#and also learn how to turn water into wine

[amamozarte]

Finally caved and made a dunmeshi oc… meet Iroha :D she’s a hedonist fun loving ogre girl who’s currently traveling the world and bar hopping. She loves alcohol and gambling (enough to get exiled from the Eastern Archipelago about it) and will socialize with just about anyone.

[peachylynnie]

sick

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: in which sylus sneaks into your apartment and finds you sick. yet, you're not resting. why?

contains: sylus x mc!reader (they're not dating but sylus is pining and reader is confused), reader is implied to be in college, slightly obsessive sylus, mentions of violence and sickness, suggestive themes, cussing, and fluff.

a/n: i got sick yesterday. what better way to rest than to write about sylus? do NOT copy or steal my work. sylus WOULD NOT endorse plagiarism :)

you don't want to admit it. you really don't. but you're sick. there's no denying that with how short of breath you are, how nauseous you feel, and the goddamn soreness in the back of your throat that didn't go away with the first sip of water.

"shit…" you mumble as you sluggishly move to empty the dishwasher as your roommate asked. it's bad enough that you were sick, but you were also stressed out of your mind. midterms have been kicking your ass this semester. big assignments have been piling up on your already heavy shoulders. in essence, this was a burnout month, and all that lack of sleep and unparalleled stress had finally caught up to you. in the form of a cold, that is.

"of all the times," you grumble as you struggle to stack the dishes in the cabinet. "why now…" indeed, this was a terrible time to get sick. how were you to complete all your tasks while feeling absolutely miserable? you glance at the microwave clock in desperation. 10:00 PM, it read. although you meant to sigh a breath of relief, you let out a painful cough. maybe you could finish an assignment or two by midnight. that way, you can focus on studying tomorrow, you thought to yourself.

you sniff as you return to the dishwasher to unload the rest of the dishes. as much as you were happy for your roommate leaving for the weekend to finally see her family, you couldn't help but feel resentful. why were you here struggling to do the dishes while she got to have fun? shaking your head at your bitter thoughts, you bend down, trying to grab the utensils from the dishwasher. keyword: trying.

the sudden pair of strong arms that wrapped around you prevented you from doing so. normally, you would've swiftly elbowed the person behind you and turned around to land a hard blow that would have them seeing stars. instead, you exhale shakily. you recognize the mysterious backhugger's scent. the scent of sweet wine and sharp citrus. sylus.

how the hell did he get in? you don’t remember giving him a spare key when you told him your address. you look behind you, angling your head to meet his garnet eyes. "i did not give you my address just so you can sneak in like this," you say, trying your best not to sound like you're dying.

unfortunately, the nasal tone of your voice does not go unnoticed by sylus. instead of offering his usual quips, sylus furrows his brows and unclasps his right arm from your waist. you try not to flinch at the chill of his slender fingers touching your forehead. he frowns. "you're sick."

you immediately avert your gaze. "i'm not sick," you mutter as you try to bend down once more to grab the stupid utensils from the dishwasher. sylus doesn't let go. this time, he spins you around with his left arm, making sure that he can see you properly.

"you're burning up, sweetie." sylus says as flips the hand on your forehead for good measure. "you're sick and you know it."

you roll your eyes, squirming to get out of his grip. you did not want sylus to see you like this. a sick, miserable mess incapable of doing something as simple as emptying the dishwasher. you had an image to uphold after all. being vulnerable with someone like him could mean getting hurt again. last time you were vulnerable with someone… well, let's say you learned your lesson.

weakly, you push at sylus' arm around your waist with your small hands. you try not to think about how minuscule they looked next to sylus' deliciously veiny forearms. great, you're sick, and your mind decides to lust after sylus' arms. you shiver at your thoughts and attempt to push sylus' grip away once more. normally, escaping sylus' hold would be a reasonable task for you. after all, your sparring sessions with him prepared you to get out of sticky situations. but you were sick and exhausted out of your mind. all you could manage was a feeble squirm.

sylus' gaze moves from his hand on your forehead to your eyes. your half-lidded baggy eyes. his frown deepens. you looked extremely fatigued. your face was noticeably pale, and your intake of breath was short. not to mention, sylus could see the slight wince of pain whenever you tried to swallow your saliva. sylus sighs as he removes his hand on your forehead and replaces it with his own. you were neglecting yourself again.

under normal circumstances, you would've shied away from sylus' physical advancements. his hand on the small of your back? an immediate flinch and glare, signaling him to stop. a tap on the crown of your head? a swift jerk of your neck and avoidance of eye contact. instead—again, you blame it on your exhaustion—you tiredly close your eyes, relishing in sylus' cool forehead against your heated one. no resistance to be shown.

you don't see it, but sylus' sharp eyes soften at the sight of you accepting his touch. even with the eye bags and ghastly skin, you looked ethereal. like an angel sent from heaven to save him from his own solitary hell. as much as he wants to savor this moment of you finally giving into his touch, sylus knows what he must do. you're unwell and unrested. you need to be in bed immediately.

"you should be in bed, sweetie." sylus murmurs as he pulls away from your forehead. you try not to sulk at the loss of the soothing chill of his skin. though, not without feeling conflicted because why you would even sulk about him? for god's sake, he was a criminal. he's taken countless lives. not to mention, he choked you upon meeting you, called you a disappointment, and tried to alter you after three straight days of relentless attempts at a forced resonation… just thinking about him drives you nuts and being driven nuts is the last thing you want right now.

"i'm fine, sylus." it was your turn to pull away, trying to put as much distance between you two as his firm grip around your waist would allow. "besides, nothing a little old tea can't fix."

with that, you turn to face the dishwasher and reach for the utensils for the umpteenth time of the night. sylus sighs and pinches his nose bridge with his free hand. as much as he admired your stubbornness, he could not help but resent it at times like these. times when you were in desperate need of a break. before you can grab the utensils, you feel yourself get lifted off the ground effortlessly.

sylus' arm on your waist had moved to your shoulder, and his other arm was hooked under your thighs. he had you in bridal style in less than a second. your eyes widen, realizing the sudden change in positions. "what are you doing?!" you cough painfully. "put me down!"

you do your best to escape sylus' new grip on you by kicking your legs and squirming uncontrollably, but it was hopeless. you were weakened due to your sickness, and sylus was determined to make sure you looked only at him instead of the goddamn dishwasher. one more look at it, and he swears he's gonna break it with his evol.

quickly and confidently, sylus exits the kitchen with you in his arms and arrives at what he guesses is your shared bedroom with your roommate. he tries not to get distracted by the fact that this is his first time in your room. god, the entire space smelled so much like you, he wanted to become one with it and watch you forever and ever. dismissing his intrusive thoughts, sylus gently places you down on your bed and starts to cover you in your blanket.

"wait, sylus," you start, trying to get up. "i have to empty the dishwasher. i have homework, too." sylus tuts as he shakes his head, his messy silver locks following suit. although he doesn't respond, sylus continues to spread out your blanket. you furrow your eyebrows at his strange behavior. "sylus…" you whine. you actually whined. something you never thought you would do, especially in front of sylus. you could feel his intense gaze prick at you like little needles. you avoid his gaze, hoping to hide your flustered state.

adorable. that's what you are. incredibly adorable to the point sylus wants to grab your chin and force you to look at him as he coaxes more and more of your pretty whines out of you.

trying to fight his indecent thoughts, sylus locks eyes with you, a firm yet pleading look on his face. "you need to rest, sweetie," he leans in to adjust your pillow. "you won't get anything done in this state." you try to protest again, but sylus beats you to it. "rest. i'll take care of everything."

well, fuck. how can you say no when sylus, in all of his gorgeous glory, is centimeters from your face, telling you that he will take care of everything and asking you to do the one thing you've been longing to do for a very long time? besides, you felt sleepy ever since sylus took you in his arms. just this once. just this once, you'll allow yourself to be vulnerable with him. so that you can rest, of course. totally not because sylus had a way of comforting you so sweetly and breaking your defensive walls so charmingly.

your labored breathing slows as you cautiously nod. "fine," you yawn. "the utensils go in the very left drawer of the island while the pots and pans go in the stove oven, and…" you can feel sleep beckoning for you as you continue to list instructions. sylus can't help the grin that appears on his face as he watches your cute blinks grow in intervals.

"noted, sweetie." he caresses a stray hair strand out of your face. "i'll make sure everything is back where they belong." like you to him. though, he doesn't say that part out loud. maybe another day. when you are no longer wary of him and are willing to acknowledge his very obvious affection for you. deep in his fantasy, sylus almost misses your cute snores. he chuckles, taking this chance to admire you now that you've fallen asleep.

you truly were an angel. the way your eyebrows furrowed here and there in your sleep. the way your plump lips parted at times. the way your button nose twitched sporadically. oh, sylus loved it all. he could watch you sleep forever. but he had a better task at hand: to take care of you. he assured you that he would take care of everything. and sylus is a man of his words. carefully to not wake you, sylus cups your face with his right hand. closing his eyes, he places a delicate kiss on your forehead.

"rest well, sweetie. i'll see you soon."

[ssa-dado]

Cat Equals Sign Of Integration

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, smut (implied) Summary: Aaron, ever the strategist, decides that a little wine might help soften the blow of figuring out with you how to tell the team you’re dating. A solid plan - except for one tiny flaw: wine makes him a whore. Warnings: +18, MINORS DNI Hotch is a touch starved whore, a few cuss words here and there, wine gets a bit into both of your heads. Word Count: 5k Dado's Corner: Did I hallucinate this while working on one of the many requests still on my to-do list, only to realize halfway through that it was completely derailing from the main plot - but too cute to abandon? Yes. Is this fun? You tell me (pretty please).

masterlist(s)

One of the many rules you and Aaron had in your relationship was that if you cooked for date night, he was the one doing the dishes.

His idea.

You had been opposed to it at first - not because you minded, of course. You were actually a huge fan of grown men handling household chores without whining like toddlers about how it might somehow demasculate their poor, fragile egos.

No, you were opposed because you didn’t want him doing it out of some sense of obligation.

It took you a while to accept that Aaron wasn’t doing this because he owed you - he was doing it because he wanted to.

Because that was just… Aaron.

Ever the caregiver, always looking for ways to make life easier for the people he loved. He could give you the world and still come to you like a wounded dog, begging for forgiveness because he thought he wasn’t enough.

It was infuriating - for all the deep psychological reasons you could analyze for hours, but also for a much pettier one: when it was his turn to cook, instead of letting you do the dishes like the so-called rule dictated, he just… did them anyway.

And thus, the noble Mr. Clean - brave warrior of dish duty, his arms submerged in treacherous, frothy depths - found himself utterly helpless against the sudden, most dreadful buzzing of his phone.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed!

Stranded, defenseless, bound by duty to his porcelain captors, he could do nothing but stand there, a tragic figure of great importance, cruelly denied his right to immediately bestow his undivided attention upon whatever poor soul dared summon him.

Oh, the agony! The injustice! How swiftly the mighty are humbled… by a sink full of bubbles.

That was because, logically, if even a single drop of water touched his phone, he would instantly lose all of the very important, highly classified FBI secrets stored inside. Of course, phones couldn't possibly be waterproof.

Ha, imagine?! What a concept.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked, still scrubbing at your wine glass like he was trying to erase its entire existence.

Which – by the way - was completely pointless, considering that in less than five minutes, he planned on refilling it with some more. A different wine, yes. But for God’s sake, you weren’t going to die if the last few drops of white mixed with the red.

…What a fussy man.

“Penelope,” you replied, admiring the view.

What a view, really. That man was all legs and no ass, and you were finally learning to appreciate it. 

“Ignore it,” he said, not even turning around.

Unfortunately for him - and for the HR department still blissfully unaware that their most serious, by-the-book boss was fraternizing with a subordinate - you were a profiler.

The U.S. government literally paid your bills every single month because you were exceptionally good at reading people.

And the way he answered? Yeah, that wasn’t the tone of a man casually dismissing an unimportant text. No, that was the tone of a man caught red-handed, scrambling for plausible deniability.

Embarrassed. Secretive. Suspicious. Frankly, if you didn’t already know what he was hiding, you’d be halfway to slapping cuffs on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time.

And so you read it – out loud.

Penelope Garcia, 7:56 PM:

hotch sir hotch bossman sir, i am DYING please tell me if you found out who her mystery boyfriend is i am suffering!!!!!!!! i know you know. i know it in my heart. if you can’t say it just give me a hint. a tiny one. a cryptic riddle. a blink. i will take anything.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

By her, of course, she meant you - because despite a few months of keeping your relationship under wraps, you still hadn’t gotten around to telling the team. Your colleagues. Your friends. Your unwanted, overly nosy adopted children.

That their elusive "mystery boyfriend" was, in fact, your mutual boss.

You were going to tell them. Eventually.

Didn’t know when. But you would.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were surrounded by some of the best profilers in the country, trained to pick up on the slightest behavioral shift.

It’s not like the second two incredibly touch-starved people like you and Aaron started walking around with even a fraction of happiness, that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions.

…Except, apparently, it hadn’t.

Because somehow, the team had only managed to land on half the conclusion: you were seeing someone.

But Aaron? Not even a blip on their radar.

It was almost impressive, really. The answer was so obvious that they had discarded it entirely, still wandering around in the dark, trying to piece together a puzzle that was sitting right in front of their faces.

Just like Penelope was doing now, so desperate for some reason that she was straight-up asking him outright - when not that long ago, she still thought twice before even making a dirty joke in his presence.

And so, you got up, walked over to Aaron, and held the phone directly under his nose. “What does this mean?”

He squinted at the screen, then at you. “Oh, honey, I don’t know. She always sends me that - I don’t understand what exactly equals the sign of integration”.

…What?

You were suddenly just as confused as he was.

He blinked at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in that utterly sincere, slightly bewildered way of his. “That sign before it,” he said, completely lost. “It looks Chinese. Thought you knew Chinese, sweetheart.”

…What?

Oh, for the love of God.

If this man hadn’t already seen the absolute worst horrors the world had to offer, you would fight for his innocence with your nails, your teeth, and - if absolutely necessary - one of the worst shooting records ever logged in the Bureau.

You looked at the screen again.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

Oh.

Oh, that’s what had confused him.

“Aaron,” you said gently, doing your absolute best not to kiss him right then and there, “that is a cat.”

You sighed, then pointed at the message again. “By the way, the ‘sign’ in the middle is in Korean, not Chinese.”

He looked at the screen again - then back at you. “…Cat equals sign of integration?”

“No, honey,” you said, barely suppressing your smile, tapping the little text emoji. “It’s just a cat.”

He studied it for another second. “Oh.”

There. That did it. You gave in. Leaned in and pressed a loud smooch to his cheek.

At least your dignity was still intact - he had no idea why you’d done it, just assumed it was one of those spontaneous bursts of affection that came with being hopelessly in love.

Honeymoon phase truly did work wonders.

“Do you think I can have the cat too?” he asked, grabbing the bottle of red and a corkscrew.

That was a trap.

Because Aaron Hotchner still signed every single text he sent.

And while it wasn’t an issue when he was sending something standard -

Lawyer, 6:17 PM:

They found a new body, we’re gathering at the precinct in 30.

A.H.

- it became a lot more unsettling when he sent the filthiest, most depraved things you’d ever read, only to end them with that stiff little A.H. like he was dictating official Bureau correspondence.

Lawyer, 11:51 PM:

Sweetheart, if only these stupid walls weren’t so thin, I’d have you right here with me, bent over, face pressed against this mattress, making you come so many times you’d forget your own name. At least three. Maybe four, if I’m feeling generous.

A.H.

So now, standing in his kitchen, watching him pour wine like he hadn’t just permanently scarred you with his painfully bureaucratic approach to sexting, you knew that if you admitted he could simply copy-paste that ‘cat equals integration sign,’ it would only be a matter of time before you were subjected to something truly traumatizing, like -

Lawyer, very-late-office-hour PM:

It’s your fault I’m getting distracted with the paperwork, because I’m still thinking about how good you tasted last night while sitting on my face. God, I can still feel your thighs shaking, you were so sweet for me, honey, so fucking perfect.

P.S. How many reports do you still have left? Because I’ve been thinking about having you on my tongue again before the night is over. I think I’ve got about an hour or so left but then I’m all yours.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

That man could not be trusted with the cat.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades as your fingers brushed over his back. “I don’t think you can get it. She must have programmed it herself into her phone.”

You truly hoped you were as convincing as he was clueless about text etiquette.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, both of your wine glasses in hand as he made his way to the couch. “I would have loved to send you the cat.”

…Of course he would. Smug ass.

But as the words left his mouth, something shifted in him - just barely. A pause that didn’t usually belong there... weird.

Still, you followed, watching as he settled in, patting the cushion beside him with a half-smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”

A misleading gesture, considering his legs were very much spread - a much clearer invitation. At least, that’s how you chose to interpret it.

Because you could swear - those legs spoke to you. Called to you. So you slid right into your rightful seat - his lap.

…Would have been rude not to answer.

“Back to Garcia,” he said, resting a hand on your thigh as he handed you your painstakingly polished wine glass - so clean, so immaculately spotless, that the red wine inside looked redder than red. A real masterpiece, Mr. Clean. “She doesn’t seem to be letting up about finding out who you’re dating… This is the fourth message this week.”

You raised a brow, taking a sip of your wine. “Well, she’s second only to you when it comes to being nosy about gossip.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head, that same small half-smile back on his lips.

That particular smile.

The one he used when he was trying to convince someone he was fine when, in reality, he was not - when he was trying to reassure everyone else while simultaneously refusing to admit, even to himself, that something was eating him alive.

Oh, now you knew what this was about.

He had definitely practiced this conversation in his head - refined it down to the perfect phrasing. Measured. Logical. Reassuring.

A version so well-rehearsed, so carefully constructed, that he’d convinced himself first before trying to convince you - that this didn’t scare him.

That this was just another rational step forward.

That it was fine.

Because if he could make it sound easy, maybe it would be.

Maybe it would give you something solid to lean on, because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were standing on shaky ground with someone just as fractured as he was.

But in the end, even the best-laid words couldn’t withstand the weight of his emotions - whether he liked it or not, even rocks are meant to erode.

“I think it’s time we come clean to the team,” he admitted, completely veering off-script - though, of course, he still made sure to soften the blow with a kiss to your temple.

Not that it made much difference. You both knew this moment was inevitable, but somehow, you’d managed to delude yourselves into thinking that if you just kept putting it off, the perfect time would miraculously appear.

At first, you’d delayed it until things were official.

Then, because you needed to be sure this could work in the long run.

Then, because you wanted time to just enjoy each other.

Truthfully? If it were entirely up to the two of you, you’d probably keep postponing it indefinitely - at least until the day you were both retired, far away from any fraternization rules or painfully awkward team dynamics.

Unless, of course, your eyes had been deceiving you all along, or life decided to be cruel and rip this happiness away from you before you ever even got the chance. All you could do was hope not.

Aaron sighed, watching you carefully. “So, how do you want to do this?”

At least he could take comfort in the fact that his very specific plan of having wine while discussing this was still intact - especially since the very large sip you took the second he asked hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He huffed a laugh.

Yeah.

This was going to be fun.

“Are we sure we have to?” You groaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s the only way to keep them from getting the satisfaction of figuring it out first and do this our way…”

It was his turn to take a long sip now… he surely wasn’t thrilled about the lack of an actual game plan.

“…Still need to figure out what exactly we mean by ‘our way,’” he admitted. “But, you know… that’s what these are for.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, then against yours, clearly implying that your very skilled, highly trained profiler brains would surely work this out.

You, however, were placing your bets on your problem-solving skills drastically improving after a few more glasses of wine, because right now?

“We are so fucked,” you commented.

Aaron clinked his glass against yours, deadpan. “Completely.”

You both took long, slow sips of wine like it might somehow provide divine intervention.

It didn’t. You were indeed left pretty much alone in this.

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you definitely have the face of someone who already has a plan...” You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “...a very handsome face.”

Cheesy. But deserved.

Aaron chuckled. “I believe…” He kissed you on the cheek – twice - before setting his own glass down too. “…We should tell them directly. Get ahead of it. Lay it out as matter-of-factly as possible.”

“Matter-of-factly?”

He nodded, all serious, like he hadn’t just suggested the worst possible approach.

“Sweetheart…” You pinched his cheek, making him scrunch his nose, hoping – more like praying - that it would snap him out of whatever fantasy land of logic, reason, and good intentions he was apparently living in.

“If we tell them directly, Penelope will throw an actual partypersonally design matching t-shirts, and have the entire team wear them.” You paused, leveling him with a look. “And you know it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know.”

“Emily and Derek will immediately start making jokes like two middle schoolers who just learned what sex is and will not let us breathe.”

“I know.”

“JJ will be quiet but then ask all of a sudden, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which will restart the chaos all over again.”

“I know.”

You turned to face him, deadly serious. “Spencer-”

“-Will hit us with a full statistical analysis of workplace relationships,” Aaron finished, exhaling sharply, already bracing himself.

Because there was only one team member left to account for - the worst of them all.

“And… oh God… Dave…”

And with that horrifying realization, he did the only logical thing a man in his position could do - he face-planted directly into your chest with a dramatic, muffled groan of pure defeat.

You blinked down at him, amused. “Honey…”

Why was he even so touch starved like that?

“All I ask,” came his muffled voice, still very much nestled between your breasts, “is five minutes of peace.”

You snorted. “You do realize this isn’t exactly discouraging me from making fun of you, right?”

He sighed again. “You do realize that if you keep laughing, you’re just shoving them further into my face?”

…Damn him and his irritating ability to state the obvious.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly combing through his short spikes of hair. “…So we’re back to square one.”

Aaron exhaled, still very much face-first in his chosen safe haven. “Unfortunately.”

You hummed, “Okay, hypothetically, if we just… never tell them, how long do you think we could get away with it?”

That was so absurd that it actually made him lift his head. He blinked at you, utterly offended by the suggestion.

“I am not spending the next decade pretending I don’t stare at your ass every time you walk away.”

…Alright. That was definitely the wine talking.

In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Wine makes people say dumb shit: the truth.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Hotchner.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t pretend you’re above it, because I catch you every time you drift off during briefings just to stare right at-”

“Alright, alright,” you cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could fully call you out... he was not happy about it. “We’re both shameless…"

You needed an exit strategy. Fast.

You reached for his wine glass over the coffee table. “Well, at least the bright side of telling them is that we won’t have to schedule our coffee breaks in advance anymore and pretend to look surprised when we see each other.”

And all of that was just for one single moment.

The fleeting brush of fingertips as you handed him the cup you always poured for him.

The way his hand was always warmer than yours, despite the fact that you were the one holding the scalding mug, as if basic thermodynamics simply did not apply to Aaron Hotchner.

And if it was one of those days, sometimes, there’d be a little extra something.

A longer touch.

Eye contact that lingered just a second too long.

A slow sip from his cup while still holding your gaze, and suddenly, it felt indecent - like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in broad daylight, let alone in a federal building.

And now - here, in the comfort of his apartment, with nothing and no one to stop you - he reached for the wine glass you were offering, except… he wasn’t actually reaching for the glass.

He was just holding your hand.

Aaron chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles. “I think we’re holding onto this touch just a little too long,” he murmured, nuzzling into you, his breath warm against your ear. “Might start looking suspicious.”

Didn’t he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, also some-” you started, or at least tried to, because as if everything else wasn’t enough, now he was kissing just behind your ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, warm, and slow, and wet and… God…

Okay. Okay.

Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was the fact that you were always kind of a little bit obsessed with him.

Either way, the result was the same: you really, really wanted him right now.

You sighed, tilting your head to grant him a little more access - but not too much, or you might actually end up using the full length of his three-seater couch instead of stubbornly remaining curled up in the same cramped two-foot space you’d unofficially claimed as your own. Ergo - going horizontal with him instead of just being seated on his lap.

“I thought we were having a serious discussion,” you murmured, though the breathy edge to your voice wasn’t exactly helping your case.

Aaron hummed in response, slowly dragging his lips from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw, pressing a kiss at the hinge. “We are.” Another kiss. “What were you starting to say, sweetheart?”

And another one.

You tried to think. Really, you did.

But it was getting increasingly difficult with his mouth still very much on your skin, moving towards places that were making it exponentially harder to form coherent thoughts.

You would’ve made a mental note to never wear anything that resembled a tank top around him again, if only you had the actual brain capacity to form any notes right now.

“Aaron-”

Aaron smirked against your skin. “You were saying?”

…Blank. Absolutely blank.

Your brain stalled for a solid three seconds before mercifully rebooting.

“I-” You licked your lips, cleared your throat. “Penelope.”

That, thankfully, was enough of a keyword to get him to back off - though, the second he did, you already desperately missed the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

He tilted his head, “Penelope?”

You swallowed. “She’s… gonna be beaming.”

Aaron blinked at you. “Beaming.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, because God, he was too cute when he was confused like this. “Her and Kevin have been desperate for another couple to go out with. Ever since JJ and Will stopped leaving the house because they’re too busy baby-proofing every square inch of their lives.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed slightly. “And by ‘go out with,’ you mean double dates.”

You hummed, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mmm. Yeah. Double dates.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely not.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wait, what?”

His face was resolute. “I’m not doing double dates.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but why?”

And that’s how you learned that if there was one thing your boyfriend hated - more than messy paperwork, more than delayed flights, more than the Bureau’s budgeting meetings - it was double dates.

Not specifically with Penelope and Kevin. God, no. He was practically the puppet master of their relationship in the first place. Just… double dates in general.

“They’re impractical,” he said.

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

Aaron sighed. “They are a waste of time. You sit there, and for the first fifteen minutes, it’s fine. The usual small talk, polite conversation…”

You nodded, barely biting back a grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Honestly, this just sounded like some classic Aaron Hotchner being the most adorable introvert to ever exist.

He shot you a look, deadly serious. “It’s a trap.” You nearly cooed. Adorable. “Because at some point, you end up talking one-on-one with someone from the other couple. And right when the conversation is actually getting interesting-”

He suddenly paused.

His hand started at your shoulder, innocent enough - until it wasn’t, until it drifted lower, fingertips skimming down until they found your thigh, before sliding inward, squeezing your soft flesh there.

“See?” Aaron murmured, voice deceptively casual. “It starts off innocently. A hand on the shoulder…”He angled his fingers just a notch further up your upper thigh. “…Then the thigh. Then-”

He leaned in, kissing you just at the corner of your mouth.

"A little kiss here," he murmured, lips barely brushing your skin.

Then another - softer, lingering just at the very edge of your lips.

"A little peck there."

Okay.

Ahem.

For a man who hated double dates, he was making a very strong case for them.

This was clearly foreplay.

Had to be foreplay.

You chose to interpret it as foreplay.

So, naturally, just as you were about to pull him in properly - to finally taste the wine on his lips – he pulled back.

Mixed signals whore.

“And then,” he continued, and you swore his voice had gotten even lower - sluttier, if you were being honest - "it escalates.”

...Wine-induced yapper. "Because one couple decides a little peck isn’t enough, so they turn and start devouring each other’s faces… in public.”

The wine that was in your system, instead, suggested you should have him biblically, right here, right now, on his couch.

“Care to demonstrate this part too?” You licked your lips, tilting your head.

Aaron sighed “Honey.” You knew you were in trouble the moment he smirked. “You’re demonstrating my point…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You want more.” Aaron tutted, shaking his head, feigning disappointment. “Of course you want more. A chaste kiss isn’t enough. How could it be, sweetheart?”

Hell yes you wanted more.

Badly.

You might have even nodded without meaning to.

“But imagine if this was happening in public. In front of two other people. What about them?” he murmured, tilting his head, voice dropping into something dark, silky, dangerous. “In front of two other people.”

You swallowed, very much not thinking about them right now.

“Because at that point, they only have two choices: they either sit there - third-wheeling, watching - or…” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide over your bare waist, gripping, pulling you that much closer. "… they start doing it too."

Your breath hitched. “Aaron-”

"With just a kiss, it creates an environment," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear, "where both couples get competitive. Where they start copying each other - but making it more…"

He dragged his nose along the curve of your jaw, the ghost of his lips tracing just behind it. "Passionate."

A teeth-grazing kiss against your pulse.

A slow drag of his lips down the column of your throat, before he made his way back up, tilting your chin up with his fingers just so, forcing you to look at him.

And God, that look.

"More tongue," he continued, letting you see it first - his own darting out, wetting his lips just before he brushed them over yours.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

“More biting.” Aaron caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to confirm what you already knew -

He tasted like red wine.

Rich. Dark. Addictive.

And so did you.

“More touching.” His hand drifted, fingertips just skimming over your ribs, teasing along the underside of your breast - so close, so close, before he let it trail lower again, just as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"More sounds."

You barely bit back the breathy, desperate little moan clawing its way up your throat because -

Aaron shoved you off his lap.

In one fluid motion, he shifted, pressing you back into the couch, caging you in beneath him, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

His knee slotted between your thighs, pressing up just slightly - just enough to make you gasp, make your hips twitch without thinking.

You were pretty sure now that this was, in fact, foreplay.

“At that point,” he murmured, lowering himself, pressing his body against yours, pinning you down with nothing but his weight, “if you’re already getting ideas…”

Aaron rolled his hips against you, his knee shifting just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. “…it’s better off just staying home. Because at least then,” he whispered, “we can do this.”

And then he kissed you. Properly.

Deep and hungry, pressing you down into the cushions until you moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer as one of his hands slipped under your shirt.

“You-” you swallowed, trying to find words, but he stole them from you, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You expect me to believe this is why you hate double dates?”

“I expect you to understand,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, “that if I ever go on one…” he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “…I’ll be thinking about this the entire time.”

Then - click.

The sound of the button of your pants being undone, followed shortly by the hiss of your zipper. You felt the warmth of his fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, resting over your hip bone.

Well, fuck.

“You’ll be sitting across from me,” he continued, voice so unfairly composed, so infuriatingly smooth, “pretending to listen to whatever they’re taking about.”

He tilted his head, kissing along your collarbone, then much lower. You made a mental note to always wear anything resembling a tank top in his presence from now on.

“And the entire time…” his fingers dipped just slightly beneath the elastic of your underwear.

You shuddered. “Aaron.”

He hummed, pleased - so deeply pleased - before finally sliding lower, his fingers finally brushing right where you needed him most.

You whimpered.

“I’ll be remembering,” he murmured, “exactly how you sound right now.”

Your back arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his fingers moved.

“And how you look,” he added, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, “when you fall apart for me.”

Your breath hitched-

And then.

Then-

He stopped.

Just - stopped.

His hands left you completely as he leaned back, settling onto his knees above you, looking far too pleased with himself.

You gaped at him, betrayed. “Are you kidding me?”

Aaron just smirked, gaze flicking over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uneven breathing, the way your body was still desperately aching for him.

“See?” he shrugged, voice so damn smug. “This is why I hate double dates.”

How funny would it be if these ended up being his last words?

You huffed, adjusting yourself on the couch, crossing your arms like you weren’t still ridiculously turned on and very annoyed about it. “Alright, you know what? Fine. No need to suffer through a double date if we just… conveniently wait to tell the team about us until after JJ and Will start going back out with Penelope and Kevin.”

Aaron smirked.

At least you’d both come to an agreement - the exact same procrastination tactic you’d been using, just with a new and improved excuse attached.

“…Smart girl.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathing heavily, still so deeply unsatisfied, as Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, then stood, stretching his arms.

“I’ll clean the wine glasses,” he mused, already heading toward the kitchen. “And then I’ll be back to you.”

You stared at him.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder, smirking.

You huffed, sarcastic, “glad we could work this out.”

You were not glad. Not at all. Especially because not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a text.

From him.

From Mr. Clean himself, who was currently just a couple rooms away from you.

Lawyer, 8:43 PM:

Sweetheart, I hope you're ready, because I’m going to spread you out on that couch and fuck you so deep, you’ll still feel me when you sit at your desk tomorrow.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

"Garcia just told me how to get the cat," came his voice from the kitchen - so damn smug you could hear the smirk in it, followed the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

Before you could turn, before you could say anything, he was there - leaning in from behind the couch, arms sliding around you, caging you in, whispering into your ear -

"It was just a simple copy-paste."

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe2

[itsrlymine]

i apologize for the really long ask but i really wanted to share my thoughts and i would make my own loa blog but i dont have it in me to deal with anons so i fear i will dump them all on you 😔 first off i want to say THANKKKK YOUUUUUU you literally changed my manifestation journey i used to be really into manifestation back in 2021/2022 and i was trying to manifest my dream face but it never happened no matter how much i affirmed or listened to subs or anything so i was just like fuck it this manifesting stuff isnt real imma just move on with my life and thats how i went about my life until you popped up on my dashboard a month ago and usually i would click not interested on any loa content but i was like you know what lemme give this stuff a chance again bc i did try the non manifesting route and it didnt work out bc when i tell you my life went DOWNHILL i used to protect myself from negative experiences by having the belief that i was simply the exception to terrible stuff but the moment i left the loa behind and was like no thats unrealistic anything can happen well guess what!! so many bad stuff happened in my life the last 2 years its genuinely crazy. so i was like lemme try this again and i went through your blog and really tried to materialize everything you were saying and read it with the attitude that what you are saying IS real instead of the doubting attitude i had towards loa advice/info back in 2022 and things really shifted for me.

so the first thing i learned is that MANIFESTATION IS REAL and more importantly NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE what i went through these past two years was proof to me that manifestation is real because once i adopted that negative mindset and dropped any positive beliefs i had my life became a nightmare and all those terrible thoughts manifested right before my eyes. for example i used to believe that i always looked pretty no matter what, this was just something part of my belief system but when i abandoned the law and everything i told myself no thats crazy i cant mAniFeSt looking pretty its unrealistic if im not pretty then im just not and bro when i tell you i was at my lowest appearance wise I WAS AT MY LOWESSTT my classmates at school would come up to me and tell me i looked so different and so dull even my mom would say the same stuff to me and tell me i changed i also noticed a difference when i looked in the mirror. the reason why i felt like manifestation wasnt real was because it just seemed really crazy to me, i felt like things materializing out of nowhere and appearances changing drastically was just like something fantastical and just not possible here in the real world. well i am here to tell you that is NAWT THE CASE! the world is not logical and im gonna tell you why. most of us here have grew up religious, and whats more illogical than religion? there are so many stories in the bible where illogical stuff happen like youre telling me some guy can turn water into wine? doesnt that sound like something out of a fantasy movie? but it happened, right? you believe in the bible so you believe in all the stuff that happened in it even the magical stuff. and another thing with growing up religious is that we always hear stories about miracles where for example a neighbor who was really sick suddenly woke up completely healthy. and we also were taught that we can ask god for anything and that god can make anything happen. i remember when my dad would teach me about religion he would say that god can make the grass is purple if he wanted to. it isnt just in religion but also in another spiritual communities and stuff they also have their own stories where things that dont really make sense logically happen. this goes to show that the world and humanity were never logical and that illogical things can happen, they've been happening since the dawn of time. people just came up with their own explanations. so get that thought that you cant change your entire face because its too crazy out of your head because it isn't. anything is possible. we literally live on a rock and we somehow move and speak and talk and somehow atoms exist so pls get with the program aint nothing logical in this life and the sooner you come to terms with that the better. nothing is too crazy because existence itself is crazy.

the second thing i learned was that MANIFESTATION IS NOT A PROCESS. i used to hear this all the time back in 2022 and it never made sense to me i was always like what tf are yall talking about???? my understanding was that manifestation is the act of trying to get something, but i was so so wrong. everything changed for me when i started approaching manifestation with the attitude that i was reminding myself of what i have, not trying to get what i want. basically stop thinking of manifestation as manifestation if ykwim. to really understand this im gonna have to talk about the whole "decide that you have your desire > affirm that you have it > keep presisting" thing and break it down.

so what do people mean when they tell you to decide that you have your desire? does it mean saying out loud "i have __" and then a few seconds going "alright wheres my ___?" no. it means you in your mind decide that its ALREADY YOURS and that you ALREADY GOT IT. i dont know how to word this any differently because its so simple its literally in the words. im gonna try an example. im assuming that youre reading this with your eyes so you have eyes. are you trying to 'manifest' having eyes? when you say "i have eyes" are you using an affirmation to get eyes? is having eyes a desire youre trying to 'manifest'? no because you literally already have eyes bro how else are you reading this with your bootyhole??? so when you say "i have eyes" you arent manifesting via affirming, youre just saying it to remind yourself because well you have eyes. you arent trying to manifest eyes because you already have them. thats what it means to decide that your desire is yours. it means to stop treating what is yours as a desire because its literally yours. stop seeing it as something youre trying to manifest because you already have it, wtf do you need to manifest for? do you get it? don't think of doing this as you tricking your mind into thinking you have your desires because AGAINN you arent tricking anything you literally already have it. when you say "i have eyes" and you have eyes are you trying to trick gour brain? no. that sounds silly. im sorry that this is so repetitive but its literally that simple idk what everyone else is doing complicating the most simple thing ever.

and now, what do people mean by affirm that you have it? does that mean using affirmations to manifest your 'desire'? (i put desire in quotations bc you already have it since you decided you do) no. it simply means reminding yourself that you do. ill go back to the eyes example. if you were to say "i have eyes" right now would you understand that as some woo woo manifestation affirmation technique? no because you already have eyes. what youre doing is simply stating a fact and reminding yourself of it for funsies. you arent trying to manifest anything because you already have it. affirming doesn't mean tricking your brain or your subconscious that you have your desire or whatever, its just you reminding yourself.

and finally, what does it mean to persist? does that mean fighting for your life trying to convince yourself that you have your desire? no. because you already have it. it simply means that everytime you ask yourself "oh why isnt this showing up in my 3d?" you tell yourself "bro what tf are you on about were not manifesting anything we already have it are you crazy?" that's all. going back to the eyes example, you know you have eyes, so if someone came up to you rn and was like "hey did your eyes come in yet?" you'd probably think they hit their head or something because your eyes are literally right there its how youre seeing their dumbass. that's the same attitude you have to have towards your 'desires'. stop thinking of your 'desires' as desires, stop thinking youre trying to manifest anything, stop thinking you have to wait for anything to show up in the 3d or that the 3d is lagging behind or whatever, stop seeing manifestation as manifestation, stop imagining yourself sending in success stories asks when you get your desires, basically just stop dawg. you already have it. "dont contradict yourself" (although again you arent contradicting anything bc you already have it im just running out of ways to simply something thats already so simple). thats what it means to manifest instantly.

anyways thats all i wanted to say. im so sorry for the horrendously long ask i would make it even longer by talking about my success now but i think you would beat my ass if i did. bye bye love u

!!!!! you ate this whole thing up. y'all better come read this.

[athenaeum-of-the-herald]

Libations

As a Hellenic polytheist, one of our most important duties to our gods would be to give libations. Libations are liquid offerings to our gods, not only in recognition of them and their importance but as an invitation into our lives for them.

When it comes to giving libations, it can be difficult for those of us practicing and worshipping in secret. So in this post I'll go over typical libations and how they're given, and then some methods I believe would be helpful for those that can't give openly! Please keep in mind that the suggested methods (for those practicing in secret) come from someone who is still navigating and learning her own religion. As always, do your own research where needed and do methods that make you most comfortable in your practices.

Typical Libations

Wine (typically red)

Symbolic of the divine ether, and Zeus's influence on the soul. Additionally, dark red wine represents the blood of Dionysus/Zagreus. We drink his blood as reflectance for his sacrifice by the titans and the eating of his flesh. It represents his metamorphosis, and in turn, our own cycle of birth.

Milk

Representative of Hera and Ira, whose breast milk formed the galaxies and cosmos. Milk also represents the earth.

Honey

Honey is golden which is incredibly symbolic of the gods, particularly their ichor (the blood of the gods). Honey is also a powerful preservative representing the immortality of the gods.

Fine oil (typically olive)

Oil historically symbolizes life, prosperity, and the divine spirit.

Milk and honey together are also a considerable libations but is particularly good for death related gods and the honoring of the dead. Milk and honey libations for them should NOT be consumed.

Giving Libations

To give libations, you would first pick up the offering bowl full of whatever you are giving with your right hand, then hold it with both and recite a dedication. The dedication itself is up to you but the example I saw is as follows:

"We dedicate this libation to khrismôdós Apóllôn and aithǽrios Diónysos and to all the happy, deathless Gods!"

Libations can be made to a singular god or multiple at once. Just ensure you have enough for them equally. Dedications can also be to a singular god or you can name the ones you are dedicating to.

Once you've made your dedication, you'll transfer the bowl to your left hand and pour your offering on the ground or into whatever reservoir you have dedicated to it on your altar. This is your libation, and the offering now belongs to them. Once you've made your libations, you may sip from the remaining contents of the bowl as communion. Before doing so, you may recite a prayer. Here is an example:

"We drink the blood of Diónysos! May the Aithír of Zefs intoxicate our souls and transform us!"

Please be aware that you should NOT drink libations to the dead or to death gods.

When sipping from the remainder of your libations, do NOT sip from the part where you poured. You should drink from the opposite end of the bowl.

Libations in Secret

When you're practicing in secret, this method of libations can be incredibly difficult. So with that, here are a few ways that I think could be helpful!

Can't access or drink wine/milk/honey? Substitute them for water or better yet, flavored juices!

Pomegranate juice can make a good libation for Underworld gods and goddesses, apple juice would be good for Zeus, etc. Research your deity's associations and try working with them. Water is also life-giving and integral to life.

Can't pour your libations outside or in a dedicated offering bowl? Use cups!

Pour your libations directly from the bottle to a cup and sit it on a shelf or desk or wherever you've dedicated to your god. You can recite your prayers and dedications in your head as well.

Worried about wasting drinks? Offer a smaller amount!

Typically what you give should be more than you keep, but your gods understand your struggles and would be understanding of your intentions. Offer a small amount of your drink, honey, etc and inform them of your reasonings and intentions. Your gods love you, they'll be happy with your efforts regardless.

Can't do your libations during the day? Do them at night!

Give your libations while everyone is asleep. You can even hide it under your bed or behind something to keep it for the time you want. (Please be careful of doing this with honey and be mindful of possible insects, pets, pests, spills, etc)

A minor? Do your libations at school!

You can do your libations while at school by making them during a PE class, during lunch, or any period of time where you can take a moment to do so! (I'm not condoning using your bathroom breaks to sneak off and do them, I'm just saying you definitely could do that)

Regardless of how you do your libations and with what, your practice is your own as is your relationship with your god(s). Do what feels right for you ♡

[abusivegymrat]

Pollyanna.

You’re the leading member of a paramilitary organization that’s been a pain in their ass for quite a while now, suspected of various war crimes but the clues somehow never led to you. It frustrated them to no end.

When they finally got a hold of you, Laswell insisted (begged) them to keep you the fuck alive, while Ghost would’ve just preferred to put a bullet through your skull and Price would prefer tearing you with a crowbar after you scratched Soap’s arm with your nails fighting for your life.

You’re now on house arrest, though of course, not in yours. Gaz just wanted to put you in a moldy cramped studio apartment but Laswell was remorseful enough to give you some space to walk around for reasons the guys have yet to understand. Nothing massive or luxurious, just a normal family apartment meant for probably a few more people than you. The walls of the two children’s rooms were broken down, leaving a lot of empty space. Larger halls, abrupt corners, sharp turns that had you hitting your head around like a damn moron on your first two days here.

You like it here, your kitchen is a big American one in one big room with your living room, your bedroom has a king sized bed and a dressing room, your bathroom is also big enough and clean. That part was thanks to you, though.

You don’t seem to mind how there are cameras on every corner of your place, how every edge is bugged, obvious or not. How 4 men take turns watching you over the cameras 24/7. You’re comfortable, maybe too comfortable.

You don’t abstain from singing in the shower, refrain from dancing around your kitchen with music blasting in your headphones, sometimes walking around naked as you looked for what PJ set to wear for the night. You dress pretty, even though you know you won’t go out. Do your makeup just to feel good. Not for them either, for you. Living for yourself.

You’re not afraid of trying new recipes and making a mess of the kitchen: you’ll clean it later, nothing is worth more than the fun you’re having right now.

They’ve learned a lot about you in the past few months too, how you always have your head in a book, hands on a pen, eyes out the window whenever you have the chance. How you like to listen to jazz when you cook. How your showers are only warm on Saturdays because cold water makes you feel cleaner, fresher and wakes you up. How you prefer red wine with red meat and white with fish. How you’re not too bad of a cook (they find Soap often drooling over your cooking). Every small detail that makes you, well, you.

You, you, you.

They can find it embarrassing, they can find you weird, call you crazy, you don’t care.

And they do, when a young, bright voice asks you curiously:

“Y’know we’re here, right?”

You don’t know these people, can’t associate their voices with their names or their names with their faces. But the first interaction you get in months perks your interest, you continue the conversation.

“I do.”

“Watching you all the time.”

“Mhm.”

“So why?”

The person doesn’t elaborate, but you get what they mean. You seem bright, happy, almost delighted, thankful to be there. It’s confusing. They’ve seen people lose their minds, bang their heads against walls, beg them to get them out of there, that they’re innocent. Some couldn’t even stand a single day of solitude, spilling everything they knew.

You sigh. “You could kill me tomorrow. I could stay here forever.”

You can practically hear his eyebrows raise, the sound of a door opening reaches your ears, someone, perhaps multiple people walking in at the first time they hear your voice. This could be vital for the mission, or whatever they were after.

“In my last moments, i don’t want to look back and regret.” You continue. “Life’s too short for tha’.”

The air shifts, something changes.

Their opinion of you slowly evolves into a meaningful admiration. The veil coating their vision on life lifts.

They’re mesmerized.

just had to spit this one out of my system<3

hey you!! check out my masterlist

[natalievoncatte]

“Today?” Kara said, “really?”

There was a silence in the house, as a pall had fallen over it. Everyone was gathered for the festivities and the turkey in the oven was filling the house with a delightful scent that made Lena’s mouth water. Thanksgiving was supposed to be the one day that Lena could forget about her waistline and just indulge herself. She’d been “helping” Eliza along with Alex and Kelly and Nia while the boys and Kara were out back tossing a football and pretending that she and J’onn didn’t have an outrageous advantage over Brainy and James.

Now Kara was standing in the living room as the news broke in over the football game and announced that a rampaging alien was tearing apart Rio de Janiero.

“Guys,” Kara said solemnly, “I have to go.”

Lena’s heart sank. She knew better than to protest. Kara had already glumly removed her glasses and was about to go grab her suit. Lena reached out and curled a hand around her bicep.

“Please be careful, darling.”

Lena could feel eyes on her back, Eliza and Alex and Nia all watching, silently urging one of them to just finally make a damned move. Lena *lived with her*, for God’s sake, and had since she sold her penthouse. They shared breakfasts and Kara gave her foot rubs and still they were stuck in this maddening limbo without defining what and who they were and it seemed neither dared to ask.

Lena knew what she wanted the answer to be, and how it ached inside her.

Kara glumly trudged down the stairs in full Supergirl regalia, regal and imposing as ever and just as beautiful. Since she’d revealed her identity to the world she’d been freed from the constraints of having to disguise herself, and a few months ago had buzzed the left side of her head, having trimmed the rest to shoulder length, and Lena longed to run her fingers over the fuzz.

She’d also altered her suit again. It no longer had sleeves. Every time Lena saw her, it felt like her soul was going to escape her body.

Kara came over and put her hands on Lena’s arms.

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

Lena gulped down her anxiety.

“I can hear your heart, you know.”

“Just be careful. Please.”

Kara started to turn. Maybe it was the audience, maybe she was just tired of being mired in this thick tension between them. Maybe it was the wine. She grabbed Kara’s arm again and sprang forward to brush her lips against Kara’s cheek, dangerously close to Kara’s mouth.

“For luck.”

Kara’s eyes flew open wide and she gaped at Lena.

“I’ll be b-back,” she said, and swept out the door, cape billowing majestically.

God how Lena hated that cape, sometimes. It blocked the view.

What had been a festive gathering grew quiet. Everyone gathered around the television to see what was going on, save Eliza who politely excused herself to the kitchen, hiding tears that everyone politely ignored.

Lena joined her. She was making the gravy.

“A life of fighting isn’t what I wanted for her,” she said.

“Me either.”

They were alone in the kitchen and Eliza was whisking a roux as she waited for the raw flour smell to cook off.

“Lena, do you have feelings for my daughter?”

Lena swallowed hard, grabbing a knife to chop carrots for glazing so that she’d have something to occupy your hands.

Eliza’s voice was soft, something wistful in her eyes. “You must know how she feels about you.”

Lena had to stop to avoid slicing open her finger, almost feeling the touch of the blade. She cleared her throat.

“I do,” she admitted. “I very much do. If I’m going to be honest with myself, I’ve been in love with her for years.”

Eliza nodded, utterly unsurprised. “Kara is very hesitant about delicate things. When she first started living with us, she used to rip doorknobs off and break things at random while she learned to control her powers. She’s probably told you about Streaky.”

“She has.”

Eliza began pouring stock into the pot, her whisk making soft scraping sounds.

“She’s still that way about everything. Afraid if she pushes too hard, she’ll break something.”

Lena nodded. It was at that moment that Alex stormed into the kitchen. “She’s back.”

Immediately, Lena rushed out into the living room. Kara trudged through the door, and sighed.

“He got a few good hits in but he’s contained.”

Lena could only stare. Her suit was covered in scorch marks and even worse, Kara was bruised, her knuckles especially battered. She smiled weakly.

“I just need a minute to clean up.”

With a deep sigh, Kara turned and headed upstairs.

Lena could feel the eyes on her before she glanced back. Eliza motioned a silent “Go”, and Lena went.

She knocked at the bathroom door.

“Lena?” said Kara.

She always knew. Super-senses.

“It’s me. Can I come in?”

Brief hesitation, then, “yes.”

Lena stepped inside and closed the door. Kara was washing her hands, the injuries already vanishing. Lena didn’t care. She took Kara’s hands anyway, gently washing them under warm water.

She then fumbled at the clasps and unhooked Kara’s cape, and folded it. It was surprisingly heavy, made of a dense material from her long lost home. Setting it aside, she rested her hand against Kara’s deliciously broad back, silently waiting for permission.

“Go ahead,” Kara said in a shaky voice.

Lena freed the tab of the hidden zipper and pulled, baring Kara’s expansive muscular back, and peeled the suit away from her shoulders. Kara had nothing but a sports bra and boxer briefs on beneath. She finished shimmying out of the suit on her own.

Lena has seen Kara in bathing suits, or caught flashes of her changing, but this was different, somehow more intimate. There was a vulnerability, not just in the woman disrobing but in the goddess showing Lena her bruises. Lena gently touched a black and purple mark on Kara’s flank.

“This one hurt, didn’t it.”

“It always hurts. I can feel it, I just pretend I don’t.”

Lena looked up at her and met her gaze.

“Kara, may I kiss you?”

Kara blinked and Lena could actually feel her tremble.

“Yes,” she breathed.

Lena rose on her tiptoes and pressed their lips together very softly, with a deliberate slowness. When Kara kissed her back and pulled her into a delicate embrace, hands bracketed low on her hips, Lena felt like she could fly.

Kara was looking at her in wonder.

“Was that for more luck?”

Lena felt bold. She had seize the moment now, before she lost her nerve and they fell back into tense limbo.

“Kara Danvers, if you want to, you can get very lucky tonight.”

Her eyes were wide and Lena grinned.

“I umm, I…”

Lena trailed a finger down the center of Kara’s muscular chest.

“Dinner is almost ready, darling. Take your shower. Just remember to save room for dessert.”

Kara favored her with a delighted smile as Lena stepped out of the bathroom and padded down the stairs.

When she reached the ground floor, everyone was pointedly focused elsewhere, either on the football game or cooking, and Kelly and Nia were playing cards at the dining room table.

Alexa, though, handed her a beer. Lena took it with a shaking hand.

“Fucking finally,” Alex whispered. “Just don’t get too loud tonight, okay? Go down to the beach if you can’t control yourself.”

Lena’s eyes narrowed.

“I hate you.”

“Love ya too, sis-in-law,” said Alex.

“We’re not married yet.”

Alex tipped back her brew. “Six months, tops.”

Lena took a long pull on her beer and scowled.

(It ended up being four months)

[icanseethefuture333]

PAC: Guided messages from Aphrodite 🫧🌷🐚🩰🕊️

Pile 1:

Shufflemancy -

Equally Lost by Tove Lo ft. Doja Cat

If Only by Raveena

Magic Hour by Jhené Aiko

Child: Wounded, Judge, Student, Eight of Wands, Five of Pentacles, Justice, Trust (reversed), Envy, & Change

"Sweet child, my flower child - You have been a kind and gentle soul ever since you were young. You are deeply empathetic to the world surrounding you, but in return, it has treated you with judgment. Please learn to forgive those who rejected your heart and beautiful personality, people are fearful of the unknown and what's unfamiliar. Your unique beauty is valuable and the right person, or people, will come along to cherish that. You have lost faith in me, the universe, and yourself, you let your insecurities cloud your intuition. You don't know who to trust or who to believe in anymore, every person you turned to for guidance, has let you down. You are wondering if this is just a cruel game that the universe is playing, but my dear, it is important that you learn and grow from these lessons in life. For life has its flaws and also its wonders. It is a terrible feeling, but I can assure you, that the only way to overcome these challenges is to stay motivated and hope for change. You are highly intelligent and noble, use that to your advantage. Work on being brave again and lean into your talents. I know you also miss that person from your past and you feel very lonely without them, but you need to love that little version of you, who is waiting for you. Then, someone will come along and love every version of yourself, not just the shattered, fragile glass you see in the mirror."

Pile 2:

Shufflemancy -

18+ only

MILK OF THE SIREN by Melanie Martinez

Come into the Water by Mitski

Las de la intuición by Shakira

Lover, Femme Fatale, Detective, The Temperance, Ten of Pentacles, The Moon, Freedom, Relationships, & Happiness

"Amorous desires are prevalent at this time... I know you have felt it, do not deny it, embrace it! Your body is fertile at this time, use your sensual energy to attract love and abundance. There is shame when it comes to expressing lust but it is not always bad. Take more risks - try on a new dress or go out for the night. I promise I will be there to guide and protect you. Whatever you seek. You deserve to engage with your senses. Have you been wanting to manifest? The ovulation stage and menstrual cycle is a wonderful way to manipulate and harness the energy of the divine feminine. Read sensual books, play with yourself, drink wine, or eat a luxurious meal. You have deprived yourself for far too long. There is someone who wishes to start a family with you, trust in this person, and come to me for advice. You have the free will to create the future you desire. Nothing is impossible. You are a powerful and divine being. Connect with the moon and use moon water as a part of your daily ritual. Dance, create, and sing freely. Your erotic nature is nothing to be ashamed of, observe your cycle, and harness your passion for projects."

Pile 3:

Shufflemancy -

I want war (BUT I NEED PEACE) by Kali Uchis

T r a n s p a r e n t s o u l by WILLOW ft. Travis Barker

FIND YOUR WAY BACK by Beyoncé ft. Melo-X

Martyr, Exorcist. Visionary, Eight of Swords, Seven of Wands, Three of Pentacles, Honesty, Discipline, & Success

"I know you have been waiting for me. You are a strong individual. Everyday, you take on more than the average person could even handle. So many people depend on you and you don't wish to let anyone down, but how long will you stretch yourself, my love? I want you to realize that to be in your feminine power, you do not need to be passive and calm all the time, you need to find healthy ways to release your anger. You do not have to bottle up the emotions that you feel inside, you must speak up for yourself, and be the confident person, I know that you can be. Whether that's at work or with your family, start setting boundaries, allow me to take over. I am not just the goddess of love, I am also the goddess of war. I fight for what I want, won't you? Do you dream anymore? Will you fight for the life you wish to have and know that you could achieve if you put your mind to it, or will you let people to continue walk all over you. You have a vision and goals, start bringing them to life by taking the steps to get there. Breaking them down into tasks will help you achieve better results. You are on the way to be a highly successful being. Do the inner work to attract the money and abundance you need for your desired path. To become your higher self, you also have to let go of the destructive impulses and unhealthy habits that is necessary for your growth."

Pile 4:

Shufflemancy -

Alien by Sabrina Carpenter ft. Jonas Blue

Bees & Honey by Rina Sawayama ft. Coco Morier

Pretty Savage by BLACKPINK

Artist, Advocate, Pioneer, Three of Swords, Queen of Swords, The Empress, Death, Growth, & Humor

"My child ("my daughter"), it is important that you raise your standards and stop settling for less. You have impeccable taste and can imagine things beyond what the universe can grasp, you are capable of creating magic, you just need to take the leap of faith. You are bold, charming, and humorous. You see the best in the worst situations and people value you for this but are also intimidated by your adaptable nature. Your compassionate nature and multi-layered personality is more than one dimensional - it's more than 4D, it's in the 6D. Do what others are scared of doing, dance on tabletops, talk to strangers, life is too short to be comfortable. Practice the law of detachment. The more you are detached to the outcome, the faster it will come to you. If people talk gossip or talk bad about you, let them and just laugh it off! Trust me, the people who are envious of you are waiting for a reaction, do not give them the satisfaction. You will remain untouchable as you embrace your masculine and feminine side, find a balance, and you will known for being innovative and a trendsetter in your journey."

Pile 5:

Shufflemancy -

Velvet Mood by Alice Phoebe Lou

Give Up by FKA Twigs

Love by Lana Del Rey

Rescuer, Don Juan, Scribe, Companion, The Hanged Woman, Nine of Cups, Eight of Pentacles, Service, Surrender, & Indecision "Oh my dear, you are so young still. I've seen your diary, the many nights you prayed and hoped that someday, someone will love you give you the romance that you see from the movies. I know that you believe that maybe your soulmate does not exist in this life, but I assure that they will appear. Your dreams are pure and sweet. Embrace this side of you, for it is needed in this world that is ever so dark and grim. Your light brings hope and joy to others, but be careful, for not everyone is used to your kind and generous nature. It will trigger some individuals and it will also attract romantic partners who wish to take advantage of your light. For those who are not healed or cannot fathom being so loving, it causes them to react in negative ways. Continue your writing. Write stories and share them to the world, for it might even help you fall in love one day. If not with a person, then with a passion. Your writing is beautiful and should be practiced more. You can also write about the person you dream of having in your life, platonically or romantically. Remember to not always put others' needs first and take care of yourself as well, for you have a habit of idealizing a person and romanticize the situation. Be wise with your decisions. Clarity will come to you as you let go of the things you cannot control."

Pile 6:

Shufflemancy -

Love Myself by Olivia O'brien

Venus as a Boy by Björk

Know Your Worth by Khalid ft. Disclosure

Storyteller, Liberator, Alchemist, Seven of Cups, Wheel of Fortune, Wheel of Fortune, The Emperor, The World, Failure, Fear, Worry, & Adversity

"Love, that is what you are. Why do you continue to be so hard on yourself? Give yourself the grace no one ever gave you. We all make mistakes and you are no exception. Your imperfections and flaws is what makes you a beautiful person, inside and out. I know you feel regretful about the choices you made, one recently being the choices you made towards love, but you are deserving of so much more. I will bless you with someone who will love every inch of you, but you must feel this way about yourself. Devote yourself and practice celibacy. Stop thinking about that person you know that I removed from your life for a reason. Know your worth. Pray and ask for guidance. Manifest for the odds to turn in your favor. You must have faith as you liberate yourself from limiting beliefs that no longer serve you. You get to create your story, no one else, release yourself from this script and create a new one. You are musically inclined, sing to me, let me help you write poetry or songs, I can give you inspiration. Turn your pain into beauty and use your current situation to transform into something better. You are entering a new cycle in life, where you will be focused on self-love and experience emotional fulfillment. Being single has its advantages, you can explore the world, travel, and see what life has to offer you without limitations. New doors are opening and better things are coming, I promise (channeled song: By Yourself by Ty Dolla $ign ft. Jhené Aiko & Change Your Life by Kehlani)."

[antinousletmehit]

Pairing: platonic!Antinous x fem!reader/ Telemachus x fem!reader

Note: a chapter of this series will come out each day because I’ve already pre written this stuff PRE ITHACA SAGA so the future chapters regarding that may or may not be changed. Also I will go through readers and Antinous’s backstory as siblings soon.

THIS IS PART 3

Here’s where you can find part 2–> https://www.tumblr.com/antinousletmehit/771422711234887681/paring-telemachus-x-femreader-notes-first

N/N= nickname

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Y/n strolled out of the hall, her smirk lingering from the sheer delight of watching Telemachus squirm. The cool, quiet halls of the palace gave way to the raucous noise of the main hall. Laughter, shouting, and the occasional clatter of a goblet hitting the floor filled the space.

The Suitors were sprawled around the room, gambling with dice, boasting of how Penelope looked their way and didn’t frown, and play-fighting as if they were on a battlefield. Plates of half-eaten food littered the tables, and amphorae of wine were passed around with careless abandon.

Y/n weaved through the chaos, dodging an overly enthusiastic shove between two men sparring with wooden swords. She reached for a cup of water from a passing servant’s tray, taking a sip before a familiar voice cut through the din.

“Well, if it ain’t little N/N!”

Y/n turned to see her brother, Antinous, standing near one of the tables, arms wide in mock celebration. He was surrounded by a few of the rowdier Suitors, his grin as sharp and confident as ever.

“Don’t call me that,” she said, though her tone lacked any real annoyance.

“Why not? It suits you,” Antinous replied, leaning on the edge of the table. “Little N/N, always poking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Tell me, who have you been tormenting now?”

“Who says I’ve been tormenting anyone?” she asked innocently, taking another sip of water.

Antinous laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh, come now. You have that look about you. The same one I get after outsmarting some poor fool.” He narrowed his eyes at her playfully. “Let me guess… Telemachus?”

Y/n smirked, leaning against a nearby pillar. “Who else? He’s so easy, Antinous. All I have to do is say a few words, and he’s blushing like a maiden on her wedding day.”

The Suitors around Antinous erupted in laughter, one of them slapping the table so hard the dice scattered. “The prince of Ithaca, reduced to a stammering fool by a girl!” one of them crowed.

Antinous grinned, raising his goblet in a mock toast. “Well done, sister. You’re learning from the best.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “If I’m learning from you, then maybe I should start charging him for the privilege of my company.”

“That’s the spirit!” Antinous said, gesturing for her to sit at the table with him. “Why waste your talents on free entertainment when you could profit from them? You could even outdo me one day.”

“Outdo you?” she repeated with a laugh, setting her cup down. “Is that even possible?”

The two of them shared a laugh, their sibling bond clear in the way they teased each other. Around them, the Suitors continued their games and boasts. But in the back of Y/N’s mind, an image lingered—Telemachus, standing defiant despite her taunts.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, her smirk lingering as Antinous poured himself a goblet of wine. Around her, the Suitors’ voices ebbed and flowed in waves of laughter and drunken arguments, but Y/ns focus was on her brother.

He was always the center of attention, effortlessly commanding the room. He had a knack for it, a charisma that even she had to admire. Still, as much as she enjoyed their games, Antinous’s antics sometimes grated on her nerves.

“Do you ever get tired of playing king?” Y/n asked, swirling the water in her goblet.

Antinous arched an eyebrow, his grin unwavering. “King? No, sister. I’m merely trying to keep the throne warm for the day Odysseus never returns. Someone has to take charge, after all. And that old relic is too busy mourning a dead man than to choose the man who’ll have her to wife.”

“Is that what you call drinking, gambling, and pretending you’re invincible?” she quipped. Her smirk sharper than the edge of Antinous’s blade.

Antinous laughed, unbothered by her jab. “Careful, Y/n. Envy doesn’t suit you.”

“Envious? Of you?” She scoffed, though her smile betrayed her amusement. “I’d rather be the serpent hiding in the shadows than the lion roaring in the open. You should know better than anyone how that story ends.”

Antinous paused, his grin faltering just slightly. It was fleeting, but Y/n noticed. She always did. He recovered quickly, leaning back in his chair with an air of practiced ease.

“And yet, here you are, mingling with the lions,” he said, gesturing to the raucous crowd around them. “Perhaps you’re not so different from me after all.”

Y/n didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let her gaze drift over the room. The Suitors were a sorry lot, drunken fools more concerned with games and glory than anything of substance. Telemachus wasn’t wrong to hate them. She hated them too, in her own weird way.

Her mind wandered back to the interaction with Telemachus, to the flash of anger in Telemachus’s eyes as she goaded him. It wasn’t the first time she’d pushed him, and it wouldn’t be the last. There was something about him, something raw and untapped, like a blade waiting to be sharpened.

“You’re quiet,” Antinous said, breaking her thoughts. He tilted his head, studying her. “What are you thinking about now?”

Y/n smirked, meeting his gaze. “Nothing you need to worry about, brother. Just thinking about how boring this lot is.” She gestured to the rowdy group around them. “Don’t you ever wish for something… more challenging?”

Antinous chuckled, leaning closer. “Challenges are for those who have something to prove. I don’t have anything to prove, I know who I am and I prefer to enjoy myself.”

“Of course you do,” she said dryly, taking another sip of her water.

Antinous didn’t press further, turning his attention back to the game at hand. Y/n, however, let her thoughts drift again, this time to Telemachus.

Y/n smiled to herself, setting her goblet down. The lions could keep roaring. She would remain the serpent, coiled and patient, waiting for the right moment to strike.

[sunandflame]

NSFW Alphabet - Dracule Mihawk

Warnings: nsfw

Word Count: 1319

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Reader

crossposted on AO3

A = Aftercare Mihawk isn’t overly affectionate by default, but after an intense encounter, he shows his care through quiet actions — cooling a cloth for your skin, offering you wine or water, holding you against his chest while the silence stretches in comfort. If he’s especially pleased, he’ll murmur something in that low voice, lips brushing your hair. It’s not about coddling; it’s about presence.

B = Body Part (Favorite) He has a quiet obsession with your neck and throat. Something about how vulnerable that area is draws him in — not to harm, but to dominate gently. His calloused hands curl around your throat just enough to make you feel claimed, never in danger. He’ll kiss there, breathe against your skin, whisper things only meant for you.

C = Cum Mihawk is controlled, always — even when it comes to release. He prefers finishing inside, especially if he’s emotionally tied to you. It’s a primal thing, but unspoken. His gaze is locked on yours when it happens, like he wants to watch the moment his control finally slips.

D = Dirty Talk Not constant, but deliberate. Mihawk speaks with purpose — low, razor-sharp words designed to unravel you. “Do you understand what you do to me?” / “You begged for this. Now take it.” When he’s particularly rough, his voice drops even further, accented and cold — and it only makes you melt faster.

E = Experience He has had lovers before, undoubtedly. He approaches sex with precision, almost like swordsmanship — learning your reactions, knowing exactly where to touch, how to pace, how to undo you without needing to ask. He doesn't flaunt experience, he simply uses it — with devastating effectiveness.

F = Favorite Position Mihawk prefers positions that let him maintain eye contact — missionary with your wrists pinned, or taking you from behind with your body bent beneath his, one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. It’s not just about power — it’s about watching every flicker of emotion on your face.

G = Goofy (How serious is he?) Goofy? Never. But sometimes, if you’re especially teasing or playful, you might catch the corner of his mouth lift in amusement. In bed, though, Mihawk is focused — intense, intentional, and never silly. He does like when you get flustered though. That might be the closest he gets to playful.

H = Hair (Grooming Preferences) Always clean and well-kept. Mihawk values discipline — he won’t expect perfection from you, but he appreciates neatness. If you pull his hair or run your fingers through it, he’ll allow it — even lean into it, silently. It means more than words if he lets you touch him like that.

I = Intimacy His brand of intimacy is quiet, slow-burning. A hand resting on your lower back, a long stare that says more than a sentence. When he’s in love, his passion deepens — he becomes rougher, but also more attentive. It’s like being the only person in the world when he touches you.

J = Jack Off He prefers the real thing. If he’s away or restrained for long periods, he may take care of it in silence — thinking only of you. But he sees it as a last resort, not a habit. He has discipline, after all. If you walk in on him doing it, you’ll get a long, unreadable stare — and then an invitation to come closer.

K = Kink Control. Mihawk isn’t cruel, but he likes having power over you — guiding your pleasure, holding you still, whispering things that make you tremble. He also has a soft dom streak: quiet dominance, pressure at your throat, hand at your back, you’re mine in a look. He doesn’t need ropes — his voice alone could hold you in place.

L = Location He prefers privacy. His home, especially the bedroom or the wine cellar’s cool stone walls. Somewhere he can take his time and hear every sound you make. He has no interest in risk — he wants every second uninterrupted.

M = Motivation He’s not driven by lust alone — what turns Mihawk on is reaction. The way your breath catches when he speaks low against your ear. The sight of you kneeling, waiting for him. The tension of anticipation. He thrives on control, yes — but only when it’s willingly given.

N = NO (Things he won’t do) Mihawk won’t share you, ever. Threesomes, voyeurism, anything involving others — a hard no. He doesn’t raise his voice in bed, doesn’t degrade. His control is absolute, but never cruel. Anything that leaves a permanent mark? Denied, unless discussed.

O = Oral (Giving & Receiving) He’s a master at it — no surprise. When he goes down on you, it’s with precision and purpose, and he takes his time. He watches your face, reads your body.

Receiving? He won’t ask, but when you offer — and especially when you do it unprompted — he’ll reward you. A hand on your head, a muttered “Good.” Maybe even a groan. If you make him lose composure? You’ll feel it later.

P = Pace Controlled. Slow, steady, with deep, hard thrusts that drive the breath from your lungs. When he gets close or if you push his limits, it gets rougher — but never chaotic. Every movement has purpose.

Q = Quickie Rare. He doesn’t like rushing something meant to be savored. But if the situation absolutely demands it — and you tease him past his limit — you might find yourself bent over a table, muffled against his shoulder while he holds your hips still with one hand and covers your mouth with the other.

R = Risk (Spontaneity/Experiments) Calculated risk only. He’s open to experimenting, but on his terms. You bring him an idea, he’ll consider it — and when he agrees, it’ll be his execution. Not chaotic, not reckless. Always intentional.

S = Stamina Inhuman. This is Mihawk, the world’s strongest swordsman — he can go for hours if he chooses. But he won’t always. He prefers to draw it out, leaving you completely undone by the end of a single round — unless you beg. Then you’ll find out just how much endurance he really has.

T = Toys Minimal, but he’s not against them — especially if it means watching you squirm under his gaze. He prefers using his hands, his mouth, his voice. But a toy in your mouth or between your thighs while he watches? He’ll allow it… for training.

U = Unfair He can be teasing, especially when you’re desperate. He’ll hold you just at the edge, lips brushing your skin, voice murmuring things that make your knees weak — but he won’t break you. Unless you ask.

V = Volume He’s quiet — but when he moans, it’s low and guttural, like something pulled from deep in his chest. The first time you hear it, it’ll echo in your mind for days. When he’s rougher, you might hear a quiet “Mine.”

W = Wild Card (Something unexpected) He has a soft spot for post-sex wine. If he’s pleased, he’ll pour a glass, hand it to you, and sit beside you in silence, letting the glow linger. It’s oddly romantic, in his own Mihawk way.

X = X-Ray (What’s he packing?) Long, thick, and curved slightly upward. A perfect match for his frame — elegant, but intimidating. He knows exactly how to use it, and rarely, if ever, lets you forget it.

Y = Yearning He’s not obsessive — but when Mihawk wants, he wants. He’ll pin you with his gaze, and you’ll feel it like a sword drawn across your skin. He doesn’t say “I need you” — he shows it with the way he holds you still, the way he touches you like you’re fragile and powerful all at once.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly he sleeps after) He stays awake longer than you. Watching. Thinking. One arm around your waist, the other folded behind his head. You fall asleep to the sound of his steady breathing, the warmth of his body, and the faint clink of his wine glass as he takes one last sip in the dark.

[jessiso]

"Culinary Experiment"

A Criminal Minds one-shot | Spencer Reid x reader

When Spencer Reid tries to cook dinner for you using a spreadsheet, flow chart, and a whole lot of science, the evening turns into a hilariously chaotic and heart-meltingly sweet experiment.

cw: just fluff

w/c 1,120

You weren’t sure what was more unbelievable—that Spencer Reid had insisted on cooking dinner for you, or that he’d done so with a spreadsheet.

Yes.

A spreadsheet.

You watched from your spot on the barstool at your kitchen island, elbow propped up, chin resting in your palm, as Spencer stood in your kitchen, completely focused. His brow furrowed like he was deconstructing a complex crime scene, not boiling water.

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” you offered gently, your lips twitching with a smile as he flipped through a very detailed, very color-coded printout.

“I statistically perform better in unfamiliar activities when I can approach them independently,” he said, without looking up. “Also, I took into account your favorite flavors, preferred spice levels, known allergies, and a few commonly paired palate enhancers based on culinary studies from the Journal of Food Science.”

You blinked. “Did you just say ‘palate enhancers’ like it was a crime scene clue?”

Spencer finally looked over at you, a crooked grin forming on his face. “I mean, taste is subjective, but it is largely guided by science. Flavor is a multisensory experience, affected by smell, texture, and even expectation. This pasta should be a success.”

You looked past him to the stovetop, where a suspicious amount of steam was rising from a pot he hadn’t checked in at least five minutes.

“Spence… do you even like cooking?”

He hesitated. “I like learning. And I like you. Therefore, cooking for you is… an intersection of meaningful variables.”

You melted just a little. Because of course Spencer couldn’t just say something simple. He had to say it like it was a thesis. But it still made your heart squeeze.

“Well, you’re cute when you’re concentrating,” you said.

He smiled again—this time shyly—and reached for a whisk.

Unfortunately, that’s when things started to go downhill.

“I believe this is the part where you fold in the cheese,” he said aloud to himself, eyes scanning the page like it might solve all of life’s mysteries. “But it doesn’t say how to fold it… there’s no actual folding.”

“It’s just a saying, Spence. Like, stir gently.”

He squinted. “That’s extremely vague.”

You got up to help, mostly because he was trying to pour a mountain of shredded cheese into the boiling pasta water, which was most certainly not correct.

“Wait, no—cheese doesn’t go in the boiling water. That’ll turn into a clump. Look, here.” You gently took the spoon and showed him the right pot. “It goes in the sauce. With the cream.”

“Oh,” he murmured, his cheeks going a little pink. “I guess I conflated two steps. I was trying to streamline the process using a flow chart.”

You giggled. “You made a flow chart for pasta?”

“Well, it is carbonara-adjacent, and I wanted to make sure the egg didn’t scramble. It’s all about heat application. Did you know that the Maillard reaction—"

“Spencer,” you interrupted softly, “I love you, but if you start talking about amino acids right now, I might laugh so hard I snort wine through my nose.”

He looked sheepish, and adorable, and you kissed his cheek.

Somehow, despite the chaos, you managed to help him get everything sorted.

The sauce thickened—though it was a little lumpy—and the pasta boiled just enough. He’d made salad (drenched in dressing, but lovingly assembled), garlic bread (a little burnt), and even tried to chill the wine (but forgot and put it in the freezer for an hour, so it was practically a wine slushie).

When everything was ready, he lit a candle in the middle of your tiny table like it was a Michelin-starred restaurant, and pulled out your chair.

“This is…” you paused, looking at the slightly clumsy but genuinely sweet meal in front of you, “perfect.”

He sat across from you, tucking one hand under his thigh like he always did when he was nervous. “You don’t have to pretend it tastes good. I know the sauce is uneven. And the garlic bread might be carcinogenic.”

“Spence,” you said seriously, setting down your fork. “You cooked for me. You made a literal spreadsheet of my favorite foods. You practically did math to make me dinner. That’s… the most ‘you’ thing ever, and it’s also the sweetest.”

He gave you a soft, earnest smile. “I just wanted to do something for you. You’ve been so supportive lately, and work’s been difficult, and—statistically speaking, couples who engage in acts of service for each other report higher relationship satisfaction and oxytocin levels. I wanted to raise your oxytocin.”

You burst out laughing, nearly choking on a bite of pasta. “You’re trying to hack my brain chemistry with pasta?”

He blinked. “Yes.”

You reached across the table and took his hand in yours. “You don’t have to hack anything. Just sitting here with you, sharing a half-burnt dinner and wine slushies, is better than anything five-star.”

His ears turned red.

You both ate slowly, sharing glances and laughter. The food really wasn’t bad—lumpy in parts, sure, but the flavor was there. And Spencer kept up a running commentary of “fun facts” about pasta origins and sauce viscosity and the psychology of comfort food.

“Did you know that food memories are some of the most emotionally potent memories we form?” he said between bites. “There’s a direct neural pathway between the olfactory bulb and the amygdala. So the smell of garlic, for example, can immediately evoke childhood memories or emotional states.”

“So what you’re saying is… twenty years from now, if I smell burned garlic bread, I’ll think of you?”

He tilted his head, thoughtful. “It is likely.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand again. “I really do love you, you know.”

His expression shifted, soft and full. “I love you too.”

Then, like he couldn’t help himself, he added, “And I’ve loved you since 57 days after we met. I know the exact day because you brought me coffee and remembered I don’t take sugar, and you smiled at me like I was the most interesting person in the room.”

Your heart completely melted.

“You remember the exact day?” you whispered.

He nodded. “I remember everything about you.”

You stood and moved to him, crawling into his lap without hesitation, curling your arms around his neck. He was warm and familiar, and you could feel his heartbeat picking up.

“You are such a nerd,” you whispered against his ear.

“Guilty,” he murmured, his hands sliding gently to your waist. “But I’m your nerd.”

You stayed like that for a long moment, the dishes forgotten, the candles flickering.

Eventually, he whispered, “So… does this count as a successful experiment?”

You smiled against his cheek. “Best. Date. Ever.”

[quietplace26]

I had more ideas for my >post< involving a pregnant, exile Furina!MC. Enjoy part 2~

Oceanid route - Platonic Oceanid x Furina!MC

Furina!MC never makes it to Sumeru, her dingy boat breaking to pieces when a large wave flips it over, causing a weak Furina!MC, still in chains, to strugle in the water till she passed out, thinking she was going to die like this, alone...

...Only, she wakes up, alive, and most certainly not alone.

All around her were Oceanids.

She obviously thinks they only saved her to kill her themselves as you remembered their hatred towards Focalors. She flinches when one comes closer, fins reaching out towards her, thinking this was it-

-only to be hugged.

The Oceanid purrs, cooing out soft noises of comfort as more Oceanids come closer, making the same noises. Their fins were watery but smooth as they cuddled a confused Furina!MC.

It's only when one of them speaks clearly does she break down into tears. And it was tears of relief.

"You are safe sister... You are safe with us... You and the little one... You are safe with kin..."

They didn't see Focalors in her. They felt remnants of Focalors in her, but nothing else. They felt her death, so that's why they came to Fontaine's water... only to see the humans and the Hydro Sovereign cruelly throw away a young human that smelled of Oceanid. An Oceanid with young.

So Furina!MC was welcomed by the Oceanids, finding a home and family with them as her child grew in her belly.

Furina!MC was happy... until something went wrong.

Furina!MC, she... she didn't make it through her child's birth. Her body, despite everything the Oceanids did, was much too fragile from all the stress it was put through with the prophecy and her forced exile.

So, with a wailing little girl cradled in one Oceanid's fins, they sadly look at the sister they lost so suddenly... only, Furina!MC doesn't stay dead. Her body, cold and unmoving, begins to melt into water, shifting and turning... before an Oceanid took her place.

The Oceanid, Furina!MC, tilts her head confusion, asking softly who they all were, and also who she was.

But even as she asks this, her head turns towards the still wailing child.

"...My baby? That- She's mine-"

She may have forgotten everything, but a mother never forgets their own child.

...A few years later rumors begin circulating in Fontaine about Oceanids being seen more frequently in the waters of Chenyu Valley.

And reports say a child was seen swimming with then-

Diary of Secrets route - Yandere!Neuvillette x Furina!MC

Read Diary of Secrets >post< to understand more.

it happens so suddenly. Her boat barely touches the sandy shores of Sumeru when Furina!MC blacks out and wakes up to find herself back on earth. She was even in her old body!

She even learns that while she may have been gone for 500 years while in Teyvat, she's only been missing for 5 months on earth.

And while she was back in her original body, her worst fears are confirmed when she was taken to the hospital after being found unconscious outside her house.

Somehow, despite her being in her original body which by all accounts should be untouched as she never slept with anyone in her past life, but of course, Teyvat loved to fuck with her cause the doctor said she was pregnant.

She knew it was Neuvillette's. He was the only man she's ever slept with, and the timing even matched up as she recalls sleeping with him for the first and ONLY time a week or so before the prophecy.

She remembers how she had been stressed that night, having drank several glasses of wine, and Neuvillette was helping to her room, and she kissed him-

...She didn't want to think about that incident anymore.

Her family thought someone took advantage of her, which is why she was kidnapped, but it wasn't the truth. You and Neuvillette willing slept together.

But she never thought she would get pregnant... She didn't even think she could, to be honest, not with the way Focalors treated her body...

But none of that mattered. She was back in her world. A world that was safe. Where she didn't need to act like someone she wasn't and a world where she wouldn't be thrown away like yesterday's trash.

...Fast forward a year later, and she held a beautiful baby girl in her arms. Baby Seraphina looked exactly like her, and thankfully not like her 'Furina' self.

However, she did have Neuvillette's eyes...

MC shakes her head. No! She wasn't going to push her fear onto her child! Her precious little girl...

And that should've been that. MC would go on raising Seraphina as a single mom with the help of her family and friends, all around a happy ending, no?

...No, no MC didn't get her happy ending as the moment all of Fontaine discovered her diary back in Teyvat, the fate of MC and baby Seraphina was set in stone.

Neuvillette somehow manages to find his way to MC's world. He finds his way into her house. Finding her sound asleep in bed... with a baby Seraphina sleeping beside her.

Neuvillette drinks in the sight of both HIS mate and HIS daughter, remembering the pure shock and horror he felt when he read the last page of HIS mate's diary, about how she thought she was pregnant-

And he exiled her. All alone, in chains, and in a dingy boat that could've collapsed. She could've drowned and he wouldn't have known!

What was he thinking back then?! He had been so angry about her 'lies', he just-

A small coo was heard, knocking him out his thoughts and he sees HIS hatchling staring sleepily up at him. Her eyes were like his-

He easily snatches away his mate and hatchling back to Teyvat. Back to Fontaine. Locking them both up in the Palais Mermonia where he could always keep a close eye on them.

There was no happy ending. At least, not for MC...

Poor little Seraphina... as she grew older, she would always wonder why her mama seemed so scared of papa or the other nice people of Fontaine.

If only she knew...

Seraphina in both ideas would definitely try to re start the prophecy if she knew what Fontaine and Neuvillette did to her mama... She was the child of a goddess, even if she was 'fake', and a child of the Hydro Sovereign. She had power to back her up and that's terrifying.

Celestia route - Platonic Celestia x Furina!MC

Furina!MC was crying on the boat when she heard it. A rippling sound. Like when you toss something into water and it ripples, but... It was coming from the air.

And then she sees it, a crack forms in front of the boat. A crack in midair, and it opens like a beast ready to bite down on flesh.

And a woman steps out. And even though it's been 500 years, she still remembers Genshin Impact opening cut scene. The goddess that attacks the twins. The Heavenly Principles-

HP (Heavenly Principles) examines her blankly for several seconds before smiling an odd smile and lifts her hand.

Furina!MC has barely any time to understand as cubes begin to form all around her, swallowing her up in darkness-

...She wakes up somewhere else. Somewhere... Warm. Beautiful. And... And in the sky.

Was she in Celestia?!

...Furina!MC would come to learn that yes, she was in Celestia, and Celestia themselves kidnapped- er, invited her here.

They wanted to meet face to face the one who tricked them, the one who played the part of Hydro Archon while that cowardly Focalors stumbled around in the background.

They weren't mad. Annoyed, yes, but mostly amused.

They found Furina!MC to be rather fascinating, and even they had respect for her never ending stage play when everything came to an end.

She was so fascinating that they wanted to meet her... Only, even they and the HP didn't consider the fallout of the prophecy as Fontaine and an ungrateful fully powered Hydro Sovereign threw Furina!MC away like trash.

Well, another thrash is another's treasure, and Celestia won't let this gem walk off so easily.

And if those humans and that arrogant Sovereign didn't want this precious Goddess (yes, goddess, she was more than worthy of the title-) who more than deserved the time of Hydro Archon than even that coward Focalors or that fool Egeria.

Then Celestia will take her for themselves.

Especially since she was carrying that annoying Hydro Sovereign's youngling. That little soul... It might come in handy one day...

But for now, they, along HP and the 4 shades, welcome this little goddess to their ranks. It will take some time for the poor dear to come to accept her new status, but Celestia had all the time in the world...

Several years later the HP appears in the center of the Court of Fontaine, announcing that a new Hydro Archon had been chosen... all the while 'The chosen Hydro Archon', a teenaged Seraphina, stood beside her, glaring darkly at Neuvillette, who could only stand there horrified as he sees how much she looked like his ex-mate... But had his eyes and horns.

[mamiobesssionfics]

The Quiet Between the Thunder

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Summary: You’re a florist who lives quietly and loves deeply. Rhea Ripley crashes into your life, unexpected, loud, and fierce.

Part 2

It started with a broken vase.

You hear the shatter from the backroom. Your head snaps up, the scent of lilacs and eucalyptus still clinging to your sleeves as you rush forward.

Glass glitters across the floor of your flower shop like scattered stars, and in the centre of it stands a woman, tall, tattooed, looking like she was carved out of leather and lightning.

She holds her hands up, sheepish, with sheepdog eyes and black nails.

"Shit," she says. "I was just trying to grab the black roses."

You blink. Most people ask for peonies.

Not obsidian-dipped stems and thorns like daggers.

“I’ll clean it up,” you murmur, crouching with a dustpan.

“No, I broke it. Let me help.” She kneels beside you, big hands awkward around delicate shards. “I’m Rhea, by the way.”

Of course, she is.

The name fits the storm she carries.

You learn that she’s buying flowers for her sister, for a birthday.

You suggest deep burgundy ranunculus and wine-coloured calla lilies. She listens, really listens, head tilted, eyes soft.

She leaves with a bouquet wrapped in black paper and tied with a crimson ribbon. Before she steps outside, she looks over her shoulder and smiles.

“I’ll be back,” she says.

And somehow… You believe her.

She returns the next week.

No broken glass this time. But she lingers.

Her boots thud against the floor as she walks the shop slowly, trailing fingers near the petals but never touching.

She asks questions. About meanings. About arrangements. About you.

You tell her little things that you like silence that you talk to your flowers. That you named your favourite fern "Bartholomew" and he’s very fussy about light.

She laughs. Loud and warm. It startles you at first, but it also pulls a smile from your lips.

“Y’know,” she says, leaning against the counter, “you’re not what I expected.”

You glance at her. “What did you expect?”

She grins. “Someone afraid of me.”

You look at her, really look—past the ink, the muscle, the sharp tongue—and find shadows under her eyes.

A softness in the way she keeps her hands close to her sides. You smile.

“I’m not.”

It becomes a rhythm.

She shows up, sometimes bruised from a match, sometimes tired.

You make her tea. She helps you close the shop.

She watches you tie ribbons with practised fingers. You give her lavender for sleep, chamomile for calm, and roses when she’s quiet.

Sometimes you don’t speak.

Sometimes she talks too much.

Sometimes you lean into her side without thinking, and her breath catches like it surprises her every time.

One evening, the lights are low.

Rain patters against the windows like soft drumming fingers. She sits on the floor, back against the counter, while you water the violets.

“You know,” she says suddenly, “I used to think gentleness was weakness.”

You glance at her.

She doesn’t look at you. Just stares at her hands. Big, scarred, strong hands.

“But then I met you. And you’re the softest thing I’ve ever seen. And the bravest.”

Your heart flutters like a moth against glass.

You set the watering can down.

And sit beside her.

Close.

Not touching.

But not far.

“You don’t have to be made of thunder all the time,” you whisper.

She turns to you.

And there’s a look in her eyes like something breaking open.

“I don’t know how to stop.”

You reach for her hand.

Thread your fingers through hers.

“You don’t have to. Not all at once.”

The first kiss happens weeks later.

No roses, no drama.

Just you.

In your little apartment above the shop.

Wearing a sweater too big for you, sleeves covering your palms.

Her in joggers and a t-shirt, hair wet from the shower.

She touches your face like you might vanish.

And when she kisses you, it’s slow. Careful. A little clumsy, like she hasn’t kissed in a long time.

You cup her jaw and pull her closer. She exhales against your lips like she’s finally breathing right.

Later, her head rests against your chest, and your fingers trail her tattooed arm like it’s the most sacred thing you’ve ever seen.

“You smell like lilies,” she murmurs.

You smile against her temple.

“You smell like trouble.”

She grins. “Guess we’re a good match, then.”

When she makes love to you, it’s with reverence.

She unravels you slowly, fingers tracing skin like petals.

Your breath hitches. Her mouth follows.

She whispers your name like a secret—over and over—until it’s the only thing that matters.

And afterwards, tangled in your sheets, she pulls you close and buries her face in your neck.

“You’re everything I didn’t know I needed,” she murmurs.

You kiss her hair.

And hold her tighter.

Part 2

[jeyunhos]

Midnight feast | jyh [ Interactive story! ]

pairing: vampire!yunho x human!fem!reader cw: blood, drinking blood, vampirism, oral sex (female receiving), oral sex (male receiving), public sex, alcohol consumption, if I miss any tags let me know Summary: After your friend stands you up at a bar, a handsome, mysterious stranger tries to light up your day. A/N: Finally!! my second interactive story, this time with yunho. This story is a choose-your-own-path story, each link at the end will take you through different routes with different plots and endings. I always have a lot of fun making these so I hope you will too. This story is 18+, minors do not interact.

Keeping up with his desires was not always easy, as a creature of the night in modern days some things had gotten just plain complicated. Furthermore, it didn’t help that he was picky about his tastes and likes, but when he landed his eyes on a target he did not rest until he had it. 

He had to have you. 

He realized it when he saw you across the bar, all on your own, toying with a glass of an untouched beverage. You looked rather… disappointed, if he had to put a word to it; vulnerable women weren’t exactly his type, but something about you was dragging him in, it was making him thirsty. 

“A glass of wine, please, cabernet.” he had approached your side on the bar and turned to the bartender “And whatever the lady wants to replace that watered-down drink of hers.” 

It took you a second to realize that he was talking about you since you were too absentmindedly toying with the slim red straw that your glass had as decoration. 

“Oh, no, that’s-” you tried to refuse politely, not really wanting to offend the handsome stranger, but also not in the mood for some random guy to be hitting on you. 

“Please, I insist” he raised a hand in your direction, accompanied by a charming, captivating smile that made you feel warm within yourself. “I know what it’s like to be stood up” he added “Asshole boyfriend?” his eyes searched for yours with a tilt of his head. 

At that moment you took a proper look at him. He had deep black hair that somehow shined blueish whenever the dim bar lights angled enough to hit his face. He was wearing frameless glasses and a turtleneck sweater adorned by chain-like necklaces that were barely covered by his leather jacket. Fair skin that contrasted perfectly with his deep black eyes. Those eyes, certainly profound enough to drown you in them if you weren’t careful, you could tell. 

As you were weighing your chances to come out of this exchange unharmed, which you deemed very slim, the bartender came back with his order. Then you noticed the nails when he took a hold of the glass, they were long for a man and they were almond-shaped as well, covered in shiny, transparent rocks. 

Despite his attention leaving you briefly to properly hold his drink, his eyes were deeply focused on yours, awaiting an answer to his question that was purposely formulated to test his own chances with you, and it wasn’t like you were particularly interested…

But there was just something about those eyes. 

“More like an ungrateful friend” you finally spoke, as if something was compelling you to do so. 

“I know the type.” he tried to sympathize in hopes you wouldn’t push him away “Care for some company?” 

Granted, you did not really want to get hit on tonight, least of all to go home and hook up with a stranger, but you figured why turn some free drinks and a nice conversation down? You decided to amuse him for a while. He was alluring, not bad on the eye at all, why not? 

After the first few minutes of awkward conversation and introductions, during which you learned his name was Jeong Yunho and he insisted on you calling him only ‘Yunho’, the conversation began to flow easily. It was almost as if he could see into you, that something was forcing you to keep talking about yourself no matter how stupid, embarrassing, or utterly unnecessary the information was. To every single bit of said information, though, he had an answer ready, some were of sympathy and understanding, and some similar stories of his own. You could feel a connection, a real connection that didn’t happen often. 

Yunho felt about the same way, the one difference was that you could feel it in your chest, and him? In the endless throbbing between his legs and the urge to make a mess out of that beautiful neck of yours. 

“...and I swear, the cat just climbed all the way up my leg and, before I knew it, it was on my head!” as he finished his sentence, he began to laugh at the reminiscing of his own story. 

You couldn’t help but laugh along; it’s not that the story was particularly funny, but he was enjoying himself so much it was infectious. 

“Must have been really talented, climbing a man as tall as you” you observed, your hand landing teasingly on his thigh “Gotta say, I’m kinda jealous” 

Maybe it was the booze of the few drinks you had had, maybe it was the fact that he smelled like morning dew, or maybe he was just ridiculously hot and you had started to get horny a while ago, but all this banter and laughing had gotten to you, and you were curious about what could happen next, or if he had the same interest in taking you home, hell, taking you at all. 

Yunho, smart and experienced as he was, picked up on the signal real quick, his eyes darkened at the prospect of having you, and if he was honest with himself, he’d rather that be sooner than later. 

“Well, we can’t have such a beautiful lady’s heart filled with such a nefarious feeling” he said as he took your hand and gently brought it up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. “Shall we move this somewhere else?” 

Follow him to the alley Follow him back to his home

[ladyofrosefire]

fuck it, bg3 companions shower routine

Shadowheart: Shar hates self-care, but a Shadowheart does take pride in her hair, and a Shadowheart who has learned to be kind to herself can indulge. Long, complicated hair routine, very specific water temperature, and a tendency toward long-ass depression showers. LOVES a bubble bath and will make a whole event of it with flower petals and candles just for her. Will bring a book with a little book tray and a glass of wine.

Astarion: Similarly complicated hair routine. Gotta hydrate the curls, and being dead does not do nice things to your hair. Less prone to standing there staring at nothing while the horrors set in, but prone to scrubbing too hard. Similarly fond of a bubble bath, although without the book or flowers, although he will fuck with an essential oil heater and likes to make his own blends.

Lae'zel: Queen of the 4 minute shower. She has been accused of not even waiting for the water to heat up, but she likes it blistering. Does not actually use 3-in-1, thank you. Having fairly short hair helps. She finds the other companions baffling. Would get bored in a bubble bath unless she had company (rubber duck counts).

Wyll: Sings. If someone called him on it, he would be embarrassed, the first time, for about a minute. Neither wildly efficient nor inclined to standing there for ages and ages and prefers to shower in the morning. Washing his hair is a chance to relax and take care of himself, although before he has his family back, it can be a bit melancholy. He has fallen asleep in the bath before. I feel like he'd love a bath bomb and he'd love the full romantic evening with candles and flowers and music.

Karlach: Please, please someone boil her. Once she gets her engine fixed all the way, she tries a cold shower just to remember what it feels like and keeps up a running commentary about how much it sucks while also not turning up the temperature. Absolutely loves sharing a shower with someone and will also sing. Should not attempt her little jig on wet tiles. May try anyway. Someone should introduce her to proper hair/skin care because if anyone is using 3-in-1, I'm sorry, it's Karlach. Genuinely cannot sit still for a bubble bath unless she has company to cuddle.

Gale: Voted Faerun's Most Likely to Relitigate Arguments in the Shower, Even if He Won Originally. Loves to pamper himself, canonically, loves a spa day, also canonically. You simply are not getting the bathroom back for a good hour, although not all that time involves running water. Plays around with different products and researches the living hell out of everything. Loves a long soak. The only person with a feline in their house to ever bathe in peace. Constantly torn between wanting a book with him when he has a bath and not wanting to get the pages steamy and damp, much less actually wet.

Minthara: Her ideal hair wash involves someone else doing it for her while also having the utmost certainty that the person will not attempt to murder her. If her partner washes her hair for her, she turns into a puddle. She has an incredibly specific lineup of products. If she shares, understand that she has bestowed upon you a great gift. More about bath salts than bubbles and could be persuaded to a sufficiently elegant bath bomb (it would not be a difficult check).

Halsin: Low-flow showerhead user. Hell, he might be the kind of person to turn the water off entirely when not soaking/rinsing out his hair... However, he is not immune to the "shower together to save water" line even though he KNOWS it doesn't work that way. He needs low-scent soaps/etc considering his heightened sense of smell. And listen, this man does not fit in a bathtub unless he goes somewhere special or finds a particularly large one. He made everyone floaty ducks, properly sealed against water damage, and he has one for himself that holds his soap.

Jaheira: Understands that having a chair in the shower is just being kind to yourself and proceeds accordingly. Will revisit arguments she had that day, but despite that has a quick and fairly simple routine. She needs the water pressure to pound the everloving hell out of her back. Loofa on a stick user. Like Wyll, she has fallen asleep in a bathtub, in part thanks to having and using a bath cushion. Truly, the expert on bath-based comfort.

Minsc: Also sings in the shower. LOUDLY. Boo is allowed to sit a shelf out of the way. The best way to get him to use lotion is to give him something that smells yummy. He has similar problems to Halsin regarding fitting in bathtubs. He tries anyway. He has been banned from at least one hotspring for doing a cannonball.

[tiny-pretty-sana]

gf mina | headcanons

warning: nsfw content (+18), men and minors dni

sfw

mina is synonym of elegance, serenity and beauty. being by her side feels like watching the waves crashing on the shore when the sea is calm during a sunset. 

she is shy with a serious appearance and elegant, controlled mannerisms, all of which together can give an impression of her that is far from reality.

she is a quiet person, she demonstrates more through her actions than with her words. but if it’s something she’s passionate about you can hear her talk for long.

when she is ready and voices what she thinks or how she feels, she does it just as she is, calmly and elegantly. even when she demands something it doesn’t sound like it and you just feel the need to listen to her.

she's not oblivious to the effect she has on people and especially on you, she will demand your attention in subtle but effective ways. she knows what makes you weak.

your first impression of her is that she was sexy but cold and mysterious, it turns out she is the definition of “loser trapped in a hot girl's body”.

she's a nerd. she loves video games, knows the names of too many pokémon, watches superhero movies, recreates poses of anime characters and builds legos that she then puts in display cases. 

when you started going on dates you noticed she seemed too focused on something and you felt something was off. turns out she was a bit self conscious of her walking. 

time passed and soon enough she stopped hiding her penguin like walking around you.

her love language is gift giving, but also acts of service.

you do whatever she asks (or commands), but she is always there for whatever you need. whether it's to help you, to be by your side or to do it for you.

she isn’t a romantic person, although she does romantic things. expect to receive bouquets of your favorite flowers, stuffed animals, the snacks you like the most, something she has crocheted or made.

for your birthdays, anniversaries or valentine's day she won't post anything on social media or do anything that other people can see. you like to celebrate things privately.

mina's favorite dates are the ones that include going to a nice restaurant, a bakery shop, eating ice cream or trying new food. no matter what you do, food is a must. 

when you don't stay home with a nice wine, home-cooked meal or take out to watch a movie or play video games you enjoy quiet dates. 

you go to the movies, go to a museum, the aquarium, botanical garden or shopping so she can indulge in her hobbies.

when you go shopping together she stuns you when she tries on clothes and the next minute she's dragging you through the whole store to show you a minecraft tshirt. 

the gifts mina gives you are things you like and will use. if she gives you jewelry it's nice, but also something you can wear in your everyday activities. and another day she might give you an overpriced toaster in your favorite color. 

mina is the kind of person you have to take care of and make sure she eats on time and drinks water. if she has a new game or building a big lego set, you have to remind her to take breaks and go to bed. 

she is a homebody and sometimes you have to drag her out of her home but a promise to grab some food and a few kisses will do the trick.

when situations in her life, work or your relationship overwhelm her, her way of dealing with it is to walk away. 

she is learning to count on you and understand that she is not a bother, but it can be hard to break out of old habits.

mina is a private person. she won't say she loves you out loud or kiss you in public. instead she gives you affection in subtle ways to let you know she is there for you. 

she follows you with her eyes, feeds you, slides her hands between yours, places her hand on your thigh, or keeps her hand on your lower back while you talk. 

she sometimes gets overwhelmed in big crowds or when meeting new people, when this happens she clings onto you.

she is not jealous at all, she is very confident in herself and also in you. she knows she has you hooked.

in private she's all over you. she’s really affectionate and touchy once she lets herself go, sometimes she sits on your lap while she plays or will ask you to straddle her while she’s gaming on the computer.

nsfw

once again her calmness and quietness may give you the wrong impression of her. mina is not innocent at all, it didn't take you long to realize it.

sex with her is passionate, intimate and fun, but also dirty and rough. behind closed doors you get to see the less elegant, soft and collected version of mina. 

mina gives herself to you whether she is in control or not. and you have no choice but to give her everything she needs, no matter if she begs for it or demands it.

to put it in another way, mina bottoms most of the time.

she knows how hot she is and she knows she has you wrapped around her finger. she knows exactly what words to use and how to touch you to get exactly what she wants from you.

she's a tease. it doesn't matter if you're in public or private because she'll find the way.

her gestures, her touches or the way she looks at you may go unnoticed by others, but you know perfectly well the intentions behind them, however subtle they may be. 

when you’re at home she wears obscenely short clothes, she purposely raises her arms until her t-shirt slides up showing her abs or bends over to give you a perfect view of her ass. 

she enjoys teasing you but it’s even easier to tease her since she’s horny most of the time. a look, a few words and a suggestive gesture would have her blushing, looking avoiding your eyes and squeezing her thighs together.

you let her misbehave all she wants because it's not like you can punish her. she loves to be spanked, being edged or whatever you come up with.

she will use pet names rather than titles with you (unless you tell her). however, if you use them with her, especially the ones she has taught you in japanese, she becomes putty in your hands

mina is kinky, a freak, a pervert… you name it. she has so many kinks that you’re still finding out and she’s willing to try so many things. that includes bdsm dynamics

once you called her a pervert to tease her but it just turned her on. 

she’s both into praising and degradation, she can’t help it when she just loves getting any type of attention from you. 

she enjoys degradation, humiliation and sadism. for these she enjoys being the receiving end more but when she's in a certain mood she doesn't hesitate to inflict it. 

she also enjoys bondage, impact play, temperature/sensation play and wax play among others.

she likes to try new positions and take advantage of her flexibility but nothing compares to having you eating her out while she plays. 

she has a staring problem, she can't take her eyes off you, your chest or any exposed skin. you don't miss the opportunity to remind her “my eyes are higher up” just to see her reaction.

this does not only happen with you, but also with other people. that's why she doesn’t get jealous even though she's possessive. truly she also gets turned on by the idea of you catching her.

to be fair, years of doing ballet makes you notice other women too much and it's not even a sexual thing, unlike her oral fixation. 

you have no complaints when she puts her oral fixation to good use whether it's with your breasts, putting her between your legs or making her suck the strap.

you can expect anything from her. one day she's wearing a beautiful lingerie set to surprise you and the next day you pull her pants down and find some minecraft boxers

mina has a collection of sex toys that she loves you to use on her, most of them she also uses by herself. dildos, vibrators, whips, paddles, handcuffs, plugs, ropes...this does not only happen with you, but also with other people.

she orders them online but she made an exception of going to a specialized store to get you a leather collar with your name engraved in a silver tag.

mina is always quiet, so during sex it's not much different as long as she's in a more submissive and needy headspace. she'll let out the most adorable breathy moans and whimpers. but if she’s being dominant... she will talk you through it, guide you and bossing you around

it can get rough when she asks for it. in these cases she is the one who needs the most aftercare, but even then she asks you if you are ok and makes you know that she enjoyed it. during the whole aftercare process, she gets shy and hides in the crook of your neck.