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punkpandapatrixk · 2 months

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🍀Lady Luck on Your Side ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

There is no economic system that’s perfectly perfect. Whatever system you’re in, what’s wise to do is make the best out of all streams of possibilities viable within that system. Transcend above the stupidity and strike your Lucky 3 (Jupiter’s number LOL)🍄

In Astrology, the Lady Luck is represented by Mother Jupiter—the planet of expansion and good luck. The thing about luck, Love, is that you can’t plan around it. You can only prepare yourself and your resources the best you can and then gamble it all away. Gamble your fucking Life away at big endeavours that you know your Soul intends for you. Have faith in your divine abilities, bitch~🐞

If you fail, you learn!🐌

You are a Luck Magnet for as long as you believe in yourself. Be confident in that the essence of your beingness is enough for manifesting all you’re meant to see manifest in your lifetime🍀

Jupiter Sign: the psychology with which you philosophise shit

Jupiter House placement: areas of Life most blessed by the grace of Jupiter’s expansion

Planets in 9th House: indicate a need to expand beyond a simpleton mindset!!

‘The secret is not to chase the butterflies but to take care of your garden so they’ll come to you.’ – an old proverb

SONG: Baby Face by Sakamoto Maaya

MOVIE: Cruella (2021)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Patiently Revealing All Your Glorious Petals

lucky money (insights into lucky career opportunities) – Knight of Pentacles Rx

I’ve got to say your opportunities are the most unique here, and very likely quite challenging in that you must have patience. Lady Luck says that the path most suited to your lucky money involves your being a ghost. Hustling in secret, hiding your plans and spiritual truths from everybody else and treading very carefully on the way towards your goal. This could take many years! For many of you, this could be the loneliest path because nobody around you seems to understand your visions, or the intuitive nudges you know your Higher Self is directing you towards🛴

You were put in environments where most people don’t understand you (or they simply don’t share your visions) because your Higher Self intended for you to exercise navigating adversaries. This was part of your Soul’s scenario, you know. Stormy seas make the best sailors, kind of scenario. In that sense, you’ve been met with many uncomfortable situations, even dangerous and painful encounters and goodbyes to advance your evolution. Fear not, for you have not lost but gained valuable perspectives what will ensure good karma returning to you when you’re older🎆

For the majority of you reading this, your Jupiter will begin to really shine a light on your real lucky career path after you’ve graduated your first Saturn Return. Typically, by the time you’re between 29 and 33, things will get that much clearer and you’ll regain your motivation (if you’ve lost it at some point) and feel really glad you’ve made it thus far. The future accessible to you will begin to feel astonishingly clear and you will be excited but still need to work on that patience LMAO

lucky daily (ways to increase luck every day) – Page of Wands

Having said all of that, many of you reading this may feel quite frustrated at the idea that you’re only gonna get your successes at a later age. Especially if you’ve survived your first Saturn Return and you’re only beginning, you may have felt quite like a loser in comparison to these 20-somethings already achieving so much in Life… But, who’s to say all of that is gonna last? Sometimes, people gain a lot at a young age only to have all of that swept away by the time motherfucking Saturn returns to get them LOL Well, that, too, is part of their spiritual evolution, so~🙏🏻

Remember that you’re not in a competition with anybody or even Destiny itself. To increase your luck daily, Jupiter is saying: enjoy every single day you get to make progress on your true ideal career. Whatever it is that you’re doing right now, and if you aren’t yet where you envision yourself to be, you can still enjoy every single step you manage to take on a daily basis to get you closer to where you want to be. You’re learning and gaining momentum, aren’t you? All these little steps matter in the grander scheme of your Higher Self’s orchestration to bring to your doorstep all that you deserve📦

Of all the piles, I have a strong feeling your manifestation is the most guarded by the Higher Realms. You’re meant to go through hoops and learn to prepare yourself very well so that you could build a strong foundation that is sure to have longevity. The thing you’re meant to do, to have, to express, to create and build, unlike many, many others who need to learn through gain and loss of the very things that matter to them, is going to be yours forever once you establish it. The whole idea of unlocking achievements in accordance to age is pure scam. You are safe and perfectly on time🎯

lucky strike (big blessings you’re destined to obtain) – Knight of Wands Rx

Let me let you in on a secret. Mental clarity/health is absolutely paramount to your success story. Plenty of young people get crowned with massive successes without having a strong foundation of morality or empathy, and least of all, spirituality. For example… How many times have we heard tragical Hollywood stories where young celebs/influencers became the IT girls/boys very early on only to crumble and get shattered by the time they’re in their late 20s or early 30s? (Saturn freaking Return!) All because they’re so out of touch with reality🤷🏻‍♀️

Not saying they’re terrible seeds per se, but perhaps it was their environment/upbringing what didn’t allow them to bloom beautifully the way you are with your emotional and spiritual maturity. Whatever career choice you have in mind, know that when you’re finally established there, you’re going to be so based, so grounded in reality that everybody is going to have immense respect for you for the things you say and contribute to your cause📢

Your lucky break may indeed require a slow, careful planning, all behind the scenes, too. You are meant to develop in the fog and mists, away from the beady eyes of those who might seek to trample over everything you’re building. Nobody would ever guess what your next lucky chapter would look like! But you do. You do so well because you’re working on it every day, diligently and resiliently. Maybe you don’t know yet, but Lady Luck is visiting a lot sooner than logically expected hahah And when she carries you through those winds of change…🥂

DESTINY SERVING TEA🔻💙

mother Jupiter on your side (message from Jupiter) – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

merging with your Higher Self (the weight of destiny) – Priestess of Clarity

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Resiliently Growing in the Mud

lucky money (insights into lucky career opportunities) – 2 of Cups Rx

Harmony is definitely integral to your spiritual sanity. You’re not the type of person who can thrive in a dog-eat-dog industry. When people are ugly to each other at the workplace, it fucks most of your brain’s functions up. This coldass capitalistic system doesn’t suit you; and if you can’t seem to catch up, it’s not because you’re a failure, but because you’re wired towards a more high-vibrational existence. An existence where people’s interactions are generally pleasant and—in some instances—beautiful💞

There must be some significant Libra/7th House or Pisces/12th House placements in your birth chart that are pulling you towards creating harmony in your work environment. Being surrounded by ease and beauty is of paramount importance to your optimal functioning. If you’ve ever experienced some kind of a professional heartbreak from betrayal/cruelty by co-workers or bosses, that environment ain’t where you belong, and it is perfectly safe for you to eject yourself from that hellhole. There are better things more suited to your Style🌈

Lady Luck says you may be more suited to working alone until you establish yourself enough to make collaborations with others who are quite similar to you in terms of their general politeness and delightful visions for the world. Wow that’s a longass sentence. For example, a vibe I’m getting is a small business owner selling whatever beautiful and creative things you can produce on your own. Even if not selling, you could have, for example, a YT channel showcasing your real-time painting or any other interests/talents you may have and get money from rolling ads🎞

lucky daily (ways to increase luck every day) – 6 of Cups

If you’ve ever had frustrating, or even painful, experiences in the corporate world—whatever the setting may be—that whole ordeal was truly teaching you the importance of working with just a small circle of trustworthy individuals to move forward with. Integrity is crucial in your daily choices. Sharing ideas and stories with kindred spirits is the way to go in your case. That you never betray your own purity, that you don’t give in to selling your Soul to the Devil, that you never let yourself kowtow to the System…

All of these brave decisions are what’s going to be favoured by the Lady Luck. In different scenarios this endeavour may take some time, but don’t fret, because for most people, accessing the Power of Jupiter does take some maturing. It does take some experiencing, some intel-gathering, some philosophising over many, many things that are eating away at your sanity. The moment you become clear about those wrong things is the moment you regain control over your daily choices🍭

You may want to look at what your 6th House sign and placement entail for your healthy habit-building~ You’re a bit of a Faery Soul, an Elven Soul, or maybe a Mermaid Soul; you’re gentle and more sensitive than most Humans. Maintaining harmony and balance in your everyday Life is key to increasing your Luck daily. You’re spiritual and creative, and so, if you allow yourself to indulge in soulful activities as part of your money-making endeavours, Lady Luck is going to gladly visit you every day~🌬

lucky strike (big blessings you’re destined to obtain) – 5 of Wands Rx

It isn’t to say that you’re meant to only live a secluded, hermit lifestyle. As mentioned earlier, you could benefit from working alone when you’re just starting on your passion project. You’re more suited to working solo and figuring things out yourself as you build a livelihood that’s generally pleasant every day~🌌

When you’ve raised your vibrations enough and be super charming and confident because you’re making money by living authentically, you’re going to become a magnet for amazing, one-of-a-kind, kindred spirits who are just as unconventional as yourself. You’re going to be glad because your connections and relationships are going to be exciting without stupid dramas. This in itself could lead to amazing collaborations with those who share similar visions as yourself🌉

You are definitely amongst those convention breakers who will show others that operating on nothing but the spirit of competition in the professional world is dumb as fuck. People thrive when they collab with those of similar tastes and minds. When all’s said and done, you’re meant to have a Life of ease and a lot of cheer with unique individuals living high-vibrationally interesting lives, carving your own alternative existence~💠

DESTINY SERVING TEA🔻💛

mother Jupiter on your side (message from Jupiter) – Green Astronomer (Nicolaus Copernicus)

merging with your Higher Self (the weight of destiny) – Priestess of Inspiration

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – It’s Like You’re Growing Money on Trees, My Goodness!

lucky money (insights into lucky career opportunities) – Page of Pentacles Rx

It’s clear you’ve done some heavy shadow work, maybe it’s only begun quite recently; but for some, this may have been ongoing for quite a number of years. Whatever the case may be, and however old you may be, there’s this feeling that you’re starting over. You’re just beginning to live again. This time around, you’re living on your own terms; you’re feeling, ‘This is who I should’ve always been!’ And you feel incredibly glad, for the most part😶

It’s perfectly normal to feel sad sometimes, after all, a lot of shit you’ve faced. For quite some time, you totally bought the hustle culture—the thing about it was that you were ludicrously hard on yourself. I sense a majority of you reading this are Millennials? Or perhaps older Gen Zs. Anyway, your expectations on yourself were hurting you so much. After some shadow work, you realised da problem wasn’t you; it was the System. You were scammed big time🤬

Thus you quit a whole industry and began cultivating your own Art. This is the spiritual pile for sure. I sense many of you reading this resonate with being a Lightworker, Starseed, or a Mystic even. You could be doing tarot readings yourself; running a blog channelling cosmic messages from higher beings; some could have a YT channel dedicated to New Age spirituality or esoteric occult knowledge; and some could even be a detective or in the investigative field. WHOA. If you’re not already doing these thing, Spirit Guides are saying you would be very blessed by the Lady Luck if you thrust yourself into these types of work😘

lucky daily (ways to increase luck every day) – 5 of Pentacles Rx

Whoa… do I need to give you any advice or anything? Bitch, you cracked the code! You’re practically a master manifestor at this point in your Life. I sense some of you reading this may not resonate just yet but you’ve literally transcended far above the need for money. Right now, if you allow yourself to calm down, you’ll realise you could just sit down every day and money grows on your trees~🌳

You’ve quite become an embodiment of your Higher Self, and that Oversoul of yours knows you’re unlimited. There is no more lack in your subconscious, let’s just put it that way. Now your conscious, your logical brain, just needs to adjust to this new paradigm (if not already) and you will be effortlessly attracting the means to afford all that you need to move forward. With 5 of Pentacles in reverse—namely a trauma card—Spirit Guides are saying you’re in a healing phase right now🧸

If—IF—certain days you feel tired, fatigued, drowsy for an entire day, and just unmotivated to work even on something you’re passionate about, please know this is your body still recuperating from the adrenal stress caused by long years of having to hustle or simply having a hustle mindset. You’re not doing anything wrong and you’re not failing, OK? Your intelligent body is just telling you it’s safe to slow down now. It’s perfectly good to sleep aaallll day and just feed and clean yourself for 5 consecutive days if that’s really all you can do to maintain mental and spiritual balance. That spiritual balance is what’s going to effortlessly manifest all the abundance you’re so deserving, so don’t be afraid of ‘missing’ some work days~🛌

lucky strike (big blessings you’re destined to obtain) – 4 of Cups

There is a sense of stability that you’re going to manifest pretty soon in your Life (if not already LOL). In some regards, this stability could even feel rather boring, uneventful, just because you were quite used to having a lot of chaos in your previous chapter of Life. But this stability will serve as a big ‘rehab period’ for you to truly shift your paradigm. And then, once you manage to get all your ducks in a row in your new paradigm…🦆

Pretty soon you’re gonna see everything in your Life move quite fast. If by any chance you’ve resonated with this: ‘I feel like everything has changed so much, yet nothing seems to have changed at all…’ please know this is actually yourself slowing things down so you don’t manifest another set of stressful unfolding of events! This was preordained by your Higher Self! Hahah…

The reason for this is that at this point in your spiritual evolution, you’ve become really particular about high-quality manifestations you’re willing to entertain within the construct of your own Reality. So much so that you simply won’t entertain the manifestation of good opportunities if it’s going to be stressful. NO STRESS is a big part of your magick. This concept literally goes beyond just material things; pretty soon you’ll see that you’re only manifesting high-quality experiences, environments, encounters, and even Love🦢

DESTINY SERVING TEA🔻💜

mother Jupiter on your side (message from Jupiter) – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

merging with your Higher Self (the weight of destiny) – Priestess of Intuition

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

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astrolovecosmos · 3 months

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The Planets & Random or Obscure Associations

~Sun~

Creativity, vitality, head of state, the father, games, yellow and orange clothing, articles of value, jewelry, gold, brass, power, diamonds, citrine, topaz, jasper, amber, rhodochrosite, mistletoe, almonds, citrus, succulents, sunflowers, fevers, heart, back, spine, grapes, walnuts, rice, chamomile, frankincense, juniper, saffron, marigold, rosemary, rue, palaces, towers, luxury.

~Moon~

Eternal, cycles, silver, aluminum, pearls, moonstone, opal, selenite, chest, glands, lymphatic system, nervous system, emotions, mother, ancestors, nurture, rebirth, tides, baths, ocean, brew, boat, sap, willow trees, succulents, pale color plants, white flowers, cucumber, cabbage, lettuce, melons, shellfish, pumpkins, lakes, fountains, ports, fishponds, pools, springs, sewers, dairies, toys, reflection, blankets, objects of comfort.

~Mercury~

Communication, journal, pen/pencil, any writing tools, wings, phosphorous, mercury, agate, tiger's eye, brain, nervous system, eyes, respiration, thyroid, speech, hearing, intellect, vehicles, money, bills, paper, books, pictures, parties or social gatherings, scientific instruments, butterflies, messages, mail, hazel, mulberry, myrtle, seeds, aniseed, dill, fennel, lavender, liquorice, marjoram, parsley, valerian, hazelnuts, beans, mushrooms, pomegranates, carrots, celery, libraries, schools, markets, fairs, public spaces, tennis or badminton court, studies, banks, bowling greens, offices, blue, white, or light colored flowers.

~Venus~

Love, relating, lust, high-quality fabrics, copper, bronze, sodium, malachite, tourmaline, emerald, rose quartz, kunzite, sapphire, pastels, throat, kidneys, lumber region, art, music, aesthetics, social life, fashion, jewelry, wine, pleasure, alder tree, fruit trees, paint, ash tree, birch, pomegranates, early flowering, daisy, mint, marshmallow, meadowsweet, mugwort, plantain, tansy, roses, thyme, vervain, yarrow, potatoes, strawberries, wheat, sugar, nectarines, ballrooms, bedrooms, dining room, gardens, fountains, wardrobes, theaters, looking and feeling good.

~Mars~

Lust, conquest, desire, flaming sword, red things, fights, iron, brass, bloodstone, carnelian, cinnabar, pyrite, magnetite, ruby, garnet, hematite, muscles, reproductive organs, blood, kidneys, immunity, heat, action, arms, pepper, sharp instruments, cutlery, attacks, scissors, weapons, physical intimacy, bites, stings, scalds, burns, accidents, hawthorn, pine, thorns, cactus, aloes, anemone, arnica, belladonna, garlic, ginger, hops, mustard seed, nettles, wormwood, chives, onions, leeks, radish, rhubarb, tobacco, labs, furnaces, distilleries, bakehouses, ovens, smiths, butchers, fields, anger, passion, self-focus.

~Jupiter~

Expansion, optimism, religion, religious sites, tin, seduction, turquoise, chrysocolla, topaz, citrine, jasper, liver, pancreas, pituitary gland, sciatic nerve, excess, abundance, prophecy, philosophy, knowledge, universities, foreign travel, luggage, honey, oil, silk, fruit, distinct clothing, merchandise, horses, domestic birds, gambling, indulgence, entertainment, oak, dandelion, sage, endive, chervil, asparagus, figs, churches, temples, palaces, altars, courts, mansions, woods, orchards, winery, cornucopia, connecting with the soul.

~Saturn~

Limits, boundaries, father time, lord of death, shadows, lead, iron, steel, calcium, asbestos, sulphur, diamond, onyx, calcite, skeleton, spleen, skin, teeth, nails, joints, structure, crystallization, old age, blockage, anything dark, wool, heavy materials, agriculture, wheelbarrows, spades, farm houses and buildings, cold, laws, aspen, blackthorn, buckthorn, cypress, elm, toxic plants, hemlock, henbane, belladonna, hellebore, barley, beetroot, safflower, parsnips, spinach, deserts, woods, valleys, caves, church yards, ruins, coalpits, sinks, wells, mud, institutions.

~Uranus~

Eccentrics, mavericks, invention, genius, revolution, change, trends, disruptive science or tech, uranium, magnesium, lapis lazuli, sapphire, aquamarine, azurite, chalcedony, electricity, neon lights, plaid, nervous and circulatory system, pineal gland, chaos, violence, upheaval, astrology, steam engines, coal, machinery, coins, baths, fishponds, dangerous places, computers, magnets, quantum physics, research, welfare, humanity, hypnotherapy, railways, banks, gas, psychiatric hospitals, offices, hospitals, dispensaries, fortified places, chemicals, mingled/mingling, spirit and matter.

~Neptune~

Illusions, veils, diffuse, deception, water, oceans, mysticism, enlightenment, artistic pursuit and understanding, zinc, potassium, amethyst, fluorite, jade, sugilite, coral, aquamarine, pineal gland, lymphatic and nervous system, spine, mental processes, addiction, psychoses, disease, photography, music, substances, gas, religion, poetry, mimicry, chameleon, anesthetic, telepathy, empathy, dancing, psychic gifts, places near water, hospitals, places of healing, jeweler, painters, brewers, musicians, visionary.

~Pluto~

Power, influence, darkness, new life, what's hidden underneath, seeds, volcanoes, deep earth or ocean, bury, explosions, eruptions, abduction, plutonium, smoky quartz, obsidian, jet, pearl, deep reds, reproductive organs, the unconscious, nuclear, transformation, death, birth, rebirth, underworld, riches, earthquakes, big business, murder, detection, detective, invisibility, sneak, enforced change, hidden places, underground, drains, sewers, radioactive places, the occult, black magic, sacrifice, renew.

#zodiac #astrology #planets #sun #moon #mars #venus #mercury #jupiter #saturn #uranus #neptune #pluto

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 28 days

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Hi there,

Saw your post about Cajun/cowboy Alastor and OMG! I don’t have many ideas other then maybe he plays poker for souls or something like that and maybe a reader comes into town and is just as good at poker as he is. And he cannot seem to win, leading him to become mildly obsessed over winning their soul.

Thats all I have as I don’t know much about cajun/cowboy stuff.

I’ll let you know if I have any other ideas!

Thank you!

Alastor - [ ACE OF HEARTS ]

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A/N: Omg, I love your take on cowboy Al! It got me thinking about it for days. I have never played poker, so I had to watch multiple YouTube videos to understand the game while writing this. Hopefully, it came out accurate enough! Also, this is a very, VERY traumatic/smut-heavy fic I'm working on, so please be aware and know I don't endorse anything I write.

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ GUN PLAY… ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON….eventually.] + [ SLIGHT/IMPLIED AGE GAP ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/BLOOD/CANNABILISM ] + [ KIDNAPPING…sort of?.. ] + [ PARENTAL PHYSICAL AB*SE…eventually..] + [ ANGST/TRUAMA…]

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**Cowboy Alastor** is known for his record of killing, is a skilled bounty hunter, and is far from a decently moral one. Everyone assumes his motives, guessing who his next target is and if he’ll ever feel guilt for what he does to them.

He doesn't.

What kind of demon would he be if he did…

Besides, the people he kills owe him in one way or another, all in debt to the red demon by their stupidity and lust for life, so he feels nothing for them when the time comes for the price of their deals to be paid.

Alastor arrives for them in the dead of dry nights, taking their last breath with a single bullet to the head or a clean cut across the throat. Their pleas do little to affect his decision.

“A deal is a deal…”

He reminds them that escaping a bloody end is impossible, already solidified by their selfish desires, and no amount of begging will change his mind. They curse his name, glaring at the grin on his face as he draws nearer with deathly intent in his eyes, and it only grows as he derives pleasure from their refusal to cooperate.

The riches, the riding, and the roughness he endures daily are nothing compared to the satisfaction he gets from killing. Others may deal in chasing oil, farming land, and cattle, but he stakes his fulfillment in the business of blood.

**Cowboy Alastor** dabbles in gambling when he's not off-striking deals with lowly souls or wreaking havoc on those he deems deserving.

Every city south of New Orleans with a bar or saloon welcomes his visits and not by choice.

Those who don't meet his standards or demands of hospitality drop from the face of the earth at his will, burning to a crisp full of the dead occupants who so lightly offended him, and never to be rebuilt out of fear he'd return to demolish it again.

He surely would, but no one has yet to test the theory in fear of a painful death by his hands.

Alastor leisurely travels the expanse of Louisiana's countryside, partial to riding wherever the wind blows, but he’ll always return to the rumbling city of New Orleans.

Whether for personal reasons or because his beloved mother wished to see him, it becomes second nature for the deer demon to reside there randomly. It was his hometown, after all, and he preferred the taste of whiskey from a familiar place over foreign alcohol in far-off dusty taverns he'd never visit again.

The saloon he fancies sits opposite the central townhouse, a tall building at the end of a main street that never seemed to rest.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar

Summer nights brought out and drew in more people, filling the bar with patrons who knew of his deeds and those who’d only heard scarring stories about him through the ladder. The knowledge of a red reaper roaming the towns of Louisiana varied, but their fearful respect of him was abundant the moment Alastor stepped foot into the bustling bar.

He was there, in good spirits for the most part, but still an impossible threat they couldn't brush off.

**Cowboy Alastor** greets the silent patrons with a sly grin, tipping his hat to the fear-stricken owner who eyed him from behind the packed bar.

“Don't let me interrupt the fun, Cher. I'm not here to cause you trouble… that's if you're kind enough to indulge me.”Alastor chuckles, not waiting for a proper response from anyone as he stalks over to his usual spot in the smokey parlor.

A group of cattlemen stiffen in their seats as he walks by, all grabbing their drinks as swiftly as possible before leaping up from their table to avoid him, and their skittish actions cause Alastor to laugh as he settles into a particular backroom booth.

It was customary for people to keep their distance from him, some deterred by his striking appearance while others simply didn't want to risk involvement with a known killer. He saw nothing wrong with their aversion, glad that his reputation proceeded him, but there were those single few who saw him as a challenge rather than a threat.

Poor fools…

Mortal or not, he ran into them regularly, welcoming their duels like a bored child getting a new toy to destroy, and though he knew they'd fail to win against him, he'd never turn down a good game.

Ever…

**Cowboy Alastor** lets the saloon wind into chaos again, humming along to the melody of music and rowdy singing while getting comfortable in his secluded spot.

His hat rests low on his head, shielding most of his red gaze from those who look his way, only leaving the view of his Cheshire smile and effectively signaling his oddly calm demeanor. Alastor slipped his riding jacket off, tossing the tailored burgundy clothing across the back of the booth, his leather and suede black gloves following suit.

“What a day it's been…” he mumbled while flexing his long fingers, relaxing his posture while leaning back and rolling his neck until a soft ‘pop’ was heard.

Consequently, the tension tangled in his limber body from riding all day unraveled. Alastor sucked his teeth at the feeling, licking his lips as a satisfied groan left them, and just as he sat forward again, the owner hurried to his table with a bottle of alcohol and a tray of cigars.

“Your usual, Al,” he split out, setting the items in front of him with shakey hands, and Alastor clicks his tongue at the nervous tick. He'd come to this bar for years, and the old man still trembled in his boots around him. The poor fool wouldn't dare admit his fear either, rushing off as soon as he reached for the bottle, and though some might consider his retreat rude, Alastor found it amusing.

Flattering, even.

**Cowboy Alastor** drinks slowly, letting the whiskey burn his tongue and drowning the malt taste with languid drags from a cigar.

Eyes scan over him, women whisper about him lustfully under the rowdy music, and the men keep their senses about them with happy trigger fingers.

Because as they say: “Red Reaper, Red Reaper. The devil's solemn deal keeper. Beware him & the hell he seeks…”

Alastor imposes his intensity, grinning at those who stare too long, watching the women who drink him in with an equally sultry stare, and daring the men to throw a bullet his way with a knowing smirk. He invites trouble, waiting for it like a preying snake in tall, dry grass, but after some time, he assumes no one in the saloon will accept his invitation.

That is until you step in, looking lost among the worldly thrills of a bar but unafraid to venture further into it with an air of certainty surrounding you.

**Cowboy Alastor** makes no move to approach you, laid back as ever, as he observes the gentle way you speak to men who drunkenly approach you. They make offers to dance, almost crowding your more diminutive form as you trail to the bar.

“Sorry, boys, but I'm here on business, not pleasure. Now, run along..” you wave them away playfully, purposely flirtatious but avidly stern.

He expects them to continue bugging you; you're a doll, after all, prettier than most women he's seen. However, the men retreat politely, leaving you be as the owner approaches your side, and you immediately turn to hug him despite his apparent concerned expression.

Alastor observes the exchange closely, reading your lips perfectly while sipping at his drink, and it's all too easy for him to assess the situation.

The daughter of a businessman returns home after finishing school in the north, wanting to visit him at work as a pleasant surprise, but he's far from happy about a young lady like yourself being out late at night in a place like this.

You're too mannered to be seen around the patrons, it's dangerous for you to ride alone in the evening, and your father isn't pleased you intend to stay out to celebrate your school completion.

He tells you it's best to go home, that he'll come with you, but you insist on staying and remind him, “I'm not your little girl anymore, Daddy!..” The older man can't seem to rein you in, having to drop the lecture as a small brawl breaks out in the corner of the saloon, which draws his attention immediately, and this leaves you to wander the scene freely.

A perfect time for Alastor to reel you in close and personal…

**Cowboy Alastor** whistles when you walk past his area, catching your attention with a short, soulful melody, and you quickly notice him in the dim back room.

“Hi there, lil’ lady. Searchin' for somethin'?” He inquires playfully, tone bordering sensual, and his grin slipping into a closed smile as your gaze settles on him.

You’re curious, not scared of him like most are, and the moment he speaks to you, questions race through your head.

Who is he?

How have you never seen him here before?

Why, in God's name, is he sitting away from the masses?

Is he a rider, a hunter, or maybe a convict?

It was hard to tell from a distance, so without a second thought, you flashed him a gentle smile, gradually approaching where he sat, “Hello, and who might you be, sir?” You chirp a greeting, resisting the urge to bite your lip as he stares into your wandering gaze.

Alastor assumed you’d been away from the South too long to realize who he was, that your father's earlier warning didn’t sprout from overprotectiveness but rather fear of his presence.

You didn’t see him as a threat, nor a danger, but a new face in an old town.

He chuckles, putting out his cigar after taking a particularly long drag from it, blowing smoke past his lips with a coy hum. You blink as the convoluted air fans your face, unbothered by it and itching for a taste of tobacco yourself. It’d been a few years since you’d let loose, not allowed to frequent bars or act unladylike in the limelight of northern modesty.

“A loyal patron, but it’s been some time since I’ve paid this place a visit.” He answers you politely, an odd trait that most men only reserved for themselves but refreshing to experience.

“Oh, well, that’s nice to hear, but your name is what I would like to know.”

A tender smirk stretches your lips, a red hue dusting your cheeks as he tips his hate apologetically before uttering a response, “Alastor Hartifelt. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” he pauses, quirking a brow at you expectantly, and you take a moment to analyze him further.

You've heard your father utter his name many times before your departure to the north. He'd described him brutally, having less than pleasant things to say about bounty hunters in general but especially about the man in front of you now. You'd heard people talk of his deeds, deals, and evil.

He was dubbed the ‘Red Reaper’ for a good reason, lurking around in the bitter nights and drawing blood from one poor soul or another in his travels.

Supposedly, he was a terrifying monster, but you'd always found beauty in the demented. It was one of the reasons your father had sent you away, but fortunately, the influence of the posh upper class did nothing to change your consciousness.

Besides, the rumors had failed to mention how attractive the red reaper was, let alone dashing. He seemed nice enough hadn't flashed his weapon, threatened, or catcalled you disrespectfully.

So, you found no harm in telling him your name, “Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hartifelt.” You blink slowly, drowning in his red eyes, unconsciously swaying where you stood, back to a wall that hid your presence near him from your father's eyes and the curious stares of others.

Alastor glanced at the space beside him, silently asking that you join him, but unlike most women, he rarely took an interest in, you didn't move until he asked you outright.

“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss L/n? I'd like to have your company for a while..”

He doesn't speak any louder than needed, using every bit of charm he has to lure you in, and you let him believe he's succeeded with a sensual laugh and purring laugh.

“Why, I thought you'd never ask..”

**Cowboy Alastor** asks a lot of questions. Subtly gathering information about you that he has no use for.

You give him answers; some are lies, others are indiscriminate truths, but you can't bring yourself to be completely honest with a stranger known for his cunning. He keeps your glass full, pacing the liquor with you, reveling in your gentle laughter after every sip, and softening faster and faster the longer you conversed.

You kept your wits about you as best as possible, inviting his fleeting touches but never going further than whispering in his ear or tapping a finger under his sharp chin when he'd stare too long.

Alastor didn't mind your soft hands on him, nor your lingering gaze and confident provocations. He absentmindedly returned the gestures just as boldly.

Your fifth glass of whiskey was running low, and without a hint of hesitation, he refilled it alongside his own. You watched as the amber liquid filled each glass, utterly relaxed as he spoke to you tenderly, “You say your father sent you far up north. May I ask why?…”

He peers at you, sliding the transparent glass into your waiting hand, and you chuckle wryly while taking a sip. “Daddy says it was for my good. You see, my mother is a stickler about manners, and I didn't have much of any growing up. Ironic, seeing as I was raised well enough.” you paused, frowning at the memory of your strict but loving mother.

She was lovely to look at and kind most of the time, but her ambitions for you outweighed her patience. Alastor noted the haunting sadness in your eyes but said nothing as you continued, looking out into the crowd of patrons fussing about as you did.

“My mother died a few years back, leaving daddy to handle me, and when he realized he couldn't manage the business and a daughter, he sent me away. Couldn't blame him either; I was getting into trouble left and right and had some bad habits on the rise, too.”

His ears perked at the words ‘bad habits’ leaving your lips, naturally drawn to knowing a mortal's darkest secrets, so he pressed for clarification.

“Bad habits, you say? I couldn't imagine a sweet thing like you havin’ such things.”

You scoffed, glad your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol buzz to mask the blush his comment invoked, “Well…I did. Still do if I'm honest.” you admit in a hushed tone, knocking back the last of your drink before glancing his way.

“It's hard to resist doing things you're good at.”

Alastor leaned back into the seat, drink in one hand, the other fixing his hat so it sat back on his head. The adjustment gave you a peek at his fluffy red hair and the distinctive blood-marked x on his forehead. You thought to ask what the mark meant but saved the question for later, as he agreed with your statement.

“Very true, ma chere. Although I'm one for killin’, your passion may not be so grizzly and easier to alleviate.”

“My father thinks gambling is just as bad as killing. It doesn't matter if he's addicted to it himself or not. If I do it…I'm the devil's daughter in his eyes..” You roll your eyes, an action that jolts a nerve Alastor hasn't felt in years and subconsciously doesn't ignore.

“Gambling? That's your unproper poison?” he narrows his gaze as you nod lazily, a few ringlets of your hair falling from its pinned-up style as you do, resting on the skin of your shoulders and neck.

Soft.

Your locks look soft and silky to the touch, tempting him to run his fingers through it, across your skin, and, god forbid, under your dress.

A heavy breath settled in his chest at the possibility, a familiar rush coursing through him as you moved your lips to speak, “Yes. I see a stack of playin’ cards, and I just can't help myself. I got rather good at playing too but when you beat everyone in town at it people start to be less kind about your reputation.”

You laugh, attempting to make a light-hearted joke but ultimately grimacing at the mention of lousy sportsmanship from others. You couldn't help winning a challenge in poker, and many saw the talent as disgraceful, which prompted I'll rumor about you.

“That's a shame, sugar. Everyone deserves a chance to play a good game of their choosing.” he feigns concern, meeting your curious eyes as you shift to face him, “Everyone except me if my father has anything to say about it. Still, I suppose it's best I let it go…” you sigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour another shot.

Suddenly, you freeze, feeling his body heat invade your space. Alastor tilts his head down close to yours, breathing in your scent discretely before pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear as he mutters into it, “Why don't you play a game with me, chere? One lil’ round for fun… right under your daddy's nose, hm?”

The burn of excitement seizes your body, a shakey breath leaving your lips as his voice settles in your mind, inviting you to indulge his offer. That same heat pooled in your core with every second he spent in your space, inhaling the scent of bourbon and sweet sugar cane grass he rode through radiating off him, words just as inviting and addictive.

For a horrifying, well-feared killer, he sure did entice a woman like any natural-born gentleman…

It was a deathly combination you knew he often used, killing or not, and though it'd be wise to avoid his idea, you didn't want to risk missing an opportunity for the thrill.

It'd been so long, too long, and what's the worst that could happen?

Losing to him?

You'd never lost to anyone before, and you were confident that fact wouldn't change -even going up against the Red Reaper himself.

**Cowboy Alastor** relishes when you utter a ‘yes’ to his offer. His grin widens menacingly for a split second as he sets his glass down next to your empty one, conjuring up a meticulously detailed deck of playing cards and placing them on the table.

“You can choose which game we play, sugar…”

Alastor shifts away from you, letting you regain your composure and watching as your delicate fingers reach for the top card of the deck.

“Poker. A favorite of mine..” You didn't think twice before answering him, admiring the red and black ace in your hand, wondering where he acquired such personalized playing cards.

“Poker it is then, chere,” he smirks wickedly, removing his hat entirely to set it on the table before gingerly plucking the card from your hold and sliding to sit opposite you while dishing out equal amounts of cards between you.

Your eyes light up under the oil lamp's golden hue, studying the flick of his hands as he worked, trying hard not to wander up to his piercing gaze. Afraid he'd immediately see your attraction to his nimble hands, well to him in general, and use it against you somehow, so your focus remains on the hand dealt and not him.

As you both plucked your respective set from the table, studying the cards intently, you asked the singular most crucial question every poker match was built on.

“What will the bets be,” Your innocent inquiry earns sultry laughter from him, filling the air, raising feverish chills on your skin as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I prefer bargains of the soul, my dear. The use and price of one's existence is always more valuable than money, don't you agree?”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

A/N: Don't be mad AT ME, GUYS, PLEASE. I HAD EXAMS LAST WEEK. I'm SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH… sort of, but I'm back now (please do hate me :((( ). Uh, so I might merge “Down in the Dust” with this because both stories kinda originated in my brain at the same time. However, since this is a request, I wrote a two-part tangent smut as a sort of prequel to the other fic! Also, the phrase “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy” will be unironically used…I'm sorry (I'm not lol) ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ] VOLUME WARNING!!! 🗣️

Fun fact: In the South, we have a rule that if you take a cowboy hat and end up wearing it, they catch you with it (preferably in the mutual interest of getting to know each other). That cowboy gets to fuck you (hopefully, but technically you're initiating a flirting game wearing their hat, lol). It's a cute concept and one any Cowboy Alastor enthusiast should think about. ❤️ credits to the creator.

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libraincarnate · 1 year

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astrology notes: 9 🐰𖤣𖥧.𖡼.⚘

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a collection of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experiences. above all this is just for fun. lastly, these may or may not apply to you but you might find something to be true about your friends, family, or lover. enjoy!

𓍊𓋼𓍊 i feel like aries & sag mars are the types to do extreme sports like skateboarding, surfing, mountain climbing, snowboarding, bungee jumping, bmx, etc.

𓋼𓍊 moon conjunct/trine/sextile neptune: those with these aspects may be good actors or have some of the qualities & abilities needed for good acting. i feel like they know how to fake cry. they could purposely & easily evoke a memory or experience that triggers an emotional response. there’s this ability to manipulate their feelings but also the feelings of others. the ability to couple their emotional intelligence & creativity and combine them with reality & illusion. they make it believable. with that being said they can also be good liars too. and remember neptune is associated with tv/film.

^ moon-mercury aspects is another aspect that i feel is beneficial for acting because actors also needs to convey emotion with their words & it needs to sound convincing. it should make sense and be in accord with their facial and physical expressions, it needs to fit the script. especially for voice acting.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 geminis & virgos: do yourself a favor and tidy up the notes in your notes app. it’ll declutter your mind, phone, and to-do list lol. plus it may be fun for the virgos who like to organize. perhaps gemini too. i wouldn’t say gems like to organize and arrange things like virgo but it may be mentally stimulating for them kind of like a puzzle, figuring where to put what.

𓋼𓍊 sag, capricorn, aries, scorpio, and aquarius are some of the most straightforward and direct individuals. they’re honest and if they hold back their words then it’s for your sake. may have an “it’s not how you say it but it’s what you say that matters” mindset. they may be perceived as harsh or as assholes because of how candid they can be. plus they’re super sarcastic (except aries, in my opinion).

𓍊𓋼𓍊 your big 3 making harsh aspects to each other: hard to be yourself or accept yourself for who you are. doesn’t mean you don’t like yourself or your personality but beneath it all there may be a part of you that finds it difficult to feel comfortable with the real you as a whole.

this doesn’t need to be discouraging. having difficult placements, aspects, etc. doesn’t equal inaction on your part. you still have control over yourself & you can make changes, improvements. sort out your strengths/weaknesses according to your big 3 & try finding a balance between them, figuring out ways to make them work together. take the difficulties/challenges & turn then into a greater sense of confidence and personal power.

𓋼𓍊 taurus/libra absolutely hate being rushed but libras are also big on manners so they respect punctuality.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 moon in the 10th house: may be in a position where you explain/express your feelings to the public. whether it be as an artist or maybe you have a large following on social media, you connect to your followers on an emotional level, or you’re just open with your emotions & speak about it publicly. of course some moon signs are more reserved but if you have a gemini moon or moon at 3°, 15°, or 27° you might end up saying more than you’d like.

𓋼𓍊 venus-jupiter aspects: these natives probably gamble or make bets often. playing the lottery, watching/playing poker, betting on sports, going to the casino, etc. both venus & jupiter are associated with wealth, jupiter with favorable opportunities & expansion, and venus (more so taurus) is associated with monetary possessions.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 7th house ruler in the 12th house: your lover, future spouse, enemies, or people you should/shouldn’t connect with may be revealed to you in your dreams.

𓋼𓍊 if sun-moon aspects can reveal things about your parents’ relationship (like sun square moon may indicate divorce, incompatibility, etc.), mercury-venus/mars aspects may reveal things about your relationship with your siblings.

mercury (hermes & ruler of the 3rd house) is associated with siblings.

venus (aphrodite) represents females and feminine relationships, or the sister in this case.

mars (ares) represents males and masculine relationships, or the brother in this case.

no or few aspects between mercury-venus/mars may behave like an empty third house meaning there isn’t really much of a relationship or not a strong one. it may not be a prominent relationship in your life. you guys may be cool with each other and have each other's backs but there isn’t that close sibling bond. of course if you have 3rd house placements but no or few mercury-venus/mars aspects, or vice versa, results vary & there may be a relationship.

harmonious aspects = possibly/likely a harmonious relationship with your sibling(s).

disharmonious aspects = possibly/likely a disharmonious relationship with your sibling(s).

a conjunction may go either way.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 12th house placements may belittle their suffering and traumatic experiences. they may be detached from those experiences even though they have clearly affected them and their lives. plus, with the 12th house being mysterious there is a lack of understanding. there’s a lack of structure. things feel amorphous & difficult to grasp so it’s pushed aside to the subconscious. for these reasons it may be difficult for them to thoroughly heal from those experiences. but the healing is definitely possible & i wish that for all of you. here's an extra heart for you guys ♥︎.

𓋼𓍊 retrograde planets in your birth chart: the house in which those retrograde planets fall may show you the things or areas of life you struggle with accepting. you might not want to do things that are related to the themes of that house, they may make you uncomfortable. there’s friction, a bit of fear, reluctance, or insecurity.

for example,

saturn retrograde in the 5th house - difficulty accepting pleasure and failure, extra pressure to be productive instead of having fun, uncomfortable with expressing yourself, maybe you don’t get a long with children well and don’t want any of your own.

neptune retrograde in the 1st house - a lack of self-awareness, confusion about who you are, difficulty accepting the way you look, uncomfortable with introspection. fear of the new, shying away from leadership positions or taking initiative.

pluto retrograde in the 12th house - a fear of the unknown or the dark, difficulty accepting your dark side, your past & obsessing over it, discomfort in solitude, resisting & battling restriction.

mercury retrograde in the 10th house - fear of public speaking/stage fright, confusion regarding your career, difficulty executing your plans, discomfort with accepting fame or popularity, insecure with making long-term goals, constantly making changes, shunning responsibility.

mars retrograde in the 7th house - difficulty establishing relationships, fear of commitment, shying away from marriage, a lack of confidence when connecting to others, discomfort with being vulnerable.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 your moon persona chart can give you a deeper understanding of how you navigate your emotions & how you handle emotions in general, not just yours. also, you may relate to the placement of chiron in your moon persona chart more than its placement in your natal chart. it can reveal another layer of some of your deepest emotional wounds. you might look at this chart and think "oh, that makes sense."

𓋼𓍊 jupiter retrograde in the 8th house (synastry): 8th house person may find the jupiter person untrustworthy. stolen opportunity, theft in general, ruining credit, negatively affecting finances. jupiter person may be a source of pain & suffering to the 8th house person.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 exposing my fellow air signs here: when it comes to air signs geminis have been called liars/2 faced, libras have been called a gossip/people pleaser, aquarius have been said to have a god complex.

but when is someone gunna talk about how aquarius also can play victim and they always have an excuse??? if gems are good at lying on the spot, aquarius is good at making excuses. lol if scorpios (not an air sign, i know) would rather die than say sorry, aquarius would rather die than accept blame. surely if there’s a god complex then one of the greatest offenses to an aquarius is being accused of some wrong doing, pointing out their flaws. after all, how can a god commit error or be flawed?

libras can lowkey be all bark and no bite. they can talk about you behind your back but they also tend to avoid confrontation.

& because geminis are so curious they can be so damn nosy it’s unbelievable lmfao

𓋼𓍊 leo has great leadership qualities and they know how to use those qualities to guide themselves. they have a good sense of direction, they attract opportunity like a magnet but they also know how to create it too. they let no opportunity go to waste and they know how to maximize the opportunities that are available to them.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 i've seen some astro observations say that virgos tend to really like cats. but how many of you virgos have some kind of bird as one of your favorite animals? it's a pattern i've been starting to notice an i'd like further confirmation.

if you read this until the end i hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you.

#astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #astrology notes #astro notes #libraincarnate

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theclearblue · 5 months

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One of my favorite things about Jujutsu Kaisen is that I get to watch shonen powerscalers run around in circles as if Gege isn't actively trolling the audience at all times. Kenjaku has an easier time against one of the very few special grade sorcerers compared to a guy who got his cursed technique two months ago and engages in a battle of who can pull off the funniest gag. Kashimo, the best sorcerer of his era and handpicked by Kenjaku for being strong, is given his first real challenge by a guy who runs a tacky gambling machine as his domain expansion. Sukuna is practically a demon who no one can stop, and this man is being put on trial Ace Attorney style next chapter. I'm not saying there isn't a power system, but what precedes any of that is how much Gege can add a little silliness to the story.

#i dont agree with gege on every choice but #makes me happy to see powerscalers lose their mind every week alslckwqlxlv #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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titanic-angel · 10 months

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мιgυel o'нara х ғ!reader

⁎︎✴︎ adronιтιѕ 1 ✴︎⁎︎

ѕynopѕιѕ ➪︎ мιgυel o'нara нaѕ a ѕтrange, claѕѕιғιed reqυeѕт oғ yoυ. нιм, and нιѕ dιgιтal aѕѕιѕтanт, lyla.

warnιngѕ ➪︎ swearing

noтeѕ ➪︎ enιмιeѕ тo coworĸerѕ тo ғrιendѕ тo loverѕ ѕlowвυrn ! ongoιng, υpdaтeѕ вeтween every ғew day

▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂▂︎◣︎◥︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎

She chose you because of your name.

Lyla was a program, a buzzing core of digits and code, analytics her only language. It was unlike her to go by her heart, because she didn’t have one.

But she wanted one.

The heat of skin, eyes that could look, really look, at someone. The softened hair under her finger tips- printed with a map of grooves and lines that separated her from every other. She wanted the individuality that a human body could give, and that her pixels would never achieve.

Miguel made the mistake of giving Lyla a mind of her own, because now she wanted a body to match.

After pulling a difficult, relentless, and borderline maddening attitude for years, he finally gave into her wishes, under a condition.

Only one engineer.

The creation she asked for, the mockery of humanity, could take forever, even with her limitless knowledge and Miguel’s high tech and steady hands. But despite this, Miguel refused her a team of engineers to conjure a body that would make history. In order to prevent an overlap of his secrets and the real world, Lyla was to choose only one individual who could make her a body, and keep a secret.

An individual, who, had a lovely name.

You’re transcripts were impressive enough, but not recognized; so that when you were to be snuffed, stolen under fluorescent yellow lights, the only memory left would be that of a keycard scanner.

Its ironic, that a senseless A.I made her decision off feeling. But she saw youth in your eyes, a harsh comparison the age and wisdom that spoke in purples under your lashes. It was overwhelming, the amount of life you had ahead of you, a mortality characterized by the dismal way it said goodbye. But Lyla craved it, a madwoman of science and self.

A collection of illusions that was foolish enough to believe it could be anything, something, else.

Hope is a drug.

So, addicted, she said, “her.”

Miguel would pause, eyes roaming the expanse of your face, the smile in your eyes, the taint on your teeth, your tongue, the crevices of you jaw. His clicked, eyes doubtful.

But Lyla’s were resolute.

“I want her.”

▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂▂︎◣︎◥︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎

Vague.

It was a font that thrived in obfuscated shadows. It was limitless in its unknown, clouded by things that should’ve been said, or instructions never specified.

Your pathetic heart clung to every word that stuck itself to an stark white screen, palpitations thrumming against your tonsils.

Staring back at you, an email from Miguel O’Hara, that read simply, vaguely, Meet at my office at 4:00 PM.

Your distaste for the font had now only grown.

It was impossible to work at Alchemax and not to hear his name praised at least once. Interns, employees from every felid, article after article were relentless in their awe of the man’s work.

But you weren’t stupid.

You were an observer. You knew at least fifty people who would claw him apart, sell their soul to the underworld, sacrifice an eye and ear to sit where he does, most of whom are just as qualified for the position.

That doesn’t exclude you.

It was something you despised about the company, it’s big gestures of gratitude to those with a name- only to turn with a gloved hand to feed the hogs, the greasy and bloodied heart of the operation, messily scraps.

But much like a farm animal, you were trapped in by a pen of promise and chance.

You were a pig with her farmer, believing even under the cleaver that she would see the bigger field on the other side of the fence. That gamble for praise, a trophy and a house to put it in.

But Miguel wasn’t just a pig.

He was the show hog. Big blue bows, pretty golden plaques and a pillow to sleep on.

But at the end of the day, he was fed the same slop, just in a different trough.

Even so, he had it all. He had everything you didn’t.

Well, everything but email etiquette.

So you, frantic in the newness, clung to your bag, heavy with uncertainty. You brought everything you needed- or didn’t. Papers from 2 weeks ago, two years ago, updates and criticisms, research and theories. It all felt so, infuriatingly, unsteady.

You despised your leniency, your willingness to play along. But you blamed Miguel even more. It was embarrassing for you, to run down flights of stairs on a whim. Foolishly you ask yourself who does he think he is, despite knowing the answer.

Given, you had never met the man. He was similar to the newness of the space, a gap, a tear in the pages of Alchemax’s directory, the hazy profile in your inbox a mere pixel of his program. But you could already smell his dismissiveness, his arrogance.

You of course, could’ve made the executive decision, having a mind of your own, to ignore the email (if not out of spite, out of fear).

But maybe the whispers of his name intrigued you. Maybe, you had read the articles written about him offhandedly, jealous, but impressed. Maybe, shamefully, your curiosity was strong than your own resolve, willing to bend and mold into the shape of those 6 words and a time because you wanted to know the why.

His demand, written with so little grace or gratitude, had been met, when your labored breath fanned across the white doors.

You knocked, because you had manners.

When the white door opened, you came to the realization that nothing, not even a high resolution photo, could do his presence justice.

His head nearly touched the door, soft tufts of brown hair falling wildly, exhaustedly, over his ears. High cheekbones at a sharp angle, hollowing out his cheeks in a faint shadowed line. A mouth that looked gentle, despite its creased frown. The valley of his skin was rough and uneven, granular creases of age digging into the space under his nose, his mouth, his eyes.

They were a deep brown; almost red under the overhead lights, wandering above your head, before looking at you with an intensity that made your swallow hard.

The lab coat and dress shirt were flattering around his shoulders, the cotton molding to his massive gate like elastic. They stiffened at the sight of you, breath heavy and pink cheeked, before he released a sharp sigh when his gaze moved to the clock above your head.

4:02

“You’re late.” That wasn’t a lie.

“You we’re vague.” But that wasn’t either.

“I said my office” he said, stepping to the side, gesturing you to walk in (or, to his office to prove his point, either one made your teeth grit).

You followed his arm in. On his wrist, a patch of discoloration- the bruise yellow in contrast to warm brown.

Strange.

You’re eyes began to make sense of your surroundings. White walls, sparse pictures, a desk, two chairs, two computers, stray wires and scraps.

It was similar to a doctors office- suffocating, boring, unsettling.

“You didn’t say why,” you glanced at one of the only framed papers on the wall, a certificate declaring him as the head of research regarding anti-matter.

You hated to admit it, but his name looked good on paper.

“Miguel.”

You heard his tongue click before he sat down at his desk behind you. “Mr. O’Hara is fine.”

You laughed, turning to him with a sneer. “You’re clinically insane if you think I’m going to refer to you by Mr.”

He motioned for the seat in front of him. You stayed where you were. He narrowed his eyes, “it’s proper etiquette.”

You laughed again. For his arrogance, he was funny. “Don’t talk to me about etiquette. You still haven’t debriefed why I walked a marathon to get to your office.”

We’re you being a little harsh? Absolutely. But people like him, demanding, flippant, who liked to play boss; they used employees (who were just as if not more talented than they were) as their pawns. Employees like you.

You has no issue with the label bitter. It accurately describes your attitude towards most of the head-of’s at Alchemax.

Truthfully, the rise and fall of his shoulders and his rugged edges made you nervous.

But you weren’t a piece of meat in his teeth.

You refused to be the shaking fawn. But you knew you’d never be the wolf sitting across from you.

So you became the hunter willing to shoot both.

He sighed, a harsh sound that vibrated your ribs. “Please just…sit down.”

“I’m fine standing, thanks.”

He rubbed his temples, muttering incoherent Spanish under his breath. “Why must you be so difficult?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but then you felt the air spark.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, fingernails digging into your palms, threatening blood. It was paralyzing, the sudden scent of bleach being replaced by, if it counted, the smell of yellow.

“You’re no fun Miguel, that’s why. She is, though.”

In your paralysis, you found the strength (or bravery) to move you head to your left, eyes fuzzy but alert, in an attempt to place a face to the yellow.

When you did, she was grinning.

You stifled a scream, lodged in your throat, scraping at your tongue, heavy. She giggled, turning upside down.

“Hello there.”

▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂▂︎◣︎◥︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎

“This is my digital assistant, Lyla,” he sighed, “she likes to make an entrance.”

She blinked.

“Holy fuck.” You whispered.

You had finally (reluctantly) took a seat per earlier request, thighs pressed together and, by anxious habit, picking your stray thumb skin. It was loose off your nail, flimsy under your subconscious fidget.

Currently, it was one of the only forms of control you had over the situation. You couldn’t really process if it should feel comforting, or unsettling.

Miguel’s stale gaze made that decision for you.

You cleared your throat.

“Did you make…her?” Now you just felt stupid. The look they both gave you didn’t help.

“Short answer…yes. I made her. But she-“

“I eventually just started updating myself until I became the gorgeous, stunning lady before you!” She said, grinning at you brightly, expectantly. You nodded, cautious.

“I see. So,” you turned to Miguel, “i think if you’re experiencing issues with…” you paused, looking at the hologram. She glitched, and smiled, “Lyla.”

You nodded, again. “Right, Lyla. I won’t be of much help. I’m an engineer, not an A.I expert, so if you need assistance-“

“But you can help!” Lyla flashed in front of you and, startled, your ripped the skin tag clean off.

Ow.

She stood (floated) on the table in front of you. Suddenly, yellow and orange squares appeared around you, and once the glaze of obscurity was blinked away, you realized they were your files.

Your photo, the research in your bag, and the ones you left at your desk. Hell, as you looked closer you noticed school records, family photos and their records.

It all stared back at you, a clarity that made you feel nauseous.

“Listen, kid,” she paused, her glitching body coming to your nose, finally making your vision break from the screens, “I don’t like being in this form anymore than you do. My beautiful mind deserves more than,” she motioned to herself, “this.”

Your mouth felt dry. If you knew where this was going-

“Two years ago,” a small square came to the center, “you worked on a robot. But not just some science fair, miniature, boring robot.”

Her eyes shimmered, brighter than the rest of her body.

“A robot that looked human.”

She scrolled through the article, the one that on release had made you cringe, “given, it was unsuccessful, but it’s detailing, it’s functions, they felt-”

She turned to you, and suddenly all your life disappeared from around your chair, leaving you in the dim light with Lyla’s silhouette.

She glitched, and for a moment you saw the humanity in her yellow. Somewhere, deep within the pixels, she was-.

“Real. I want to be real. And you’re going to help me.”

You paused. “I am?”

She laughed. “Well I hope so!” She threw her arms out, gesturing at the, now gone, files, “you could redeem yourself!”

You’re nose wrinkled. “I don’t need to redeem anything. My work-“

“Was a failure,” you winced, “that article still stains your reputation here at Alchemax, and I’m positive it’s the reason a mind as bright as yours is not higher up here.”

Even if it hurt to hear aloud, the truth always hurts. She was right. That experiment years ago lived and breathed down your neck. Now, you play a desperate game of catch up with the mistake that got a mile ahead of you before you took one step.

You sighed. “Fine. I’ll bite. What do you need me to do.”

“Make me a body.”

You laughed, startled at how simply she put it. “Sorry Lyla- that’s just…well it’s near impossible.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“And I failed, as you so gently pointed out.” You hated how hopeless you sounded when you said it, how you belittled yourself. But once again, the truth hurts.

“But you won’t this time.”

She hovered over your finger tips, smiling gently up at you. “We can help each other. I want a body, and you want a good reputation. If you build this for me…”

“We both win.” You finished.

She grinned. “Exactly.”

You groaned, your head falling to look at your lap. Your thumb still throbbed at the place you picked at your skin, the pinkish flesh stinging in the stale air. You wondered why Lyla wanted this- the fragility and the vulnerability that came with being…alive.

It was fleeting and it was calloused, a worn down tapestry that kept the face of agony and regret painfully clear, even as the rest of its body faded with time and age.

But you supposed, that there was a beauty in it. An untouched phenomenon- life wasn’t permanent, but it was special.

The grass is greener on the other side.

“Alright.”

Lyla laughed, leaping up to your nose.

“So you’ll help?”

“Yes. But what’s the catch.”

Her head tilted.

Your gaze moved to Miguel.

Despite his silence throughout this whole discussion, his analytic stare did not move from your face. It dug into your skin, his silence louder than any roar he could conjure. It’s animosity overwhelmed your skull, making the words that left your clenched throat hoarse and weak.

“What’s the catch.”

His chest rumbled in what you (hoped) believed to be a sigh, shouldered slumping. “You can’t…tell anyone during the process. You’ll be paid, but it’s classified information. No one can know what your doing.”

You almost stood up and left.

There wasn’t any pride, any joy in your work unless there was credit. Of course, scientific and engineering discoveries weren’t fueled by the promise of history, but you were a fool if you believed it wasn’t part of the process.

Michelangelo didn’t paint the Sistine Chapel to have people simply walk under his ceiling.

He wanted them to break their own necks to admire it.

But, a part of you hesitated.

Maybe the slow game was smarter. To become Miguel O’Hara’s colleague, to mold and shape and sculpt under shadows. Until your own masterpiece, much too alive to dust in an old museum, was revealed to an open skies and wonderstruck audience.

You felt guilty, doing this for your own gain rather than the goodness of your heart. But they knew who they hired. They knew it was a consensual abuse of power from both sides.

They knew that status would always taste sweeter than empathy.

You stuck out your hand.

“Deal.”

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parт 2 ⇁︎

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attichaos · 1 year

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Colour Magick Correspondences & Ideas

*longer read*

Pretty easily applied for both beginner, closet and experienced practitioners alike! Can be used in most areas of mundane and magickal life (with some ideas listed below).

White

→ Cleansing, clarity, blessing, healing, innocence, truth, connection to spirits or the spiritual world, divine connection, consecration, dream work, psychic connection, purity, rest, moon magic, angelic work, devotion, harmony, prayer, peace, purification, universal truths. White can also be used as an all-purpose color for your intention when the color you want is not available.

Black

→ Banishing, transformation, uncrossing, endings, domination, protection, reversing, repulsion, freedom from evil, cursing, cloaking, sophistication, security, emotional safety, closure, breaking patterns, grief, mourning, absorbing, removing, trapping, encasing, the unconscious, mystery, shielding from the evil eye, *similarly to white - as black is an absence of colour it can be used for any colour if you don’t have them available* - personal opinion

Red

→ Passionate love, energy, action, attraction, sexuality, magnetism, will, force, anger, fire within, courage, warmth, lust, drive, pleasure, vitality, vigor, excitement, desire.

Orange

→ New opportunities, new ventures, new beginnings, change of plans, encouragement, opening the way, removing blocks, physical comfort, warmth, security, ambition, creativity, courage, optimism.

Yellow

-> Optimism, prosperity, happiness, good luck, attraction, success, confidence, visibility, fame, self-esteem, communication, concentration, focus, inspiration, intellect, logic, memory, knowledge, learning.

Green

→ Prosperity, abundance, wealth, generosity, money luck, career, growth, fertility, gambling luck, business, a good job, harmony, balance, healing, self-love, altruism, universal love, contact with fae and nature spirits.

Blue

→ Reconciliation, harmony, peace, kindness, healing, ideas, intelligence, wisdom, loyalty, sleep, meditation, communication, creativity, dream work, trust, blessings, calm, forgiveness, truth, bliss, inspiration, fidelity, honesty.

Purple

→ Healing, calming, tranquility, spirituality, meditation, pacification, cooperation, sensitivity, compassion, empathy, selflessness, empowerment, controlling, commanding, mastery, power, ambition, achievement, charisma, luxury, expansion, psychic ability, spirituality, authenticity, truth, transformation, insight, justice, wisdom, politics, divination, ESP, intuition, wishes, influence.

Pink

→ Romantic love, friendship, soul mates, sweet feelings, emotional healing, heart connection, affection, family love, admiration, physical tranquility, nurturing, warmth, youthfulness, healing grief, compassion, forgiveness, beauty, unconditional love.

Brown

→ Justice, balance, grounding, court cases, legal matters, being down-to-earth, practical matters, seriousness, reliability, support, stability, safety, earth, nature, animals, home, nostalgia, basic needs being met, balance.

Grey

→ Neutrality, neutralizing, invisibility, working in “gray areas,” anonymity, hiding from others, working in-between worlds, secrets, occult and arcane wisdom, reversing, uncovering mysteries and secrets, lifting curses, undoing prior spell work.

Silver

→ Dreams, intuition, psychic work, courtesy, honor, moon magic, rhythm, cycles, divination, illusions, glamour spells, wisdom.

Gold

→ Prosperity, fame, luxury, generosity, optimism, wisdom, enlightenment, victory, sun magic, confidence, life force, power, attraction, magnetism, vigor, charisma.

*highly recommend Madame Pamita’s Book of Candle Magic - covers colour magic especially in relation to spell work with candles.

Ideas

→ candle magick

→ glamour magick - also wearing/makeup using a colour which corresponds to the property you desire (good for closet witches)

→ sigil magick

→ craft magick

→ kitchen witchery - eg. Putting a specific colour food dye in a cake or drink etc

(Essentially anything you want!)

Merry meet,

Atti <3

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felassan · 1 year

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N7 Day 2022: On the Next Mass Effect -

"Since we last spoke about the next Mass Effect™ game, pre-production development has been proceeding very well. The team, comprised of Mass Effect franchise veterans as well as some amazing new additions to BioWare™, has grown steadily! They’ve been hard at work crafting new characters and locations that you’ll love, as well as revisiting many that you’ll remember.

This year, we wanted you to meet some of the people leading that work, so we’re putting a spotlight on four of the team’s leads for you to get to know a little better. With every game we make, pairing new talent with veteran developers has provided us with fresh perspectives and ideas, not to mention skills and experiences built from across the industry.

One day, when we’re ready, we’ll have more to share on the next Mass Effect, so thank you for being a part of this journey with us. It’s exceptionally exciting for the team and we’d love to continue sharing glimpses of what we’re working on with you in the future.

As our team on the next Mass Effect game celebrates today with you, they wanted to leave you with one final message from the Project Director of the next Mass Effect game, Mike Gamble:

In the nearly 15 years since the release of the first Mass Effect, the biggest reason we still love working on it is the warmth, dedication, and passion of this community. There are some of you who have been with us through everything. We’ve grown together, sacrificed Ashley together, (Editor’s Note: Or Kaidan, Mike! We all make different choices.) faced difficulties together…and laughed until our Faces Were Tired…together! And for those of you who are new to Mass Effect (thanks, Legendary Edition!), welcome! I can promise that many years of fun, adventures, and characters you’ll fall in love with are still ahead.

Regardless of when you joined us, through four games and more expansions, I can say with certainty that we’re in this because of you, and every N7 Day is a wonderful reminder of that. As we look forward, each week is a fun and exciting challenge for the team. We love bringing this universe to life, and although there’s much more we want to share with you, that’ll have to be for another time.

For now, there is something we want you to have a look at. We’ve intercepted some strange footage from one of the monitoring stations in known space. It could be nothing, but…"

[source]

#bioware #mass effect #next mass effect #video games #mj best of

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what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me · 5 months

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I’m the #1 “Meta Knight can cook” truther btw. Before I even knew that the English dub of the anime changed the scene completely from a serious moment about war making Sword and Blade envious of domestic lives to a scene making fun of Meta Knight’s cooking, I still denied the idea that he is helpless with food.

I like to think that Meta Knight is a alien and (because of implications in the anime) he has visited many, many planets in the past. He has learned the cooking methods and techniques and recipes of ten different alien civilizations. Possibly even more.

When traveling in deep space on the Halberd for months, he does not always got to choose the food he resupplies with. They do not have the luxury of going “oh I want a apple” when visiting a market ten galaxies away from the Gamble Galaxy. ESPECIALLY since many fruit and veg from the Gamble Galaxy is prohibited from trade in fear that blights like Dark Matter will spread through trade. It is VITAL to the survival of himself and his crew to have a expansive knowledge about alien foods.

He is a renowned culinary genius on Bleepy Star because he figured out how to make the Blorpy Blink Fruit edible and it solved world hunger on that planet. This guy has eaten many alien meats and fruits and slimes and he has also figured out how to make the best desserts from those ingredients too.

However. Meta Knight’s VERY alien taste in food and his very, very out of this world method of cooking makes Popstar residents who have never had off-planet food question what Meta Knight is doing. They genuinely think he can not cook. Everyone on Popstar is genuinely convinced he is a shit cook. When they learned that Meta Knight has never seen a humble wooden spoon (wood is a commodity rarer than diamonds in the universe) but he still insists he can cook, they just think it is denial born out of pride.

Dedede genuinely thought Meta Knight had the worst taste in food until he had dinner with an alien monarch who made the king consider that food outside of Popstar exists.

Meta Knight honestly thinks that Popstar residents have a just okay taste in food, and he often misses the taste of food from beyond this star. However, he will admit that the fruit and dessert on Popstar might be the finest he has tried yet.

This isn’t to say that you can’t have hcs about MK being a complete cooking failure, those are great!! I just love to think beyond “haha funny” sometimes, and think about it in relation to my personal world building! Also it’s funny to imagine that Meta takes everyone on a off-planet trip and they are shocked when his signature inedible slop turns out to be a famous dish across several galaxies.

#snappy speaks #kirby #meta knight #everyone is so convinced Meta Knight is the worst cook ever #it’s like an alien telling Gordon Ramsay that everything he makes is inedible #and to me that’s funnier than MK not being able to cook. personally.

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theharrowing · 7 months

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Devil with the Mint Hair 🍃 3: Pretty good

His pull out game is strong but your hatred for him is stronger.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🍃 Yoongi x Female Reader

🍃 word count: 7.7k

🍃 enemies to fuck buddies, brother’s best friend, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+

🍃 warnings: alcohol consumption (mc is tipsy); talk of hiring sex workers; mention of masturbation with sex toys; mention of Yoongi fucking Jimin; use of "baby girl" & "submissive little fuck doll"; mc is a brat; dirty talk and filthy smut (safe word establishment; mc does not get undressed; hair gripping - no description of hair style or length; being handled roughly - pushed around, gripped by head and throat; face slapping; rough, messy blow job & face fucking; a lot of drool; spitting; rough sex; pussy slapping; cunnilingus, fingering, & ass eating; multiple orgasms; overstimulation); they do not kiss once; post-nut regret; possibly catching a feeling??? (lol, as if.)

🍃 note: this scene takes place in America and there is a brief interaction with a bartender but i didn't specify what language anyone is speaking or where these characters live because it seems very unimportant for a fic like this lol. i know nobody is here for the scraps of plot.

🍃 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🍃 posted oct. 2023 | read on ao3

The summer sun is hot and oppressive, and you sit under the awning of a poolside bar, hair dripping from taking a swim, with a towel around your hips, waiting impatiently for the bartender to return with a blended margarita – desperate for the inevitable brain freeze, if it means you get to cool down.

Why your brother chose to celebrate his September birthday in Las Vegas, of all places, is beyond you, and you try your hardest not to melt against the high bar chair and its tiny little wooden seat back. You only agreed to come because he is your brother, and you would never miss his birthday for the world.

And you assumed that he and the guys would be so busy gambling and going to strip clubs – and whatever else men in their twenties do – that you would not get stuck running into a certain someone too much, despite foolishly agreeing to meet up, should the possibility arise. And you were right, for the most part.

Night one consisted of dinner and drinks, and then the guys went off to various casinos on the strip to test their luck. You meandered through your hotel's casino, cradling a drink while taking in all the sights and sounds, ultimately becoming both underwhelmed and overwhelmed, and retiring to your room to sink into the jacuzzi tub.

The following day, the guys slept in late while you went to breakfast, and then you joined them for some day drinking and a walk along the strip. And although your sworn enemy did make an appearance each time, with your brother around, he barely acknowledged your presence – something that you have found to be both a relief and somewhat infuriating.

He has also been preoccupied with a pretty boy with bright orange hair named Jimin, and you find yourself wondering, whenever you see him, whether he is the hookup your enemy mentioned to you over text.

Not that you want that devil to acknowledge you, nor do you want to care about who he fucks – after the stunt he pulled the last time you saw him, you find it impossible to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds. But it still feels strange to be ignored by someone who made you cum so hard – a thought that makes you cringe.

You surmise that the guys had a long night at the strip club because it is almost noon, and you have not heard from your brother. Today has been set aside as a sleep-in-and-recharge day, anyway, so you have no plans until dinner, which is how you came to be at the large outdoor pool, perched at the bar without the expectation of running into anyone. Perhaps you should have rethought your plan and gone to someone else's expansive outdoor pool, but now is not the time for weighing the could-have-beens.

Once the bright blue drink in a tall, curvy glass is set before you, you sit high in your seat, smiling as you take hold of the chilled glass and wrap your lips around the neon pink straw, sucking in the ice-cold concoction that sends a shiver down your spine with a flavor that you can only describe as boozy blue.

"God, that's good," you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back with joy and lolling your head as a frigid rush works its way through your body, aided by your damp bathing suit.

"Damn," a familiar voice rasps from behind, making you jump, "what do they put in those things?"

You don't need to turn to see that Yoongi has sat to your right, but you do, quickly taking in his naked torso and black swim shorts before turning your attention back to your drink, putting the straw between your lips and noting that he is dressed to swim but still dry.

As much as you try to ignore his presence, you can feel Yoongi's eyes on you, and you do your best to ignore the way your skin has broken into goosebumps and your face warms. You do not like him, and you hate how your body responds to his presence.

Yoongi drawls a petulant, "Wow, not even gonna say hi to me, huh?"

You roll your eyes, take a deep, chilling sip of blue, and turn your attention toward him, doing your best to appear wholly inconvenienced. Then, with wide, incredulous eyes and a fake smile, you say, "Hi, Yoongi," as sarcastically as possible.

Yoongi snickers, then opens his mouth to retaliate, but the bartender returns and asks if he would like something, forcing his attention away as he points to your drink and says, "I'll have whatever that is."

The bartender cheerily says, "Blue raspberry margarita, coming right up!" and walks off.

Yoongi turns his attention back to you to mutter, "Sounds mildly horrifying; I can't wait," with a grin.

Feeling annoyed and disinterested in whatever this man is playing at, you blurt, "Why are you here, Yoongi?"

"My best friend's birthday," Yoongi responds, running a hand through his short, mint-green hair, and sounding bored. "Why else?"

You sigh and roll your eyes, then focus on stabbing the pink straw into your blue drink. "I mean here, sitting next to me. There are other bars out here, and hundreds more along the strip. Shouldn’t you be preoccupied by that orange-haired guy who clings to you, instead?”

When Yoongi asks, "Why wouldn't I want to be here, sitting next to you?” his voice is much lower and much closer than you expect, and you flinch, turning your sights back to him.

Yoongi leans on the bar top, elbow only inches away, and his gaze is piercing. Only a small floral bikini top covers your upper half, and your leg sticks out from the slit in your towel enough that when Yoongi's gaze roves slowly and hungrily over your body, you feel exposed. Anxiety crashes through you, but so does arousal, and you clear your throat and take another frozen sip.

“And anyway,” Yoongi continues the moment you turn away, “Jimin is still asleep, and likely will be for several more hours.”

The bartender returns and sets Yoongi's drink before him, and you watch from the corner of your eye as his nimble, long fingers delicately cradle the glass and slide it toward himself. He sits forward, takes a sip, and then grumbles out something unintelligible under the sound of your pounding heart.

"Hmm?" you ask, turning your attention to him.

"Not as orgasmic as you made it seem, but not too bad."

With another roll of your eyes, you mutter, "You are so annoying."

Truth be told, sitting out here with Yoongi is not as bad as you would have thought. Perhaps it is because he is holding back from leaning too far into your personal space and wearing you down – likely because the two of you are surrounded by others, and there is a slight chance that your brother or one of the other guys could come find the two of you. Or, perhaps the dry Vegas heat is making you too worn out both physically and emotionally to care.

Yoongi hums, and you turn your attention toward him without fully looking at him, continuing to suck at your melting drink. One thing you will give Vegas credit for is even these shitty slushies are potent enough that you are already feeling a little tipsy.

"You seem calm today," Yoongi muses. "Did you also bring back an escort last night? Get the stress fucked out of you?"

Everything Yoongi says hits you like several small trucks, and you open and close your mouth, attempting to begin several sentences but feeling at a loss for which detail to hone in on. Finally, you settle on the most obvious bit and ask, "Escort? What?"

Yoongi laughs, and it sounds almost mocking and sardonic, so you look at him, finding him chewing on his bright yellow straw with a lopsided smile. "Why do you think the guys are so worn out? I've been keeping them busy."

"You've…what?"

Another laugh, but this one comes from the guts, deep and amused. "What? We're in Vegas, baby girl! Gotta make sure to give the guys the full experience."

"You're lying," you mutter, straw wedged between your teeth, doing your best not to respond to the sound of him calling you baby girl out loud.

Has Yoongi really been hiring sex workers to stay with the guys? All the while you've been using a vibrator and feeling too small in your gigantic suite. You have nothing against the notion of sex work, but knowing that your brother…a violent shudder runs through you as you attempt to shut out the thought.

"Ha, come on, do you really think I would lie about something like this? We found a fun little club not too far from here, and the guys took a liking to some of the dancers. Once we found out the girls can be rented for the night, that was that."

"Wow," is all you can mutter, because what else do you add? Must be nice? Thanks for the invite? Nothing feels appropriate. And anyway, what if Yoongi is lying?

"And what's the name of your favorite girl?" you ask, attempting to play it cool, taking another deep sip of blue before turning your eyes to Yoongi, whose gaze is firm.

The way he regards you is unyielding, and you squirm in your seat, finding it hard to hold eye contact. Somehow this is the most civil conversation you have ever had with Yoongi in person, and you find yourself nearly charmed by his presence. That is, until you recall how he showed up at your door knowing full well that your brother was not home so he could smoke you out and pressure you into rough sex on your bedroom floor, of all fucking places.

And you almost break the spell and let your anger rise, feeling the sudden urge to chug back your drink and get the fuck away from this demon. But you cannot deny the way he made you feel, and you would be lying if you said you would not want to feel it again, especially after agreeing to hook up if the opportunity presented itself. It seems as if it has, in fact, done just that.

Although you are at war with your thoughts and not fully set on running off, you do slurp more than half of the remnants of your drink, which goes down easy now that it has more or less melted into a boozy syrup.

"Well?" you challenge, curious what kinds of escorts Yoongi has been bringing back to his room. You wonder if they like it just as rough as you do.

Yoongi tongues the inside of his mouth, then chuckles. "Nah, I haven't been partaking. Only supplying."

At this, you roll your eyes, once more. Why is Yoongi suddenly acting like a prude? "Sure, okay," you say incredulously.

"I'm serious!" Yoongi insists, making you laugh more.

"There's nothing wrong with hiring sex workers, Yoongi," you say with raised eyebrows, almost defensively.

"I fucking know that," he bites back, "I'm the one hiring them!"

"Okay, then—"

"Why would I need to hire someone? You're right down the hall."

Now you know he is fucking with you, and you hate to admit it, but it makes you annoyed – a little upset, even. If Yoongi has been preoccupying the guys, why hasn’t he shown up at your door? He must be messing with you.

"Shut the fuck up," you grit with your straw between your teeth before sucking the rest of your drink back. The straw gurgles loudly against the bottom of the glass as you angrily seek every last drop of tequila and blue.

"I'm serious," Yoongi responds, close.

When you regard him, he looks serious, but you are certain that he must be toying with you, and you begin to slide from the tall chair to the ground, stretching your toes to meet the rough gunite while your shifting weight makes the chair scrape loudly backward.

There is laughter in Yoongi's voice when he asks, "Wait, where are you going?"

You sigh and stare at Yoongi's half-empty drink rather than at himself, contemplating how much you even want to reveal. You do not have feelings for him, for one thing, but you are also not sure whether he has just been messing with you and lying about wanting to hook up again. It almost feels like you are the butt of some joke.

"I'm not going to sit here and be made fun of," you say, pointedly not meeting his gaze before you turn to walk back into the hotel.

"Wait," Yoongi says, and before you have a chance to register the word, his hand is on your arm, tugging you back. "There has definitely been a misunderstanding."

You are surprised to find that Yoongi is standing, and now that you are on your feet, the alcohol hits you at once, spinning you somewhat off your axis as you twist out of Yoongi's hold and frown at his eager expression. You stumble slightly back on flip-flopped feet and straighten out, giving him your best glare.

"Look, I'm not interested in your games, okay? I know you enjoy being an asshole for fun, so cut the shit, Yoongi."

Yoongi actually looks a bit upset before he schools his features and scoffs, taking a step back and reaching for his drink. He shrugs, then mutters, "Fine, be a fucking brat."

The whiplash is astounding, and you stand your ground while trying to figure out just what the fuck is going on. Yoongi sucks his cheeks in to finish the last of his tequila syrup, then he walks past you with an air of nonchalance that makes you turn on your toes and follow him in a huff. You were going to have the last word; who does he think he is?

As the two of you approach the open door of the hotel, Yoongi turns to glance over his shoulder and scoffs. "What? Tagging along so you can bitch at me in the elevator?"

"Oh, fuck off," you respond louder than necessary now that the two of you are in the crowded carpeted hallway and the raucous sounds of the pool are quieted behind concrete and glass. "I'm going back to my room."

"Sure you don't want to come back to mine?" Yoongi asks over his shoulder as you round a corner into a nearly empty hallway, walking deeper into the hotel.

"What?" you all but shout.

"Oh, come on," he laughs, turning to walk backward just long enough to say, "I saw how jealous you got over the prospect of me fucking someone else, despite knowing full well that I do fuck someone else, regularly. Regardless, the guys are all asleep, which means an opportunity has presented itself."

"I was not—" you begin as his gaze rakes down your body, and he turns back around.

"Admit it," Yoongi drawls, taking a corner to the left into a small elevator lobby with eight gold doors. He presses a call button, then turns to fully face you. "You can't get me out of your head, can you? I've been watching you sneak glances all weekend, baby girl; you're a terrible actor."

How can one man be so exasperating? As you wait for one of the elevators to get close, you stare up at the lights above the nearest one, hoping that by some chance two of them open so that you are not stuck in a compact square carriage with him.

But as one of the elevators behind you dings, and not a single person joins you inside, you realize all too soon that you are trapped with him, and only him. Yoongi steps in first and holds his hand in front of the door to keep it from closing, and you slide into the small space and step into the furthest corner from him, staring at the gold doors as they close, then watching in the peripheral as Yoongi hits the number 32 – the floor you both stay on.

"So?" Yoongi drawls, causing your entire body to break out in goosebumps – though you reason it is likely from your bathing suit still being damp and has nothing to do with that demon's deep, inviting voice.

"So, what?" you bite back, staring up at the little screen above the button panel that flashes with which floor it passes.

"You gonna come to my room and let us both have what we want, or what? Nice and rough, just like you asked for.”

With a scoff, you cross your arms over your chest, attempting to find warmth and to cover how hard your nipples are under your bathing suit top. Yoongi steps closer, and in this enclosed space, you can smell hints of musk and cologne, and maybe something sweet, like a lingering trace of shampoo or a body wash.

"Or maybe we should go to yours," he suggests, deep and quiet. "Your room is further from the others…don't need any of them hearing you screaming my name while I tame the brat out of you."

"You are insufferable," you grit under your breath, though your words do not sound as firm as you would like.

Yoongi hums and steps impossibly closer, then says, "I know you can't stop thinking about me, baby girl. Just give in."

As soon as the elevator dings and the gold doors slide open, he side steps far away from you, giving you space to exit and begin the hurried trek toward your room. From the elevator lobby, yours is to the left and down a little, whereas the group of rooms the guys are staying in are just off to the right. If you did let Yoongi fuck you – which you are not – doing so in your room would be the wiser of the two choices.

You round the corner to the left and walk quickly down to your door. To your chagrin, Yoongi's flip flops smack behind you, and you sigh and let your head droop back, feeling too tipsy and maybe a little too horny to be allowing him to come to your room. You reach your door and fish your key from where it's wedged between your towel and hip, then turn and scowl, looking over Yoongi's shoulder to make sure nobody else is in the hallway to see the two of you together.

"Go back to your room, Yoongi," you say. Your heart pounds the closer he gets, and you do your best to keep your eyes on his face, but he is shirtless, and he looks really good with his lean but defined muscles on display.

"Is that really what you want?" he asks, stopping a foot away and leaning into the wall.

"Yes!" you whisper-yell, insistent. You glance over his shoulder once more, then say, "The last thing I want is to get caught with you."

Yoongi's face brightens, and you know in an instant that you have fucked up. "Oh, so you do want me to fuck your brains out, but you're worried about getting caught?"

"That's not—"

Yoongi raises an eyebrow and does not wait for you to finish your sentence, drawling, "I think it is. You already said as much over text."

Although your hand is lifted halfway to the key scanner, it is too far for it to detect the key and allow you entrance. You raise your eyebrows and use the hand holding the key to wave him off, muttering, "Shoo! Get the fuck out of here. I don't want to be seen with you."

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, grabs your hand, and forces you to hold the key against the scanner, then reaches with his other hand to open the door and shove the two of you inside. Everything happens in a flash, and you barely have a chance to get your bearings, muttering, "Yoongi, what the f—" as you are ushered into the entrance of your hotel room, and Yoongi is closing the door behind the two of you.

"Nobody can see us in here," Yoongi says as he steps out of his sandals and walks into your room, adding, "problem solved," over his shoulder.

Your hotel room is fairly tidy, with only a few small sprawling piles of clothing and beauty products here and there. But you definitely left a dildo and vibrator lying tangled in the sheets of the bed from toying yourself last night, and you kick out of your sandals and scurry over to the bed, hoping to get to them before Yoongi sees them, finding him holding the small purple bullet vibrator between his fingers.

"Naughty girl," Yoongi teases when you come into view, and you can hear him clicking on the power button multiple times to make the buzzing louder and stronger.

"Put that down," you insist, closing the space between the two of you and reaching for it.

"Let me use this on you," Yoongi mutters, dropping his arm down and brushing the vibrating toy over your thigh, right in between the slit of the towel.

"Yoongi!" you yelp, hopping backward and reaching for his arm, but Yoongi just grins and holds the toy behind his back, flexing his arm as you attempt to yank on it.

"Please," Yoongi asks softly, flashing a lopsided smile, and you shove at his chest and walk away, determined to put space between the two of you.

Given how fast Yoongi can make you cum, the prospect of him fucking you while using your toy does excite you, but it also worries you. This man would turn you into a pile of mush in no time. Luckily, he turns the toy off and tosses it back onto your bed, toward the pillows.

“We need to establish boundaries,” you say, walking over to a long mirror near the front entrance of the room to check your reflection. Although you appear tired from a combination of tipsiness, heat, and genuine exhaustion, you look good enough to let this demon perceive you.

When you turn back to Yoongi, he is sitting on the corner of your bed, arms relaxed at his sides, waiting for you to continue.

“Things like hitting, spitting, and hair-pulling are fine, but I get to tell you to stop if it becomes too much.”

“We’ll establish a safe word,” Yoongi says.

A thrill rushes over you as you consider what your safe word could be, and you formulate an idea, unable to hold back from grinning. Yoongi must take notice, because he sits higher, raising his eyebrows curiously.

“The guy with the orange hair,” you say, approaching Yoongi, whose eyes widen as you speak, “is he your regular hookup?”

Yoongi smiles sharply, then nods his head slightly as he says, “He is.”

“And he knows you plan to fuck me? Or are you doing it behind his back?”

Yoongi’s smile turns wide and playful. “He knows.”

“Hmm,” you respond, stepping close enough that he could reach out and touch you. “My safe word is Jimin.”

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, then sits back, placing his palms against the white comforter on the bed. “Really?”

You chuckle as you nod and say, “Yup.”

“You’re going to scream Jimin’s name if you want me to slow down or stop?”

“Correct.”

Yoongi laughs, clearly amused, then he nods and says, “Alright. Works for me. Any other boundaries? Things you’re not into?”

Truthfully, at this moment, there is nothing you can think of. So you shrug and say, “Nothing as of now…but I’ll tell you if that changes.”

“You’ll moan my hookup’s name if you change your mind,” Yoongi mutters with a smirk.

“Yup.”

Yoongi rolls his shoulders and then sits up straight before slowly beginning to stand. You take a step back, feeling nervousness sink in over the fact that this is really happening, especially with the way Yoongi stands tall with his shoulders square and his expression flat.

“Repeat your safe word for me,” Yoongi commands.

“Jimin,” you respond, much softer than intended.

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth rises for a split second, then he squints as if he is disgusted by what he sees. Instinctively, you take another step back.

Yoongi is quick as a serpent, hand snapping up to grip onto your jaw and make you gasp – startling you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks in a sharp snarl.

Although you move your lips, all you are able to mutter is vowels, unsure what to say.

“You’re mine, baby girl. You don’t so much as move unless I command it.”

Although you are aware that your safe word negates his statement, your heart thrums heavily behind your ribs at the idea of being at Yoongi’s mercy. You told him you wanted it rough – wanted it to hurt – and now that you stand before him, trepidation sinks deep.

Yoongi continues to grip firmly to your chin while his free hand rips the towel from around your hips and chucks it to the side, making you gasp and flinch. The bikini you wear is small and still a bit damp, and you shiver as the air hits your bare thighs and tummy. Your breaths are heavy, causing a quick rise and fall of your chest, and you already feel a bit dazed from being handled his way.

“Look at you,” Yoongi growls with a sharp, hungry gaze, lips upturned. “You can talk all the shit you want about how much you hate me, but I can see the way you want me, baby girl."

His grasp on your jaw is firm, and when he begins to pull his arm back, toward the bed, you step with him, moving slowly as his body rotates. Yoongi smirks razor-sharp, eyes burning with excitement, and you hate how absolutely right he is. You want him real bad.

"Wanna choke on my cock while sitting on the bed, or down on your knees?" Yoongi asks, leaning nice and close, wafting warm, sugar-sweet breath into your face.

"On the bed," you mutter, voice hoarse and weak.

Yoongi grips your jaw ever so slightly, then pushes you down into the bed, causing you to gasp and scramble as you keep from sliding off the edge, hands gripping onto the white comforter.

"Not eager to get back onto the floor with me?" he chides, but all you can do is stare upward as he looms over you, fingers working the velcro fly of his black swim shorts.

Yoongi wastes no time pushing his shorts to the floor, revealing a half-hard and inviting cock. Last time, you hardly got a good look at him, but this time, it is all you see as Yoongi grips onto the back of your hair and yanks you forward, practically shoving himself against your lips.

"Don't be shy, baby girl," Yoongi groans, using his other hand to gently squeeze your throat. You look up at Yoongi without tilting your head, greeted by a dark stare that gives you chills as he adds, "Let's see what that pretty, bratty fucking mouth of yours can do."

With a deep, fortifying breath, you sit high on the bed, hands still gripping the comforter, and you run your tongue over the shaft, just below his cockhead. His skin is smooth with a faint soapy smell, and you let your eyes flutter as your lips close over the head, wetting the skin.

"We don't have all fucking day," Yoongi practically growls as he presses your head close to his pelvis.

With a snarl, you glance up through your lashes, saying, "We quite literally do have all day," lips still pressed against him. In a show of brattiness, you add, "So do you want it, or are you going to keep being an asshole?"

Yoongi releases the hand on your hair and slaps you against the cheek. It is not hard enough to sting, but it is enough to make you gasp, eyes wide as you let the slight tingle settle over your skin. Although you would ordinarily be ready to fight a man for slapping you, in this setting, it excites you – makes you want to act like even more of a pain in his ass.

"Too far?" Yoongi asks, expression still hard but with a hint of softness hiding around the edges.

If this were anyone else, you would bat your lashes and tell him you liked it – that it felt exciting enough to set a spark in you that is threatening to light a proper fire. But this is Yoongi, so you scoff and say, "I didn't call my safe word, did I?"

Yoongi chuckles in response with the edge of his mouth tugging into a sharp sneer. Then he slaps you again, this time hard enough to sting, and he grips your throat and tugs you against him, forcing your forehead to crash against his tummy while the head of his cock presses into your lips and teeth.

"Suck my fucking dick or I'm leaving," he commands.

With a roll of your eyes, you grumble, "So moody."

You can hear the beginning of a response, but you open wide and swallow Yoongi as far as you can take him, letting the tip lightly touch your throat. Yoongi groans, tightening his grip on your neck before relaxing it while the other firmly grabs the back of your head.

Without warning, Yoongi bucks his hips, thrusting deep. You gag, but not badly enough to have to pull off, swallowing the feeling while he pulls back and thrusts forward again. And again, pulling out, slamming deep, and pulling out, clearly not setting a rhythm so much as testing your limits.

You lift your hands and settle them on his hips, surprised by how soft his skin feels beneath your fingertips, and when he pulls back again, you take in a deep enough breath through your nose. Although Yoongi is forceful, his grip on you is loose – a small mercy considering you are already drooling and beginning to cry.

"Damn, baby girl, your throat feels amazing," Yoongi rasps, voice coming out surprisingly desperate.

As he sets a pace, you settle into the pattern of breathing in time with his thrusts, and Yoongi continues to hold onto your head and neck while he fucks your face. Although you have given a sloppy blow job or two in the past, this is the first time you have allowed someone to be in control.

Tears catch in your eyelashes and fall, and you glance up, watching as Yoongi grits his teeth and knits his brow, clearly holding himself back from losing some semblance of control – whether it is the urge to fuck harder or to cum already, you can only presume.

When his eyes meet yours, he moans, allowing his eyelids to flutter, causing your strong foundation of hating his fucking guts to crumble just a little. Yoongi looks sexy while falling apart, sweat glistening on his shoulders and chest, which rise and fall with each breath he takes.

"You have no idea how fucking good this feels," Yoongi mutters, hissing as his cock presses in nice and deep, causing thick drool to build.

The sounds that come from you are wet and pornographic, forced from your throat. You attempt to hum in response to his praise, but the sound is garbled and lost. Not that he needs to hear your sweet utterances, anyway; what would that do for his ego?

When Yoongi pulls all the way out, it surprises you. You lurch slightly, your mouth following the movement while your lungs attempt to adjust to a full intake of air. Yoongi moves his hand from the back of your head and slaps you across the cheek, making you whimper.

Drool coats your lips and chin, tears streak down your cheeks, and the way Yoongi looks down at you is practically reverent. You wonder what he could possibly be thinking – Min Yoongi does not look at you like that.

Thankfully, in a blink, the expression is gone, replaced by something much sharper. Yoongi reaches down and yanks at your swim top, forcing your breasts to spill in a jerking motion. Too stunned to respond, you sit while Yoongi roughly palms at your chest, calloused hands against soft, sensitive skin.

Yoongi squeezes and slaps your breasts, giving your nipples a pinch with one alternating hand while he continues holding you firmly by the throat. You do your best not to react too loudly, huffing and sighing without moaning; you want Yoongi to really work to get a reaction out of you. With how cocky he is, you expect he will have no trouble doing so.

Without warning, Yoongi shoves you onto your back, fully releasing you, and sending you crashing against the comforter. You scramble, legs spreading as you lift one in an attempt to get into any position that might be useful, but Yoongi bends and grabs your ass, yanking it off the edge of the bed and pressing in a way that lifts your hips slightly, causing your legs to flail and spread. He yanks your swimsuit bottom to the side, bends just enough to spit on you, and then he rubs the tip of his dick against the spit, over your clit and labia before he spears you nice and deep.

The stretch makes you cry out and squeeze your eyes tight, gripping the comforter and attempting to find a position to hold your legs. Yoongi presses and slightly twists you so that one leg is bent and somewhat hanging downward and the other is lifted high in the air, and he sets a brutal pace, fucking you hard and deep before you can wrap your head around anything.

"Holy fuck!" you scream, pleasure-pain so intense, you struggle to breathe.

"So tight," Yoongi moans, pressing his weight into you even more, making your leg muscles burn and ache.

All you can do is lay and take what Yoongi gives you, doing your best to relax your muscles while he fucks you harder and better than anyone has before. You said you wanted it rough, and you are not disappointed. With each deep thrust, you chase your high quickly.

Yoongi reaches with one hand and roughly rubs over your clit, giving your pussy gentle slaps that send you hurtling over the edge. Your moans turn into sobs, back bowing from the bed as you build and build and then crash.

"That's it, baby girl," Yoongi grits, fingers working your clit in more practiced movements. "Show me how fast I can make you cum."

"Sh-sh-shut up," you grumble, head digging back into the comforter. Orgasm washes over you, threatening to drown you in its undertow, and you sob and moan, hands tensing and releasing as your legs tremble at their awkward angles.

Yoongi pulls all the way out before you finish, shoving your legs down and forcing you to roll over. You move in a haphazard tangle of limbs, your body both shimmering from its high and feeling unfulfilled.

As you get onto your stomach, you drag-crawl up the bed just enough to prevent your knees from hanging uncomfortably, glad when the bed dips and Yoongi follows you. Both hands grip your ass cheeks, pulling the material of your bathing suit and causing the fabric to dig into your skin.

Yoongi slides back in and presses his hands firmly on your ass and lower back, pinning you down while his thrusts make the mattress bounce. You feel dizzy as Yoongi fucks you deep, and when he moves his hands to anchor beside your hips, you bounce even harder.

One hand presses down on the side of your head and pushes your face into the mattress, and although it does not hurt, the pressure is enough to make you feel almost floaty and perfectly used. You are so close to cuming again, and when Yoongi leans low, warm breath ghosting over your face, you close your eyes.

"This rough enough for you?" he asks, voice raspy and enticing.

You practically scream yes and divulge just how good he makes you feel – how you will likely never be fucked this good by anyone else. But you choose to hold onto the praise for another day.

"It's pretty good," you manage to mutter between unrelenting slaps of skin against skin.

Yoongi scoffs. "Pretty good," he grits, mostly to himself.

Then he spits on the side of your mouth, causing you to scowl. Yoongi removes the hand from your head and rubs his fingers over the saliva, smearing it over your lips and cheek while his hips continue their attack.

"You look so good, all messy," he says with a playful tone. "Nothing but a submissive little fuck doll for me to use as I please."

Yoongi sits up, grips you by the hips, and speeds his pace, causing every muscle in your body to fight between wanting to tense and relax. You chase your next high and breakneck speeds, babbling nonsense as Yoongi uses you just as promised.

You nearly cum just as Yoongi pulls out and releases his hold. With an impatient, frustrated groan, you bury your face into the blanket while Yoongi's weight shifts and reaches under you to grab your hips. Hot breath follows a warm wet tongue against your pussy, and you moan loud and eager, doing your best to pop your ass out and give him as much access to you as possible as a new rush of pleasure takes hold.

Yoongi buries his face into you and puts his whole jaw into devouring your cunt, lips and tongue working you over in broad, sloppy movements. Remnants of the high you were chasing before build quickly. And when his tongue moves to your asshole and he plunges two fingers into your pussy, thumb rubbing over your clit, the dam breaks.

Gripping the comforter, you squeal and moan, feeling wave after intense wave flow through you. Yoongi hums and groans as he tongue fucks your ass, fingers and thumb rubbing over your sweet spots. As soon as your high dissipates, you feel another racing to take its place.

This time, when he pulls away before you can cum, you feel relief. You do your best to relax and catch your breath, feeling your entire body tremble and sink into the mattress.

"Already going limp on me," Yoongi teases, pressing into your hips to make you roll around to your back again.

“Making me dizzy,” you complain as you flop over, legs spreading uselessly, plopping down to the mattress.

Your bathing suit top is even more askew, breasts hanging past the thin cups that have shifted, but you do not care. This is exactly how you wanted to be fucked – rushed, rough, and without any preamble or romance.

“You like it when I play with your ass,” Yoongi teases, lips pulled into an obnoxious smirk.

“Shut up,” you complain, rolling your heavy, tired eyes.

Yoongi spreads your thighs with both palms and spits with enough force onto your clit that it makes you flinch. One hand stays pressed into your thigh while the other pumps and lines up his cock.

How it still feels so incredible when he spears you open is a mystery; your body should be used to it by now, but instead, the stretch feels overwhelming, making you moan and arc off the comforter.

“Should let Jimin and I double penetrate you,” Yoongi grits between his teeth as he pulls back and slams forward.

“Oh my god!” you scream as Yoongi grips your hips and drives his cock into you so hard, your body trembles and jiggles with each perfect punch of his hips.

Although the prospect of actually meeting Jimin does interest you, and it does feel good when Yoongi plays with your ass, double penetration – specifically anal sex – is not something you are ready for. But you are unable to voice your trepidation at the moment, mouth only capable of sputtering nonsense between sobs and moans, which you are no longer capable of holding back.

Yoongi leans, deepening his thrusts, and he slots two fingers into your mouth, pressing on your tongue and forcing you to drool. His fingers taste like you, heady and ever so slightly tangy, and he grips onto your jaw nice and tight while each drag of his cock threatens to send you into a new dimension of existence.

Your eyes flutter, and you wonder if it is possible for your soul to slip from your body. You feel tingly and elevated into clouds – like nothing in the world exists but the two of you tangled in this sardonic dance.

"Fuck, I won't last much longer," Yoongi groans, and you practically thank the heavens.

At this rate, if Yoongi does not cum soon, you might risk actually wanting to see him more often. You might find yourself thinking about him while he is away, and, god forbid, wanting to invite him over to do this again.

"Can I cum inside you?" Yoongi asks, voice breaking around the edges.

You attempt to mutter, "Absolutely not," around his fingers, but the sounds come out jumbled and drool runs down your cheek.

Luckily, Yoongi seems to understand, and he slides his fingers from your mouth, then pulls all the way out and begins to stroke himself off with his drool-covered hand. Although you find it hard to keep your eyes open, you cannot help but stare.

Yoongi kneels over you, head tipped back with his throat bobbing as he chases the last of his high. He moans loud and unabashed, sounding and looking far better than you care to admit, with his mint-colored hair hanging over his forehead in sweaty little stalactites. He trembles as his cum sprays from his glistening cock, covering your thigh and hip, and as he squeezes his tip to get the last remaining drops out, he falls slightly forward, bracing himself with his free hand.

"God damn," Yoongi groans, head drooping low. "I knew you would feel good but that was insane."

The urge to tell Yoongi to shut up is strong, but you find you cannot get the words out. All you can do is stare as he catches his breath. You wonder how you have never noticed how broad his shoulders are before, eyes tracing the lines of muscle and bone. Briefly, you even wonder if you could have a crush on someone like him, before you heavy-blink and shake your head, forcing the thought away.

You hum in response to Yoongi's words, delayed because you are stuck in your head. Of course, you would be thinking thoughts about a man who makes you feel this good – but that is all they are, thoughts. Yoongi is an idiot, at the end of the day, who is best friends with your brother, and something like this cannot become a regular occurrence. Surely, once you have come down from your various highs, you will be right back to hating him.

"Alright," Yoongi groans, finally meeting your eye while he slides off the edge of the bed, into a standing position. "This was fun. Thanks for the pussy."

"Whatever," you grumble, finally attempting to move your bathing suit back into place before realizing you still have Yoongi's cum drying on your fucking hip.

"Next time, I want to bring Jimin. You'll love him, trust me."

With a sigh, you glance around the room, then remember there is a box of tissues sitting on the bathroom counter. "There is definitely not going to be a next time," you respond as you begin to attempt to roll into a position that does not make the cum trickle onto the bed.

"You always say that," Yoongi teases, pulling his shorts up, "but I know you'll be thinking about me after this. I saw the way you drifted, baby girl. You were having an out of body experience while I fucked you nice and hard."

"Alright, fuck off," you complain, sitting up and untying the still-damp bathing suit from your chest. Post-nut regret settles deep the more he eggs you on, and it is beginning to annoy the shit out of you. Why must he speak? All of this would be much more pleasant if he would just fuck you and go.

Yoongi turns and walks away without another word. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in, making an attempt at centering yourself. This was just another slip-up, and hardly a big deal; it is not as if you will be asking for a round three. He is simply too annoying and low-key inconsiderate.

You sit and wait for the door to open and close, planning a nice warm shower. The only plan the group has is to meet for dinner, and that isn't for another few hours. You are shocked when you feel something hit you on the arm, and your eyes fly open to find the cardboard cube of tissues resting by your hand, and Yoongi standing nearby with a smile.

"See ya later," he calls, waving his fingertips playfully while a sweet, almost pretty smile graces his lips.

"Yup," you respond, tearing your gaze away and looking down at the tissues. Only when you finally do hear Yoongi leave, do you begin to wipe yourself clean.

"Get your shit together," you mumble under your breath, disgusted by how much you actually did enjoy Yoongi's company, bothered by how your giant suite feels lonely the moment he is gone.

You need to get a grip before dinnertime. And you need to resist the urge to get to know Jimin. This can not and will not become a regular thing. There is absolutely no way it can. Nothing good can come from catching feelings for the devil with the mint hair.

ahhh, here we are again with a written part after almost a full year! let me know what you think! i only have 1 other part planned, but that doesn't mean it will end there. (no promises, tho!)

comments and reblogs make the world go 'round! and likes are appreciated, too!!!

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#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #btswritersclub #suga x reader #yoongi brother's best friend #yoongi scenarios #fic: devil with the mint hair

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billiedeansbitch · 1 year

Text

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 [𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏]

𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: Larissa was compelled to use her annual leave to take care of her nieces for five days; what she wasn’t expecting was that an unnecessarily attractive baby-sitter would be accompanying her as well.

a/n: The Bouchards are original characters.

warning/s: none for this chapter.

Next part >>

Sunday afternoon, the Bouchard’s family car halted in their driveway, a woman in her early forties exited from the passenger’s side as the kids—Tory and Laura, came bolting out of the door and running toward the woman, engulfing her thighs with their dainty, but strong arms. Enamoured, the woman kissed their foreheads, gently stroking their backs with her soft-looking palms.

Mr. Bouchard—or Adam, as he insistently told you to call him, hauled two suitcases from the trunk, both were no less elegant as the tall woman who exudes a promising character, with the finest, breath-taking, blue eyes. The gods had been so kind to her.

The children peeled themselves off of her as per their mother's request to let the woman breathe, which then was dismissed by the woman with a wave of her hand and let the children pamper her with delightful hugs. They surely loved her.

Bewitched, you couldn’t help but wonder in between Mr and Mrs Bouchard, was the one related to the woman. It was hard to gamble, none of them had any resemblance with her, not with the nose, not the eyes—they all had brown eyes and all brunettes…

Registering Mrs Bouchard’s voice, you snapped from reverie that caught you, “Yes?” she beckoned you to her side. With the little amount of time you took your eyes off her, you were surprised to see the woman was already by the door with the kids clinging on both of her sides, offering a pleasant smile.

Mrs Bouchard took the courtesy and introduced you to the other woman and vice versa. After exchanging pleasantries you offered to take her coat.

“It’s okay. Here, let me help.” Truly, your motive was to innocently help her discard the coat. However, you were attacked at the moment of weakness when the expanse of pale, supple skin made an impression on your eyes. Your mouth gaped at the appetizing sight. She wore a green sleeveless dress, flaunting a good amount of skin that your eyes drink fairly well.

Larissa, who was very much aware of your lingering gaze, cleared her throat and handed her coat over, “Thank you,” and you dismissed yourself, taking her coat, which you secretly inhaled as it was rich with her scent. And your heart clenched in response to the smell. It was new to your nose, smelling of fresh cut flowers and vanilla, with some hint of peach…

While the family started to welcome their guest, you busied yourself tidying the toys the children had played with prior to their Aunt’s arrival. From time to time, your eyes would wander, seeking for the silver-haired woman, it was a challenge not to, her presence seemed to demand attention, your attention specifically.

As an unfamiliar flutter called for your attention, your cheeks consequently warmed. You hadn’t been this engrossed over a person in so long, and while it appeared to be exciting, it also felt melancholic. A woman of her age would certainly not bat an eye at you, you looked young, inexperienced, out of her league. It was never going to work out.

Later, while the children were keeping their Aunt occupied, the wife and husband went about every nook and cranny of their house, checking what else they have missed for their four day vacation in the Bahamas and you watched them dizzily as you munched your sandwich in the breakfast nook.

Panting, Renata Bouchard stopped by, steadying herself by the table, her other hand squeezing your freehand, “Thank you. Thank you so much for doing this at the last minute. I owe my life to you.”

A soft, sincere smile appeared on your lips, “It’s no big deal. I love watching your kids.” And watching their aunt…

Renata couldn’t help herself but pull you into a hug. It was awkward but no less genuine.

“Honey! It’s five! We have to go! We don’t want to miss our plane!” Mr Bouchard yelled somewhere in the house.

“Will you fetch the kids and Larissa, sweetheart?”

While the parents struggled with goodbyes, it was also evident that they couldn’t wait and get in the damned car and leave.

When the car disappeared from your eye-line, the kids had long gone and retreated to their own rooms doing God-knows-what that was keeping them entertained.

A voice bloomed in the background.

“Do you really not speak much?” Larissa spoke with a playful bite in her tone, arching her sculpted brow.

In surprise, your body jolted. You had thought she went inside as well.

“You have seem to render me speechless is all”

“Goodness, tell me it isn’t because I intimidate you, dear.”

You gave her a smile with sheer confidence to deceive her into thinking you weren’t burning with desire and said, “No, not at all, Ms Weems.” As if.

You didn’t know how you broke the eye contact, but you did and walked past her, aiming straight for the kitchen with your poor heart beating so fast. And without another word, you started making dinner.

She didn’t follow. Thank God. But as the pasta boiled and the sauce and meatballs were nearly cooked, Larissa appeared. Before the smile that was quite fixated there already, get you distracted, you shield your eyes away and focus on steering the sauce.

“That smells delicious.” Larissa was standing right behind you now, hovering, if she ever so desired to lean her body forward, her front would have touched yours and your body would have burned from the contact. Lucky you she maintained a tiny space, perfect to torture you.

With clenched jaw, you turn, carefully so as you were mindful of how thin the gap was between the two of you. She looked down at you, “Do you mind?” She wanted to taste it.

“Please, help yourself.” Expecting her to grab a spoon from the drawer, Larissa decidedly not to and just wrapped her hand around yours to lift the wooden spoon and guide it to her mouth catching you off guard. She blew a couple times before tasting the red sauce and licked her lips.

Larisa made a sound, making it known that she liked it, “This might be the best spaghetti sauce I’ve ever tasted in a while.”

You felt her withdraw her hand, and you intently watched it settle on the blade of your shoulder, her thumb affectionately stroking over the skin where the hem of the sleeve just ended.

“T-thank you.”

She smiled one last time—although if you stared longer you would have convinced yourself it was a smirk—before leaving the kitchen, and said something about getting the kids ready for dinner.

A long exhale escaped your lips, your shoulders sagging, unaware of how tensed they were until now. You took a pause, supporting yourself as you grip on the edge of the counter, trying to collect yourself as much. She took a lot from you, the very little time she had you practically trapped between the stove and her body, had drained you.

Your gaze fell on your right hand, the skin still tingled from her touch. Did she know what she was doing to you? Was it deliberate? Because if so, you were willing to play with her, whatever game it was in her head, you would dutifully play the part she wanted you to even if it included acting dumb.

Dinner went civil. The girls enjoyed the spaghetti and meatballs without a fuss. You kept yourself collected. She kept her tricks all to herself. Every once in a while, you two would eye each other and just harmlessly smile, trying to see which of you would break first. It was a fun night.

After Larissa guided both twins to clean their hands, Laura spoke, “Auntie, can you read to us before we sleep?”

From the sink you watched her crouched to their level, “Anything for my munchinks,” Something about the woman’s lively, blue eyes made you wish they were looking at you with the same dose of affection she was giving the siblings, her red lips curving into a smile. Your heart almost ached for some bit of her warmth.

The adoration only strengthened at this point, and you knew it would only fiercely grow each and every time she would show off her billion-dollar smile.

You watched the trio disappear in the twins’ bedroom, you chose to stay behind despite the ridiculous longing you felt, giving them the time to bond with each other as it was crucial for Larissa’s first night with the kids and you weren’t going to take that away from her. You didn’t want to be on her bad side.

It was still early in the night, only ten minutes past nine and the twins were already asleep without any commotion at all. When Larissa returned with a proud gleam in her eyes, sauntered toward the kitchen to rummaged for some liquid courage, hoping it would spark a nice chat with you. And that was when her eyes found a note on the counter.

“Be right back. Just getting some stuff next door.” It read. The corners of her mouth twitched upward.

When Renata divulged the piece of information to her that you would be staying to help her around with the children before they left, she was more elated with the idea than the other woman anticipated. You looked like a nice companion, although you weren’t entirely there for her own benefit, but still having another grown up around would make this whole experience less nerve-wrecking.

And she nearly cursed when her eyes landed on what she described as an unnecessarily attractive baby-sitter and a very intriguing one at that.

Earlier when the kids’ father was pacing around the house looking for his damn keys, Renata told you he was supposed to have already left half an hour ago to the airport to pick up the kids’ aunt. You didn’t know why you expected an old, mean lady, hunched with greying hair wearing a dress and a cardigan combo. Perhaps the way he sweat and paced like he was losing his balls made you think that.

And then surprise, bomb drop, it was a stunning woman with gorgeous red lips. A woman who was dizzyingly attractive with an impressive stature, her elegance called for attention, and it effortlessly captured yours. Fucking hell, Renata absolutely skipped that part.

When your overnight backpack was ready, you left the house, lip worrying between your teeth and hands in your pockets.

The front door opened, Larissa was already settled, sitting on the long couch with her long legs crossed, they were clad in her skin toned tights, you noticed. Her feet were freed from her heels and curling from the cold of the night. She was much more relaxed, more approachable and casual.

“There you are, come and join me, sweetheart.”

Her gaze danced around your legs, finding it hard to keep her eyes off of the skin that your shorts were flaunting. It was a riveting sight. But she urged herself to gather some decency and look away.

The soft glow of the lamps hid the blush on your cheeks quite well. You sat opposite her, “Let me pour you some.” She had a smile curling on her lips.

“So, tell me about yourself, dear. What do you do when you’re not babysitting my nieces?”

“I’m a part time college instructor. I work on Tuesdays and Fridays and sometimes I cover for other professors.” So you were a teacher…

She handed you the glass, you gladly accepted. It causes your fingers to brush against each other.

“Fascinating…and what do you teach?

“Philosophy.” A beat of silence.

Larissa shifted in her seat, somehow it caused her dress to bunch up, giving more sight of her thighs. She cleared her throat, “So, are you married? What’s the deal with you? I can’t seem to read you.”

It made you flushed. “I’ve no husband.” She arched her brows, unbelieving. “A boyfriend perhaps?”

You shook your head. The tension only thickened. “No men.” Larissa knew what you were trying to point out. With a satisfied hum, you saw a fleeting smirk on her lips before she drank the remaining of her wine.

From the visible curiosity in your eyes Larissa tilted her head to the side and said: “What is it you want to ask?”

It prompted your eyes to look into her piercing gaze, “How about you?” pertaining to her status.

“Married.” You felt your finger grow cold right then, breath caught in your throat. “To my job.” She finished.

If you were right, and listened very well, this person here was an esteemed Principal of an outcast academy in Vermont. It all made sense with her posture, the authority in her voice, and her allure—which you were yet to find out if it was because she was an outcast herself or it was naturally all her.

And suddenly, you thought what kind of an outcast she was, but you decided against asking, feeling you’d be imposing.

When silence befallen, you took it as a cue to speak your mind about something that had been worrying since having been left alone with the woman, “I hope you are not offended by my presence. I’m not sure what you were expecting but I’m sure as hell I was not included in the picture yet here I am.”

“Oh no, not at all. Actually it’s quite the contrary. I’m absolutely delighted to have extra hands to help with the kids as I am no mother myself.”

You pressed yourself further into the seat and muttered: “I’m pleased to hear that.” Pleased to which part exactly?

Many glasses later, your eyes could finally roam around without shame, and you started saying things like, “You’re so beautiful.” But mostly they were whispers you meant to keep only to yourself but she heard of them and blushed in response to your kind affection. And you were aware of the unconcealed looks she gave.

So maybe if you tell her now that you find her fascinating and attractive, she would smile at you and tell you she liked you, ending whatever the on-going game was. And then your eyes would linger to her lips, she would ask if she could kiss you and you would nod with trembling urgency to feel her mouth. She would then close the gap and you would be kissing under moonlit night, the bottle of wine forgotten in the coffee table.

The whole idea of it was so tempting. But it wasn’t easy to do. Not even when you were wine drunk.

Now you felt like you were fooling yourself. “It’s getting late, I should go.”

You got up, smoothing your clammy palms over the denim that clung to your thighs. “If you need anything, the room I’ll be staying in is only next to yours.”

Larissa wanted to bid you a good night kiss, so she attempted to stand up but suddenly felt unsteady on her feet, “Oh, careful.” Your body moved close, ready to catch her if she were to lose balance.

Now, you couldn’t leave this woman alone here, could you? “I think I should take you to your bed first.”

She hummed, agreeing to your proposal. Larissa was a silent drunk, she only hummed and nodded, considerably cooperative, too. You got back with a full glass of water and a tablet so she could take care of her headache in the morning.

It felt like hours of being rooted on the floor, on stand-by in case she needed anything more, and then you finally snapped, concluding that Larissa had quietly fallen asleep.

Much to your dismay, there was no accidental kissing that happened.

“Good night, Larissa.” You finally said, and walked away.

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