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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

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Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

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dyeher · 5 months

Text

FIVE WAYS TO END A FIRST DATE| shouto, suna, draken, megumi, eren.

warnings| sexy time, fluff, unedited (obviously).

author's note| for @ikkakvs ❤️

Let's be real. When your nineteen-year-old son says he needs to talk to you during breakfast the last thing you expect him to say around the table with his three year old sister not even a foot away is-

"I want to fuck her on the first date..."

His father absolutely spits his morning coffee across the kitchen counter. You're frozen, a forkful of your breakfast halfway to your lips. He continues to eat like he didn't just say what he said. You make eye contact with your husband who is on the verge of hacking up a lung as your son gently wipes baby food from his little sister's face.

You drop your fork into your plate and attempt to muster your most serious mom face. Not the kind you use when he's fucked up but the one where you are on the fence about whether or not he needs to have sense shaken into him.

He doesn't even have the wherewithal to look chagrined. Instead, he musters a small, smug smile...something identical to his father's (still dying by the way). You narrow your eyes, he shrugs.

"Dad always says when you know you know...and trust me. I know. Besides didn't you-" he glances at his sister who is happily making a mess of her breakfast and then whispers (like it makes a difference, the child is three she has no idea what is going on)"-you know...have sex on the first-"

"Okay!" His father interrupts. And bless his soon-to-be-dead ass because you did not volunteer this information to your son so it must have been your husband. The one you did fuck after the first date.

"What?" Your son shrugs. "Dad tells me everything."

You glare at the dad in question, only to receive an identical shrug.

"Baby," you start carefully. "What if she doesn't want to fuck after the first date?"

He gives you a quizzical look. "That's fine, we have like forever together. We can fuck after date one hundred for all I care."

"Oh, thank God," you share a relieved glance with your husband. At least you haven't completely failed at raising him.

"But- I guess...I mean the vibes are there, you know? We're totally gonna f-"

"Small ears, kid," your husband covers your daughter's ears and eyes him meaningfully.

You let out a breath and start eating your breakfast. If parenting has taught you anything is that every conversation with our teenager can become a lesson.

"There are other ways to end the first date, baby. A kiss on the cheek. Asking for a second date. Making sure she knows you enjoyed spending time with her-"

"Is that how your first dates ended? With cheek kisses and reassurance?"

You don't like the way he's staring knowingly at you. And your husband's snort disguised as a cough doesn't go unnoticed.

"Well-"

You can feel your husband's eyes on you as you open your mouth. You have to sift through your exes quickly but the most memorable end to your first dates were from-

SUNA RINTARO

Car sex.

Suna Rintaro fucked you in the backseat of his car and the memory is fresh in your mind as though it happened yesterday and not almost twenty years ago.

The leather seats were sticky and slippery with your mixed cum. The squeaking as your body slid up the seat with each of his hurried thrusts. The scent of his cologne as he shoved his face into your neck. The way your body bowed against his. The harsh sound of your breaths. His whispered 'fuck' when he slid in for the first time.

His promises. And of course...his unplanned I love you.

And no, this is definitely not something you do not want to suggest to your son.

2. SHOUTO TODOROKI

He bought you flowers.

Of course, it was more of a 'oh my goodness, look shouto a flower shop' 'do you want to get flowers?' kind of situation where he bought you every flower you looked at for too long (because you deserved it, his words not yours) plus a bouquet of fresh roses and sunflowers.

And...and then he fucked you in his king-sized bed on those flower petals. Used the stem of a rose with the thorns still attached for a bit of fun. Laid you on your side facing his mirror so you could see as his cock disappeared into your body. Spoke filthy, disgusting things into your ear.

You shudder at the reminder.

No. That's also not appropriate...

3. KEN RYUGUUJI

You drove his bike.

Actually one of the scariest experiences of your existence. But also one of the most exhilarating. The purr of the bike's engine between your thighs, the grip Ken had on you. The deep rumble of his voice in your ear gently coaching you. Guiding and praising you.

Okay, to be fair the adrenaline is to blame for the sex that occurred after that. It was wild, and God if you both didn't make promises that to this day have you ducking your head in embarrassment whenever you see him.

The reality is, that this particular first date ended in two creampies, a promise to be the best mother to his children, and a marriage proposal.

You glance at your son quickly only to find him already staring at you. Your husband is smirking in the background.

4. MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

First of all.

It was a picnic. How fucking cute is that?

And to be fair, he was adorably nervous and you thought kissing him would ease the tension but one thing led to another and...

He fucked you beneath the stars to the symphony of crickets. Once he got inside you became an entirely different person. The way he propped the soles of your feet on his shoulders and fucked you until you were weeping into the soft blankets, your nails digging into his skin.

Unprepared for the way Megumi became a sex god you'd squirted all over his chest, much to your mortification. And he had the audacity to drag his fingers through the mess and suck it off his fingers.

The man was a whore.

You're almost dismayed when you realize the last first date you had was-

5. EREN YEAGER

A child.

That's right.

Eren Yeager fucked you after the first date and left you with a mini version of himself growing inside you. Granted he married you before you gave birth and you've been living happily ever after since but still.

You glare at your husband as he reaches across the table to take your plate. Your son sits back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

"Wear a condom," you grunt.

Your son cackles as he stands from the table. He bends to scoop his sister out of her high chair. "Don't be silly-" he coos to her, "-wrap your willy."

As he disappears around the corner your husband chuckles.

"How was your trip down memory lane?"

He steps in close to you as you stand and prop yourself against the dining table.

"I hate you, deeply," you groan. Eren laughs as he bends to brush his lips against yours.

"Sure baby, anything you say," he smiles against your mouth. "Anyway, I've been thinking..."

You frown, pulling back to look up at him. "About what?"

"Sharing."

Your breath leaves you in a rush. "Sharing what?"

His eyes darken to a shade of green you've never seen.

"You."

#eren yaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren fluff #suna smut #suna x reader #suna x you #shouto x reader #shouto smut #shouto x you #draken smut #draken x reader #beyablade.#jjk smut #megumi x reader #megumi x you

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queenie-avenue · 4 months

Text

Sent from Below, Fell from Above. [pt.1]

—> an angel meets the demon who killed her all those years ago.

⤻ reader is a female, reader is a bunny-type angel(?), canon-typical cursing, very bad use of 1920s slang, reader takes part in the 'welcome to heaven' song, i even wrote an extra verse, heavily inspired by @jazjelspen 's angel baby fic, death, betrayal, angst, spoilers for all of hazbin hotel season one, alastor went up with vaggie and charlie to heaven in this fic, will be a series

The pearly gates of hell shone brightly as you stood there, waiting to welcome in any winners that may have unfortunately just died. Saint Peter had been out for hours by now and looked like he might just have collapsed from how exhausted he was. Like the angel that you were, you let him go take a break while you manned the podium. After all, you had done so multiple times already in the hundred years you've been in heaven!

Just then, you watched as a portal opened up, seemingly out of nowhere. You put on your best smile and waited to greet them.

"Look at this place, Vaggie, Alastor! It's so clean!" Your smile faltered for a moment. Not because of the familliar name — you had long since gotten rid of your fear regarding that name — but because people who just died wouldn't act that way.

"Yeah, super cool." The girl beside her mumbled as she dragged her feet over towards the stand.

As for the man at the back, all dressed in red, he hummed as he walked towards the glowing gates of heaven.

"Hello there!" You greeted, making sure your halo was glowing as bright as possible. "Welcome to heaven, darlings. Could I get your name, please?" You asked politely, pulling out the book of names Saint Peter had entrusted you with.

You stared at the trio ahead of you. A tall gal dressed in a suit with rosy red cheeks that almost made her look like a doll, another doll by her side that had ashen-grey skin and a giant x over her eye, poor thing she must have lost it when she died. And the man that accompanied the two ladies, standing at the back in a dapper looking suit.

"Charlie... Morningstar." The girl in the red suit said.

You nodded your head. "Charlie Morningstar." You drawled out the name, opening up the book and scanning your eyes through the book as your bunny ears flapped about, wondering where you had heard that name before. You frowned when you could not find Charlie's name anywhere in the roster. "Charlie... Morningstar. I'm really sorry, dearie, but you really aren't on my list. A-are you in the wrong place?" You questioned.

"Um, my dad got me this meeting so maybe you could try Lucifer Morningstar?" She mumbled, but the name was loud enough for you to hear.

"Oh dear lord in heaven!" You gasped.

The three of them looked at you. You noted that the man in the suit and deer antlers gazed at you the most intensely, tilting his head over as he narrowed his eyes at you.

"Darling, I really think all of you shouldn't be here-" you frantically said as you flapped your wings out, flying down towards them. Your skirt flapping in the wind alongside your feathery wings.

"Oh lord, here we go." The girl at her side muttered.

"No, uh, we're here for a meeting."

"[y/n], we can take it from here." A mature voice from above said as you looked up to see Sera and Emily — the Seraphim sisters — descend down to you, along with Saint Peter who was holding a milkshake in his hand.

You nodded your head, understanding your place, before stepping aside. Though, you felt the burning gaze of that man boring holes into your head. You turned towards him, a frown present on your face as you stared at him, confused. Noticing that you had noticed him, he turned away, his sharp-toothed grin faced towards Charlie now. That smile... you had seen that smile before. Even the way he dressed, it screamed that he died during your time period.

You continued staring at him, even as he avoided your gaze.

"Dearly beloved, it is my pleasure to say onto thee," Saint Peter suddenly started singing, and you realised that you had lost track of the conversation. "Welcome to Heaven, oh!" He sang as the pearly gates slammed open. You flew up alongside Saint Peter, your wings flapping as your bunny ears twitched. "Where the virtuous reside, 24/7, oh-oh! People are happy that they died," Well, that was certainly an exaggeration considering you didn't exactly... like the way that you died.

As he sang, you flew through the streets, rallying the rest of the winners to join in song. As you flew back, you landed back onto the floor with Saint Peter just as he finished his verse.

"Welcome to Heaven, where everyone hopes to go! Oh-oh! Where angels always glow! Oh!"

You sang as you ran towards all your winner friends as they danced in the streets for the envoys from Hell. Just as you finished singing, you felt those dark eyes on you once again, and you stopped dancing in the street to stare back at him.

Your head hurt as radio static filled your brain, and you struggled to keep yourself upright. You almost toppled over. You grabbed your head, attempting to get the static out of your brain. "Wha-"

"'Cause every single day in Heaven, is a happy day!" Both Emily and Saint Peter belted out as they flew in the air, causing you to break your gaze from the man and focus on the soaring duo in the air.

"Welcome to Heaven!"

The song ended, and you immediately fell to the ground. You had been dead for so many years, so it had been decades since you felt breathless, of all things.

"My, what is a dame like you doing on the floor!" There that static was again, but this time it was accompanied by an eerily familliar voice. You wanted to call out to Emily, or Sera, but they had already run off. Charlie and the girl by her side with Emily, and Sera to God knows where, leaving you alone with this shady man.

"I-" you began.

Without even extending his hand, this strange deer- whatever he was, pulled your hand up abruptly, holding onto it so tight you felt your blood stop pumping through the veins of your hand.

"What is your name, Sweetheart? I have to say, you and those little angels put on quite a show! All you little Oliver Twists are so adorable." The demon chuckled as he pulled you uncomfortably close.

"Please let me go." You said to the man, attempting to push him off but he only held you tighter.

"Aren't I quite the rude chap, I should have introduced myself before asking for your name." He grinned wider, spinning you around in a painfully familliar way.

"Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you!" He said, grabbing your hand and kissing it.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Alastor grabbed your hand, bowing down as he looked up at you, that sweet grin on his face. "Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you." He said, before sealing your fate with a kiss on your hand. "I hope that we can get along well." You gazed at him with wide eyes, your eyes raking over his bronzed skin and brown — almost red — hair. Glasses lined his gleaming eyes.

Those eyes were the same words that echoed in your mind in your worst nightmares.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

And now here you were, reliving that nightmare.

"What the fuck!" You yelled out, which caused some angels to look over at you. Sure, cursing was normal, but it was typically somewhat taboo on cloud nine and this was one of the only times you had ever cursed. You reeled your hand back, your eyes widened as you stumbled back. "I-it's you." You commented, holding your hand close to the pearl-white blouse that you wore.

"Yes, my darling, it is!" Alastor laughed once again, that sinister shit-eating grin still present on his face. "I'm surprised it took you so long to realise it." He commented, grabbing your hands in his, causing you to freeze up. "I had my suspicions the moment I saw you, but when you sang... oh..." He murmured. His face was filled with ecstasy, his claws going up to his face as he grinned deviously.

"I need to get out of here." You muttered as you turned on your heel and snatched your hands away, preparing to leave.

Alastor just grabbed you back into a tight embrace, his face propped against your shoulder. "I knew it was you, little bunny." The nickname only made you more uncomfortable than ever as you remembered the intimate moment when he first gave you that nickname.

"What's wrong, little bunny?"

The moment he spoke, your wings shot up, pushing him away from you and slapping his body aside. You flew up as he stumbled onto the pristine roads of heaven.

Don't come near me again, you wanted to say, but you couldn't find the courage to spit in the face of your murderer, not even now.

So, this time, you ran away.

You should have done that years ago. Maybe you would have lived longer then.

[pt.2]

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x female reader #alastor fic #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #the radio demon

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as-is-above-so-below · 1 year

Text

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 9

summary: post-mission drinks and another flashback :) call sign: Freyja warning: NSFW, MDNI. Canon typical violence mentioned. Note: WE'RE BACK AGAIN! I'm super proud of this chapter (it may be my longest!) so I hope y'all like it :') Some of you may recognize a scene in the flashback from the original MW franchise, and you would be correct! I used that as a loose outline for a little Ghost/Freyja (pre-call sign) moment A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @halfmoth-halfman for being the best betas and @peachesofteal for always spitballing. Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

Freyja checked on Arthur in his crib one final time, confirming that the little baby was still sound asleep, before closing the door to her bedroom with his monitor in hand. After arriving home following the gala mission, Freyja relieved Gaz of his babysitting duties and finished putting her son to bed while Simon took the first shower. They quickly swapped out so he could check on Joan and she could wash her makeup off.

As she came down, Soap was already sitting on the opposite end of the couch as Gaz, a glass with a hefty pour of amber liquid in hand. His mohawk was damp, indicating he must have showered in their guest bath. Her husband was leaning back in their oversized armchair, dressed in sweats and a black tee. God, if their friends weren’t there…

Freyja positioned herself between his open legs and leaned down, hands resting on either side of Simon’s head, to briefly press their lips together.

He inhaled softly through his nose and brushed his thumb against her bare thigh. “Mmm,” he hummed, then broke off the kiss. “Hi, love.”

“Hi…” She shifted down to join him, bent legs draped across his lap as she cozied up. “How’s Joan?”

Simon reached his open hand around her knees until it came to rest on her outer thigh. “Sound asleep. Gaz did a good job-”

“Make out!” Soap interrupted, smiling into his glass as he downed his drink. “I’ll give ye a hundred pounds.”

Her husband sent the sergeant a pointed look accompanied by a signature eye roll.

“No.”

“Awe, c’mon!” Johnny whined, head thrown back. “Ah’ve never seen ye winch for real!”

“I’m not a whore,” Freyja started, raising a brow at Simon. “But a hundred pounds is a hundred pounds. I’ve fucked you in public for less.”

He chuckled softly at that, starting to rub her freshly moisturized leg, drawing circles with his fingertips. “You fuck me in public for free,” Simon pointed out with a long, lingering kiss on her cheek. The motion sent shivers up her spine that she purposefully chose to ignore.

“CLAM UP!”

“You’re the one who asked me to make out with my husband, you perv!” Freyja cried, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. Simon still had his nose buried by her ear, his deep timber chuckling softly in her ear. Jesus Christ.

“Because I’m sad and horny and miss my boys!”

Roach and Kӧnig were gone on a mission for two weeks. Two weeks without sex had Soap that pent up?

“Soap, I think you have a problem.”

“And why would I indulge you after the performance you put on tonight?” Simon asked, his touch slowly creeping further and further up her leg. Between her and the chair, his opposite hand settled nicely against the snap of her back.

Valid point. The groping and kissing had been a lot.

“I’m sorry! Ah was just tryin’ tae do you both a favor!”

“Nah, she won’t do it.” Gaz crossed his ankle over his knee, wearing a boyish grin and egging her on. Per usual, for Kyle Garrick. “I know for a FACT he tops. No way Ghost is a bottom bitch.”

“Occasionally.” His nose traced the shell of her ear, and his fingers dipped under her pajama shorts. After their meeting in the gala bathroom, if he kept going on the path he was on–

“He whimpers, too.”

“Liar!”

“You two are insuffer–”

Simon Riley was an expert in many areas, including but not limited to shutting his wife up; firm, dominant kisses usually did the trick. And if they wanted a show…

His free hand left her back to gently cup her cheek, in stark contrast to the tongue prying her surprised lips open and lapping into her mouth. Freyja’s eyes fluttered closed, and she let herself melt into his touch, following his lead. She kissed him back with equal fervor, nibbling at his plush lower lip and lacing her fingers through the hair at his nape. It never ceased to amaze her how easily the man under her could turn her into a puddle, soft and pliable in the palm of his hand.

At least thirty seconds of swapping spit had passed by the time Simon’s hand pushed her bottoms up a bit. What they were doing could barely be called a kiss, treading more on the side of a sloppy makeout session. He pawed at her ass, fingers digging into the stretch-mark-ridden flesh before dragging Freyja into his lap, guiding her to straddle him. Just as she sank her weight onto his hard crotch for some release–

“Oooh, steamy.”

Simon pried himself off her, restraining the urge to moan as Freyja moved down his neck and choked, “Sergeants, see yourself out.”

“Cannae drive, mate! We’re hammered, and it’s just gettin’ good-”

“Then go upstairs,” he all but growled, using his hands to roll her hips against his. The quiet moan against his shoulder wasn’t lost on him. “Cause I’m gonna fuck my wife. Plug your ears while you’re at it.”

Kyle, the intelligent man he was, popped off the couch with a salute and marched upstairs. He had seen what he needed to see and wasn’t keen on watching live-action porn.

“Why cannae you go upstairs?”

Freyja sat back to give herself enough room to grab the hem of her husband’s shirt and yank it up his torso. Her chest was heaving with gentle pants, Simon looking up at her with that cocky smirk of his in response to her desperation. What did he expect, for her not to be horned up after getting tossed around in that bathroom?

“M’goin’!”

“Wise choice.”

The couple kept themselves quiet, allowing adequate time for their guests to get to a safe distance. Another well-placed grind of her damp shorts against his hard cock pulled a sharp sound from the lieutenant, and he hurriedly finished ripping his shirt over his head and tossing it across the room. Freyja couldn’t help the proud smile that pulled at her lips, her chest warming up at the power she held over him.

Several years ago

The lieutenant’s arrival in England was unceremonious. Laswell brought her through to John Price’s office and introduced the two. Strong energy radiated off of him, the presence of a skilled leader. He wouldn’t be difficult to work with; hopefully, she could use her time there to learn a thing or two from the captain that she could use on her track up the ranks. The trio went on a tour around the base, where she met Gary Sanderson – callsign “Roach” – who she became fast friends with due to her affinity for British Sign Language.

Then there was Ghost.

John didn’t offer anything other than the man’s callsign. She found it hard to believe someone of his stature could be likened to anything resembling a ghost, but she had seen crazier things during her service. The black ski mask with a skull print was a choice, but not dissimilar to the black gater she sported at the time.

In the days following her arrival, the lieutenant did her best to bond with her new team members, even though the arrangement was temporary. Roach wasn’t a problem, and even their superior made an effort to get to know her and her ambitions, even her personal life.

“No call sign?” Price asked, having already read over the file Kate had sent over.

She shrugged noncommittally. “I haven’t found one that fits me yet. I just go by whatever designation I have for the mission.”

“Bravo-one it is.”

Ghost, on the other hand–

The sergeant proved her first impression wrong. How did the giant of a man manage to disappear whenever she entered a room? However, Ghost didn’t always vanish, and she couldn’t figure out a pattern. It was as though he was intentionally steering clear of her presence, but only in certain situations.

She would be correct.

One of the first things the team did was head to the gym to familiarize themselves with the others’ techniques and skills in combat. With Price, Roach, and Ghost already knowing each others’ affinities, that left the lieutenant to showcase hers. Price wanted to give her a challenge, to see how she would handle someone who clearly overpowered her. Ghost was the obvious choice, at six-foot-four and change and two-hundred-plus pounds.

She won the first round, although barely. She was good, and Ghost hadn’t dared underestimate her before stepping into the ring. She’d somehow wrenched herself out of his grip and onto his shoulders, with her thighs locked around his neck effectively enough for him to tap at her hip. Ghost won the second, taking more time than he would have liked to pin the lieutenant on her back, securing her hands above her head and holding her down with his body weight.

He could take the damned heavy breathing and mischievous eyes staring up at him through her lashes. But when “Good job, Sergeant” slipped past her lips and planted itself firmly in his brain, he leaped off the woman as if she was on fire. His cargos did a good enough job concealing the raging hard-on he sported during the rest of the evaluation, but they didn’t ease Ghost’s suffering as he had to stand there and avoid her occasional glances.

While the newcomer was learning the ropes of the base and making friends, Ghost was preoccupied. He was putting in a considerable effort to not think about her; the mask covering the lower half of her face, her pretty eyes above that black mask, her chest in the tight shirt she arrived in–

Pull yourself together.

He was doing well for a while. Ghost made it six whole hours without popping another boner. Then there was the interrogation.

That night, Roach and Price picked up a cartel member from the cell they were trying to locate. The captain paired Bravo-one, her temporary call sign, and Ghost on the interrogation. Hard to avoid me now, huh? she thought to herself as they approached the room, Ghost pausing just before the door. She wasn’t exactly sure what she had done to make him so avoidant, but she couldn’t be bothered much then. They had a job to do.

With a hand on the knob, the man with the skull plate looked over his shoulder at her. “If you’d like to do the talking–”

“No, thank you.”

Ghost raised a brow under his mask, watching her roll up her sleeves.

“No?”

“I can be persuasive.”

She ignored the expression she couldn’t quite place and waved her hand, directing him to open the door. “After you, Sergeant.”

The pair split off, Ghost immediately going to their captive’s chair, the other hovering by the duffel bag in the corner, packed with various tools and weapons. The one she picked up and inspected for any dents or abnormalities made Ghost’s brain twitch. Well, maybe not his brain–

“And who’s the looker?” the stranger asked, licking his lips. “You’d be prettier if you took the mask off, baby.”

“That’s my lieutenant,” Ghost replied, leaning on one of the metal chair’s arms. “She’s here to make sure you tell me what I want to know.”

“And what exactly would you like to know, Sergeant?”

“Easy question.” He leaned down into the dealer’s bubble, close to his ear. “I just want your boss’s location.”

The man whistled lowly, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue. “Now, that, I can’t do,” he said with a shrug. “Unfortunately for you, this routine won’t work for me. The bad cop smacks me around; the good cop comes in with an offer to save the day – been there, done that. Maybe if you sweeten the deal with that lovely piece of–”

“You’re mistaken,” Bravo-one interrupted his monologue, stepping away from the corner and further into their witness’s line of sight. “He’s not the bad cop.” She bent to his level and brought the torch between them before flicking the flame on. Their prisoner’s stoic face quickly soured, and he thrashed against his restraints, making every attempt to escape the blue flame. “I am.”

Ghost found many things attractive, but he wasn’t aware that watching a woman he had just met torture a grown man and make him beg for life (and eventually, his death) would make him so painfully hard. He tried to blow off steam in the gym a few hours later (after jerking off in the shower, fucking minx), but was yet again met with the sight of his partner. Her hair was still damp from a post-mission shower, leaving a wet spot on the back of her t-shirt. This time, however, she had perched herself outside Price’s quarters. She leaned against the open door frame, chatting quietly, in nothing but a t-shirt and incredibly short shorts. Short enough, that the delicious crease where her ass met her thigh was prominently displayed.

Abort, abort, abort–

It was like the man had blacked out until he was safely in the confines of his quarters, back pressed against the now-locked door. He was a panting, flushed wreck under his mask, which he swiftly pulled off and tossed onto his dresser. Every endeavor to catch his breath or slow his heartbeat went nowhere. He decided cracking his skull against the solid wood door might jumpstart his system again and divert his thoughts away from the lieutenant.

Needless to say, that did nothing to appease the throbbing sensation between his legs.

“Bloody hell…”

Nothing a quick wank couldn’t fix. Again.

Price invited her to a local military bar with the rest of the crew, the usual spot for those who stayed on base on a Thursday night. It didn’t take her long to change and hitch a ride with their captain, donning a simple open-knit sweater with a bralette underneath and dark blue jeans. Once they arrived, she immediately noticed Ghost sitting at the end of the u-shaped countertop, tucked against the wall with his hood over his head. She took her time floating around the bar, shaking hands and conversing happily with various privates and soldiers that weren’t on their assignment. The damp air in the space, combined with her breath, made her mask cling to her face; this was a common occurrence, one the soldier had learned to put up with.

Ghost made no effort to approach her, but she wasn’t blind; his eyes followed her constantly. Whether he was being intentionally conspicuous or not, she didn’t know. After their little sparring match (that left a puddle in her underwear), she thought she had felt something shift. Even though she’d only known the man a few hours then, something about the sergeant piqued her interest. His commanding aura, powerful stance, laid-back yet driven attitude–

Or, his monstrous size and muscles. Those were always a plus.

When Ghost had fled from the training facilities, leaving her on the floor, she raised her arms and let them smack against the mat underneath her.

“He’s a tricky lad to get to know. You’ll get there,” Price had said, insisting that his adverse reaction was nothing personal.

Regardless, he wasn’t making a move, and the constant avoidance wasn’t floating her boat.

So, she allowed Roach to pull her to the cozy dance floor on the other side of the bar. Her eyes wrinkled with the wide smile under her mask as she danced with the silent soldier, chest to chest, periodically spinning under his arm. They laughed and danced like carefree fools; she had been nervous about crossing the pond to a new country, partnering up with strangers for such a vital mission. It wasn’t the same as a deployment or going to various countries with her usual team. The cartel could keep her in England for weeks if not months. Most of the people so far had made her feel welcome.

Most.

Still, she allowed her eyes to fall on the one soul who had made it seem like she didn’t belong – on that mission, on base, in the military in the first place–

And found the portion of his face not covered by his balaclava examining her. Ghost was damn good at concealing his emotions; in the few days she’d been graced with knowing him, she couldn’t figure out his thoughts three-quarters of the time. But at that moment, it almost seemed like fury mixed with a…certain softness?

His gaze shifted to her dance partner and darkened, no longer holding what she thought she had seen just a second before. Ghost held their eye contact while he downed his drink and slammed the heavy glass on the counter. Finally, he stormed to the exit with his hands stuffed into his pockets. She watched him shoulder the emergency door, which apparently had no alarms attached to it, and disappear outside. It was like a silent command to follow. Or maybe a warning, a huge, neon red sign blinking ‘BEWARE! DANGER!’ at her.

However, she had never been known for playing things safe.

“Roach,” she said over the music, slowing her movements. “I need some air. Don’t wait up.”

He simply smiled and bobbed his head before signing, “Sure! I’ll see you back on base tomorrow?”

“Try not to take it too rough tonight,” she signed back with a wink, patting him on the shoulder.

“I make no promises!”

Roach wouldn’t have a hard time finding someone to go home with, that much she was sure about. Even as she weaved through the crowd, she scoped a soldier still in their fatigues heading in her companion’s direction. Lucky bastard, she thought, trying not to let her envy for Gary’s ability to draw men in get the better of her. I’d give anything to scratch that itch right about now. But she was determined. Determined to confront Ghost about his attitude toward her, his superior, and end it. She quickly stepped to the door, hoping to catch the sergeant before he went back to base–

And collided with said sergeant's chest as she went to push the door out.

“Lieutenant.”

The lieutenant recovered smoothly, stepping back to put some space between them. “Sergeant,” she said, nodding to him. “Can I speak to you outside for a moment?”

He stared for a beat before silently stepping back and holding the door open as she stepped out. The cool, refreshing air flowed through the wide knit of her sweater, offering solace from the hot, stiff air, inside the building. The back exit led to a quiet parking lot; all they could hear was the soft buzz of the street light above, Thursday night traffic in the distance, and the muted music from the speakers inside.

They stood side by side in silence for a while, him with his hands tucked into his hoodie pocket again, her arms crossed over her chest. The bar was further away from the city, making the clear, starry sky more visible without the smog and city lights. It would be peaceful if not for her whirring thoughts and the intoxicating musk and whisky wafting from the man next to her. Maybe she’d find someone to go back to the barracks with later.

She wasn’t expecting Ghost to be a regular Chatty Cathy, but the silence was unbearable. “Did I do something to upset you, Sergeant?” she asked, not looking up at him.

“No, ma’am.”

God, she wanted to throttle him. “Then why are you avoiding me?” She took the silence that followed as confirmation of her suspicions, which only fueled her fire more. “We’re supposed to be a team; you and I are partners. The whole won’t function with you icing me out.”

Another pause as Ghost contemplated his response. Her sneaker scuffed against the pavement as she shifted her stance, choosing to spread her weight equally instead of leaning to one side. It made her feel taller, and she needed all the help she could get next to the absolute unit beside her.

“You’re distracting.”

“Distra-” She looked up at him then, baffled, and saw him still facing forward. But she did notice his jaw tightened underneath the mask. Distracting? That’s not–

Oh.

“Rather cozy with the little insect.”

She couldn’t help it, honest. At first, she snorted, but her recovery wasn’t as swift as the chuckle rolled into barrelling laughter. “R-Rather…insecure for such a…big man!” she wheezed, hunching over with her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

Ghost asked, “Something funny?” which only made matters worse and threw her into another fit of giggles and snorts. Very ladylike. After close to a minute, she managed to compose herself enough to suck in a deep breath of oxygen.

“You’re jealous?” she questioned, straightening her back again. “Oh, that’s…that’s hilarious.”

“I’m not.”

Liar.

“You’ve been pining after me this whole time, and you–” The giggling started again, but under enough control that she could still speak. “Ghost, Roach is fucking gay.”

Ghost’s eyes snapped over to her at that, although he couldn’t find the words for a smart response. Several things he had noticed about Roach suddenly made sense. He’d been working with Roach for months by that point. How hadn’t he put two and two together?

“You’d have a better chance of getting him to fuck you than me.”

Before he could stop it, his mouth spoke quicker than his mind could keep up with. “Oh, I’m not a bottom, love.”

Now, that certainly wasn’t a response she prepared for. Was it a good idea to proposition someone of a lower rank as a contractor?

Probably not.

If she was wrong and he wasn’t interested, he could report her and get her demoted if not discharged entirely. But if she’s right, and someone else catches them, that would at least count towards a demerit, a permanent stain on both of their records.

But again, you know what they say about her and risks…

“You sure about that?” she hummed, keeping her gaze forward and arms crossed.

Ghost raised an eyebrow and gave her a once over with his side-eye, eyes following her every curve, from her feet up to her exposed shoulder where her sweater had slipped and the open holes to her bare skin underneath. He forced his sight forward like a good soldier, clenching his fists tightly in his pocket to help restrain himself. “I don’t make a habit of fuckin’ my superiors, ma’am,” he offered, head tipped back towards the open sky.

“Who said you’d be doing the fucking, soldier?”

His skin reacted immediately, burning hot under the black fabric. He chanced another look at her without turning his head and saw her looking back through pretty lashes. If there were a definition for “fuck me eyes” in the dictionary with a picture next to it, the eyes he was currently staring into would be there. He had done so well, circumventing any temptation from a superior officer. The military was all he had; if he was discharged, he would have nowhere else to go. The ghost didn’t even have an apartment off-base, always staying in the barracks, save for times when Price dragged him to his house and forced him to stay there.

He had been so diligent and successfully dodged her at every opportunity, dodged her kind advances of friendship, even sat across the room during the few briefings they’d had together to keep physical distance between him and his problem. But with every passing second of peering down into those eyes, the rest of her face concealed by a mask not unlike his own – he felt his impulses surging forward and self-control slipping away.

The man sighed deeply and dropped his head with his eyes closed. “Bollocks.” Ghost placed a hand on her lower back while the other pulled his belt open, the leather slipping through the metal clasp, buckle clinking as he guided her towards Price’s vehicle.

Ever the gentleman, Ghost popped the door open and stepped to the side, allowing her space to climb in first. She couldn’t be bothered with concealing the giddy, satisfied look as she perched herself on the seat and tugged him between her legs by his waistband.

“Don’t give me that look.”

Mischief twinkled in the irises staring back at him, and suddenly the black mask he’d grown accustomed to disappear, showcasing a smile to match. “What look, Sergeant?” she questioned, her voice pitched lower than usual and her touch slipping into his pants and squeezing. Hard. A gloved hand smacked into the frame of the vehicle, supporting his body through the sudden tremor that jerked his hips forward.

Fuck.

She did manage to learn a few things about Ghost in that SUV. Those facts are as follows:

He was much more religious about keeping his mask on than she was with hers

Whimperer

He somehow was able to be soft while also fucking her stupid?

That tongue of his was good for more than quick whit

When Ghost came inside her, his thighs shaking and convulsing as her warm walls milked him dry, she gave them both a minute to gather their senses before rolling her hips again, earning a pathetic whine.

“Come on, Sergeant,” she panted, pulling his head up from her shoulder by short curls at the nape of his neck. “You can do better than that. Make me come again? Please?”

She had known him for two days and already had him on his knees for her. That theme would be consistent in their relationship going forward.

taglist: @esthervalea, @miss-leto, @sweetestcowboy, @blueoorchid, @apocalypticseagull, @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction, @covenlovenn, @330bpm-whiplash, @gnoccheyy, @jaggernauticals, @dwkfan, @untoldshortsofthefandomsdoms, @bobfloydsgf, @maviee, @thomaslefteyebrow, @kyovy, @prodyng, @scout-fang, @avalkyrieofparis, @misshoneypaper, @berryjuicyy, @voteforpedropascal, @beakami, @addictedtothefictionalworld, @kaghost, @witchy-writing, @67-angelofthelordme-67, @thychuvaluswife, @mysticalpandabear, @cabreezer0117

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heckyeahponyscans · 7 months

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Lauren Faust originally imagined all her G1 childhood faves in a My Little Pony reboot. So why was Applejack the only one who made it in? We don't know for sure, but here is my theory.

IMO Hasbro went into the MLP reboot wanting each main character to be a different color of the rainbow, similar to TMNT or Power Rangers. (Which is a big improvement over Core 7 G3 when THREE out of seven characters were pink.)

So let's look at the initial G1 crew:

Sparkler - blue Twilight - pink Surprise - white Firefly - pink Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

Already we can see some pink is doubled up. But just wait.

Pinkie Pie was THE face of G3 My Little Pony and Rainbow Dash was nearly as popular. Hasbro made big versions of these ponies, they made small versions of them, they made plush baby versions, and they were immortalized on birthday cards, balloons, ornaments, and other merch. I was so disappointed when I heard Pinkie Pie would be in G4 because I was tired of seeing her, ha ha.

But Hasbro was not tired of selling merchandise of their most popular ponies, so I'm sure one of their first notes was "We absolutely need Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash in the new lineup."

Their personality changes wouldn't matter to Hasbro. What mattered was their marketability as toys / designs.

So Firefly, Twilight, and Sparkler were now out of the lineup, due to also being pink and blue.

Now we have:

Rainbow Dash - blue Pinkie Pie - pink Surprise - white ??? Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

But, uh oh! Pinkie Pie and Surprise both have balloon symbols. So Surprise also must die leave.

IMO the names being trademarked / easily defendable was important to Hasbro, and they already had hundreds of G3 names / designs at their disposal. And also they needed a purple pony for this lineup.

So Twilight Twinkle (later renamed Twilight Sparkle) joined the crew and became a unicorn.

Rainbow Dash - blue Pinkie Pie - pink ??? Twilight Twinkle / Sparkle - purple Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

G1 Glory's colors (white with purple hair) then replaced blue Sparkler. But wait!! Both Glory and Twilight Sparkle-Twinkle have stars on their rumps! So Rarity retained Sparkler's symbol of diamonds.

I don't know why they didn't use one of the G1 names, except perhaps that "Rarity the Unicorn" was already a Hasbro trademark, having been a G3 character.

Rainbow Dash - blue Pinkie Pie - pink Rarity - white Twilight Sparkle - purple Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

So why was Posey changed to Fluttershy? In my opinion she was switched up quite late because the original plot of Dragonshy had her as an earth pony, which is why she was struggling to get up the mountain. (That's why they had to add the bit about Fluttershy's wings locking up from fear.)

In addition to wanting a variety of colors, I think Hasbro wanted two of each main pony species. Originally Pinkie Pie was slated to be a pegasus, but then she was switched to an earth pony. So Yellow Pony was shunted into a pegasus slot instead.

Basically, I think Posey got replaced with Fluttershy because it was thought that butterfly symbols were more befitting for a pegasus. Plus girls love animals and if they needed plots revolving around growing plants, they already had Applejack on deck.

So in the end Applejack was the only G1 pony who remained in G4, not because Hasbro had any special hold on her, but because she had a pretty unique name and she wasn't a repeated color.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

#Hasbro #my little pony #MLP FIM #G4 #G1 #obviously I don't have any proof of this #but this is my theory

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gojoidyll · 8 months

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Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 5 | my maid again

Warnings | none

Notes | this fic will be using she/her pronouns for y/n. Also this is a reincarnation fic, so Gojo's name will not be "Satoru" in this part. And please let me know if you want to be in a taglist for this series !! ^-^

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

year 1324 AD

GOJO SEIJI was a brat, probably because at the age of five he received all of his past memories and was very very sour at how his second past life turned out. I mean, how unfortunate must someone be that the love of their life gets reincarnated as a baby and as their grandchild?! That unfortunate soul must be Gojo since it had obviously happened to him.

But thankfully, in this life, he had no siblings and there was no one in his clan with the name Y/n Gojo.

He was relieved, but that didn't stop his brattiness. Most likely because he was only five years old and wasn't allowed to leave the estate. Don't those fools realize he has the six eyes and can take care of himself?!

And now, at the age of 16, the clan elders were still adamant of keeping him indoors.

They won't let him leave no matter what his age is. Jeez! The nerve of some people!

"Master, may I come in?"

He scrunched his nose up at the voice behind his door, but let them in anyway.

"Just don't disturb my reading," he called out, obviously in a bad mood as he usually was.

His maid came bustling in, her head bowed as she gave him a small smile.

"Why are you bothering me today," he asked with an unamused expression and monotone voice. His eyes never tearing away from his book.

His maid brushed off his attitude and answered him.

"The clan elders felt that it was time to get you a maid that was the same age as you. So after searching for one they finally settled on a well mannered and quiet village girl. For the past few weeks I have been personally training her so that you won't be disappointed."

"Whatever, just bring them in already and leave."

His now ex-maid bowed and left his room and a few moments later, he heard the soft footsteps of another come in. The brief scent of vanilla filling his nose.

"H- hello, master Gojo, my name is y/n and I'll be serving as your maid from now on, i- I hope that that is alright with you.."

He turned in his chair, his eyes focused on y/n almost immediately the moment her name left her mouth.

It's her.

He wanted to hug her. Kiss her. Hold her close. He wanted to laugh or cry. He wanted to do many things. But he knew he couldn't not now. Not yet. I mean, he didn't want to scare her away after all.

"Y/n, huh?"

"Yes, master."

He couldn't stop his smile. His eyes shining with a joy that was lost on him ages ago. It truly had been forever since he last saw her.

Not to mention that she wasn't related to him and she would be working closely to him. For him. He couldn't ask for anything else honestly.

"I'm expecting great things from you then, y/n."

To be honest, she could be the worst maid ever to exist and he would still keep her by his side. He loved her after all.

And who knows, maybe this time their happy ending may finally come.

Infinity taglist | @whore-for-hawks @esthelily @huicitawrites @flaming-vulpix @zeniiis @rin1802 @mrowwww

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo

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persephonewritessometimes · 1 year

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two's a company, three's a crowd // hotch x reid x reader

Summary: You've been meaning to ask Hotch about it for some time, what happens when he agrees to fulfill your fantasy?

Author's Note: This is self-indulgent!! I understand if this is not everyone's taste, but I couldn't find a fic like this that I liked, so I wrote my own!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid x AFAB Reader

Word Count: 3570

Warnings: SMUT, THREES*ME, SUB-SPACE, PET NAMES (pretty girl, baby, little girl), softDOM!HOTCH, softDOM!REID, ORGASM DENIAL, "SIR" AND "DOCTOR" USED TO ADDRESS HOTCH AND REID, "DADDY" USED; light system (all green's, no use of yellow or red); squirting; oral (f receiving); worried!hotch, hotch pov; wizard of oz(?) [reader uses "oz" to describe being in sub space]

Key: y/n = your name

This work is meant for readers aged 18 and over. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

We’re enjoying our morning coffee - me with copious amounts of sugar and cream, Hotch just straight black coffee - and I’m toying with the question. I’ve been meaning to ask him for months now, potential embarrassment is the only thing stopping me. I’m picking at my cuticles, starting to sweat, and just decide to blurt it out.

“I want to have a threesome.” Hotch chokes on his coffee, slamming his hand against his chest as he looks at me wide-eyed.

“You couldn’t have waited to ask that until I wasn’t taking a drink?” He croaks, throat certainly scratchy from choking on hot coffee. I give him a sheepish smile and shrug. He looks at me for a few moments, and I can see him collecting his thoughts as he thinks about what to say. Finally, he asks, “How long have you been meaning to ask me this?”

“Um…like six months.”

“Y/N,” he sighs, “I’ve told you you can tell me anything.”

“I know that! It’s just…it’s embarrassing.” I shift my gaze away, trying to shield myself from Hotch’s impending “no”.

“Hey. No. Don’t do that.” I hear him get up and he comes to my side of the table, grabbing my hand. I swallow down the lump in my throat. The embarrassment is worse than I thought it would be. “Y/N, look at me.” I shake my head, but a strong hand soon finds its way to my chin and I’m gently forced to meet his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. I was just…surprised. That’s all. If you want a threesome, we’ll have a threesome.”

“I don’t want you to do it just because I want to do it.”

“I’ve…I’ve thought about it too.” My eyes must have widened because he chuckled. “You’re pretty easy to read. You love being adored, what better than to be adored by two people at once.”

“Damn dating a profiler,” I mutter. “So you’re okay with it?”

“Of course, I’m okay with it. I love seeing you happy, pretty girl. Did you have someone in mind?”

“If it’s not too awkward…Reid?” His brow furrows and I just give him the prettiest smile I can. “Come on, you’re already dating one subordinate, why not throw another in the mix? Besides, he’s already agreed.”

“Y/N! You asked him before you asked me?” He exclaims.

“I just wanted to be prepared in case you said yes!” I shoot back.

“I guess, if we were to add anyone, I’d be the most comfortable with Reid. Seeing as we have no attraction to each other.”

“What? You aren’t going to kiss each other for me?” I say, one hundred percent joking, just trying to get a rise out of him.

“Only I get to kiss you.” He raises his eyebrows as he looks at me and I feel my cheeks grow hot. “We need to set some ground rules if we’re going to do this.” I nod furiously, trying to keep a smile off my face. “You’re going to be the death of me someday, you know that?”

-2 Weeks Later-

We had gotten coffee with Reid a week after our initial conversation to set up ground rules. I told them I wanted to be surprised by the actual occurrence, but not anything that happens in it. Hotch got a little possessive in the actual discussion, and we came to the agreement that if double penetration were to happen, Reid had to wear protection and only Hotch actually got to be in my pussy. I was fine with that. We agreed we were fine with dom and sub roles, something Hotch and I naturally already do. Hotch already has been addressed as ‘Sir’ and we settled on ‘Doctor’ for Reid. Watching Reid shift in his seat at that made my heartbeat speed up. Hotch came around to the idea of Reid and I kissing, but he said he would step in if he started to not like it. I had been on edge for the week following, unsure of when they were going to corner me.

It was Saturday, I had been running some errands and came home to a quiet house. I threw on one of Hotch’s t-shirts, forgoing pants as his shirts seemed to drown me anyway. I’m putting books back on the shelf in the bedroom when I hear Hotch clear his throat behind me.

“Aaron! You scared the shit out of me. I could have fallen off this chair.”

“Uh-uh, pretty girl, try again.” He says, arms folded over his chest. I notice the glint in his eyes, the one that’s straight-up predatory, and I can feel my panties start to get damp.

“Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” I say quickly, clasping my hands together demurely.

“Good girl.” His voice is low and I clench my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction. “I’ve brought a friend with me today. What’s your color?”

“Green, sir.” My stomach drops to my ass, I wasn’t expecting it to happen today, but that makes it all the more exciting. I watch as Reid steps into the doorframe, looking a little nervous, but eyes already lidded with anticipation of what’s to come. “Hello, Doctor,” I say, inclining my head toward him.

“Come on, little one, don’t be shy for Doctor Reid now,” Hotch says, striding into the room. “Why don’t you go give him a kiss?” I nod and pad over to Reid, who has a flush creeping up his cheeks.

“What’s your color, Doctor?” I whisper, smoothing down his shirt, and easing him into my touch.

“Green.” He whispers back, and his eyes drop down to my lips. I smile and nod at him, that it’s okay, and then his lips are on me. After getting used to kissing Hotch for so long, it feels weird to have someone else kissing me. Reid is tentative at first, letting me set the pace, but after I bite his lip a little bit, any semblance of restraint he had is broken. He grabs my face with his hands, kissing me like a man starved of food, and when his tongue slips into my mouth I moan softly. Reid pulls away gasping and then busies himself with kissing his way down my neck. I feel a soft body behind me and lean into it instinctually. Hotch’s hands grip my waist tight enough that I know it’ll leave a mark. I can already feel him, hot and hard pressing into my back, and as I tilt my head back when Reid finds the spot on my neck that makes me keen, Hotch’s lips are on me, swallowing the noises I’m making. Hotch’s tongue is lazy, but demanding as it slips into my mouth, and the intrusion is one I’m used to. I’m so distracted I don’t realize that Hotch’s hands have moved from my hips and were steadily moving towards my cunt until his fingers slid into my panties and I gasped into his mouth. Reid steps away for a second, unbuttoning his shirt, and Hotch abandons kissing me as we both watch his fingers glide through my arousal before he buries two of them in my cunt. I whimper, hand shooting down to his forearm, my nails digging in as he pumps his fingers slowly.

“Doesn’t she make such pretty sounds, Doctor Reid?” Hotch asks, pressing a kiss into my temple before pulling his fingers out and I whine.

“Yes, she does.”

“You should feel how wet she is, she’s so worked up.” I’m panting a little bit and look up just in time to see Hotch slide the two fingers that had been inside of me into his mouth. “Come on, pretty girl, why don’t you show Doctor Reid how excited you are?” I nod, anything to please him, and shuck off what little clothing I was wearing as I make my way to the bed. Once I’m seated, I spread my legs obscenely wide, pussy dripping and on display for both of them. Reid makes a low noise in his throat and to taunt him further, I drag my fingers through my folds, spreading my arousal. Reid is on me before I register it, yanking my hands away from my cunt, my wrists smarting at his strong grip.

“Don’t touch what’s ours, little girl.” I blink at him a few times. “Do you understand, or do I have to spell it out for you, huh?” He has one eyebrow quirked and I nod furiously.

“I understand, Doctor.”

“Good.” He spits out. “Now be a good girl and stay still. Can you do that for me?” I nod again and he sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed, arms wrapping around my thighs and yanking me to the edge of the bed. I let out a noise of surprise that turns into a moan as Reid licks up my cunt before teasing my clit. My hips are jumping upwards on their own accord, my arousal smearing over Reid’s face. I feel the bed dip beside me, and Hotch, now in just his boxers, situates me between his legs, strong thighs coming to rest on either side of me. Reid’s nose bumps against my clit and I sigh, arms coming up to grab Hotch’s biceps, my top half now supported by his chest and abdomen. When Reid slips two fingers inside of me, my nails dig into Hotch’s biceps, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he’s leaving pretty purple marks on my throat - marks that will be hard to cover but I don’t give a fuck right now. One of my hands shoots down to grab at Reid’s messy curls as I feel myself throttling toward the edge.

“Reid, I’m gonna cum.” He stops immediately, pulling his fingers out of me and sitting back on his heels.

“Try again.”

“Huh?” I’m confused, I was so close and he just stopped.

“Try. Again. Not Reid, baby, not right now.” He says as his gaze drops to my cunt and my thigh twitches in response.

“Doctor. Please. I want to cum. I’m so sorry, I’ll be a good girl, I promise. Please just let me cum.”

“What do you think, Hotch, has she earned it?” Reid says, finally tearing his eyes away from my splayed cunt to look at Hotch, who reluctantly removes his lips from my throat.

“She sounds so pretty when she begs, but no, she hasn’t earned it.”

“Please! I’ll be so good! I promise! I just want to cum!” I cry out, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes.

“You will, pretty girl, just be patient. Reid, switch spots with me.” Reid nods, slipping in behind me, a different pair of thighs now resting on either side of me. Seeing Hotch’s brown eyes look up at me as he’s level with my pussy makes me whine, a low, thready sound. The cheeky bastard winks at me, before literally burying his face in my cunt, and I’m met with a low growl of approval when he finds the mess that Reid had made. Reid’s fingers are dancing down my sides, the featherlight touch a stark contrast to the way Hotch is eating me out. Reid’s fingers come up to pinch and tug at my nipples. My back arches up into his touch and when Hotch slides his fingers back into me, the two sensations are overwhelming, crowding my nervous system. It doesn’t take long for both of them to get me dancing on the edge again, a few tugs and thrusts away from reaching my peak, and my breathing starts to labor, my abdomen tensing, but even though I want it, the peak never comes.

“More,” I gasp out, “More, please, I need more.”

“More? My pretty girl wants more?” Hotch asks, pulling away from me.

“Yes, sir, please. Want your cock. Please. Both. Please. Want you.”

“Fine, we’ll give you what you want. But only because you begged so prettily. Doctor Reid help her up.” Hotch shucks off his boxers, cock hard and leaking, begging for attention. He sits on the edge of the bed. “Come on, pretty girl, hop up on my lap.” I oblige immediately, grinding my cunt into his throbbing cock and he hisses, hands gripping my hips, effectively stilling me. The world is going a little fuzzy, the edges blurred, the anticipation of what’s to come setting my heart into an off-kilter pace. I hear the unmistakable rip of a foil wrapper. “Color, pretty girl?” Hotch says, fingers tilting my chin up until I’m looking him in the eyes.

“Green, green, green,” I whisper, and he chuckles, a quick break in the dominant facade.

“Okay, baby girl, you ready? Doctor Reid’s gonna open you up a little bit, okay?” I nod, and turn my head over my shoulder to see Reid opening the bottle of lube I keep in the nightstand drawer. “Uh-uh, eyes on me, pretty girl. Can you do that?” Hotch says, hand gripping my jaw to bring my attention back to him. “There you go. Just like that.” He kisses me, hard, and when I moan I feel his cock twitch against me. Reid’s fingers slip into my tight hole and I hiss, both at the slight stretch and the cold lube. Reid kisses my shoulder in response.

“I know, baby, just have to make sure you’re ready.” He starts to slowly thrust his fingers in and out, scissoring them apart to open me up and soon enough my hips are meeting his movements. Reid pulls his fingers out and I whine at the loss of contact.

“Go time, pretty girl,” Hotch says, kissing the tip of my nose, as he spreads his legs wider so Reid can step between them. He gently lifts me up, hand guiding his cock through my arousal before he guides me down on his cock. He lets it slide home, and I catch my breath for a few seconds. I feel him twitch inside of me and I clench down on him in response.

“I’m ready, Doctor.”

“Eyes on me, pretty girl, wanna see your face when Doctor Reid fills you up.” I whimper at his words. When I feel Reid start to slide into me my eyes flutter shut at the overwhelming sensation of being full. “Eyes open, honey,” Hotch whispers. I obey him, forcing my eyes as Reid slides home and I moan, loud and unashamed. We stay in that moment for a few seconds, both men letting me adjust to the feeling before they start to thrust. It takes a few tries to get a rhythm going, but we figure it out soon enough and my body starts to feel loose and tense at the same time, my hands desperately clinging to Hotch’s shoulders, my one anchor in the sea.

I can feel my orgasm rising, climbing impossibly high, and I can feel myself slipping under, into a space I’ve only gone a few times, when I was really worked up, or after I came really hard. The world is fuzzy and I’m almost there when I realize Hotch is asking me something. I don’t hear it though, all I’m focused on is the sensation happening between my legs.

“Fuck, coming, coming, I’m coming, Daddy, I-” I let out a scream when I hit my peak, missing the way Hotch’s eyes widened at the name I used for him. I feel myself squirt all over Hotch’s lap, the gush immediately pushing him over the edge with a muffled ‘fuck’, and it feels like my orgasm goes on forever. Reid finishes quickly after, spilling into the condom. I rest my forehead on Hotch’s shoulder, riding out the aftershocks, thighs twitching as Reid pulls out. My breathing is labored and I’m a million miles away. I stay like that, feeling Hotch soften inside of me until he gently pushes me away to look at my face.

“No! Don’t, Daddy.” I cry out, burrowing further into his chest, craving the safety he exudes. His hand comes up to rub my back.

-Hotch’s POV-

She’s really far under. I didn’t realize she was slipping until she called me Daddy. I know what to do though, as she’s gone into sub-space a few times since we started dating. The first time was after we had sex for the first time - scared the shit out of me if I’m being honest. When she came around the first time, she was mortified, apologizing profusely even when I assured her it was fine. Since then, we’ve figured it out, and she really only slips under when I’ve edged her for a long time or we hate-fuck.

“Pretty girl?” I ask, and she hums in response. “Are you far away right now?”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice soft.

“Reid, can you grab some dark chocolate and a glass of water from the kitchen please?” He rushes off and I say, “Hey, pretty girl, I have to pull out, okay?”

“No!” She says, starting to cry.

“I know, I know.” My thumbs wipe away her tears. “But I’ve gotta take care of you, okay? Help you feel better? Do you want Daddy to help you feel better?”

“Okay,” She finally whispers. I gently push her up and she sniffles when I slip out of her. She’s shaky on her feet, looking like a deer in the headlights when I stand up, towering over her.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you in the bath, okay?”

“Up?” She asks, looking up at me.

“Of course.” I open my and help her jump up, my arms coming to rest under her her butt as she locks her ankles around my back. I carry her into the bathroom and set her on the edge of the tub as I turn the faucet on and get the water to her favorite temperature. She clings onto one of my wrists as I do so, small hands gripping tightly. When the tub is full, I help her in.

“Daddy, please, get in with me? Please?” I can’t refuse her, she’s always been my weak spot so I slip into the tub behind her, wrapping my arms around her, trying to help her ground herself. She’s quiet and jumps slightly when the door creaks open.

“I got what you asked for. Can I do anything?” Reid asks, handing me the chocolate and glass of water.

“Thank you. And no, we’ll be okay. She just got overwhelmed, she’ll be back in a few hours.” I say, and Reid just nods, dismissing himself from the room to give us space. “Pretty girl?” I ask, and she turns, doe eyes looking into mine. “Can you eat this for me?” I hold the pieces of chocolate out to her and she gingerly takes them from my hand, eating them slowly. “Good girl.” She beams up at me at the praise. “Now, can you drink this?” I hand her the glass of water and she wraps both hands around it, sipping it. It takes her a good ten minutes to finish the whole glass, and I take it from her when she’s done, taking note of her heavily lidded eyes and a sleepy yawn. “Pretty girl, come on, let’s get you into some fluffy pajamas.”

I help her out of the tub, and as I’m drying her off I notice she’s chewing on her lip, brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Was I a good girl, Daddy?” Her lip wobbles a little bit.

“Oh, baby, you were the best girl. You are the best girl. Daddy’s not mad at you. Daddy’s just a little worried, okay?”

“Worried?”

“Yeah, baby, Daddy just wants to make sure you’re okay. Where are you at right now?”

It takes a few seconds for the question to register. “Oz.” She says, quietly.

That’s what she calls being “far away”, she calls it being in Oz. Her eyes are zeroed in on me, fully focused on me, nothing else.

“Do you want to go lay in the poppy fields, pretty girl?” She knows what this means - a nap and cuddling and her eyes light up in recognition.

“Yes! Poppy!” I sweep her up in my arms, bridal style, and carry her into the bedroom, help her into a pair of pajamas, and into bed. Reid had changed the sheets while we were in the bath. I sit, my back against the headboard, and she sprawls over my lap and chest, knees on either side of me as she tucks her head under my chin. I run my fingers down her back and she hums in contentment.

“Daddy loves you very much, pretty girl, he’s so proud of you. His pretty girl.” I say and she nestles further into my chest. She’s fast asleep in the next ten minutes, snoring lightly. I don’t remember dozing off, but I’m awoken a few hours later by Y/N shifting in my lap. She pushes off my chest, blinking a few times. “Hey there, pretty girl, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” She says, eyes clear and I could sigh in relief. “Did I slip under?”

“Yeah, you did. It’s okay. I figured you probably got overwhelmed, am I correct?”

“Yes, but not overwhelmed in a bad way. I didn’t slip because I was scared.”

“I know, baby. I love you.” Her eyes light up.

“I love you too.”

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x y/n #hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x reid x reader

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mitraoki · 1 year

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Hii, can I request headcanons on the JJK men’s sleeping habits + positions, including Suguru Geto pls? Thank youu

their sleeping positions/habits. (jjk hcs!)

note; omg anon hiiiii! thank you for requesting!!🤍🥺 this is certainly new for me to write, so i hope i did a good job with it!

come on in requests are open! <33 you can always refer to who i write for in my rules :3

i also referred to this link! wanted to give you the best experience <3

masterlist.

gojo satoru

+ would like to properly start these hc's with letting everyone know that gojo is a heavy sleeper. shake him as much as you'd like, bang pots and pans, set hundreds of alarm clocks around him and it would seem like he's not even physically there - he's probably living in his dream at this point. built himself a house and is sleeping there.

+ he claims that the strongest jujutsu sorcerer does not require much rest because he's always out and about, completing missions under his care. but we all know how much fatigue that can cost. one thing you should take note of gojo is how much he's in denial when it comes to taking care of himself. he will continue to tell you he's okay but we all know he's not.... so tell me why is he sleeping like a baby now, hm?

+ just shove gojo onto the bed, that's more than enough for him. that is why he doesn't want to admit he needs sleep - he KNOWS for a fact that if he finds a place to rest, he wouldn't be able to get up anymore, unless he's all recharged for a new day. a bonus for him is that now that you two were sharing a bed, he gets to have you in his arms, too. this means that he needs you in the bed with him at the exact moment as he is; if not he'd already be fast asleep and he'd miss a chance to hold you😭😭😭

+ he adores having you in his arms. this also means that he enjoys being big spoon so much (you're also his bolster). he does know that holding you tight wouldn't give you the best sleeping experience, so he ensures that his grip is loose enough for you to breathe <3 it's genuinely a miracle with how stable this man is when it comes to sleeping, because he can stay in the same. position. the whole. night.

+ the only time the position actually changes is when he's having nightmares and startles both of you awake. i've mentioned this a number of times before but gojo does not mind being vulnerable in front of you. you might see him sweating, hyperventilating, shedding a tear or two; but he's not going to be running away from you. he needs you to understand the person you're with. when he eventually calms down and gets a glimpse of you, he kisses you, whispering a thank you before laying back down, drifting off to sleep once again.

+ gojo has a good night routine. it's simple, doesn't require a lot of work. he does offer you some advice, and is also not afraid to seek some help from you if he does feel like he's missing out. i feel like the products he uses are super high end ones (no but think about how much he invests in them... his glossy lips say it all), and absolutely does not mind getting you the best ones too :>

geto suguru

+ okay so geto's 100% a light sleeper. i feel like he's the kind where he would lowkey worry about something potentially happening to him or you, or maybe some kind of issue will pop up. so he definitely adapted to waking up the moment he hears noise. of course, when it's nothing to be worried of, he gets all grumpy and has this face >:( on until he falls asleep again.

+ i hc his sleep schedule to be quite admirable :0 geto makes sure he gets the right amount of sleep. not the kind where he has set a specific time to head to bed, but rather how long he must sleep in order to actually be able to function the next day. not one hour must he leave behind because if he does, it's over. geto is now having one of his worst days yet :( but don't blame him, he's so accustomed to it and he doesn't think he can ever overcome it either🥹 poor geto is worried he might unconsciously hurt your feelings due to his bad mood; so when he's quiet, try comforting him, make him his favorite drink, maybe hum a tune or two - he would love a relaxing day <3

+ geto talks to you a lot about his dreams. he doesn't really have a dream journal to write them on (he prefers not to), but he can surprisingly remember whatever he'd dreamt of, and tell them to you. sometimes he researches what his dreams mean too, to see if they have good or bad omen. he looks like a puppy when he's conveying his thoughts about them. if he had a tail you would probably notice it waggling a LOT.

+ now geto loves holding you. whenever he has the opportunity, he holds you. he keeps you in his embrace, never lets go. something about the two of you fitting together like puzzle pieces makes him so happy. no doubt that he's gonna have a cuddle session before you two doze off hehe :> he tells you about his day, you tell him about yours, and the conversation goes on an on until you two end up falling asleep, completely intertwined with one another. he finds it extremely cozy being able to do this with you every night. it's some form of security for him, and a promise to keep you close no matter what.

+ he does move a lot though, so you two might end up in completely different positions when you wake up OOPS😭i can see the confused look on both your faces when you see geto upside down and you holding his legs AUGHHH SO CUTEEE

nanami kento

+ oh wow.... our beloved nanami..... my fingers are itching to type this NOW

+ unlike geto, i think this man just forgets about his dreams. whenever you describe yours he's just gonna sit back in his chair, contemplating for so long about what he just dreamt. surely he has to remember something.... was it bad that he didn't...? all he can remember is seeing little dots of green or yellow light illuminating before he goes into a deep sleep.... he's trying okay😭

+ nanami has the BEST sleep schedule out of all the men i've written here. i feel like he hasn't gone through any struggle, neither has it physically bothered him if he had to stay up a little later than usual but everybody deserves good sleep, and he values it a lot. though sometimes you can hear him grumble a little if anything requires him to stay up the entire night. he wants you to have a good sleeping habits too, so it's just him constantly reminding you to take good care of yourself before 'i have to take matters into my own hands' (i personally do NOT mind that. it's nanami we're talking about-)

+ with that said, nanami cannot go to sleep unless you fall asleep first. he's always so worried if you cannot get some shut eye just for the night - his heart aches if he ever learns from you about your struggles with sleep. he's worried you might have nightmares and would continue thinking about it till the sun rises. it's unfair that his dearly beloved would have to go through something without his knowledge.

+ 'please, 'nami. sleep. i'll be fine', and he immediately replies with a 'no. i'm okay. i enjoy this.' and he really does. he enjoys the faint sounds he gets to hear out the window, the moonlight being your shared room's only light source. the feeling of you nuzzling into his chest further as his arm over your shoulder and behind your back positions itself. you using him as your bolster this time, with your knee in between his legs. him slowly caressing your hand with his fingers, which works like a charm, as he could feel your breaths gradually relaxing on his chest. your eyelids finally win, letting you drift off to dream world. once he's sure that you are fast asleep, he plants a kiss on your forehead. his chest finally matching the rise and fall of yours, dozing off as well.

+ i mean COME ONNNN of course he's holding you in a sweetheart cradle style!!!!!! nanami sleeps like a log as well, so that means he will not move around as much till he wakes up. he finds it super worth it to have you in his arms. i GUARANTEE YOU if he does have afternoon naps (which i think he has if he had to work overtime), he's going to hold you the same way he always has. if you ever have to get up and start your day, groggy (but too stunning to handle) nanami would pull you back, claiming that he's only going to need you for five more (which turned to ten, then fifteen) minutes.

+ 'i hope you slept well, my love,' he half-whispers with his morning voice so smooth, you just wished there was a way to kiss it. but all you could do was just melt in his touch, praying that this moment could last for as long as you could.

all created content belongs to mitraoki. reposts/remakes are not allowed.

#snow.writing #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #nanami kento #geto suguru #geto x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x you #jjk headcanons #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fanfic

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euphorajeon · 1 year

Text

color you in | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, slight smut | college au, boxer!jk

— word count: 3.1k

— warnings: long-haired, glasses-wearing jk, annoying and bratty oc, (shes just horny im sorry guys), neck kisses, tattoo tour by jk, a bit of past childhood story, all while jk does his coding assignment (again).

— summary: jeongguk just wants to do his coding assignment in peace. you won't let him.

— author's note: i wanted to write about jk's tattoo meaning since he shared such a personal thing with us.. but of course with boxer!gguk's oc.. that would be hard without some spice hahaha T_T tweaked some a bit to fit the non-idol nature of this jk. hope it doesnt take away the real meaning behind his tattoos :) enjoy!

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

It’s ten minutes to six in the evening when you barge into Jeongguk’s bedroom to find him on his desk yet again, typing away at his laptop with glasses perched on his nose. The very same prescription glasses that made heat lick at your insides the last time you were here, a tool for his never-ending tricks of getting you to do what he wants. You’ve meditated after the events of that night to force your brain into thinking that Jeongguk in glasses does not look that hot for you to be drooling every single time, confident that you’ll get over them soon the way you got over his sleeve tattoos. One look at him now proves your efforts pointless, though, as he looks—for lack of a better word—even hotter in his glasses, black t-shirt (it’s not oversized this time!), and even longer hair than the last time you saw him.

How is it possible that you just saw him barely two weeks ago and his hair already reached his chin? (Which, combined with his glasses, makes him look so good you just want to jump him right here, right now—you already said that but whatever. Your boyfriend is hot. Period.)

Instead of saying hi like a normal girlfriend would, you climb into his lap sideways to tear his attention away from the codes on his laptop screen. Jeongguk blinks as he accepts the way your weight settles on his thighs, left arm wrapping around your body to prevent you from tilting backwards. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook of it, denying him of the eye-contact he tries to make.

“Hi…?” Jeongguk tries, the breath from his chuckle tickling the baby hairs on your forehead. “What are you doing here, babe?”

“Your mom let me in,” you mumble, not exactly answering his question.

“Yeah, she must have, I can see,” he muses, hands slowly going back to his keyboard to continue his assignment. “I suppose she didn’t tell you I’m doing my codes which is due tonight?”

“She did,” you hum. “She also told me to remind you to take a break and that dinner’s at seven. Told me I’m welcome to stay as well.”

“Sure you are, she loves having you around.”

“So you don’t?”

“I do,” Jeongguk chuckles. “But maybe not exactly right now. You’re warm, it’s distracting me from my codes.”

“That’s the point,” you say in a duh tone, turning your head to glance at his face. The light from his laptop screen reflects on the lens of his glasses, dancing across his brown irises in time with the speed of his fingers on the keyboard. You watch the codes go on and on for about five seconds before giving up, the array of symbols and numbers making your head spin. It’s amazing how his eyes stay unwavering behind the glasses, not at all bothered by the sheer amount of seemingly-random text on the screen.

“Why are you in glasses again? I thought you knew it does things to me.”

The way Jeongguk’s fingers halt their movement at once is almost comical.

“I’m … doing my assignment??”

You know your question sounds ridiculous and rethorical and your boyfriend’s reaction is a hundred per cent justified, but you don’t care. It’s his own fault for looking that hot in a simple getup of black t-shirt and prescription glasses, his own fault for letting his hair get so long it’s almost to his shoulder. It’s really his own fault that you’re repeating this monologue in your head, not being able to think straight anymore when your mind is echoing Jeongguk, Jeongguk, Jeongguk non-stop.

The jumbled thoughts in your mind manifests itself into you puckering up your lips to softly land them on Jeongguk’s skin, your first target being the mole on his neck. It’s one of your favorite features of his to kiss, to nip, to caress with your tongue until he’s a shuddering mess beneath your touch. You slowly trail your lips upwards to his jaw, to his cheek, to his sensitive ear where you give a small, almost playful bite with a faint scrape of your teeth. Jeongguk barely reacts, though, not even a hitch in his intakes of breath.

Instead of feeling upset, you feel more amazed at his self-restraint right now, being able to ignore his girlfriend literally sitting on his lap and peppering slow, sensual kisses on his skin. You decide to step up your game, brushing your fingertips against his skin to tuck his hair behind his ear so you can whisper into it and have your words be heard clearly.

“Wouldn’t you rather do me right now, Jeon?”

The way you let your lips faintly graze the shell of his ear is totally intentional, so is the huge sigh you let wash over the surface of his skin. Your lips go back on their journey down the side of Jeongguk’s throat, this time introducing your tongue to the equation that elicits a tiny shiver he tries to supress. His ever-so-solid resolve is starting to break and you’re happily opening your arms for when it crumbles down to the ground.

You’ve arrived back at the mole on his neck, wrapping your mouth around it before sinking down your teeth firmly on the flesh that (finally!) makes Jeongguk’s breath hitch. You continue your ministrations by licking over the bite marks, making sure to drag your tongue slowly over his reddened skin. When you start sucking on the spot to paint pretty bruises on his throat, a grip on your chin forces you to angle your head away only to receive a pair of lips over your own.

A contented sigh erupts from your chest, a sound you’re sure goes straight to Jeongguk’s nether region because he adjusts his position slightly, his left hand gripping your waist until your t-shirt is bunched up in his fist. In turn, you tighten your hold around his neck, preparing yourself for the onslaught of kisses you’re sure to receive from his warm mouth. Kisses that will lead to exciting events that involve you moaning out his name in pleasure.

Moan his name you do—in frustration in lieu of pleasure—when he pulls away from the kiss just as you were about to deepen it.

“Sorry, babe,” he says apologetically, a bit breathless from the onslaught of kisses you gave him. “But later, alright? I really need to get this done by tonight.”

Your response of quiet echoes in the room, your eyes glassy from both being clouded by lust and wanting to cry because that lust is not acted upon by your very hot boyfriend. The grip he has on your chin softens before he moves to craddle your cheek in his palm, stroking your cheekbone gently with his thumb.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I promise I will tend to your needs once I finish this assignment, okay?” When you’re still wordless, his hold on your cheek becomes firm, and you try to focus on his eyes while he talks. “Need you to promise not to distract me again, though. No orgasms if you do.”

“Nooo,” you whine, kicking your feet like a petulant child being denied a candy bar. You notice Jeongguk moving his leg yet again to adjust himself, a miniscule movement you’re sure he thinks will slip from your aroused mind. Little does he know your senses are heightened when you’re as strung up as you are right now, so you blurt out a fact that you both already know: “You’re semi-hard already!”

Jeongguk scoffs. “Yeah, your kisses are killer, baby.”

You continue to jut your bottom lip out, hoping it will be enough to change his mind. Jeongguk sighs, lips pulled into a straight line which makes the mole under his lip peek out, tempting you to lean forward to land a smooch on it. Before you have a chance to act out your thoughts, you’re halted by a firm grip on your shoulder courtesy of Jeongguk’s right hand. The hand that extends to a muscular, bulky, tattooed arm.

His tattoos. How could you forget about their existence only because of the twin lenses perched on his nose? How could you forget that before those goddamn glasses, it was those ink on his arm that made you weak in the knees? How could you?

Whatever words Jeongguk is saying right now sound like white noise to you, your eyes focused on the taut muscle of his bicep and the colored masks peeking from under his short sleeve. They seem to be dancing in your eyes, the blacks mingling with the colors contrasting the milky white of his skin tone, painting a beautiful picture with a story only he can tell.

When you speak next, you sound like you’re in a trance.

“Your tattoos … God, why are you so hot?”

Your boyfriend halts himself mid-sentence, round eyes blinking owlishly at your dazed expression before he follows your line of sight, chuckling when he realizes how focused you are on the tattoos on his arm. “Still loving the inks?”

You let out an affirmative hum, fingers slowly tracing the red tiger lily flower on his forearm. “You know … you never told me what your tattoos mean.”

“Really?” He lets go of your shoulder to fix his glasses before going back to his keyboard, fingers hovering over the keys and ready to type again. “I just assumed you already know some of them.”

“Well, just ones you got super early,” you say, grabbing his right arm to turn it around, searching for the tattoo you’re talking about. “Like this flower, and the Chinese saying on your elbow. And here … didn’t you use to have three stripes over here?”

“I did,” Jeongguk confirms, softly pulling his arm from your grasp to take your hand in his to offer a bargain and plead if he has to. “I’ll explain one by one, but you have to promise to let me do my assignment. It really is due tonight at eleven fifty nine, and I’m only about three-quarters done. Please, babe?”

You pout. “It’s not like I’m not letting you work on purpose …” The look Jeongguk gives you is enough to make you relent. “Okay, fine, I’ll just sit here and trace your tattoos while you explain and work on your codes.”

“Good girl.”

You refuse to admit those two words have such an effect on you that you have to hold down a shiver like Jeongguk did earlier. Instead, you move your fingers to trace your boyfriend’s skin once again, finally settling on the cover-up of the three stripes tattoo he used to have near his wrist.

“Okay, this one. Why a snake?”

Jeongguk stops typing for a second to glance at the tattoo even though he only has one involving a snake. “Oh, we start heavy,” he chuckles. “Uh … how do I say this? You know that snakes shed skin, right? They do that to give way for a new one, for me that symbolizes growth. So this snake is to say that I want to keep growing … to be a better person every day.”

“That’s very … deep of you,” you say, entranced. “What about this treble clef? Always wondered about this one, honestly, does it have to do with the fact that you used to sing in junior high?”

Your fingers brush against the musical note next to the snake, one that you remember being there since the start and didn’t undergo a cover-up.

The smile Jeongguk slips out is wistful, the way his thumb joins yours in caressing the tattoo tells you that this ink is one of the important ones for him.

“Do you see it connected to a chain?” His finger trails said chain, until it reaches a mic and further back to a clock he has near his elbow. “And it connects to a mic, then a clock with the time of my birth. It was three twenty-three, or three twenty-six? Yeah, around that time …” He continues stroking the numbers on the clock. “And you’re right. I’ve always wanted to be a singer ever since I was little, a fact I’m sure you know from all those years listening to me sing growing up.”

You do remember the times when he would sing all day, on the way to school, in between classes, on school functions, on the way home. There was never silence in your friendship, either filled by his wonderful voice or by the sound of you two bickering. You thought it was just a phase, because as soon as you stepped into high school, he closed the mic and started his rainbow-colored-tshirt phase. It never occured to you that it was a buried dream he kept alive by blowing on the dying embers.

“Why didn’t you pursue it?” Your whisper rings loud in the quiet room.

“Singing?” He shakes his head. “Too many obstacles, not enough resources. Wasn’t worth my whole life to pursue something too unclear.” His fingers brush the clock tattoo all the way to the treble clef. “This is just a tribute to my childhood, a reminder that once upon a time, there was Little Jeongguk who dreamed to sing. A reminder to keep that dream alive, even by mere inks on my arm. Who knows, maybe one day you could see me on TV, singing those crappy pop song with my melodious voice, charming everyone in town.”

Jeongguk grins, and that’s enough to tell you that he has made his peace with the situation. He taps the tattoo twice, motioning for you to continue tracing over them for new meanings and new stories.

Your finger points to the tiger lily next to the treble clef, one of your favorite tattoos of his. It’s drawn in a way that it covers three words behind it: Please love me, in bold capital letters. You wonder if the two has any connection or if it was just placed like that for creative purposes.

“It’s my birth flower,” Jeongguk starts. “Tiger lily as a birth flower symbolizes confidence, pride. I want to always be confident even in places I wouldn’t normally be, so this tattoo is just to remind me of that.” His thumb rubs over the red-orange flower fondly. “Plus, it’s pretty, don’t you think?”

“It is,” you agree, liking the ink even more after knowing the meaning behind the beautiful shape and color. You realize he missed the explanation for the three words behind the tiger lily, so you inquire with a swipe of your thumb over the black letters. “Does this have to do with the flower in any way?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve read some people said that tiger lily also means ‘I dare you to love me’ or ‘Please love me’, so I put the two together like that,” he explains, a playful lilt suddenly present in the tone of his next words. “Kind of a nudge at you too, though, when we were going away for college and you still saw me as the scrawny kid who you’ve gone through childhood with.”

You groan. “Will you stop?? I didn’t know!”

“Well, to be fair, neither did I until too late into the college years where I couldn’t see you whenever I wanted like I had used to, so. There’s that.”

“So you just realized that you liked me after being away from me for, what, two years?”

“Yep.”

“Very late realization, indeed,” you muse. “So, tattoo tour, over?”

“You haven’t even gotten to my upper arm yet.” Jeongguk rubs over his bulging bicep all the way to his shoulder, sliding the short sleeve of his t-shirt upwards for you to get a clear view of his shoulder tattoo. “Oh, and my shoulder too.”

“Well, I’d love to, but you’ve gotten preoccupied with explaining your tattoos to me that you haven’t touched your codes for the past fifteen minutes.” You grimace while looking at the blinking cursor on his screen. “But okay, I’ll bite. What is that on your shoulder? I can’t ever seem to figure it out.”

“Supposed to be a moon,” he says nonchalantly, sliding the sleeve back down to block your view of the fading tattoo. It looks rather gray against his skin compared to the other black or colorful ones, the odd one out among the others. “But it’s kinda ruined now and I need to get it recolored or covered up, which I’m too lazy to do so it just sits there like that for now.”

“Recolored?” An idea pops into your head. “How about I recolor it for you?”

Without waiting for his answer, you proceed to lean over his torso to slide his sleeve back up before promptly sinking your teeth down on the flesh, eliciting a surprised yelp out of him. Soothing the skin with your tongue, you make sure to trace the drawing with that wet muscle of yours slowly, sensually, so he’s reminded of the reason you’re here in the first place.

When you start sucking on the reddened flesh, he lets out a shuddering breath while holding your waist in a vice grip. He doesn’t pull you away, though, so you see it as a green light to continue. Might as well take your chance while you still can.

After several more bites, licks, and sucks, you deem his skin colorful enough to pull away. You brush your thumb over the pretty artwork you’ve just done on your boyfriend, feeling proud of your “recoloring” work. “There, all recolored.”

Jeongguk lets out a huge sigh, resigned to his fate. “You’re really horny, aren’t you?”

“Very.”

“Still wet from earlier?” He lifts one eyebrow, challenging.

“Always wet for you, baby.”

“Fuck.” Jeongguk takes a glance at the clock before pulling his glasses off his nose. ��We got ten minutes.” He leans forward to connect his lips to yours, this time not hesitating to use his tongue and teeth. His right hand slips underneath the band of your sweatpants, past your underwear to swipe at your clit before teasing a dip at your entrance, making you moan.

“Huh, was about to ask if ten minutes is enough,” he says before biting your bottom lip. “If you’re this wet we’re gonna finish in five.”

“Fuck, I don’t care how long, just stop teasing and make me cum already.”

“So demanding. Watch that mouth when I give you two back to back.”

“Was hoping you’d give me more—oh.”

It’s gonna be a really packed ten minutes.

a/n: jk's tattoo tour felt like a fever dream—but maybe that's just because i dreamed of him doing the exact same thing around 3 years ago.. anyway. really thankful that he decided to share such a personal part of his life to us :') any feedbacks (and maybe ideas for the next shenanigans this couple could pull off) are welcome in my askbox or here! thank you for reading :D

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wen-kexing-apologist · 5 months

Text

Kiss-eki: Dear to Me

*Kicks open door*

SURPRISE BITCHES! I am several days late and hundreds of dollars short, but I did finally *finally* decide to watch Kiseki: Dear to Me in an attempt to add one more show to the Completed Watchlist for 2023. This was a show I was planning on watching a bit earlier, probably closer to the time it was actually airing, because I'd heard it was ridiculous and thought it would be a good show to have on in the background during work. But @ginnymoonbeam had my best interests at heart and told me that I Absolutely Could Not Do That because There Was Body Language Dammit!

If I have not made it clear, THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME, GINNY!

Kiseki was absolutely wild and completely insane if you try to describe a single aspect of the plot whatsoever, but I would have given it a ten off sheer entertainment value if it wasn't for those back to back fake outs with Chen Yi being shot and Fan Ze Riyu being stabbed. But, I digress. I have only seen three things from Taiwan at this point, but those three shows have provided quite a lot of evidence to the claim that Taiwan is nearly unparalleled in their ability to portray domesticity and physical chemistry. I have also heard that Taiwan has a tendency to create content on more taboo subjects, and Kiseki was my first forray in to that side of Taiwan considering Ai Di and Chen Yi are brothers and Bai Zong Yi is a minor when he starts his relationship with Fan Ze Riu. I think both of these subjects were very smartly handled in their set up and their structure. I normally hate the like, adoptive siblings falling in love thing, cause like...that's your sibling, but they don't give us a lot if any flashback to these boys growing up together, and they don't share last names, or really call their adoptive father Dad, so there are quite a number of abstractions in that dynamic that means this is the first time I didn't have a squick about it. And having Fan Ze Riu trying so desperately not to succumb to his feelings for Bai Zong Yi and to put that distance between them, to have Bai Zong Yi be living alone and also be 17 so he's pretty close to legal age, and then to have Bai Zong Yi be the pursuer in their relationship both serve extremely well in making that relationship feel responsibly handled.

I have not been in the tags, so forgive me if this has already been done, but I have not stopped thinking about the first kiss between Ai Di and Chen Yi or the first kiss between Bai Zong Yi and Fan Ze Riu since I saw them and I simply *must* do a scene/body language breakdown about both of them. God, it's good to be back!

[side note: I was going to split this up with funny titles like Cat Boy and Mr. Sulky, but I realized that actually could apply to both couples...]

Ai Di and Chen Yi

Okay FIRST OF ALL, I just want to say that I love Ai Di, I love how ruthless and blood thirsty he is and how incredibly dangerous and scary he could be...if he wasn't so easy to pick up and carry around like a football, or like...a feral, hissing kitten. I am going to focus mostly on the first kiss that Chen Yi initiates with Ai Di because holy shit was there so much complex emotion and reaction packed in to that pretty small moment, but before I do that I am contractually obligated to acknowledge how fucking brilliant it is to show how much/how well Ai Di and Chen Yi know each other, by having Ai Di torture Chen Yi for information by threatening to feed Chen Yi incredibly spicy baby corn AND TO HAVE THAT TACTIC WORK. And to show how much Chen Yi tolerates by having him easily get out of the restraints and tie Ai Di up when he gets bored. Fucking incredible character choice to show how absolutely batshit Ai Di is, fucking incredible relationship choice to show how well Ai Di knows Chen Yi, and fucking incredible choice to use for a call back later. Also, fuck this show for that birthday cake scene! Brutal.

Okay. That said:

You know Ai Di has not for one second stopped loving Chen Yi, and now he is being met with some actual interest from Chen Yi. Chen Yi is full reciprocating what Ai Di has wanted for so long and if this were a typical BL with more simplestic characterization, we would have gotten the moment where Ai Di just melts in to it, fully lets himself have it. Accepts that Chen Yi has woken up, gotten with the program, and is ready to be in a relationship with him. And to be honest, that is what I was expecting. Ai Di has been such a loud and obvious simp for Chen Yi that I thought for a moment he would be the kind of person to let himself have it. To not question it too hard, especially because he is young and impulsive. So imagine my surprise when I got this reaction from him instead:

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Ai Di likes to challenge, likes to push buttons, likes to press. And he starts this scene doing just that. He is on his way to tucking Chen Yi in to bed (folding the edge of the bed spread over him because Chen Yi is drunk off his ass and too heavy for Ai Di to manhandle under the covers. But the second that Chen Yi starts simping over his Boss again, Ai Di stops performing any level of care for Chen Yi, and you can see this little change in his face where he gets annoyed and actually undoes his little moment of care and pulls the bedspread back off of Chen Yi and then he postures and he’s trying to act tough, and he’s needling intentionally, and all of these things where he is trying to be antagonistic to Chen Yi because that is the only way that Ai Di really knows how to express his emotions and he’s butt hurt about Chen Yi once against obsessing over someone Ai Di knows he can’t have when he is right there.

Now, Ai Di gets manhandled a lot by Chen Yi and while he isn’t able to break out of it, he does very often struggle/fight back to get out of Chen Yi’s grip when he’s been baby carried away from a scene like a sack of potatoes. Which is why I do think Ai Di is giving in to his own feelings a bit here because he…doesn’t do that. He lets Chen Yi pull him closer, he lets Chen Yi push him up against the wall. And he’s still needling but it’s all bark, no bite. When he starts calling Chen Yi impotent his face softens looking up at him.

And then Chen Yi goes in for the kiss and Ai Di’s eyes go wide, you can see an entire internal monologue running through his head. I am fairly confident there are some what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck’s going through his head when Chen Yi first kisses him.

gif by @khaotungsfirst

There is a moment, just a moment so quick where Ai Di kisses back, where his heart gets the better of his judgment and he lets himself *have it* for *just* a second, and then his brain snaps back almost immediately and he bites Chen Yi and pushes him away.

And honestly, I do not understand how actors work, because Ai Di’s face twitches. How the fuck does Louis do that?! He’s out of breath, and his mouth is agape, and he looks horrified, and heartbroken, and confused, but maybe a little hopeful. Like he won’t let himself believe that Chen Yi would actually do this. Like he is thinking Chen Yi is doing this out of pity, or just to shut him up, or mess with him. Because Ai Di messes with Chen Yi all the time. This is what Ai Di wants. He wants Chen Yi, but now that he is face to face with the possibility he does not have the ability to believe in it.

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

And in a very rare occurrence he listens to Chen Yi when Chen Yi tells him to get out of his room. The gears are definitely turning, but he simply cannot believe it, and it is so fascinating to me thinking about all these little microexpressive moments we get from Ai Di later on in the show that he really does not believe that Chen Yi kissing him in Episode 6 was Chen Yi actually admitting feelings, because every time that Ai Di tries something like torturing Chen Yi with spicy baby corn, or flirting to try to get Chen Yi to be uncomfortable or to back off, he reacts with genuine confusion when Chen Yi flirts back.

Case in point:

gif by @25shadesoffebruary

gif by @shijiujun

Bai Zong Yi and Fan Ze Riu First Kiss

It’s really interesting for me to compare this kiss to the Ai Di and Chen Yi kiss because they feel like completely mirrored (read: reversed) reactions. Where Ai Di leans in to his kiss for a moment for a moment and then forces himself to push away, preventing further intimacy, Fan Ze Rui forces himself to push away for a moment and then leans in to it, allowing the intimacy to proceed.

gif by @alejunsu

The set up is incredible, and in my opinion, foreshadows the fake amnesia plot in that Ze Rui is absolutely laser focused on his task (treating Zong Yi’s wounds) and intentionally ignoring everything else because he knows that it is irresponsible for him to initiate a relationship with a seventeen year old. Zong Yi is the first to lean in and go for a kiss, and he lingers at a distance that is respectful but with obvious intent for as long as it takes Ze Rui to look up and notice. There is a split second where Ze Rui’s eyes flit down to Zong Yi’s lips, and then he puts himself right back on task. Zong Yi is not to be dissuaded and goes in for the kiss again. Ze Rui notices, and grabs at Zong Yi’s shoulder to stop him, furrowing his brow in what I would consider confusion and focus, but once again his eyes betray him and he looks back at Zong Yi’s lips. This time without looking away, so Zong Yi continues, leaning in slowly and Ze Rui is drawn in at this point, he is frozen there, he isn’t trying to disengage from the inevitable anymore, unable to rebel against his own desire.

gif by @alejunsu

Their lips meet, and to me it looks like Ze Rui is shocked, like his brain has short circuited and he doesn’t know where to go from here. It’s like his body is just reacting and reacting before his brain can catch up with the responsibility. He kisses back before his brain has really processed what is happening, and then he knows he shouldn’t be doing this so he tries to push away in the most half-hearteded attempt to be responsible, and a second later he’s abandoned the effort and started engaging more enthusiastically in the kiss.

I do not fucking know how Hsu Kai does it because I swear to god Fan Riyu was cycling through about a hundred different emotions in this one moment and they were all acting against his physical reaction to the kiss. The way his arm goes out to Bai Zong Yi's shoulder to try to keep physical distance between the two of them, while he is having a full out internal war with himself? Holy fucking shit. It’s really like his brain is going “is this actually happening? Shit yes it is I have to- fuck it”

gif by @maxescheibechlinichacheli

And at the start of his active participation in the kiss he is still not letting himself have it. I think he is still stuck on the fact that he shouldn’t be doing this, and as a result he pushes Zong Yi back so he can see his face, study it. All it takes is for Bai Zong Yi to go back in yet again to continue their kiss, and then it’s all over for Fan Ze Rui. He’s all in. His hand goes to Zong Yi’s face, to his neck, and before we know it he is pulling himself in to Zong Yi’s lap from the floor so smoothly.

Reunion Sex

I initially was only going to focus on the Ep 6 Ai Di x Chen Yi and the Episode 7 Zong Yi x Ze Rui moments in this post, but I am so in love with the structure of the reunion sex scene that I absolutely had to talk about it.

Again, I do not understand how actors work because Hsu Kai just knocks it out of the motherfucking park. I love that when Fan Ze Rui rouses from sleep and starts muttering under his breath and engagin with Zong Yi, you don’t need any visual confirmation from the story whatsoever to understand that Ze Rui definitely has actual dreams of reuniting with Bai Zong Yi. And you don’t need that additional confirmation because of how Hsu Kai sells the talking in his sleep moment here when he’s riding on the pills and alcohol.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

He blinks through heavy lids and reaches out toward Zong Yi instantly, his smile is absent and dreamy, and unrestrained in a way that genuinely impresses me because I feel like it is hard to pull off acting the kind of drowsy you are when you’re still trapped in the limbo between wake and sleep when you’re not actually experiencing it. Ze Rui’s touches are unrestrained, his eyes are barely opened under their own weight, and he’s loose and droopy still when Bai Zong Yi lifts him in to the hug. Ze Rui’s bones look heavy and his muscles look loose, and he’s not really able to maintain his own structure as a result. Settling back flat pretty quickly have Zong Yi has released him from his embrace.

And then the light changes and the setting gets dreamier despite the fact that Ze Riu is actually starting to wake up, being reminded this is real, Zong Yi is real with grounded touches that we see in close up. And I am so sad we don’t get to see Ze Rui’s face at the exact moment of the scene when it clicks for him that this is real, because it happens during the close up of the hands (which I am also fine with :D). But when we pull back out into the wider shot, Ze Rui is already sobbing against Bai Zong Yi’s cheek. And Ze Rui tries his damndest to be his normal jokey, smiley self once he knows what is happening is real, because that’s who Zong Yi loves, and that’s who Zong Yi deserves after all the pain he’s suffered for Ze Rui but instead he just…breaks. Y’all I lost it at the way all the strength just falls away from Ze Rui’s voice when he says “kiddo”. How small he sounds when he says he’s sorry. The meekness in his voice during his own apology speaks volumes for how important it is, how much weight it carries. Because Ze Rui knows what happened to Zong Yi over the past four years. He knows all of it. He knows that Zong Yi went to prison to protect him, he knows that Zong Yi got attacked there, he knows that Zong Yi has memory problems now because of it.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

He has all of this guilt that is driving the way he interacts with Bai Zong Yi in their interlude here. By the way: “It’s been 1,573 days. Did it hurt?” is joining my list of Incredibly Devastating Lines. And it’s not just because of the line itself, it’s not just because of the way Bai Zong Yi shakes his head no. It’s especially devastating to me because right before Ze Rui asks the question, he slides his hand up to the back of Bai Zong Yi’s head and massages it a little bit with his thumb, like he’s trying to rub at an ache in hopes of getting rid of the pain. It is in no way the focus of the scene, and the action is mostly cut off and regailed to the edge of the screen, but jesus fucking christ it did wonders for me in terms of selling the scene.

Anyway, Ginny was right, the body language was incredible, and I’m glad I didn’t watch this live or else I’d have gotten zero sleep writing essays every day of the week about some of these scenes

#kiseki #kiseki: dear to me #ai di x chen yi #zong yi x ze rui #taiwanese bl #wka long post

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