#should the fucking stars align

[fakemagicjaye]

I HAVE FIVE PAGES. LEFT. TO DRAW.

[skunkes]

was abt to make a silly post about how at this point i barter with the universe for a bf like "please id take care of him and walk him and dress him up", like a child begging for a pet, and then i think abt how as much as i want an actual pet I don't think im fit to ever have one of those either

[myattman]

The bartender getting me a second drink in 3 minutes prolly like. Oh this twink is going to become a problem

[mogai-sunflowers]

there’s a conversion “therapy” center right in my city run by a Church and last night I found out about it through my mom reading their website (she used to go to that Church but left because of their bullshit, but is still on the mailing list so they sent out the website) and i feel like absolute shit. but i also know their address. much to ponder...

[snekdood]

still looking through old art and im writhing with disgust at the fact that i tried to make taos nose smaller to make him look more like my abuser for them 🤢🤢🤢

[aperrywilliams]

That Wasn't Fake (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Request: Can you write a Spencer fic where the reader is kind of quiet and shy when she begins working at the BAU, and Spencer has a crush on her, and then they have a case, and she has to like to seduce the unsub lowkey and everyone kind of like...how is she going to do this shes not very outgoing but when she does shes really good at it, and everyone is surprised and impressed.

Summary:  You're shy and reserved. Spencer has a crush on you, and unbeknown to him, you have a crush on him. Maybe the cat can get out of the bag when you have to step aside of your comfort zone to catch an elusive unsub.

Word Count: 4.2k (no self control here)

Warnings: Words like 'fuck' and 'bitch'. A rant about self-doubt. Typical CM stuff: unsubs, killings, etc.

A/N: Another request I loved! It should have been a little shorter, but I'm having a hard time getting to the point these days. Please keep sending requests!

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Spencer knows it is inappropriate, but he can't help it. You're coworkers, and that itself sets a boundary, so he shouldn't be thinking of trespassing.

But the crush he has on you seems to grow every day.

He doesn't know if it is your beautiful smile, the kindness you show in everything you do, or the enthusiasm you put into every task you are committed to. Since the moment he saw you pass the bullpen glass doors, Spencer knew he was damned.

From that moment, Spencer knew he wanted to know you and learn everything about you. About what you liked, what you hated, and what your fears and dreams were. Everything.

But not much after that revelation in his mind, he understood it wasn't going to be easy to get to you.

You were extremely shy and reserved.

In fact, your first interaction - when Emily introduced you both - consisted of a wave of your hand and a timid 'nice to meet you.'

He thought as time went by, you would loosen and become less bashful and quiet. And in part, he was right. As the months passed, you began to feel more comfortable within the team. You laughed at Luke's jokes, you commented on Rossi's stories, and you could even - when the stars aligned - crack a joke yourself to Tara or Matt.

But beyond that, no one knew much about your life outside of the BAU, unlike JJ, who always talks about her kids and her husband, or Matt, who talks about his kids, too. Or Tara, who recounts her failed dates. Or the same Luke who always shows photos of Roxy.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be an enigma. But Spencer Reid loved decoding enigmas.

At first, he turned his interest in you out of mere scientific curiosity. However, internally, he knew it wasn't just that.

It started with small random questions about the times you worked together: Is this coffee okay? What was the last book you read? Do you think we should buy some donuts for the team?

If you were honest, it picked your interest why, from all people, Dr. Spencer Reid was so adamant in making conversation with you.

From what you knew and from what the team said, Spencer was not a person very interested in things other than work or books. But suddenly, out of nowhere, he asked you what the last movie you saw was or something like that.

You always answered his questions; however, you would have liked to be much more talkative and engage in longer conversations, but your nature stopped you.

'What if I don't have anything more interesting for him to say?'

'Does he just talk to me because he feels sorry for me?'

And that was the big issue: you have never had problems with the way you live your life. You're pretty satisfied with what you do in your job and out of it, too. But you have always thought you are too 'simple' to entertain people's interest.

And to be honest, being surrounded by people with so much experience and big things happening in their lives still intimidates you a bit. So, you usually refrain from talking too much about yourself or anything for that matter.

But with Spencer, things are a bit different. He's always checking on you but respects your boundaries. He has learned that sometimes you just don't want to talk, and he doesn't push.

Despite his interest beyond the professional, Spencer would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. Being able to share time with you will have to be enough for him.

In a way, he has become your protector. He is your backup during interrogations or in situations where you can feel awkward, like the times when some police officers tried to flirt with you and got too close. Sure, you know how to turn them down, but sometimes guys don't get the memo and keep pushing. You're too shy to yell or be aggressive about it.

The team also understands the way you are, and they know it does not make you any less professional. However, they have always been careful not to take you too much out of your comfort zone.

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

A whole two weeks and five murders later, the team is stuck trying to catch an unsub who has preferences for killing women after club nights. The profile says he is not interested in just any woman but in those between 25-30 years old who like to flirt with several men in the clubs. But it is not just any type of flirting; it is the type that is initiated and dominated by them. In short, he likes to kill women who are the opposite of submissive. He sees them as predators on a hunting ground.

Another finding in victimology is that the women he kills, in addition to having a specific age range, have very similar physical characteristics. And similar to you.

All his victims have your build, eye color, hair color, and height. It gets to be creepy to a certain point. And it's something difficult to ignore.

Bouncing information and possible strategies, the team agrees they need to be proactive to get him to show up before another killing happens.

"Okay, what options do we have?" Emily asks.

"The witnesses haven't gotten us anywhere," Luke complains.

"Although we've narrowed down his hunting grounds," Rossi shrugs.

"Yeah, we know the clubs where he likes to hunt," JJ backs Rossi.

"But although the profile, we have yet to learn about what to look for there. I mean, we know what the unsub wants, but not how he looks like." This time, it's Tara who speaks.

You've rarely seen Emily bite her tongue when she wants to say something, but it's clear that she has something on her mind, and she doesn't know how to put it, or maybe the problem is something else. You look at her out of the corner of your eye, and she looks back at you; what do those eyes say? They look like they're even apologetic.

It's a fraction of the time before she comes back to behave like herself.

"We need to lurk him. It's the only way," she says. And everyone's eyes - yours included - are on her immediately.

"Lurk him?" Matt repeats.

"Yes. And all we know who should be the one going undercover to do that," Emily adds, looking at you this time.

That's it—the elephant in the room.

Of course, you're the ideal candidate. Well, you're perfect in the physical aspect because if we talk about the victim's personality and yours...

There's silence in the room, and you can feel like the team's eyes are all on you.

Do they expect you to say no? To refuse? From your perspective, it's not a question; it's more like the option you all have to catch the guy.

"It's true (Y/N) would be the closest to the unsub type, but there are a lot of things to take into account," Matt says. And you know perfectly well what's behind his words, even if he doesn't say it directly.

And that's okay; it's perfectly plausible they have their doubts. It is not enough to look like the victims for the operation to work.

But if there is one thing you are sure of, it's that you will always give your all to your job, even if that means becoming a completely different person.

"I can do it," you mumbled so quietly that if the AC weren't in the lower setting, people wouldn't have heard you.

"But (Y/N), you know about this guy. It's dangerous," Matt points, a frown on his face.

"Not to mention he likes rough interactions," Luke adds.

"You don't have to do it if you feel uncomfortable." This time, it is JJ who voices her opinion. And you know, that's the closest reason to the team's main concern.

And the fact you can blow up the entire plan.

Spencer stays in silence. Internally he's freaking out thinking of you having to lurk on the unsub, but he knows you are a professional. And he feels a kind of deja vu.

When he was younger, the team would have said the same about him doing something like that. Spencer knows what it's like when people baby you, making you feel insecure. Sure, he hasn't had to worry about that anymore. Spencer is almost forty, and no one would dare to tell him he can't do something. Not after all the things he has been through.

"JJ is right, Bella. You don't have to do it. We can think of another way," Rossi backs JJ.

That's when Spencer notices the slight frown on your face. It's invisible to everyone but him. He knows it's there.

You stay collected, even when everyone on the team has something to say about how bad the idea of you going undercover to lurk the unsub is.

Emily is who stops everyone's rant.

"Guys, hey. If (Y/N) is telling us she can do it, we're going to do it. Of course, we'll be there to back up her and catch this unsub."

And this is how the discussion is settled.

Emily sends everyone out with a task to prepare for the night. Today is Friday, and the unsub will surely be stalking some new victim. The chances are high.

When it's just you and Spencer in the room, he still looks at you in silence.

"Do you also think I'll not be able to pull off this mission and I'm going to ruin everything?"

You downcast your gaze, exhaling deeply.

"No. I don't think that," Spencer clarifies, and you raise your gaze to meet his eyes. "You are more than capable, (Y/N). The team is worried because you'll be out of your comfort zone in a dangerous situation."

"The team? Not you?" You narrow your eyes to him.

You try not to sound accusatory, but if you're as scared as everyone, you also are fed up with the other's doubts.

Spencer closes the distance between you both but doesn't invade your personal space.

"Of course, I'm worried too! I don't want anything bad to happen to you. But I trust you and your judgment."

Your heart does flip-flops, and you're not sure if it's because Spencer is worried or because, despite that, he trusts you—or both.

"You do?" You ask, not so convinced.

Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And we'll be there when you catch the guy."

If that is the reassurance you need, you don't mention it. Instead, you grin at Spencer as a promise you'll do your job just how you are supposed to.

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

You insist on getting ready in your hotel room. The only assistant you ask for is Emily. She was the one who trusted you first in this, so you'll take every piece of advice she can give you before this night starts.

Everyone has a role in the plan.

Rossi will be the chauffeur who will drive you to the club.

Luke and Spencer would be in the club, mingling with the patrons. JJ, Matt, and Emily would be in the van monitoring the whole situation with cameras and earpieces. Rossi would keep his facade as a driver so he could be at one of the entrances. Tara would be at the club, too, eyeing nothing suspicious going on in the bar because there is a chance the unsub is getting help from the bartender.

When you are in front of the mirror applying the last touch of makeup, Emily is looking at you with a stare you can't decipher.

"What?" you ask, and Emily chuckles.

"Please, don't take this in a bad way, but I never thought I would live the day of seeing you using clothing like this. And Jesus, you look so hot!"

Your cheeks redens.

"It's a little bit odd coming from my boss, don't you think?" you muse, smoothing the fabric of your dress.

"Point taken," Emily raises her hands in defense. "Although I know someone who is going to run out of breath after seeing you."

You let out a scoff. It's not a surprise for you. The BAU girls - boss included - have been trying to set you up with Spencer since forever. You don't entertain the idea only because you don't think it's possible and not because you don't like the concept.

"Come on, don't say that. You are not helping to my nerves."

"Sorry, I'll shut up. We should go, though," Emily says, checking her watch.

One of the SUVs drives you to the van parking point. You needed to review the operation details.

At the back of the van - or commander point - JJ, Luke, Tara, Rossi, Matt, and Spencer see you come up with Emily.

For the best US profilers, they're not doing a good job hiding that they are gawking at you. Surely, no one imagined seeing you in such a revealing outfit. Outfit that, without a doubt, suits you extremely well, highlighting all your body attributes.

Spencer feels like he died and was resurrected after seeing you.

"Okay, guys, we need to check the details again," Emily announces.

The plan is in motion, and everyone is in position.

As expected, you arrive with Rossi at the club, who opens the door for you and helps you descend from the car. Rossi gives you a reassuring smile before letting you go.

Like a switch, you are no longer the shy SSA (Y/L/N). Now you are the woman who is going to take what she wants and attract the unsub attention doing that.

Your walk is determined, and your eyes send out flames of confidence to those who look at you. The music is very loud, something that would usually bother you, but not now. This needs to feel like your environment. That's how you like it, you tell yourself.

Almost instantly, you start to attract the looks of men who are eager for a woman like you.

You exude determination, and you don't go unnoticed.

Walking into the club, you make brief eye contact with Luke, who is on the dance floor. You see Spencer perched in a booth, nursing a beer.

At the same time, Tara is stationed at the bar.

"Remember (Y/N); the unsub expects the woman to approach men. The flirt needs to come from you," Emily reminds you by the earpiece hidden in one of the earrings you're wearing.

"Show time," you mumble to yourself.

You walk seductively to the dance floor, where a young man is dancing with a blonde. You approach and whisper something in his ear. That makes the boy completely lose interest in the blonde and start dancing with you. You smile and cling to the man's body, who wastes no time and takes your hips as if they were his possessions.

That dance certainly has nothing innocent about it. You continue whispering things in the boy's ear, and he looks more and more excited. Once you consider it a reasonable amount of time to have attracted attention, you leave the boy alone and head to the bar. Just a few meters away from Tara, a suspicious man is staring at you. You see him out of the corner of your eye as you order a drink. When the bartender passes it to you, you make subtle eye contact with Tara, who nods, indicating that the drink is clean.

You look next to you and see another man not so subtly looking at you. You know the unsub's profile, and you can't be intimidated or dominated by another man. You are the one who calls the shots. Otherwise, this will not work.

Before the man makes his attempt to seduce you, you turn to him, and with a penetrating look and disdainful voice, you stop him.

"Sorry, honey. Don't waste your time. You're not my type," and with that, you leave to move to the opposite side of the club. The guy huffs, and you're almost sure hearing him call you 'bitch' under his breath.

JJ, who's following the cameras inside the club, sees someone who looks suspect.

"Hey, this guy has been peeking at (Y/N) the entire time, and look, he clenched his fists when (Y/N) turned down that guy at the bar."

Emily confirms JJ's observation before giving you the next instructions.

"(Y/N), you're doing great. We have a possible target. So we need to raise the bet."

You know exactly what Emily means. You both had talked about the strategy to follow, having more details about what you should do than the rest of the team.

Matt and JJ look confused at each other but say nothing.

Your next step is to find another dude to seduce before delivering the coup de grace.

Luke and Spencer keep an eye on you. And while Luke is pleasantly surprised by your audacity, Spencer can't help but feel his stomach tighten. He tells himself it's because he is afraid something bad could happen to you, but inside of him, it's that and the fact of seeing you flirt with other men.

Just like you did with the guy on the dance floor, you attract the attention of another man; this time, you take his hand and pull him to the dance floor.

JJ and Matt's jaws drop to the floor. If Tara, Luke, and Spencer could do the same without giving themselves away, they would have done it, too.

As if it were your second nature, you laugh and move to the music. The man seems to enjoy the moment so much that he takes a bold step by leaning in to kiss you. You let him get closer until his lips are almost on yours. But before touching each other, you pull back with a malicious smile.

"Naughty boy. I'm who says if you can kiss or no," you pout, faking disappointment. Dizzed, the guy cocks his head and sees you walk away.

Matt chirps now. "It's him. Look boss," he tells Prentiss, pointing to the same guy JJ saw before.

There is no longer any doubt that it is him. Now you just have to catch him red-handed.

"(Y/N), we got him. It's time for the last play," Emily tells you.

With Emily's instruction, you go to the bar for another drink before heading over to where Spencer is sitting.

He tries to play it off, but he has no idea why you're approaching him.

"Is this seat taken, handsome?" You ask, with your drink in hand.

"N- no. Please," Spencer gestures to the booth on his front, but you opt to perch to his side. Spencer thinks he never has been this close to you. He looks at your eyes, and it's like you are a totally different person. It's a little bit contradictory for him, to be honest. He already likes you just as you are, but this version of you? It's driving him insane.

Some resemblance of your true self looks with a kind of curiosity the nervousness on Spencer. You don't think much about it; you assume he's playing the nervous guy who is baffled by you.

The thing is, Spencer isn't playing. He's definitely baffled by you.

"Are you okay?" You ask him, masking your question with a seductive smile.

"Yeah. Are - are you?" Spencer stutters a bit—something that is perfect for the plan but embarrassing for him.

You get closer to him to speak in his ear.

"This was Emily's idea," you tell him before kissing his ear and gently biting his lobe.

Spencer's breath hitches in his throat, and he thinks he's going to pass out any second. You're not doing it better: your heart is also pumping hard from the adrenaline. Of course, you had imagined something like that with Spencer, but only in your erotic dreams. You wouldn't dare do this on any given day.

You keep teasing Spencer, who, despite the nervousness, tries to play along. If this is the closest he will ever have you, he wants to engrave this in his memory.

"Just a little push, (Y/N). We almost have him," Emily instructs by the earpiece.

You swallow as subtly as possible as you wrap your arm around Spencer's neck, pulling him closer to you.

It's only a second between that action and the fact that you're kissing Spencer like it's your last meal.

Spencer doesn't know how to respond, and you were counting on that; it was enough time for the unsub to notice that you were the one who chose her last prey.

When Spencer is about to reciprocate the kiss, you murmur a 'sorry' into his lips and quickly pull away, giving him a disdainful look—which you hope he understands is fake—before getting up and walking toward the back exit door.

As expected, the unsub follows you towards the back door, and while your back is turned, he believes he has the advantage to attack you. What he doesn't know is that Matt and Luke are ready to lunge at him the moment he tries to touch you.

Everything that happens after is too fast.

The unsub is detained and taken to a patrol car while the team gathers around you, congratulating you on the successful operation. They all apologize to you for their previous apprehensions. You tell them that you understand and that there is no need to apologize. And it's like the switch has been flipped again since you came out of the femme fatale role.

But something is wrong. Spencer is not in the group. You see him a little further away, near the exit door of the club. Emily notices the looks between you both, and she sends the team on different tasks to close the case, leaving you and Spencer there.

There's something in his eyes that you can't decipher. You think it's resentment for using him without warning him what you were going to do.

You shyly approach him.

"It's me again," you tell him, pulling a face. You don't know what to say to make the situation better. Spencer nods.

"Yeah. You did it great, by the way," he compliments you. But it doesn't feel good like Spencer's compliments usually do.

"Look, about the kiss back there-" you start. He needs an explanation as a bare minimum.

"I know. It was fake," Spencer cuts you off.

Those words shouldn't hurt you as they do now. But isn't that the most reasonable thing to believe? The you in the club weren't you, so all you did inside was pretend.

Everything except that kiss.

If it's true you couldn't enjoy it the way you would have liked, you will never forget his lips on yours.

A tense silence takes over the moment. This is not okay.

You can't afford to lie to one of the most important people in your life, even if telling the truth takes you out of your comfort zone.

What the hell! Tonight has already been a total of 180 from a usual day for you.

"It wasn't," you mumble, and you see his eyes flicking to yours in a second.

"What?" Spencer asks, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Everything was fake, but not the kiss," you say with a stadied voice this time.

Spencer's heart races again. If you say you didn't fake it, then what he felt on your part at that moment was real?

"It wasn't fake?" He asks for clarification. You nod.

A smirk forms on Spencer's lips, seeing your cheeks redden.

There you are. The girl he had fallen for in the past two years.

"Well, you know that I am a man of science, right?" he tells you, and you frown because you have no idea where this is going.

"I know," you say with some hesitation.

"And as a man of science, I need evidence of things, you know?"

Now, you are the one who smirks at him.

"Evidence, huh?"

"Yep," he says, emphasizing the 'p' and swaying his body on his feet. You hum.

"I believe I can provide the necessary evidence if you need them," you concede, and Spencer's eyes sparkle with excitement.

Now, he is the one who reaches out and cups your cheeks. Your breathing quickens, but that doesn't stop you from standing on your tiptoes and connecting your lips with his.

This time, there is no unsub, no curious eyes are looking at you, there is no rush, there is no femme fatale role, and above all, this is not fake; it's as real as the fact that your heart beats for him, and his for you.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 

[werecreature-addicted]

Sacrificial Lamb reader/vampire priest.

Just consider— a cute little lamb reader lying on the altar, begging not to be slaughtered, the tears their crying making the vampires heart flutter. All the cult members are confused why the ritual keeps getting pushed back- meanwhile the vampire is spoiling his little lamb rotten.

ohioohooohiohoo

His hands are gentle, stroking your cheek as you wake slowly, your eyes flutter open slowly to the morning light, and there he is, your keeper.

"Morning," you yawn sleepily,

"Good morning, little one,"

"is it a good morning? I thought my execution was scheduled for today." you huff, you should be more scared but the soft look on his face can only mean one thing. you get out of bed and change idly, not minding the priest as he watches you, he's a man of god after all, there's no way he'd be looking at you in lust.

"ah well, we thought so but some knew doctrine has come to light, now is not the time for sacrifices. we'll have to wait for next winter, at the very least," he says. You hum thoughtfully turning back to face him, his hungry red eyes fixed on your body, flicking up to meet your face as you turn around.

"Well, I'll make myself useful until winter then." When you were born, it had been prophecized that you would be sacrificed to the gods and your death would bring about a new golden age for your homeland. Then, on your eighteenth birthday, you'd been handed over to the church, to live out your final days in the temple, under the watchful gaze of the father and his dedicated cult. Your execution has been postponed four times now.

You wondered if the cultists even bothered setting up the altar this time. it was always something, the stars weren't aligned properly, the materials were all wrong, you fell ill and couldn't be slaughtered while sick, and now, Spring was a time for rebirth, you'd have to wait for winter for the ritual. which winter? who's to say? it might be another few years before he tries to start your sacrifice again.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. he puts his nose to your throat and kisses your skin. "You could be useful to me now," he breathes, his voice strained, tight with hunger. You had been so scared the first time you'd almost been killed, you remembered sobbing and pleading for your life, his knife poised above your throat, He told you that you could live, for now, if you served the cult and him. Of course, you agreed, that was the first time he bit you, spilling your blood on the altar in a different way.

You lean your neck to the side and sigh as you feel his fangs pierce your skin. you have to lean back against him for support as he drinks your blood and you grow weaker.

"so perfect, so delicious," he murmurs to himself as he drinks your blood, licking at your throat, catching any stray drops of blood. His hands slide down your body feeling up your hips and thighs. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your back as he slowly grinds against you. The priest is chaste, a man of god, but he's also a vampire, as he's explained he can't help but get erect when he feeds it's a natural side effect and completely nonsexual.

He pins you down on the bed and pushes your legs apart, grinding against you, fully clothed, as he bites your neck again. you feel dizzy, a mix of feelings as your blood is drained and as you buck and grind against the vampire on top of you. you try to keep quiet, but you can't help but moan as he takes full advantage of you. You feel dirty, the man who's saved your life so many times now is just trying to eat and here you are getting off, practically masturbating right in front of him with his cock.

You can feel how large his dick is as you grind together, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he pulled your underwear aside and fucked you properly while he drained your blood, the thought alone makes you shudder and press up against him as he continues to dry hump you. although with the sticky feeling between your legs and his wet mouth sucking on your neck, "dry" might be the wrong word.

you bite down on your own hand to muffle the sounds of your pleasure as you cum, still trying to hide your own lust, what would the priest think if he found out you were so lustful? if you were lucky he'd bend you over and spank you for being so sinful, at worst he might chain you down to the sacrificial altar and leave you there.

The priest pulls away, breathless, your blood smeared messily around his mouth "What a mess we've made," he huffs, looking down at your neck, and then his eyes drop further to the place where your bodies meet.

"I can clean it-" you offer weakly,

"no, no little thing, rest, you need to let your body heal, close your eyes, I'll take care of all this," he coos reassuringly, you nod obediently and close your eyes.

You look so venerable like this, he could do almost anything he wanted with you in this weakened state. the prophecy said it had to be a virginal sacrifice, maybe he could halt the ritual permanently if he just took what he'd wanted from the beginning.

[robo-writing]

It’s a silly idea that should have never made it out of the bedroom, but somehow it does. The stars align, the moon is in retrograde—or maybe you entertain the idea because Logan’s got on a pair of gray sweatpants and a devilish smile.

“Wanna make a movie together doll?”

And in hindsight, yeah, there’s a million and one things that could go wrong—the camera could fall and expose your faces, your boss sees it, your life is ruined—but hindsight is 20/20 and you can’t see much when Logan’s dick makes you cry out for more.

At the very least you still have enough sense to bury your face into the pillow when he bottoms out, when his cock hammers against that spongy part of you that makes your thighs quiver and your eyes roll. Your ass hurts, not only from the way they meet his hips with each thrust, but from how heavy his hands strike them on beat, jiggling them about as they ripple against him.

“Don’t expect me to do all the work princess,” he grins, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow. The heat of him spreads across your back, enveloping you in your own personal weighted blanket. The weight of him is only overshadowed by his cock bullying into your poor, aching pussy, but yet you want more—you need more.

Exhausted, you reach out to the camera on the nightstand, aim it down to where the two of you connect, and fuck yourself back onto him with as much vigor as you can muster.

“There she is,” he groans, canines nipping at your shoulder. “Go ahead and show the viewers how badly you want it.”

[seungkw1]

make me — ksy

♡ pairing: kwon soonyoung x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], humor ♡ wc: 1.8k ♡ warnings: alcohol consumption, oral (m. receiving, f. receiving implied), handjob, hoshi is obsessed w boobs, hoshi is a simp, i ramble on about star wars for a bit at the beginning ♡ a/n: might have to do a pt. 2 to this one so lmk if anyone is interested in that 👀

“No it’s not.”

“Yes, it is!!”

“Soonyoung. Be so fucking for real right now.” 

Your roommate doesn’t usually drink, and you’re starting to see why. Two Jack & Cokes and he’s fucking gone already.

“I’m telling you y/n, The Rise of Skywalker is so fucking good. You should stop being a haterrrr,” he says, inches away from your face as he leans over to you, nearly pushing you off the couch. You’ve never been this physically close to him, though you’ve certainly thought about it (more than once). Your heart flutters from the proximity of his lips to yours, but you have more important matters at hand right now.

“I didn’t say I hated it, it’s just not that good compared to all the other Star Wars movies!”

He picks up his drink again. You stop him before he can take a sip, handing him a glass of water instead. 

“Well how would I know? I haven’t seen the other movies.”

“WHAT?!”

He takes a big gulp of the water. “I’ve only seen the new ones,” he admits with a shrug.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, resting your forehead against your palm in exasperation. You grab the remainder of his beverage and drink it all in one go. 

This argument isn’t that serious of course - you just need to calm your nerves a bit, considering Soonyoung has now placed your hand on your thigh as he blabbers on.

“Besides, seeing Kylo Ren and Rey finally kiss was great. I cheered.”

“You’re a fucking REYLO SHIPPER??”

“A what?” He blinks at you with heavy eyelids. “I don’t speak that language.”

“Kylo Ren and Rey made a terrible couple, it’s literally toxic. The plot between them should’ve never been a romance.”

“But I like romance!” he practically shouts in your face. You’ve always enjoyed bantering with Soonyoung for fun, but the alcohol in both of your systems is definitely upping the ante. You’ve seen him act ridiculous plenty of times before, but he’s on another level today.

“It’s fucking Star Wars, it doesn’t need romance!!” you shout back.

“Well I think it does!” he states indignantly.

“What do you know?? You haven’t seen the other movies!!”

“So I can’t have an opinion??”

“NO??”

“Why are you being so mean to meeeee,” Soonyoung whines, making big sad puppy dog eyes at you. “I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.”

“You’re literally insane. Get off of me!” you shout as he leans over onto you, practically clinging onto you in his drunken stupor.

He ignores you, getting even more up in your face. “You’re just mad because I have better taste in movies than you.”

“Will you just shut the FUCK UP???”

“MAKE ME!”

You pause, staring at him for a few moments too long. He stares back at you, confusion spreading across his face. Then-

You kiss him.

Your lips press softly against his for only a few moments. You pull back, looking at your roommate eye to eye, watching his inebriated brain trying to process what just happened. As if a lightbulb goes off above his head, it suddenly clicks. He swallows nervously.

“What was that for?” he hesitantly asks, barely more than a whisper.

“I…” you start, but quite honestly you don’t know where that came from. Sure, you’ve found Soonyoung attractive since the day you met him - and sure, living with him has led to a few domestic fantasies here and there. But you are friends, nothing more - your boundaries are unspoken, but clearly established. 

Or so you thought.

Soonyoung’s dark eyes stare into yours. Panic alarms are going off in your head. You fucked up you fucked up you fucked up oh god you fucked up big time…

“I’m so sorr-”

You don’t get to finish that sentence. Soonyoung’s mouth aligns with yours, kissing you hungrily, his hands grasping onto your arms. Shock reverberates through your body as he makes out with you, his hands sliding to your back, pulling your body close against his as his tongue pokes at your lips, requesting entrance. You let him in. He squeezes you even tighter against him as he kisses you like his life depends on it.

After what felt like about a thousand years, you break apart, barely - his lips hovering mere inches in front of yours. The look he gives you is one you’ve never seen him make before - he gazes at you like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever seen, and he wants to devour you.

You try to speak, but nothing comes out. You’re simply dumbstruck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he mutters as his hands drop to your hips, still holding onto you for dear life.

“You… like me?”

You silently curse yourself at how dumb you sound. Asking him if he likes you, as if you were in fucking middle school.

“Yeah,” he replies emphatically. “I really really really like you.”

Your head spins, the intoxication doing nothing to help you process this information.

“Um… since when?” 

Soonyoung is still drunk as hell, but he speaks clear as day.

“Short answer, since we moved in together.”

You wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t.

“And the long answer?”

He shifts awkwardly, doing a very poor job of trying to hide his boner.

“Middle of July. It was hot as balls. I woke up that morning to you making pancakes. You were wearing a light blue tank top with nothing underneath, and-” he trails off. You raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to go on.

“And my god, your boobs looked perfect. The pancakes smelled good, but all I wanted was your tits in my mouth.” 

His hand delicately trails up to your breasts, where he is currently staring, taking one of them and squeezing it. He lets out a soft groan as he does.

“Fuck, even better than I imagined.”

“Is that why you took so long to come out for breakfast that day?” you say as your fingertips glide over his thigh, moving toward the very obvious bulge that has formed in his pants. You grab his cock through the fabric. He practically yelps as you begin to caress it slowly.

“Y-yeah,” he answers, his voice going up an octave, practically melting under your touch. 

“So you’re saying that you went and jerked off while you thought of my tits.”

“Um,” he tenses up nervously, realizing what he’s just admitted to.

Before he can say anything else, you take your shirt off, leaving you in just your bra. If his eyes could physically pop out of his head on a pair of springs, they’d be doing just that right now.

You unclasp the hook, removing the undergarment and tossing it aside. He gawks at you - his cock twitches under your palm. You begin to stroke his length, but he immediately grabs your hand to stop you.

“I’ll cum in my pants if you keep doing that.” He’s still staring at your chest.

“Where would you rather cum?”

“I- what?” He looks up at you, his eyes darting between your mouth and your eyes, then back to your boobs, then back to your mouth. 

“Okay then,” you say as you slide off the couch.

“What’re you-” he asks, but freezes as you position yourself between his legs. His body tenses as you undo his belt, quickly unfastening the button and yanking the zipper down. The rock hard bulge protrudes through the fabric of his underwear, begging to escape. You pull the band down, freeing his already-leaking cock. You take the length in your hands, giving it a few slow strokes. He sinks into the couch with a loud groan.

“Oh my god,” he mumbles, your touch sending him to another planet. 

With a swirl of your tongue you lap up the precum dripping from his tip, causing him to let out the biggest whine. You wrap your lips around the head, slowly taking his length into your mouth. 

“Fuckkkkkkk, y/n…” 

He lets out a gasp as you swallow him to his base. He places one hand softly upon your head as you begin to move your mouth up and down his cock. Within seconds he is a moaning, blubbering mess.

“Feels so good baby, oh god don’t stop. You’re so fucking hot oh my god… fuckkkk…”

You increase your pace. Between moans he continues praising you, whining and whimpering, begging you for more. The man simply cannot shut up about how good you’re sucking him off.

And it’s making you so incredibly wet right now.

You want to touch yourself so badly, but your priority is pleasuring Soonyoung. And judging by the way he is wriggling under you, bucking his hips and fucking his cock into your throat, unintelligibly babbling as he moans your name - you’re doing a pretty damn good job.

“Oh fuck,” he cries out. “Fuck, y/n, gonna cum…”

The words are barely out of his mouth before hot white ropes are hitting the back of your throat. He grips onto your hair as he cums, cock pulsating in your mouth as he rides out his high. As he comes down, he collapses into the sofa - you slowly pull your mouth off of him, making a show of swallowing all of his cum.

“Jesus fucking Christ, y/n…”

You climb back up onto the couch. He immediately leans in and starts kissing you.

“Thank you,” he murmurs between kisses.

“Are you seriously thanking me for sucking your dick?”

He shrugs as he wraps his arms around your waist. “You just gave me the best head of my life, least I can do is say thanks.”

“Actually,” he corrects himself right away, “I take that back. If you’ll let me, can I… may I please eat you out?”

You burst out laughing. He looks at you, puzzled.

“Sorry, if you don’t want-”

“No no no,” you tell him, still laughing. “It’s not that, I’ve just never had anybody ask me so politely like that before.”

His face lights up, hopeful. “So can I?” he pleads enthusiastically. “Pleaseeeeeeee? Please please please?”

You lean your head into his shoulder, giggling like an idiot.

“Soonyoung, you are truly one of a kind.”

He gently grabs your chin, tilting your head up until you are eye to eye. His nose presses into yours.

“Is that a yes?”

You smile as you kiss him.

“Yes, it’s a yes.”

He practically leaps off the couch, startling you. He grabs your hand, pulling you up and directing you toward his bedroom.

“Wait,” he says as he pauses. He looks at you very seriously.

“My room or yours?”

“Don’t care,” you respond eagerly.

He grins. “Yours, then.”

—

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 13

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

I'll keep the warnings, even though there is no outright mention in this part: Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Accidental Baby Procurement

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

The morning sunlight was streaming in through the open balcony windows, the scents of roses and honey filling the space. 

It was a lovely day.

And Feyre hated every fucking minute of it.

She couldn’t help herself.

Every since she had found out the full truth…had found out about what happened to Zarah… She couldn’t put it into words.

Devastated wasn’t enough, wasn’t even close to enough…

Her chest ached, her hands clenched at her sides. She was still…reeling.

From the looks of it, she thought bitterly as she caught sight of Elain sitting across her, clenching her hands…she wasn’t the only one. 

Even Nesta… unruffled Nesta, normally always straight backed say there, her shoulders caving in.

The only one who didn’t seem to understand what was going on at all was Nyx, who was happily playing with a couple of wooden blocks and that was it. 

“Why did you never tell me?“ Feyre demanded weakly. “Why did you never tell me about…“

“The affair?“ Elain asked softly.

“It wasn’t an affair!” Feyre snapped. It wasn’t. It had been rape. Plain and simple. Zahra had been raped. For 6 years. Dozens if not hundreds of times.

Elain flinched at her words, her eyes flinching away.

Nesta, meanwhile, just continued to stare off into the distance, her face a mask of cool nonchalance, but Feyre could tell…could see the hurt and pain behind her calm mask. 

Feyre swallowed back the lump in her throat, trying to control her emotions.

“Why?” she repeated, her voice softer this time. Why hadn’t they never told her about what had happened. Why had she been blinded to this all this time? Why had she never noticed anything?

It was just another failure on her part. Another failure to be a good sister, friend…just an all around failure.

Her hands balled themselves into fists, a hot flush of frustration and anger rising up within her. Silence settled over the space, only broken by the sound of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves from the gardens, of Nyx playing happily with his blocks…

But it wasn’t comfortable silence, it was cold and tense.

Feyre didn’t know what to say, what to think.

The realization, the weight of what she had never known, settled around her like a shroud. “Because I didn’t want you to get the idea that sleeping with a married man was something you should do too. Isaac Hale was bad enough,” Nesta said, her voice flat. 

Feyre clenched her jaw, her teeth grinding together. She fought back the urge to retort back with something equally sharp, but she knew it wouldn’t help right now. Instead she took a deep breath, her voice shaking.

“Zahra wasn’t sleeping with a married man, it was rape.” she whispered, her stomach churning with emotion.

Her hands trembled slightly, her palms sweaty. She felt sick. Sick to her stomach at the thought of what her sister had gone through.

She felt sick to her stomach at the thought of what she hadn’t known about…what had happened right before her eyes and she hadn’t…known. 

She had not…

Not one word from Zahra. Not one time where Feyre had thought something was amiss. That something was wrong…

She should have seen it. Should have realised that Zahra wore long sleeves even while cooking, even in the summer. Did she want to know what she had hidden beneath these dresses. Had it been bruises? Had it been something worse? 

Feyre should have realised that sometimes Zahra had slept on the cold wood floor and not shared the bed with her sisters… Not because she hadn’t wanted to, but because she probably hasn’t been able to stand the thought of another person touching her.

All of those tiny things she hadn’t even noticed…all of those signs Feyre had missed.

All of the times that Feyre hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t helped. Hadn’t protected her. She should have been there for Zahra. Should have been there as a friend, as a confidant, as a sister. She should have been the one to notice. To step in. 

Feyre should have…seen it then.

But she hasn’t.

Feyre hasn’t seen it then.

Feyre hasn’t stepped in when she had returned to her family, when they were wealthy again and Zahra was a maid, working for her own family, her own father. Feyre should have…she should have done something against that…but she hadn’t. She hadn’t done anything. 

She should have done something once her sisters had been turned Fae… after the war…and not simply…not simply ignored Zahra because suddenly Elain and Nesta wanted to spend time with her…

She shouldn’t have simply accepted their behaviour towards Zahra either.

Feyre should have made sure everyone was fine. That her entire family was doing okay.Instead she had been so wrapped up in herself and her relationship with Rhys, in new motherhood, in everything but what was right before her nose. .

She had been so goddamn oblivious.

And Zahra…poor Zahra had…had been carrying this horrible secret with her. All alone for so god damned long all the while nobody cared or noticed.

Feyre had been a shitty sister, a shitty friend.

And now her guilt was going to eat her alive.

Feyre swallowed, the bitter taste of guilt and regret filling her mouth.

She had been so selfish. So selfish to not notice…to not see

And Azriel…he had been so furious. 

His voice like cold death. Vicious in his protection of his mate. She couldn’t get over that.

“I just can’t see it,” Elain said suddenly. “Azriel and Zahra.”

Elain’s voice snapped Feyre out of her reverie, and she glanced over. Elain had a look of utter bewilderment on her face, as she spoke softly, as if unable to piece the puzzle together within her head. “I just can’t picture them together,” she repeated, her tone reflecting the disbelief she was feeling. “They…just… don’t seem like they'd be a good fit,'' Elain continued, her brow furrowed.

She was the picture of confusion, unable to wrap her mind around the match. 

The comment made Feyre bristle, a rush of protectiveness surging up inside her.

"They are a great fit," she responded firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. 

They were. Both content to exist in the quiet, both with a sharp bting humour that only came out sometimes…

They were a good fit. If there was any male that Feyre trusted with her sister after that revelation it was Azriel. 

“And I don’t want to hear how he deserves better,” Feyre snapped at Nesta. “Zahra is our sister,” she stressed. Their sister. 

Regardless of the circumstances of her birthday. She was still their sister. 

Nesta seemingly flinched at that. “She is.” Nesta’s voice was flat as she said that and Feyre was so surprised that she could just stare at her eldest sister as Nesta lifted a pair of grey eyes to look at her. “What, do you wish for me to disagree?” Nesta asked her with a sigh. “Gwyn nearly bit off my head, Emerie is so furious that she had a screaming fit and Cassian doesn’t even talk to me anymore.”

“I…I didn't say…that," Feyre sputtered, taken aback by the words from her sister.But seeing the look on her face…she was more than stunned. Seeing her sister like this…it hurt. It made her chest ache with a dull pain.

“He doesnt talk?” Elain asked surprised.

Nesta looked away, her gaze fluttering to somewhere in the distance. "He…hasn't really said anything," she admitted in a voice that was so small and soft, Feyre had to strain to hear it. She was twisting her hands together in her lap, a strange vulnerability to her eyes as she spoke. She looked…wary, as if afraid of what Feyre might say or do in response.

“He’s furious with me. But also doesn’t want me to fix it,” Nesta spat out suddenly.

"What?" Feyre asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes locked onto Nesta’s, watching as a flurry of emotions played across her face. There was anger, yes. But there was also pain. Sorrow. Despair. Remorse. Guilt. All of it swirling together in a confusing storm of emotion. 

Feyre’s heart ached at the sight, her chest tightening in response to the turmoil she was witnessing. She wanted to help, to comfort, to offer some sort of solace in this moment of pain. But she didn’t know what to do. 

“I just want to apologise,“ Elain whispered. Didn’t they all? Elain looked down at her hands as she spoke, her voice soft and filled with regret. "But how can I? I…I don’t even know what to say," she admitted, swallowing hard. Her hands curled into small fists, as if the act of speaking the words aloud was physically painful. 

“And we can’t even get to her, can’t even see her, because Azriel is controlling all access to her!” Nesta snapped.

“Not controlling. Protecting,” Feyre corrected her sister gently, though she shared her frustration.

Her voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, an underlying sense of understanding.

She knew that Azriel was doing everything in his power to protect Zahra, to keep her safe. She understood that drive, the protective instinct that was driving Azriel now. Feyre herself would move mountains to protect those she loved. She understood Azriel’s need to do the same for his mate. 

But…was this really the best for Zahra? To cut her off from her sisters?

Her chest ached as she considered the question, and she couldn’t help but feel that Azriel was going too far.

He was doing these things out of love and protectiveness, she could see that, but in doing so, he was creating an even bigger divide between Zahra and her sisters.

He was isolating her, and it wasn't right. 

She knew Azriel had a temper, and that he could be fiercely overprotective when it came to those he cared about. But this…this was too much.

It wasn’t good for anyone. 

Feyre looked between Elain and Nesta, her heart twinging in sympathy.

She could see the pain in both of their eyes, the hurt.

And she couldn’t help…she couldn’t help but remember a time where she herself had been locked away. Out of love. Out of protectivness…

And now, Feyre couldn't help but wonder if Azriel was now becoming the "Tamlin" in this scenario. 

She didn't want to think about it, didn't want to believe that Azriel would turn into something like that.But she couldn't deny the signs.

Azriel was acting out of love, certainly, but that didn't mean that what he was doing was right.

It needed to stop. And it needed to stop soon. 

She let out a deep sigh, reaching to grasp for each of her sister’s hands.

"We need to talk to him," she said finally, her voice firm. She glanced between them both, her expression resolute. "We can’t let this continue. It’s not good for anyone involved. Especially not for Zahra."

She squeezed both of their hands, hoping that they would understand.

She wasn’t going to let her sisters and her…her friend, suffer because of Azriel’s overprotective nature. 

“And how do you want to do that?” Elain asked. “Please remember that your own mate wants us to give her time,” Elain said sharply. “Our options are limited. We have no idea where Rosehall even is!” 

True. 

The other option was tryin to talk to Azriel using her daemati powers, but somehow she doubted that that would go over well either…

"Do you think Mor would tell you where Rosehall is?" Nesta asked Feyre.

Feyre paused at that, her brow furrowing slightly. She hadn't even considered asking Mor, but maybe that was a good idea. It was worth a try, at least.

"I don’t know," she muttered. "But it’s worth asking, I suppose?"

But all of that didn’t even…it didn’t really get to the crux of that matter either. 

“Why did she never say?” Feyre asked weakly. “I get that she never told you. You hate her!” she spat out. “But I don’t!” 

“We don’t hate her!” Elain said immediately. “It’s just…”

“Every time I looked at Zahra the only thing I could think about is how utterly useless our father was,” Nesta spat out. “But that’s my problem and not hers and I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have let it out on her…”

"And yet you did!!" Feyre exclaimed, frustration boiling over within her. “You hated her and treated her…" She trailed off, her voice catching on the words. "You treated her worse than dirt, Nesta," she gritted out, her eyes flashing with anger. 

“We all did,” Elain said softly, her voice trembling.

Feyre looked over at her, and her heart ached at the sight of the two of them.

Nesta and Elain were both strong and fierce women, but at this moment, they looked so…broken.

Feyre wanted to say something, to comfort them both, but she couldn’t find the words. Instead, she bit her lip, her heart a mess of conflicting emotions.

Guilt, regret, anger, hurt. It all raged within her. 

She wished she could go back in time, and do something different. But she couldn't. All they could do was…move forward.

And the first step…the first step was to get through to Azriel. Somehow. Some way.She just hoped that she could manage it.  She let out a small breath, looking between her sisters.

"Let's go talk to Mor," she said finally, her voice quiet yet determined.

She knew it was going to be a difficult conversation, but it was necessary. They needed to do this. For themselves, for each other. And for Zahra. 

****

Azalea was curled up against Azriel’s chest, scarred hands carefully holding the sleepy baby. Her eyelids were fluttering, her tiny hands grasping at her Father's shirt while her head lolled on his chest.

Azriel was murmuring softly to her, the words too low for Zahra to understand. But the sound of his voice was enough to keep the girl blissfully asleep, her chest rising and falling peacefully.

Azriel's hand was curled protectively around the tiny form in his arms, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her back in an attempt to soothe the girl.

She had been fighting sleep, refusing to give in to exhaustion despite the long and tiring day. But now...Now she was succumbing to the pull of sleep, her little eyelids drifting closed more and more with every passing second. Azriel's fingers continued their gentle ministrations, his touch careful and loving as he worked to coax the baby into a deep sleep.

His own exhaustion was beginning to show on his face, the lines around his eyes and mouth deeper than usual. But he kept his eyes fixed on the small, vulnerable form he was holding, refusing to look away, as if afraid that she might disappear if he were to blink.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Azalea's eyes fluttered closed completely, her small body relaxing fully in her father's arms.

Azriel let out a soft breath, his fingers stilling in their movements as he watched the tiny girl's breathing even out. She was finally asleep, her tiny face softened in complete peace and contentment. 

Azriel carefully adjusted his grip, making sure to keep the baby tucked snugly against his chest, close to his heart. His hand gently brushed a stray strand of hair away from the girl's face, his touch reverent. 

He tilted his head down slightly, his lips gently kissing the top of the baby's head.

Zahra could see the love in his eyes, the affection practically pouring off of him in waves. “Come to bed,” she whispered softly. Azriel looked up, smiling at her.

Azalea was placed reverently on the bed next to Zahra, where she had carefully rolled up a few blankets to protect the baby from the wall, the bed was pushed against.

Zahra would take the middle, with Azalea to her left and Azriel to her right… 

Azalea stirred as Azriel laid her down carefully,  a small noise of protest escaping her lips. But as soon as she was settled against Zahra, she immediately curled into the touch, her small hands grasping at her nightgown.

It was like the baby was drawn to her, instinctively seeking out the comfort of her presence even in sleep, and Zahra pressed a kiss to the dark curls that covered her head, pulling a small fur trimmed blanket over her, fussing with it.  

“Where can you get these?” She asked Azriel softly as he slipped into bed behind her, schooching closer until he could pull her in his arms. Azriel hummed as he tucked himself against her back, pressing his chest firmly against her. His arms curled around her waist, pulling her in close.

"The blankets?" he mumbled quietly, his breath warm on her neck. “I think my mother made them, with some flannel and furs of some rabbitsI hunted for dinner once.” He took a moment to press a soft kiss to the side of her neck, his lips lingering on her skin. “I’ll go hunt some more rabbits tomorrow,” he told her simply.

“You don’t need to do that,” Zahra protested.

He let out a soft snort, his arms tightening around her just a fraction.

"I know I don't need to," he murmured, his tone soft and amused. "But I want to," he added, his voice becoming more serious. “My girls won’t get cold on my watch.” 

My girls. 

Something in her chest warmed at these words. My girls. 

Azriel pressed another kiss to her neck before burying his face into the crook of her shoulder, his lips brushing against her skin.  “Besides, it’s a point of pride for e very Illyrian male to provide for his wife and children,” Azriel said softly. “Probably the one time I agree with something they do,” he murmured with some sarcasm. 

Wife.

The word landed in her mind like a bell rung.

Wife.

The way he said the word, the quiet possessiveness in his voice, sent a shiver down her spine.

She could feel his chest pressing against her back, the heat of it seeping through her shirt, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

Zahra let out a shaky breath, her heart stuttering inside her chest. "Wife," she repeated quietly, testing the word on her tongue. 

“Or mate,” Azriel said softly. “Either is fine with me. Whatever you prefer.”

She exhaled shakily. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be a proper mate,” she whispered quietly. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to stand the thought of offering him food and triggering the Mating Frenzy. Wasn’t sure if the thought of him, with all his inhibitions bared wasn’t going to terrify her. She never wanted to be terrified of Azriel. She never had been either…but the thought of that it was…she wasn’t sure if she could do that. But she could… “But I could be your wife.”

Azriel's arms tightened around her at her words, his body shifting to press even closer against her. She could feel him nuzzling his face into the crook of her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin.

"No such thing as a 'proper mate'," he murmured quietly, his voice low and reassuring. "You are my mate. Regardless if we ever go through a mating frenzy or not," he added, his lips finding the soft spot behind her ear. She shivered slightly as his lips grazed her skin, his touch setting her nerves on fire.

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, the possessiveness in his tone making her breath hitch. “We should get married. You know…only to make sure that Azalea isn’t a bastard,” she told him, biting her lips. Not a bastard like both of the. 

Azriel let out a low chuckle, his arms tightening around her just a fraction."That's the only reason, huh?" he teased, his voice low and amused.

His lips found her neck again, pressing a trail of kisses against her skin.“I love you,” he whispered into her skin.

The simple words made her shiver, her breath catching in her throat.

His lips continued their path up her neck, warm and soft against her skin. She could feel the heat of his body pressing against her back, the warmth of his chest against her back.  His mouth made it to her jawline, his lips brushing against the skin there affectionately. She could feel his breaths against her neck, every exhale sending a fresh wave of heat over her skin and setting her heart a-flutter.

"I love you," he repeated quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I love you and I want to marry you." 

His lips found hers as he tugged her face around. The kiss was gentle, soft and unhurried.

There was no urgency to it, no desperation or force. Just his lips against hers, tasting her slowly, drinking her in.  This and just this…she could do this.

Nothing in this kiss reminded her off before. Nothing hurt, nothing even threatened to hurt and she let him kiss her lazily a until they both had their fill, before she leaned back into the pillows, one enormous wing coming over to cover her and Azalea as well, still curled against her side.Azriel's arm wrapped around her, his body shifting closer until he was pressed flush against her side.

His wing spread over the three of them, creating a makeshift shelter and a comfortable warmth.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, his breath soft against her skin as he placed a soft kiss behind her ears. The weight of his body was reassuring, a comfort that settled her.

His wing was curled around them both, the shadows dancing like flickering stars across the darkness as his shadows wrapped themselves around them both.

She could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against hers, his body warm and solid, offering comfort and security. His arm was curled around her waist, holding her close, while his other hand began to gently brush her hair.

The motion was soothing, his touch gentle and rhythmic as he combed his fingers through the strands. 

“Is there a priestess around Rosehall?” She asked him softly.

Azriel let out a soft hum, his hand stilling in her hair as he considered the question.

"There is," he answered quietly, his lips brushing against the side of her neck. "Why?" 

“If we do this…” she said softly, “let’s just do it here. Let’s just do it, just for the two of us and nobody else.”

Azriel's lips curled into a soft smile as she spoke, his arm tightening around her waist.

"Just the two of us?" he asked, his voice soft and full of affection."Are you sure?"

His mouth found her neck again, his lips tracing a slow path up. “Maybe your mother and Azalea,” she said softly. “But nobody else.”

He chuckled against her skin, the sound so low and soft she could feel the vibrations of it against her spine.

"You want my mother there?" he asked, his voice still tinged with laughter. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck again, his lips brushing against her pulse point. “And I suppose Azalea can be our flower girl,” he murmured into her skin, amusement in his voice. “But if you want it like that…we’ll do it,” Azriel agreed softly. “I hate big parties, you know that.”

“Just us,” she repeated.

“Just us,” Azriel said softly. “We’ll go see a priestess tomorrow.”

She smiled at him, craning her head to press another kiss against his lips.Azriel hummed against her mouth, returning the kiss with equal affection.

His hand slid back up to sift through her hair again, his fingers carding through the strands in a way that sent pleasurable tingles down her spine.

His wing shifted, curling more closely around them, enveloping them in its darkness. “Sleep now, sunshine” he told her seriously.

And so she did.

With Azriel's body pressed to hers, his arms circled around her waist, his wing draped over her and Azalea and his lips against her neck, she let herself drift into sleep easily.

The sound of Azriel's quiet, steady breaths in her ear was like a lullaby, soothing and familiar. 

“Are you sure you don’t at least want some kind of celebration?!” Esmeray demanded the next morning, while Zarah was wrangling Azalea to eat her porridge and Azriel and asked his mother where to find the Priestess of Rosehall for an impromptu wedding ceremony.

"I don't want any big celebration," Zahra repeated firmly, balancing a wriggling Azalea on her lap as the baby tried to grab at her spoon. She couldn't help but smile as the girl squealed. "We just want a simple ceremony," she insisted, carefully feeding Azalea before the baby could send porridge flying from her mouth.  “Just us, Azalea and you,” she told Esmeray. “I don’t want to deal with planning a big wedding and neither does Azriel. 

Esmeray huffed, a look of mock-annoyance crossing her face. "My little boy, having a small wedding?" she teased, her voice laced with sarcasm. “I did not see that coming at all.  It’s so unlike him.”

Zahra couldn’t help but laugh. "We prefer it that way," she assured Esmeray. "We just want something simple and intimate. No fuss. Something just for us.”

Esmeray sighed. “It sounds lovely,” she assured Zahra. “But don’t even think you are get out of buying the poor girl a ring, Azriel!”

Azriel let out a soft laugh at his mother's comment. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed leisurely across his chest.

"Of course I'm going to get her a ring," he assured his mother with an amused smile. "I wouldn't dream of not getting her something," he added, his voice soft and affectionate.

He pushed off of the doorframe, striding towards them lazily and sitting down beside Zahra. His wing came out to wrap around them, its shadows playing over Azalea's hair. Azalea squealed, her eyes wide as she tried to swat at the shadows moving about. Zahra couldn't help but laugh at her daughter's antics.

She leaned her head back against Azriel's chest, relishing the comfort of his presence. "Besides," Azriel added, his arm coming around Zahra's shoulders and tugging her closer. "I think she deserves a nice, big, shiny diamond for putting up with me. Don’t you?" 

Esmeray chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Of course. Something large and sparkling is definitely what's in order," she agreed, glancing at Zahra with a warm smile. 

“Don’t you dare,” Zahra said drily. “I want a simple gold band.“

"Oh come on, honey," Esmeray coaxed, her voice full of mirth.”How about an emerald at least? It would match your eyes!”

“I don’t even wear any jewellery half the time,” Zahra said with a snort. “Azriel can save his money. A gold band more than suffices for me,” she promised him. As long as he was the one giving it to her…

Azriel's smirk softened at her words, his eyes softening.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

"Alright, a simple gold band it is," he conceded, though there was still a hint of teasing in his voice.  "Your wish is my command," he murmured against her skin.

His hand slid down to grasp her own, lifting it to his lips and placing a soft kiss against the back of her knuckles. 

“Come on Zahra, we’ll figure out a dress, Esmeray said with a smile. “If you would have given me more than a few hours of time, I would have made you one but alas,” Esmeray clucked her tongue….we’ll need to see what I can scrounge up that is fit for a bride.“

Zahra let out a huff of laughter, allowing Esmeray to tug her out of her chair and away from Azriel.  

A heavy woolem cream coloured dress ended up being her choice, something she had worn numerous times before. Azriel came upon them in the bedroom, watching from the doorway as Esmeray fussed over her, and at least insisted of putting a couple of poor long suffering wildflowers in her hair. 

He leant against the frame, arms crossed, wings casually held out behind him, a slight smile on his face. “Ready?“ he asked her.

“Do you have your coat?” Esmeray demanded from her son. “I won’t have you get out of providing a bride gift either!“

A bride gift? 

She had no idea what Esmeray was talking about but Azriel did. 

Azriel's smile widened into a smirk, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I do have my coat, mother," he replied, his voice amused. “And I’ll get Zahra a bride gift, don’t you worry.”

She had no idea what that was about. Azriel's smirk widened further into a grin as he pushed away from the door frame, striding into the room to join them.

He wrapped an arm around Zahra's waist, tugging her gently against his side.

“It’s illyrian tradition that I gift you a coat at the wedding made from furs of an animal I hunted,” he explained softly. Well, that explained that. "You look beautiful," he murmured into her ear.  

“Thank you,” she whispered right back. Azriel's hand held onto her, his presence reassuring as Esmeray finished fussing over the dress.

She finally got to see Rosehall proper. A bustling little hamlet filled with busy work and laughing children…

Azriel led her down the narrow cobblestone streets, his hand still holding hers loosely. The hamlet was indeed bustling, filled with the sounds of laughter and conversation, the chatter of children and the smells of cooking food. As they walked, people glanced up and waved, some giving them curious looks, but mostly smiles. 

Azriel gave nods of greeting in return, while Esmeray greeted them by name.  He kept his wing curled behind her, shadows swirling lazily about them. 

Azalea, perched on her Zahra’s hip, was wide-eyed and curious, taking in the sights and sounds of the hamlet with unabashed fascination. She wriggled in her mother's arms, her tiny hands reaching for everything and everyone within grasp.

Azriel chuckled at the girl's enthusiasm, his hand coming up to ruffle her hair affectionately. "Someone's eager to explore," he commented with a smile, glancing down at her. 

Azalea babbled something incoherent in response, her focus on the surrounding hamlet, her small fingers flexing as if trying to reach out and touch things.

Zahra smiled down at her, her own eyes scanning the surrounding scenery. “Who can blame her?” Zahra answered softly. “She’ll like it at home, I think.”

Azriel's gaze softened as he looked at them both. "Of course she will," he agreed, his voice affectionate.

His hand gave her own another slight squeezed, his wing shifting to wrap a little more firmly around them both as they continued down the street. 

She wasn’t quite sure what to expect of an Illyrian priestess. Was it going to be similar to the blue robes priestesses at the House of Wind?

They arrived at the temple a few minutes later, a simple structure of stone and wood that looked to be well-maintained, despite its rustic nature. There were no blue robes, but instead a young woman speaking in a language Zahra did not understand at all. Illyrian.

“You’ll need to teach me,” she told Azriel quietly as they waited for a moment. “Azalea will need to learn.”

Azriel glanced down at her with a small smile, his eyes soft. “I will,” he promised her, his hand reaching down to squeeze her own.

The young woman turned back to them then, her eyes flickering between the both of them.

“Are you ready?” she asked in a lilting tone.

Azriel gave a nod. He turned to Zahra and Azalea, his gaze meeting her own.

“Are you?” he asked quietly, his hand reaching up to brush back a strand of her hair. Zahra met his gaze, her fingers curling around his own. She swallowed back the flutter in her stomach, glancing back at Azalea, who was still busy looking about the temple with wide eyes.

“Yes.”

That one word was all she could manage in that moment.

Azriel gave a small nod, his smile soft and warm. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, his gaze flickering back to the priestess.

The young woman led them towards the center of the temple, a small but sacred-looking area.The inside was simple, but there was an air of reverence, a feeling of something sacred about the space. 

It wasn’t like a human wedding at all. But then Zahra had never thought that she would get to have this at all either.

And as she looked at Azriel…suddenly it was so easy.

She handed Azalea to Esmeray, while the baby looked on wide eyed and slipped her hands in Azriel‘s scarred once, feeling at home at once.

She didn’t care what blessings the priestess did, didn’t care if they were High Fae or Illyrian, all she cared about was that they bound her to him.

Azriel's hands clasped around her own, his palms warm and calloused against hers.

The sound of the priestess’ voice was a low melody, the words spoken in Illyrian and so foreign to Zahra’s ears. But she didn’t need to understand the words, not with the way Azriel was gazing at her. t was the look in his eyes, the way his hands held her own, like he would never let her go.

His gaze was soft, his eyes filled with an affection that made her feel weak at the knees.

She could lose herself in those eyes. The blessing continued, the priestess’ voice a steady cadence. Azriel’s eyes never left her own, his expression soft as they continued to hold each other's hands, their fingers laced together tightly. 

She did finally figure out for what he needed the coat.

Because when he ceremony neared its end, he pulled it from his own shoulders and clasped it around hers, heavy and warm. As Azriel settled the heavy leather over her shoulders, she immediately felt an added layer of warmth settle over her skin.

The coat was like a solid weight, a reminder and a promise. The scent of cedar and mist immediately teased her senses and she inhaled deeply, the familiar and comforting smell settling over her. His hands lingered on her shoulders for a moment, gently adjusting the garment before coming up to her chin, gently tilting up her face to meet his gaze.

She met his eyes, noting the affection in them, the possessiveness. The look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. She barely heard the final words of the ceremony as she was lost in that intense gaze of his.

The sound of the priestess’ voice seemed far away, her own heartbeat a steady, quick thrum in her ears.

Azriel's hands continued to cup her face, his fingers warm against her skin. The feeling of his hands against her, the way he held her so carefully and gently as though she was something precious and fragile, sent another flutter through her chest.

His gaze roamed over her face, as if drinking in the sight of her, his expression a mixture of awe and affection. And the he kissed her. A soft warm press of his lips a faint hers.

As his lips met hers, the flutter in her chest grew stronger, a warm feeling spreading throughout her body. She could faintly hear the sound of clapping around them, but she was lost in the feel of him.

His mouth pressed against hers, his hands gentle on her face. 

[rafeandonlyrafe]

reflective

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, tattoed!reader, mirror sex, doggystyle, unprotected sex

rafe faces you towards the mirror, a smirk on his features that you can see in the reflection. you played the long game, teased him and flirted until he was desperate to get you in his bed.

“can't wait to see you…” rafe huffs out, hands moving down from your waist to grip your ass, shoving your skirt up to reveal you're not wearing anything underneath.

“dirty girl.” rafe chuckles, fingers plunging down to swipe through your folds, feeling the rush of wetness at your core.

“fuck me already.” you pant. you would like his fingers or even his mouth at any other time, but you just need him.

“shit, yeah i will.” rafe tugs his shirt off, tossing it aside before working to undo the button on his pants. 

you take him pulling off his pants as an opportunity to push yourself up onto your knees and tug your shirt off, undoing your bra next.

you get back into position, watching rafe behind you in the mirror as you let your bra fall down your shoulders, revealing your bare tits.

“shit, you're hot.” rafe groans, aligning himself behind you. his eyes move from yours in the mirror to the back of your head, eyes following your spine down when he notices the tattoo inked into your skin.

“what's this?” he questions, finger swirling around the mix of stars and butterflies along your back.

“you like it?” you smirk, shaking your ass to draw rafes eyes lower to your bum.

“i like everything about having you naked.” rafe leans down to press a kiss to your spine, directly on the center butterfly.

he makes eye contact with you in the mirror again, wanting to watch your face as his hips push forward, burying his cock into your cunt in one smooth motion.

your mouth drops open into a moan, the muscles on your back flexing to look like the butterfly has come alive.

“oh my god, that feels so good.” you moan out, rafe thankfully giving you a moment to adjust to his length, cock seated fully inside of you.

you breathe deeply, allowing your body to relax as much as you can in your kneeling position, hands pressing down into the mattress.

rafe can't decide what to look at as he begins to thrust, hips pumping forward as his eyes switch from your face in the mirror, to your swinging tits, to your back tattoo swirling around down to your ass.

rafe can't help himself, forceful thrusts pushing you forward as you fall to your elbows, his intensity not at all shocking you based on his reputation.

“you like my tattoo so much, you ever thought of getting one of your own?” you ask, eyes struggling to stay open and not clench closed in pleasure.

“nah, looks good on you though.” rafe bends forward, pressing his chest into your back as he whispers in your ear. “real sexy.”

you turn your head to connect your lips, mouth easily being dominated as rafe continues to thrust, pushing hard to get you to moan, using the opportunity of your mouth dropping open to press his tongue inside, tasting you.

“delicious.” rafe moans, licking his lips to get every remnant of you smeared across his tongue.

“you should taste more of me.” the corner of your mouth quirks up, meaning it to just be teasing words, but rafe quickly hums in agreement, wrapping his arm around you and swiping his fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness onto his fingertips.

you watch in the reflection as he draws his hand to his mouth, somehow able to focus enough to keep fucking into you, his tongue darting out to lick around his fingers, smearing your slick all over his tongue.

“need to fuck you too bad right now, but next time-” rafe gives you a pointed look, clearly telling you there will be a next time. “i want you sitting on my face.”

your cheeks heat red at the thought of grinding your pussy down onto his awaiting mouth.

rafe can only keep his hand away from your cunt for so long, returning to rubbing your clit, watching the way your face contorts in pleasure.

“m-more.” you whine. “harder, please.”

“harder?” rafe shakes his head. “you little slut.”

rafe catches you rolling your eyes in the reflection and doubles down on his thrusts, pushing as fast and deep as he can, determined to make you cum.

“close.” you warn, but rafe can tell from the way your pussy is squeezing tightly around him, clenching and pulsing around his cock as it spears into you.

“fuck, me too baby.” rafe groans, his head falling back, neck muscles on display all the way down to the v line before it disappears into you.

your eyes drink in every inch of him. every beautiful, gleaming inch as he exerts himself to get you off, a slight sheen of sweat over his body.

“fuck!” you squeal as rafe toys with your clit, giving it a pinch that sends you over the edge, screams ripping from your throat.

“shit, baby.” rafe moves his hands to hold your hips still, fucking you through your orgasm as he pounds into your ass, pulling you back onto his cock as he cums buried as deep as possible inside you as possible.

the second you feel him stop releasing, you can no longer hold yourself up on shaking arms as you flop onto your stomach, rafe not far after you as he lays on the bed to the side of you.

“never thought a back tattoo could be so… cute and delicate.” rafe chuckles, fingertips dusting down your spine as you both breathe heavily.

“‘m not delicate.” you argue back. “i can handle it.”

“oh baby, i know.” rafe laughs. “you just did.”

[vivisviolets]

⛓ who is your tribe? 𓆩📓𓆪 𓆩🖤𓆪 how will you meet? ⛓

✮i love how i connected these 3 pics im sooo smart guys

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ -pick the image that gotchu good 👁👁 gotcha eyes~ you know how to do it I know you do- if you feel unclear, take a nice deep breath, connect with spirit/God/your higher self, and ask what messages would serve you in this very moment~ this has been your radio host vi-vi talkin🎙, and I'll catch at your pile~🖋️✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖✮pile 1✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Five of Swords (reversed), Five of Wands (reversed), Ace of Wands, The Hierophant, Page of Cups (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ (slight 18+ cw) Libra/air placemnets, 7th house (Sun/Moon/Rising/Mercury/7h dominant etc), 1 house placements, Aries placements/degrees (Moon/Rising, etc), Nepo baby/“girl(boy/kid)-next-door” vibes, hair extentions, “going blonde”, Legally Blonde, angel numbers 1111, 222, 2424, 1234, channeled songs, Casual - Chappell Roan + How to be a Heartbreaker - MARINA

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Hello my pile 1s!!!!! omg i wanted to jump right in but I feel the need to greet you into this becaussse- omg you are gorgeous- like I am being so fr DO NOT play yourself down I can hear the mind chatter of some of you gearing up at me saying that,-shut that shish down. on the other side of this group,- you already know you were born beautiful, raised beautiful, and have always been your own created beauty, you’re so tapped into that and really you always have- so I want everyone in this pile, to align to that energy rn. 👏R👏N👏. No matter your upbringing, whatever your family told you, your past friend groups, your classmates,- you don’t got to do or be someone else’s anything. you speak for yourselfff- and you always have!! no matter how deep your security periods were, you still radiated- radiance💎 and strength- damn you guys are strong, no matter how “submissive” some of yall feel to be (your vulnerability is divine btw and def a part of your strength)- you are strong af. strong in only a way the wind is (I mean think of how destructive that nature can be yet how soothing its flow is when it is calm) or a polished pillar… I JUST KEEP HEARING IT- YOU GUYS ARE BEAUTIFULLLL. ugh I gotta get into more dets for you- I’m hearing that some of you are blonde (natural/dyed/bleached it dont matter) and damn does it make you look like a star ☆- PLEASEEE YOU’RE A STARRR ♥️- sorry- it looks so good on you the more fair aura because that is definitely the color of your aura in social situations (I’m hearing pale lavender, blue, pink, yellow), I’m hearing you have very calming eyes.. something about the color of your eyes is very “even” in color, or you may know how to keep very even eye contact and that makes the color of your eyes stand out (anyyy eye color- I’m even seeing some of you may have a kind of heterochromia where you may have a dot of brown in your blue iris/other colors apply, etc), some of the people who you’ve kept such level eye contact with during conversation- they think they’d be able to see your eyes in a dark room they stand out so much…

oh my god pile 1 you are a star- moving forward I have to mention, some of you are very proud brunettes- as you fucking should be because oh my jesus that’s hot, your hot, you are a star ★, a superstar- I am not just saying that holy shit. I’m seeing you may stand out in your friend group or who you usually hang out with due to your coloring whatever that may mean (for example cus we’re on the topic of hair- you may be a blonde within a lot of brunettes, or vice versa- you may have brown eyes among a bunch of blue/green eyes, vice versa- you may be only one who tans, has lots of birth marks, wears their hair natural, etc etc),- now I’m hearing I should be giving random styling opinions/boosting- so if you have a y2k grunge aesthetic, or old hollywood glam style you look incredibleeee- don’t you fucking dare bring your body type into this- if you’re an apple body you look like literal heaven in a pair of low rise bedazzled jeans- long straight hair looks so good with your body shape, get wigs if you’ve been thinking about it- get braids if you’ve been wanting them- different color highlights is definitely a good idea (blonde, orange, blue, purple), tighter tops look so good on your body shape (lace up ones or ones with details/graphtics)- a clean sleek white dress would literally ☆shock☆ everyone in a room who knows you/your style (and ppl who don’t know you loll), nude makeup that matches the rest of your undertones, glossy press on nails, one piece of jewelry per type here and there,- some more gn/masc opinions I’m hearing are more shaped clothes, botton downs tucked in high rise straight down jeans/pants (showcase the shape of your shoulders and waist a bit moreee)- I’m hearing if you were to wear a brooch of somekind on your shirt pocket you’d drive someone “wild”-… I MEAN MAYBE THAT’LL JUST BE ME 💞💀- curls look so great on you also, like if you did a larger loose curl somewhere in the front of your hair- gel curls would also look hot on you- star accents of some kind (jewelry, belt charms, keychains, even tattoos),,, you are totally someone’s “pretty boy”/“pretty girl”/“pretty baby”… OH MY GOD THIS IS A RELATIONSHIPS/FRIENDSHIPS PAC WHERE WAS III-

so I was getting into it even in the energy check-in some of you may be coming from a place of past drama- yes I said past bc even if it's fresh it will be past, and in that it is already the past babe. so anyway- there is something.. romantic here- possibly, but really I’m hearing you are in admiration by a lot of eyes-… now I’m hearing “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid lol BAHHA oooohh~ you think your life is really mundane and so you’re hearing me say you have eyeballs on you like “… I leave my house once a week”- …bitch- your envioment means nothinggg and can change when you want it to fr. no matter your place this is your natural energy- I’m hearing your natural energy is being a socialite- and I mean you are meant to shine like a glittery star in various rooms- WITH YOUR GAL PALS!! this can even apply for going into a business/professional environment where you speak and interact with a lot of people and you are at the center of that- But anyway take it where it may apply. for some of you- you may do amazing in more queer centered places (clubs, awareness groups, or even drag shows in your area), places with a lot of creativity in relation to fashion (maybe even theater?) and makeup- for others here you should get out more in your school/college (gardening clubs or outdoor volunteer work would definitely benefit you), even if it’s just walking around your enviroment- wherever you walk you own, and you make yourself known…

I’m seriously feeling that so hard- AND SOME OF YOU DARE TO TURN A BLIND EYE TO YOUR OWN INNER SHINE. it's seriously beginning to bug me how you’re still staying in this insecure, bitter, fearful, energy, that is not yours but you continue to claim it!!! WTF. anyways, to those of you resonating with that- I’m being sooo fr, as soon as you kick those feelings to the curb (to be run over and killed 💅) and you fully allow yourself to bloom and allow the sun to shine on you- there will be buzzing. BUZZINGGGG🐝. put yourself out there and seriously just experiment with what it feels like to be with different social groups, don’t take it personally, expect nothing, just do it for your own self experimentation~ doesn’t that sound fun??? I'm getting the tingles just thinking about it~again with those spaces I talked about, no matter your feelings- wherever you walk you own. you belong because you know you belong in yourself. that’s your natural state and no matter how vicious some people were in seeing that in you, you still own that about you ☆ and it is your choice to use that divine gift given to you. please trust and believe when I say that once you step into that inner, pure, state of being- you will be divinely protected, any ◉ attacks are small potatoes and will be diced.

ANYWAYS WOOO- ummm all those spaces that I mentioned are fully open to you, and are definitely where you’ll meet your tribe- again, I’m seeing your “tribe” will more so be you being you and coming in and receiving a lot of admiration- people will just love to talk to you as soon as you come in (I’m seeing especially for the queer/fashion/creative group people coming up to you with armfuls of clothing joyfully wanting your opinion I loveee this for you)- I’m speaking about the future mainly to my more underdeveloped group of this pile, but let me jump into the future which is the place some of you are very much stepping into rn!!!- you’re having people crossing their legs in club booths to fit more people into your get to together- BAHHA- people want to be close to you, catch up, ask where you’ve been traveling to or what you’re wearing- and you’re finally soaking it all up and sitting so relaxed, your smile is dazzling and you’re taking a nice breath in and out as all of this healthily regulates your ego + your higher self.. this is honestly giving that if you weren’t the “queen bee” in your high school- you are now but in your 20s/30s/40s/etc!! and you’re handling it amazingly well, because you still choose to go home solo most nights still high and happy ♡ I love this for you. you also get asked to be the leader or placed as the head of a lot of different projects- it’s more so you oversee them and everyone works around you- the thing is, that you don’t let all this go to your head because you’ve already grounded your self-worth- and because of that attitude, people then want you around even more. when you come in, people want you in your group for the day/hour/20 minutes before another group wants you lol.

you’re fabulous ok? it’s more than fine to be that, it’s divine ♡! soo many people are going to feel like the moth to your flame, it’s already been destined to happen literally😵💫!!!! just keep a watch out for the ones taking too much from you or being up and down with their give-and-take from you, because you deserve someone/people around you who stay hot for you and fan your bright flame while enjoying its warmth (unless they need their own personal space- ppl are ppl, not npcs lol)… I guess I should just briefly state before I finish your reading- the chorus of Casual by Chappell Roan was replaying through your whole reading- I’m not saying this as a cop-out, you have people stopping and, in fact, falling to their knees when they’re in your energy. I see one or two people who are already a part of your larger group environment being very infatuated with you (and I’d definitely keep your eye on them and remain open to this possibility- for some of you this special someone is in your group setting is so pure in their affection towards you and could,, be the one. I'm dead serious about that- but also HEHHEHHEHE💞- oh how I love-love♡),- but I’m mainly seeing a lot of first dates for you guys as you continue to get out there, and that is far from a bad thing because- who wouldn’t want a change at even just one date with you??? (take rejection as non-personal ofc- ppl have free will- and stupidity) and also you get the chance to see how you adapt and interact with new people which is terrific for you!! mannn do I see you getting accepted and taken out by so many people, assholes included but also a lot of “gentlemen”/“babes” who will gladly treat you extremely well and or will be pulling all the charm and fun within them for you- even if they know it’s just one night with you… I’ll just say, you do attract people who want to serve you… on their knees definitely-

AND THAT IS WHERE I WILL LEAVE ITTTTT FOR NOWWW- I’m so so soooo happy to have had you all here todayyyy your life is seriously going to keep going up-up and away if you’ll just allow yourself to see that steady climb and trust it <3 I seriously love youuuu I almost don’t want you to leaveee just like how everyone else feels BAHHA- love you.~

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out is it casual now- two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in Long Beach is it casual now” - “it’s hard being casual when i’m on the phone talking down your sister”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ "This is how to be a heartbreaker- boys they like a little danger" - "singing I lo-lo-love you"

⋆ ˖✮pile 2✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Ten of Pentacles (reversed), Ace of Pentacles, Nine of Cups, Queen of Cups, Six of Swords (reversed) (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Aquarius/Gemini/Libra placements, Capricorn/earth placements, Mercury dominant, Saturn dominant, 2nd house placements black lace, black on black, cinnamon, The Spice Girls, The Cheeta Girls, H2O, 2000s nostalgia, high school reunions, ex-friendship rebirth, stand up, saturday night bars, life path number 11, angel numbers 1111, 1212, 1313, 1221, channeled songs, Party for One - Carly Rae Jepsen, Heat Waves - Glass Animals

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ You guys are funny- just gonna say it off the bat I’m feeling silly with you rn ngl BAHHAHHAhehe- ok um HI PILE 2S!! I shouldn’t yell- let me not yell- some of you are coming from pile 1,, heyyy pile 1s~ ouw~ ok ok, you smiling could light up a room, a house, a complex, a broken oven. AHAHAH- what beautiful teeth and lips you have there- pile 2s. I’m seeing, so many different teeth and lip shapes before you come for me- straight, crooked, vener-white, “needs-a-cleaning” off-white, upside down smiles, nonsymmetrical dimples, big lips, small lips, uneven lips, scarred lips- you get it, I don’t give a shit. when you smile and give that big cackle, chuckle, chortle- you do what you do with joy- and people believe in jesus. people believe that pigs really do have wings. people believe that the sun must shine from your ass. truly. I mean truly. I’m sitting here with my fingers together like- hm. yes. how do I write this all- with a straight face without being sardonic… sardonic? do you guys read? I think you read. now I’m hearing “you thought you ate that-“ that meme, I know that you know it- let me stop. for-… 5 minutes… so we would probably connect really well- which is why I am all over the place, because you are also all over the place (yes I am shading you. respectfully.) someone here does really good impressions, including animals… whatever that means…- BAHAH, you guys would do great in stand up of some kind, either that or you’re known as the funny co-worker. you guys have this range when it comes to your sense of humor, where it is either very dry, with the most composed pauses (when I manage to do that without bursting into your own laughter), and or you guys are so fast like- the editing of a youtube video fast with the jokes- and or a mixture of the two where you’re able to pull off very intricate jokes very quickly in the moment. and jeeze people find you so charming, even more so because of the way you look as well, it’s almost weirdly uncanny to some people how someone with the level of physical attractiveness that you carry (it’s so heavy and so much I know it’s so hard✨) and you then can pull off such- hilarity. and they're like- “…do they know they could be a model??? like- are they aware?? are they using this comedy because they don’t see that about themselves??”… it’s giving “i didn’t know women could be funny” (goes for nb/men too ofc)…

wow- kill them with a spoon 🥄- anyways WOW. so I think you may have, a lot of perceptions of you by people around you who haven’t known you for very long, mainly revolving around your looks- yes your looks. your modesty is attractive but it won’t fly in this courtroom👩‍⚖️- you are attractive in some way, or have an appearance that people definitely admire- but also scrutinize, or underestimate… you definitely get belittled. ok- that sucks- point them out to me?… yea I thought so they are so ew. I don’t care if that person is your mother, your father, or your co-workers who’ve been working at the place for 5 years longer than you- they are ew. anyone who puts you down due to their own pre-made perception of you is ew. ick even. yea, I’m seeing the issue here is not like most other piles I read for where it’s a growth journey with self and insecurity- no you’re good rn you’re like totally chilling. and I love that because I’m chill now, I’m dipping my tea bag up and down and sitting with you I’m so chill. but I had to look into anything going on because- drama, keeps you reading. so main issue I’m exposing is that there are people around you, in your space, a space you “have” to be in like work or even college classes I’m hearing- most people around you mind their own business, good on them, I love them- other people… they dress you up as something in their mind for their own- amusement?? or to feel a sense of having an eagle eye over “you”- and I say “you” in quotations because wtf- they do this… so as to spice up their own boring life? this is a weird form of admiration, because even if it’s a shitty thing to see you as, with them placing you so strongly in this box- they’ve placed you also on this pedestal… that’s probably why even with this obvious bullshit you’re still just chilling- because you know that if someone has built this all up to be who you are- it means you’re the best. and they’re the lowest. the end. anyway my back hurts- someone here likes podcasts, I’m seeing the The Broski Report podcast (broski nation✊) and also Murder, Mystery, & Makeup- again you guys really just chill, drink a bit of wine and entertain yourself.- so let me move onnn and see what transformations might be gearing up in your social life hun~

ok so it’s not “crickets” happening in your social life, not at all- but again you guys are just so, content and used to yourselves (this is my pile who talks to themselves in the mirror I see you)- when I asked yall if you felt lonely I literally drew a blank. and this is actually perfect because it’s seriously when you’re not looking/expecting and you're all good with what you have that you get given so much- so this is where I’m going to remind you all to actively meditate on keeping yourself open. don’t expect anything, just stay open and ponder what you’d like- and you’ll receive. that’s literally it. you’re in prime manifesting energy with how content and at peace you are in yourself- do you know how much you attract when you do that shit???? remain. open. and. aware. of anything that may happen, even if someone trips in front of you and you gain a brief interaction or someone asks you where to find extra office supplies and you show them the supply closet- see your abundance, allow it, remain without expectations. you are literally in the perfect energy for so much. You guys are definitely the type however to be really fine with only a few close friends you can have some fun with (and or have a nervous breakdown with) and some family… but I think this contentment you have with yourself, might have come from you feeling- misunderstood in your sense of humor or self-expression. I gotta say, you definitely handled that disappointment well, since instead of dulling yourself you just shine more inwardly for your own enjoyment and entertainment- and that’s wonderful! but I do gotta say- I know you can feel a bit, pent up. due to a lot of your big personality being fitted within you, and that’s fantastic truly- but also it has the same effect of being stuck in your house alone for one week too long. maybe that’s why you read when you can- you get to be in a very expansive and wide world that feels different from your own… oh god did I make you yearn???? oops I’m sorry. anyways!!

you’d really thrive in some environment that feels more- “widespread” I suppose, that doesn’t mean cracking yourself open to a room of strangers, I mean just sharing yourself- still from a place of your own entertainment- what I mean is that it’d be really healthy for you to find an outlet for the pent up jitters you get- find it online if you want to try that, try little baby steps, why not?- go on one-time dates just to release a bit of what you keep inside you- interact with random people sitting next to you at bars,- no attachments, just feel out what you feel when you let your inward personality, be more outward- on a lease 🐩. I’m hearing some of you may be a little fearful of attachment even, work that out- that doesn’t mean you’ll then sacrifice your peace, you’ll just gain a wider world for yourself by gaining new connections- and obviously, with the personality and personhood that you have- you can totally just pick and choose who gets to be a part of that world and your time! you owe nothing to anyone. do you have any actual clue how many people are out there, whose perception of you is not just what they observe, but what you actually are? and their perception of you actually helps you and is used to contribute to your happiness and peace??? yea. having actual friends is freaking great. and the more you simply open yourself up to that- while staying aware and choosing who you want- that is going to be the big door that’ll be opened to you- you’ll receive so many amazing experiences and will shift and broaden your world and the worlds of others, you’ll be like a big tree, growing it’s roots around other trees- isn’t that soooo cute??? ok I’m trying to see into the future details in regards to you finding your “tribe”- spirit is honestly wanting things to be vague, so as you can remain open without any expectations. kk? I mean what I mentioned with the earlier situations gives you the clues to follow if you so choose- just be youuuu. you have more opportunities than you realize and you got all the answers to what to do within you. trust me when I say you’ll be running down the street in weird clothes and pearls, scream laughing out of breath with two girls who love you… that’s for someone here and it also applies to everyone here~

okkk pile 2s, it was stimulating being with you I’m nearly sick❤️ BAHAH anyways, in regards to any avoidant/anxious-avoidant attachment issues, just remember that heartbreak sucks, but heartbreak always just makes you hotter, and funnier. you prove that- that outcome is very real every day you exist as yourself… OKKK love you byeee❤️♡

deadass as I channeled this song, I was questioning if it was correct- and I look up to see one of your angel numbers 1212 on the clock- and then again 1221 as I type this lolll

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Once upon a time I thought you wanted me was there no one else to kiss- was it all a dream I let myself believe, I’m not over this, but I’m trying” - “party for one, if you don’t care about me, I’ll just dance with myself, back on my beat- I’ll be the one, if you don’t care about me, making love to myself, back on my beat”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “Sometimes all I think about is you- late nights in the middle of June, heat waves been fakin’ me out, can’t make you happier now”

⋆ ˖✮pile 3✮˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮ ˖ ⋆

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Page of Swords (reversed), Seven of Cups, Six of Cups (reversed), The High Priestess (reversed), The Moon (bottom of deck)

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Cancer/Pisces/Scorpio placements, Libra/air placements, Leo/fire Placements, 5th house placements (Venus, Mars, Jupitar, Rising, etc), inner child, old friendships, childhood renewal, 1111, 333, 444, Only Yesterday (1991), horses, channeled songs, Wildflowers and Wild Horses - Lainey Wilson, Cheap Queen - King Princess

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ Ok- Hi my pile 3s! and also my pile 2s because some of yall did not leave yet and have stayed for the next reading- like seriously this whole pac is connected rn- also happy 1111 as I write this!!! um oh my gosh let me start- you are so beautiful, yes I said it for the 3rd time in this pac post why are you on my ass‼️- its so true, you all have this classic beauty, it is timeless- you are timeless- or from a different time in your aura, your beauty, how you carry yourself in this world- etc etc… and when I say “different time” I don’t just mean you embody this feminine/masculine balance straight out of the 1970s, 40s, 50s, 20s,- and all the other time periods before/after I just mentioned- I also mean you still carry with you the time you had as a young child, you carry with you the sunshine you felt on your skin when you were 3-6 yo, and the snow you felt on your hands when you were 8-11… you have kept this purity and innocence and grown with it- and holy cow do I need to congratulate you and the strength of your spirit- so often we are forced to “leave behind” our childhood years and perspective due to difficult events or what people expect of you while you reside in this worldly- world. -which really that just means internalizing and hiding away in the closet the purest state of yourself (*also this is my more queer-centric pile so hellooo my fellow queer community ✨☀️)- this is putting a hole in my own heart being in how free and high spirited you are, and how you fully embody that and always have ☀️. you have kept that warmed and soaked up the same sunshine as you did all those years ago- it might not even feel like years to you, it feels like only yesterday your childhood was your state of being and all around you- and now, you are a bit bigger but you may live in this state that no time has passed- does that make sense?? ugh dude I hope so, your energy is like the sunshine, in that, I can’t reach out and physically be in your presence- but more so I’m trying to sit in your light while my vision gets spotty and I get a little dizzy… as in- you guys are out of this worlddd💫!!! you might even be told by your family or your peers that you tend to make them “dizzy” with how you communicate- you may be the type to jump from one topic to another, while you fold your laundry- and tidy your desk drawers- and walk into another room *backward* because you are still talking and describing a detail that is “important” to the story you were recounting 10 minutes ago- you sweet thing!!!! this is adorable to be in,, if anyone’s ever made you feel bad about how you communicate, do not take it personally- its always good karma to be considerate of other’s sensitivities, but everything you do is so pure hearted- it would be so phony and ridiculous to believe any crap people say about you to be truthful. your energy is so pure and truly yours, this is your sign and confirmation to continue to not live for the external views of others and live life through your own view ☀️. Oh- i keep getting horse imagery- horses may be significant for some of you, it may be your spirit animal or a spirit guide that is close to you may take the energetic appearance of a horse (in particular for some of you it’s a very strong and matured brown colored horse of some breed), or some of you grew up around horses in some way!

Oh this is random but you may be the type to enjoy having your playlists on shuffle lol- because I just suddenly began mentally playing Cheap Queen by King Princess- so this is definitely where I will now channel the dets about your social environment my dear~!! ok sooo- I’m seeing various different types of family dymanics, big families, med sized families, even 2 person families (you + a guardian)- I sense that you have close family ties, and i know family can be complex, so let me state some variouions of what that means- you may have a close familiarity to your family’s home or yard (maybe even your neighborhood area), such as knowing every little creak that your house makes when you go to the kitchen to get a morning cup of water, I’m seeing for some of you- you are very tied to your sibling dymamic if you have siblings (I accidently wrote in all caps at first and I scared myself lol- so you may come from a family where loudness is common part of the jokes you share), or maybe even kids you knew in your neighborhood if you played with them often- things like that have stuck with you inrelation to what you look for in anykind of companionship, a sense of familiarity~ this is def the pile who believes in being drawn to your soulmate(s) or past life connections lol~ so while you have that grounded energy in wanting stablity, you also are an entertainer and you know how to have a good time!! as you should since you totally fly like a fabulous canary from room to room- you should feel more confident when you dance btw, put more energy into your shoulders with joy because the way you move literally energizes people-

now I’m getting messages on how you connect to your inner child, I’ve said before you already naturally embody your inner child (“just in a bigger body” I’m hearing- some of you may have had a big physical growth spirut as a child btw), but some messages in regards to connecting to your inner child for those of you who need some answers is to engage in more activities that return yourself to a past peaceful enviroment, this is also for those who had a more chaotic upbringing and had to turn inwardly for peace ❤️- taste is a really important sense for you returning to that younger state of peace, so certain candies (I’m hearing those fruit rollups I love those still) or fruits, snacks- simple dishes that made younger you excited and brought you joy- also I’m hearing something about sleepovers and evening activities/coziness~ so grab some blankets and make an event of staying up late if you already do that lol- anyways!! let me get back to how fun you truly are to be around my dear, I mean, seriously! If you have the opportunity go out when you can, if you already have a friend or someone familiar go to a house party nearby (keep yourselves safe!), try rollerskating if you haven’t, and get closer to someone you already know and show your colors- DRESS UP!!!! I know life can be bleak especially when you feel that life is very "closed off" and dead lol- but when I tell you the phrase “dress for the life you want”- I mean ittt~ it will align you with the environment that you desire and it will come to you so naturally (in the same way you making a coffee and taking your dog for a walk is a natural occurrence in your life!)- I’m hearing that the connections that you already have in your life are “all you need”, and by that I mean you can build off of those and shoot farther into the sky full of stars meant for you 💫. I’m hearing the quote about drawing back your arrow before you can shoot forward- if you’re feeling stuck right now, this is what I’m trying to tell you, blossom exactly where you are right now, and everything else will simply follow!!! and I know that takes courage but I KNOW you have it because it was child you’s courage that got you to this future you are currently in~ and when you start to embody their courage along with their light, I know it will be the turning point to creating the life you were always dreaming and painting in your mind~ I’m seeing bright neon lights, holding hands and toothy-laughing grins, your clothes looking exactly how you pictured months ago- this is what I see happening in the future!! please stay open to some of the connections you already have- renew them is what I’m hearing (but please follow your intuition, if you need to cut everyone except for one or two true connections then that is the right thing for you to do)- if these are people who you knew when you were a lot younger then bond on the older times and use that energy to renew into more new memories,- these older connections you have you could definitely collaborate with to mutually make new connections and go towards new experiences- I’m hearing maybe even to “get out of this town”... phew pile 3!!!! what a way to end this pac, so happy to have met you and I feel like I took a nap in the sun- I’m really on some hazy ish rn lolll but I really hope I was helpful in any questions or worries on your beautiful mind~ I LOVE YOUUU so much, you better keep on shining- even if that’s just in front of your mirror, that’s perfect and valid ☀️👏

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “I'm five generations of blazin' a trail- through barb-wired valleys and overgrown dells- I'm barefoot and bareback and born tough as nails” - “I push like a daisy through old sidewalk cracks” - “yeah, my kinda crazy's still runnin' its courses with wildflowers and wild horses”

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️ “I've been alright, I’ve just been doing the same shit I've always liked- like smoking and movies and homies who bring me wine” - “-all of my girls get up early and stay out late- they drive all the way to the west side to see my face- that's good love- and I ain't no big baller when it's fake friends you're callin’”

⋆ ˖

✮

⋆ ˖ ✮🖋️am I actually going to (*schedule to*) post this omg it feels like forever since i did this.. where was i even? whatever- its whatever- holy shit I'm putting myself out there!!!! praise be!!!! omg I'm going to get one extra hour of sleep as a treat🍰

love, vi~♡

[toxycodone]

hey so what if. curly thought that his favourite crewmate was at least a little experienced and then found out that they actually haven't even kissed before. like maybe if he overheard daisuke making fun of them for it. what then 👁️

ship. captain grant mccurley x reader

content. power imbalance, curly calls you kiddo but you aren’t his kid

“You’ve really never kissed anyone before?”

This was not the type of late night conversation you expected to be having with your fucking boss, but alas, the stars aligned and hexed you stupid, it seems. Curly’s blue eyes practically glow despite the dim lighting in the common room, peering at you with gentle amusement.

You shift in your seat. Suddenly the couch isn’t comfortable anymore.

“No…being on hauls back to back doesn’t give me much time to date and stuff…”

You answer, scrambling for any sort of excuse. It’s genuinely embarrassing. Why has someone your age never kissed anyone yet? Ridiculous. Now Curly probably really thinks you’re some fucking kid.

“I know, it’s weird. Daisuke already made fun of me enough, so please…just drop it.”

The blonde chuckles—deep and gravely as it rolls in his chest. He’s an insomniac, but he still gets that sexy ‘just woke up’ tone this late in the evening.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. It’s cute, really. Someone your age still being so pure…that’s rare.”

That familiar feeling of heat starts to burn your cheeks. Oh God. It’s not just from embarrassment anymore. Curly finding it cute…it makes you wanna explode.

“Seriously? You don’t think I’m, like, weird?”

Of course he wouldn’t. Curly’s your captain. Confidant. Friend. At least that’s what he’s made himself out to be. This pseudo-fatherly figure that you can always rely on. The one that’s there for you. Takes care of you.

He shakes his head.

“Not at all.”

His hand’s on your knee.

“Were you waiting for someone special? I mean, a first kiss is a big milestone,”

It’s moving up your thigh. You don’t question it. It’s Curly. He can touch you like this. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s comforting you.

You consider his question. Were you waiting for someone special? Or had you been so consumed in work you just never had the time to grow outside of pursuing your career? It’s probably a mix of both. Curly’s been at this job for over a decade, yet he’s definitely managed to kiss a plethora of people. And with a body like that, you bet he even has quite a few notches on his bedpost too.

Would he want to add another?

That thought’s admonished when he gives the fat of your thigh a squeeze. You swallow, but your throat’s dry.

“I mean…I guess.” His gaze pierces through you, causing a shiver to run down your spine. The boring screen full of stars is now quite interesting.

“I just, I don’t know, I—“

“I can show you how to kiss.” It’s offered as casually as a handshake. “So you know what to do when you find the right one.”

This isn’t something a captain should offer his subordinate. Nevertheless, one that affectionately refers to you as kiddo. You’ve called him dad before, either on accident or on purpose—that you aren’t sure. There’s layers of nuance to this situation that makes it inherently wrong. But it’s dangled in front of you like a treat.

“Really…?”

Obedient as ever, you take it despite the risks.

Aren’t you well trained?

But what else is he for? If not to teach you, his favorite crewmate, his sweet little kiddo, everything they need to know to succeed?

“Of course.” The hint of Southern drawl in his sultry tone is enough to rid your inhibitions. You’re drawn to the soft, pink curve of his lip as he leans forward. Your chin’s gently cradled by his index finger and thumb, the callouses on them now hyperaware to your senses.

“It’s easy.” His eyes lock on yours. “You just close your eyes, then pucker your lips.”

You try to follow these instructions, prompting a laugh from Curly.

“Cute. But try to relax, okay?”

It’s hard. You feel his breath on your lips, and it makes you shake like a leaf. He’s so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off his body.

Curly’s lips touch yours. It’s soft. For such a large, imposing man, the kiss is chaste and sweet. There’s so much care put into the gesture, a testament to Curly’s personality. A shock runs through you, but you find yourself easing into the kiss and relaxing.

His other hand, the one not perched on your thigh and kneading the flesh, moves to cradle the back of your head. This feels like a fantasy. How you’d imagine a leading man would kiss the object of his desire. So much passion exists in such a tiny gesture, your heart feels like it’s going to pop in your chest.

And then, it’s over. When his body moves from yours, you still feel in a daze. Your heavy eyelids open slowly to be met with Curly’s half-lidded ones. He’s close enough you could count his golden lashes if you wanted.

“See? Nothin’ to it, right?”

Curly’s beaming. And even more obnoxiously, the simulated moonlight is highlighting his masculine features in all the right areas. You’re starting to feel dizzy.

Curly’s thumb graces your bottom lip.

“With a little more practice, you’re sure to be a natural.”

How could you say no?

[senseofnewness]

bf!patrick zweig because i need some sertraline serotonin in my life

• patrick "my girl this, my girl that" zweig

• you fucked on the first date in his car but tbh the stars were aligned that night

• pda everywhere, from arm around your shoulder to tongue drown your throat, he doesn't care

• doesn't introduce you to art until he knows you're the one but art already knows everything about your life when he finally does

• when someone tells him a secret, they should know "i promise i won't tell anyone" means he will tell you right away

• doesn't care whether you're on your period or not, sex is sex

• always sending you "what are you wearing" so you think he's horny but he just wants to colour match his outfit with yours (and he is really horny sometimes)

• when he talks about the future with you, he always mentions the dog you will adopt together even though you never said yes, it already has a name

• you're the only one who knows about that summer he got chlamydia, not even art knows about it

• always calls you before his matches if you can't come

• your grandma loves him more than she loves you because he always praises her cooking

• always tells trashy sex jokes that make you roll your eyes

• only wears the perfumes and the deodorants you like

• forces you to watch the dumbest action movies

• sometimes during sex he fantasizes about breeding you because you're so adorable and he wants a little you but then he remembers the offspring will have half his genes and that makes him go soft

• has hundreds of pictures of your boobs saved on his phone in a folder named "tits"

• can't cook, except for one greasy cheesy pasta recipe and it became your comfort food

• always buys you the most random souvenirs from the places he has competitions in, like fridge magnets or keychains

• he says he loves you for the first time during sex but he really means it

[bucketbueckers]

LAYUPS & LAYOVERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 2.9k content warnings: language, fluff, author is southern and doesn't understand how snow or marketing works, plot where there doesn’t need to be plot synopsis: It’s Christmas Eve and you’re in Connecticut, exhausted and just trying to get to Minnesota for a work conference. You could cry when it’s announced that all flights are being halted due to the incoming blizzard. Irritated, tired, and overworked, you pray for a miracle, although it takes an unnatural shape in the form of a six foot blonde athlete who’s just trying to make it home, too. Late night airport conversations lead to something more. notes: merry christmas eve from my delusions to yours! the last chapter of irp was super heavy so here's my apology and christmas gift (do i drop another one tmr...i really dont wanna write chapter 8 😩). i hope you all enjoy this short n sweet lil ramble i threw together and happy holidays 🫶

This can not be your life right now.

It’s actually kind of impressive how all of the stars aligned on this one particular night to fuck you over. You’re not a terrible person. You hold the doors for everyone, give up your seat on the bus for sweet old ladies, and you always allocate a portion of your paychecks to donate to Wikipedia. By all accounts, you should be overwhelmed with good karma, although it seems your luck has depleted on this night and this night alone.

It all started on the 20th when you flew out to Connecticut. You work a cushy job as a marketing consultant for the WNBA, which means you spend a lot of time in the air and across the country trying to unfuck – sorry, trying to optimize and rejuvenate – the state of the league and its teams. It’s a task easier said than done. Nobody seems to want to listen to you until they realize that your master’s degrees in marketing and business analytics actually mean something and aren’t just really expensive pieces of paper that you hang in your office. You spend a couple of days in Uncasville talking strategies to boost ticket sales and to gain more traction; they’re the only professional team the state has – it should not be hard to get people to show up if you can market it right, but here you are.

Connecticut is nearly a bust. It’s cold and you spend two full days in meetings getting talked over by men who think they understand numbers and branding. Then, on the third day, the front office suddenly realizes what you’ve been talking about (this shit was covered in your sophomore year intro to marketing class, but hey, the less people know, the more you get paid, so who’s really complaining?) and the trajectory of your trip makes a sudden turnaround. On the 23rd and early on the 24th, you help the Sun roll out the new optimizations, and what do you know? Ticket sales surge by 17%, including some season tickets, all is well in the world and it’s a goddamn Christmas miracle.

Then, all is suddenly not well and you remember that Christmas miracles are for people not surrounded by idiots. Your boss emails you just before you leave for the airport: The Lynx need your help. I’ve sent you tickets for the first flight out of Connecticut. Meet with them on the 26th. Said “flight” departs from Connecticut at 8:30pm on Christmas Eve, which means you’re not even in Minnesota until 12am if you’re lucky, which means you have to figure out hotel arrangements so you can take a nap because you’ve barely slept in five days, which means you have to figure out how to be nice to people again because the Sun front office has you pissed all the way the fuck off.

So, you’re tired, overworked, extremely irritated, and hungry, although that last problem is solved by airport Subway. You just hope that doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, either – you firmly believed that you were better off betting all of your money on black rather than taking the chance on airport food, but you didn’t have much of a choice and your stomach was growling. You eat, settling in a chair at your gate, and patiently await for your plane to arrive.

Then, the overhead PA clicks on with some static noise, announcing, “Flight 932 to Minneapolis and all other flights exiting Hartford will be delayed due to inclement weather. I repeat–”

The blood rushes to your head. Your eye twitches. There’s a crying baby somewhere in the airport and you can’t take it anymore. Honestly, what’s stopping you? Flying a plane cannot be that difficult. You’re pretty persuasive. You can tell TSA you’re just young for a pilot and you’re not wearing a pilot’s uniform because it’s Christmas Eve and what are you, the feds? All you’re really asking for at this point is a nap but there’s no way in hell you’re making it to a hotel in these conditions and the chances of you sleeping in an airport with all of your belongings out for someone to grab are even lower.

A commotion towards the check in counter commands your attention. You turn, dreading the eventual crash out of an airport Karen, but it’s better than the crying baby who still hasn’t shut the fuck up.

“Please, there’s gotta be something else you can do,” a tall, broad-shouldered blonde is begging, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. “It’s Christmas Eve, I have to get home.”

The lady at the check in counter sounds sympathetic when she responds. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our hands are tied. We can’t send our planes out in this weather, but if it eases up, the next flight out should have you arriving in Minneapolis by tomorrow afternoon.”

You hear the blonde groan, her tone sounding something like, I can’t fucking believe this is my life, which is a sentiment you whole-heartedly agree with. “Can you please lemme know if there’s anything earlier?” she pleads. “Like, if by the grace of God this weather clears and we can leave sooner.”

“Of course, ma’am. All updates will be announced.”

The response is almost robotical, but you can tell the receptionist is trying her best, too, and the last place she wants to be is hanging out at the airport on Christmas Eve. The blonde sighs, thanking her, and from the corner of your eye, you watch her hike her bag up over her shoulder and she moves to sit directly in front of you. That’s when you truly get a good look at her, at the dejected blue of her eyes, the chisel of her jaw, the logo on her hoodie. Paige Bueckers is no stranger to you. You grew up watching ball, so obviously you’re familiar with her game – any self-respecting basketball fan is. But by virtue of your job, Paige Bueckers is a name that makes your marketing heart beat just a little faster. Ever since Dallas won the lottery, you’ve been all over their marketing team. Paige’s entire existence and the chance she gets drafted to Dallas is the sole reason the Wings’ tickets are flying off the shelves. She’s the most marketable college athlete there is right now, one of the top rookie prospects for the league, but one look at her face in person and you’re forgetting all about your job. Her jaw is tight with a simmering anger, and honestly, you feel terrible for her – she already spends so much time away from her family and here she is trying to get out of Bumfuck, Connecticut, so she can be home in time for Christmas.

You find a little bit of bravery when you raise your voice slightly to ask her, “No luck?”

She looks up, glancing at you and taking in your features, and laughing slightly when she realizes you’re genuinely just trying to make conversation and not trying to get a soundbite out of her. “You heard that?” she asks sheepishly, sinking a little in her seat to get comfortable. You pretend to not notice her manspread.

“Well,” you begin, glancing over at the receptionist. “The desk is like, ten feet away.” She laughs again and nods, murmuring touche under her breath. “932 Minneapolis?” you ask, referring to your flight.

Paige nods again, quirking a smile. “You stalking me or sum’?”

You shrug your shoulders, a coy smile on your face. “Just observant,” you quip.

Paige grins fully. “What about you?” she asks. “You work for the league?”

At that, you can’t help your surprise, raising a brow. “How’d you know that?”

“Just observant,” she throws your words back at you. You laugh. “Kidding. I see your ID pokin’ out of your bag. You from here, or they got you workin’ on the holidays?”

“Work,” you respond. Paige whistles lowly. “I’m a marketing consultant. Been up here for a few days working with the Sun, then I’m heading to Minnesota to fix the Lynx’s bullshit.” You blink, registering your words, blushing as Paige laughs. “You did not hear that. I’m usually nicer to my employers.”

“They got you workin’ and flyin’ out on Christmas Eve,” Paige points out. “You should be meaner.”

You incline your head in a nod, huffing. “All of this for office potlucks and dental coverage,” you joke. “Don’t quit basketball.” Paige grins again and you’re suddenly reminded of your manners. “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself.” You do as such, only mildly surprised when she stands to shake your hand and introduces herself, too, which is honestly kind of endearing. Then, she plops into the empty seat next to yours, smiling widely.

“So, marketing consultant,” she says, her tone nonchalant as she gets comfortable next to you, extending her long legs across her suitcase. “How often will I get to see you?”

You glance at her, raising a wry eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me?” you ask.

Paige shrugs a shoulder, smirking. “A little. Is it working?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit. You can see the pride that shines in her eyes. You roll your eyes in amusement, still in slight disbelief, but you redirect back to her question. “Honestly, probably a lot. The league is super messy from a business perspective and their actual marketing sphere isn’t that great, either. As soon as you get drafted I’ll probably have to fly down to whichever poverty team you land at and teach them how to market you.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and despite the tease in her tone, she does seem interested. “How would you market me?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Well…” Paige glances down to her watch, then out the windows where snow falls in heavy sheets. “Looks like a lot.”

You snicker. “Alright. Bear with me, okay?” Paige nods in earnest, her attention fully on you as you begin to ramble. Truthfully, you did like your job when you were able to do it. The issue is and always will be the idiots you have to work with who overlook your credentials. “So, I’m not thinking about your personal brand at all. Like, that one’s already incredible. Your PR team did their big one with you. But the issue with athletes like you, wide-eyed and fresh out of college with an insane resume of endorsements, followers, deals, whatever – the issue is that whatever team you get drafted to is gonna want to rebuild their entire image around you. Think Clark, Brink, Reese, Jackson, Cardoso. It’s textbook – you advertise the person who’s gonna get you the most clicks, the most sales. So, how can we use that to actually grow the game, the league? I’m talking about longevity. There’s so many people tuning in for you that don’t know shit about basketball, and honestly, they’re gonna be scared to ask questions.

“So we push something corny. Social media segments with a catchy name like Ball With Bueckers or some shit where you break down basketball plays, rules, the stuff you’re gonna see and hear when you watch a game. What’s a pick and roll? A screen? Why is she getting fouled for blocking that shot, isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Education, interest, loyalty, and competition sells. Stories sell, too, which is why the league is still trying to push the Clark/Reese rivalry. That’s old news, though. A more compelling story would have been the Fever/Sun rivalry, especially after the Sun beat the Fever and the Fever hired their coach. Or Fever/Wings, for reasons I’m not gonna ruin your night with.” Paige laughs at that, and you smile, clearing your throat and trying to find your train of thought. “So, when I’m undoubtedly called in to fix your team’s mess, that’s what I’d be suggesting. People already love you. Using that connection to get them to love ball, too, is my goal.”

“You’re really passionate about this,” Paige comments, her lips quirking into a slight smile. You can’t help but preen a little, flushing. “Like, about basketball. You really care about the sport. Feels like that’s harder to find lately.”

“Well, I was too short to play it, so gotta settle for something, right?” you joke.

Paige looks you up and down. You’re wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt from college, but her gaze is shameless, appreciative despite your casual airport wear. She chuckles, a disbelieving noise building in the back of her throat. “Nah. You’re what, 6’5?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Try a foot less. But I appreciate you for believing in me.”

Paige smiles, nudging you a little. “I was serious, though. You’re super passionate. I like that.”

“Still flirting?”

“S’not everyday you get snowed in at the airport with a pretty girl,” Paige says, her gaze warm, and you can’t help but blush again. “Gotta shoot my shot, you know?” She mimes throwing a ball, her wrist bent, and you shake your head fondly. Admittedly, she did have you – hook, line, and sinker. You enjoyed the conversation, her company. There were certainly worse people to be stuck with, but you’re glad it was with her.

You shrug your shoulders. “Shoot away,” you say. Her subsequent grin is wide and you find yourself drawn in just a little further.

She asks you virtually everything under the sun – where you grew up, where you went to college, the team you were rooting for, and you answer. You tell her you’re an Atlanta native, born and raised, although you moved up north to study at Columbia. You were 8 when the Dream was founded and that was your team, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. At 10, you watched them win the eastern conference finals on your birthday and that was easily the moment your life changed. Basketball was your future and that much was certain. She asks how you landed the league job (connections, a thick resume, and lots of persuading), how you adjusted to the constant traveling (lots of caffeine and really good concealer), and the hard-hitting question of, are you satisfied?

For that, you really had no answer. Sure, you’re always busy, and that’s better than the alternative of sitting in your office and watching the seconds tick by. You’re good at what you do and your job makes a positive impact on the league. Your colleagues will be who they are; your work speaks for itself and that’s what you pride yourself on. But there’s always going to be a small part of you that yearns for something more, like someone else to share your life with. Someone who sits, and listens, and engages with you; someone who loves basketball just as much as you do (even if it’s a different type of love), someone who’s steady and spontaneous and adaptable.

Then Paige is smiling at you, her gaze warm and soft despite the below freezing temperatures outside; she’s listening, and engaging, steady, spontaneous, adaptable, and probably the only person in the world whose love for basketball could rival your own. You’ve known Paige for all of three hours and it’s nearing midnight in an airport in Connecticut, but it’s Christmas Eve and she feels so right. You would really like to see where this goes, and judging by the way her fingertips brush your knuckles, you think she might like to see that, too.

The two of you talk all through the night, waiting for the weather to ease up. The conversation never slows and you’re certain you’ve never smiled or laughed this much in a long time. It takes you twelve hours of delirious conversation to realize that your luck never depleted. Paige was your overwhelming karma, sent by some sort of Christmas miracle to answer all of the wishes you’d kept to yourself for years. The stars aligned not to fuck you over, but to trap you in an airport with Paige Bueckers, and you find that she’s possibly the best Christmas gift you could have ever gotten.

When the weather finally clears and your plane arrives, you find that your seats are right next to each other – and, well, fate works in funny ways, doesn’t it? You’re both exhausted, but when she lowers the armrest and wraps her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into your side, you can’t help your relieved sigh, leaning into her chest. You and Paige sleep through the entire flight. You dream of soft blue eyes, the lingering scent of her cologne, the promise of how this could last.

You land in Minneapolis and you eventually have to go your separate ways. The two of you exchange numbers, saying your goodbyes, although Paige doesn’t let you get anymore than three feet away from her before she’s catching you by the wrist and pulling you into her. Her hands are cold against your cheeks as she kisses you gently, something deep and lingering and a confirmation that tastes like ‘you and I aren’t done here.’ The falling snow lands gently on your cheeks, melting under the heat of your blush, and you can’t help your smile, interrupting your kiss as the both of you dissolve into laughter. Paige kisses you again, something softer that leaves you feeling warm all over despite the chill, and you thank your Christmas miracle for leading you here.

[robolvrr]

stars aligned. ☁️ ·̩͙✧

ultra magnus x reader drabble! warnings: nsfw. praise kink. mild bondage. slight voyeurism.

"you look stunning."

the titan near crumbles right then. you hear a noise you're certain none of the lost light, hell, galaxy even, has heard torn from his vocalizer, selfishly happy with the static edge that trembles with it.

he's a good listener, the loyal enforcer, because he doesn't even squirm no matter how loud his joints shift.

it's a divine miracle granted that rodimus didn't question your request of rooming with ultra magnus, under the premise of a work-related agreement. granted, some of the more rowdier crewmates suggested the obvious. efforts to keep your blossoming relationship under wraps were made long ago.

while there is little to pin rumors from in behavior - you'd share quiet looks across the hall, ultra magnus rarely raised his voice in your presence and never seemed to have issues with your data even with a spelling mistake (or four).. well. what good was a crew without gossip?

an unnamed engineer claims he's seen you nestled against ultra magnus's chassis. another chirps that his servos always glide along your back as if looking for something he had misplaced. whirl bets screws are loose and that you always have a limp to your gait - what else the source than the clear, animalistic fucking between you two?

no one listens to whirl. you shake the humor of accuracy before focusing back on your lover before he starts to twitch.

"say it, magnus." the mech whines. it should sound strange - it doesn't. you can tell when he resets his vocalizer, dizzy.

"i'm. i'm... i'm...!" large wrists twist, brief. you admire in silence, satin threatening to burst with his agony. this test of discipline the pair of you know he indulges, so the pristine bow stays in place - he groans under a roll of your hips, so much tinier than his, engines roaring to life.

"let it out, honey. you've been working so much lately."

magnus finally relents. "i'm. stunning." he could write pages and pages of how hypnotic your body looks, rocking against his rigid frame with expertise that'd put succubi to shame.

his faceplate is warm, biting back his shame because the lack of yours is just so nice to stare at. in fact, if he didn't know better, he'd say you were smug.

"say it again. you're stunning. you're beautiful. you're strong."

ultra takes the challenge in stride, noting his temperature inclines starting to ping him, adjusting cooling fans so as not to burn you.

he would never, never hurt you.

"i'm.. hagggh. please, my love, you're too-"

a wrong answer, for now. his pedes cannot spare the release of kicking. not when that same, titanium white silk is keeping the illusion of packaging.

"i don't want to hear anything, not even about me. tonight is all for you."

no human will ever share the strength to lift his tied servos, but he lets you anyways. gaze intense watching your lips drag to kiss the sides of them, tongue laving out to catch the ridges of a hefty digit.

"but i can't help it, darling. you squeeze me so much. you're so tight, hah. you're going to.. t-to-to.."

as much as his processors scream to undo his capture, it'd be a shame to ruin your pretty handiwork.

'pretty only because it's on you', previously moaned in his audials. before that cherry red grin goes to sipping your coffee and leaving him a joor just like this, to finish the analytic reports he had assigned you to finish.

"i'm stunning - frag. i'm stunning. i'm beautiful."

embarrassment collects thick at his core. he knows the underside of your legs must be painted pink by now. knows from the way you ride him faster that he's still being good, that you won't leave him high and dry and primus, he feels weak and -

"'m strong."

if weakness meant melting pitiful in you, under the addiction of flesh, he'll die and drift to the allspark blissful!

meanwhile, you're close to ecstasy. have been since he first introduced himself to the charming little analyst, simultaneously nervous and stiff. delighted to see even then he was trying not to wander, servos clenched.

on a first glance, annoyance. in reality? restraint.

"i love you."

ultra magnus curses. or it sounds so, a clutter of grinding gears and low vibrations you dazedly recognized as cybertronian. impish you isn't mean enough to ask for a translation.

"'m close. going to.. going to overload-"

"do so. fill me up, all of it, every drop. i want to walk with you dripping down my legs."

a laugh, sparkling and deep. "you're always so crude- ah!"

it's simply not realistic to hold all he offers. when you feel a familiar stretch and bulge your hips lift, still bucking the tip to ease him through the ferocious charge.

ultra magnus still can't believe how after the rumble of his frame ends you're still swift to tend to him. it's a nice feeling, watching you slowly undo his bondage, even rub your soft fingers along him as if they had caused any true damage.

a thick patch of fabric delicately dotes the seeping transfluid from his seams, sensitivity still gaining a groan or lilted sigh. determined as you are, he still scoops you up to glide closer to his dermas which you dutifully nip.

"stellar job as always, dear."

"mm. i will need.. a moment to recharge."

"just a moment?" a tittering laugh. "and here i thought you'd be ready for another round."

..

whirl eases from the habsuite hanger. if he had a jaw, or a face, or hell even a commlink that wasn't blocked by half the crew, he might have popped a circuit.

oh, he has a story to share and primus save whoever has to witness it.

robolvrr 2024

a/n: i am so helplessly in love with ultra magnus. take my offering. i feel like he needs a good roll in the bed and a bubble bath. whirl is not beating the humanfragger allegations.