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teapartyprincess4two · 4 months

Text

Bad Day- J. Guilbert

pairing: girlfriend!reader x boyfriend!Johnnie

classification: slight angst, fluff

warnings: use of y/n, established relationship, Jake and Tara are dating in this, short

inspiration: request

summary: Johnnie is the moon and you’re the sun, always bright, bubbly and energetic. Nobody believes that someone as positive as you can ever have a bad day, but when you do Johnnie is ready to comfort you through it.

—

Everyone has that one friend who is the personification of sunshine, that one friend that always seems to have a smile on their face and holds a positive attitude no matter what. This said friend is always the shoulder for others to cry on, the helping hand in a time of need, and the person everyone seeked for advice. In your friend group you were that friend. You were loved by everyone and loved everyone. So, it comes as no surprise that your friends have never seen you in a bad mood and have never known you to have a bad day.

But, contrary to popular belief, you are no stranger to a bad day. In fact, you have more bad days than you let on, usually masking your anger or sadness with a smile. Johnnie has always been able to read you though, he knows when you’re actually happy and when you’re putting on a facade, whether it be for your friends or for the cameras.

Today was one of those odd days when everything was just going wrong, you just couldn’t seem to catch a break. First, your alarm didn’t go off, causing you to wake up late. If it wasn’t for how hot it was in your room, you would’ve never woken up. You were sweating so much that you felt gross and sticky, but because you woke up late, you had less time to get ready which meant you didn’t even have time to shower. So, you were forced to rush to your dental appointment looking extremely tired, flustered, and greasy.

Once you finally arrived at the dental office, you tried to calm down, you were trying to have a positive outlook in hopes that your bad luck might turn around. But, while the dentist was doing your routine check-up, he found a total of 3 cavities in your mouth. According to the dentist, the cavities were so bad that if you didn’t get emergency fillings your tooth was sure to rot to the bone. You exhaled deeply, wishing all the negative thoughts away, and proceeding with an unexpected procedure. Then, as if your luck couldn’t get any worse, your insurance didn’t cover the emergency fillings, causing you to pay money out of pocket you hadn’t budgeted for.

On your way home it was just one thing after another. You turned the car on, only for it to be low on gas. ‘Not a big deal,’ you thought, praying that this is where your bad luck ended. While pumping gas, though, you stepped in a big puddle of water that got into your shoes and seeped into your socks. You tried not to let it bother you, especially since you’d be home soon, but you were only human.

After such a bad morning, you decide to buy yourself a treat, opting for McDonalds because it was the closest, cheapest thing around. You pulled up to the drive through, using the cheeriest tone you could muster, only to be slapped in the face by the worst customer service experience ever. Normally you wouldn’t have read too much into the situation, but considering you’ve had a pretty bad day so far, it was all just adding up. After paying for and receiving your food, you realized that half of your order was missing. You hated having to be the annoying customer that storms into the restaurant with a receipt in hand, but after the day you’ve had this was the one thing you couldn’t to let slide.

You walk into the restaurant, one hand cradling the bag of food, the other holding onto the receipt as you waited patiently to be acknowledged by at least one employee. You must’ve waited 15 minutes before someone finally noticed you, giving you the blankest stare as they asked, “Can I help you?” If this would’ve happened on any other day, you would’ve completely understood and sympathized with the employee for disliking their job, but you’re so on edge right now that even this seems like a big deal. “Hi, yes. I’m missing a few item-“ you put on your best customer service voice, but before you can even finish your sentence the employee is cutting you off by talking to someone through their headset, “some lady says she’s missing stuff from her order?”

Great, this was sure to become a bigger deal than it had to be. Someone must’ve told the employee what to say over the headset because she asks, “you have the receipt?” You hold the receipt up, but they don’t let you speak before they’re snatching it away and grabbing your bag too. At this point you’re wondering if the chicken nuggets are worth the trouble, should you just quit while you’re ahead and go home?

In the end you ended up getting your missing items, but you were already so frustrated by that point that it didn’t even matter anymore. The manager ended up getting involved, claiming you received everything in your order. She fought with you, raised her voice and got unreasonably upset while you tried to keep your cool, but one can only take so much. You didn’t want to, but you ended up raising your voice too because she wasn’t listening to reason, she never even checked your bag to see if everything was in there. Overall it was just a terrible situation that drained you both socially and emotionally.

After an encounter like that, most people would feel proud for having stood their ground, but you felt like screaming and crying. You weren’t a confrontational person, in fact you always tried keeping a positive attitude even in stressful situations to avoid situations like this. So now you’re walking out of the restaurant with your head held high as to not show weakness, but your spirit was so low it was practically hitting the floor. As soon as you were in your car and away from judgmental eyes, you were crying. Everything just kept adding up and even though nothing majorly tragic happened to you today, it just became too much to bare.

You’re leaning against the steering wheel, trying to calm down before you start driving home, but all you can think about is the horrible day you’ve had. All you wanted to do was go home and curl up under a blanket, hiding yourself from the world until you were ready to crawl back out. The emotions were so intense that you weren’t even hungry anymore. And to top it off, you were expecting visitors today who were probably already waiting for you at your house. All you could do was hope Johnnie would keep them busy while you dissociated in your room for a while.

You took a deep breath, shutting your eyes tightly and willing the tears away. “It’s gonna be okay,” you whisper, your voice coming out shaky as you try reassuring yourself that this isn’t the end of the world. Finally you pull out of the parking lot, mentally preparing yourself for the rest of the day.

—

Johnnie, Jake, and Tara are all hanging out in your living room. When you arrived home they were watching a scary movie, a common occurrence in your friend group. You all usually chilled at home, opting for cozy nights in over loud, hectic nights out. Johnnie saved a spot for you, complete with your favorite blanket, a bag of popcorn, and a cold drink. You trudged inside, plopping the bag of food on the kitchen counter before making a quick appearance in the living room.

Everyone was excited to see you, they always were, and although you were excited to see them too, you just greeted them quickly before retreating to your room. Usually you’d be extremely bubbly, obnoxiously hugging everyone and immediately cuddling up to Johnnie. So, when you offered everyone a meek wave, Johnnie knew something was wrong.

Johnnie immediately picked up on the way your shoulders slumped and your feet dragged along the floor. He noticed that there was an underlying red tint in your eyes, they were glossed over from the tears you previously shed. Your shoes were wet and muddy, your face was swollen from the dental appointment, and your usual smile was replaced by a small frown. You just looked drained, and that was unusual for someone who was usually bouncing off the walls with energy.

Yours and Johnnie’s personality difference was one of the greatest defining factors in your relationship. Where he was more laid back and mysterious, you were energetic and outgoing. Of course he wasn’t shy, but he was extremely reserved in unfamiliar situations, while you were always ready to dive in head first no matter the scenario.

The movie plays lowly in the background, the soft light from the tv illuminating the dark room just enough for everyone’s faces to be visible. You’ve been home for an hour at this point, but you haven’t come out of your room since. Even Jake and Tara have noticed, all three of them murmuring about what could possibly be wrong. You were the light of the group, if you were sad then everyone was sad. “Do you think she’s sick?” Tara asks, sending Johnnie a worried look.

“I don’t know, probably,” Jake says with a shrug before Johnnie can respond, Jake always did a good job of being acutely unaware of everything.

“I was asking Johnnie,” Tara replies with an eye roll, scoffing before pausing the movie. “She went to the dentist today, maybe she’s just tired,” Johnnie finally says, trying to think of any and every reason you could be sad.

Tara hums in response, satisfied with Johnnie’s answer. It seemed logical enough, most people were usually tired after dental appointments, especially when they had emergency work done. Tara presses play on the movie, leaning into Jake again as she tries getting comfy. Johnnie tries focusing on the movie, watching as the characters on the screen run away from the whatever’s chasing them, but with each scene change his mind goes crazy. What could have you so upset?

He looks over at Jake and Tara, they’re cuddled up under a blanket as they share a bag of popcorn. That’s when Johnnie realizes that not only does he feel like a third wheel, but he should be comforting you instead of sitting here barely paying attention to a movie.

“Let me go check on her,” Johnnie says abruptly, throwing the blanket on his lap to the side and standing from the couch. Jake and Tara watch in confusion as he disappears down the hallway before averting their attention back to the movie.

Even though it’s Johnnie’s room too, he knocks on the door softly before walking in. “Y/n?” his voice is hushed, not wanting to scare or startle you incase you’re asleep. The room is pitch black and quiet, the only light coming from your phone. You’re rolled over on your side, scrolling aimlessly on TikTok in search of something that’ll make you feel better. So far, nothing’s worked.

You hear him but you don’t respond, so he tries again, “Baby?” He slowly walks over to the bed, pulling up the covers and crawling in next to you. Usually you’d melt into his touch, but as he wraps an arm around you, you just continue scrolling on your phone. Johnnie doesn’t take it personally though because he knows that this isn’t how you usually act, “you okay?” He feathers a finger over your face, brushing the stray hair out of the way as he kisses your cheek.

That kiss is enough to bring the emotions flooding back again, causing you to scrunch your face and immediately begin crying. A small, downturned smile forms on Johnnie’s face as he pulls you into him. It’s such a sad sight to see you cry, but he’s happy that you’re comfortable enough to let it all go in front of him. He knows that it takes a lot to make you this upset and he’s ready to listen for as long as you need him to, “wanna talk about it?”

You sniffle, rubbing the tears away aggressively as you mumble, “God, I feel so pathetic right now.” There was nothing pathetic about being sad, everyone has bad days and it’s normal to cry every once in a while, but you couldn’t help but feel silly. “It’s okay to cry,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

“There’s people with real problems in this world, though… I just feel so stupid for letting today drain me,” you whisper, rolling over so you’re facing Johnnie. He takes in your appearance; your eyes are bloodshot, your cheeks are flushed, and your lips are swollen. Your eyelashes are so wet they’re webbed together, each blink leaving a trail of tears on your cheeks. Johnnie gingerly wipes the tears away, placing a quick kiss on your nose.

“Just tell me about your day, it’ll make you feel better,” he replies, chuckling a little at your attempt to deter your feelings and defer the conversation. You inhale deeply, slowly nodding your head as you prepare to verbally relive the horrible day you had. You retell the day’s events, including every single detail from your trip to the dentist to your encounter with the angry McDonald’s manager. “What a bitch,” Johnnie grumbles, shaking his head.

You immediately feel better, but still not well enough to emerge from your dark cave to hangout with your friends. “Feel better?” Johnnie asks, a genuine smile playing on his face. You smile back for the first time since you woke up today, “a little.”

“Good,” he places a kiss on your lips, allowing your lips to mould together. The impromptu make-out session is sweet and innocent, serving as a reminder that Johnnie is always here to comfort you through the hard times and that you’re allowed to have a bad day or two.

“Can we just stay here for a little bit?” you ask, cuddling into Johnnie’s chest and letting his heartbeat begin to lull you to sleep. He hums in response, pulling you in closer and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You fall asleep, feeling like the bad day you had no longer mattered.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n:

hope this comforting, fluffy Johnnie fic warms everyone’s hearts

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 🎀✨

#teapartyanonreqs✨💗#johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert <3 #johnnie guilbert x y/n #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert fanfic #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert headcannons #johnnie guilbert smut #jake and johnnie #Johnnie one shot #Johnnie guilbert oneshot #Johnnie guilbert angst

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darkdemeter · 3 days

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BY THEIR LEASH

— WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! Female Reader x Natasha Romanoff

—- gifs/images found on pinterest, credit to original posters -—

| A/N | DISCRETION |

Long overdue, finally knocking this one out before it gets retired to permanent draft status ughhhh... *proceeds to fall face first in tired raccoon*

Mafia stuff — mention of death — alcohol consumption (like a lot) — 18+ SMUT, MINORS DNI — Porn with plot? — lesbian sex — threesome — may be some grammar errors and such — slight bondage — little bit of muscle/stomach riding if you squint your eyes, turn your head that way... — I think that's it?

────────────────

| M-LIST | TAGLIST

@alexawynters @alyciaddict @simpforlizzie @literaturedog @maladaptive-daydreamz @mathxa @blackbirdv98

────────────────┘

An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true.

Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation.

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration.

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market.

That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay.

At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t worth every single cent he spent on you three years ago.

Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs.

The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs.

Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one.

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.”

You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot.

Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment. And not too soon after is it halfway downed.

“Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particularly deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need another refill and pronto.

“People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.”

“He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere shot in the back?”

You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.”

Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women.

You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his hand, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work.

For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless.

When Steve casts a hardened stare your way, you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender.

“Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

“Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your renewed liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress?

“Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun.

“Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

“Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.”

She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow.

Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support.

Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs.

But she never committed to joining forces.

You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress.

Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand.

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included.

Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous.

She’s facing you, back arched and arse resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, a sweet bouquet of lavender which rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

“Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin.

“I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow.

Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

“Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress.

“You really think she wants a guard dog?”

“Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you.

“We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

“No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

“I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

“And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

“Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you.

You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you.

“Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue.

At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head.

“I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.”

Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

“I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help.

Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing. Refilling your empty glass with more liquor. You’ve yet to scratch the surface of being tipsy.

“Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment, for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.” Steve is calm in his approach to reason with her, but if anything, her raised hand indicates her refusal, unswayed by the honey of his words. Your tongue rolls the rounds of your mouth, each time measured by your impatience as you slowly circle around the dealings table, unable to find yourself comfortable against the stiffened wood of your seat.

“You do realise that you’re asking for more than your so-called ‘support’ is actually worth.” You blink several times, the blow of it a downright attack on their egos.

“No, I want something more.”

“And I want alcohol to affect me so I can sleep well at night,” you mutter to the glassy rim against your bottom lip. Wanda’s eyes flicker to you, bearing down a sinister glare. “Excuse me?”

“And we were just about to suggest that very thing!” Tony interjects with a grin, eager to utilise his card, his Ace Wolf as he liked to call you. He gestures to where you stand now at the table’s other end.

She directs her eyes to look you up and down slowly, gaze polished with keen observation. She hums thoughtfully before she looks to Natasha.

“E atât de bună?”

The red haired chuckles and sitting back in her chair, chest heaving with a breathy sigh, she nods.

“Exceptional de bun. Cu o limbă ca asta…”

Bucky shifts in his seat, a hollow whistle on his lips over the exchange of heated words, and you flash a grin at both women. The words of foreign tongue, however, pass over the heads of the other men, their eyes looking to either you or Bucky only to be answered with a shrug, but knowing that look in your eyes, they can take a good guess as to what’s being discussed.

With another passing frame of time, both women pull away from their engrossed conversation. “I’ve been made aware that you intend to bargain your wolf to me,” she says, once again letting her sight fall on you.

“And if that is the case, and what I have been told…” She trails off momentarily, finding to correct herself in the midst of something you can smell very clearly on her - or rather between her legs. “Then I’ll accept.”

Each man present in the room is given pause to revel in the stun before them. Wanda Maximoff, the heiress of Europe’s biggest family, accepts their deal. All at the price of you.

“You’ll have your answer by tomorrow, Mr Stark,” Wanda says, standing from her chair, she beckons you to follow with a kink of her fingers. One by one and following in unison, their eyes turn to you as you shuffle back on your heel with shrug your shoulders and fanged grin.

“Animal magnetism, boys.”

Wanda’s heels bound a steady beat as she wanders over to the foot of her bed, making an elegant show of swaying her hips and drawing your attention to her form. From behind, Natasha slips the dark suit jacket from your shoulders. Tosing it aside, her hands play the form of an enchanting guide, ushering you forward while tracing the hidden curves of your muscles.

“As per courtesy, Miss Maximoff wants the first claim.”

You huff in reply, “And you?”

Natasha hums softly and plucks your belt loose from your trousers. “I have you two, I won’t go unsatisfied tonight.”

Tilting your head to view Wanda who stands idle, fingers playing with the lining of her dress above her breasts, you stalk towards her, her back arching under your touch with a breathless whimper, you trail the zip of her gown down slowly. Falling around her ankles as a fabricated halo, she turns suddenly and your lips collide together in hunger.

She sinks down to the bed, laying back until her hair fans around her, spreading her legs apart. That feverish hunger boils within your blood, running it hold and thick, the fur beneath your skin bristled in your excitement as you take care to roll the sleeves of your skirt to your elbows. To your knees, you’re brought to the sight of her soaked underwear, the dark patch evidently giving away just how badly she required you between her quivering thighs. Natasha’s hands rake through the length of your hair and scratches at your scalp, earning a low purr of pleasure to rumble in your chest.

You lean forward and all it takes is a single inhale and you’re let loose of your chain of control, claws shearing the fabric that dares to confine her awaiting cunt any longer. She gasps upon contact, your lips smothering her moistened, slick lips and she gives a deep-noted moan, arching her hips up, your hands wrap around her thighs to drag her to you more.

She tastes like the fine wines of heaven, a forbidden savour on the tongue that which you greedily lap, your eyes close as you succumb to the wolf’s hunger, tongue lapping heavily at her clit.

She whines and cries, breath hot and light in her lungs as her nails rip into the sheets to no damaging avail. Natasha hovers above, watching on in her own longing and desire. She dips a hand beneath the hem of her dress, aside she pushes her own soaked panties and delicately dances her fingers over the sensitive bulb with a keening breath you hear catch in her throat.

Natasha leans down low until the scape of her breasts brushes against your shoulder blade, lips a tantalising thing and moving sinfully to mouth, “I’m touching myself to you.”

“Watching you please her is making me so wet, Wolf.”

“Make us both cum.”

You growl deeply and Wanda’s body visibly shudders in response to the wild vibrations that course through her abdomen, shaking her whole and off centre, her hips begin to jerk as she nears her climax. Both women mingle in their euphoria and your own core comes to life, sparked by the noises they make in unison, an orchestra of pleasure. Suckling and licking at her core, she cries out and the lips of her pussy shrink around absence and she sighs in bliss. In tandem, Natasha moans loudly from behind and you feel her body press against you as her hand works hard as fucking her fingers into her cunt, the sound of slick and skin melding together addicting.

“You weren’t… kidding, Nat,” she says between laboured breaths.

Slowing your advances, you finally pull away with a sigh, her juices glistening on your lips. Wanda looks at you and her cheeks flush at the sight before Natasha’s other hand forces your attention to her. Her lips connect with yours and her tongue darts over the bottom of yours, tasting Wanda with a delicious sound that you swallow.

After she pulls from you, she then shares a look with Wanda and the two of them grin. “Shall we reward her?”

“I think she’s been a girl.”

Oh, how the wolf loves that. Praise for a job well done you can hardly suppress your proud smirk. Buu before you can do much else, Natasha pushes you and your knees are knocked out from beneath you, Wanda having rolled to the side only to follow Natasha’s lead as they both halfway straddle you, otherwise keeping you pinned to the mattress below.

Together they peel away your dress pants, giggling and muttering to one another in that alluring tongue, your mind in a haze to catch barely a sentence shared between them but you gained awareness of what they intended when they each stroked their tongues over your stimulated pearl.

“‘Sh–shit!” you hiss sharply and your hips buck, the two women giggling at the sight of you writhing.

They give no further warning as they duck down. Their mouths work together against your clit, suckling it to draw pathetic whines from that deep part inside you dare not let anyone see, their voices trespass the air with betraying praises that speak only of teases and their tongues lap at the slick of your pussy that clenches at the attention. Your hands grapple the sheets and tear hard, the damage unnoted and not cared for.

“Girls– fuck!” you groan at the rise in your core, oh so ready to reach that climactic end that you have been denied for the past several weeks. It’s not too long that your first release has you whining, the nois a higher pitched sound that does slowly in broken notes as you cum, the girls moaning and allowing their lips to graze one another as they lapped and sucked you.

Wanda is the first to make eye contact and move towards you, her leg swoops over to fully straddle your stomach, in her hands is your belt. She rips the centre of your shirt apart, buttons flying to discarded corners of the room to be mere pebbles of disregard.

You see the way her eyes drink in the sight of your toned muscles, the pinky tip of her tongue darting over her wet lips.

She adores the way you tilt your head to the side, a curious whine on your lips. “I’ve always wanted something on a leash. May I?”

You don’t particularly care for the way her question hits a mark submerged deeper into your heart, reaching for something you denied was there. Dignity. Usually people just took from you and you came to accept that. Expect it.

You nod up at her and she fixes the belt around the column of your neck, the leather cool against the blazing heat of your skin, but something inside you flutters. Quickly, you push it down.

Natasha moves into the same position behind Wanda, your larger size very much able to accommodate both of them, Natasha trails light kisses along Wanda’s shoulder as she fastens the belt and gives an experimental tug. A soft grunt kitchen in your throat in retort and you flash her a grin, the sharpened points of your fangs perched against your bottom lip.

“The wolf never let me tame her, Miss Maximoff.”

“Oh, she just needed some reassurance,”Wanda replies gently with a smile. For a moment, you wanted to believe her words were sincere. Your hands run along Wanda’s thighs until they reach her hips and with a roll forward, she grinds her pussy against your torso, feeling the defined muscles press and tense against her, bringing her to moan under her breath. Natasha drapes a hand over your own to roll and pinch Wanda’s swollen clit, her eyes finding yours.

“Watch her,” she commands breathlessly and you do so, amber glows in fluorescent pulses as Wanda biomes slick with her arousal. The fine artistry of their bodies moving together as they roll and grind against you, you cannot help but reach a hand up, claw catching the thin silk of Wanda’s bra and severing the contraption into two, letting it fall and reveal her plump breasts; her nipples erect.

Wanda circles an arm behind her and behind Natasha’s head, her back arching to the pleasure she becomes lost in, and you purely enjoy the show above, admiring the glow of sweat collecting on their skin, groaning as their slick covers your stomach as they ride you. The hand working Wanda’s clit speeds up and then slows, teasing the heiress, she gives you a sly grin.

“Do that thing with the claws,” she says and Wanda’s eyes open, as if awakening from her bliss and becoming enlightened with wonderment.

“W-what thing?”

“I’ll show you.”

You sit by the bed, elbow propped up on the chair’s arm with a glass in your grasp, imagination lost in the reverie of last night’s events with a smirk carved into your mouth. Both women lay wrapped together, bodies nude and pressed up to each other as they continue to sleep. You surely tired them out.

Thankfully and mostly dressed whenTony came wandering in, the band of his fellow brothers staying just beyond the room’s threshold, though it still didn’t make to hide the snarl creeping up your throat as the sudden intrusion. You take a sip of your drink as Tony scans the room, gaze flickering between the two women and you who bares an illuminated glare at him.

“What the hell happened last night?”

“We got her affirmative answer on the deal,” you answer with a raise of your glass in cheers before downing the last of your drink.

#female reader #mafia au #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #werewolf reader #wanda maximoff smut #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff x you #wandax reader smut #wanda x werewolf smut #natasha x werewolf smut #wanda maximoff fic #wanda x werewolf! reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff

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miley1442111 · 3 days

Text

cookies-a.hotchner

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a/n: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1000 FOLLOWERS, Y'ALL MEAN SO MUCH TO ME I CAN'T BEGIN TO EXPLAIN IT!!!!

summary: you're the cute barista he sees everyday.

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem barista reader

warnings: fluff, mentions of sa, aaron is a cutie in this, sorry if this doesn't make sense, i was studying german all day and idk if I have the patience to re-write this :)

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Aaron’s nervousness grew as he stepped closer and closer to the counter. Aaron Hotchner was not a man to be anxious, nervous, or shy when it came to speaking to people, even new people. Aaron Hotchner was a confident, intelligent man who was very important and powerful in both his personal and work life.

So why was he so nervous to speak to the cute barista he saw every morning?

In his defence, you were drop-dead gorgeous. Aaron loved everything about you, your hair, your style, your face, your lips (he spent a lot of time looking at them), and everything about you. You were so interesting, so nice, and very good at making him a good cup of coffee.

“Aaron! How are you today?” You asked, a smile on your face as he got to the top of the queue.

“I’m fine thank you, how are you?” he smiled. Good, I got through the first sentence.

“I’m great! It’s so nice out today,” you mentioned the weather everyday without fail, Aaron smiled and agreed with whatever positive outlook you had, even on the gloomiest of days.

“It is,” he nodded.

“The usual?” you asked, getting a cup ready.

“Please,” he nodded. “And one of the cookies please.”

You stopped your writing on the cup to look up at him. “A cookie? I wouldn’t have put you down for a cookie guy, Aaron.”

“It’s not for me, my son loves the cookies from your shop,” he admitted, since he’d brought Jack here on your day off (yes, he had your schedule memorised. You worked Mondays to Fridays between 7am and 1pm, Saturday off, then on Sundays you worked the closing shift), and he’d enjoyed the cookie quite a lot.

Your eyes flickered with something like… disappointment, but it was immediately replaced with your signature smile. “Any specific one?” You asked, eyes moving from him to the display case.

“The red one, he loves spiderman,” he decided after a moment of deliberation.

“A man after my own heart,” you smiled, and bagged the cookie, giving him a soft goodbye as he waited for his drink and cookie down by the other side of the till.

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Your co-worker gave you a sad smile as you deflated. Your cute regular, Aaron, was obviously married with children, who wouldn’t want to make him a dad? Who wouldn’t want to give him anything he wants forever? He was just so handsome and so sweet and so-

You get the point.

You were smitten with a married man you had no chance with. Sigh.

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Saturday 4pm

Aaron walked in with Jack’s hand in his and the rest of the BAU team behind him. He was in his marathon wear, after just running the town's marathon. The shop was practically empty, it probably had something to do with the time and the fact that they were giving out free food at the finish line. But Aaron wanted nothing more than to b-line it straight to your cafe and get a latte and a cookie (he tried a bite of Jack’s and he very much enjoyed it).

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The bell above the door rang and you put on your best customer service face to be met with Penelope Garcia. Your sister’s friend from college that visits every summer.

“Pen?” you smiled

“Y/n!” she squealed, opening her arms for a hug. You came out from behind the counter to hug her.

“How are you?” You asked as the rest of the group looked at the two of you.

“I’m so amazing! I cannot believe your sister didn’t tell me you opened the cafe?!” She practically scolded.

“Don’t be too hard on her, she doesn’t exactly… know,” you chuckled uncomfortably as Penelope’s face fell.

“Why wouldn’t she know?” She whispered, turning you both away from the prying eyes of the group.

“She… she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore,” you shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Why? What happened?”

“After the… after Ryan did, y’know, what he did, she told me she believed his version and not mine. C’est la vie,” you sighed, picking at your nails as you explained.

“What?!” Penelope was practically crying. “That’s awful!” “I’m fine,” you chuckled, going back behind the counter. “Now, what can I get you?”

“I have the order written down, it’s a lot,” a tall man from the group offered.

“Sounds great,” you smiled at him. He handed you over a piece of paper with various drink orders and food orders and you started working on them right away, since you were the only one working that day too. Penelope paid, and watched over you as the group chatted about various cases and congratulated Aaron on his performance. She soon realised she wasn’t the only one watching you, Aaron’s eyes were firmly planted on either you, or Jack.

Interesting.

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As you brought over all the drinks, you finally let yourself look at Aaron.

Fuck, he looked good in a t-shirt and running shorts. It was becoming unfair.

There were three women on the team. Penelope, not his wife for sure- she was dating Kevin. A blonde woman, showing photos of her kids to the group and sitting far away from Aaron- not his wife. A brunette woman who was gorgeous who sat right beside him, but there was no physical contact- maybe his wife? You couldn’t tell.

As the night wore on and they started trickling out, you were left alone with Aaron for a split second. While clearing their table, you accidentally knocked into him and spilt coffee on his shirt.

“Shit, I am so sorry!” You immediately apologised and Aaron just stared at you with this dazed look for a second, then smiled.

“It’s fine, I promise,” he nodded, but you felt awful.

“Please let me get you some tissue or something Aaron,” you pleaded, bringing the cups over to the till before running to grab some tissue paper, not even waiting for his response.

“It’s really not a big-” Aaron started but you hushed him, trying to get some of the coffee off of his shirt. He stared down at you as you worked, muttering soft apologies and sighs or annoyance at your carelessness. “Can I ask you out to dinner?” He blurted out, not even thinking. God, his head felt so hazy when he was around you.

You slowly looked up in shock. “Pardon?”

“I’m asking you out,” he repeated.

“But don’t you have a wife-?”

“She and I got divorced a while ago. I get Jack- my son- on the weekends,” he explained.

“Oh, then in that case, yes please,” you smiled. “I’d love to go out.”

“Good,” he smiled, then he turned quite serious. “I promise to just move things at your speed, I overheard what you and Penelope were talking about,” he sighed. “You’ll call all of the shots, I promise.”

Your heart swelled. He was a gentleman, a dad, and a lovely person? How could you be more lucky? “Thank you, that means a lot.”

Aaron walked out of the coffee shop, a large stain on his white shirt, but a date too, so he really didn’t mind.

He also didn't mind the teasing he got from Penelope on the way home.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fluff #thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

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n3xii · 7 months

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POV: Underpaid customer service employee gives you messages from the universe (PAC reading)

Close your eyes andfocus on your intention, then carefuly select your employee; you have kenny, leroy, and phil.

Kenny's message

cards: ''boundaries'' ''knight of swords''

ok listen, i get that you're afraid of being harsh or mean but sometimes you have to lay the line down. you have the opportunity to tell others how they get to treat you, and sometimes you have to do it in a clear straight forward way. you can't dance around what you want to say espeically when it comes to people who benefit from you being afraid to piss them off. people work in stupid ways. they feel disrespected when people treat them with the same energy they show you but fuck them. i literally have to set boundaries everyday, you are capable of doing the same.

leroy's message

cards: ''ace of pentacles reversed'' ''creation''

you may be loosing out on possibilities and opportunities due to the fact that you're not willing to create them. sometimes things dont happen out of thin air, you have to create opportunities yourself, and that might look different for many people. for example, instead of waiting for a job to be given to you, you can have mine.

everyone is creative, creativity doesnt always mean arts and crafts, it can be a person who knows how to solve problems by thinking outside of the box. I dont know you well but you give the impression that you have alot of problems. i think you are in a situation where you feel stagnant, loss or hopeless, and my message to you is to get creative. think outside of the box and learn how to create opportunities for yourself. the current framework you're used to solving problems with obviously is NOT working.

phils message

cards: "7 of cups reversed" ''balance''

i dont know how to tell you this but you have alot of opportunities in front of you, but your own outlook and perception is clouding how you interpret them. also not to be crude or blunt but you aren't grounded, you're in a situation right now where you're not willing to face the realities of life and you need to integrate more moderation and balance into your life. basically what im trying to tell you is to get focused, get anchored to the world around you. stop getting lost in imagination unless you're visualizing your goals. but then again, visualization is useless unless you truly believe in your visions. i think you're trying to find escape from the horrors of the industrial corporate world that makes you feel dead inside, but that only gets you so far in life. Manifest with intention, stope escaping.

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meyousing · 1 year

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𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔, 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖔𝖗

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: you had been by yourself for most of your life. the idea of meeting a stranger who could change that for you only seemed like something that would happen in a romantic film, not in real life. you were pleasantly surprised at how real this could very well be.

𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: chrollo x reader, yandere, implied kidnapping, brief nsfw, mentions of violence. all of this is below the cut.

You had become accustomed to living alone, having grown up under the care (or rather lack thereof) of your grandmother. Life with her was typical, albeit bland, since she hadn’t provided much more for you aside from the bare necessities; any type of relationship nonexistent. You moved out as soon as you turned 18, wanting to experience what else life could offer you outside of a place where every day began to feel the same, and ultimately blur together. Years had passed since then, you were able to find a job that was stable (keyword stable, not so enjoyable, due to it being a dreaded retail job), but you had not bothered to meet any new friends outside of casual coworkers, nor had you ventured into the dating world just yet, as you had grown used to disappointment with the boys you had met in your teens. Perhaps it was from your grandmother’s indirect neglect in your developmental years that made the idea of seeking out new relationships of any kind seem of no use to you. However, shifts at your usually drab retail job now felt worth attending, you suddenly looked forward to helping other people with their woes at your customer service desk. Something you regularly hated; now a joy, all because of someone in your life who had given you a new outlook.

Your usual workday consisted of getting to work at 7:30am following a brief routine, packing away your personal belongings in your designated locker, and walking out to tend to the front desk of your supercentre. The place was a bit dead right now, New Years having just passed; the store now entering its “ghost months” since there was no urgent holiday coming up for everyone to buy items in bulk for. Contrary to the popular belief that these ghost months would be a relaxing time for you since the store was simply less busy, that was not true. If you had received a cent for the amount of customers who would come in and try to refund holiday decor that they pretended they hadn’t used (meanwhile you understood they were just being cheap, but couldn’t exactly say that to them) and was defective (how would they know this if they claimed not to have used it?), you could probably retire early. There was one day in particular where the amount of customers coming in to angrily try and refund a Christmas tree or New Years airhorns was absurd; your patience waning as your shift progressed. You began to expect that every customer walking over to you was about to tell you the same tale, to unload the same item onto your desk. It wasn’t until a few hours before the end of your shift that the masses began to die down and you finally felt like you could breathe again; that perhaps the last disgruntled man who exited the premises with tinsel banners falling out of his arms was actually the last of them. You had taken a moment to compose yourself and looked down to your phone, idly swiping up and down to see if you’d gotten any notifications in that time, hoping something would show up to distract the growing rage in your mind; when the sound of a customer clearing their throat brought you out of your phone-induced stupor.

You hadn’t known that your first interaction with this customer would not be your last.

He was just so… normal? It was hard to pinpoint the right word. Right off the bat, he was different from most customers; you had gotten so used to the old, frazzled people demanding to speak to a manager before you could offer them any kind of solution; making your shoulders tense up and stay that way. This man, however, simply asked you for directions to somewhere else in the city. He walked up to your desk seemingly out of nowhere, you looked up at him and noted his appeal instantly; trying to not let that distract you from his question. Longer black hair slightly covered a cloth wrapped around his forehead, a black turtleneck hugging his muscular form covered slightly by a black trench coat. He told you that he had wanted to treat his coworkers to a nice dinner, since they were all staying in your city for some work-related purpose, yet he could not locate the restaurant he intended on taking them to. His charismatic speech made what would have otherwise been a quick, short conversation into something that nearly got you in trouble with your managers for “slacking”; not even realizing you’d spent half an hour chatting away with the man. He had initially leaned into the counter and asked for your opinion on the restaurant, his attentiveness to your thoughts about something as trivial as a local diner’s greasy food making your cheeks heat up (even the tone of voice he had when asking; smooth and kind). From there the conversation continued, until that half hour ended with him sheepishly apologizing to your irritated manager and asking you for your phone number, to keep chatting at a more convenient time. Your hand was a bit shaky while you wrote it down for him on a sticky note, even signing it with your name and adding a cheeky little heart in the corner–his charm seemed to have rubbed off on you, giving you the confidence to add the little detail. His fingers brushed against yours as you handed it to him, exchanging smiles, with his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer, before he exited the premises.

With that meeting as your first–despite the captivating aura he possessed–he hadn’t even really set a high standard in your head just yet; perhaps due to you always being disappointed by past men who would seem too good to be true, just like this, but then eventually reveal their true intentions, and how they were directed to your body instead of you. Yet this man seemed to check every box; he was not too good to be true.

Your first date brought you both to a cafe, and you could recall the weather that day being quite dreary.You’d ordered a chai tea to keep yourself warm, the rain that pattered against the window at the side of your booth being easily tuned out by your heart-to-heart with the man who had introduced himself to you as Chrollo.

“Did your work dinner go well?” you asked, fingers clasped around your mug as you brought it to your lips. The heat of the tea warmed your insides, giving you that “warm and fuzzy” feeling, though you were certain that the sensation was coming from a different source.

Chrollo smiled at you. “It was… alright. I should have expected nothing more from a diner, I figured that your description of the place as greasy was meant for the restaurant, not the food.” He then made a minorly disgusted expression as he reminisced, making you giggle, which was followed by his own fond chuckle at your reaction.

“A greasy restaurant? Like what, the workers or something?”

“I guess so… I don’t know. I guess I was just so entranced by you last we spoke that I wasn’t thinking straight” he rubbed his neck bashfully. You couldn’t help but try to hide your face in your hand, cheeks lighting up at his words.

“There’s no need to be such a sweet talker” you chuckled shyly, not missing how his face softened even further at the sight of you becoming so flustered so easily. Something flashed in his eyes then, something you took as mutual infatuation. His hand reached towards the one you had covering your cheek, bringing it down to the table and holding it there briefly. He slowly raised it to his lips, kissing your knuckles while maintaining eye contact. If his words were enough to have you a ruffled mess, his actions caused that tenfold. You were certain that your entire head was fuming red by now, his actions rendering you speechless. He lowered your hand again, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

“If you find the truth in my words to be sweet talking, I’m delighted to make you feel that way.”

That date led to many more, and after about a month and a half you two had agreed upon exclusivity; a relationship. At first, you hadn’t expected anything this serious to ever come of your whirlwind romance, especially since your first-ever conversation with him implied to you that he was not from your city, and that he was only visiting for a time. As you got to know him further, he explained to you that while it was difficult for him to let you know exactly what he does for work, he and his employees travelled for it all of the time by his call, and he had decided that after meeting you, this city was where he wanted to stay. You were more than happy to let him reside with you in your apartment, and he accepted your offer with utmost gratitude (he still expresses thanks to you to this day). Knowing that it was convenient for him to continue his life and job as normal, while deciding to be with you, made your heart swell with a sort-of pride, you were absolutely enamoured. Nobody had ever made such a grave decision for you before, and that wasn’t his only one. He was utterly devoted to you, being with Chrollo was like being with a prince you could have only ever imagined being present in a fairytale. It made you feel as though holding off on relationships for most of your life was worth it, that divine timing had given you your person right when it was supposed to happen.

There had been one too many dates when he decided to unexpectedly bring you gifts, usually a piece of jewellery that you knew had to be more expensive than what could account for months worth of rent for your apartment. You were still unsure of his exact job by now, but you knew his wage must have been extremely high to be able to afford these things for you. You almost felt guilty for not being able to return the favour with anything of the same calibre, yet he insisted that your love was more than enough–or as he said in particular; more than he deserved. He always pampered you, offering you a massage or running you a bath if you had a particularly rough day at work; though knowing that you’d come home to him and that alluring smile made rougher work days slowly become a thing of the past, your anticipation of seeing your lover again outweighing any anxiety or frustration that your job would try to inflict upon you. He was always attentive to your needs, making food for you that he knew you preferred, and ensuring to correct it (or send it back, depending on the circumstances) if it wasn’t to your liking. He was also attentive to your other needs, giving you whatever you wanted whenever you wanted it, while being respectful of any boundaries you set. He was the closest thing that you could ever compare to perfect. And it was because of his respect for you, that you had never questioned something that has burned itself into your curiosity, you tended to wonder about it all the time; why did he always wear that makeshift bandana around his forehead? you had never seen him without it. Although, plenty of people had one particular fashion staple in most of their outfits, so you’d left your curiosities at that. You couldn’t deny that it looked really good on him anyways.

Your whine was stifled by Chrollo’s lips as he lifted his chest off of yours, resting on his elbows as he pulled his softening cock out of you. He broke the kiss to sit back fully, you instantly missing the warmth of his body and reaching out for him. He chuckled hoarsely, linking his fingers with yours.

“I’ll be back in a minute, okay? I’m just going to get a cloth for you.” You nodded when he squeezed your hand tenderly before feeling his weight leave the bed. It was a bit late into the night, late enough for it to be completely black outside; the only visibility coming from the street lights that illuminated a small area of your bedroom, the silhouette of falling snow making you feel serene. You watched through your eyelashes as Chrollo walked to the bathroom, observing how he leisurely turned on the light, wrapped his black bath robe around himself, and grabbed a small wash cloth. Your eyes drifted closed as your body continued to come down from the high you had just felt, listening to Chrollo turn on the tap, feeling relaxed by the sound of running water. Chrollo wet the material with warm water as he had done for you in the past, and you could hear him sauntering back to you after the tap was turned off and the cloth was wrung out, lightly tapping you on the thigh to get your attention. You had subconsciously closed your legs while waiting for him, now parting them slightly and feeling Chrollo’s cum seep out of you, making a lewd chill run across your body at the sensation. He always knew just how to make love to you; leaving you so pleasantly exhausted right after climaxing that you had to fight to stay awake. Chrollo always let you rest, but he insisted on cleaning and caring for you first so you could fall asleep comfortably. Your eyes squinted open as he wiped you off, watching him as he focused on ensuring your comfort. As your once sweaty body began to dry, and the cold weather started to make itself familiar to you again, goosebumps rose all across your body. This went slightly unnoticed by Chrollo when he stood and turned to dispose of the rag. You shivered and reached out to halt him, hand wrapped loosely around his wrist and catching his attention as he looked back to you curiously.

“Cold” you complained with a quiet tone, voice a bit shaky as another chill rattled your body when you spoke. Chrollo grinned sympathetically at you, leaning forward and placing a kiss on your forehead, the warmth of his lips bringing you comfort. “Let me get you something to wear, then we’ll sleep.”

You relented and released his arm with a nod, arms coming over your chest so you could rub your arms and try to heat up, though Chrollo never kept you waiting for long whenever you needed something. He walked away once again and your eyes had fluttered shut from fatigue while you waited, the idea of sleep beginning to seduce you more and more. You noted Chrollo’s return as you felt him guide your arms above your head, helping you into one of his long sleeved tops (you could tell it was his from the lingering scent of his cologne near the neckline as it went over your nose). Then he slid a pair of boyshort panties up your legs, making sure the waistband hung on a comfortable spot along your hips before squeezing them sweetly and joining you on the bed once again. You let your eyes strain open one last time so you could follow his movements and slot yourself against his side, head on his chest and leg hiked over his torso as he laid on his back against the pillows. He lifted a heavy blanket over top of yourselves, arms coming together around your body to hold you even closer.

“We’ll have to get a new heater for you, love. You’re freezing now, and I thought I had warmed you up quite well” he murmured with a soft chuckle as his hand moved to stroke along your thigh, watching the bumps raise as his chilly fingers trailed along your skin.

“I didn’t even know it was on. Didn’t think it was that bad” you muttered, lips squished against his torso slurring your speech. Chrollo smiled at your response, and one of his hands left you to reach at the night table, your ears perking up to the swish of pages from a book as he brought it to his side. You knew he had planned to read and write for a bit, something you didn’t need to open your eyes to know about since he did it almost every night.

“I’ll write it down here so we don’t forget.” You then heard scribbles of the small pen that he kept like a bookmark inside of the journal. You intended to at least nod in acknowledgement to what he said, but sleep was starting to welcome you with open arms, and you had trouble resisting. Chrollo could tell that you had fallen asleep by the slowness in your breathing, only bringing a hand up to caress your hair to lull you deeper.

Typically, your sleep after sex with Chrollo was solid, and you were a considerably heavy sleeper during, though for some reason tonight was different. Perhaps it was due to the cold winter air, but when you awoke, you didn’t feel as cold anymore, your body seemed to have equalized its temperature from the combination of the blanket and Chrollo’s body heat as you slept. Instead, your attention was caught by a sound; a soft buzzing that rang out every other second from somewhere distant in the bedroom. You slowly opened your eyes, and in your fatigue-induced delirium, had not realized that Chrollo was not against you anymore. More specifically; he was no longer in bed, or the room. This alerted you slightly and you looked around, noticing that nothing in the room seemed out of the ordinary aside from his missing presence. That was until you saw his phone resting on top of his book, which had been placed neatly back onto the night stand. The screen was lit up in the darkness, vibrating as if he were getting a call. It was hard to see what was on the screen from your distance, your eyes still a bit foggy, so you began to inch closer to it. Normally, you would never think about invading someone’s privacy like this; especially Chrollo’s, but him not being around confused and concerned you. Not to mention how odd it was for something like this to wake you up, the phone must have been ringing nonstop for minutes for it to have had this much of an impact on your consciousness.

Hesitantly, you rubbed the remaining sleep away from your eyes before crawling over to Chrollo’s side of the bed, slowly grabbing at his phone just as it stopped vibrating. The trembling completely stopped once the device was in your grasp, making no sense to you, since you hadn’t hit any buttons yet. You blinked a few times, the sudden brightness of the screen in an otherwise pitch black room made your eyes burn for a moment. Once your vision adjusted, you saw the time across the top of Chrollo’s wallpaper (a photo of you from a picnic you’d had weeks prior), it said 3:45–meaning it had been nearly 4 hours since you had fallen asleep. The rest of the phone showed just one, untitled notification that took up the rest of the screen:

Look up.

A chill ran down your spine, the notification filling you with unreasonable dread. Phones usually did not ring at the rate that his was unless it were from a caller instead of a texter, and if this had been a genuine text message; it would have been from a contact, and would not be taking up the entire surface of the phone. This felt fabricated, like it was purposeful and meant to be seen by you specifically. Again, you began to feel a bit unreasonable as you sat there, hunched over with your muscles still, neck craned down to the hand in your lap where the phone screen began to dim from not being touched. How pathetic, feeling so startled, just from an unusual phone notification. In the grand scheme of the situation, this was not as unnerving as being alone right now. After rationalizing the odd appearance of Chrollo’s phone, you instead began thinking about a disappearance that was certainly much more important right now…where was he this late at night?

“You’re usually more compliant than that.”

Chrollo’s voice came out of nowhere and you couldn’t help but jolt in surprise, head turning to the bedroom door which you hadn’t realized was wide open this entire time. Because of the darkness, the entire hallway was merely a shadow; you couldn’t see anything. But you knew that his voice had come from there.

“Chrollo?”

“At least, you tend to comply a lot faster than you did just now. If I hadn’t intervened, would you have looked up at all?”

You knitted your eyebrows in confusion, unable to say anything in response to this. What was he doing? You wanted to ask him exactly that, but his emergence from the darkness caught you off guard. He looked… different.

Despite only being illuminated on one side by the street light outside that shone dimly into your bedroom, you saw that his usually shaggy hair was slicked back and off of his forehead, and he wore an outfit you had never seen before. Shirtless, but his fair skin was somewhat covered by a grand coat that lined his neck with fur and ran down to his ankles. He had pants on that could have matched the dark colour of his coat, but you couldn’t see the tone that well in the shade of the room. Though, what was most notable of this sudden appearance change, was the lack of cloth around his head.

You suddenly felt much more awake, eyes shooting up to his forehead and spotting a tattoo that resembled a type-of cross in the centre of it. Your distance from him in the dimness made it hard to fully see in detail, but something about what you could see made you think that this tattoo was heavily symbolic for him. Why else would he have hid it from the public for so long, even hiding it from you this far into your relationship? Your relationship with Chrollo was most stably built upon respect, yet you were unable to stop yourself from immediately asking him exactly what you had been thinking, tone coming out a lot sharper than you had intended:

“Why would you hide that from me for so long?” You had instantly regretted it. He had not reacted right away, nor did he say anything for a moment. Assuming this was because of your suddenness–asking something that truthfully was not your place to ask, especially in that tone–you took your bottom lip between your teeth and gnawed on it nervously; not wanting to say anything else just yet so as to not worsen what damage you’d already inflicted. You hadn’t used a tone like that with him thus far, feeling a little bit guilty despite how obviously it was accidental. But then to your confusion, Chrollo chuckled, beginning a stride into the room, towards you.

“I had to wait until the time was right. You know, a lot of planning had to be done the moment that I picked you. I knew I made the right decision on our first outing together. Everything just had to be done slowly, on the right schedule, but now that most of it has been finalized, I feel that we’re ready.”

His words confused you entirely. He had unloaded too much information at once, your brain completely frazzled by his words.

“What are you talking about?”

Chrollo’s lips pursed then broke into a grin, you hadn’t noticed how quickly he managed to walk over and stand directly in front of you until he was right there, his legs pressing against the edge of the bed as his hands raised to rest in his pockets. You backed off slightly, deciding to keep some distance between you both until the situation started to make more sense. From his new look, to the unusual tone in his words and manner of speech, you felt less comfortable being so close to him. Something was not right with him, you couldn’t tell how serious he was being right now. Was he in the mood for some late night prank?

“My naive little (y/n). You’re just…so perfect for me.” He tilted his head slightly, watching your defensive form with endearment in his eyes. Your knees have been brought to your chest, a hand holding onto one while the other holds you up and off of the pillows.

“You’ll be coming with me from now on, it’s time to leave this place.” He said this with finality, and his voice made it so that; had he said something less irrational, you almost wouldn’t have questioned it, but when his words registered in your brain you had to.

“What? Chrollo, if you want to move we can talk about it. Maybe at a different time, like over dinner or something…not in the middle of the night.” Okay, so if this wasn’t some sort of prank and instead just his proposition to move out with you…why did he decide to do this right now? why could he not have waited until the morning to ask you this…you were tired! Yet Chrollo’s expression unnerved you as he smiled in a way that would have usually made you blush, had the circumstances been different.

“You really are adorable. Come here.”

He kneeled onto the bed, sitting on the side opposite of you while extending his hand. You still felt uneasy about this, the vagueness of what he was telling you left you with more questions than any kind of answers. For the sake of getting to the bottom of what he was doing, what was going on, you took your time as you scooted closer to him, placing your hand flat on top of his palm. He then placed his other hand on top of yours, effectively trapping it between both of his. His grip wasn’t painful or anything, but you knew that it would take some effort to get out of it without him just letting you go. You usually would never consider taking your hands away from him, yet you felt the need to be guarded right now.

“Have we ever talked about the Phantom Troupe?”

He looked right into your eyes as he waited for your answer. You shook your head no, and were not looking forward to wherever this conversation was going. You knew of the phantom troupe and what they do; what they’ve done. What’s with bringing this up out of nowhere? You two never talked about such obscure topics, he knew how you felt about injustices. Bringing up a group that embodies the word was something you hadn’t expected him to do.

“A pity. But I suppose it’s never too late.”

His grip tightened on your hand then. The squeeze was so hard, it now ensured that your hand was stuck where it was; you were connected to him until he allowed you to be let go.

“Chrollo, my hand–” you whimpered.

“You’ve always been alone. You’re an outcast, just like the rest of us.”

Ouch. Naturally with being in a relationship, you’d spoken to him about many personal woes, especially your lack of a real family, your lack of genuine, close friends. You always told him how much joy it brought you to finally be able to go on outings with someone who meant the world to you, and you to them–that someone being Chrollo. Your throat started to swell and your eyes watered. An outcast? He had never spoken to you this way before, insecurity plagued you.

“Why…would you say that to me?”

“Because it’s what makes you so perfect. It was fate that brought us together, (y/n). Now that we’re established, it’s time you hear the truth and continue your life the way it was meant to be lived.” His hand on top of yours rubbed along the side of your wrist soothingly.

“It doesn’t have to be an official inauguration, but I’d like for you to join me and the rest of the spiders.”

He barely gave you any time to fathom the weight of that sentence before he continued.

“I truly do love you, (y/n). I wouldn’t have stayed in one place for such a long time if not for you. It posed a bit of a risk at points, trying to operate in such a small town for longer than the duration of our initial mission. But this era has reached its end, it’s time to go home.”

He stopped talking then, allowing silence to fall, to let his words linger for a bit. Your eyes slowly panned down and away from him as you stared off blankly, yet your mind raced at a mile a minute. Your boyfriend…your angelic, loving and devoted boyfriend, was a member of the phantom troupe. By that same logic, he was a criminal, with a Class-A bounty on his head. And now, he wanted you to come with him as he continued his rampage in other places of the world. Your heart thrummed rapidly, ears ringing and chest beginning to heave laboured breaths as the reality of this situation truly dawned on you. Chrollo, who you had been vulnerable with, showed tender parts of your heart and body, was a lie. He was not who he claimed to be, yet you had been so utterly fooled. Naive, like he said you were.

You were certain that he could feel your hand beginning to clam up, and you started to drag it out of his grasp. As expected, his grip had not let up just yet, your effort futile. You imagined that maybe if you expressed your want to be let go, he would. Forcing yourself to meet his eyes, you hated how different they looked. Eyes that were usually tender and loving, or so you thought–maybe they never truly were tender or loving–now looked much darker. Narrowed, sharp and focused right on you. He still seemed so definitive in his words, in his decision to “bring you home,” wherever that may be.

“I…” you started, your throat dry and making the syllable sound more like a crack in your voice. You swallowed hard then cleared your throat, not wanting to have to repeat yourself once you had said what you planned to say, since you were beginning to feel ill. You hadn’t noticed that your eyes had shut immediately after catching sight of his stare, in a subconscious way to cower away from the intensity of it. You forced yourself to be brave and stare back right back at him once again, though anyone else with eyes could tell your bravery was a front.

“I…will not be going with you. That lifestyle is not for m–”

“Of course you would think that you have a choice” he cut you off and chortled, despite his tone being humourless, almost disappointed. You didn’t like the sound of it. “It was cute of you to think so. You don’t need to partake in the lifestyle, but you’ll be at my side no matter where we spiders go.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and panic began to seep in. You really did not want any part of this anymore, and you started pulling away from his hold even harder now. The finality of his words made you anxious, your once watery eyes now fully shedding tears. You thrashed back and dug your feet into the mattress, exerting as much strength as possible into getting away from him. If you blinked you would have missed it; Chrollo smirking from the corner of where your eyes were focused on your interlocked hands, before he slightly loosened his grip. With the amount of power being put into your squirming, it caused you to fly against the pillows and land on your back away from him, skull having been inches away from hitting the headboard. He was on top of you in an instant, and you immediately recoiled and tried to wiggle away from him, but he had managed to pin down your limbs.

“Chrollo, please don’t make me go with you, I’m happy here! I’ll keep your secret, if you just leave me behind, I promise–” He leaned closer to you as you became hysterical, the unexpected proximity making you panic as you hiccuped, trying so desperately to wriggle out from under him and just run. “I’m used to being alone like you said, you can leave me here, I won’t hold it against you!” you sobbed.

“Don’t cry, my love.” He brought up his hand to thumb at the tears dripping down your cheek, and you despised how quickly the feeling of his palm against your face managed to calm your hysterics down–as if none of this had actually happened–that the man caressing your face was indeed the same Chrollo you knew and fell in love with. But his appearance alone helped you to know better; that tattoo now becoming his most prominent feature as he stared down at you. Your body stilled for the most part, aside from the rise and fall of your chest in quick succession, as well as your quiet cries.

“I’m begging you…” you whispered, sniffling and taking a deep breath to try and regulate it. The look on Chrollo’s face could almost be described as sympathetic, eyebrows meeting sadly as his hand pressed further into your cheek. But you were starting to know better.

“I know that you’ve been alone for your entire life.” He began to speak, his hand slowly sliding down from your cheek and closer to your neck. The change in placement made you whimper; this being an action he’d done to you in the past that you had learned to associate with pleasure, but now filled you with dread.

Before you could say anything else, not even a second had passed, and suddenly there was a horrible sensation in your throat, like you had been punched. You groaned, and it should have been audible, yet you couldn’t make a sound–your vocal chords had somehow been struck. Your eyes widened in fear and confusion as you tried to make a noise, anything at all, only to remain silent. What just happened?

Your pain made it so that you had barely noticed how Chrollo’s hand seemed to have moved positions within that time–not quite in the same spot as it was before–it was a bit lower on your neck now and closer to your collarbones. His fingers wrapped against the side of your neck, his thumb rubbing along your throat. He wore a much too prideful smile, and it was in that moment that you realized what kind of power Chrollo had secretly been capable of; what he had over you. No matter what you wanted, if it was different from what he desired, there would be nothing you could do.

He leaned even closer to you, hand starting to squeeze around your throat painfully as your eyes screwed shut. He dug his thumb hard into the side of your trachea, forcing your eyes wide open as pain cramped under the pressure of his hand. Your vision began to strain, periphery darkening. His nose brushed against yours as he murmured his next words, which you almost missed as reality began to black out around you.

“I promise, you’ll never be alone again.”

#✧meyou #✧musinghxhmasterlist #chrollo #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #phantom troupe #hxh #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh chrollo #hunter x hunter x reader #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x you

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sunshinesmebdy · 4 months

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Moon in Sagittarius: Unleashing Your Business’s Inner Explorer ♐️

Get ready to break free from conventional thinking and embrace bold opportunities, because the Moon in Sagittarius is here to stir things up in the business world! This fiery transit ignites our sense of adventure, optimism, and expansion, making it an ideal time to explore new markets, launch innovative projects, and tap into your entrepreneurial spirit.

Fueling the Fire of Innovation:

Think big: Moon in Sagittarius encourages dreaming big and setting ambitious goals. This is the perfect time to brainstorm disruptive ideas, explore uncharted territories, and identify untapped potential within your market.

Challenge the status quo: Don’t be afraid to question traditional methods and embrace innovative approaches. Experiment with new marketing strategies, explore diverse partnerships, and push the boundaries of your comfort zone.

Network like a pro: Sagittarius loves connection and exploration. Use this transit to network with diverse individuals, attend industry conferences, and participate in collaborative projects. You might just stumble upon unexpected opportunities.

Riding the Wave of Optimism:

Build brand enthusiasm: This transit breeds optimism and contagious energy. Infuse your brand messaging with positivity, showcase your company’s unique value proposition, and inspire customers with your vision for the future.

Invest in growth: Feeling confident and optimistic? Consider strategic investments, expand your product line, or launch new marketing campaigns. Remember, calculated risks can lead to significant rewards under this transit.

Turn challenges into opportunities: Optimism is key to navigating setbacks. Use the Sagittarian spirit to approach challenges with a creative mindset and turn them into stepping stones for future success.

Navigating the Potential Pitfalls:

Overpromising and underdelivering: Don’t get carried away by the Sagittarian enthusiasm. Ensure your ambitious plans are grounded in reality and backed by a solid strategy.

Ignoring the details: While dreaming big is important, neglecting the practical details can lead to failure. Balance big-picture thinking with meticulous planning and execution.

Impulsive decision-making: The fast-paced energy of this transit can tempt you to rush into decisions. Take a deep breath, analyze all aspects carefully, and avoid impulsive actions that could harm your business.

Extra Tips for Thriving Under the Moon in Sagittarius:

Ignite Innovation:

Brainstorming sessions: Gather your team for a session fueled by creative thinking games, mind maps, and outlandish ideas.

Industry research: Dive deep into emerging trends and technologies that could disrupt your market.

Collaborate with experts: Partner with individuals who bring diverse perspectives and innovative approaches to your field.

Embrace Optimism:

Celebrate wins, big and small: Boost team morale by acknowledging achievements and fostering a positive work environment.

Share customer success stories: Highlight how your product or service makes a positive impact on others.

Offer special promotions: Use the transit’s positive energy to attract new customers with limited-time offers and discounts.

Navigate Pitfalls:

Create a feasibility assessment checklist: Before embarking on ambitious projects, assess potential risks and ensure you have the resources to see them through.

Seek feedback from experienced mentors: Get reality checks and valuable insights from trusted advisors.

Implement a phased approach: Break down large projects into smaller, manageable steps to avoid feeling overwhelmed.

Bonus Tip: Tap into the lucky energy of this transit by starting new ventures, launching marketing campaigns, or making important financial decisions during the Moon’s peak phase (usually the Full Moon).

Remember, the Moon in Sagittarius is a fleeting transit, but its impact can be long-lasting. By harnessing its adventurous spirit, optimistic outlook, and innovative energy, you can unlock new horizons for your business and set yourself on a path of sustainable growth. So, embrace the explorer within, challenge the status quo, and watch your business thrive under the lucky light of the Moon in Sagittarius!

Do you have any experiences with the Moon in Sagittarius affecting your business? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

#moon in sagittarius #astrology updates #astro #astrology facts #astro notes #astrology #astro girlies #astro posts #astrology community #astropost #astrology observations #astro observations #astro community #astrology notes #business astrology #astrology business #business horoscopes

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acceptccnow · 8 months

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The Future of Payment Processing in High-Risk Sectors

Article by Jonathan Bomser | CEO | Accept-Credit-Cards-Now.com

In today's swiftly evolving digital sphere, payment processing takes on a pivotal role in the prosperity of enterprises across diverse sectors. One particular niche demanding a bespoke approach is high-risk payment processing. From e-commerce enterprises to credit restoration services and the burgeoning CBD market, navigating the intricate terrain of high-risk sectors necessitates a state-of-the-art solution. In this article, we will delve into the prospects of payment processing for high-risk industries, elucidating the critical role played by merchant accounts, payment gateways, and credit card processing services.

DOWNLOAD THE FUTURE OF PAYMENT PROCESSING INFOGRAPHIC HERE

The Transformation of High-Risk Payment Processing To grasp the future of high-risk payment processing, it's prudent to first acknowledge the journey so far. Traditional payment processing systems frequently hesitated to engage with high-risk enterprises due to their associated heightened risks. Nevertheless, with technological progress and an increasing acceptance of these sectors, payment processors have adapted.

The Significance of Merchant Accounts Merchant accounts have emerged as the bedrock of high-risk payment processing. They provide enterprises with a platform for accepting various payment methods, including credit card payments. Merchant accounts furnish the essential stability and credibility that high-risk sectors require to flourish.

The Role of Payment Gateways Payment gateways serve as the conduit between your online store and the customer's financial institution. They play a pivotal role in ensuring secure and efficient transactions. Payment gateway solutions tailored for high-risk enterprises have evolved to cater to the distinctive needs of these sectors, offering augmented security features and fraud prevention measures.

High-Risk Credit Card Processing High-risk credit card processing represents a game-changing advancement for enterprises operating in more precarious industries. It facilitates the acceptance of credit card payments, delivering convenience to customers and fueling sales. Equipped with rigorous security protocols and advanced technology, high-risk credit card processing is laying the foundation for a safer and more secure payment environment.

E-commerce Payment Processing The realm of e-commerce is witnessing a surge in growth, and with it comes an escalated demand for seamless e-commerce payment processing. High-risk businesses in this domain necessitate dependable solutions capable of handling substantial transaction volumes without compromising on security. Thankfully, payment processors are stepping up to the plate, offering tailor-made e-commerce merchant accounts attuned to the distinct prerequisites of these enterprises.

Credit Repair Payment Processing Credit restoration services frequently operate in a high-risk milieu. Nevertheless, the demand for credit repair merchant processing is undeniable. As consumers seek to enhance their credit scores, these enterprises require specialized payment solutions equipped to handle the delicate nature of their services.

youtube

CBD Payment Processing The CBD industry teeters on the precipice of explosive growth, but it's accompanied by its own set of challenges, notably regulatory intricacies. CBD payment processing is the linchpin for unleashing the potential of this sector. High-risk payment processors are stepping forward to furnish customized solutions, enabling CBD enterprises to accept credit card payments and extend their customer base.

The outlook for payment processing in high-risk sectors is bright and promising. With continual technological advancement, the payment processing landscape will become even more accommodating to enterprises in these domains. From the acceptance of credit cards for CBD to the provision of credit repair merchant account solutions, payment processors are spearheading a transformation in the way high-risk enterprises conduct their operations. Embracing these innovations is not a mere choice; it's an imperative for enterprises aiming to thrive in this dynamic milieu.

#high risk merchant account #high risk payment gateway #high risk payment processing #merchant processing #payment processing #credit card payment #credit card processing #accept credit cards #payment #Youtube

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silent-dragon · 9 months

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TWST OC Group Profile - "Rococo Tails"

Sharptooth,Spencer Ryan,Lady Palm

Rococo Tails

A beauty product & rare magical item selling service owned by Sharptooth and managed by his close friends,Lady Palm & Spencer Ryan.

_________

Name - Sharptooth

Physical Age - 23

Birthday - 10/5

Zodiac - Virgo

Gender - Male

Species - Half Fae

Height - 253cm/8'3"

Eye Color - Sandy Yellow

Hair Color - Deep Mossy Green

Orientation - Bisexual

Homeland - Port O'Bliss(?)

Family - Has Ties to the Zigvolt family

Twist of Crocodile from One Piece

School - Death's Academy of Combat

Dorm - Nakaumi

Year - 4th

Best Subject - Alchemy

Occupation - Business Owner

Favorite Food - Crocodile,Tomatoes

Likes - Cigars,Rings,Crocodiles,Leather,His Business,Lady Palm's History Speeches,Spencer Ryan's Eyes,Money,Spoiling Others,Biting Chewy Surfaces,Dressing Fancy,Yachts,Making People Earn Things,Dogs(Pugs mainly)

Dislikes - Sudden Rain Showers,Sweet Condiments,Losing Money

Unique Magic - "Sandy Suna" - Can turn his entire body into sand he can control and use to shield himself from impact. Can also dry up the moisture of anything that has it with his right hand…if he wants to.

Personality - Comes off as a laid-back chill dude. Doesn't speak much unless spoken too or sees a reason to as his voice can scare you if not ready. He is a businessman and a good one so has all the traits of being sneaky,greedy,and cruel to get what he wants if deal business with him. Has a habit of answering others requests for help with a "Earn It" condition. You've got to earn his assistance/gratitude/love,it's not free.

Bio - A wealthy large biting scarred man that in quite a few port towns is known as "Sharptooth" owner of Rococo Tails,a luxury beauty product and magical items selling service. Loves to see happy customers continue to use his services and invites new ones to try it out whatever they need. He is a good guy…trust him…but never cross him or may get bit.

_________

Name - Spencer Ryan

Age - 20

Birthday - 8/15

Zodiac - Leo

Gender - Androgynous but presents as male usually

Species - Human

Height - 238cm/7'10"

Eye Color - Ocean Blue

Hair Color - Bubblegum Pink

Orientation - Gay

Homeland - Queendom of Roses

Twist of Bentham from One Piece

School - Death's Academy of Combat

Dorm - Nakaumi

Year - 3rd

Best Subject - Physical Education

Occupation - Makeup Brand Manager,Ballet Dancer,Martial Artist

Favorite Food - Parfaits & Green Tea

Likes - Swans,Dance,Singing,Fashion,Pink,Training,Makeup,Gracefulness,Sharptooth's Grin,Theater Plays,Romance Movies,Making Friends,Outgoing People,Classical/Dance Music,Feminine Aesthetics

Dislikes - Serious & Single Minded People,Unfriendliness

Unique Magic - "Mimic Love" - Can shapeshift himself into perfect lookalikes of other humanoid beings so long as he touches them with his right hand. Has stored a lot of faces and his current face is a combination of others he put together. Doesn't ever talk about this UM as he can't remember his own face any more.

Personality - He has a flamboyant outlook. Always doing the most whatever he wants he is a free spirit. Highly social and loves friends,doing anything with them. He would defend a friend he met 5 min ago from anything. Respects those that show him big kindness like Sharptooth who seems like someone who wouldn't. Is a big flirt as well but waits for others to approach him first before he does anything.

Bio - The secret master of disguise and kicking martial arts. He has a happy do what I want attitude and wants others to be happy too so his friends get all the attention to ensure their well being. He dreams to become a professional makeup artist,theater actor,and drag queen later in life. He always says he is graceful like a swan but also as deadly.

_________

Name - Lady Palm

Age - 21

Birthday - 2/6

Zodiac - Aquarius

Gender - Female

Species - Human

Height - 188cm/6'2"

Orientation - Bisexual

Homeland - Sunset Savanna

Twist of Nico Robin from One Piece

School - Death's Academy of Combat

Dorm - Nakaumi

Year - 3rd

Best Subject - History

Occupation - Service Manager,Hand Model,Archaeologist

Favorite Food - Sandwich & Soba

Likes - Ancient Artifacts,Archaeology,Reading,Sunbathing,Cooking,Dancing,Organizing Stuff,Listening to Audiobooks,Open Tops,Knee Boots,Sharptooth's Scars,Cute Small Animals,Memorization,Monsters

Dislikes - Her Past,Spencer Ryan(Halfly),Not Understanding Jokes

Unique Magic - "Endless Bodywork" - She can multiply any of her body parts for what seems like endlessly but most seen is like 10 arms and such. Her extra parts can appear on her body,other's bodies,and surfaces so long as she can see them. Usually can see her using extra arms to do tasks/work faster. Can double her hearing if multiply her ears.

Personality - She is very calm to the point it's eerie to some. Lacks showing fear even when she should her face stays stone faced. So focused on history she doesn't get most modern things like jokes or slang go over her head and frustrate her sometimes til she figures it out. Has a habit of saying/thinking of the worst possible outcome of a situation without knowing how disturbed others are from what she said. Can talk for hours about history as it's her passion but that may annoy you if only trying to rizz her up which she has no clue about much as only history lovers tend to stay near her.

Bio - The voluptuous calm history lady as some call her. Has a knack for knowing how the world works from all her research on its history. She almost always knows the history of any object,animal,or person by memory and if not will get to work learning it. Loves her job as it helps her learn new things she wouldn't study otherwise. Not shy to speak what's on her mind and uses her UM in front of others without warning so seeing her with extra limbs is a normal thing to those that pay attention.

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland #twst fanschool #twst fandorm #oc profile #group profile #long post #dac #death's academy of combat #nakaumi #sharptooth #spencer ryan #lady palm #one piece crocodile #one piece bon clay #one piece nico robin #one piece

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thebreakfastgenie · 11 months

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People have the most deranged reactions to other people caring about tumblr's financial situation. If you enjoy a service and want to continue using it, you want it to be financially solvent and stay in business. There's this really bizarre idea that anyone who says anything positive about tumblr, even as basic as "I like this platform and don't want it to go away," is somehow being tricked by a devious corporation and not a customer with a normal, realistic outlook. And then these same people try to guilt-trip people for suggesting spending money on tumblr features while not donating to their crowdfunding posts. Where are they planning to ask strangers for money if tumblr goes bankrupt and ceases to exist?

#i'm vaguing here lol

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adeadlyobsession · 1 year

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As Good Neighbours Do Part 2

This is the second part of the wheelchair user reader requested by Anon, I hope you will like it! According to my planning, there should be between a total of 3 or 4 parts remaining to this story, the last part being some kind of spicy 👀, so stay tuned for that! Let me know what you think!

Part 1 - Requests are Open!

Tom Riddle was quite eager to find his bed after another long day of work. The actual workload at Borgins and Burkes wasn’t too heavy, but the amount of customer service he had to do, keeping the front of the store and going to pureblood witches and wizards houses to assess their goods were taking a toll on him. Cracks began to appear into the mask he had learnt to wear like a second skin during his school years, and while the owners of the shop didn’t seem to find any problems with his quick wits and his sarcastic demeanor, that was not the case with most customers, who were of a higher breed and wouldn’t take kindly to being spoken thus by someone still considered a mudblood in the eyes of most. He vowed to change their outlook sooner rather than later.

As he climbed the stairs to his apartment, he looked down at the crass windows (if they could be called that) of the basement, wondering about the girl he had seen a week ago. A woman now, he should probably say. Y/N Y/L/N had grown in beauty and elegance, her clothes well tailored, enhancing the way she sat with poise and distinction in her wheelchair. The device itself made her impossible to forget, the only student requiring the mastery of levitation to be able to navigate her way through the multiple stairs of the school. Tom had thought at first it must have been cruel to her to let her do all that adaptation on her own rather than to transfigure parts of the school for her use, but he had seen the girl refuse help time and time again and learnt that she seemed quite content being able to do things on her own. He himself had never offered his help, especially not when he was still trying to make his own name within Slytherin, and as he was witness to more than a few times, he was rather glad he never did. Y/L/N had a rather mean cursing habit for a Hufflepuff, especially against those Gryffindors and other Hufflepuffs who refused to see her as anyone truly capable, insisting to help her sometimes to the point of harassment just so they could fulfill their saviour complex. When he thought about the reasons for her living in Knockturn Alley now, it really made sense that she would enjoy the kind of *laisser vivre* that was the unwritten rule of the whole street.

He stopped climbing the stairs and began the trek back to ground level. Perhaps it was time for him to pay a little visit to another Hogwarts alumni, as good neighbours do.

*****

A house elf opened the door to let him in, despite Y/L/N not being present. How strange, he thought, especially in such a neighbourhood.

“Miss Y/N will be back shortly, she has been held back at the Department of Mysteries, but she said Mister Tom Riddle was to be welcomed in shall he desired so.”

Ah. Well, that would explain, Tom thought, while softly cursing Hufflepuff’s open trust of others. He stepped inside the apartment and abruptly stopped, shocked.

“Would Mister Tom Riddle like some tea?”

Tom didn’t even register what the house elf had said, too busy taking in the sheer vastness of the flat, the tall stained glass windows depicting scenes of old myths and legends, the library spanning the entire opposite wall and… was it a balcony leading to the beach? A pull at his pant leg brought him back to the moment.

“Is Mister Tom Riddle alright? Shall I fetch a potion?”

Tom shook his head, pasting a smile onto his lips to hide his awe.

“That will not be necessary… What is your name?”

“This one was given the name Remy, Mister Tom Riddle.”

Tom nodded and moved deeper into the space, seating himself onto a comfortable reading chair.

“Remy. You said your mistress is at the Department of Mysteries. What is she doing there?”

The elf nodded and brought him a cup of tea Tom eagerly took, swallowing a long sip, but before Remy had a chance to respond, a familiar voice answered.

“I work there.”

*******

Despite how tired you felt after your long day at work, the latest results of your research proved particularly encouraging. You had finally managed to create a spell that would enlarge the smallest coin pouch into something akin to infinity, and the Minister for Magic himself had deemed it right to show up and test your invention for himself. He immediately gave you the task to create enough of these for the entire Auror taskforce, and the negotiation for the scheduling of those took about an hour more of talk, the Minister not understanding that your invention still needed to be tested properly before release, especially to a team that dealt with such delicate items such as evidence and other potentially dangerous stock.

At last, you got home, ready to enjoy Remy’s menu as well as a warm bath, but a certain neighbour had decided to change your plans. As you rolled through the door, you caught sight of his wide eyes, looking around your apartment as if he had never seen such magic before. Perhaps he hadn’t, at least not in any real measure outside of Hogwarts, you thought with a sad smile. When he questioned your house elf about your whereabout, his previous awe now hidden behind an affable expression, you decided to make your presence known.

“I work there.”

You watched as Riddle quickly got up, as though he shouldn’t have been resting in your absence, but you reassured him with a lazy wave of your hand.

“Please, stay seated, I’ll just refresh myself in my room and I will be back.”

He sat back down, hesitating, but nodded.

“I apologize, I shouldn’t have come unannounced.”

You pulled a switch on the side of the stairs, all the planks reassembling themselves into a ramp.

“Don’t be absurd, I am happy to see you here. It’ll only take a moment.”

And it did. You had managed to make rolling up and down the stairs a breeze after many trials and errors, some of them sending you to the Hospital Wing when you would get the velocity wrong back when you were still at Hogwarts. It was by simple commodity that you got the spell into an on-and-off switch in your home after you noticed it regularly exhausted your magic to do it too often. The entire motion needed, after all, the constant control of not just one but three different spells. As for changing into your evening garment, that didn’t necessitate any energy at all by now. You were back in Riddle’s company after barely a minute.

“How did you manage to make an entire second floor when you live in a basement?”

You took the cup of tea Remy gave you and sipped at it to hide an amused smile.

“Magic,” you said.

Riddle sent you a most impassive look, clearly annoyed by your lack of a true response. You snorted, unable to keep your delight at his reaction, which had the merit of putting a small smile back onto his face.

“If you must know, I am on my way to obtaining a Mastery in Transfiguration. I was chosen to learn my trade at the Department of Mystery after they learnt I managed to transfigure Hogwarts for my needs in my seventh year.”

That managed to catch Riddle’s full attention, and he bent his upper body towards you, the same glint in his eyes you had sometimes seen when he would get taken by an interesting book at the library.

“You transfigured Hogwarts? I thought it was impossible to do, with all the wards woven into the walls.”

“I transfigured parts of Hogwarts,” you corrected. “Only the stairs.”

“Again, I thought it was impossible. How did you do it?”

“I got inspired by the way the stairs would turn into slides when boys tried to climb their way up to the girl’s dorms. I simply tapped into the magical wards there and tried to replicate the magic onto other stairs.”

You stopped talking, sipping at your tea again as you gathered your thoughts to say something you always meant to but never had the chance before now.

“I should thank you for that, by the way. I wouldn’t have figured out how to do this if it wasn’t for you.”

He looked taken aback by your comment, looking at the liquid in his cup in confusion.

“Thank me? How so? I don’t think we ever interacted at Hogwarts.”

You smiled, putting your cup on the table next to you before waving a book from your library towards you.

“Do you remember this book, Mr. Riddle?” You asked, offering him the heavy tome.

“Tom,” he said absentmindedly, his whole attention onto the book he took from your hand.

Most Advanced Uses of Runic Transfiguration, the title read. He was frowning at the cover, turning the book into his hand to look at the back and the spine, as if they would hold more information.

“I think I do,” he finally said. “Not that I had any use of it apparently, since I have been pretty good at memorizing the books that have proven beneficial to me.”

He looked up at you, still frowning.

“How does this have to do with me?” He asked.

You took the book back from his hand, caressing the spine before lowering it on your lap.

“When I was in fourth year, somewhere before Christmas, I saw you leave a book at your usual table at the library. I was curious about your readings, since I have heard of your skills in class, as most of us did. It was a book on Charms, I cannot remember the title of it now, but I remember a lot of the spells in there helped me win my very first duel in class. Ever since, every book I saw you read and left behind, I read as well.”

You lifted the book from your lap.

“And this book is one of them.”

As you looked at him, the way his eyes bore into yours made it seem as if he was seeing you for the first time. You chuckled, suddenly unsure it had been a good idea to tell him at all. For all you knew, now he believed you to be another one of those girls who sometimes followed him just for a glimpse of his beauty. You could feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment at the thought.

“I apologize, I don’t want you to think I have been stalking you.”

“Haven’t you?”

You relaxed at the sight of the smirk that grew onto his face as he sat deeper into his chair, swinging one leg over the other. You rolled your eyes at him, your own smile never leaving your face.

“Of course not, my interest has always been purely academic,” you retorted teasingly, sitting straighter in your chair in the way your mother had taught you.

“Oh I am sure,” he said, and your cheeks reddened some more as you realized he was now flirting with you, winking in your direction.

“Would Mister Tom Riddle like to stay for dinner?” Your traitorous house elf asked, popping in from the kitchen where you could smell the mouth watering waft of steak pie.

“It would be my pleasure,” Tom responded, sending you a look that begged to be challenged.

You refused to take the bait and nodded most agreeably.

“Prepare the table for our guest, Remy, we shall use the dining room.”

Remy nodded and disappeared with a small pop.

Thank you so much for reading! Next part we are going back to Tom's pov (love writing those, please let me know if you want fics exclusively from his pov!) and the romance begins 🌹🌹🌹!

Readers tag: @shibble, @darkmoviesquotespizza

Masterlist

#tom riddle #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #harry potter #my writing

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darkdemeter · 5 months

Text

OLD DRAFT CONCEPT : " GUARD DOG "

—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader (x slight Natasha Romanoff)

A/N — Here's a little bedtime story for ya'll. Old draft concept for an upcoming and looong oneshot for Wanda in a mafia au setting. Bits and pieces may be recognised in the published column plot wise but overall, we're taking an alternate route, my babbies.

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

READER DISCRETION — Alcohol consumption — mafia business and semi dark themes — profanity — mention of death and murder — mention of black market and auction — reader and Nat have some history — player reader Tony is so proud — Alexander Pierce is of course an arsehole, what else is new? — Rumlow is a bad guy (duh) — I think that's it?

An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true.

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration.

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market.

Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t every single cent he spent on you three years ago.

The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs.

Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one.

Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment.

Your shoulders rise with a particular deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need a refill and pronto.

“People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.”

“He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere oopsie?”

You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.”

Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his fold, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work.

When Steve casts a hardened stare your way and you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

“Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your refurbished liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress?

“Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

“Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, Sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.”

She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow.

Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand.

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included.

She’s facing you, back arched and ass resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, the sweet bouquet of lavender rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

“Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin.

“I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow.

“You really think she wants a guard dog?”

“We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

“I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

“And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you.

“Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue.

“I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.”

Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave, because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

“I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing.

“Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.”

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST — (Even though I doubt this is worth putting the taglist on, here it is anyway)

@alexawynters

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