them: These are my appointed times, the Lord’s appointed times, which you will declare to be holy occasions: Work can be done for six days, but the seventh day is a Sabbath of special rest, a holy occasion. You must not do any work on it; wherever you live, it is a Sabbath to the Lord. These are the Lord’s appointed times, holy occasions,…
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zsupika · 1 month
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Love and Deepspace x Reader
> general relationship headcanons
A/N: I've been in the lnd fandom for a few weeks now and I'm so obsessed of this game. Keep in mind these are just some random things that I have in mind when I think of them in a relationship.
>> My requests are open if you have any ideas!
Characters: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel
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Xavier
I imagine him as a very caring boyfriend
He'd listen to what you have to say and whenever you have something that troubles you, try and find a solution
His favorite sleeping position has got to be spooning you with him being the big spoon
He just loves to embrace you and know that you're safe in his arms
While laying like that he loves to breath in your scent
And while you're asleep, he plays with your hair and softly glides his fingers along your skin
It calms him down, especially after aonh day of fighting wanderers
He also likes to go on missions together with he
He won't admit it but whenever you get assigned with a different partner than him, he gets so jealous
He just loves to spend time with you
He's more a listener than a talker
Through the entire year he takes notes on the things that you mentioned you wanted to have
When your birthday comes up he buys all those things for you!!
Although he loves to spoil you on valentines day with flowers, chocolate and lots of kisses, he doesn't really see a point in the day specifically
He buys you flowers every once in a while and doesn't understand why there would have to be a whole day dedicated for it
But if you see it as important, he definitely puts up an effort to make you happy and see a smile on your face
He always blushes when you get him something in return!
He prefers to give, more that receive
He also makes sure that you're nicely relaxed after a mission
While you sit on your chair he might come up from behind and give you a soft shoulder massage and some neck kisses to ease your mind and body
I imagine him to smell like lavender and fresh laundry
His favorite drink has to be iced coffee and water
In winter he'll also drink a hit chocolate with you
He loves to add cute toppings and make it delicious
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Zayne
As we all know he's a doctor and always very busy
You see him a lot less than you would the other two boys
He appreciates it when you come to the hospital and visit him on his breaks
You'd remind him to relax and take it easy every once in a while
It makes him smile to know that you care for him so much
Him not being able to see you as much makes him sad, so he tries to make the few dates that you go on extra special
He always consideres your wishes and does whatever you desire
You want to stay home with him and watch a movie? Sure, he'd love to. You want to go out to a fancy restaurant? Yeah, he's down.
He has a hard time expressing his emotions with his words, so he's definitely more of a "actions over words" kinda guy
His love language would equal to "acts of service" and "quality time"
His hugs and kisses feel very intimate, because it's his way of expressing his emotions to you
He adores the fact that you understand him so well and that you respect his boundaries
He's a morning person for sure
He likes black coffee
For you he always makes sure that you're healthy
Whenever you get a little sick, he's always worried about you and tries to prevent it with all that he can
It makes you chuckle how much he can get worked up over a little cold
Once you get better he makes sure that you stay healthy and happy
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Rafayel
Starting of with a very basic headcanon but I think he'd paint you
But not in the way in which you might think
He wouldn't only paint full on portraits of you but he'd incorporate you into his art in a very different way
He'd draw the landscape of your favorite places
He would use your eye color as the background color of a beautiful still-life
You being around him would inspire him to draw freely without any restrictions
Your laugh would make him move his brush in the same rhythm
Sometimes he'd let you help him with a painting
He also loves to go and search for different ways to create paint with you and look for ingredients
I think even though he's very sassy and bold most of the time, when it comes to intimate moments he'd be rather shy
He blushes a lot!
And definitely has a hard time keeping eye contact with you in those moments
His kisses are more soft and caring than you might think at first
In my eyes he'd be the furthest thing from rough in any intimate situations
He holds you as if you were a fragile piece of glass that could break at any second
He feels like you're the only one who he can let his emotions out on, without feeling judged
Loves sleeping on top of you like a weighted blanket
Slightly snores but not very loud
It's more of a heavier breathing
As we know he's very ticklish
When you two are playfighting you can definitely take advantage of that
He'll be a whining and whimpering mess
Do with that what you want
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norrizzandpia · 4 months
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Hiii!! I hope you're doing well ??? :)
Sooo I was wondering if you can write something like the reader is in relationships with Oscar but they don't live together but they both live in Oxford near each other. And there is a really big storm but the reader HATE storms like crazy, I mean, she makes panic attacks just because of that and all the things that go with (idk if u understand) anyway. So she calls Oscar and he comes to comfort her.
Thanks if you do it 🫶🏻
SO SO CUTE also you added this to it for people who don’t know
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Storms (OP81)
Summary: Where Y/n hates thunder storms and Oscar’s the only person who can calm her down.
Warnings: inferences of a panic attack, idk
Oscar was known for being typically unbothered. Very calm, not extremely well at communicating or showing his feelings, that was the way people described him. However, for once in his life, he was anything but unbothered. As he ran around his house like a maniac, grabbing his keys and other necessities, he spoke with his girlfriend over the phone, her voice trembling in fear over the loud storm raging on outside.
“I’m on my way, Y/n. Just take some deep breaths for me, yeah?” He said softly, different to the loudness in his head.
He knew she was nodding, not truly thinking about the fact he couldn’t see her. He slipped out of his house and into his car, connecting her to the speaker.
He heard the way the air in her lungs wasn’t quite there, making it hard for her to catch her breath. His ears strained as he tried to see if she was on the cusp of a panic attack, being familiar with the connection between her and those.
“Baby, breathe. I’m going to be there so soon, love. Just keep trying to breathe. For me, maybe?” Even though he tried to hide it, his tone exposed his own feelings of panic and dread. He was worried for her immensely, the way his hands shook told him that much.
“Y/n, I need you to talk back to me. It’ll only help you.” He gave, voice shaking slightly at the way she coughed on the other side of the phone.
Her broken voice met his ears, “I’m trying- to breathe.”
Her words were choppy as she tried another intake of breath, another failure. He nodded to himself, trying to calm himself down in order to handle her effectively. He turned the corner onto her street rather recklessly and his brakes squealed as he stopped in front of her house. Any other day and he would’ve scolded himself for driving so irrationally in the middle of a rainstorm.
“I’m here, baby. Just give me a moment and I’ll be at your door.” He didn’t wait to hear her reply. Ditching the umbrella. Oscar ran out in the rain with his phone hidden in his jacket. He rushed to her door, knocking quickly.
The door unlocked and, right as it inched open, he shoved himself in. Oscar didn’t truly look at her as he flung his arms around her and held her head to his wet chest.
His hands tangled in her hair as he felt her chest begin to even out, calming down and reaching a healthy breathing rhythm. He held onto her for a few minutes, saying nothing and making sure she was recovering. When he pulled back, her cheek glistened with the raindrops that had clung to his shirt and, even though she was cold with the shivering emitting from her body, she smiled up at him.
Finally, he breathed out, the worry etched into his face fleeting as he pushed her hair back and kissed her lightly.
“You scared me.” She whispered against him, hands clinging to his drenched jacket.
He reeled back, “I scared you?! You scared me!”
She nodded, “I can tell.”
His mouth fell agape at her words, “You’re acting like you didn’t just have a panic attack.”
She giggled at him, “No, just surprised at this new Oscar.”
He knew exactly what she meant. He was aware of the way he handled his emotions, knowledgable of the fact that he was quite closed off. However surprised he was at the emotions that just exuded from him freely, he wasn’t surprised at the fact it revolved around Y/n. His relationship with her was constantly teaching him different things, the way his emotions worked being one of them.
Suddenly, he was highly aware of the way his clothes stuck to his skin, now regretting his decision to forget about the umbrella. His girlfriend clocked his disgusted expression at the feeling and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward her bedroom and to the dresser that held his extra clothes.
She hunched over, looking through the drawers and sifting through the different underwear, sweatpants, shirts, and other items.
“What do you want?” She asked him. Oscar nudged her away, looking at her weirdly.
“Go lay down, Y/n. I got this. Just go rest, baby.” He persuaded her easily as she nodded and padded over to the bed behind him, plopping down.
When he was back, freshly dried with only his hair slightly damp, he joined her in the plush comforter. He pulled her into him as thunder boomed behind the windows. She curled further into him, the sounds making her palms sweat as she shoved her face in his chest. Oscar melted into her touch, letting his hand cradle her head as he planted kisses over her head.
“Thank you for being here, answering my call.” She whispered, fingers toying with the band of his pajamas.
He breathed her in, “Of course, love. I’ll always be there for you when you need me.”
Her hands moved to lay across his waist as he rubbed up and down her back. It was peaceful and quiet, even with the loudness from the outside.
He held her until she fell asleep and, even then, he didn’t let go. His grip on her never loosening, continuing to protect her from whatever startled her.
And there, in the makeshift cocoon he had constructed just for her, she felt incredibly safe.
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granddaughterogg · 28 days
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You Let Me Complicate You - Part 3
SUMMARY: Simon "Ghost" Riley is a consummate fuckboy who uses fleeting trysts to blow off steam collected at his deadly job. You - the Reader - are a cynical, world weary girl with a penchant for one night stands. None of you are prepared for the horror of Actually Falling In Love. Also - the mask stays on for ridiculously long. Tags: From Sex to Love, Flirting, Random Encounters, First Impressions, One Night Stands, Dirty Talk, Swearing. So. Much. Swearing, Reader Gets Harassed By Assholes, Simon Beats Up An Asshole, Rough Sex. It's all fully consensual tho!
PART 2 HERE
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Music pulsated in your temples, but you've completely lost the will to dance. Streaks of murky blue light cut across the dance floor, where the crowd rippled along with the rhythm. You made yourself comfortable on the plush sofa and watched people for a while. Fortunately, this mass of heads, arms and legs in motion was dense enough to hide that wired fucker from your sight.
You hoped to never see him again.
The one you wanted to see has vanished into thin air like Cinderella. A Cinderella who was six feet four, great at chatting women up and built like a wrestler. Who smelled like a heady mix of drugstore cologne, expensive whisky, sweat – and for some fucking reason also like fireworks.
Could it be that his ride has turned into a pumpkin? You would start to ask yourself whether you've imagined him – the man was larger than life after all – but you could still taste that smokey, alcoholic kiss on your lips.
A kiss which was deranged and therefore unforgettable.
You'd have to wipe your brain with a Scrub Daddy to get rid of that memory.
Son of a bitch.
Disappeared, but left the bottle. He clearly had money to throw around.
You ignored the liquor, pouring yourself a healthy glass of water instead.
It seemed that life had offered you an abrupt comedown from this short, all-consuming high. You sat and swallowed tasteless liquid in a sober – and sombre - manner, considering your options.
Option 1.  You could go ask that bartender with the face like a slapped arse whether he's seen your beau around. Which surely would be Humiliating.
Option 2.  You could give up on vanishing hunks and go home. Which was probably the sensible option, if one you didn't feel like taking.
Option 3. You could do what you usually did whenever life served you with a plot twist: have a smoke break.
You were a woman of culture and therefore perfectly aware that those days, smoking is bad form – almost as much as admitting that one does not intend to go vegan. But then, you were also sensible and knew what kind of end awaits persistent cigarette enthusiasts. A cough which sounds just like torn cardboard, a tracheotomy, or death.
The thing is, you've always considered the spectacle of smoking one of the sexiest feats for a man to perform, while the taste of nicotine soothed your nerves and restored you to the state of being serenely one with the universe. All those vapes smelling of fucking strawberries felt as appealing as Boris Johnson's ass.
So you let out a sigh, finished your water, threw on your jacket, grabbed your umbrella and marched across the club, guessing that smokers have been traditionally banished to the outside.
The iron door creaked open like the hatch to a bank vault. 
Your suspicions were correct. Nicotine hostages stood around the entrance, some on the grass, others on the cracked concrete path. Milky serpentines of smoke blew away quickly in the night wind. Fortunately, the rain had abated somewhat. Instead of an icy wave splashing in your face, you were greeted by a cold drizzle.
That you could deal with.
Unfortunately, fate had yet other things in store for you.
You've managed to pat all your jacket pockets, fish out a box of cigarettes, experience relief, because it wasn't soggy, pat your pockets again, find a lighter, and stick a fag into your mouth...It would take in this damp air, so for a moment there you focused on the wobbly little flame instead of your surroundings.
Which was a mistake.
"Need help with this, beautiful?" Asked some stranger's voice.
"Jesus on a stick", you grumbled without even bothering to meet his eye.
"I said", the voice wasn't to be deterred easily, "Do you need help?"
You looked up. Some dude has obstructed the light coming from the small bulb, hanging above the entrance in its industrial iron casing. He was big, even stocky - not as big as your fleeting masked acquaintance, naturally, but quite thick in his own right. Had a pudgy face that you wouldn't be able to describe even at the police station. The patchy beard didn't help either. That's all you could say about him because he didn't spark your interest.
"Nope", you said flatly.
"What do you mean, nope?" 
The man leaned over you, hanging his head unpleasantly close. He smelled like beer and Axe body spray.
You sighed. "I mean it in general. Go away."
"But I've just come here", the dude grinned, as if he'd said something truly brilliant.
"That's not my problem." 
The tip of your cigarette finally took hold of the fire. You shielded it with your palms, taking half a step away from the persistent bloke. Only a half, because the door was right behind you.
Unfortunately, your new friend wasn't about to take a hint.
"Oh come on now", he whined. "Don't be rude to me like this. Let's have a talk."
You never had a lot of patience, not even on your best days. Now it was running dangerously low.
"I don't have to be nice to you", you hissed right into his stupid grin. "I don't have to talk to you either. Go bestow the gift of your company on someone who'll enjoy it."
You've made two mistakes. The first one was assuming that gassed pick-up artists understand sarcasm. The second one was using words and not just your boot instead.
He leaned forward and grabbed your arm. It was not a firm grip, but the touch of this stranger's sweaty fingers on your skin made you nauseous.
"You don't understand how much you're fucking yourself over" - he went on in that slow, obstinate manner of a drunkard, sizing you up with a glazed look. " You're depriving yourself of a chance...yes, a chance. For something better, something to elevate that sad, lonely, fuckless life of yours! A man walks up to you like a gentleman...chimes in with utmost tact and gets mauled. Women of today don't understand -"
You didn't find out what is it that women of today don't understand. You hurled your lit cigarette straight into his panting mouth and pressed your elbow against the handle of that cursed door. It swung open with a groan - not loud enough to drown out the surprised yelp of your aggressor. He let go of your hand. You jumped inside, trying to slam that door right in his face, but even an agile woman, one well aware of her surroundings is much weaker physically than an average man. 
It was a long time since you had to grasp that bitter truth because you had avoided places like this. Well, that was your reminder.
The dude broke in when you were already halfway into the dark club premises, walking as fast as possible without just bolting it.
Music blared from the speakers, making the walls tremble, but you were still aware that he was coming after you. Slow but tireless, like fucking Michael Myers. You didn't have to look over your shoulder to know. Every woman has this radar installed.
You hauled ass, pushing people aside and collecting bemused looks. You headed straight for the bar like a sailor towards a lighthouse in a storm. You intended to chain yourself to that bar; to make Geoffrey call the cops if necessary.
Eventually, you managed to come ashore. You pushed your way through the crowd of patrons queuing for a drink, ignoring their shouts of disapproval. You climbed onto the first available stool and set your elbows on that cold concrete counter. The bartender was nowhere to be seen. Ain't that just the way.
"Hey, Governor!" you hollered towards the row of glittering bottles behind the counter. "We have a problem!"
"Why hello there", said a high-pitched voice to your left. It didn't sound particularly friendly.
You jumped as if at the push of a spring, spinning around on that stool. Your heart jolted abruptly. For in the dim light, you spotted this long-haired fuckhead from the dancefloor. He sat there, measuring you with a glassy look and sporting a wide, deadpan grin.
You took a long swig of air. This was a fucking nightmare, a Halloween special, and you were drowning in it. Drowning in the waters coming up to your chin, black as ink. A woman who went out simply to have fun.
"I thought I'd find you here", he continued, his voice eerily flat, his gaze pinned to yours. "You ugly slut."
"Geoffrey, shake a leg!" you yelled into the void behind the counter. 
"Think you can just walk around and kick people?" asked the long-haired man as casually as if he'd wanted your opinion on the weather. He leaned closer, adding in a low voice:
"Rabid bitches like you shouldn't be let off the chain."
From what you could gather he wasn't that muscular, but you'd already met men with such hollow eyes and a flat affect. Getting into a tussle with one of them was always a bad idea. Whatever fueled this fucker – illegal substances, his own charming personality or both - you didn't feel like dealing with it.
You jumped off the stool, putting him between you and the guy, spun on your heel...
... only to run face-first into the armpit of that specimen from the front of the club. It turned out he didn't stop his TED Talk this whole time.
"...men and women ought to be friends, there should be a sense of CAMARADERIE between them, a sense of friendship, not this, whatever this is. I am being FRIENDLY to you, I am treating you with reverence, yes, REVERENCE and what do I get in return? I swear -"
Two gorilla arms pawed at you, pressing you against his chest. Your nostrils filled with his nauseating smell and the odour of Axe. You couldn't breathe.
"...this war between the sexes must end, or you will all die alone and you'll be so UNHAPPY, you hear me?" He panted into the top of your head. "You will cry your eyes out, surrounded by sex toys and CATS instead of children -"
You gathered all your strength and pulled yourself away from the numbing stench, driving your nails into your assailant's chest. The dude yelped and let you go. You fell back, parting the crowd. Suddenly two capable hands held at your shoulders, firmly but without causing pain.
You got enveloped in the familiar mix of scents - man, cheap cologne, expensive whisky, fireworks.  Oh, thank god.
"One can't leave ya alone for a minute, eh?" said Skullface, calm as ever.
You almost burst into tears of relief - and into tears of anger, too. He's left you all alone in this shithole and let it happen.
You jumped back, darting your head up to look into those dark peepers of his. There he was, all composed, towering effortlessly over everyone in sight. Tall like an unconquered mountain.
"Where the fuck were you?! I'm being harassed by creeps!"
"Plural?" The skull mask tilted in amusement, but you've noticed how his eyes swept the perimeter, and his hold on your shoulders loosened, but not to the point of release.
"You sure are popular."
You scoffed. 
"This shit ain't fun. But seriously, what were you doing?"
He shrugged. With shoulders like his it was a pronounced shrug.
"Pissing."
"For that long?!"
It was an undignified squawk, but you didn't care. You were stressed. You felt scared and fed up.
The man fell silent for a moment. Then he scratched the back of his head.
"If you really need to know, I also laid a brick."
You stared at him in disbelief, but that covered face betrayed nothing, and his eyes seemed sincere.
"What? You asked", he added.
It was as if some lever had been pulled inside your stressed mind. Suddenly you no longer felt like tearing him a new one. Instead, you wanted to burst out laughing.
"Alright then. I hope you washed your hands", you murmured, stepping forward and touching the front of his hoodie. He cupped your much smaller hand in his big one, tracing over its back with his long fingers. They were so warm.
You both smiled. His eyes looked strangely charming when they creased under all that eyeshadow...or whatever that black stuff was.
"You don't have much faith in the opposite sex, don't ya."
"That's EXACTLY what I've been saying!" 
The stocky dude from before emerged from the fray, pushing people aside and beelining to you as if the three of you were good friends. 
"I'm trying to explain to her how DETRIMENTAL this hostile approach towards men is, but she won't listen -"
"That's Creep No. 1", you murmured.
Skullface got visibly alert. He put you right behind him, blocking access like a guard dog. He straightened up to his full impressive height, but you stuck your head out from his armpit anyway. Now that the danger has dissipated, you felt curious as to how this shit would end.
"You." Said the masked man, pointing his finger at the idiot. "Get bent."
"The fuck you saying to me, mate?" The TED Talker was clearly an obstinate drunk.
"I'm a free man, a citizen of a free country! Can do whatever and talk to whoever I please, including this stuck-up bitch right here and you can't make me -"
Skullface's long, bulky arm shot forward, hand closing around the neck of this champion of men's civil liberties. You watched, transfixed. Your eyes have barely registered movement.
"The lady doesn't want to talk to you", Skullface explained, his tone almost friendly. "You better apologise."
The other dude stared at him with bulging eyes. Then he glanced at the large hand, gripping him like a vice. He tried to swallow – not an easy feat when your airways are being compressed – and finally tapped at Skullface's hand with his own shaky fingers.
Your masked friend released him. The bloke staggered, massaging his throat and breathing heavily. He was anything but frail, clearly possessing some strength of his own. And yet there he was, reduced to an ungainly, panting mess. 
"Alrighty then", he gasped. "Sorry..."
"Not to me." Skullface's already deep voice dropped a notch, dark and metallic. You felt a sudden chill licking at your spine. " To her."
The other dude cut you a quick look, his eyes wide and scared. Drunkedness has clearly been choked out of him. 
"Yeah yeah, sorry to you both. Jesus, mate. Chill.."
A snigger tore out of you while you watched that asshole slink away. It felt great. 
"Having fun?" Skullface's tone dripped with amusement.
"Yeah!" you admitted, stepping past his wide frame and looking him in the face. "I wish I had popcorn!"
He blinked at you. Slowly, like a pleased cat would.
"Let's go," he ordered and began pushing his way deeper into the club. You followed suit.
You two found yourselves back in that corner near the dancefloor. Skullface reached for the flask of whisky.
"We're leavin', eh?" he asked.
"Let's," you agreed. "That's enough clubbing for one day." 
You looked around, searching for your jacket, but it was nowhere to be seen.
"Fuck," you hissed. 
He raised his head. "What's goin' on?"
"I left my jacket at the bar. Don't disappear on me again, okay?”
"You got it." 
He sat comfortably and poured himself some more liquor, downing it promptly. You wondered about this man's incredible alcohol tolerance but didn't have the time to ponder on it. 
You squeezed your way back through the crowd, grappling with rapidly growing irritation. First, you'd shout "Excuse me!" again and again and then you'd just work your elbows. 
You told him the truth; you were fed up with partying, with the crowd and with the noise. Wherever this masked man was going to take you would be an improvement.
You finally made it to the bar, threw your jacket on and turned on your heel, starting the journey back immediately, like a ferry connecting two shores.
"Excuse me, excuse me, oh, fuck, sorry, excuse me -"
You stumbled over someone's foot, fell face forward into their T-shirt, pushed yourself away with both hands and then got grabbed by the wrist, which someone held at and jerked it so abruptly that you heard a crunch. Your whole body pivoted, led by the force of inertia. You tried to break free but to no avail. The man twisted both your arms and pinned them to your back, his breath right in your ear, hot and stinking like beer. His words were a searing sludge of intoxication and malice.
"Sorry's not gonna be enough."
You looked up - right into the blank face of that psycho from earlier. His pupils were two black holes. Icy panic flooded your veins, raising little hairs all over your body. He was dragging you somewhere away from the bar, his grip strong and painful. He was elbowing his way through the fray, and nobody around you in this densely populated club seemed to care – or notice for that matter. If they did, they cast you both one glance and decided that they don't want trouble.
You tried your darnedest to fight him, tensed all over in an attempt to break out of his hold, but with your arms twisted there was not much room for action. Or the guy was simply stronger than you. 
Every average man is so much stronger than an average woman, after all. A reminder of this truth came back to you in a bitter wave while your unwilling feet scraped over the concrete floor. 
In moments like these, you saw everything in razor-sharp HD. The dregs of intoxication evaporated from your system while you gained a cool, detached view of the mess you were in.
You looked in all directions, trying to find something that could aid you. It crossed your mind to call your new friend for help. But what name were you supposed to use?
The attacker dragged you into some dark corner and threw you onto an armchair standing there. Its aged springs groaned under your weight. The man pressed both hands into the wooden backrests and leaned so close that you smelled his sour breath.
"I'll put you back in your place", he promised, undoing his belt buckle.
To do this he had to let go of you. It was a small opening, but you took it.
You sat up, reached quickly into your loose chignon, slipped out the hairpin, clenched your hand around it and swung, aiming for the gut -
"The fuck you doing?" he sniggered, grabbing at our hand and stilling it mid-way. "I'll cut you open, you daft cow -"
He did not, in fact, cut you. He didn't do shit, because a dark mountain shaped like a man appeared behind his back.
This time Skullface didn't engage in Manly Posturing. He struck your assailant once, somewhere between the ear and the jugular. The bloke staggered, fell forward, but regained balance, turned on his heel and pounced. Skullface dodged, fast like a bullet, grabbed the other man's arm and twisted it downwards with a profound crunch, at the same time driving his other fist into his stomach.
The dude let out a stifled groan. For a moment he sagged like a rag in your companion's grip but came to quickly and began thrashing around, emitting some unintelligible, high-pitched noises. 
Skullface picked up the floundering man as if his opponent was a rowdy cat. Then he held him at full arm's length, clearly considering the way forward.
"He's on drugs!" You offered. "I don't think he feels pain!"
"Figures," he said. "Should've gone down already."
"Then take him down!" You asked, growing impatient.
Skullface shot you a look from under creased eyebrows.
"S'not that simple,", he explained. "If I hit him again, it prob won't cut the mustard. Bloke's foamin' at the mouth, see? But if I hit him real hard, he might stay down for good. And then Price will yell my noggin' off -"
"SUCK COCKS IN HELL!!!" Chimed in the subject of his deliberations. 
Skullface shook him a little.
"Who's Price?" You asked.
"My boss. He's a real stickler when it comes to those things."
"What things?" Your head was swimming. " Killing people?"
Skullface rubbed his nose with his free hand.
"He says we have an image to uphold...that we need to inspire public trust. Some such tosh." 
He noticed the hairpin, which you were still holding.
"Gimme that. I got an idea."
You handed him the pin and watched in a stupor as he hurled the guy to the floor, using a kick to stretch him flat. The man spat, snarled and threw himself around like a fish out of water, but it didn't do squat. Your masked companion grabbed him by the forearm, pressed it against the wooden backrest of one of the armchairs - and drove the sharp end of the pin right into his outstretched palm, literally pinning him in place. Blood gushed out.
You held your breath. The man howled like a thing possessed, but Skullface had already turned away.
"You broken?" He asked, hunkering down in front of your armchair. His eyes scanned all over you, seeking for signs of injury.
"What?.."
He sighed and shook his head.
"Nevermind. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, he didn't have the time to do anything..." You moved your affected hand and squirmed, seeing a fresh bruise. "Apart from fucking up my wrist, maybe. but I'll live."
"Good."
He stood up and helped you clamber out of the armchair.
"Let's go", he said.
You followed him while he shouldered his way through the club.
You two arrived at the bar, where Geoffrey The Pinched Face begrudgingly poured someone a tequila.
"Geoff, call the coppers", instructed Skullface, putting both forearms on the counter. His voice was low and confidential.  "You've got quite a specimen in here. Mad as a badger, bein' a nuisance to the ladies. Careless with sharp objects, see. Went and nailed himself to a chair."
"Nailed himself?" Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. "On his own? I swear to god, Ghostie. If I didn't like you so much..."
"Then you'd have casualties here every fuckin' Friday." Skullface extended a hand. "Gimme the key. We'll wait this out upstairs."
Geoff silently handed him a small key. The masked man set off across the dark hall. You had to run to keep up with him.
" Ghostie?  Should I start calling you that?"
"It's Ghost", came from behind his broad back. 
"What kind of a name is Ghost anyway?" you inquired, but he didn't grace you with an answer.
You've reached the foot of a winding, narrow staircase made entirely of wrought iron.
"Up there", he ordered. "Watch your step."
You did as you were told. Your boots raised sharp echoes in the steps. The stairs winded upwards for what felt like forever; finally, you stood very high above the dance floor, in front of a black door. The paint was peeling away. A red neon reading HELLO adorned it, but the O had gone out and HELL alone remained.
Fitting,  you thought.  I'm following a stranger into an unknown place. A man who is darkness, yet somehow I am not afraid. 
You were hardly the naive, virginal Persephone. But hey, even myths need to get on with the times.
"That was seriously cool what you just did," you said, turning to your companion, walking right behind you. " Stab! Right between the metacarpals!"
"He'll stay put until the law arrives." He didn't seem to be impressed by your high praise.
"You've sharpened it, didn't you”, he added. "The hair thingie."
You shook your newly freed hair and shot him one incredulous look.
"I'm a woman who's endeavoured a solo night on the town in a tiny dress. What do you think? Of course I've sharpened it."
Ghost nodded slowly.
"A woman after my own heart..."
"Aw, thanks!" you sent him your best seductive smile and invited yourself into his personal space, your back almost leaning on his warm chest and head tilted upwards.
He only pulled you closer.
"Can we go back to having fun now?" You asked. "I'm fucking tired of being hunted for sport."
His long forearm settled across your chest, hand drawing small circles on your opposite shoulder.
"Yeah", he said softly. "We can."
He had to loosen his embrace to insert the key into the lock. The door swung open, creaking ghastly. Your nose filled with the scent of wood and rooms long un-aired. It looked like a typical attic with slanted wooden walls and a small window just below the ceiling. When Ghost turned on the light - which was faint red - you saw low tables and soft futons scattered across the floor.
Music from the dancefloor reached in here too, although it wasn't as loud.
Truth be told, you wouldn't care if they stored onions in there. 
Your attention was fully on the man.
His mask went up again. He slammed the door behind you with a kick, hand already cupping your chin. Then he leaned down. The rough cotton of his mask rubbed at your cheek, followed by the silky flutter of his eyelashes.
You opened to him without hesitation, but this time the kiss was slower, more deliberate. His lips traced over yours, tasting you, discovering this fairly new sensation, nipping and sucking at your mouth with delighted curiosity. He's clearly had a lot of practice.
You tried to fall into this fickle rhythm, but impatience got the best of you. You bit at his lower lip.
A low noise reverberated in his throat – not quite a chuckle, almost a grunt. He turned you to face him, embracing you tighter than before and gave you his tongue. You nipped at the sensitive tip and that's when he lost it. Suddenly your mouth was full of him, claiming you voraciously, setting your blood on fire once again, and you heard your own breathless moan. Somehow your fingers traveled under the back of his mask and ran through cropped hair at his nape. It was butter-soft. He groaned with pleasure under your touch and that sound pierced right through you, making your insides soft and wanting. 
"Oh my god", you panted right into Ghost's mouth, holding at his nape. "Can we just screw already -"
"That's the plan." Could that rough voice of his get any deeper? Smile tapered the edges though, like a glimpse of gold in gravel. 
You weaved your wanting fingers into the longer part of his fade, sliding the mask further up.
He stilled your wrists. 
"Hey. Hey", he whispered cautiously into the bridge of your nose. "Don't even think about it."
"So...the mask stays on?... Like, all the way?" You inquired breathlessly between nipping at his mouth.
"Yes."
You looked this peculiar man in the eyes, now gleaming with fun, but dark and puzzling nonetheless. What was he hiding? Scars? Being a plain ol' butterface? Facial deformity of some kind?
You examined this thought thoroughly and found out that you don't care.
"All right", you said. "But tell me one thing. Are you Deadpool?"
He snorted softly. "I'm just Ghost."
"Ghost?.."
"Yeah?"
"Kiss me."
And kiss you he did.
Holy fuck, he was so good at this. Even when he let himself loose, abandoning all fuckboy moves in favour of feral lust. 
And maybe especially then.
Your tongues entwined in a blind dance, devoid of any rhythm. It was as un-romantic as humanly possible and you liked it that way. That frenzied, rushed approach of his told you that the man was truly starving, losing himself already in this newly acquired flavour, in your feminine warmth. His desperation set your blood ablaze. 
Because you were hungry too.
Ghost finally broke contact, but before leaning away he glided his tongue over your half-opened mouth. It was as if he just couldn't part with the taste.
"Hold on...fuck, you're something else." He sighed and put both of your hands around his wide neck.
"Hold tight, love", he cautioned as if you two were boarding a ride. 
When you did as told, he grabbed at your ass.
You yelped when his hands pressed into the soft flesh under the thin velvet of your dress. He effortlessly pulled you off the ground and lifted you up. 
"Wrap your legs around me", he asked.
You were not a dainty lady. When other guys attempted such stunts, you usually started to fear for their backs. But not for Ghost. This guy was born for heavy-duty activities. You recently watched him sweep the floor with a grown man.
He could take you. You suspected that he'd carry you out of a battlefield as well.
You pressed both thighs to his wide waist, crossing your booted legs over the small of his impressive back. You felt his firm core underneath you, covered with a healthy layer of soft flesh. That width of his didn't come just from muscles, and the discovery excited you. You liked your men strong, but not starving.
"That's right..." Ghost slid his large hands under your thighs, tearing another yelp out of you, followed by a stifled moan as he pressed your ass against the nearest wall. 
"What are you doing?" you breathed, holding on for dear life.
"Keepin' a promise." That low gritty voice reverberated in your bones.
Right, he had said this earlier.  I could pin you to a wall if you ask nicely.
The next moment all thoughts - the very ability to think - drifted away from you, for he glided his tongue across that space behind your ear. You moaned, your head falling back as if electricity had just pierced you. He chuckled into your collarbone and was already going lower, kissing, licking and sucking the sensitive skin of your throat. His tongue felt like a flame.
"Jesus Christ...", you breathed. "You're gonna fuck me like this?"
"If that's what you want".
"I dunno. It's kinda – aah! - uncomfortable..."
You tried really hard to rein your thoughts, but they fell apart while this impossible man held you against a wall.
It felt like being sandwiched between cold wood and a living furnace.
As if trying to make the thought process even harder, Ghost dug his fingers deeper into your buttcheeks, bunching up the fabric. It slid up your thighs, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from you.
"This fuckin' skirt is in the way", he murmured. After some more finagling, he got away with the velvet and stroked at the sheer pantyhose underneath. His long fingers nudged the lacy elastic, keeping your stay-ups in place.
"Stockings?" He asked, as if unable to believe his luck.
"Yep", you grinned at him.
" Fuckin' hell."
That came out low and guttural. You felt a sharp tingle within as if someone tugged at a string attached to your core.
That narrow strip of lace awakened something in him. He stepped away from the wall and threw you onto the nearest futon. You landed on your back with legs splayed out, but you didn't have time to collect yourself because he was already on top of you, pressing you to the ground with that huge torso, obscuring the dim light, filling up your whole world. He put his arms over your head and pressed them against the soft surface.
Then he leaned over you and dragged his mouth across your cleavage, biting on the skin on your throat, eliciting another moan, and then he let go. You moaned again, protesting this abandonment.
"I know, love", he murmured into your mouth. "But we need to get rid of your knickers."
A breathless, joyful noise tore out of you when he was pulling up your dress.
Ghost's hands pressed firmly into your buttcheeks, sliding the soft cotton down. Yeah, it was your everyday cotton. You preferred stockings over tights simply because they didn't gradually slide off you, creating that abysmal webbing situation in the crotch. You didn't leave the house tonight expecting to get lucky.
He threw your underwear away and held at your hips with more force.
"Listen, are you gonna...", you asked and got quiet mid-sentence. He was already putting your thighs on his shoulders.
His hot tongue glided along your fun parts, making you almost choke on air. He licked you up and down, parting your folds with the tip of his long tongue, tasting you, exploring you, driven by the shameless joy befitting a kid in a toy store. His hungry lips have found your swollen clit and sucked on it as if it was candy. When you answered with a prolonged, ragged moan, his mouth curled up against your pussy. He was smiling.
"You know what I dreamed of at night, sitting out there in some shitty safehouse in the desert?" he asked all of a sudden. 
You had no idea what was that about, but you didn't have the bandwidth to process it either, for he sucked at you again. Your synapses flared up with pleasure.
„Of what?...” you panted with your head thrown back, all tense and wanting.
He looked up, his stare mischievous.
"Of a girl in black stockings, but with no panties on".
"Hey...you got your wish."
Ghost tilted his head and pressed his face against your pussy. The tip of his long nose parted your pubic hair. He stilled, taking in your scent like a yearning animal.
"Fuuuck, love. Need to taste you."
He licked at you again, across the slit and slid his searing tongue inside of you. Your whole body yanked up, suddenly electric. He was exploring you shamelessly until he found that special point within your wet inside. He pressed his tongue to it, forcing a loud, ragged sob out of you. And then he pulled out.
Cool air licked at your moist, swollen, exposed pussy. The unfulfilled desire in your veins surged with fire. You felt like screaming in protest. Instead, all that came out of your mouth was an uneven, helpless, rather embarrassing moan.
He slowly licked his lips, savouring your taste.
"Need me inside you that bad, huh?" He asked, his voice thick and heady. He slurred over his consonants even more than usual.
"Yes!.." you cried out in frustration. "Will you spare the ceremonies and fuck me already?"
Ghost tilted his head and lowered you onto the futon. You could see a thought forming beneath the black cotton, under that surprisingly soft hair of his.
"You don't like being eaten out?"
"Nah, not really. It's usually boring..." you admitted. "Nothing ever comes out of it. It feels like a waste of time." 
Ghost leaned over you, his massive body obscuring all the view. His masculine scent tinted with sweat filled your nostrils, your mouth - and now probably your nether regions as well. You were keen with desire, wanting more of this. More of him.
"One day I'll show you how it feels when it's done right", he murmured.
"Mhm". You cared little about empty promises. 
You cradled his head, pulled his face close and kissed him deeply, relishing his heat and his musky taste, now mixed with yours. Your tongues intertwined again in this dance without fixed steps. For a while all that you heard were the sounds of kissing and your rushed breath. 
Your hips raised on their own, moving up to press against his. 
Ghost grunted in appreciation and ground onto you. You felt his tantalising hardness poking through the fabric. He rubbed onto your exposed sex and you lost yourself in the sensation. Dissolved into this big man tending to you as if you belonged to him. As if he was never about to let you go.
He sold this illusion so well.
"You got a condom?" you whispered into his mouth.
„Always. ”
He sat up, reached into the pocket of his jeans and produced a shiny metallic rectangular.
"Allow me", you offered, sitting up as well. He kneeled right in front of you, those powerful tights splayed. You sidled closer and met his gaze while opening his fly. Thankfully the zipper didn't put up a fight. He let you do it. Watched with his lips curled up when you palmed his hot bulge, clothed in plain black cotton.
"Holy fuck", you breathed, pulling his cock out of its confinement. It sprung out half hard, not as ginormous as you were imagining, but decidedly girthy. You sighed in appreciation, sliding your fingers up and down its pale, hefty shaft. It was enchantingly warm and as smooth as fine suede.
You got reminded how much you love dicks. Beautiful, supple creatures.
"It's so shapely. May I...?" You raised your eyes at Ghost again.
He nodded and repositioned himself on the futon to be more comfortable. Those legs of his seemed to just never end when he sat with them splayed. A smile glinted in his eyes.
You curled your fingers around his root, placing your other hand on his thigh. Then you leaned down, giddy from want. His pink tip felt smooth like porcelain – if porcelain could be alive and searing hot, that is. You noticed a shiny bead of precum and licked it away.
Ghost sighed when you wrapped your lips around him.
He tasted like all men tasted, but also uniquely like himself. You detected a day's worth of sweat, a note of fresh laundry, the faintest whiff of that woodsy-citrusy cologne of his - and salt, for he was already leaking into your mouth. 
Greedy boy.
You didn't try to perform any feats worthy of a porn star. You just sucked, licked and rubbed your tongue at that tender bundle of nerves right under his crown, enthralled with the sensation. He was so smooth and  robust and expanded by the second.
You've always preferred to give head than to be given.
He hardened in your diligent mouth. You could feel his large thigh tensing under your touch, too. You glanced up – he was watching, eyes wide, blinking slowly, those featherlike white lashes of his giving him an ethereal look.
He seemed entranced.
You smiled around his cock and sucked harder, giving it all you've got.
A long, ragged sigh tore out of him.
And that's when you pulled away. A string of saliva bridged his glistening tip and your open mouth, gleaming under the red lights.
He stared at you, dumbfounded.
"Not so fun when it's being done to you?" You gave him a shit-eating grin. " You're lucky that I'm really, really horny. Now give me that rubber."
Ghost snorted, handing you the silver packet. You made short work of it and then used your fingers once again, this time to roll the condom down nice and easy. It slid effortlessly over his stiff manhood.
He swallowed loudly somewhere above you.
"Hands-on approach."
"Yeah." You held at his nape, pulling him closer until you were breathing each other's air.
"Fuck me, Ghost", you asked.
You didn't have to tell him twice.
He leaned over you, forearms pressed into the futon on both sides of your head, positioning his hips just the right way. You watched his eyes, wide, dark and fixated while he pressed his tip to your entrance, already swollen, tender, open and begging. 
He didn't tease you anymore. Just rolled his hips into a slow, measured thrust.
"Oh riiight", you called out, your insides being parted by his hot, rigid, indomitable presence.
He wasn't crazy long, but he was wide. Thick.  Sizeable. It didn't outright hurt because he only went halfway in - but you sure felt stretched. You buckled your hips, trying to make him go deeper. 
"You okay?" he whispered hoarsely, visibly tense from trying to contain himself. "Fuck, love, you're so tight  - "
"Yeah!... Go for it. I can take you", you pleaded, your stare locked onto his.
His eyes were two starless skies when he plunged into you for real. You both cried out when that happened. 
"Oh god!"
„Oh fuck.”
He withdrew almost completely, but before you could raise your voice in protest – thrust all the way back into you, sliding in and out with more and more ease each time. Your insides softened rather quickly, letting him claim as much space as he needed. Letting him fill you with his delicious, delicious dick.
You needed this so badly.
But so did he. For a moment neither of you said a word. Music still played somewhere beyond on the club floor, muted and unimportant, while you two screwed on the dusty futon, creating your own melody. One consisting of ragged moans and rushed breathing, which quickly fell into a rhythm of its own.
The undone zipper of his jeans chafed painfully at your exposed underbelly, but it was a problem for future you. Right now you didn't have a care in the world.
Not when this enormous man took you, groaning through gritted teeth right into your ear. He licked it from time to time and then took it all into his mouth like a mango slice.
You sobbed out loud when he did this.
Ghost let out a breathless, rumbling laugh.
"Enjoyin' the ride?" He asked, sounding way more drunk than before.
"Yes. Go harder..."
Next thing you knew he grabbed at both of your wrists with his one hand and pinned them over your head. 
You cried out in sheer delight.
His eyes glinted. That unwavering stare of his saw right through your kinky soul.
"You like being manhandled, don't ya", he murmured, clearly enticed by his discovery. His other hand reached down, slid under your long-suffering dress and fondled crudely at your breast. His fingers found your nipple and squeezed it without mercy. You moaned again.
"You like to be made...helpless." Dark delight laced his words.
"Yes", you admitted, shameless and staring into the skeleton mask.
Ghost grinned at you like a wolf. "We're gonna have so much fun."
He amped the tempo. You started moaning nonstop while his cock viciously slammed into you, producing obscene wet sounds.
For you were now loose and dripping. He fit snugly into that warm space while your juices trickled out of you. All for him, the burly stranger. You were being fucked with vengeance, that little poach of flub on his stomach meeting yours with a rhythmic slap. He had you pinned down. There was nothing you could do but let him use your body the way he saw fit.
And that's just what he did. He satiated his gnawing hunger with your body, your warm presence, with your mouth, which he would claim one time after another, covering it with sloppy, fervent kisses. Sometimes he didn't even use his lips at all, just pressed the flat of his tongue to yours. It felt so raw, setting your body and your mind ablaze.
"Fuck...you feel so good." His voice right in your ear was a presence of his own, low and gritty and commanding. " Eyes open. Don't you fuckin' look away from me now."
You blinked. His semi-masked face materialised in your field of vision.
Right now you couldn't put a lucid thought together if your life depended on it.
"I love your cock", you confessed dumbly.
His stare got downright manic.
"You like being fucked hard? Like a fuckin' whore?"
Usually, such terms of endearment made you want to kick the idiot in the face, but not this time. Not with this idiot. 
Somewhere inside your soul sizzled a shameful flame of submission. You could be a  whore  for Ghost, and for Ghost only.
"Come on my cock, sweetheart", he ordered, voice low and dripping with authority. Maybe he heard your thoughts. "Come for me."
He reached between you two, pressed his thumb to your clit and started massaging it, going along with the punishing rhythm of his thrusts. You splayed your pantyhosed legs shamelessly wide, crying out from overwhelming pleasure.
"That's right", he rasped into your neck. "Come for me, ya slag."
"Yes", you wailed. "Yes, oh god – Ghost, don't stop – don't stop – don't stop -"
The sounds that came out of you after that weren't words. You dug your nails into the expanse of his firm back. 
Ghost didn't seem to mind one bit.
"Fuck yeah", he growled. "Dig harder. Fuckin' hell!"
A wave of hot, sticky sweetness was rising fast, drowning your wits, washing away all your senses except for touch. Except for this sensation of being taken, being possessed without mercy. You were full of cock. You were full to the brim like a jug of water, ready to overflow. The wave came crushing over your eyes, so you grabbed at him blindly and cried right into his mouth, cursed, and moaned. 
Or maybe it was a prayer. 
Maybe all of the above. 
He held you through it, anchored you while you felt weightless, pressing your chest flush against his - so hard and wide and still fully clothed.
When you came down from this high, he still held you for a while before letting go and falling flat on his back, long limbs splayed.
"You crazy thing", he muttered in delight, slurring the words.
"Ghost...", you breathed, lying flat like a pancake. That futon must've dented under you. Your throat was sore from all this screaming. " I have a question."
"Right now? T'better not be about maths..." 
You chuckled and turned to the side to look him in the face.
Fuck, those eyes,  you thought.  People shouldn't have eyes this big. Eyelids this heavy. I'm never recovering from this man.
"Can we do this again?"
He smiled at you, half-lidded, relaxed. Then he reached out and traced his fingers over your jawbone. Like back then in the beginning.
"M' not in a hurry tonight. You?"
~~to be continued~~
225 notes · View notes
sylasthegrim · 11 months
Text
Smutty Cregan Headcanons (2)
Cregan Stark x wife!reader
Tags: smut, breeding kink, pregnancy sex, non graphic mention of childbirth
Tumblr media
gif credit @dailytlk
❇ Cregan loves to see you round with his “pups” as he calls them. He loves watching your belly grow as the months pass, and your breasts become round and full of milk. When he walks past you he never fails to let his eyes look over your rounded form, proud of his achievement and the undeniable proof of his virility.
❇ He is proud that you are carrying his children, his legacy, and there is a primal part of him that loves to parade you around Winterfell, showing the other lords and ladies you are carrying his offspring. He wants to show his bannermen how beautiful you are, flushed with new life and alive with promises. You suspect that were he not so respectful of your modesty and of common decency, he would gladly fuck you in the middle of the courtyard, showing to his men how a wolf mounts his mate.
❇ Cregan might not allow anyone to see your couplings, but he does make sure everyone hears. He himself is not quiet as he takes you in any way your condition still allows —he groans and grunts, moans aloud and curses as you clench around him, in perfect rhythm with his unrelenting thrusts. He grips your hips hard in his broad hands, enjoying the way they fit in his rough palms, and makes sure to draw every kind of sound from your sweet mouth. He revels in every single last breathless moan that comes out of it, each a testimony to the pleasure he gives you. Your cunt is wet and tight around his cock, courtesy of the renewed flame brought on by this pregnancy.
❇ Cregan is like a wild wolf in that regard. There is a primal need inside of him, the need to satisfy his mate, to keep her warm and fed, and to keep her round with babes. He fucks you on your hands and knees, in the middle of your bed or in front of the fire on a pile of comfortable pelts and furs. His rough hands curling around your hips, wandering over your rounded belly, he loves to feel the evidence of what your renewed couplings bring, of his seed taking root deep inside you and making you bloom with new life.
❇ He treats you like a queen, showering you with gifts and all the wonders you could want: pelts to keep you warm, cakes made with citrus all the way from the Reach, comfortable dresses made in linen and wool from the Vale. Nothing is too grand for you, the woman who is bearing the children of the wolf. He looks like the alpha of a wolf pack as he walks across the main courtyard of Winterfell surrounded by your children. He keeps the boys and the girls at his side, training them all to become warriors and true northerners. 
❇ Cregan loves to worship your body like the temple it is. He devotes entire evenings to it, laying you out on a thick pelt in front of the fire, mapping out the traces left by your numerous pregnancies with his mouth. He trails his lips along the lines of stretched skin, kissing the white and purple marks as if they are ancient texts written by the gods themselves. When he makes love to you he caresses the softness left behind by growing and nursing many healthy children. He runs his hands on your heavy breasts, on the folds of your stomach, on the curve of your widened hips. 
❇ He is never afraid, not even in the face of blood. He stands the hours of tears, sweat and blood so he can remain at your side every time you give birth. Lords usually go out hunting with their men, only coming back at the announcement that a babe has been born, but Cregan refuses to perpetuate this tradition. Instead he stays at your side, holding your hand as you need it, keeping his silence when you need to focus. He treats the midwives with respect and provides them with everything you could need, so that they keep you and the babe safe.
❇ The true leader of a pack of wolves is the alpha female, and that is who you are to Cregan. 
Comment if you wish to be added to my Cregan headcanons taglist. My requests are open for headcanons.
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