#she has an eye for what would suit them and she likes to indulge her fantasies

[mental69er]

Okay but the thought of Victoria Neuman falling in love with the reader who is a retired ballerina that teaches lessons but is also Zoe's ballet teacher and favorite ballerina before they retired has been bouncing around in my brain.

content: sfw, ballerina reader, fluff piece, short

You only knew her as Zoe's mother. The put together woman in designer suits that picked up her daughter in a black car with a driver that opened the doors for them.

You didn't bother to inquire about what she did for work. Her face was plastered all over the TVs as elections drew near. A lot of your clients were wealthy or famous, bringing their children to you to learn ballet.

You had been a prodigy in it, learning dance moves before you could even form a proper sentence. Your rise to fame and acclaim had been fast, skyrocketing you into the stratosphere before it all came crashing down. Ballet was not easy on the body, especially not on such a young one that was still developing.

It was why you had to retire professionally, only teaching the occasional ballet class if there were enough clients on the roster. Still, you were quite famous and it wasn't odd that many in the upper echelons knew who you were.

What was odd though, was Victoria's interest in you.

You specifically did not stay and chat with parents, knowing they were busy, or wanting to avoid the general superficiality in which these people operated. Victoria always went out of her way to talk to you after class was over, or if she could catch you alone, before class.

Her questions were kind, polite, and yet her eyes were probbing. Undressing you, trying to dive in your mind and understand you. It wasn't the first time you'd seen hunger like this on another's face, her's was merely better guarded. When you had been younger, less broken, many men had wanted you like their own personal doll.

You had never given in. But it had been years since you'd last felt prized, like you weren't an old discarded toy.

Still, you were wary. Carefully dancing around her flirations and inquisitive nature, waiting her out until Zoe's lessons would end for the semester.

With each gradual passing week, you could see Victoria becoming more and more frustrated by her lack of progress. The woman was hell bent on getting closer to you.

"You know, I used to want to be a ballerina too."

You couldn't help but arch an eyebrow in shock. "Really?"

"I was a bit too rooted in my major in college to suddenly switch to it. But I did wonder what it would be like to move with such grace, with such passion as you did." She said, chuckling warmly to herself. "You move your body so well." The last part was said in a slightly lower tone that had your stomach flipping.

"Zoe ended up watching some of your performances and wanted to try ballet too. I couldn't deny her it the same way I denied myself. And now here we are," Victoria said.

"Here we are, " you repeated.

"You should give Zoe private lessons," she said, and you knew what she was angling for. It was all a cover to have you without the distractions of others.

"I don't do private lessons."

"You should. I pay alot," Victoria said, tone turning serious. Her brown eyes were fixated on you and she stepped in closer. You couldn't find it in you to step back. "Think about it." She took out a card from her inner pocket. You took it and she stepped away, going back to her car where Zoe was waiting for her.

You sighed. This looked to be Victoria's private number on the card. You thumbed it thoughtfully and watched as her car pulled away.

Did you dare indulge in the president elect's whims?

[hydrachea]

I can't stop thinking about Blade saying gifts are unfamiliar.

And I can't stop thinking about Kafka and Silver Wolf, hearing that, and making it a mission to bring him gifts whenever they travel somewhere for their script - even if he's there with them. About the confusion in his eyes when they steal buy something and turn right around to hand it to him.

About his room starting out completely empty except for the bare minimum necessities, a few spare clothes and what he needs to take care his Shard Sword, but filling up with little trinkets and gifts over time. Clothes and jewelry and perfume from Kafka and posters, figures and plushies from Silver Wolf. About them also bringing food back, expensive specialties swiped from a restaurant and the weirdest option they could spot in a lone vending machine, a category of gifts that doesn't leave anything behind (except the photos they both take of the three of them eating together, or of the faces he makes when Silver Wolf manages to trick him into trying a suspicious snack while he's distracted with polishing his weapon).

About Kafka spending hours finding clothes and jewelry she thinks would suit him, because that's her love language. She gets him makeup too, refusing to let his good looks go to waste. She knows he can't put it on himself, they both do, and he doesn't care for his appearance enough otherwise - but he'll let her do his makeup for him anyway, because she enjoys it, and because he finds it soothing.

About Silver Wolf also buying him clothes, but the ones she gets aren't his style at all, and just barely his size. She gets them for him, but just so she can steal them right back - her love language is quality time, and she fills Blade's room with gifts she can borrow along with a moment of his day. It still counts as a gift, she insists, practically swimming in an oversized jacket she swiped from his closet.

About how in another life, Yingxing gave gifts to the people he loved and in this one, Blade receives them from those who love him.

[coweye]

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice. 

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was. 

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot. 

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired. 

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face. 

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her. 

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised. 

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features. 

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully. 

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling. 

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red. 

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man. 

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry. 

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.  

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits. 

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?” 

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed. 

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping. 

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline. 

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers. 

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted. 

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet. 

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists. 

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.” 

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp. 

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?” 

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form. 

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue. 

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now.  “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-” 

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily. 

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other. 

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion.  “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that. 

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground. 

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind. 

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him. 

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy. 

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you. 

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead. 

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do. 

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip. 

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura. 

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan. 

He’s just Logan. 

You bury yourself deeper in his neck. 

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut. 

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs. 

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?” 

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you. 

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back. 

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not. 

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue. 

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter.  He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his. 

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.  

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist. 

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart. 

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you. 

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close. 

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve. 

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him. 

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him. 

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional. 

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he. 

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth. 

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-” 

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you. 

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch. 

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth. 

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast. 

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole. 

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin. 

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it. 

 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach. 

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin. 

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard. 

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy. 

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you. 

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers. 

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go. 

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does. 

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing. 

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably. 

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down. 

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh. 

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection. 

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again. 

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind. 

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence. 

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched. 

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“AGH!”  Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you. 

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend. 

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous.  Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands. 

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you.  Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?” 

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously. 

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest. 

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different. 

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours. 

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back. 

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

SEUMYO © 2024. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[buckyalpine]

I love Bucky loving his body. I love Bucky loved by the team. I love Bucky having his happy ending with a family. Imagine Bucky lounging around the sofa with his little baby girl tucked in his arm, her sweet face covered in frosting after smothering half of her cupcake onto her cheeks. The icing is bright red just like Tony's suit and it's his birthday party afterall, so everything is in full swing. Most of the cupcake is squished between her fingers, very little actually making it into her mouth but Bucky doesn't mind. He chuckles, watching her with heart eyes as she happily smears it onto his crisp white shirt, babbling and cooing, now sucking her thumb.

He is absolutely unbothered by this, all he sees is his happy little baby with her cheeky smile licking up all the frosting just like her mama. While Bucky couldn't care less about his shirt, a few others certainly did.

"Better get dunk that shirt into a bucket of tide pens Barnes" Clint snorted.

"Actually the quicker you get it off, the less likely it is to stain. Take it off now" Tony's voice went from fatherly advice to a seductive growl making Bucky's face twist in amusement, pink starting to color his cheeks.

"Yeah, give the little munchkin to y/n and take it off. Cause of the stain" Nat agreed, cocking an eyebrow. You giggled watching the scene unfold before you, your husband growing bashfully shy.

"Can't hurt punk" Steve shrugged and Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head until he realized his best friend had been nursing a rather large glass of Asgardian mead. Tipsy Steve was always a little bit of a pervert...

"I-

"For the stain"

"I think you just want me to take my shirt off" Bucky huffed while you grinned, giving his cheek a peck before taking your little princess in your arms.

"Can't blame them handsome, c'mon, show em' how lucky I am" you whisper and that sells it. Couldn't hurt and since they were all asking...

"Just take it off!" Nat howled with a wink, a bunch of whistles when Bucky sighed, indulging the team a little. He unbuttons his shirt and hands it off to a genuinely concerned Sam who would normally make sure the shirt got sent to the cleaners but this is too good so he throws it into a bucket of cold water and is back within seconds.

"Good God"

"Jesus"

"You look fuckin' good terminator"

"Alright, alright" Bucky holds his hands up, unable to stop the way his ears are bright red, shaking his head when you blow him a kiss making him blush more.

"Body shots!"

"What?"

"Yes"

Tony's eyes glimmer with excitement, and Bucky snorts, loving the way you egg him on, his daughter also squealing with excitement.

"Go on Sarge, y'know you look good"

He lies down on the bar table, surrounded by just the team, abs beautifully flexed as Nat pours a generous amount of some type of alcohol right on his belly button.

"When else will we get this lucky" She says with a playful smirk while Steve cracks his knuckles.

"Why are you cracking your knuckles, what the hell do you plan on-

"ME FIRST" He doesn't give anyone a chance, face planting himself into Bucky's tummy, his lips sealed, drinking every bit of the burning liquor with a satisfied hum.

"How much has he had to drink"

"Who cares, me next"

"I think you've licked enough of my husband"

"You get him all the time, don't be greedy"

"That cute little chubby ball of frosting and giggles is enough evidence you get him every which way, besides isn't there another one cooking, y'can't have any now git"

"Blink twice if you need help"

"Bro looks like an angel"

"Why aren't you blinking"

"Crafted by the heavens"

"You like this, don't you"

Bucky can't help but chuckle, surrounded by idiots. Drunk idiots. His wife. His baby girl. Another little one on the way. All who love him. Would protect him. Life was good.

[bitdemonic]

ᛪ༙ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

𝟓 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒. 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐋, 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐓. 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃, 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐌𝐄. ⚠︎ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄—𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓. 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒; 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𓆩ψ𓆪 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [𝐊𝐎𝐅𝐈]

↓

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈 𓆩❦︎𓆪

WHAT’S SEDUCTIVE IN GENERAL ⟶ 🎴 Magic. 8oS. 10oP↺. Faith↺. Page of Pentacles↺. the Chariot. 8oW↺ [bod].

THE TEMPTATION, OTHERWISE A TEMPTRESS TO SUITORS THAT “DARE” TO INDULGE; TO MEET A FATE THAT’S FORBID. Attributes include the ability to lure their 'prey' in with just a glance, emanating tenacious sensuality, and exhibiting divinity [energetically]. Poison with legs, seeping into the thoughts of anyone's minds. Heightened emotional intelligence assists them in hypnotizing others. Seduction is an accessory, a mask of sex they can put on [“and off”] at anytime.

♰♰♰ An innate power of transformation is what this pile has. Able to demand ("command") a room with just their presence, let alone a word, they're perceived as the Magician; resourceful, magical, and opulent. Something of them is practical, as in they're adept to the metaphysical and what it may offer. LOA, glamour (or "sex") magick, visualization and scripting are familiar concepts. Witchcraft is a part of them, as it could've been passed down or learned ["through lineage"]. Genetic gifts that assist their "urges", or more importantly their fantasies. Non-conforming, unconventional ways and ideal (as they are the same). At most, this pile's aura feels mystical, untouchable and otherworldly. This kind of force can be turned off and on; felt by everyone, seen by none. Will attract "watchers" i.e. stalkers online or in real life. ♰♰♰ "Too hot to touch”; very tempting group here, even more so when they're done up to "play the part". Sensing that red, ginger (or “orange”) hair can emphasize their burn (fire). Hot! An edgier aesthetic suits them better than most, as if their mystique abruptly magnified. Deeper colors (maroon, black, and “dark blue”), smokey eyes, and smudged glitter are enhancers. Channeling woodsier scents? A scent including this note could melt into Pile One’s pheromones; they’re sensible and protective. Confidence within them is grounded, gives off older and mature. Faces contradict the assertiveness tho, some people of Pile Two have cherubic features (e.g. button nose, fat cheeks) which offers up an illusion of innocence.

LONGTERM CONNECTIONS ARE PRONE TO COME ABOUT, DUE TO CAPTURING LOVERS IN THEIR WEB. It's more of being bound than being "in love", and that's because Pile One doesn't leave them alone until Pile One says so; a pulley system only they control. At worst, this is a manipulation tactic in the hands of a former ["serial"] cheater, unless Pile One has evolved and grown out those ways. Trapped in a trance, pulled along a thin string, kept in an unopened box; partners don't conceptualize self-value when Pile One's not there. This as a scenario would be the equivalent of man pleading on his knees and to the world for his girl, like the music videos. Someone that’ll die for querent, feeling nothing but raging love. How Ari professes while admitting she’s been an anxious mess, “completely disheveled” and still wanting to appease “you” is how Pile One’s partners are.

♰♰♰ Samantha Jones in SATC is who they remind me of. Similar to her, Pile One prioritizes self-maintenance [and self-pleasure] before anyone else. Discarding dinner date plans for a night alone instead, opting out of fling appointments to mingle with friends, etc. "I gotta put myself first," "hasta la vista," and "me time" sum them up to a tee. Hesitating between shoe selection versus before asking someone to get out of bed and leave; to them partners are disposable, replaceable. Not #1 [because that's reserved for themselves], but the very bottom of the list instead. Mindset of an Earth sign, Virgo (Moon or 1H) in particular—"mother knows best". It's attractive that someone won't accept less than what they've done for themselves [already], they impress themselves. The shiniest trophy, but nobody possesses them. ♰♰♰ Querents of this pile are equipped to handle the world (plus obstacles) with a step in the right direction. I always reference "the phoenix rising from the ashes" when there's strength of a warrior present, which applies now. Pain, challenges, disruptions—there's nothing that can keep Pile One from achieving. Seduction for them stems from a "broken" place, where they shaped a future out of dust. It's possible no one gets them, but that's due to their truth being concealed. These are people that can't be read (especially at face value), they're meant to be discovered. Learned.

WHAT’S SEDUCTIVE IN BED ⟶ 🎴 7oW. King of Wands. 8oP. 6oC↺. Knight of Cups. 4oS [bod].

BECOMING THE MINX, “JUST LIKE MAGIC” IS A NOD ANOTHER SIDE OF THE SAME COIN; TWO HALVES OF ONE PERSON. The act of illusion is apparent, and it's potent within sexual circumstance. Skills, body, "sexuality" are magic, enough to arouse fascination in others. Ariana Grande's music portrays this visage perfectly, because Ariana is the embodiment of dual personalities. Innocent and unsuspecting until she's slipping a sexual innuendo beside her harmonies; a natural tease, because this is who she already is.

♰♰♰ In terms of sex, this pile is more prone to leading the encounter; the HBIC. How the momentum's pace is on your timing, how nothing ends or begins until Pile One's call. The demand of their instruction is seductive, it keeps "everyone" in line. Control may lessen, although it'll never fully leave. Granted, a limited amount of time to "disobey" is earned; to switch roles and have Pile One as a sub, get a taste of their authority. Seconds of pride that count towards a rush, a high that they'll only get with her, up until time's over and it's Pile One's turn once more. ♰♰♰ Not so much BDSM, but punishment is seductive; being spanked, "bit" (otherwise marked), and reprimanded. It's plausible that mama's boys or daddy's girls are prone to being on the other end—"under their hand"—because discipline isn't common. Getting told no, following directions and staying "put" keep their attitude together, something they're not used to. Pile One has bitches [or "pets"] lol. Degradation, using a condescending tone, edging and orgasm denial is a favorite.

PILE ONE’S PHYSIQUE, OR “CURVATURE” IS A HIGHLIGHT FOR THEIR PARTNERS. Their shape can resemble a peach, plump at the top and luscious at the bottom (otherwise supple breast and a soft ass). "Freakum" dresses can be a closet staple, especially when it's for a special night out—whenever they're ready to get (or "have") their way. Dipping in dark, brooding colors will heighten the allure, turn up the effect. Norma Jean's tactic to become Marilyn Monroe comes to mind, how she was able to shift: "I don’t know how to explain what she did because it was so very subtle, but she turned something on within herself that was almost like magic." "They were recognizing that this was Marilyn Monroe...even though a second ago nobody noticed her.”

♰♰♰ Clothing is a specialty and particularly when it's "coming off " (or "coming down"). Stripping out of them, dropping each piece to expose another stretch of skin; strip teases or showing off the birthday suit. This pile's lingerie should consist of lacy, sheer material such as wearing fishnets or leg garters (any form of tights tbh). The price of what they wear is attractive. It brings about this air of expensiveness, as in their aura is wealthy—abundant, self-assured and reliable. It traces back into the bedroom for sure, people can feel their income rise in just one night. Querents have the universal cheat code of being gifted ("being spoiled") in romantic connections (e.g. shopping trips and cash deposits). It's a favor for one, exchanging "secret" treasures. ♰♰♰ Pretty distinct, but tone of voice is being [heavily] highlighted; “vocal cords” are on the smoother side? Soothing almost, channeling that they’ve spoken people to sleep. Reminiscent of rum, in both taste and “singe” (wincing at the burn). Rugged (another Joel Miller reference, some querents are Southern); can hold weighted conversations with a voice full of conviction. Lol at the number of people that pine after this pile from their charm alone. “Just like magic, I’m attractive” and getting everything you want cus’ you attract it is about Pile One’s social interactions. Grounding a room with just a few sentences then flirting with everyone standing in it, golden gift for duality. Networking is quintessential considering it's one of this pile's skills; cue the stack of business cards they'd have gotten from exchanging contact information (huge).

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐒.

♡⃕ A kink for teeth and biting, both them and their partners. Into biting, getting bit on the lip and skin ["until it's tender"]. Sun, Mars, or Pluto could be in mutable signs [Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces] or houses [3H, 7H, 9H, 12H]. Scorpio/8H placements included.

♡⃕ Radiant". Beaming from the inside out, immersing the world in a glorious shine. Querents are on the friendlier side or possess the traits of "everyone's best friend". Big ole gummy smiles; a toothy grin. Friend of the world, can communicate with babies (children) and animals. Bunnies as a favorite animal [or "nickname"].

♡⃕ Find joy in mischief or getting a rise out of people; the jester of their friends or family (especially cousins). Pulling stunts to scare others, harmless pranks, and cracking jokes to lighten the mood at all times. Father could have the prankster gene hence why it's recognized. Def some home celebrities, family oriented querents for sure. Thanksgiving or New Years as a favorite holiday, too.

♡⃕ "Taut" RBF's, lips could form into a thin line on many occasions. Furrowing brows whenever they're driving home a point, prone to getting into "spats" or disputes (i.e. argumentative). Could hate banter, but revel in conflict; adrenaline rushes during confrontation(s). Intelligence is golden during debate conversations if tense. Bilingual/trilingual; native language from places of birth. Anais from Gumball in terms of frustration or attitude. Could have Virgo or Aries in personal (or outer) planets.

♡⃕ Really fiery, like it's all in this reading. "Quick", not doing things before or *after* thinking (i.e. regretting impulsive decisions). Cussing; swearing a lot or while chewing someone out. "Off the rails." Although full throttle, anxiety ("anxiousness") or bad nerves get in their way often. Bass boosted, loud volume, headbanging music as it compliments their vigor. 'TYG' from Megan thee Stallion & Spiritbox.

♡⃕ "Cupid bow lips". Bottom lip being plumper than the top; "fuller". Beauty mole(s) on the face or chin, above the mouth too. Using white lip liner or concealer for a signature makeup look ("added touch"). Distinct characteristics pertaining the face; statement piece [earrings, eye makeup, hair accessories].

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈 𓆩❦︎𓆪

WHAT’S SEDUCTIVE IN GENERAL ⟶ 🎴 Reflection. King of Cups. Knight of Wands↺. Happiness. Queen of Cups. 9oP↺. 4oS [bod].

THE LOVER GIRL IS A HOPELESS ROMANTIC, A PERSON THAT’S ENCOMPASSED TO THE BELIEF OF HAVING [THEIR] TRUE LOVE. "Hopelessly devoted to you," comes to mind, a song that expresses the inner monologue this pile has ["everyday"]. Relationships can become a lifeline, a means of preservation in time of need; love is taken quite seriously, even more so if it's reciprocated. It's attractive to feel appreciated, yearned and cared for by Pile Two's energy; willing to share however many pieces of their heart if it’s necessary.

♰♰♰ Bubbly personality keeps this pile from being detected, the wide smiles and "softly glazed" eyes adds onto innocence. People can sense there's something more, carnal energy that's held from unleashing. I feel that there's Cancerian-Libran placements because the perception of them reminds me of pink bows and sugarplums. Cute, but only because their deviance is hidden ["in plain sight"]. "Naughty Girl" by Beyonce. There's more to them than meets the eye, as it's tempting others to come taste or try (lots of probing one's sexual identity can occur). ♰♰♰ Alchemy is a curated, learned skill and it's Pile Two's way to the Universe. Tumultuous rebirths are recurring, made to "force" them into shape; changing course throughout their journey is attractive. Learning and applying hard lessons in order to receive whatever they wish for. An enigma is how they're perceived, someone that's checked out when they're not immersed in another world. Going through—or "experiencing"—transformations will affect their overall appearance. Erasing an identity from the past, embracing change for a clean slate, shedding skin with hair and clothing. Their presence leaves people's blood rushing.

HIGHLY EMOTIONALLY INTELLIGENT, THEY CAN FIND THEMSELVES LONGING FOR HEIGHTENED SENSE OF AFFECTION IN OTHERS. An emptiness can rest inside them, but it's just because they're familiar with vulnerability; an "open book" if it pertains their feelings, being the only person who gets them. Honesty is a fault, because it allows the truth to be set "free". Human embodiment of the Justice card, their Judgement can sever or repair the lives ("energies") of those around. 222 and 333 are angel numbers that indicate progression in life or to urge use of discernment. "Put themselves first."

♰♰♰ Euphoric essence around their beauty, how it's a gift for their highest form. It's special—a beautiful blessing in physical features. Plush lips, "rosy" undertone(s), pleasant figure and "fleshy" areas (hips, thighs, love handles). Someone that's mesmerizing, the embodiment of Aphrodite's pearl; the birth of beauty. Shapeshifting is likely, as they've earned it with the help from above ("the ethers"). Staying true to what's on the inside and having it bloom on the outside. Dreams in human form. Being noticed [and "adorned"] for their innocence, in personality or facial features. Big, sparkly, animated eyes and "sooty" lashes; resembling Betty Boop; the fattest chipmunk cheeks (can insinuate someone's ass) and so on. ♰♰♰ Intention on Pile Two's end shows up in an authoritative sense, when they insert themselves it's because they're tired of the bullshit. Eerily similar to that of a "headmaster", otherwise strictness is a part of their love language. Coddling will only get someone so far, lol this pile's upfront; blunt, but respectful [simultaneously]. This pile won't allow people to run and duck from their problems, only "showing" the option to face them. Those same people are awakened to their fears, abilities, and unnatural desires; they've been found, truly seen. Making people sit up straight and pay attention; "IDGAF if I was late" ie. no one but Pile Two can check them like this. That spunkiness is a treasure alone, but especially cherished for stemming from "unaltered" independence. Praise and worshipping kinks could be prevalent during encounters.

WHAT’S SEDUCTIVE IN BED ⟶ 🎴 3oS. Ace of Cups↺. 6oS. King of Pentacles. Death. 7oC [bod].

DISARMING PEOPLE WITH CHARM—ALOOFNESS—REMAINS KEY, A COMPONENT THAT OFFERS THE BEST SURPRISE. Playing coy, twiddling thumbs or tucking hair ("biting it" too), it's a game that this pile wins easily. Nobody expects this from Pile Two, not in the slightest because they're too kind. Gentle and 'maternal', nimble like a baby mouse. On the surface, that is. I'm envisioning the slow drip of a faucet, or the articulation of a cat's paw steps—steady [and deliberate]. This energy reminds me of honey while it drizzles, erotic and warm. This pile's *so* sensual, and it drives a lottttttttt of people insane ("up the walls"). Feline, otherwise 'tactful', energies are present; acquiring or possessing skills in seduction. Mastery in peep shows, teases, and dances for sure. Mastery in peep shows, teases, and dances for sure. "We can't just keep talking about it, I want you to come inside it...I want to get wild" insinuates romantic partners don't want to wait, that they're in the mood anytime they see querent.

♰♰♰ Provocative is the best word for this group, they're able to control a room with little to no motion (unless it's on top <3). Can move mountains, crush stone, with nothing but a toe point; very powerful people. Pheromones alone are even enough, it's the sheer nature of it all, this pile's addictive. They may find that their sexual encounters will include overstimulation or force (i.e. domination) because lovers aren't capable of holding it in. Losing coherency, spiraling in Pile Two's "abyss" ("going the extra mile"). Essentially, lovers that'll believe in the red string theory after just one time together. It shocks anyone that's graced a chance to get in bed, the sexual influence is mind warping. ♰♰♰ Orgasms come super easily ("almost naturally") when given from them. Their technique(s) to have someone cumming are "sensational", soul touching and tear producing (I smell Scorpio and 12H placements lol). Definitely bestowed with the "magic touch"; skills that beckon one's climax forth. The Enchantress. People reach different heights with them, a "new peak"—reborn for existence ["again"]. People have revelations and awakenings in bed with Pile Two, in which can come about in a matter of minutes or after one orgasm (in other words, tread this force of a skill lightly). Obsessive behavior is prone to arise, 99.8% that it will, because people won't get enough. Querents knowledge on ecstasy is beyond teaching, so much that I sense it's spiritual; an "antidote" for those who aren't "well" (i.e. in heat and addicted).

BEING COINED AS 'THE BEST' SOMEONE'S EVER HAD IS TIED DIRECTLY TO BEING WORTH THE CHASE. Not that this group's only good or made for sex, more so being an expert in that department adds to their prestige. It's giving public reputation, one that's good or possibly envied; 10H prominence. King of Pentacles is the emblem of high social standing, respect and utmost value; the spread itself clarifies the admiration of Pile Two from different POVs. May mirror the 'WAG effect', but with them as the celebrity and their partner the wife. Double confirmation for emulating a cat, this is their ownership and haughtiness lmao. Wouldn't be surprised if it was obvious that querents wears ["and buys"] the pants in romantic connections, I even sense being worshipped by choice—love's in a glass case for the public to see. May mirror the "WAG effect", but Pile Two isn't the wife (they're the "breadwinner").

♰♰♰ Physique is coming in similar to Pile One (check it out if called), more pronunciation on the upper half tho. The breasts (chest) are "opulent", so possibly on the fuller cup side or give off an illusion (i.e. being big). "Full moon" is what I'm channeling which gives off that their breasts hold the emphasis on moon; Cancer placements (Sun, Moon, Mars), weightier feel, stretch marks or birthmarks across (or around) them. "Pushup bra", meaning that area is noticeable. Anatomy aside, breasts equate to maternal characteristics. Being domestic, caring for those around them, owning an apartment and a dog—signs that potential partners associate to good parenting. "With child". Breeding and having babies/getting this pile pregnant are major fantasies because they carry the imagery of how a "mother" should be. ♰♰♰ The softest people are in this pile and not just referring to vibes; skin, hair, lips, and legs are reminiscent of warm butter (which can point to glowing). I see the definition of radiance within their regime. Wearing whipped scents and perfumes of dreams, they kiss every room with succulence. A mango of a person, each part of them quenching people's thirst. Softness also indicates being a safe haven, or "stress relief", [a peace of mind] for close connections in their lives. Lol I'm even imagining a stress ball ("magenta"), like querent is a few people's security blanket. Giving out the best hugs and sweetest smile. Nothing overtly sexual, seduction is their aura. Comforting, dependable [with reason], and trustworthy; characteristics that whisper "this is a good person".

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐒.

♡⃕ Humorous people, like will make an entire room fold under pressure and BOL. "Practical jokester" and "professional yapper". Dragging people along; "jittery" or full of enthusiasm. Big kid as an adult, could even giggle a "ton". Dimples, smile lines, “eye crinkles” are present. Sun could be in cardinal houses [1H, 4H, 7H, 10H].

♡⃕ Oral, both giving and receiving, is a favorite. Mouths are "heated", almost like steamy hot tub water. Head that's slow and deliberate; "toe curling", "sheet gripping". Keeping a lover in place, holding their legs apart or keeping them pinned [for max pleasure]. Learning new techniques, tricks and "treats" for a five star experience. Pluto could be in cardinal houses [1H, 4H, 7H, 10H].

♡⃕ Feeling the same as “bubblegum” pink, having an aura that’s saturated in sugariness. Pinkalicious (brat); getting their way in love and not having to do much in return. Pink skin after getting spanked, undertones that show "flush". "Sweetest Pie" by Megan thee Stallion & Dua Lipa (similar vibes). Skill in baking or treats ("top notch"), confectionary sugar. Using their goods as [or "for"] a temporary love spell.

♡⃕ Goodhearted with a 'girl/boy next door' quality, would be a TV show's comfort character [otherwise most popular]. Happiness evokes the distinction of the ✨ emoji; "higher frequencies." Eloquence of Disney princesses or princes; "ain't no sunshine when she's gone." Transmuting pain, turning it into better days [or "Good Days" by SZA]. Positive influence, specifically on elders. Singing can be therapeutic and a skill.

♡⃕ Masturbation and alternative self-pleasure tactics can be chronic. Satisfying their needs, practicing affirmative moaning (e.g. moaning out loud and looking in a mirror). Instills confidence with sexuality—revealing clothing, "fiercely" looking makeup (winged liner, "blood" red lips), sexual discipline [on their time]. Can't be tied down, like ever. Has options for different days of the week ("separate occasions"); a playa. Could be Martian (Mars dom).

♡⃕ Maternal instincts and having a knack for domesticity, "family oriented". Dreams of birthing [or raising] children; adopting pets (i.e. owning multiple). Children "flock" to them, feel seen and understood from an adult POV ("trustful"). Dependable to friends. Proficient in babysitting or caretaking the youth; babies and toddlers "favorite person."

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𓆩❦︎𓆪

WHAT’S SEDUCTIVE IN GENERAL ⟶ 🎴 Sadness. the Hermit. Page of Swords. Creativity↺. 7oS↺. Strength. 2oW. 8oS [bod].

BRIGHT DIAMONDS FEEL REVELANT IN COMPARISON TO PILE THREE'S RARITY. On the surface it seems they're forlorn and stoic or repressed and grim. Misunderstood and judged until an opportunity to see all of them arrives; "guarded" but authentic ("100%"). Querents may emulate the solemness in renaissance oil paintings. Given the chance to drop their guard, they'll ease into vulnerability. Not entirely, just enough to witness them relax. It's public knowledge that they're forced to be on [the] edge, and that it's near impossible to get off alone. This pulls people in, as if they're rushing to get closer; want to be querents knight in shining armor. "If I'm worthy enough?" People dream to sought out after this pile's approval, and coming to the realization is sexy.

♰♰♰ Querents of this pile are made of stone. Their energy is immovable, it's not made to crack ["shatter, or break"]. Willow trees make up their intelligence, these are teachers of power (strength and discipline). I see them as "silent, but deadly", as silence ("Hermit mode") is the shield. Saying nothing and knowing it all. Intelligence comes to mind, alluding to mental influence on others. Potential partners could find themselves having an urge to do better; heighten their knowledge, sharpen their skills, complete a craft. Lmao however, Pile Three wouldn't have even told them to go do it, those partners would've done it all by themselves for Pile Three ("just because"). Power is definitely a thriving source here. ♰♰♰ Determinative and empowered, querents are forthcoming regarding goals, ambitions, and accomplishments; success seems to "follow" them, but that's due to it being a source of comfort. Channeling the drive to "succeed" is found in creative or musical pursuits [if not about career]. It's not unheard of that this pile fights to the end of Earth to conquer a triumph (spirit of a warrior). This is perceived seductively as it displays to the world how perseverant they will be; "nothing that can be taken away" because it's what they know how to easily obtain.

THE LYNX WITH A SOLUTION IS HOW THIS PILE IS REPRESENTED TO OTHERS, PLUS ROMANTIC PARTNERS. Unpredictable, braggadocious, reactive, and relentless; characteristics in common as they're shaped from a similar mold. Intuition is a prevalent factor as well, because like a lynx, Pile Three can interpret anyone's energy (i.e. "read the room") and quickly adjust. Watchful gaze and all. Analyzing sceneries has led them into assessment, coined the role of lieutenant. It's prominent for sure, I'm hearing "dictator" as in this is how querents come off. It's "unsettling", but in the way that rolls tingles up your spine. Commanding and directing is attached to them as a personality trait, it's born from their urge to take initiative. Doing things, learning things, attempting things at the drop of a dime and asserting their authority by getting it finished.

♰♰♰ Querents are able to play hot and cold (like the song), inevitably putting people in a box labeled "undetermined"; people don't know where they stand, might not even know how to, just because Pile Three never tells. Like a magician pulling a trick and walking offstage even with the audience unbeknownst to how it worked. "Let me in" is what people scream internally, while jumping through hoops and hell to prove that they're worth the risk. Maximum effort to impress querents, or at the very least get them to "reconsider" dropping their defense. "Lower their expectations", so partners can dream of a real chance. Safe to say that querents are more likely to give "tests" with no thought about reviewing them. ♰♰♰ It's highly plausible that assertion on Pile Three's end is a coverup over their ["raging"] insecurities. Internal, external, mental or physical doubts hide under their reign ("rule"), it's easier for querents to take charge in all areas because they can't control their mind. Before spiraling, before "shutdown" (mass destruction); breathing techniques ("practice") helps level them out when in the midst of breakdowns. Personal lives can be on the brink of crumbling to querents, this is a result of 'unhealthy' home environment(s) as they grew older—interpersonal relationships were likely affected most. Codependency is a result from this unhealed wound ("wounds"), as it feels like something physical will heal the void rather than actual treatment (e.g. therapy). Addiction to sex, substance, work, or gambling is rather prevalent, so seductiveness comes in the form of sinful vices. ♰♰♰ Pile Three was the only group to receive an extra card, which happens to be about making decisions and stepping outside comfort zones [2 of Wands]. I found this interesting considering this pile has trouble taking [and making] leaps of faith, they live by the rule of a schedule (anything outside of that doesn't see light of day fr); someone [according to the number two] could change that. Show them a whole new world outside of expectations, routine, and boredom lmao. What gets querents to open up and breathe for once, that this someone gives them space to register, download, and process; they feel like being alone with the lights off, something Pile Three wouldn't mind sharing with them in real life; "let them in".

WHAT'S SEDUCTIVE IN BED ⟶ 🎴4oC. the Hanged Woman. 10oP. the Devil. 8oW. Death↺ [bod].

CHAMELEONS MARK QUERENTS ALTERNATE IDENTITY ("SPLIT PERSONALITY"), A SIDE OF THEMSELVES THAT ISN'T COMPOSED AND HIDDEN. It feels like the confines of a private party; hair messy, lips smudged, phone lost but the music keeps jumping. They're spinning round and round, pulling whoever's nearby into their circle. This shows in moments of comfort; setting a mood outside of their walls and head. Enjoying themselves to the max and inviting others to unwind also. It is sexy to loosen up and let your hair down, it's a "birthright" to bask in the moment. An outlook on free will that serene is destined for greatness, others can see it. In the bedroom, Pile Three turns the encounter into hotel service; five star rating from all the guests.

♰♰♰ Dominatrix/Dominant is the intensity I'm feeling, querent has the presence of a god. Everything's gone cold, lights are low and silence is near. "Secretary", E. Edward Gray vibes times ten (I even picture them cracking back an extra long whip). Definitely, definitely, definitelyyyy making people become their little sluts—overworking their existence with their own pleasure (woah :P). Indicates incessant teasing ("edging"), praise or punishment, and submission (mentally, physically). "Silence?" coming in could represent the use of rules, or it can be the calm after their partner's orgasm. Shutting down and regenerating all from Pile Three's conditions [e.g. sensory deprivation and multiple rounds]. It’s sexual Fear Factor, and many would love to play. ♰♰♰ Vanilla lovers are common and likely easily influenced; Pile Three gains the upper hand over others, but it's used to explore their fantasies. "How many licks to turn you out?" hence the overall dynamic of bedroom activity. Degradation when inflicted could dance on the harsher end (e.g. face smacking), but this also says meanness is a raging turn on (both querent and partner).

IT'S PLAUSIBLE THAT PEOPLE ARE SEDUCED DURING SEX, BECAUSE THROUGHOUT THE ENCOUNTER THEY'RE LOSING THEMSELVES JUST TO BE FOUND. Pile Three inhibits the role of a teacher, borderline disciplinarian, but all in the language of tough "love". Essentially, the dominance from them helps their partners with self discovery; helps them develop a newfound confidence in their identity. "Secretary" is coming in again, which isn't surprising since this pile resonates with the movie's theme. The main character, Lee, is a representation of querents spouse throughout their transformation; "on the path to redemption" with their own bodies. Butterflies floating from their cocoons to venture somewhere that's not home—these partners are butterflies once Pile Three travels along their bliss and ecstasy [as in life changing sex ;)].

♰♰♰ Oh, this the pile into wrapping their bedroom partners in rope or fluffy black cuffs; into withholding sweet relief when they have to cum. I'm hearing "soft", which alludes to a gentler side emerging whenever it's time to tie someone up [or implement use of bondage]. Fondness develops once Pile Three leans into this dynamic of rewards for submission; partners light up at the dualism because it reminds them that they're "loved" (i.e. cared for). ♰♰♰ Pile One had significant messages revolving around querents voice, and it's the same for Pile Three. Going off the downloads about demand and control, what's specifically seductive is hearing them speak; giving "instructions", whispering little nothings, essentially melting people's eardrums with word salad. Lol, it reminds me of how certain celebrities are urged to read audiobooks. It's erotic, but it's even better when it's meant for one person ("partner") to hear. I'm also channeling the use of querents voice, in the sense that they're vocalists in bed: "do it like that", "stay there", "i'm so close", "you feel that", etc. They're in [no way] afraid to praise or chide how their experience feels, dissatisfaction isn't an answer.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐒.

♡⃕ Victimization, "prone to experiencing projection." People pushing ideas onto their persona, not accepting querents for who they actually are. Black sheep ["of friends"]. Edgelord (traits). Pluto in 1H, 2H, or 3H. Sun could be in a water sign [Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces] and in 6H.

♡⃕ High profile, appearance is that of a model. "Diamond face"; head shape is acute, sharpened and definitive (e.g. strong jawline). Cheekbones accentuated with contour and highlighter "blush". Straight or "queen" shaped brows. Scorpio in Moon, Venus, or Mars.

♡⃕ Talking and letting it "all out" during sexual encounters. Directing people how they want—need* to be pleased. Definitely talks someone through it; softly whispering the filthiest shit ever lol. Stern and direct. Influence is in their "reasonings", natural convos imitate public speeches ("PSAs"). Presence that'd do wonders in a governmental field (the Pentagon, CIA, secret service). Mercury in 8H, 12H, conjunct IC (4H).

♡⃕ Rolling Stone' by the Weeknd reflects their inner thoughts ("monologue"). Missing people [or a person] that doesn't exist; lonely by ["a"] fault. Stoners, "being stoned" from troubles, using escapism as defense. Caged bird, but an escape isn't near (false). Father Time [Saturn] gifts them wisdom with maturity; development is their "greatest" friend. Meditative yoga, journaling, or music ground them tremendously.

♡⃕ 333; individuals that're lucky, "blessed by Jupiter." Purple aura, royal like mindset. Abundance in material possessions, large amounts that fall through when least expected. "Lumpsums" and it's a new car. Good karma surrounding finances, regime, and knowledge [seemingly 6H]. Could know friends who know "friends" [business opportunities, success]. "Hustlers."

♡⃕ Major Aquarian traits; innovative, intelligent, "indescribable." Could "LOL" a lot, they're likely to be cackling. Incorporates "spectacles" in everyday fashion (sunglasses, reading glasses, fun patterned glasses). Accessories that stand out like their music; multi-genre playlists that's all their taste. Into fruit smoothies or Greek yogurt. "Unconventional" (lifestyle).

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕 𓆩❦︎𓆪

WHAT'S SEDUCTIVE IN GENERAL⟶ 🎴 Creativity. 4oP. 5oP. Rest. 2oW↺. Ace of Pentacles↺. 6oP [bod].

THE CONNECTION TO THIS PILE WAS INSTANTANEOUS, MEANING QUERENTS ARE "TRANQUIL" IN SPIRIT, FLUID IN ENERGY. Pile Four's essence reminds me of coconut trees in Hawaii, leaves fluttering from the warmest of breezes; "tropical island" but in the form of their inner self. Child of the seas. Water nymph in her prime, having a beautiful voice is within this comparison; lessons will develop the clarity of their singing, "choir like" vocals. Aromatherapies could soothe disruptions querents face, scent itself is a huge part of their presence period. "Musk", "gourmand"; smelling delectable, but with an added hint of spice (e.g. cinnamon base). I'm downloading wafts of vanilla, caramel, cotton candy, and chocolate. A guilty pleasure, otherwise delightful to those that can't get a taste ["even tho they want to so bad"].

♰♰♰ Eyes are the most seductive feature of this pile, like the amount of pressure ("pleasure") people get after locking eyes is immense as hell. Naturally intense, resembling that of a tiger's—narrowed and penetrating. "Big ego". Sexiness can be found within their pupils, a tenacious gleam once it's turned on. Transformations are recurring here and partly because Pile Four chooses who they want to "be", slipping on a mask as if they're dressing for the part. "Which era am I stepping into today?" I'm channeling the planet Pluto, so there could dominant or prominent influence in the chart; querents have much passion hidden behind those irises and it hooks people. ♰♰♰ Charitable, generous beings reside within; attention is focused on Pile Four's desires to donate or give back. Not only partners, but people will generally find that level of empathy to be attractive. Humble and rich, whether that's in material assets or spiritual abundance, querents aren't hesitant to share. Pentacles are associated to wealth, so income is especially prominent; "big bank", accumulating revenue through their purposefulness. Humanitarianism is beloved from Pile Four because it's seen as genuine ("from the heart"). Forewarning to repress any sign of bragging, boasting, or full out greed since these are funds tied to karma; Saturn is the driving force because it's all hard earned and deserved, but he won't allow them to forget where they came from. Good behavior equals no testing trials or lessons, we want to keep it that way lol.

ENDEARMENT FROM THE COLLECTIVE WILL BE APPARENT; PEOPLE FIND IT QUITE DIFFICULT TO NOT FALL IN LOVE WITH PILE FOUR. I believe it's their truth and honesty, because they're undoubtedly the peacemaker for a *lot* of people's situations ("shortcomings"). "You've got a friend in me", meaning querents don't bash, they just expect better. Respect blooms once bathed in that light, it's "justified" (i.e. deserved). Honoring an opinion or perspective from this pile, because it's "essential for growth". Sun conjunct [or "trine"] Mercury or MC only emphasizes this air of importance. Utilizing communication and publicly speaking will be a part of this pile's rite of passage lol, definitely meant to be heard out loud (e.g. fighting for rights as a career). Also, raising awareness for a specific subject ("sensitive", controversial) will be a focal point regarding their presence in society—trailblazers.

♰♰♰ Personally, I'd be wary of the people this pile's around because some people are attracted to their sadness. With ill intention this is obviously weird, but harmless attraction would just be someone wanting to "save" Pile Four. Since they're one with inner power, it seems that nothing can shake their stability until it does. It's arousing when querents are in need because they usually never are; never asking for help, won't accept it neither [at least to anyone around that knows firsthand]. It's giving "the damsel's *finally* in distress", like people would leap in front of traffic if it meant they'd get to Pile Four first. Ngl, the other end of this spectrum is very loud—witch hunt vibes, as in "enemies" are literally praying to see querents suffer. Could be prominent later in life, but regardless I felt called to insert a message. Oddly, it's higher ups (bosses, managers) harboring this level of resentment; threatened by Pile Four's strength and potential [to succeed]. Be extremely cautious when at work (or in a workspace), I sense sabotage and framing ("accidents") when we know the real. ♰♰♰ While listening to music, I found myself coming across two separate versions of the same song; one was better than the other, which led me to believe that Pile Four experiences (or "will experience") copycatting and comparison from others. Specifically, partners or suitors who're in committed relationships and fail to keep querents out their fantasies. "Do it better" is being channeled, which also reminds me of being validated for something special ["that no one else has"]. Not to promote infidelity or being someone's sidepiece, but the favoritism isn't really being hidden lmao. This pile must be invested in spirituality or at the very least into the law of "what goes around comes around", because they're not tempted by any bait. They remember who karma is and how she operates, I don't picture them dipping into people's relationships for harmful doing at all. Using someone to their advantage, yes, but allowing themselves to come second place when someone's already first, hard pass.

WHAT'S SEDUCTIVE IN BED ⟶ 🎴Knight of Wands. 8oC. the Emperor. 6oP. King of Swords. the Fool [bod].

DISCOVERING THAT THERE'S ANOTHER SIDE TO SOMEONE SECLUDED IS SUCH A HOT LITTLE SECRET, AND PILE FIVE'S IN ON IT ("DEVIANCY"). Seduction is their strip tease, a dance where each turn and grind is another piece of clothing on the floor. It's as if the quiet island essence drowned beneath heavy passion and eroticism. "Drenched." For some, private encounters ["at night"] could be a habitual pastime, a "hobby". Stress reliever it is, and partners will find joy in being the outlet. Enamor is found at the base of sexual encounters, as in partners find themselves "sinking" into querents love [let alone fall].

♰♰♰ The card spread is a telltale significator of being a freak, definitely needing someone who can "match it" all the same. Like the signs are signing, from the Fool (openness in sexual ideas) at the bottom of the deck to the eroticism that surrounds (encloses) me. I feel that loyalty and trust are the keys to Pile Five's sexual shop. Think those 18+ Instagram posts that're like, "I look innocent, but for that one person I'm the opposite." Querents are a personification of that energy, they're hard to read [sexually] unless someone's intentions say differently. Roleplaying could be a kink that's enjoyable, especially in a maid's outfit or "teacher student" attire; the effects of role reversal instill stability and confidence in their romantic relationships. ♰♰♰ King of Swords came through and despite not having an actual place in the spread, the card came with a download about Pile Four's ability to "take it". Be it longer length of a dick/dildo, nonstop orgasms, or multiple rounds—they're handling everything like a pro ;). "Extremely commendable." People's mouths are going to drop and hang open just from witnessing the durability in person, "making it disappear" isn't common. I'll even insert anal, just because it fits the bill in this context (taboo doesn't exist).

SCENTS HAVE WAFTED TO THE SEXUAL SIDE, PUTTING EMPHASIS ON THE "SMELL" OF DESIRE. Smelling lovely, carrying an ambience of rose petals and candlelight. I've compared another pile to being an aphrodisiac and it also applies to querents; pheromones cloud and permeate the senses of partners, keeps them strung ["on what they're going to have"]. It's telling how drawn in they are, I see them hanging around Pile Four like flies to fresh fruit. Nobody likes to let go, in turn encouraging themselves to stay; "know I gotta leave, but I want to stay." Hearts growing fonder no matter the distance. Selena Quintanilla's presence and aura to the collective, and how that light is missed everyday—Pile Four.

♰♰♰ Naturalness is liberation to querents, their body hair isn't shunned or shamed. "Carefree". Bushes are attractive to not only them, but their lovers as well. It's the normalcy of two people bonding in bed, I think it's a ["stress"] relief to turn off being perfect just to be human. Feels bohemian in the sense of living by the choice; inspiring body positivity. Innocent, but it's attractive enough that partners want to "go down" more frequently ;P. It just adds more uumph to an encounter. ♰♰♰ There's a specific person that came in, someone who devotes ("dotes") their happiness on Pile Four's satisfaction (*for some*). Regardless, I'm channeling messages about foot massages and bathtubs ["together"]; "extreme" TLC after passionate sessions; chocolates fed to them, etc. Romcom acts of service, sweet nothings and dates as long as they're treating querents (i.e. together). Whoever this energy belongs to, they're practically marriage material [and a munch].

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐒.

♡⃕ Tons of fame indicators, querents could find themselves in the public eye once this lifetime. Skepticism around their authenticity, and if they're "cut out" for the scrutiny (otherwise backlash). Nitpicking about appearance being "too hot" and "sexy". Wild and famous. Sun (“conjunct Mercury”) or Lilith could be in 10H. Could have personal planets or placements in Capricorn or Libra [i.e. Saturn ruled].

♡⃕ "Eye catching" type of beauty. Attractivity resembles that of a model, influencer, or "guru"; gorgeous ass people. Androgynous features (well balanced between masc and fem energies). Exhibits the cut and value ("grace") of pink white diamonds. Could be Venusian [Rising, Moon, and Venus in Libra].

♡⃕ Virgin, practicing celibacy, or abstinence; haven't had penetrative sex "yet". Staying to themselves, rejecting new partners (flings), respect around the body. "Not letting anyone touch." Body isn't a joking matter, taken very seriously. Potential health scares [or "hospital visits"]. Prone to sending, posting, or saving nude pics.

♡⃕ Expensive jewels in their favorite pieces of jewelry; never seen without it [necklace, bracelet, “pendant”]. Red rubies or emeralds could have significance (e.g. birth stone, parent’s name etc.). People see them as “luxurious”. Debbie Jellinksy in ‘Addams Family Values’. Spoiled babies, but not without reason. Bargainers [“and deals”]. Jealous themes regarding fashion, beauty, and influence (themselves included).

♡⃕ Going into hiding, "Hermit mode" for a soul cleanse (refresher). Transformative as hell. Disappearing for months at a time just to reappear a "new" person; even more beautiful, "collected", and better than before. Unrecognizable (in a good way). "Money Longer" by Lil Uzi Vert. Pluto dominant, their ability to shed skin and birth anew is apparent ("respected"). Noticed in *every* room they've ever stepped in ("blessing and a curse").

♡⃕ Free the oppressed (“Palestine” and more); boycotting message, either to start or continue. Stop drinking coffee from Starbucks, it’s being frowned upon [“spiritual guidance”], people's lives are at stake. They’re important—they matter.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐕 𓆩❦︎𓆪

WHAT'S SEDUCTIVE IN GENERAL ⟶ 🎴 Abundance↺. Knight of Wands↺. the Magician. Rejection↺. Ace of Swords. the Star. Knight of Cups↺ [bod].

PILE FIVE'S PRESENCE IS ILLUMINATED BY THEIR OUTER PROMINENCE, THEIR "STAR" SHINE (HENCE THE STAR CARD). I've noticed that all five piles have this certain glow to their energies, their personalities can revive a dark room. In this instance, Pile Five's personality is what's alluringly magnetic, it's "seduction" at its truest form. Envision if a person wanted to build their lover, they'd pick characteristics from querents admirabilities. "Sensuous" and amicable, somehow much more than expected (alongside individual uniqueness). Adept with an artistic approach, querents bestow fine talents—performing onstage (i.e. singing, dancing), creative writing, interior or fashion design, etc. Makes them exceptionally special, more so in the public eye; "starstruck". "Nice & Slow" can allude to querents steadiness in attaining their goals, taking the long route for lasting (rewarding) results.

♰♰♰ Embodying traits of people's ideal person (i.e. "perfection") is one of the main factors of being seduced; reminding them that humans aren't one dimensional, that we're made up of universal qualities. Humor would be the best example, because it's not a requirement to be with someone funny, until you realize that you love to laugh. Pile Five has this natural likeliness, they're able to be relatable without coming off as a flake ("try hard"); they're a breath of fresh air, a "relief". Youthfulness is a key factor as well, subtle mannerisms and expressions that thump through people's hearts; "twinkling eyes" and sweet smiles. The wonder in querents eyes is especially prominent, everyone notices at first glance. Literally the Star card, lighting up the nighttime. ♰♰♰ I envision this pile having many friends, being the favorite person in a lot of people's lives. A bestfriend, even to passing strangers. I'm hearing "polly pocket", which says people don't ["ever"] want to outgrow playing with Pile Five. (i.e. spend time with them). Spilling secrets, getting/giving advice, and trusting forever comes with this pile's care package lol; they're the sun for someone else's rainy day ("a confidant"). All above is the answer to "what's so beautiful about them?" Inner beauty is perceived to be felt "by all". Beautiful generosity is what I'm hearing, so querents hospitality is noteworthy. Getting-people-awestruck energy.

QUERENTS DEMEANOR DANCES ALONG THE LINES OF BEING RESERVED AND STRICT. BEING DEFINITIVE IS THE BETTER WORD, THEY'RE APT TO EARNESTY. If Virgo placements are present then this level of poise comes effortlessly, it's a part of them. Primitive and prestigious, people find these attributes to be "fascinating". Miranda Priestly from "the Devil Wears Prada" is who I visualize Pile Five to be; attentiveness to detail, pristine image from successes, a name upheld by its holder. Her character struts with diligence and strives for the greatest opportunities (it's in querents presence). Not letting up on a goal and seeing it to the end draws everyone in; "making shit happen" with devotion catches everyone's attention (enamoring).

♰♰♰ Getting feisty and excessive cussing is a part of querents likability; "randomness" in their words or expressionism. Lol "loudmouthing" is coming in, so they're bound to going off in the heat of moment ["or any time of day"]. The wheel generator (unexpectedness) of their speech is their bat signal, but especially when they're feeling mean. People may project weakness onto this pile—not taking them seriously—until it's their turn to get told off ("caught in the crossfire"). Harmless until they detonate :P, people are reminded that Pile Five has two separate sides. ♰♰♰ Their facial features are accentuated for luring (attracting) attention "wherever they are"; recognition for how irresistible they look to other people. Characteristics of an "angel", plump (cherubic) cheeks or apple like cheekbones. Highlighter serves them well, makes their appearance "radiant", can resemble the Sun. Broad shoulders, toned calves, or a built figure; seduction in their flex, or in moments where they're on display (e.g. in a swimsuit). I see them invoking the spirit of a Taurus [bull] and arousing tenaciousness in lovers. If it was possible to do, someone would paint Pile Five's face to hang in the Louvre.

WHAT'S SEDUCTIVE IN BED ⟶ 🎴8oC↺. 10oP↺. Ace of Swords. the Lovers. Page of Pentacles. Queen of Cups [bod].

HAVING AN EFFECTS OF HEAVY DRUGS WOULD BE AN IDEAL REFERENCE TO PILE FIVE’S SEDUCTIVENESS. All it takes is just one dose, because right after that is when the addiction begins (i.e. obsessive lovers). It's not uncommon for this group to attract internet watchers or stalkers, otherwise past partners that don't want to leave them alone; "can't get enough" of their love, aimlessly wondering if Pile Five's wondering too. "Made for everyone", as in "one taste and you're whipped". Don't be afraid to indulge, especially if it's the best you'll ever get. The pile that got away for a lot of past lovers [111, 1111 is significant].

♰♰♰ Wetness and fluids are big with querents, the first thing I channeled was "water fountain" (cream). It's making me giggle, because private areas can be seen as a "problem" from producing so much liquid. This can indicate "magic" genitals, private parts sprinkled in glitter. Orgasms from this pile are the "gift that keeps on giving", like people's self-worth (value) end up skyrocketing lol. "Heaven sent" plus the gift of pleasure leaves the impression of God's angel on others. Breeding or ["multiple"] creampies as a kink, because lovers find themselves absorbing the excess ("wanting it all", if you catch my drift..). Water is heavy [throughout the spread] which confirms many messy situations ;). ♰♰♰ Lips, lips, lips: kissing and feeling them is an experience, a solidified moment in anyone's lives if they're granted the chance. Pile Five's kisses (mouth in general) is an escape, a getaway the promised land ["of ecstasy"]. Kisses are delectable, tasting dessert-esque (sugary, savory). Flavors of peppermint or "candy" is prominent, otherwise satiating the desire. Also, the red lips on Sabrina's cover art gives me the idea of being kissed all over; the body, face, and "soul". A level of expertise this high means Pile Five is [or will be] a lot of people's "first"; love, orgasm, or fulfilling relationship. I don't believe there's anything about them that won't get someone turned on and yearning.

AS IT'S BEEN SO POTENT, PILE FIVE'S ACCESS TO A HIGHER SOURCE OF POWER IS GRATIFYING; DIVINITY LIES WITHIN BED, IT'S AN AWAKENING OUTSIDE OF THE BODY. Sex is inherently spiritual, because to partners the encounter isn't "of this Earth". To me, I envision it as beams of light poking (pouring) through the mind and spirit of whoever's with this pile, essentially aligning physical pleasure to mental (i.e. their psyche) bliss. That's to say, any form of sex is tantric and transcendental. People will be taken aback (at first), but that's due to the encounter being as sacred as it is; the intention (or "practice") is too important to interrupt before it begins.

♰♰♰ It's hard to not claim this pile as being perfect, but omg the downloads just validate the sentiment. There's not one hair on querents body that isn't adorned and appreciated, this reigns even more true if they're in a committed connection (i.e. special person). No matter how they envision themselves, to the collective their existence is "exalted" and favored. Skin could even glow during and after sex, because they're so cherished; "everything they think they aren't" is debunked at their most vulnerable (nakedness). Laving on their sensitive spots (legs, thighs, feet) is a token of gratitude from lovers, it'll happen frequently considering how devoted to Pile Five they'll be. ♰♰♰ This is coming in so intensely, querents have the mouth of an oral [sex] god. Nothing short of a munch, they leave marks with their tongue or throat; pulling people into their utopia (i.e. ecstasy). Ecstasy is recurring word for this pile, hence being compared to a drug, an indicator for sex that's "numbing". During head, partners are bound to throw their heads ["and hands"] upwards. The pressure of being sucked into the void is "stilling", the calm before a ravage storm. Lmao, they get people stuck with their mouths on 'o'. Minds on cloud nine, limbs so light from relaxation they "could float"—blown. This pile is made up of lovers that give and give, until they can't give anymore. It's as if oral is a "souvenir", an experience meant to be collected forever more.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐒.

♡⃕ "Ironheart"; has the courage of the [cowardly] lion, bravery is learned (earned). Lightning strike(s) of a person, turns heads and charges surroundings with their intensity; energy is incomparable. Uranus could be a part of big three [Sun, Moon, Rising], Uranus dominant or in 1H/2H. Authors (writing can "revitalize" people, give them a wakeup call).

♡⃕ Connected to their highest form ("truest self"), receives messages through [or "from"] the Universe. Alienlike; "not of this Earth." What's on the inside (soul) reflects what's on their "face" (e.g. feeling good internally so they're extra smiley in person). Balanced. "Sacral chakra" alignment is a godsend for sex [can top or ride well]. Stomach is people's favorite part; birthmark, belly piercing, tattoo(s) above the waist.

♡⃕Insecurities are a part of them; "stories" about overcoming disappointment. Secretive to a fault ("can hold water" forever). Believes in trust and exposing what's on the inside—"bareface" (might also be more present at their "rawest"). Holds the key to the world (i.e. everyone's secrets). Consciousness. Lmao, fucking with them is a spiritual ass whooping full of drawbacks [and lessons]. Powerful ancestors (spirit team).

♡⃕ "Thank you" is their passage to life. Grateful for the smallest and largest things; "tearing up" over sentiments. Type to thank their lover for giving them orgasms ["submissive"]. "Soothing" voices; can converse or "rock" anyone to sleep (comforting). Cancer placements could be prominent [Sun, Moon, Venus][Lunarian].

♡⃕ "Bed Chem" by Sabrina Carpenter, might be "short and sweet". Emulates the energy of a little person ("smol"). Hair can be long, full and thick too [great for tugging, wrapping, or "pulling" in bed]. Cocoon, people don't want [them] to leave. Rich and "domestic" (motherly) singing voice. People like (love) to hear them whisper [Mercurial].

♡⃕ Artistic (artists at heart); creativity is all they know, all they breathe. Life path number 3/4, 5m [artistry]. Would do well onstage, might've experienced Broadway, could dream of visiting ("talent"). Pleasers (they're really submissive); lovers give them "everything" (i.e. drowning in ecstasy). Devotion is a personality trait. Pisces could be a part of their big six [Sun, Moon, Rising, Mercury, Venus, Mars][Neptunian].

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

© BITDEMONIC 2024

[tetsuskei-archive]

synopsis: kuroo fathoms how his childhood has affected his life growing up into adulthood, and ultimately fatherhood

notes: reupload from last year. actually get to uploaded on mother’s day. daughters have curly hair (based of my hair kinda). self indulgent. for context, reader have two daughters named akira (7) and sora (4).

work count: 2.5k

warnings: tough family relations, angst, fluff

mother's day is a strange day for kuroo tetsurō.

he never grew up close to his mother, his only memories being from when he was younger than six. they were hazy.

most of the memories unfortunately surround his father and mother arguing—whether that was somewhere off nearby or being heard from through the walls.

in the past, with the little memories he had of his mother, he tried not to think so badly of her.

but when he had reached out to her a number of years later, he was met with an unfortunate sight. she had moved on from kuroo and his father—starting a brand new life with a new husband, and also a new child. a daughter. a half sibling he hadn't known about.

he hasn't talked to his mother since then.

but now mother's day is also full of blessings and happiness for kuroo, too. because he has you, of course. the best mother to his children.

he had strictly told his assistant to make sure he had no work on mother's day. he always tried to work a little overtime (whether it was his will or not) but needed to be sure that nothing would interfere with this day.

you're luckily, not the lightest sleeper, but it will only be a matter of time before you would realize kuroo isn't in bed. which is why he tactfully grabbed his last worn suit jacket and placed it over his pillow for you to hold.

that would be able to stave you off for awhile.

his next step is to wake up your girls. he had discussed with them the plan for mother's day, which included making you breakfast and providing you with your gifts, and of course spending time with you.

he just forgot to factor in two small things: getting them awake and dressed.

"rise and shine my sweet angels." he softly coos, abruptly opening up the blinds for light.

the youngest, sora, sleepily squirms in her bed, rubbing her eyes (one's that match her father's) and squints.

"there she is!" he cheers, coming over to plant kisses on his daughter's face. he lifts her in his arms, swinging her a bit. "good morning, sweetheart."

"papa, stop!" she giggles, trying to avoid his lips.

he frowns, pausing, "do you not love me?"

her eyes—the same warm hazel as his—widen with shock. "of course, papa!"

kuroo beams, resuming his kiss attack, "good, because i love you sooo much. let's try to get your sister up, kay?" he hums, sora nodding before hopping out of his arms to jump on top of her sibling.

akira, the eldest, has always been a grumpy sleeper—he often left you to wake her up because, well, frankly put: kuroo is scared of his own daughter and her wrath.

"up! wake up, 'kira!" sora jumps on top of her sister, shaking her.

there's a small sound of noise as kuroo approaches his eldest daughter's bedside. "looks like someone is awake after all." he manages to find her face in her bundle of sheets and laughs at how much she looks like you when she's grumpy. "good morning, princess."

"...i'm not awake." akira mumbles, rolling over.

he sits for a moment, and thinks of the one thing that he's best at.

scheming.

"oh, well i guess if you're not awake, you won't be able to get any yummy pancakes for breakfast, will you? it's a shame because they're your favorite—chocolate chip. sora, mommy, and i will just eat them all and celebrate mother's day without you, then..." he says sadly, faking a pout.

akira sits up straight, glaring at her father. "you wouldn't dare."

he smirks, "i would." he pats her head, kissing her nose. "come on kiddo, time to get up."

she doesn't seem convinced until it registers in her mind what he said earlier, "mother's day!"

"momma day!" sora cheers, springing out of bed. kuroo catches her in his arms, hushing her softly.

he grunts as he squats down to their level, but beckons akira to him.

"we're going to play the quiet game, okay? your mom is still asleep right now and we don't want to wake her up yet to ruin the surprise. so i need you two to stay quiet. can you two do that for me?" he asks.

the two nod with enthusiasm, giggling as they rush off to get teeth brushed and ready. he helps them get their outfits out while they do so.

getting them dressed was only half the battle, now the real battle was taming their hair.

"oh god..." he grumbles, staring at the sight in front of him.

both of your daughters had a hair type similar to yours (thankfully) but that means that they also inherited the unruliness of their father's hair.

he's watched you do their hair, marveled at the way that your hands moved skillfully to create whatever updo they wanted.

"okay tetsurō, we can do this." he hypes himself up in the mirror, just like before his pitches for his job.

he starts with sora, who requests 'piggies' (pigtails).

"i'm forgetting something..." he mumbles, looking around. but after searching for god knows how long he moves on.

"no!" there's a yelp and akira smacks her dad's hand away from her sisters head.

he blinks, "what?"

"papa, you can't brush without the water." sora says, handing him a spray bottle.

it suddenly clicks for him. "oh, you're right. thank you, darlings." he kisses the top of their heads.

after finishing his handiwork he adds ribbons to her hair. not the best but honest work.

he gives akira 'bunnies' (buns), and before he knows it, he's done.

getting down to the kitchen and making breakfast was the final step.

tetsurō likes to think he's a decent cook. he pales in comparison to you, but pancakes can't be that hard to make, right?

"oops," sora mumbles, knocking over the pancake mix. it falls onto the ground, but part of it also lands on her sister.

"girls," kuroo says sternly, hands on his hips.

they instantly stop, freezing.

there's a frown on his face, and it makes the two of them shiver. "if you keep that attitude up, neither one of you will get pancakes. sora, you're going to have to clean up the mess you made, and akira i need you to help your sister get the broom since she's too small for it. do you both understand?"

"yes, sir." they say in unison, moving to complete their tasks.

he smiles, voice gentle again, "thank you."

they do as told, and while they clean up, he's able to get breakfast going. he gives them minimal tasks (ones that don't involve a mess).

"alright, why don't you guys try the pancakes to make sure they're yummy enough for mommy."

"oh!" akira scrambles over, ready to take a bite.

unfortunately her sister swoops in, stealing the fork and eating the food.

akira glares, grumbling, "thief!"

sora quickly flees from her sister, running around the island.

kuroo starts to call after them, "hey—"

"sounds like you guys are having fun all without me." the sound of your voice alerts all three of them to you, standing sleepily in the opening of the doorway.

the sound of your entrance makes your girls run to you, and you don't hesitate to embrace them in your arms.

you stand back up straight, holding up your husbands clothes, "did you really try to replace yourself with your suit jacket?"

"you said my cologne smells nice, so—" he mumbles, padding over to you like a child before taking your face in his hands, "you're not supposed to be up right now, by the way."

you laugh, "i won't lie, it worked for a minute. then i realized how cold and soft everything was."

"are you calling me hard? like a rock?" he jokes.

you poke his stomach, "with all this muscle, yeah."

"i'll take that as a compliment, then. happy mother's day, sweetheart." he smiles, kissing your forehead before leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

there's a noise of disgust, and you look at your two daughters who are gagging.

"he has cooties, momma!" sora whines.

you laugh, "i'm sorry, girls. but your daddy's cooties are my favorite."

3:45 p.m.

on mother's day, tetsurō likes to take time to focus on his oba-san. he always brings her, her favorite flowers. today he brings along his girls while you went off to brunch with your own mother.

"you're doing a great job." his grandmother smiles sweetly at him.

"huh?" he looks up, startled by her comment, he looks away from his daughters.

"you're doing well, tetsurō. stop worrying so much." she looks off at his daughters playing, "you're raising two beautiful, respectable young girls there. you and your wife should be proud."

"ahh, is it that obvious?" he laughs, scratching the back of his head, blushing red. it scares him how much that woman can read him like a book. there's five people in his life who can do that and he wonders if it's five too many. but it never will be.

"well, i did learn from the best, after all." he smiles, holding her hand. it's rare and few nowadays that he can break down his barriers and become vulnerable (with anyone besides you, of course). but he will always be his oba-san's tetsu-chan.

it's a blessing and a gift for his girls to see their great grandmother, he thinks. not many people can do that.

6:04 p.m.

"i hope you're proud of yourself, tetsu-kun."

kuroo lastly visits kenma's mother, the latter had already been by earlier and is not present at the moment due to his different schedule.

he sits up, "proud of...?"

"your abilities as a father." kozume-san smiles, "you've always looked out for others, that was evident with our kenma. so i have no doubt that you turned out to be such a great father. you and your wife are doing amazing."

he quietly says thank you, pausing as he thinks and ruminates over a thought.

"do you think things could've been different?"

the woman looks up, understanding his intended meaning. if kenma's perception came from anyone, it's his own mother.

"you mean, if your mother was present?"

he nods, quiet.

"well, certainly different," she starts, "but you've grown up fine as you are now. so it's not to say you didn't need a mother—but you at least have mother figures."

"as long as i'm around and i'm sure your grandmother, as well as your wife, you will always have someone there to support and cherish you."

he blinks back tears and smiles, "thank you."

9:32 p.m.

kuroo grimaces, staring at the contact.

he'd been pacing for the past fifteen minutes, conflicted over what he should do.

thumbs move over the screen before he can even think about what he's doing and suddenly the tone dial is in his ear. he's never had his heart beat so fast before—not during a volleyball match, or an important exam, or a job interview.

he feels like he's on fire with nerves. this might be the hardest thing he's ever done in his life.

voicemail.

he opens his mouth to say something, but the words won't come out. he feels choked up, not knowing what to do. wondering why the right words won't come out. he's a man of suaveness and eloquence. it's in the job title, so why is he blanking right now?

but this is not a job, this is real life.

he hangs up, not knowing what to say. he's frustrated with himself for now as many thoughts swirl his mind. he doesn't know how to untangle them and organize them in a way that makes sense.

kuroo doesn't sense your presence when you walk in the room, and that's how you know somethings wrong. it had been a long day and you barely had any time to yourselves and more importantly to check in with him.

you place your hand on his arm, gently squeezing him. "tetsu, what's wrong? what's bothering you?" you hold his face in your hands, eyes scanning over the small creases in his face.

he runs his thumb over your soft skin. quiet as he gathers his thoughts.

"...am i a terrible father for keeping the girls away from my mother?" he asks, looking at you.

you're silent for a good while, and he worries that you'll respond with rage, maybe even mild resentment. he doesn't know if he can handle that.

"that's ultimately your choice, tetsurō. it's not my right or place to force you to reconcile with your mother for the sake of our children."

"i mean, don't you have some right as the mother of my children?" he points out, "they'll wonder in the future about her. i know that for sure."

"'ro, you do it because you want to. not because you feel like you have to." you say, giving him a smile. "besides, they love their hii obasan and my mother very much. they have plenty of people in their lives that make sure they are loved and make it well known."

"i don't know what you have going on between you and your mother, but whenever you're ready to share the full story, i will be here."

and so he unloads the heavy burden he had been carrying with him for years, feeling his chest tighten at times as he recalls events. you can tell he's trying his best to remain impassive, but you hold him tightly, hoping he knows you're there for him and you aren't going anywhere.

once he finishes, it's eerily quiet. you both don't say anything for a moment.

"it's okay to cry, tetsu." you murmur against his forehead. "you don't have to act like you're okay all the time for other people's sake. think of yourself for once."

he relaxes at your words, inhaling sharply and closing his eyes. you feel his tears stream down his face and wipe gently, reaching over the bedside to dab his eyes away with tissues.

"you're...you're right. that's the one thing that matters most to me. growing up, i always felt sometimes that the adults get lost in their own worlds and forget about the children." he laughs, running his hand over his face.

"so you don't want them to feel alone." you say, grabbing his hand. there's a silent understanding as you recall your own childhood. it wasn't a bad one, but that doesn't dismiss the turmoil that was trudged through. "and we won't let that even happen."

"yeah." he says, closing his eyes.

"and you're not alone either," you add, "we do things as a team, remember that."

"i'm very thankful to have a mother of my children be someone as angelic as you." he hums, kissing your forehead, cheeks, and nose.

suddenly, his phone lights up and you both stare at it in silence. the name reads 'don't pick up!'.

kuroo takes an exhale, picking up the device. mind swimming with thoughts and anxiousness as his thumb hovers the screen.

he answers.

[ak319]

Lovesick Rich Gf x Fem gp reader🛍️💋

(Headcanon)

(Warnings: Toxic love, obsessed, implied sexual content, possessive themes, blackmailing,)

Roxi Moores, your girlfriend is the daughter of Altan Moores, owner of the Mooranda hotel chain which is their family-owned business. That's right, their family is half Turkish and half English. Not to forget she is an international model. You, however, were a simple college student who got a job at one of the Hotel branches as a server.

Roxi was one of those people who didn't pay much attention to the people catering to her as she was always used to being pampered. But when you came to take her order dressed in that white dress shirt, with a notepad in your hands, and greeted her and her girlfriends in that cushioned urbane voice, she nearly folded right there. That night is what Roxy now celebrates as your guys' "Love at first sight anniversary" even though it was only one-sided and your ass was so aloof at that time of serving her. You didn't even know until she left that she was the owner's DAUGHTER!

Anyway, Roxi had set her eyes on you and you are damn wrong if you think she doesn't get what she wants. It's not like she lacks anything. She has charisma, looks, and money, though she could tell you were not a person to fall for someone's wealth so she had to work hard. And really hard to get such an attractive, nice woman like you at her feet.

Her alluring blue eyes made you weak in the knees, not to forget her honeyed voice and her luscious caramel brown hair. You began to see her more at the dining and eventually, you responded to her flirting too sometimes but there was this nagging voice at the back of your head reminding you of your status and how it might be so wrong and disastrous to date Altan's only daughter. But she convinced you and convinced you well ♡ by easily luring you into her suite. God, you couldn't believe how you even scored that night just by getting a job there.

Your apprehension about her father's opinion was cleared when she out of the blue once brought him for not more than 5 minutes due to his busy schedule and introduced you. To this day you still wonder how you kept your composure when meeting a billionaire as his daughter's GF and as a lowly SERVER and that too in a WEEK of DATING?! Well to be fair at that point you thought that you were still in a situation-ship but Roxi made no mistake of reminding you that you were her girlfriend.

Then, your relationship with her began and you had no idea how your life would change when looking back on it now.

She was cute, smart, and elegant. You absolutely adore how she is attentive towards you. She listened to your rants about your college dramas and would be like a strict parent if you missed one day of your gym. Yes, she would be MAD if you didn't work out. She is obsessed with your abs and will even put stickers on them or would doodle with her glitter Sharpies giggling after riding you dry while you are laying there still trying to find your ass in the milky way. Not that you minded but now you didn't get to skip the workout and would have to send her a snap as soon as you step into the gym. She is the one who sits on your back like a princess as you do pushups or makes you do them on top of her for practice as she pays you with kisses on each one you do.

She would give you a private catwalk trying to distract you from studying or your game time by trying on the sensual nighties she could get her hands on. Passwords are non-existent between you both and don't you dare remove her picture as your wallpaper. You can only change it to a different picture. She does the same with her phone.

As this was your first serious relationship, you were indulging in the way she made it so magical for you but you were also overwhelmed. Because having a brand customize a couple perfume sets and bracelets only for you both seemed too much to you. Whenever you put forward your complaint of her spending her money on you as it literally made you feel spineless, she would throw tantrums and cry and let it be known that her tantrums are not easy to control. Thank God, you chose to discuss this problem at her house and not yours because your family would have their wits blown away if they witnessed this side of hers instead of the sweet humble chic girlfriend one.

Roxi, your number one supporter will be at your every (fave sport) match at your college, cheering you but she always looked so prim and proper while doing it. You never understood how she did it. When it comes to your attention and the competition, Roxi is gravely calm and it can be quite chilling for you as she is the clingy type. But she is indeed a secure and confident person and she trusts you too. The other girls don't even stand a chance against her so why give a fuck?. But little do you know that if she catches you initiating something ever, your life is going to get W-R-E-C-K-E-D. Thank God you’re loyal—one of the many things she loves about you. So don't ever forget that she is the only girl in your life. The scratches on your back remind you daily anyway. She never lets them heal.

How does she even-aren't her nails oval?! Nevermind.

It was however the other way around. You were the possessive one and she relished in the fact that you didn't like her wearing too revealing clothes not because you were insecure, you just didn't trust other people and the way they might think of her in their minds. Roxi didn't mind one bit as she wanted to be dolled up only for you.

The moment when she first found out you were pursuing a business-related degree, she had already formulated and decided every step of your future and you didn't even know. She was going to make you into a perfect daughter-in-law for her parents, especially her father. She was tired of being spoiled by her dad and wanted the role to be passed on to you now. She had already tested you multiple times and seeing how you gave 0 shits about her money made her more determined every time.

So as soon as you graduated she tried to convince your stubborn hardworking ass to first stop with this part-time job of a server for God's sake but you were persistent and did it alongside a corporate one but not in her dad's company. This enraged her further to her core. She couldn't stand the thought of you licking someone's shoes just to get a few bucks! In her mind, the server job was way better as at least it was her dad paying you and not some other bastard. She really remained patient with you whether it was when you took her on dates or when you gifted her something as she just loathed the fact that it was bought from the extra money that you were earning through your other job. After having enough of this bullshit, one day she just stormed into your office and grasped the attention from every corner. Some recognized her, and some were plain curious to see such a beautiful woman with such a furious look. She barged into your boss's office and demanded them to fire you. You ultimately calmed her down and controlling your own anger, escorted her out.

That was the day you cut it off with her...at least you thought you did. Well, you got fired anyway since your boss found out whose daughter she was and didn't want any trouble. You got texts from her, ranging from apologies to straight-up threats of you not ever getting a job anywhere in the world. At this rate, you had resigned from your serving job because of her and were depressed. Your family instead of supporting you took her side as she had hypnotized them with her sweet and caring nature. They wanted you to just accept the job at Mooranda International. And you did that eventually when her father came to your doorstep and took you to his company and hired you as his executive assistant which was such a big role for you.

You started your job and honestly, it felt robotic. Your soul wasn't in it and how can you forget the way it was handed to you, in a literal gold platter but make it a platter full of thorns and spikes that you just had to accept no matter what.

As far as Roxi is concerned, she visited you in the office as if nothing had changed between you two and soon you realized that you were trapped in this situation both by her and her father and could only act as if nothing had occurred. She re-entered your life and things slowly returned back to normal, and if you consider getting a mansion, luxurious cars and access to a private jet normal, then yes. Everything is normal.

You both live together now and Roxi finally got what she wanted. Making you spoil her every day by demanding things left and right. She fantasized about waking up every day and seeing you get ready to go work with her father and it was finally true!. Every morning she would make sure the maids got breakfast perfectly cooked to your liking and the favourite part of hers was to see you off with a kiss. After that either she went for shoots or just spoiled herself to look pretty for you when you came back.

Her father on the other hand made sure to be ten times harder on you than other employees to make sure you are ready to one day take his position and be a good wife to his lovely daughter. Despite his reservation of having his daughter date a server from his own hotel, he had taken a liking to you. He still remembered her tears when you both temporarily broke up and he sure as hell is not letting his baby cry again over your ass. After all, his dearest daughter always gets what she desires.

Speaking of desires, Roxy is insatiable when it comes to you. Now more than ever since you look so fucking sexy wearing suits and dress shirts. The way you drive the latest Bugatti La Voiture Noire with those hands of yours, one of which always has to be on her thigh or she's jumping out. She puts on the playlists she makes for you. It is so hot to see you be so serious and focused on driving and even working when she is all over you. Knowing that at the end of the day, you will fuck her anyway.

She never fails to blush when you serve her sometimes as it reminds her of the first time she met you. Her shyness and that dreamy look in her eyes make you serve her more often than ever that now it has become a habit at dinner time.

Don't for a second dare to think that you can wear white and not have her clinging to you to put a lipstick stain on various parts of your shirt. Seeing you embarrassed makes her giddy but she still doesn't let you clean them and instead makes you wear a coat.

Roxi really wants to sometimes make those adorable Tiktoks of relationship aesthetic but she knows you are not a fan of showing off and she kind of agrees with this notion as she doesn't want anyone's evil eye to befell upon your relationship. So instead she just makes such videos for her private account and posts some of yours in which either your back is facing her from the balcony as you're enjoying your (tea/coffee) or you're holding a bouquet for her, your face covered by the flowers. Such media in which the relationship is not that OTT. She loses herself in the attention you get online when people are curious about you, thirsting over you or whether it's her own friends congratulating her on catching such a fine specimen as you. The fact that nobody can steal you away from her no matter how much they try, always makes her day.

Now, her plan is to be your wife. She is just waiting for the day you pop the question. But she knows you are going to make it special so she can wait. She will wait. But it is so unfair that she has to. She has never waited for anything in her life and now, for the thing she wants the most, she has to. She could propose to you but she doesn't want it that way! She wants you on your knees for her. She is your everything, isn't she? And it's not like she doesn't have other plans on standby if you show no signs of wifing her up...

She had a previously failed engagement with a gold digger douchebag that her father chose for her and it was vile. She is not going to be treated like that ever again and you have proved yourself to be worthy of her and treated her better than her ex-fiance whom you hated too just by hearing about him treating your princess like shit. So she knows you love her beyond words at this point.

A snippet🤍

"Why didn't you respond to my texts?! You knew we had a golf date planned!". Your ears were not prepared for that shriek after the hectic day you had.

"Baby-I said sorry and can you-"

"NO! You are not going to work tomorrow and we are spending all day together. You hear me?! Don't you dare ignore my texts again!" She dug her nails on your shoulders.

She was currently on your lap in the tight golf outfit she wore specifically for you. How did she even think you would take her out in the skirt she’s wearing? She is indeed playing right now. But she couldn't stop teasing you with the way she moved on your lap and you knew she was doing it to make you more pissed.

"That's it." You carried her over your shoulder and onto the bed and Roxi couldn't be more happier. Good thing that she had already thrown away the condom packet.

[stevenose]

i get what i want

steve harrington’s annual halloween party, 1991

contains: copious twin peaks references (you do not have to be familiar with the show to read!); audrey!reader; mean!reader; dumb puppy steve; tension; flirting; teasing; mentions of smut

note: i just think audrey and steve would be fun together… this is self-indulgent but i hope you enjoy! if you haven’t watched twin peaks, you MUST. you also should watch this tiny little clip to get the vibe of this fic <3

“Nice decorations.”

Steve turns, stomach twisting in a confusing, delicious way when he sets his eyes on you. Propped up on a bar stool in his kitchen, legs crossed under your wool tartan skirt, a foot kicking in your black and white oxfords. His eyes fall to your lips, painted cherry red. Your white teeth bite into them. You gesture towards the living room, juvenile decor strewn about.

“Audrey Horne,” he says, clocking your costume immediately.

You grin. “And you must be my Dale Cooper.”

He only dressed up like this because he had a suit and a similar tie and enough coffee mugs to sell it. “How’d you guess?” he quips.

You giggle, head turning to the side. You have her mannerisms down pat. “Isn’t that funny? What do you think it means, Stevie?”

“That Twin Peaks is a popular show.”

You tsk. “That’s no fun, is it? Maybe we’re all synced up.”

Your finger taps your temple. It registers now that you’re smoking a cigarette. He blinks at it. He opens his mouth to tell you to put it out, but you ash it onto the tile of his kitchen floor before he can speak.

“Put it out,” he says. Then adds, “Please.”

Your grin, playful and mean, makes him blush. “What are you worried about, Stevie? Your parents aren’t here.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you to make a mess.”

You hum. “You probably shouldn’t have big parties if you don’t want a mess, huh?”

You bring the cigarette back to your lips. You’re hypnotic, dragging Steve closer. He doesn’t know how to talk to you and he never has. You’re the only person he’s ever met that talks to him like that. Like he’s a nobody, like he’s pressed down underneath your shoe.

It’s so hard to admit to himself that he really likes it.

“I don’t remember inviting you,” he says. Tries real hard to keep up the cool guy act.

“No, but you invited my best friend.” You nod towards her, and Steve turns to look. He doesn’t remember inviting her, either, but at least she’s not ashing a cigarette onto his floor.

“What’s the problem, Special Agent?” You take a puff from your cig. Your head tilts to the side. “Do you want a taste?”

His heart skips, body growing hot, but then you’re handing over the nicotine.

And he really wishes you’d let him push up your skirt and eat your cunt out while you talk to him like that. So mean, teasing, hands pulling his hair so tight it hurts. Wants to shut you up when he pushes himself inside of you. Wants you to run your mouth when you find your voice again, talking down, degrading him so much he has to kiss you to make you stop. The revelation startles him, and your smile grows as if you can read his mind.

“I don’t remember Dale Cooper smoking,” he manages.

You roll your eyes. “Alright, Stevie,” you say, pulling back. You stare at him as you put it out on the countertop behind you. “There. No smoking.”

Your delicate hands suddenly reach out, nails manicured. You take his tie between your hands, studying the stripes of it. Then you tug on it, bringing his face down to yours. You smell like cherries and vanilla and a soft groan slips from his throat.

“How about a taste of something else?”

Steve blinks slow, stupid. Completely entranced. “Okay,” he whispers, cock hardening.

But you pull away and reach for the bowl of alcohol-soaked marichino cherries behind you, sitting pretty beside the jungle juice. You bring it to his lips, looking at him mischievously, teeth biting into your lip once again. “Open up.”

He doesn’t even think about it. His soft lips part and you hold the cherry by the stem, letting the bittersweet flesh of it catch between his teeth. He doesn’t pull away, so you do for him, snapping the stem off as you pull back.

He chews, delirious.

“Good boy,” you coo. “My Special Agent.”

And then you bring the stem up to your lips and it disappears between your teeth.

Steve’s cock aches. He watches your tongue roll in your mouth, a look of concentration bringing your arched brows together, before you pull it from your red lips in a perfect little knot.

He’s so dumbfounded. Wants you to kiss him so bad. He’d let you do anything you want to him.

You take one of his big hands, hanging heavy at his side. You place the stem in his palm and wrap his fingers around it, looking up at him so innocently. He thinks for a moment that you might actually like him, the way your eyes are all soft, your tongue swiping along your bottom lip.

“Something to remember me by,” you say.

You stare at each other for another long moment, and Steve’s eyes start to flutter shut, heart racing, stomach fluttering. But you never move, never press your crimson mouth to his.

“Your tie’s messed up,” you say instead, sitting upright. Your hands find the knot of it, and you push it upwards, making it sit snug around his bobbing throat. It restricts his air flow, making him feel even dizzier.

You smooth it, then drag your nails down his chest and tummy before dropping them so they gently brush against the zipper of his black slacks.

“You’re being a bad host,” you scold, getting down from the stool, squeezing yourself around him. “You better go mind your minions before they make a bigger mess than I did.”

Steve watches you disappear into the crowd, the world suddenly coming back again. The music’s too loud and he searches for Robin with lovestruck eyes. He finds her, watching him with her jaw dropped. She makes a face - what the hell was that? - and he decides his boner needs a little more attention than her prying.

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again- Part Three

Azriel x Rowaelin daughter reader

Summary: The inner court has many questions about Y/n and her world. Missing home even more, all she wants is to fly and clear her head, luckily, her babysitter indulges her

Series Masterlist

-Part Three-

Azriel knew this was going to be a long day from the moment he woke up. Surrounded by his shadows who would not shut up for three gods damned seconds. She’s awake, awake, awake, upset, won’t eat, upset. The little busybodies had snuck off while he slept, and apparently they were very concerned about the state of the female next door for whatever reason.

He found himself dressed and in the hallway waiting for any sign of her, when he didn’t receive one in the ten minutes he’d stood there he’d finally crossed the hall and knocked three times on the door.

She was still in there, he knew that from the way his shadows kept trying to slip through the cracks towards her. And he could feel the shield of air she’d placed around the room, hiding the sounds of her approaching footsteps.

The door swung open and Azriel couldn’t explain why his breath caught in his chest. The house had gifted her new clothes, the traditional night court style that Amren preferred to wear, in the deepest darkest night court black. The silk cropped shirt hugged her curves, and the flowing high waisted pants left a small sliver of skin on display. Beautiful, pretty, black suits her. His shadows whispered again and again and again, he was about ready to lock them away for a moment of peace.

“Here to take me to the dungeons yet?” She asks, lifting her arms towards him as if expecting cuffs, amusement glittering in her eyes as she watches his eyes lift from her waist, “what’s on the table today? Just some light interrogation? Maybe a bit of torture?”

“Breakfast actually,” he replies dryly, “the others will be here shortly.”

“Well that’s no fun,” she pouts, dropping her arms to her sides, “lead the way then, shadowsinger.”

The title rolls off her tongue, that accent swirling and dripping with charm. A small smirk on her lips as she notices his hesitation, turning his back on her still felt like a bad idea, even though he didn’t glimpse a single dagger on her, he’s sure she wouldn’t need it.

She seems fine, less tense than the night before, a mask of cool amusement and charm, yet his shadows seem concerned, upset, they’d whispered all morning. As they walk he keeps one eye on her, taking in the way she examines every surface, every turn, every nook and cranny. She was mapping out the halls in her head, memorizing the ways out, smart. If she wanted to she could shift into that magnificent hawk form and fly through the halls and off the balcony before he could even try to catch her.

They turn into the dining room, Rhys and Feyre already sat at the table. The table set for several people, Azriel assumed the rest of the court would be here soon, Cassian flying them up from the River House. Elain would stay back with little Nyx, her mate there to protect them both.

“Good morning,” Feyre says, voice reserved yet kind, “I’m Feyre.”

Y/n grants her a small smile, bowing her head slightly in greeting. She doesn’t say anything, opting to examine the room around them like she’d done in the halls, nervous. She didn’t let it show on her face, but Azriel could tell, could see the tension in her shoulders.

“Please, sit,” Rhys says, gesturing to the seats across from them, “the rest will be here shortly.”

“Should I be worried about that?” Y/n asks, her tone is light, that cool amusement hiding the faint look of panic that flashes through her eyes.

Azriel’s shadows writhe at his sides when he sees that look, something about it settles wrongly. She had nothing to fear from them, but how would she know that? Strangers who had found her vulnerable, who had tried to look into her mind, who she knew next to nothing about.

Feyre laughs lightly, “no, no, of being talked to death perhaps, but I swear, no harm will come to you.”

That seems just good enough to Y/n to coax her to sit across from Feyre, her eyes glance warily at the foods laid out between them and instead of filling her plate like the High Lord and Lady across from her she simply leans back in her seat and watches. Azriel takes the seat beside her, pointedly filling his plate with mounds of eggs and bacon and bread with jams.

She won’t eat, eat, eat, eat, she needs to eat. Shadows angrily whisper in Azriel’s ears but he forces them away as he hears the sounds of his family grow closer down the hall, Cassian’s booming laugh echoing into the room. He can see the moment Y/n tenses, her body readying for a fight that would not come.

“A rambunctious lot you’ve got here,” she says coolly, that mask of indifference slid into place.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Rhys sighs.

Cassian is the first to come through the door, followed by Nesta who rolls her eyes at her mates back.

“Is this the female who handed Azriel’s ass to him?”

The tension in Y/n’s shoulders slip every so slightly and Azriel feels himself relax too. He was prepared to leap inbetween his family and her, to protect which one he wasn’t sure.

“You say that like it’s such an impossibility,” Mor says as she and Amren step through the doorway, “I’ve seen plenty of females hand you your ass, Cassian.”

“But it’s Az,” Cass laughs, “Mister dark and broody spymaster caught off guard by the second female falling on his lap.”

“She did not fall into my lap,” Azriel sighs, “she was in the-“

“Whatever,” Cassian interrupts, waving his hand, “close enough.”

Azriel rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics, recognizing them for what they were, a way to break any tension, to make this seem like a simple breakfast instead of the interrogation it was sure to become. One glance at Y/n told him she wasn’t buying it for one second.

Her eyes travel over them all, stopping briefly on Nesta as their eyes lock. Both females had that cold stare that could freeze oceans. Though she’d given back a majority of the cauldrons power, it still lurked behind Nesta’s steely eyes, that silver fire rolling in warning. Y/n looked just as lethal, those cold eyes almost glowing with the power lurking below her skin, wether it was ice or fire, Azriel wasn’t sure he wanted to find out which she’d use first.

Nesta seemed satisfied with whatever she saw in Y/n’s eyes, grabbing her mates hand to drag him to their seats beside Feyre. Mor slipped into the seat beside Azriel, Amren taking the seat beside her.

“Well,” Rhys says with that charming grin, “now that everyone is here I’d like to introduce our lovely guest, Crown Princess of Terrasen, Y/n Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.”

“Now that’s a mouth full.” Mor whistles as she piles her plate full of sweet pastries and fruits, “lovely to meet you, Princess.”

“Y/n will do.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the fangs,” Cassian says when her sharp canines peak through her lips.

Azriel keeps one eye on the female next to him as he pretended to be interested in the food on his plate. Her arms were crossed over her stomach, her mask not slipping despite the eyes weighing her down.

“What is this place?”

Rhys raises a brow at her, “would you like to eat first before we get to the nitty gritty?”

Y/n nods towards the food, “I’d like to know exactly who and what I’m dealing with before I accept food from fae I don’t know. Didn’t anyone ever teach you stranger danger?”

Eat, eat, tell her to eat. Azriel tries to quiet the shadows, getting annoyed with how insistent they were. As if she heard them, Y/n glances at him, frowning at the little wisps that stray to close to her.

Rhys looks ready to give her a sarcastic response but Feyre rolls her eyes and butts in, “you are in Velaris, the heart and soul of our territory, the Night Court.”

“You’re the leaders of this place,” Y/n states more than asks.

“High Lord and Lady, few of many on this continent,” Feyre nods, “how’d you know.”

“I’ve dealt with plenty of royals,” Y/n shrugs, “Queens and Kings, Lords and Ladies, Emperors and Empresses.”

That peaks everyone’s interest, Azriel can feel the curiosity in the air. When Quinlann had arrived, she’d been at war with the Asteri, the ruling power of her world, despite having kings and queens, they all answered to the immortal, intergalactic parasites, as Quinlann had put it. She and her mate had succeeded in ridding their planet of the monsters, but who knew where else these creatures lived.

“What is your home like?” Mor asks, the question seemingly harmless, but depending on the answer could bring a whole world of consequences.

Y/n examines her, not missing the hidden question beneath is your world a threat to our own, “much like your own it would seem. We’ve been at peace for the last 25 years. Until a gate opened up and ripped me away from my family.”

There’s the briefest change in her then, that mask slipping just enough that Azriel recognizes it, grief. She’s upset, homesick, won’t eat. It made sense now, she’d said she’d been with her father when the gate had taken her, when she’d been dumped onto a foreign land surrounded by strangers she couldn’t understand. She must have been terrified.

“Before you ask, I have no idea how or why the gate opened, or why it took me,” she continues, “it shouldn’t have been possible. None have been opened since the lock was forged during the war.”

“War?” Cassian’s brow raises in question, “what lock?”

It seems to set her back into a memory, her eyes not entirely focused on the male who’d asked, “the war against the Valg. Demons from another world who liked the taste of ours. The fight against them spanned over centuries, over multiple wars, my ancestor was able to lock the King away with a stolen object not meant for her to use, but for that there was a price demanded from the gods who’d made the lock in the first place, an heir of her blood to forge a new lock, to open a gate and send them to their true home, my mother. Queen Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, she almost died paying their price, and in the end they betrayed her anyway.”

Anger simmered in her eyes, Azriel could feel heat radiating off of her, that fire under her skin wanting to come out.

“What became of them?” Rhys asks.

She takes a moment to rein that fire in and then she meets the High Lord’s eyes, “she killed them all.”

A silence ripples through the room, her mother had killed her world’s gods. Were they like Midgard’s asteri, Prythian’s daglan, or maybe their own kind of nightmare.

“She locked the gates, fell through time and space, through hundreds of worlds, guided back by my father who would not let that mating bond slip through his fingers. When she’d come back, she had a fraction of her power left, the power that could end the valg Queen and King and save them all.”

“How did they win?” Nesta asks in the quiet that follows.

A smile, not a smirk finds Y/n’s lips and Azriel’s shadows dance towards her. He barely keeps them in check, one resting on the edge of her chair before it was reined back in. He catches the curious look sent his way by Rhys. He’d surely hear more of that later.

“My Aunt Yrene,” she says, “a healer, the valg were vulnerable to their touch, she took the evil shriveled soul of the valg King and turned him to nothing but a black stain on the floor. We put a rug over it.”

A surprised laugh slips out of Mor, “please tell me it’s hideous.”

“The tackiest thing I’ve ever seen, they let me paint on it as a child. It’s covered in bad stick figures of my uncles.”

They’d asked her questions until it was nearing lunch time. Cassian had about fallen out of his chair when she’d told them of the witches and their wyverns. From the look in Amren’s eye, Y/n knew that if she’d ever met Manon, the world would tremble in fear.

Rhys had been particularly interested in her mother’s journey through worlds, he had an uncanny feeling about it that he couldn’t quite explain. Feyre and Nesta had been shocked to learn that her mother was half human. Mor had asked her millions of questions that she could barely keep up with.

During it all, Azriel had been silent at her side. No questions on his lips but she could see the wheels turning in his head, could almost hear the whispering shadows that danced closer and closer to her every chance they got. She’d felt one drifting over her elbow for a moment before Azriel had glared right at the curious little shadow and it flew back to his side.

They’d slowly stopped their questioning and then they left one by one, Amren had left to look into this worlds knowledge on Wyrd markings and gates, Cassian and Nesta had said something about a training session, Rhys and Feyre needed to go relieve the third Acheron sister from babysitting duty and Mor had desperately wanted to see her nephew.

And just like that, it was down to Y/n and Azriel. She assumed he was still on babysitting duty, despite their apparent trust in her. She didn’t blame them for being cautious, Wyrd knows she’d not let a single one of them out of her sight if the roles were reversed.

Y/n stood stretching out her sore muscles, an involuntary groan slipping past her lips as she lifted her arms above her head. They’d been sitting there for hours and her body still aches from the events of yesterday.

“You didn’t eat anything,” his cool voice startles her, deep and slightly gravely.

She glances down at him, noting the way his eyes drag up from that small sliver of skin at her waist. The clothes we’re comfortable, yet much more revealing than anything she’d been used to. She can’t help the smirk that rests on her lips as she looks down at the handsome male, she could get used to clothes like this.

“I’m not hungry,” she shrugs, moving through the room, glancing towards the huge windows that showed the vast city far beneath them.

“You haven’t eaten since you’ve been here,” he says, eyes tracking each of her movements.

“Oh? And how would you know that,” she looks pointedly at the shadows, “I thought I told you to keep wandering eyes to yourself.”

He simply shrugs, “they do what they want.”

“Clearly.” She turns towards the door, “are you to play babysitter all day? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

She’s out the door before he’s has the chance to reply. The place was massive, she’d memorized the walk from her room to the dining hall, but the amount of halls that laid around told her she’d only seen a small portion of what the place had to offer.

“Would you care for a tour?” Azriel’s suddenly standing to her side.

“Babysitter and tour guide,” she snarks, exploring down the hall, “A double threat.”

“I’ve been told to keep any eye on you.” He looks down at her, “and that’s what I plan to do.”

“Oh I have no doubt about that.” She turns into a large living space littered with comfortable looking couches and chairs, a doorway leading to a balcony against the far wall. “I’m sure you’re a male who takes his duties very seriously.”

She moves towards that door, towards the open air beyond, Azriel following close behind. She could feel the wind beyond, begging to caress her wings, she’d shift and fly for hours and hours, maybe she could fly home.

“You could make this easy for both of us,” he says, letting a shadow block her path, “and quit trying to run away from me.”

“Now who said I was trying to run away,” she flashes an overly sweet smile over her shoulder, one that she can tell gets under his skin.

“You’re not a prisoner,” he almost growls, “but if you choose to make this harder than necessary, I have no problem tying you to a chair.”

She snorts, “Kinky, but no thank you, I’m not interested.”

He doesn’t respond, that carefully crafted expression not shifting an inch, though his shadows give him away. They writhe around him, reaching for her and pulling back over and over, like he was trying not to strangle her.

“Tell you what,” she says, “I’ll stick around you like glue if you let me go for a quick flight.”

She doesn’t hide the longing glance she gives the balcony, whenever she was stressed or upset her and her father would go flying, they would fly until she was ready to talk about what was eating at her, or until she tired herself out and he would take her home and tuck her into bed just to go fly the next morning. Y/n couldn’t think of a time she’d been more stressed than now, stuck in a foreign world with no way home, surrounded by powerful fae who she didn’t trust not to bury a dagger between her shoulders the second she turned around, depsite how kind they had been.

“Fine.”

Her eyes meet with warm hazel, surprise not hidden on her face. She would’ve thought he’d fight back harder, keeping her here, where she couldn’t fly away was safer, easier. But he’d agreed, and she gives him the first genuine smile she’d had since she’d arrived and says, “Thank you.”

He nods once, “after you.”

She’s out the door in seconds, shifting with a flash of white light, and diving over the edge of the balcony towards the city far far below.

Azriel was regretting his choice to let her fly, simply due to the fact that she was so damn fast. Despite the chill in the air, she flew over Velaris with such speed, the air biting his wings as he tried to keep up. She zigzaged over the city, following streets up and down, from the cliffs of the house all the way to the open mouth of the Sidra. They flew over the bridge into the Rainbow, the artists quarter and almost like an invisible string tugged her towards it, they ended up at one of the many amphitheaters.

Music of practicing artists flowed out, preparing for a concert later that evening, there was no single melody, a mesh of different tunes that somehow melded together into a new song of its own.

Y/n landed on a high wall of the amphitheater, that flash of light, and then she was sitting precariously on the edge, as if there wasn’t a steep drop directly behind her to the streets below. Azriel landed next to her, carefully sitting down with a comfortable distance between them. It felt wonderful to rest for a few seconds, letting the sun warm his wind chilled wings.

He watches her, the way she leans towards that music as if she couldn’t help but be drawn to it. There’s a longing look in her eyes, a sadness that cracks that carefully constructed mask to pieces. Azriel wants to comfort her, he’s overcome by the sudden need to fix whatever is wrong, but he was never good at that, so he just sits beside her, mouth firmly shut.

“One of the first things my mother did after the war was rebuild the theaters,” she says quietly after several minutes, “my earliest memory is sitting in the Queen’s box, they’d written a symphony about the final battle, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I can still hear the horn that signaled my mothers arrival.”

Azriel listened carefully, “Your mother seems to be a brave warrior.”

“She didn’t have a choice but to be,” Y/n whispers, “Most of my family didn’t.”

“You seem to be a warrior yourself,” he says, “were you given a choice.”

Her eyes don’t stray from the players below, “Yes and no, my parents insisted I train, they wanted me to be prepared for anything, I wanted to anyway, mostly because I wanted to grow up to be just like them. My father is one of the strongest fae warriors in the world, Rowan Whitethorn, soldiers talk about him around camp fires like he’s a myth. He and my uncles, his cadre, oversaw my training. My mother too, she’d once been a renowned assassin, I’d begged and fought with her to teach me everything she knew until she got sick of me and relented.”

He could see that, the way she struck fast and quietly during their first encounter, she moved with the grace of a dancer, struck with the strength of a warrior.

“Quite the family,” he says, searching for anything to lighten the mood, something Rhys or Cassian would say, “I’m sure bringing home boys was interesting.”

She laughs, and he can’t help but enjoy the sound, “you have no idea, not only do you have to impress my parents, but also the kings and queens of several nations. I made the mistake of bringing a boy home when Manon was visiting from the witch lands. She tried to introduce him to Abraxos, I don’t think I ever saw him again.”

From what they’d heard of the witch Queen, Azriel hoped the boy had just fled the kingdom, instead of becoming dinner.

She goes silent, and a shadow whispers in Azriel’s ear, she wants to go home, sad, very sad.

“Would you care to eat now?” Azriel asks, raising to his feet, “I know flying works up my appetite.”

She flashes him a saccharine smile, one that does its best to hide the pain but it can’t hide her eyes, “are you asking for a date? I thought I told you I’m not interested.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the slight twitch of his lips, “Trust me, Princess, you’re not my type either.”

She climbs to her feet, and Azriel finds that stretch of exposed skin at her waist as she turns to him, the scent of pine, snow, and embers drifting towards him on the wind.

“I’m everybody’s type.” Her tone lowers, dripping with charm, the kind that could make men and women crawl on their hands and knees. “Think you can keep up this time?”

Without warning she jumps off the back of the tall amphitheater. Azriel has a brief moment of panic, shadows whipping out to try and catch her, wings flaring as he goes to dive after her. Then, brilliant white light blinds him for a second, and that red tinged hawk shoots past him, letting out a cry that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

He swears, jumping off that ledge and shoots into the sky behind her.

[elexaria]

Simon Riley who had been on a lookout for a particular peer of his after high school, sweet little girl who normally did all of the schoolwork for him. Even behind the teachers back. Even when their handwritings never, ever matched up; but the teachers only let her off because, at the very least, he was passing with an A.

Sweet, somewhat nerdy!Reader who actually felt bad for a guy, in general just a person, going through such a rough time when in reality school would only fuck up people into being robots for the government and absolutely do no help for the post puberty and traumatized Teenager!Simon. She tries to have sweets on her for whenever he pops in, also tries her hardest to be nice to the other Riley. Sweet young lady Reader who somehow becomes well known around their high school after winning a last minute game in volleyball, followed by basketball, tennis, track, and soccer. Medals and whatnot. Even earned a goddamn picture in the Coach’s office — the female coach, the male one who seemed to be more like a father to sweet Reader.

Sweet!Reader who is suddenly gone. Desk of hers absolutely empty. No pens, no pink notebooks mixed with pastels. Not her signature backpack in sight. No scent of hers, no constant chirping, no glances that arrived at Simon once she caught glimpse of him in the hallways right before first period. Third period feels… loud. Ironic since there’s a pin-drop silence, even breathing. He normally has the rest of the periods with her from then out, until seventh period. He could recite her entire schedule.

Simon can’t help fidgeting, biting his tongue from asking where she is. Not to be nosy, not to be teased, outwardly and fucking pushed into the lockers teased. Perhaps she was coincidentally absent?

Years pass on, evidently screaming she was, in fact, gone. Even on missions, Simon can’t help but glance everywhere. He’s more fucked up, a bitter version, working exactly for the monarchy (almost forgot he’s British, for God’s sakes) and saving his people.

And just one day, one day that everything seemed normal for Johnny and the rest of Simon’s boys, he catches a goddamn glimpse of her. Her face, specifically. Rushing around, apron around her waist and down her thighs. Appropriate attire of a waitress serving a man with a comically huge cigarette and in a suit whilst speaking to another duplicate of his.

His grip on his whiskey tightens.

(Andddddd you continue!!!)

-🍓

ohoho, strawb anon you genius >:)

simon feels his chest tighten up, his grip on his drink tightening as he glances at the mom and pop diner across the street. no… could it..?

before he can indulge himself with another thought, gaz nudges simon gently. “you alright there lt?” he asks sincerely, an eyebrow raised as he tries to figure out what simon was glancing at. he just grunts in response, relaxing his shoulders as he downs the last remaining drops of whiskey. “thought i saw someone. ‘scuse me—“ he murmurs in response, standing up from the pub booth as he saunters past gaz and up and leaves. when one of the lads asks where he’s going, simon grumbles out a ‘goin for a fag’ while lifting up a ciggie and his lighter.

simon leans against the alley wall that faces the diner, deep in thought as he exhales plumes of smoke while glaring right at the restaurant. come on, he thinks to himself, show yourself. he begins to wonder if he was just seeing things, like you’re an oasis in the middle of the desert or something. wishful thinking, he muses to himself.

and just when he pushes himself up from off the wall, his lips drawn into a thin line in disappointment— he spots her.

she’s absolutely beautiful, breathtaking even. the faint crows feet around his eyes crease as his gaze softens. it’s funny how time has treated them both. one of the only friends he had considered himself to have during school has found herself working as a waitress, cute pinafore hugging her curves in all the right places— while he’s just a bigger, meatier version of the boy he once was. he’s just a husk of a man now. war’ll do that to a bloke.

he fidgets nervously with the zipper of his windbreaker, chewing the inside of his lip as he contemplates popping over to say hello. would that be weird? hell, would she even remember him anymore? his feet are itching to move, but he’s cemented right there— forced to stare at the diner, and the siren within that seemingly tempts him.

with a groan, simon pulls out his phone to text the group chat— “gonna head off, see you back on base” before shoving his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. and with a clear of his throat, he steadily paces across the road to the mom and pop diner. simon feels sick with anticipation, a feeling he’s never really felt before in his life. even when he had found the bodies of his family, even through the torture— he’d never felt quite a strange amalgamation of emotions before. and that really freaked him out.

the diner’s door bell rings, the dulcet tones of doo wop music playing in the restaurant greeting simon when he steps inside. he waits patiently in the small foyer, calloused fingers reaching out to smooth over the creased laminate menu on display. and his heart damn near falls out of his ass when the waitress greets him with a friendly smile.

“hi there! welcome to pop’s EZ diner! my name is ____ and i’ll be your waitress today!” you greet enthusiastically, beaming up at the stranger stood in front of you, awkwardly glaring right into your soul with hauntingly beautiful stormy blue eyes. it was kind of creepy, but weirdly endearing. you just wrote it off, assuming he was socially awkward— after all, he clears his throat and struggles to find the words to say for almost a minute before finally opening his mouth.

“uh… hello. you don’t—“ simon pauses, clearing his throat again as his hands continue to fidget with the menu, his gaze nervously flitting from the menu back to you. “you don’t happen to recognise me, do ya? simon? simon riley? from st matthews?” he says, the timber of his voice itching the back of your brain in a pleasing way. st matthews? how did he know where you went to school?

you shake your head politely, nervously tucking your notepad and pen back into your pinafore pocket. “oh, um. sorry, i don’t—“ you reply, offering him a sympathetic smile. the man, simon, turns bright pink— again, nervously clearing his throat as he nods, lowering his head as he turns on his heels to head back out the diner. “oh, sorry. nevermind.” he murmurs, raising his hand politely to you before his hand reaches for the door handle.

and then it clicks.

oh. my. god.

it’s been YEARS since you had thought about simon riley, and suddenly your mind was being overwhelmed with all these memories of helping a teenage simon out in school. your eyes widen, a hand reaching out to gently grip on his windbreaker sleeve. he freezes, half glaring and half shocked as he turns to face you. but the expression on simon’s face eases when he realises that he was right, it was you.

“simon riley? oh my god—“ you gasp out, eyes wide as you look up at him with a dumbfounded expression, one that sends a shiver down simon’s spine.

what an interesting reunion this would turn out to be..

[hotchgirlsummer]

mess of mine ⤷ aaron hotchner x reader

summary ⤷ aaron hotchner never expected to find an adorable woman when he was out asking around about their unsub. turns out she's all he needs to brighten up his life.

pairing ⤷ aaron hotchner x fem!bimbo!reader

warnings ⤷ unsub takedown. unsub has a knife. mentions of typical cm violence, killing, and general disdain towards women. rossi calls the reader a bimbo lmao

word count ⤷ 6k words

a/n ⤷ bear with me as i am obsessed with the idea of a bimbo being with aaron in the most adorable way possible 😭 and i dont meant bimbo in a derogatory way! but just someone who isn't book smart ig? the reader in this fic i imagine to be so good with fashion in styling so yeah... i know i didnt do justice with the whole narrowing down the search for an unsub or the way they handled the take down but i have to admit this is just self-indulgent as i want be aaron's brainless girl ❤️ anyway, feedback is appreciated for this! might turn this into a mini series so yeah. happy holidays!

✪

“Excuse me, may I speak with you?” A deep voice made Y/N turn around from where she was organizing some of the new clothes that had just arrived. Smiling at the dark-haired man who stood in a crisp suit, she looked at his clothes and pouted, “I’m sorry but we don’t usually sell those suits, we do have some pastel ones in any case you’re interested in those instead.”

Hotch followed the direction in which she pointed and was surprised to see a couple of suits that are, to her credit roughly in his size, but instead of the neutral tones he’d go for they were in pastel pink and purple. Shaking his head and biting down a small smile he pulled for his badge and presented it to her, “Thank you for the recommendations but I’m afraid that’s not what I’m here for.”

Upon looking at the badge her eyes failed to focus on how he was part of the FBI and instead chuckled when she noticed his name, “Heh, Ay-ay-ron.” Her mispronunciation of his name caused his eyebrows to furrow as he gently corrected her, “Aaron, ma’am. Not Ay-ay-ron, I’m afraid.” Her little bubble popped when she looked into his eyes, mesmerized by the deep brown orbs she shook her head and clarified, “Oh I knew that, that was just from the Peele & Key skit. Never knew anyone named Aaron so couldn’t tease anyone by it.”

“Right,” came Hotch’s sharp reply, worried that their possible lead might be a bust due to the witness presenting signs of being dopey due to addiction. “Is there a back office where I can speak to you in private?” She pointed towards a door that had a curtain in front of it, “We can go there, we never let anyone in there because that’s where our safe and transaction lists are!”

As pleased as he was to hear that they keep a record of their transactions, he was becoming more and more alarmed at how easily she was giving away confidential business information. Inside the small room that he concluded acted as their little breakroom with the microwave placed on top of a small fridge, it also served as their surveillance room and like she said, a safe was placed there. He motioned for her to grab a seat and pulled the folder he brought with him. “The reason I’m here today is we were hoping you could point us in the direction of one of your customers.”

Looking up from the files, he was surprised to see that she was looking at him with a giddy smile, “What do you wanna know, Aaron?” Her bliss-like innocence made him think about if he was really going to taint her by telling her the horrors that brought them to this store; but it was quickly shrugged off when he remembered that there was a possibility that she was on some sort of drugs. “There has been a man who may have purchased clothes through your boutique as they have been using the clothes they purchased to redress their victims.”

“How’d you know they bought it from here?” She wondered out loud to which he replied, “We found one of the boutique’s plastic bags near the crime scene. Would you happen to have a log of your transactions?” Deciding against showing her the photos, he simply joined his hands atop the folder and looked at her. She nodded and turned to the computer table where there was a laptop, she placed it in the middle of the table, “Phoebe has me recording customers’ names, what they bought, and how they paid. Just ‘cause last time I had a mom angry with me just because their child bought a top that, like, showed too much cleavage.”

Taking it as she had given him permission to browse through their transactions, Hotch nodded, “And Phoebe is your manager, I’m assuming?” She nodded with a cute smile on her face, “She’s so nice. Real patient with me when I was training. Even taught me tricks on how I can close faster.”

As much as he wanted to direct his full attention to her, he was only able to focus on some parts of it as he was more focused on finding the masterlist of their transactions. Just as he clicked on the file he was greeted with the pop up that was asking him for a password which caused him to look up at her, “It’s asking for a password, would you happen to know what it is?”

For all the times he witnessed someone shake their head, he hated how adorable she looked when she did so with a little pout which made her glossed up lips even more tempting, “Only Phoebe knows it. She changes the password every month and I can’t keep up!” She leaned forward with her manicured nails resting on the top of the table, “One time she mixed in some capital and small letters with some numbers. It was very confusing.”

“I can see why that would be,” Aaron sympathized with her as a small smile broke out of his lipa; normally he’d be irritated with this kind of behavior but there is something endearing about her that made him think otherwise, “Would you mind if I have our technical analyst take a look into it?”

“But how? I don’t know the password and Phoebe didn’t leave a note anywhere!” She was clearly distressed about the whole thing, Hotch could also see the faint traces of frustration at not being able to help further in the investigation. His hand moved as if they had a mind of their own and held onto her smaller one, brushing the back of hers gently, “Well our analyst is like a magician, okay, sweetheart?”

Hypnotized by his caramel eyes and the comfort his touch radiated, she nodded and visibly relaxed, “In the meantime, there is something else you can help me out with, if you’re up for it.” Taking her nod as her consent he then untangled his hand with hers, he tried not to let her disappointed whimper affect him, as he opened the case file and landed on the page where they have already a profile of the unsub, “The man we’re looking for goes here often, he spends a long time looking through the clothes because he’s always looking for a particular detail or design. Whenever you speak to him, he appears nervous or shy, but he has enough charm to have you fooled that he won’t harm you at all.”

Hotch was silently cursing at himself for allowing himself to be distracted at the sight of her glossed up lips pursed as she thought hard about a customer who fit his description; looking at him in an exasperated manner as she pouts at him, clearly frustrated, “I’m sorry, but I can’t focus much right now. I could not even help you out with the password.” He grabbed for her hand once more and stroked the back of it gently, “Don’t be too harsh on yourself, pretty girl,” Instead of expressing surprise like he anticipated she would upon being called the nickname, she seems to be pleased and melts because of it, “Why don’t you close your eyes and take a deep breath,” Following his instructions, she nodded as she closed her eyes and let out a sigh while her hand clutched into his tightly, “Now, go back to a day where he comes in. What do you usually do when the boutique isn’t busy?”

“I like to rearrange the clothes — sometimes I group them by type of clothing, then by color.”

Pleased that she was now calmer which effectively made her able to recall when and how she interacted with the unsub, “That’s good. Now, he walks into the boutique. He sees you rearranging the racks. Does he talk to you right away or go browning?”

“I hear shuffling of the hangers first but I don’t turn yet because I was trying to get rid of the lint in one of the clothes,” She smiles, pleased that she’s being a bit more helpful right now. “Good,” His voice wasn’t the only one soothing her as he was rubbing her knuckles too, “What did he do that drew your attention away from what you were doing?”

“He threw some clothes on the floor, he wasn’t happy with the choices that we had that day.”

“What else did he say or do?” Hotch could see that she was working hard to think back to it, as if the frown lines that were appearing on her forehead wasn’t a clear indicator of it, “He yelled, saying what happened to this store and why did it suddenly turn into a dump. Just because we didn’t have any more available items of what he usually likes.”

She was pouting once more which made his heart flutter once more but the rational part of his brain took over as he inquired, “Were you able to get a good look at his face? Can you make out what he looks like?”

Pursing her lips as she thought about it, she looked at their hands that were still holding onto each other as she spoke, “I did see him, he picked up the clothes and apologies. Said that he just had a bad day at work.”

Hotch smiled and continued to guide her through this interview by saying, “That’s good, now do you see what he looks like, sweetheart?”

“He had very little hair, you know, like a buzz cut. Couldn’t pull it off though,” She giggled as she remembered how uneven the cut looked, “He also had this scar by his cheek,” Using her hand that wasn’t held down, she trailed the tip of her finger to her cheek from her cheekbone down near the side of her lips, “He was taller than me too!” Her excitement of remembering something completely died down when she took a good look at the unit chief in front of her — which worried him slightly but he wouldn’t admit that.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked to which she answered right away, “He was taller than me, but he’s not as tall as you. How tall are you, by the way?”

“6’2. Is there anything else you remember from when you guys spoke?” Aaron felt flustered once more upon her taking interest in him but was able to school his features to not give that surprise away. But his resolve was once again almost crumbling down as she tapped her fingers against his knuckles as she thought hard about her interactions with the unsub, “He returned an item once. Said that when he came up he only noticed a stain there. Phoebe told me to not accept items that have stains or any dirt in them, we always throw the clothes in the wash, you know? But there was this whole queue behind him that I just accepted the return even though I wasn’t supposed to!”

Her whine just added to the long list of what made her even more precious in his opinion as he nodded, “Do you remember where you placed this clothing? Would you mind if I took a look at it?”

Nodding she stood up and led him out of the little break room that they were in walked through the shop’s main floor — and what took the tenured profiler aback was how she did not let go of his hand, which definitely caught sight of Rossi wo was in the middle of a phone call with Garcia when he shot a smirk at the two. When a door opened to reveal another room with a washing and drying machine, and a small sink. “This is where we clean and prepare the clothes before we display them outside.”

Removing her hand from where it was engulfed in his larger one, she rifled and was looking through the four laundry baskets that were in there. Spotting the blouse he returned, she was about to pick out the blouse when he stopped her gently by pulling her arm, “Let me go through them, please.”

She nods and steps aside as she watches him put on some gloves before rifling through the baskets, “Why wouldn’t you let me help you look for it?” Hotch paused briefly and looked back at her, seeing how there was a somber look on her face as she wondered that. “You mentioned that there was dirt on the item he returned, yes?”

Nodding her head she hummed her agreement while he pointed at her hands, “Well I don’t want your pretty hands catching onto the dirt, not when your nails look good.” Complimenting a girl felt foreign to him as he hadn’t done so in a while, but it didn’t feel creepy at all. He felt vindicated when she smiled brightly and displayed one of her hands, “Thanks for noticing! I just got the shellac color done yesterday. I did a purple color last month and decided to go back to my favorite color, pink!”

Her giggles helped ease the dread he felt at the pit of his stomach upon finding the blouse that was definitely returned by their unsub. The stain she was referring to looked like blood and soil. Reaching for his back pocket, he reached for the evidence bag he carried with him in case they were to find any pieces of evidence that were hopefully going to be useful in their investigation.

“This is the blouse he returned, yeah?” He asked her, showing the stained article now in the bag. She nodded her head, “That is the one. Do you want me to clean it off before you go?”

Smiling at her well-meaning attitude he shook his head before disposing of the gloves he wore in the trash bin that was nearby. “It’s all good, sweetheart. Don’t worry your pretty little self about it, alright? I’m gonna have to take this as evidence, can you let Phoebe know that?”

She nodded her head with a smile, “I’m sure she’ll understand. She’s nice like that, she won’t take it off my paycheck.” Gleaming at his earlier compliment she then smiled and opened the door for them to exit the tiny room. “Will I see you again?” Her voice sounded small and a bit disappointed, but he tried not to show he was feeling the same as he reached for his coat pocket and handed her his calling card. “Under these circumstances? I hope not.”

Tilting her head as she accepted the card and wondered what he meant, she had a small pout that looked very much like she wanted to be kissed. Instead, he clarified for her, “What I meant is you should call me the next time you see the buzzcut man, okay?”

“Oh! I can do that!” She cheere happily before continuing on, “Gonna call you and let you know that he’s trouble and he’s here!”

“Maybe don’t say that directly,” He warned her as he rubbed her forearms reassuringly, “Instead use a code. When you call me, tell me how you’d love for the food delivery to come right now. That way, he won't think that the FBI will be looking for him.”

Gasping at how well-thought his plan was, she giggled and jokingly gave him a pat on his shoulder as if to congratulate him, “That was so good, Aaron! You’re smart and handsome!” He wanted to prolong their conversation for as long as they could but of course the odds were against them when Rossi walked over to where they were standing over as he informed his former mentee, “Sorry to interrupt, but we got a hit and they need us back at the precinct.”

Nodding his head back to his mentor, Hotch then shot one last smile to her before offering his hand for a shake. “Thanks so much for your help, sweetheart. Keep in touch, okay?” Shaking his hand with a bright smile she nodded, “I like it when you call me sweetheart, but that’s not really my name, you know? It’s Y/N.”

“See you around then, Y/N.”

With that, the two sadly let go of the other’s hand and went back to normal, back to the reality that they had to work. As he exited the store and went ahead to maneuver the car back to the precinct, he could feel Rossi’s teasing grin at him. “What?”

“Sweetheart, huh?” Came Rossi’s reply which led Aaron to be defensive about it, “She was a bit unsettled at first. I was just trying to calm her down.” The Italian man just raised his eyebrows, getting even more suspicious if anything, “Sure, that’s all that was. Wasn’t like you found her attractive at all.”

“She is attractive, but I could also see that she was way too delicate for the horrors that we usually face,” Hoping that was enough to persuade the senior profiler that there wasn't any budding affection on his part. “All I’m saying is she is a gorgeous woman, but even you have to admit that she doesn’t seem all too smart though. She’s what would be commonly referred to as a bimbo.”

Thankful that they had arrived back in the police station so he would not have to hear what sounded like judgemental comments, Aaron slammed the driver’s door a little too hard before defending her, “How is that bad? Save your unhelpful judgements, Dave.”

Back at the station, once he had given the blouse to the precinct’s forensic team to be analyzed, the rest of the team had been brainstorming on their possible suspect pool. It didn’t take less than an hour for forensics to get back to them with a hit.

“Garcia, will you please give us the rundown on John Wesley please?” Spencer requested as soon as he phoned their technical analyst. “Born and raised in Fairfax, Virginia. Well, really raised by a single mom who did not register who the father to her baby was. He has a record for trespassing and peeping when he was only twelve, yikes. Said that since his mom had to work two, almost three jobs to support herself and him he had to be left alone in their apartment complex where sometimes peeped into the unit next door, turns out the not so good example neighbor would bring home prostitutes and saw how rough he was with them.”

“That would explain why there were bruises on the women, he must have thought that beating them up is some sick way of showing affection,” JJ deduced as Penelope unsealed court records and found out more about John. “Seems like John saw like a counselor or a therapist and he admitted that he liked the idea of women being dolled up after a rough session.”

“Seeing the prostitutes go about the rest of their day after a paid session must have left that impression on him. And he didn’t really fully comprehend how that set up works,” Reid thought out loud, to which everyone agreed.

“What’s his education, personal and work life like Garcia?” Rossi wondered.

“Well education, not so much finished high school but without any recognition you know? Took a couple of classes at the local community college but didn’t really graduate from it. Personal, still legally single by the looks of it. Work life? Oh, would you look at that.”

“Why? What is it, Garcia?” Derek was the one who snapped Garcia out of her shock. “Well it turns out he works at one of those mannequin factories. And it seems like he’s been getting reprimanded by his superior because he liked putting marks on them that looked similar to bruises. And for a while it seems like he also took some home or if not, he brought some clothes to work to dress them up.”

“That’s more than enough, did he go to work today Garcia?” Blake wondered. “He should be there, his boss had him scheduled for today until 6pm,” They all looked at the time and saw that it was 30 minutes before his shift ended. “He clocked in but has yet to clock out by the looks of it.”

“Garcia, we’re gonna need his work and home address, please.” Rossi said to which the peppy analyst declared “Done and done, stay safe crime fighters.”

“Blake, you and Reid head over to his workplace to see if he’s still there; if not, gather as much information as you can about him and how he treats the mannequins, maybe that will give us a clear COD. Morgan, you and JJ head over to the house, see if he’s holding another woman there. As soon as you see him, apprehend him. Dave and I will stay here in case there’s any further development, call for backup if needed.”

With that, the team dispersed into their assignments; Rossi slid over a cup of coffee Hotch’s way who was now engrossed as he was reading over Wesley’s file. “You know I didn’t mean anything bad with what I said earlier, right?”

That caught his attention as he looked up from the tablet and squinted a little, “Pardon me?” Rossi only chuckled as he sat down across from the unit chief before clarifying, “I knew what you meant when you mentioned that your sweetheart,” Hotch rolled his eyes at that but didn’t really feel any distaste towards him or his words, “Was a little softer than the ones we usually interact with. But I do see why you would be attracted to her — she’s kind, thoughtful, and can literally and figuratively bring color to your life.” Aaron knew that he was pertaining to how colorful her entire outfit and personality was and had to bite down a chuckle as he instead redirected his focus to the tablet, “You got all that from a few seconds of interaction?”

“What can I say? I’m a good profiler,” Now the two laughed at his little joke but did know that it was indeed the truth. “She’d be good for you, Aaron. She lives nearby so there’s no reason for you to not pursue her.”

“How about the fact that she’s younger than I am?” He remarked a bit morosefully to which he was surprised that Rossi only scoffed at, “So? It’s not like she’s underage or anything. She’d be providing you with her consent so there’s really no reason for you to feel guilt or anything like that.”

Opening his mouth to offer another rebuttal he paused mid-thought when he was suddenly hit with a realization, “Wait, why does it seem like you’re certain of her age?”

This time Rossi showed him Y/N’s file that Garcia had sent over to his phone, “Had Penelope do a background check on the employees of the boutique earlier. And let’s just say she has a squeaky clean record and is definitely of age.”

Aaron could not believe how hard Dave was so persistent with the whole thing; but when it all boils down, he’d rather have a supportive friend than one who discourages him to go out there and date. “Well I’ll leave it up to fate if I should make a move; besides I don’t even have her phone number.”

Just as he was about to be yelled at by his mentor, Hotch’s phone rang and on cue, he answered it despite the number unlisted to his contacts he answered it and greeted them by saying, “Hotchner.”

✪

“And I got that good girl faith in that tight little skirt,” Just as she was about to sing the next line, the bell above the door rang, signaling that someone just walked in, “Welcome to Beauty Boutique! Can I help you with anything?” The cheerfulness in her voice died down upon seeing who the man was. She gulped down her nervousness, hoping that the buzzcut man would notice her feelings of unease.

“Just browsing through; thanks though, sweetheart.” An invisible shiver went down her spine; I liked it more when Aaron called me that. Heh, Ay-ay-ron, she thought to herself. But that also reminded her that she was to call him if he ever showed up. Dialing his number on her phone, she bit the skin of her fingertips anxiously as she waited for him to answer.

“Hotchner,” Came his gruff greeting. She giggled for a little before plastering a serious face on before finding the words, “Hi, I’d like the food to be delivered, please.”

On the other end of the phone, Aaron could feel the dread in him knowing that Y/N was within arm’s reach of a dangerous killer. “Alright, we’re coming Y/N. Stay calm and don’t let him see panic in your face okay, sweetheart?” He looked at Dave and nodded towards the precinct’s doors; the man nodded and headed out to let the cops and the rest of the team know that they knew about Wesley’s whereabouts.

She nodded her head against the phone as she secretly watched the unsub’s movements — who was currently busying himself in the dress section of their store — before asking, “How long until the food gets here? I don’t want it to be too cold, you know?”

Chuckling against the phone as he watched how Dave drove with urgency he assured here, “We’ll be there in less than ten minutes. Y/N, do you remember if the back door is unlocked?”

“The back door? It’s unlocked but a bit heavy for me to open, it’ll be better if you come up to the store’s front for the food,” She answered as she recalled how much she hated throwing out the garbage during closing time as it was like lifting a whole tree when she opened the back door.

“Okay good, another thing — if you can try to keep the unsub, or the buzzcut guy, within the store that’d be great. If not, make sure to keep note of which direction he goes into, alright?”

“I’m not sure I can try your spicy specialty. But I’ll give it a try. How long til it gets here again?” She asked nervously, she had eye contact with the unsub and she didn’t like the smile he shot her.

“Almost there, sweetheart. I promise,” Aaron said as he hung up the phone call when he noticed that they were a block away and had to park their vehicle. As they stepped outside he gave instructions to uniform officers to take the back entrance and that it could be a little heavy when they try to open it but it is unlocked for their convenience. “I take it back, Aaron,” Dave spoke as he and Aaron cautiously made their way to the front entrance, “Your girl’s a lot smarter than I gave her credit for.”

“Not my girl,” He said, but Hotch did admit that it sounded nice to refer to her as that.

✪ “Got some food delivered here?” Came the unsub’s question as he brought some items to the till. She nodded as she began ringing up the items. “I did, it’s lunchtime,” She tried to convince him and by the looks of it, he bought it, “Did you enjoy your shopping experience today?”

“Sure did,” he pointed to the clothes, “Found great deals on these great clothes,” Shooting her a wink that didn’t do anything to make her feel attracted to him he tried flirting by saying, “Even had a pretty view when I did so.”

An awkward laugh was all that she could give him before placing all of the items in a bag before telling him, “Your total for today is $29.54, how would you like to pay for that today?”

Reaching for his back pocket, he grabbed for his wallet before answering, “On cash, beautiful.” She just smiled as he handed her a fifty dollar bill. Opening her till she had her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he counted his change but was stopped when he held her hands. Her audible gasp just caused him to smirk even more as he said, “Say, why don’t you keep the change, and in return you can just let me take you out on a date hm? That sounds like a fair trade to me.”

“I can’t do that, my boyfriend wouldn’t like it if I went with someone who wasn’t him,” Came her reply. The man rolled his eyes as he held a tighter grip on her hand causing her to yelp out in pain, “Cut the bullshit. I’ve been here a lot of time to know for a fact that a dumb bimbo like you doesn’t have a boyfriend. So when I say we’re going out, we’re going out.”

“James Wesley, this is the FBI; let go of the woman and put your hands up in the air.”

Tears pooled in her eyes upon seeing that Aaron was in the store; this time he ditched his suit jacket and instead had a bulletproof vest. Instead of following his orders he held onto her wrist more and jumped over the counter, pressing his front to her back as he grabbed a blade from his back pocket and pressed it against her throat, “One step close and I’ll slit her throat.”

Unable to hold back her whimpers, Y/N was now crying as she felt the cold touch of the blade against her skin. “Aaron, please,” Her broken cry broke Hotch’s heart, but he knew he had to be smart; she was at the hands of a sadistic man who took pleasure in beating the crap out of women.

From behind her, James scoffed, “Don’t tell me he is the boyfriend you were lying about. Didn’t think you could land a man like him.”

“You don’t have to hurt her, James. She didn’t hurt you, she didn’t give you the false promise of love, right?” Dave negotiated, on the drive over they were given new intel about how he was hurt by his fiancee when she left him for someone who was abusive to her. Thinking that he had to inflict pain on women in order for them to love and stay loyal to him — that coupled with his distorted view of the prostitutes view rough sex — set him on the course of killing and beating up women then dressing them up, much like how the prostitutes went about their night.

“Hurting women doesn’t make them stay, James. Treating and treasuring them right is how you get them to stay,” Hotch added, which didn’t sit well with the unsub as he shook his head, his hold on Y/N getting loose as he didn’t press on the knife to her anymore. “Yeah? Is that how you get this skank?”

“Don’t you dare call her that,” Came Hotch’s cold reply but he was quick to think of a way to get Y/N out of the situation safely. He made eye contact with the uniformed officer that snuck around the back — which for some reason John didn’t notice, but they weren’t complaining about that — he looked at John's shoulder then to the officer's gun. “Shoot in the shoulder?” Mouthed Officer Harrison, to which Hotch mouthed back “Wait.”

“If anything I’m surprised you’re able to hold onto a woman,” Hotch goaded him, but not too much John would take it out on Y/N. “By the looks of it you can’t even hold onto her right.”

As John looked to see his hands he shouted, “Now!” As planned, Officer Harrison shot John’s shoulder while Rossi shot his elbow, causing him to release his grip on Y/N — who immediately ran into Aaron. Face wet with tears buried in his chest as Aaron pressed loving rubs on her back.

“I was so scared, Aaron. Tried not to panic like you said but he had a knife,” She recalled with so much fear in her voice. He soothed her by rubbing her back keeping her eyes focused on him and not on John who was now being assisted by Rossi and Harrison out of the store and into the cop car. “I know, sweetheart. And you did so well, I saw you talking to him and trying to not let him get away. Wasn’t your fault okay?”

Wiping her tears with his thumbs he tried to console her, “He’s a bad guy, no matter how good you treated him he would have been mean to you. But you best believe I would not let that happen.” She felt something warm — whether it were his hands that settled on her cheeks once he was done wiping away her tears or the way he didn’t stop until the unsub was away from her — but she realized she loved how safe and secure he made her feel was what made her feel warm.

“Thank you for saving me, Aaron. You’re the best, you know?” Now it was his turn to be flustered as he chuckled and shook his head, “Was just doing my job, sweetheart. Couldn’t let you have any more dirt in your clothes and hands.”

That elicited a giggle from her, and he was happy to see that she wasn’t now in tears and distressed by earlier events. “If you need someone to talk to, after how bad today was, you can always give me a call, okay?”

“And if I just wanted to talk to you? Or maybe go out with you for a date?” It was adorable to see her ask him, looking smaller than him and so nervous. He nodded and rubbed her cheeks lovingly, “I’d love that, sweetheart. I’d kiss your cute nose but unfortunately I’m still on the job.”

Nodding in understanding, she then smiled, “Don’t be a stranger and shoot me a text okay? Oh! That reminds me,” She stepped out within his reach and grabbed the pastel pink suit that she pointed to earlier and gave it to him, “Please take this! One of the things I’d love to see is you in this. I just know you can pull it off!”

Looking down at the clothing article, he shook his head as he laughed a little at how insistent she was being, “Sweetheart, I like how you have faith in me but I don’t think this will suit me really well.”

“Please? For me, Aaron?” She looked up at him with a pout and knew right then and there Hotch had found his kryptonite. So, with a sigh, he nodded and smiled, “Alright, but you’re gonna have to give me a hand on how to dress up with this suit okay?” Smiling so wide she gave him a hug and hummed, “Yes, yes! Thank you, Aaron!”

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re needed back,” Rossi came and with that the two ended their hug. Y/N smiled at him as she held up her hand and grabbed a scarf and gave it to Rossi. “A little something as a thank you for saving me, Mr.”

“Rossi,” He provided, “Y/N, right?” Rossi offered his hand for a shake to which she accepted and confirmed that it was indeed her name. “Good eye, this will go well with this jacket.”

“Italian suit, right? That scarf’s material shouldn’t rub on it the wrong way.” At her input Rossi smiled at her then at Aaron, “Good catch,” Before bidding adieu to her, “See you around, Y/N.”

She looked at Aaron as if to ask what he meant with his remark but was instead interrupted when Aaron smiled at her and lifted her hand up and kissed her knuckles, “I’ll call you later, sweetheart. Take care for now.”

Feeling bold, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed the tip of his nose, “Thank you, Aaron, for keeping me safe. I’ll be thinking of you.” And he knew that as he walked out of the store and rode back with Rossi to the station, his thoughts would be clouded by her as well. And for the first time in a while, he was glad to have this kind of distraction. She might have been a bit of a mess, but from here on out she was his mess.

part two: i’m a mess but

[highhhfiveee]

safety net

pairing: pornstar!mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: y/n has a bad date. mike just so happens to be there to catch her. wc: 2.3k tags: fluff? angst? just exposition really. no mentions of porn or sex here! just mike being a hero and reader appreciating him errors in here as usual!

part two: 💸

you didn't really do dating.

you'd tried so many times before to no avail. things would start nicely, people making your laugh float into the air and your heart flutter, but it never got past that. anytime you start to think about these things seriously, the other party pulls away. you're always left in the dust, responsible for picking up the pieces of your heart, gluing them back together, and trying again.

it's exhausting and after your last failure, you're not sure you want to try again.

one chance encounter on a dating app changes your mind. you think it's so foolish how easily you fall into it, giggling and kicking your feet at yet another potential partner, but when your first date is coordinated successfully and the second and the third, you begin to feel safe enough to indulge.

for your fourth date, you've arrived at this fancy restaurant in the middle of the city. you're super done up, wearing a dress that you love but have to return in the morning and your tallest pair of heels. your hair is swept up just the way simon, your date, likes it. you never liked it this way, but he calls you "so beautiful" when he sees you like this, and it makes your blood rush in your ears so you wear it up any time you're around him.

simon was nice, but you didn't have much in common; he was a straight-edge tech guy. he went to bed at 10 every night and woke up at 6 every morning, planning his days out in five-minute increments (he'd excitedly showed you his planner and you had to pretend that you were very very interested 💔).

you, on the other hand, woke up at noon on days you didn't have to work, going to bed at 4 am the night before. you never knew what to do and your apartment was covered in sticky notes donning different tasks: "read book". "wash dishes". "mail off package".

you two managed nice, small talk-ish conversation and he made you feel pretty. the only thing you two had in common was your love for coffee.

you're seated at your table and all goes well up until you receive the check, although you're a little bored. you're picking at your dessert and wondering if the art on the walls is real as simon opens the billbook and slides a card in there.

"i have to go to the bathroom. be right back," he stands, craning his head down to place a kiss on your cheek, and then you're alone, finally tuning into the din of the restaurant. it's busier than you realized.

your waitress takes your bill and leaves to tender you out. simon is still using the bathroom, and at first, it's not worrying. you wouldn't be surprised if he got lost on the way there, but after ten minutes, you start to worry.

the waitress returns to your table and you think you're fine to leave, but she sets the billbook on the table, stating, "did you have another form of payment? it said this card was expired."

you shake your head, anxiously blinking your eyes. "expired?" you open the book to see the $400 total at the bottom of your receipt and simon's card tucked behind the plastic pouch. you take it out and inspect the expiration date. three years gone.

"i--i, uh," you begin to panic. you had no idea what to do. you didn't have $400 in your bank account, $405.72 less than that actually. you didn't have anyone to call to spot you; what normal person had a casual $400 to throw at a friend for dinner? if you called your mom, she would laugh over the receiver the whole time, hanging up on you.

the waitress is staring at you, expectantly, but you can't even meet her gaze. in your alarm, you scanned your eyes around the restaurant and caught simon, in his very noticeable purple suit jacket, speed-walking towards the entrance of the restaurant.

you shoot to your feet, taking off your heels, wrangling up your other belongings and dashing after him.

you hear the waitress shout, "ma'am!" behind you but there's no stopping you. what are you gonna do, pay for the meal?

you're pushing yourself in between other patrons, forgetting your manners. you're hyperfocused on simon, keeping track of his head bobbing through the throng of people.

he's made it outside just a little before you, using a brisk pace to walk down the sidewalk.

"simon!" you yell, watching him speed up a bit until he's a phantom around the corner. "simon!!!"

there are some stragglers outside, just a few eyes on the frantic girl holding her heels and screaming. you're sure they think you're drunk, but you don't care.

you scream simon's name one more time. it's shrill and blood-curdling and something you'd never expect to come out of you. you didn't get upset like this, and you know you're truly upset when you feel a tear hit your arm.

you rarely cried, but here you were, breaking down on the sidewalk outside one of the most expensive restaurants in the state. you take a despondent seat on a bench, trying to catch your breath and stop crying. you take your hair down childishly, and the thought of simon liking it sends you back into tears.

you're a blubbering, snot-covered mess when mike sees you. he's exiting the restaurant, asking for his car from valet when he notices you on the bench, staring blankly into the air.

you're beautiful, and he's unsure as to why you're sitting here in tears. no one else decides to check on you. he takes the initiative.

his hand reaches out to your shoulder and it makes you jump, shouting at him to back away from you. he holds up his hands, muttering, "hey, hey. i'm sorry, i don't want to hurt you. i just wanted to ask if you were okay."

you don't expect the voice that comes out of him. its suburban, syrupy tone doesn't quite match his look; his hair is freshly cut and it feels like there's not a single wrinkle in any of his clothes. they look quality, and expensive. the rings adorning most of his fingers give off the same vibe.

great. one of these guys.

"i'm fine," you snap, wiping at your congested nose with the back of your hand. "i don't need saving, especially not from a nice guy like you."

mike laughs, and you're embarrassed to admit to yourself that you like how it sounds.

"who said i was a nice guy? i just asked if you were okay." you shrink away, avoiding his eyes.

"it's not my fault that you give that off. sounds like a you problem."

mike doesn't stop talking to you, which is surprising. even with all the disrespect, he sits beside you and rummages along the inside of his jacket for something to give you.

you don't admit it, but you're thankful for the small plastic package of tissues. "everyone has problems. there seems to be one plaguing you right now," he leans into your shoulder, eyeing you intently. "wanna tell me what it is?"

you're still cleaning yourself up, taking another tissue out to wipe at your ruined makeup when the waitress marches out of the restaurant with two burly security guards behind her. she points to you with zeal, announcing, "that's her."

the security guards make their way over to you, disregarding mike as he asks, "woah, woah, what's going on?"

"this young lady tried to skip out on her bill." you shake your head irritably, standing to your feet. you're not even half the height of these dudes.

"i didn't, my date did. he put an expired card down to pay and then used the bathroom excuse to get out of it." mike shakes his head. in what world would someone try to escape a date with you?

"makes sense, but you still have to pay for the meal."

"how the fuck am i supposed to do that?" you screech, crossing your arms over your chest. "i don't have any money. i have to return this stupid fucking dress in the morning just so i can pay my rent."

the dress is nice. it's a black satin maxi dress with thin straps and a slit up the side. it's fairly simple, but mike can't deny how well it fits you, and how good you look in it.

"i don't know what you're going to do, but you better do something or we're going to have to call the police."

"fucking call them! i don't care," you retort, and so begins your back and forth with the security personnel.

"you don't care?"

"no."

"are you an idiot? you just don't care?"

"okay, one, i'm not an idiot and two, i really don't. this whole situation is fucking stupid. i can't pay the bill, okay? i don't know what to tell you."

"my mom always said that as a female, you should never be broke. maybe it's time for you to stand on that corner right there in that pretty dress and sell your---" the man is cut off by a sharp "hey, watch yourself. i'll fucking kill you." from mike. he steps to the security guards, who retreat a little when they realize he's not joking.

you don't know this man, not even his name, but he asked you if you were okay then and now, he's standing up for you, even after you accused him of being a nice guy. you make a mental note to apologize to him after all of this.

"i'll pay the fucking bill. how much is it?"

"it's $400, mr. schmidt," the waitress says, her face awash with red. Last name basis? How often did he come to this expensive ass restaurant?

mike looks at you and then back to the waitress, saying, "charge it to my tab. tip the bill." The waitress nods excitedly, echoing, "thank you, thank you, thank you" as she scurries back inside with the security guards. They give mike dirty looks the entire way back, giving up just before disappearing into oblivion.

mike faces you. He's a little disheveled in the eyes, the irritation he holds inside written all over his face. somehow, even his scowl is attractive.

you rub your hands over your goosebumped arms, the chill in the air wildly apparent. mike is instantly shrugging his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders, giving you a friendly smile. it's warm inside, and smells like the expensive department store colognes you snuck samples of as a kid. for some reason, you feel at ease.

"i'm sorry about your date. he sounds like a dickhead."

"yeah," you agree, biting at your cracked bottom lip. "i guess it's my fault. i really shouldn't have trusted a guy who planned his day by fives."

"hours?"

"minutes."

mike sucks air between his teeth, cringing at your words. "he sounds like a psychopath."

"maybe he was," you hum, using the lapels of mike's coat to pull it tighter around you. "dodged bullet."

"dodged bullet," he repeats, smirking down at you. his hazel eyes sparkle. you don't know why you feel so... positively unnerved yet tranquil in his presence. who was this man?

"mr. schmidt?" a valet worker in all white exits an expensive-looking, deep gray sports car. the interior looks like a spaceship, and you can't help but crane your neck a little further to get a better look.

you're not paying attention as the worker drops the keys into mike's hand and mike hands him a hundred-dollar bill he fished from his pocket. you're just focused on the car, wondering a million things. how much was it? how was its gas mileage? did it take premium gas or something more?

"do you need a ride home?" mike holds the keys up, jangling them in front of your face. you connect the dots and let out a loud belly laugh, completely blindsided.

"this is your car?"

"i...think so?" he teases, watching the happiness fall from your face. a ride home. why would you want to go home to be alone, once again collecting the jagged pieces of your broken heart from the floor?

mike instantly stiffens. "that was a joke," he clarifies, but you dismiss it with a raise of your hand.

"no no, it was fine, funny even. i just...i don't want to go home right now."

"do you want to come back to mine?" mike doesn't know if it's too forward, but it doesn't hurt to try. you needed company, and nothing would ever compel him to leave you here after everything. he catches the way your face twitches and raises his hands in defense again. "no funny business, i promise. just so you're safe, and not alone tonight."

you don't think over it very long. you'd been to plenty of strangers' houses, and this was only one night. you were sure you could trust this man. after your date from hell and nearly going to jail, what was the harm?

"okay, i'll come. thank you," you muse as mike leads you to the passenger side of his car. he opens the door for you, and you crane your head to him before you sit down. you're so close you can see the flecks in his hazel eyes, the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, every single individual hair that peppers his jaw and mouth. it makes you forget your name.

"i'm y/n, by the way." he nods and smiles at you, wide and bright. suddenly, your legs feel like noodles.

"nice to meet you, y/n. i'm mike."

"mike," you repeat as you lower yourself into his car. "mike."

who knew where this would lead you?

been up all night writing this ayyeeeee, i write SO MUCH! going to work on writing blurbs, i promiseeeeeee. also this is very cute. i'm excited to delve into their story because it will be mostly pwp (for ficlets and blurbs) but definitely more structured for longer fics. can't wait to see where it goes!

[cressidagrey]

Don't wait for the Sky to Clear - Thesan x PeregrynCaptain!Lover x FourthArcheron!Sister

Summary:

The Fourth Archeron sister makes herself a life in the Dawn Court. 

Warnings:

DEFINETLY NSFW. SERIOUSLY. THIS HAS NO PLOT.

Notes:

I...I have no idea where this came from. It popped into my head fully formed a few weeks ago...and this is the result. There is probbaly never going to be a second story in this universe, but it's...interesting, so you'll get it.

(thanks to @tsunami-of-tears for the super pretty dividers!)

“They are nearly as beautiful as you.”

Carys’ lips quirked up in a smile at these words. 

Said in that lazy drawl that she had become so used to over the last few months…her husband. 

Well, one of them at least. 

She let go of the flower petals she had fondled gently, beautiful, colourful tulips, dotted everywhere around the Dawn Court. 

“Flatterer,” Carys said lightly but took his hand as he held it out for her. 

She gained her feet and turned towards him, towards brilliant brown eyes, towards these beautiful white feathered wings that stretched vastly behind his back. Ardin quirked his lips at her.

“Just telling the truth,” Ardin quipped. “Finished with your flowers for the day?” He asked her and she hummed in agreement…pulling deep inside her for that kernel of power she had. 

The flower grew underneath her hands a few inches more. She smiled to herself. 

She didn’t have the power of death…or of the future. This was all the cauldron had decided to give her. She was quite sure that it had been its revenge for Nesta taking more than she should have. 

Carys should probably consider herself lucky that she hadn’t ended up with horns or something like that. 

Letting flowers grow…It was a nice party trick, she supposed. 

It was more useful on the potato fields further away from the Palace than it ever could be in little fields of tulips right here…but she would gladly take it nonetheless.

Granted, it had taken her months to master even that, but it was…it was something. It was all she could do and that suited her just fine.  

“Yes,” Carys agreed and Ardin leaned down to pick up her basket, in which she had kept the flower she had cut for the day, snatching it up and then offering her his arm…as graceful as any human courtier she had ever met had been. 

Sometimes…sometimes she missed it. Being human. 

Carys never voiced that aloud, because she knew that…there weren’t many people that would understand. And the ones that did understand… her sisters…well, that relationship was fraught with tension on a good day. 

Carys couldn’t even fault them. Especially not Feyre…Carys had managed to kick loose a diplomatic incident when she had left the Night Court. 

But she hadn’t been able to stay any longer. Not after…She had been half hysterical with fear. Fear of her sister’s mate of all people, after what happened to Nesta…after they had had enough of her drinking and…other things… and had…pretty much imprisoned her in the House of Wind.

Elain seemingly hadn’t thought about what that could mean for her or Carys…but Carys had thought about it. Carys had realised at that exact moment that if she didn’t do what her sister thought was the right thing to do…she would be the next one kept as a prisoner and the whole thing would be called an intervention. 

Nesta had needed an intervention after the kind of self-destructive behaviour she had indulged in, but the way they had gone about it…it had made Carys terrified. 

And so she had run. 

She had half a mind to take Elain with her but she knew her sister…Elain, most of all…most of all would do whatever she needed to be comfortable and taken care of. 

Elain could be surprisingly cutthroat if need be.

Carys, second oldest after Nesta…the one that had spent years keeping the household running while living in that bedraggled little shed, that had absolutely no talent at archery to be quite frank, but could haul the laundry and cut the wood and stack a fire…that could babysit some of the villagers kids and make sure that they weren’t outright going to starve…that tried to plant potatoes on the tiny plot of land they had and had only been successful half the time…who had mended and hemmed and done anything she could to at least earn her keep. 

Carys, who was considered the ugliest of the sister, to stoutly build, not pretty enough…who even her mother had considered unmarriageable, because who would want an ugly wife with no talents other than maybe cooking and sometimes planting vegetables…

If her mother could see her now…she would be horrified.

“You know, I would prefer it if you called me something else rather than flatterer,” Ardin quipped, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

“Consort?” She suggested drily. That’s what she had heard some people in the palace start to call Ardin, who hated it with a passion. 

But what else to call the husband of a High Lord? Prythian had never had that problem before. Or even a High Lord that had taken not one but two spouses. 

(Probably the one outright shocking thing Thesan had ever done in his life.)

Even when the law in the Dawn Court had been on their side…already changed centuries ago to make it possible for everybody to take as many spouses of any sex as anybody desired, as long as all parties did this of their own free will and were above the age of consent…

 Ardin had drily explained to her that in the ranks of the Peregryn, it wasn’t uncommon for a female to have more than one lover. Or even two. Some had a whole harem of sorts. 

Well, Carys wasn’t going to start that. Two were more than enough as far as she was concerned, thank you very much.                                                                                                                               

“Thanks but I prefer commander of the troops,” Ardin gave back and she smiled at him. 

“The right hand that speaks with the High Lord’s voice and commands in his stead?” She suggested and he just sighed. 

“Cauldron, Thesan came up with it, didn’t he?” Ardin asked and Carys just smiled, saying nothing. “You know, he likes reading poetry and pretends like we don’t know.” 

They did both know about their High Lord's penchant for that…about the sweet little nothings that were whispered in their ears…and the surprisingly filthy things he spewed when he was in the right mood…she loved everything that talented tongue said or did. 

“Husband?” Carys suggested next and he grinned at her, pressing her hand. 

“You could just call me by my name.”

“Ardin, then,” she agreed. 

“Though, of course, you could call me your cauldron-given gift whenever I please you enough to scream my…” she jabbed her elbow in his ribs, smiling apologetically to a long-suffering servant that crossed their path on their way up to their rooms. 

“Not here,” she hissed to Ardin between her teeth. 

“And here I thought we had ruined you so thoroughly that you don’t care anymore,” Ardin quipped. Her shoulders hunched. 

“Humans don’t talk about…that,” she said, her voice quiet. Her cheeks were reddening on their own accord.

She couldn’t help it.  

It wasn’t that she was…ashamed of her husbands. 

She wasn’t. 

But she also knew that if she was still human…this would have never happened. She would have never, never been the one that…She would have never…never taken two husbands. 

There wouldn’t ever have been pleasure like this in her marriage bed. It would have been duty, not love. 

And still…there was a part of her that wanted to keep it to herself. All of it. That didn’t think that anybody had a right to talk about it other than the three of them when they were alone. That thought that…

“I am sorry,” Ardin apologised to her, as he opened the door to their rooms. “I shouldn’t have teased you like that.” He sounded properly contrite now. 

“I should be over it,” Carys responded quietly. 

Overall the human ideas of propriety and modesty and what she shouldn’t do…she shouldn’t blush beet red whenever one of her husbands kissed her outside of the privacy of their rooms. She should be…

She should be able to give them…

“No, you shouldn’t be,” Ardin disagreed, grimacing. “This isn’t…” he stopped his own sentence, as they both heard the slow sound of water filling the bathtub and without a word, they changed direction…her basket of flowers forgotten on a console table.

The bathing chamber was…utterly fae…with a pool worked into the ground that was more than big enough for all three of them. Actually, they had taught Carys to swim in the same. It was more than big enough for that too. 

Thesan was there, lounging relaxed against one of the stone walls, one eye blinking open lazily as he took in the two of them entering. 

A smile appeared on his face, like the sun rising over the horizon and she swallowed at how lovely he looked. 

“There you are,” he greeted them. “I had dinner laid out on the balcony for late.”

“He’s the romantic one,” Ardin whispered playfully and she couldn’t help but smile at her husband as he watched her, dark eyes turning heated, as she started to remove her clothing. 

Ardin helped her after a moment, unlacing the back of her bodice… It was easy enough to slip out of the layers of light, gossamer soft fabric that swathed her body…to pull out the hair comb that held back her reddish brown waves…

She had given up on modesty with the two of them a long time ago. 

And so when she walked into the pool and crossed it to perch herself next to her husband so that she could press a soft kiss against Thesan’s lips…she smiled. 

“Good Evening,” he greeted her as she pulled back, a hand coming up to cup her cheek.  “Did you have a good time?” Thesan asked her. 

“Yes,” Carys agreed. “I gardened a little bit…fed the fish…fixed that shirt that Ardin ripped off you a few days ago…” she quipped with some amusement. “And you?”

“Sat through a meeting about property taxes,” Thesan answered with a hum, as she carded her hand through his damp hair. His dark eyes closed and she shifted, making herself more comfortable, perched on his thigh. 

“You like taxes,” she said softly. He did. It fascinated her that the actual reigning part of being a High Lord, of taxes and making decisions for his court…that was something that Thesan excelled at. He knew all of it by heart too…what was the highest selling export from the Dawn Court, what didn’t sell at all, what they needed from Day or Night or Summer and Autumn…or even Winter and Spring. 

He knew all of that, and he spent many late evenings sitting on his desk, working through his correspondence and doing exactly that. 

Carys left him to him. She wasn’t ready to dabble in politics. And quite frankly, she didn’t think she had any right to it either. 

She had only been in Dawn Court for what felt like a blink of the eyes for most faes, a footnote as far as the history was concerned. And she didn’t think she had any right to rule over faes that were far older and more experienced than she was. 

“It was actually quite interesting,” Thesan agreed with her. 

If she wanted to know something, Thesan was eager to explain it to her, to answer all her questions, but Carys herself kept her own political involvement to the walls of this palace, dealing with servants and cooks and laundry maids and whoever else they hired. 

This was what she had been raised to do, this was what she was good at…and when she got to use the math she had once learned as the daughter of the Prince of Merchant to calculate the expenditures of the palace and cut the fat so to speak…then she was more than happy to do that and spent the rest of her time growing medicinal herbs and do her best to earn her keep.

She left it to Thesan’s sister to deal with the nobility and some of the simpering ladies who treated her like a novelty…who stared at a cauldron-made female with fear and acquiescence. 

Carys had no plans to rule with fear. 

“And you, Ardin?” Thesan asked, closing their little circle of asking each other about their day.

“Oh, the usual. Dealt with some unrest, made somebody regret ever having been born…was an idiot.”

“Tell me something new,” Thesan gave back drily. “What did you do?” He wondered. One hand gently came up to card through her hair, gently making her lay back in the water so that he could wet her hair. 

“Ardin, you don’t…” she protested, but Ardin cut her off. 

“I teased Carys and I owe her an apology.”

“You don’t,” she protested feebly, as Thesan started to work soap throughout her hair, lathering it up, long skilled fingers, against her scalp. She nearly moaned from that alone. 

 “But I do,” Ardin disagreed. “I know that you like your modesty and your privacy and I knowingly violated both. I should not have done that.” 

“What did you say?” Thesan asked calmly, ever the mediator. Staying neutral in any conflict until he knew both sides. 

“Though, of course, you could call me your cauldron-given gift whenever I please you enough to scream my name,” Ardin repeated. “In earshot of one of the servants. I was out of line.” 

“I think that’s a bit harsh,” Carys protested. “The only one who overheard you was one sole servant. And you apologised for it! It’s not your fault that I am…unable to…properly acclimate.” The words were difficult to get out. 

Thesan’s hands stilled. 

“Is that what you think you are doing?” He asked her evenly. 

“I do my best, but…this isn’t the world into which I was born. Where I grew up,” she said softly, biting her lip. “Don’t get me wrong I love the Dawn Court but it’s not…”

It wasn’t home.

Not really. 

Home was the Human Lands and she had been ripped away from that. 

“You never talk about…being human,” Adirn said, as he crossed the pool. 

His wings stretched and then rippled as they were prone to be doing when they got wet. Chances were he would need to shake them out multiple until the feathers would be mostly dry again. 

(At least his annual moulting season was a few months off…the last one had been something. Adirn had been uncomfortable for days while Thesan and her had painstakingly plucked out every last loose feather from his wings.)

“I don’t…Nobody would…nobody would understand,“ Carys whispered. 

Not Thesan, born as the High Lord's heir…not Adirn, born into a tight-knit family, right in the midst of the Dawn Court…Adirn who had learned to fly as he learned to walk…Thesan who was so magical that it glowed on his skin… 

Neither of them were human in the slightest, from the feathers of Adirn’s wings to the pointed tips of Thesan’s ears. 

“We may not understand, but we would listen,” Thesan said quietly, just as Adirn reached out to touch her hands and she intertwined their fingers. 

Thesan’s hands smoothed over her hair and then down her shoulders, as she closed her eyes. 

They would. She didn’t doubt that for one moment. 

“I miss my ears,” she finally blurted out. 

Her ears. Her lovely, rounded ears. Her lovely, human ears. 

Her ears. 

“You miss your ears?” Thesan asked, quietly. She was surprised that it wasn’t Adirn, surprised that…

“I liked my human ears. They were small…they were…well formed. Nobody ever found something to criticise on them, like with the rest of my body,” Carys whispered. “I liked my ears,” she repeated with a sob the tears coming from nowhere. “And now they are…”

“They are beautiful,” Adirn said quietly, one hand coming up to trace the shell of her ear, the arch, the tip…

“They don’t feel like mine,” Carys whispered. “I look at my body and it doesn’t feel like my own sometimes.”

It was…it had grown lush with curves and had become so perfect…too perfect. 

She could no longer count her ribs as she had been able to after the worst of winters…could no longer see the hollows of her cheeks…

“It is yours, all of it is yours,” Adirn said, his hands sliding down carefully…over her chin and her neck and her shoulder. “Yours to do with as you please.”

She knew that. She did know that…but sometimes…a lot of the time…

It didn’t feel like hers.

“I am sorry,” Adirn apologised softly and she shook her head.

“You couldn’t have known that,” Carys assured him softly. A soft sigh left her mouth. 

It was just…

She wiped away a stubborn tear that escaped her and then Adirn pressed a kiss against her cheek and she breathed in the scent of lavender and warmth that clung to him. She tipped forward, leaning her head against his golden brown skin. 

“Want me to make it up to you?” He offered, his voice gravelly and she snorted because she knew exactly what he offered. Though to be honest…the idea of forgetting anything but her husbands…of letting them wring every drop of pleasure from her body…that wasn’t abhorrent. The exact opposite to be honest. 

“If you do all your apologising with your cock, we’ll have a problem, Adirn,” Thesan said drily and she couldn’t help but snort with laughter. 

“Only for you two,” Adirn hit back quickly. “What do you think, love? Whatever you want.”

She knew he was serious about it. There was seemingly nothing that he wasn’t willing to try at least once, nothing that he wasn’t happy to do if it meant that he got to touch her. 

She thought about it for a moment…anything she wanted. 

But the one thing she wanted most of all was to feel like she belonged with them, to them. That they took so much from her that she couldn’t even think about her lost humanity anymore. 

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxed her, and she swallowed. 

“I am spoiled for choice,” Carys responded and Thesan chuckled. 

“Want me to narrow it down?” he whispered, warm hands slipping over her hips and she considered it for a moment. 

“No,” she said with a sigh, closing her eyes. “I want your mouth,” she whispered softly, not daring to look at him. “Will you…” she could feel the blush work its way over her cheeks even now. 

“Are you offering me a feast for my taking, love?” Adirn asked her lowly, not teasing her at all. 

She shivered, the outright question enough to send the arousal that had been lowly thrumming through her into overdrive. 

“Yes,” she managed to nod. “I…And I want Thesan inside me while you do it.”

She wasn’t even sure where that had suddenly come from. But as she blurted it out, Thesan lowly groaned behind her, his hands on her hips tightening.

 “I am quite sure that would be a treat for us as well,” Thesan whispered into her ear…but it was the trembling.

One thick finger parted her folds suddenly and she whimpered at the sudden contact, at that knowing touch…“Already wet and ready for us, love?” Adirn asked her, drawing one finger up and finding her clit nearly thoughtlessly…she could swear she could nearly feel another gush of wetness leaving her…

“Always,” she managed to get out, her knees trembling and Thesan caught her easily, chuckling. 

Carys let him pull her into his arms…keeping her eyes closed and just…basking for a moment in their undivided attention on her…in their gentle touches and sweet kisses being pressed to every inch of her damp skin…

She felt Thesan’s magic drift over her skin and she couldn’t help the shiver that it brought out…“I’ll never get used to your magic,” she whispered…he just chuckled. 

“It can be quite useful,” he whispered… and as she weakly blinked open her eyes, she could see how just one push of his magic had reconfigured that massive pool so that there was a comfortable ledge for Thesan to sit on…wide enough that he could lean back against an incline…water still just so lapping at him. 

He gave her a smile as he handed her over to Adirn, making himself comfortable, his thick, long cock jutting out from his frame…He was ready for her, not a question about it. 

Adirn helped her sit on his lap, her back to his front and it only took a second before she could feel the thick, blunt head of Thesan’s cock at her entrance, her body shuddering and yielding near immediately. 

“Just relax,” Adirn coaxed her, holding her in place, just the tip teasing her entrance, even as she already wriggled…. “You know how this goes.”

She took a deep breath, her body going pliant and Adirn let her slide down, her body having no choice but to make room for Thesan’s length. 

She fluttered around his cock, against the heat of him so deep inside her…

Carys couldn’t help herself as she ground down as much as she could, feet grabbling for purchase against slick stone as Thesan’s arms slipped around her frame and immobilised her… completely. 

“Shush,” Adirn said with some amusement. “Be patient.” 

she blinked open her eyes, just as Thesan forced his legs between hers… stretching her not only from within but stretching her legs as wide as they went…

Like a butterfly pinned for viewing pleasure. 

And gods, clearly Adirn enjoyed that view, as dark eyes slid heatedly over her body, over her heaving breasts to her lewdly stretched cunt…her clit peeking out, swollen and wet…impaled deeply onto a cock and still wanting more. More. More. 

“I want to come.”

“Greedy, love,” Adirn clucked his tongue but made himself comfortable…kneeling in the shallow water and giving her a smirk as he was near enough to her wet, stretched pussy that she could hear his hot breath against her overheated flesh. “You already have a cock inside you and it’s still not enough?”

She knew that she was blushing furiously. 

“Get to your apologies.” Carys hadn’t yet mastered that haughty tone of voice. It turned breathy at the end. 

Adirn chuckled again, and then without a forewarning…he buried his face against her pussy, her whole body shaking, a whimper leaving her throat. 

“He does much better if you give him orders,” Thesan said nearly thoughtfully, biting back a groan as her body unwillingly convulsed around his length buried inside her…trembling. “Maybe you should give all of them.“

Adirn lifted up, opening his mouth in protest, but Thesan cut him off. 

“Get back to your apologies, Ardin. Our wife deserves them,” he pointed out reasonably and then cursed as Carys felt Adirn probe where they were joined, throwing her head back into a whine. 

By the cauldron, he was going to fucking kill her with pleasure. 

Thesan cursed and she managed a breathless laugh and Adirn redoubled his efforts. 

By now…By now he knew exactly what to do. It took him an embarrassingly short amount of time to throw her headfirst into her first trembling orgasm, her body clamping down around Thesan’s cock, him groaning, his arms tightening around her body as he buried his face into her neck. 

But Adirn wasn’t done. 

Not at all. 

He was set on absolutely taking her apart. 

And quite frankly…she loved every minute of it. Loved every minute of her heart thumpin in her chest, the pleasure lapping at every nerve ending…loved the feeling of his mouth pressed against her, her tongue licking inside her…loved the bitten-down groans from Thesan behind her, the way his cock twitched deep within her, the walls of her cunt clenchning and unclening without her doing anything, long since having forgotten the use of any of her muscles…

And she couldn’t think about anything but the pleasure her husbands wrought from her. 

 “I love being your wife,” she gasped out, somehow between moans and whimpers, her back arching against Thesan, who nearly seemed to shake against her, the hot length of his inside her stretching her, filling her…Gods, she loved it. 

.“You do excel at it,” Thesan told her, his voice wrecked…A hoarse shout broke out of her throat as Adirn did cauldron knew what to her body, her toes curling with mind-numbing pleasure…White hot and blinding. 

She actually blacked out. Adirn honest to gods managed to make her faint. 

When Carys weakly blinked open her eyes moments later, Thesan was softening inside her, the warmth of his release painting her insides…Adirn was cupping her face, Thesan peppering kisses to her cheeks. 

“Am I forgiven?” Adirn asked her, his voice light on purpose. 

“What did you do again?” she managed to bring out, her voice hoarse. 

Thesan laughed gently behind her, shifting to pull out of her and she moaned, feeling the soreness between her legs, as he moved her off him gently. 

She would never get used to the sheer size of them. 

Just a moment late, a warm hand gently cupped her and Carys whimpered at the trickle of magic, a warm kiss…taking apart any discomfort. 

“Can’t have you be sore tomorrow, can we?” he asked her, a bashful smile on his face and she sighed…in complete and utter happiness. 

“You are so good to me,” she said softly, reaching out to cup the bag of Adirn’s head, pulling him into a kiss. 

He tasted like her and like Thesan and she loved everything about it. 

[grandeoatmilklatte]

Sleeping On The Job 🐍 ( Tom Riddle x Female Reader)

Warnings: nsfw || p in v || f!ng3ring || light ch0k!ng || sp!t play || semi-public || post hogwarts so characters are of age || mdni || 1.4k words.

A/N: Some more Tom smut because I think I have a serious obsession with this man and it's becoming a problem. Dedicating this to my fellow Tom lover @marketfreshfics 😘

Also, apologies for the gap in my writing lately! I moved at the end of April, which consumed all of my free time but I'm back and I'm hoping this was worth the wait!

Tom’s emerald eyes rose from his book, the first time they had done so in a while, as he checked the time. It was only a quarter after two and the shop was quiet, the heavy rain outside contributing to the lull in traffic. Tom knew he still had plenty of time before his 4 o’clock client would arrive, so he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. As he sat there, savoring the peace and quiet of the shop, the words of his former peers and professors flooded his mind. 

“Tom has so much potential, how could he just waste it working at a shop?”. But it wasn’t just “a shop”. Working at Borgin and Burkes allowed Tom to learn more about dark magic than he ever could at Hogwarts. The shop provided him with everything he needed to help him achieve his ultimate goal. But for right now, with the rain pitter-pattering against the windows, the shop provided him a peaceful space to relax. 

His relaxation, however, was short lived, interrupted by the sound of the shop door opening. When Tom looked for the source of the interruption, he was pleasantly surprised at what met his gaze, or rather, who.

The most beautiful angel he had ever laid eyes on walked through the door. The two of them made eye contact as she slowly made her way towards the counter. Tom’s eyes wandered her body, his mind conjuring naughty images of how lovely she’d look laid out on the counter, naked, with her legs spread, her cunt dripping wet and eager for him. 

Tom snapped out of his daydream when she was right in front of him, their eyes locked on one another, as she gave him a flirty smile. He shot the woman a flirty smile of his own before speaking. 

“Hello gorgeous, was there something I could help you find?”

She let out a giggle as she leaned forward on the counter, giving Tom a clear view of the cleavage her blouse provided, a view Tom unabashedly indulged in. 

“Actually yes, I was trying to find the most attractive man in all of Knocturn Alley, but it seems like I’ve already found him!”

Tom rolled his eyes, but let out a soft chuckle in response. “It’s early, shouldn’t you be at work, sweetheart?”

“Shop’s been quiet today with the weather so I thought I’d leave for a quick lunch break. Figured I’d pop in to see you for a bit if you weren’t busy.”

“It’s been quiet here too so you’re welcome to stay. Just need you gone by 4. Have a client coming in.”

“Oh, that’s more than enough time.” Her tone was laced in desire as she leaned further over the counter. Tom followed suit, leaning over the counter as well until their lips met. After a moment he pulled away, coming around the counter to face her.

“More than enough time.” Tom repeated as he roughly brought his lips back to hers. He picked her up as he kissed her, sitting her on the counter and situating himself between her legs. His hands began to make quick work of her clothes, unbuttoning her blouse so that her breasts were in full view before his hands shot up her skirt, pulling her stockings and underwear down her legs. 

The action caused her to pull away. “Tom!? Here?! Seriously? You’re at work! What if your boss catches us?!”

Tom chuckled. There was no chance of them being caught. He had full reign of this place when he worked, his boss trusting him and never showing up unannounced. 

“He won’t. Trust me.” His voice was stern and commanding, and she nodded, her core aching far too much to deny him, or herself, of this. 

He re-positioned himself between her legs, dipping two fingers into her waiting heat. Loud moans fell from her lips as he thrust his fingers in and out of her, each thrust concluding with the feeling of metal teasing her entrance - Tom grandfather’s ring that he wore at all times. The cold feeling of the metal juxtaposed with the warmth from his fingers heightened the experience, coaxing her closer to an orgasm. The moment Tom felt her walls begin to tighten around his fingers, he promptly pulled them out, bringing them up and shoving them into her mouth instead. The taste of her juices mixed with the metallic taste of the ring meeting her tongue. Once she had sucked his fingers clean, he commanded her again.

“Lay back. Now.”

She did as she was told, sliding out of her hiked up skirt and unbuttoned shirt before shifting some papers on the counter to the side. She watched as Tom removed his belt and pants as she laid back, completely naked, spreading her legs wide for him. Tom took a quick second to savor the view - she appeared exactly how he had imagined her earlier when she first got here. 

He slid into her wet cunt with ease, his pace merciless as he pounded into her. The counter shook with his aggressive thrusts. Although Tom had assured her his boss wouldn’t catch them, she began to panic again in her mind. Were the windows even covered? She knew for a fact the door hadn’t locked behind her. Anyone could have walked in or walked by and seen them. This wasn’t their first venture into semi-public sex, but usually they were somewhere a bit more secluded than a normally busy shop on a normally busy street. But Tom didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. His mind fixated on one thing only. And as the tip of his cock continued to slam into her cervix, her orgasm fast approaching, the worries faded away. Spectators be damned. 

Tom, on the other hand, had a secret desire to be caught. Even back when they were in their final year at Hogwarts, he always hoped someone would happen upon them in the prefect bathroom, or in the empty classrooms they would frequent. He always loved the idea of someone walking in on the most beautiful girl in all of Hogwarts screaming his name. He wanted the world to know that she belonged to him. 

She felt Tom’s movements becoming sloppy, a tell tale sign that he was reaching his climax. Tom brought his hand to her stomach, trailing it up her body before roughly wrapping around her neck. The feeling of her airwaves being restricted as he continued to fuck her sent her over the edge, her cunt desperately clenching around him as she came. His grip tightened even further as she felt herself being lifted slightly by her neck, Tom meeting her gaze as he did so.

“Open your mouth!” he growled. She obeyed immediately. Tom spat directly into her mouth before releasing her neck, pushing her back onto the counter as she swallowed. Tom’s breathing began to pick up as his movements became even sloppier, letting out a final groan as he climaxed. Her body welcomed his release, her walls clenching around him again as he filled her. Once Tom had caught his breath, he pulled himself out of her and silently got himself dressed as she followed suit, hopping off the counter. 

“Well, that was quite the lunch break wasn’t it, sweetheart? You should visit me during your lunch breaks more often.” Tom’s voice dripped with satisfaction, a large grin plastered across his face. 

She struggled to meet his gaze, suddenly feeling a bit shy after having been taken so crudely at his job where anyone could have spotted them. Though she couldn’t deny the rush she had felt. The prospect of visiting him at work more often making her body ache for more. And truthfully, she was happy to take advantage of any opportunity to be used by him, no matter where or when it was. She knew this about herself, and he knew it as well.

She watched as Tom fixed his desk back up, the pair engaging in brief and vague conversation about what he was reading and what he was working on currently. The conversation was cut short when the front door chimed again. An older wizard walked in - Tom’s 4 o’clock client. Tom shot his lover a stern look that conveyed a silent request. 

“I should go. Will I be seeing you later?” 

Tom’s face softened, another flirty smile forming on his face. “You most certainly will, sweetheart. I’ll meet you at your work.” 

Her heart did a backflip as she made her way out of the shop, already anticipating their later meeting. As she disappeared into the rain outside, she gave Tom one last glance, his emerald eyes lighting up as his client placed what looked like a small chalice and a locket on the counter. 

[zu8her]

✧･ﾟIndulged Sharing — anybody up for a good gangbang

✧･ﾟtags — gangbang, threesome, cum eating, bisexual volleyball players, cum swapping, they are wearing suits, penetrative sex, consent, shawty taking on the whole squad, Tsukishima, Akaashi, Bokuto, Kuroo.

✧･ﾟnotes — It's been awhile. I would like to thank loadshedding for making me write again. enjoy reading this. i really think this is not good but i want to put it out.

✧･ﾟ— word count: 1.8K

Staring aimlessly around the boys' apartment, she hesitated to glance into the kitchen. The place was clean, she notes. At her feet she fixates on the outline of the table that was previously on the soft carpet before it was moved in the corner of the living room.

The wait was agonising. Had she just kept this filthy desire locked in the depths of mind she would not be here. Instead she’s here folding one leg over the other slightly adjusting her dress to prevent her leg from bouncing uncontrollably, slightly adjusting her dress. Looking up, Bokuto flashes a smile. Not his usual energetic one but one to calm her. The exchange was fleeting. She returns the smile before turning to gaze into the kitchen.

The rest of his flatmates have gathered there to conversate about her imaginative mind. She wishes to be hear what they are taking about but only hears mumbles. Her anxiety spikes when they catch her and give her a smile similar to Bokuto or a gaze she has never gotten from them before. She lowers her head, twirling a loose thread around her finger.

She lifts her head for a moment as Kuroo walks over and settles next to her. "Hey." She sits awkwardly while he sinks into the couch cushions. He eyes her taking in her frame. “You sure you want to do this?" He questions earnestly.

She turns to meet his gaze. "If you don't want to-"

"Oh, we want to." He reassures, smirking as he rests his head against the couch.

Reflexively. she glances back into the kitchen, eyeing Tsukishima. “Your boyfriend also wants to.”

Feeling a light poke from Kuroo,  she turns to see him point up at Tsukishima. The blonde stands with his gaze stern but his voice gentle. "Can we talk for a sec?" He extends a hand to help her off the couch. In the dimly lit hallway he squeezes her hand looking down at her through his glasses. “I talked to them.”

“Thank you,”

“I want you to enjoy yourself.” He tucks  a loose braid behind her ear before raising her hand and planting a kiss.

She had always thought about. The thought of indulging with more than one person at a time, drew her in. All their attention on her. Watching her. What pleasure could she derive from that.

At first she hesitated telling him. Always shaking her head when he’d turn his head at the sound of her faint gasp, caused by her attempt to expose her desire. One evening Tsukishima corned her. A quiet evening of indulging each other’s sexual fantasies lead her to finally tell him. Straddle his lap while finally letting her thought become words.

“I just wonder what it would be like.” She excitedly uttered. His face was blank, thinking. He listened rubbing her side. The excitement was seemly not shared. As a result, the next morning she passed it off as a joke. It was not brought up again. Well, until a few weeks later anyway.

“You did what?”

“They said they would be… willing to.”

That's how she ended up here. In their surprisingly clean apartment intoxicated by the mixture of their colognes.

“The safe word is blueberry. If you can't say anything just tap somewhere three times.” She nods. Leaning down he caresses her cheek before kissing her.

Feeling his hands slip from her waist she eyes him as he props himself on a couch while she returns to her previous seat, Kuroo and Akaashi at either side of her.

Akaashi cautiously moves to cup her chin. "May I?" His eyes dart from her eyes to her lips. She nods closing her eyes as she melts into the kiss. They alternate between deep kisses and pecks. Taking mere moments to breathe and stare at each other before indulging once more. The kisses, desperate as his hand roam her body and she grips his tie to pull him closer. She spreads her legs to get him between them.

He moves down to gently kiss along her neck and shoulders. Her gaze fixed on her boyfriend as he sits back sipping a glass of red wine watching.

The man on the left quickly forces her attention to him. "Look at me." He orders before he leans in to kiss her.

Feeling hands wrap around her hips, she breaks the kiss to see Akaashi on his knees. He pulls her to the edge of the couch while Kuroo latches onto her once more. She shivers with every kiss Akaashi places along her inner thighs, spreading her legs open. She whimpers against Kuroo as Akaashi pulls down her underwear, discarding it elsewhere. She gasps gripping his hair, once he latched onto her clit. 

“Can I touch you here?” Kuroo requests. She moves his hands toward her tits. Her moans muffled as he kisses her. He purposefully grazes her nipples, smirking as they kissed as she arches her back. Her orgasm came quick.

She drew heavy breathes to gather herself. Akaashi emerged from underneath her dress, sliding away towards Tsukishima.

From the other side Bokuto approached with his signature smile, lustful as he loosened his tie. His bulge evident through his trousers. He replaces Akaashi , placing his knee on the couch and laying y/n on her back, her head on Kuroo's lap. She squirms under him her eyes alternating from him unzipping his trousers and Akaashi feeding Tsukishima her cum as leaned down to kiss him.

Bokuto had girth. She gasps, when he lined his thick cock against her before slowly pushing inside.

She was drowned in pleasure as he dived into her cunt. She stared down at  his cock ripped through her. Indulging in the pleasure she leaned back staring up at Kuroo. Met with a sly smirk, she gave back a drunken smile before snapping her head forward when Bokuto placed his thumb against her clit. Reflexively she reached out but was stopped by Kuroo who pinned her hands above her head. Her eyes fall on her boyfriend who is stroking Akaashi's cock, taking her over the edge, she cums on Bokuto’s cock.

She flinches when he pulled out. Palming his cock glistening with her cum before resting his tip on her clit.

***

On her knees, she settled between his legs, nuzzling into the soft carpet. Innocently, she looks up at Tsukishima tugging at his belt. With his cock out, she started slowly stroking. (Alliteration was unintended). She felt it throb as she stroked it.

The carpet under her slowly became damp as she listened to him whimper and groan with every on of her licks and strokes. She bobbed her head letting his cock hit the back of her throat as his flatmates watched palming their cocks at the sight. Tsukishima grunted gazing down at her through his glasses as she took  his cock, carefully pushes her braids behind her ear before gently gripping the base of her head. He bucks his hips into her mouth. “There you go baby.” He coos as she briefly shut her eyes. Stings of his cum spurt into her mouth.

***

All she could do is stare at Tsukishima while he palmed his cock and let her moans echo through the apartment alongside her gentlemen's grunts and whimpers. She was face down against the soft couch and ass up as Akaashi fucked her from the back. Her moans were erratic. She could not keep herself silent while Akaashi repeatedly fucked into her. His flatmates stroking their cocks to her getting fucked threw her over the edge.

She came desperately trying to close her legs but Akaashi continued to ram his cock into her. "Shit- where do I- ?" he groans. "Inside."

She moaned as he came. Her eyes hooded and drool sinking into the couch as he slowly thrusted his cum deeper.

She groaned when he pulled. Catching her breathe as they watched his cum slide down her legs.

***

Laid out on the soft carpet, Bokuto fucked his thick cock into her mouth. Reaching forward to rub her clit while Kuroo abused her cunt causing her to hum at the sensation. She came twice on Kuroo's cock. Her head on a pillow, as Bokuto thrusted into her mouth, his knees at either side of her head. "Do you like that y/n?" She hums before sucking his cock again.

A flash-light on her, Akaashi sat with her phone in hand recording as Bokuto's cum slid down her cheek near her eye. Bokuto moaned slowing humping the last spurts of cum into her mouth. "Did that taste good?" Tsukishima questions as he bends down. She nods, pulling him into a kiss.

Bokuto smiles while cleaning the cum off her face as Kuroo pulled yet another orgasm out of her. He continued to fuck her as she squirted on his pelvis. Pulling out, he covered her pussy with his cum. Bucking his hips he slides his cock between her pussy, coating his cock with cum.

Tsukishima leaned down to suck his cock. Kuroo gently tugged at his blonde strands, throwing his head back.

***

Hands against the wall, Tsukishima was ramming his cock into her, Kuroo was recording and Akaashi and Bokuto were making out next to them on the couch.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." She brainlessly chanted.

"Look at her," Kuroo instructed. "Cock drunk."

Tsukishima moaned burying his head into her neck his arm around her chest and the other rubbing her sensitive clit.

"Do you want him to cum for you, y/n?" Kuroo asked. She desperately nodded to the camera.

"I need you to cum with me baby. Can you do that for me baby?"

Her moans muffled by his fingers in her mouth, she came on his cock as he rubbed her clit. "Fuck," he chanted as he pumped her full of his cum before watching as it dripped down onto the tile floor.

***

This time it was Tsukishima with her phone stroking his cock at her getting fucked by his flatmates. y/n was sitting on Kuroo's cock as he fucked up into her. Akaashi guiding her mouth over his cock. Cum messily decorated her cunt and Kuroo's pulsating cock sliding in and out of her. The white liquid even dripping down onto the carpet.

Tsukishima watched as she swallowed Akaashi's cock. Her big tits bouncing with every thrust. Attentively, watching Akaashi pulling his cum covered cock out. Holding it as the base sliding it back into her mouth and repeating the movement until she was satisfied. His hair fallen across his face staring down at y/n with a smile caressing her face.

His eyes moved down. Kuroo had his hand around her waist fucking her deceptively slow before rolling her over onto the carpet, lifting her leg and fucking his cum into her from the side with her braids all over his face. When he pulled out, Tsukishima moved in on her face.

She gave him a fucked out smile. “Was that good, Baby?”

“mmhm” She grinned at the camera.

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credit for banners: @inklore @roseschoices