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hotchscoffeecup · 2 months

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from across the bar

summary: an observation here and a sarcastic retort there is a sure fire way to catch agent hotchner’s attention at the hotel bar. after sharing a drink, he invites you to his hotel room where he gives it you just the way you ask for it: rough.

tags: light bondage, minor self-degradation, hand sex, oral sex, p in v sex, ass slapping, rough sex

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

rating: m, mdni

word count: 4.2k

Goosebumps bristle across your skin; the sharp bite of winter’s wind whipping against your cheeks and tossing your hair about your face. You fold your arms across your chest, tucking your hands beneath your biceps and thinking you ought to have worn a thicker coat. The thin suede Calvin Klein duster you’re wearing flutters about your ankles as the doorman tips his head in greeting and pulls the door wide. Heat rushes out to greet you and you smile in thanks as you cross through the threshold.

Friday night at The Ritz-Carlton is as busy as any bar or restaurant in DC. Men and women dressed in exorbitantly priced suits and dresses mill about, laughing and cavorting over drinks; standing at cocktail tables or seated at the bar or sleek leather seated areas interspersed throughout the modern space. Recess lighting creates a dim ambience that gives Hollister a run for its money. Your lips twitch and you have to fight to school your facial expression. The opulence is unnecessary, but you roll your shoulders back and situate yourself at the bar anyway, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you do so.

“Something to drink?” a bartender asks, placing a drink menu in front of you.

You smile politely and push the menu away. “A riesling, please.”

“Riesling? That’s awfully sweet, isn’t it?”

Your brow arches in response to the deep tenor rumbling a few seats down from you. You spare a glance in his direction and note the way in which he swirls the scotch in his hand. You’re half convinced that no one actually likes scotch; that it’s more about men establishing dominance around other men while they all pretend to enjoy a drink that tastes like paint thinner.

He is quite handsome though; from the strong set of his jaw to the dark slash of his brow, everything about him exudes leadership and power. A lawyer, perhaps. His suit is tailored to fit his lean frame, an expensive watch peeking out from beneath the cuff of his dress shirt.

You thank the bartender as they place a long stemmed glass in front of you. You take a long slow sip, enjoying the crisp white wine.

“Careful, big shot” you warn, not looking in his direction. “Sweetness often masks the taste of poison. You ought to know,” you say, inclining your chin toward the glass in his hand.

He chuckles wryly and sips his whiskey, “Scotch is an acquired taste.”

You roll your eyes and check your phone, noting the lack of text notifications or any sign of a missed call and slip it back into your coat pocket.

“Not the message you were expecting?” he asks and he seems genuinely curious.

“It’s the lack thereof,” you grumble and take another sip of wine. Five minutes late is one thing, fifteen is a different matter altogether without any attempt to reach out.

“Stood up on a Friday night,” the man arches his brow and blows out a slow breath. “That’s rough.”

“I was not stood up!” you counter defensively. You take a quick breath and actually turn to face him. Your heart stills momentarily as you take in the amused look in his dark brown eyes and the smirk tugging at his lips. Quickly coming back down to Earth, you blink several times and cross one leg over the other.

You feel his eyes level on you and you struggle to come up with some quippy retort. As he sips his whiskey, you can’t help but notice how strong his hands look; his wide palms and long fingers dwarfing the glass in his hand. For a split second you wonder what it would feel like to have those fingers wrapped around your throat or tangled in your hair.

“Wedding ring,” you almost blurt out.

His brow furrows and you point to his left hand, indicating the tan line on his fourth finger. His hand flexes around the cup before he sighs. “Divorced.”

“Ah,” you say, taking another sip of your wine. “So, that’s why you’re drinking alone on a Friday night?”

“I’m not alone,” he replies coolly, arching a brow as he regards you.

His keen stare forces a rush of heat to flush to your cheeks. A smirk tugs at his lips in response to the obvious scarlett trailing across your face and neck.

Taking a deep breath, you finish your glass of wine, stand, and shuffle down to occupy the seat beside him, your high heeled boots clacking against the tiled floor. With a newly emboldened confidence, you place your hand flat against his thigh, boosting yourself up onto the barstool as you level your gaze on him from beneath curled lashes.

His eyes widen slightly, but you see a spark of a challenge flare to life inside them. “What’s your name?” he asks.

You reach for his tie, gently tugging on it. You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Forget my name,” you say coolly. “You clearly came out tonight looking to meet someone and it looks like my plans have changed.”

“I have a suite on the 7th floor,” he says.

You offer him a wicked smile, “Then what are we still doing here?”

•

As the elevator doors pings, signaling its arrival in the lobby, the man extends an arm, holding them open for you to enter first.

“A gentleman too,” you remark as you slide past him letting your body brush against despite the ample room to avoid doing so. The heady scent of his cologne sticks to you and you wonder if you’ll be smelling it on your skin here soon.

He steps inside and presses the button for the seventh floor. As the elevator doors begin to close, someone rushes toward them, trying to get on but the man doesn’t move to hold them. “Take the next one,” he says as they seal shut.

He pounces the second they do, one hand curled around your waist and the other tangled in your hair; your combined body weight thudding against the paneled wall of the elevator. His lips crash against yours, and your lips instantly part for him; groaning into his open mouth. This only seems to drive him further and you feel his erection pressed against your thigh.

“Eager, are we?” you breathe against his lips before nipping at the shell of his ear.

His left hand curves around your ass to cup it in his large hand as his other curls around the back of your neck, using his thumb to angle your chin up towards him. “You have no idea,” he says, voice husky as he moves to suckle the hollow of your throat.

You fist the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer to you. You moan against his mouth eliciting a deeper one from him. As the elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the seventh floor, you peel yourself off of him and slip through the doors right as they open leaving him panting and aching for more.

Giggling to yourself, you don’t wait for him as you head toward his room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he calls after you seductively. With a breathy laugh he adds, “You don’t even know which room it is.”

“Oh, don’t I?” you tease. Without turning back, you raise your hand in the air, his key card tucked between two fingers. “You really outta keep better track of your belongings.”

The sound of him slapping his pockets and grumbling curses brings a cheeky grin to your lips. You slap the key against the keypad and buzz inside the hotel room, slamming the door shut just before he reaches you.

A dark laugh rumbles from beyond the door and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. Undoing the belt at your waist, you shrug out of your coat and toss it over the nearby sofa. He knocks on the door and in a voice just above a whisper he starts to detail what he’s going to do to you once you let him inside. Your black high waisted trousers accentuate the curve of your waist, the black lacy corset teddy you’re wearing underneath pushes your breasts up and out.

As you move to open the door, you swipe his badge from your coat pocket, the other item you’d managed to swipe from his suit jacket.

He opens his mouth to chastise you, but instead he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as his eyes drop to the swell of your breast. He leans into his arm that’s stretched up above him where he holds onto the doorframe.

Pouting, you fold your hands behind your back and rock back and forth on your heels. “I’m sorry for locking you out,” you say coyly. “Tell me though,” you say, leaning forward, looping your arms around his neck. “Do you have a pair of handcuffs somewhere on you to go with this badge, Agent Hotchner?”

Pulling your one hand free from around his neck, you flip open the leather bifold and dangle his own photo in front of his steely gaze.

His lips press together in a firm line as he looks from his badge to you, though the smile doesn’t slip from your mouth. He pushes his weight against the door frame and peers over both shoulders before taking his forearm and pushing it into your chest, forcing your back against the doorway and knocking the air from your lungs. Your chest heaves and your abdomen clenches as you bite your lip, eyes flicking from his mouth to his eyes. He dips his chin so his lips are level with your ear.

“I don’t need my cuffs to keep you at my mercy,” he growls.

The breath in your lungs stills and you feel your pulse increase, thrumming inside your neck. Wrapping his tie around your knuckles, you gently tug him towards you. “Then give it to me, rough, G-man.”

He wastes no time. Releasing the door frame, he drops it and loops it around your waist before yanking you against his muscular frame. He walks you into the room, kicking the door shut behind him and the door automatically locks.

His grip on your hips is bruising and you love the ache of his hands on you as he guides you to the bed. His lips seek yours out and when they find them, you slip your tongue between his lips. You can still taste the scotch on him. As you fold your hands into his hair, you gently suck on his lower lip, grazing your teeth along it and savoring the moan that elicits from him.

When your ass touches the edge of the bed, he pushes his pelvis against your hip, his erection digging into your thigh. You yearn to feel that hard length inside your pussy, but you know it won’t be that easy. You’ve played too many games with him tonight to win him over that easily. You lower your weight onto the bed and wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him closer.

“So?” you ask, offering a flirtatious glance whilst skirting the toe of your boot up the length of his leg. “What’s the verdict on those cuffs, Agent?”

His fingers curl around your bare shoulders and toy with the straps of your teddy. “I’m not carrying them tonight,” he says after a while. He moves to loosen his tie and your belly clenches as you wonder what he plans to do with it.

“Hands out,” he orders, and the authority in his voice is so natural you immediately feel compelled to listen.

He slips his tie from around his neck and winds it around your wrists, tying them together snugly, but not so much to cut off feeling to them. He grips the loose end and aggressively tugs you towards him so that your chest is flush with his.

You splay your fingers out against his chest and try to reach for the collar of his shirt to start working on the buttons when he yanks your wrists away.

“Not so fast,” he murmurs. He releases his hold on your makeshift restraints and shifts both hands under your ass. With a grunt, he picks you and shifts your weight so that you’re sat fully on the bed.

“Lay down,” he commands. “Arms above your head.”

As you slowly do as he asks, your lips curl into a wicked smile. “Yes sir, Mr. Hotchner.”

He emits a low groan as his name tumbles from your mouth and you know his cock is straining in his pants. Again, you try to tease him through his trousers with the toe of your boot, but his reflexes are too quick and his hand snaps out to catch your ankle. He arches one dark brow at you before focusing his attention on unzipping each one at a relentlessly slow pace. Your pussy throbs in anticipation of what’s to come and you bite your lip as he straddles your waist, one knee on the bed as his other foot remains on the floor. His eyes are fixed on yours as his fingers make quick work of the buttons of your pants. As his fingers curl around the hem and begin to wind them down your waist and hips, you can’t help but reach up and try to run your fingers through his hair.

Immediately, he snatches your wrist from midair and slams it into the mattress. You gasp and try not to giggle, excited by this show of brute force.

“Don’t move.” His voice is low. “If you can’t follow instructions, there will be consequences.”

You push your lower lip forward, “And I hate to suffer those at your big,” you enunciate each word, “strong, hands.”

Hotchner keeps his obsidian eyes, sharp as knives, daggered on you for a second longer, before releasing your wrists and sliding your pants down and off your legs.

“Now this,” he says, trailing a finger down the lace up front of the corset styled teddy. “Makes accessing want I know you so desperately want me to touch a little difficult, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe, you should check again Mr. Hotchner,” you reply with a flutter of lashes.

He regards you curiously, but there’s a dark amusement glinting in the depths of his irises. His hand slinks around your calf, and that alone elicits goosebumps up and down the length of exposed skin. As his hand trails up the inside of your thighs, your muscles quake as you allow your legs to fall open for him.

His lips part as he discovers the missing fabric between your legs. His brow curves as he regards you with keen interest. “One way or another you knew you were getting fucked tonight.”

“One can never be too prepared, can they?”

“No,” he purrs, leaning down to kiss your inner thigh. You squirm as he presses his hand flat against your belly, fingers splayed out as he slowly drags them down toward your center.

“Now let’s see just how ready you are, shall we?.” He sinks one long finger inside you and you groan. “So wet,” he murmurs, slowly sinking another finger inside of you. You feel the moisture pooling, how quickly the torturously slow rhythm of his fingers heightens your arousal. When his thumb presses against your clit and begins moving in slow circles, your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

“Oh, Aaron,” you say, dragging out his name. Your hands fumble to grip onto the sheets as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, maneuvering his fingers each time to strike your g-spot in rhythm with the circular motion around your clit. The wet sounds of his hands wringing pleasure from your body alongside him murmuring filthy things is too much. You need more.

“Please,” you say, arching your back against the mattress in an attempt to draw his fingers in deeper. “I need more.” You hook a leg around his waist and pull him against the edge of the bed, not missing the way his throat strains and eyes roll back at that thought. He increases his speed and without warning withdraws his fingers. You immediately miss their presence, but then suppress a scream as he dives face first into your pussy. His tongue delves into your center, devouring your pleasure. His slick tongue finds your clit, swirling and sucking on the sensitive nub and your pleasure centers are firing on all cylinders.

You dig your elbows into the mattress and push your hips into the air, pressing yourself against his mouth and he moans against your pussy. You feel the deep tremble reverberate against your walls and cry out as it becomes too much to bear in the best way possible.

He grips your hips and you kick you legs up around his neck, drawing him in as if he could get any closer to you. You clench the sheets above your head and cry out, his name on your lips as pleasure builds in your abdomen, pulsing through you all the way to your core. He shifts then, and before you can wonder what he’s doing, he takes a breath and sucks your clit between his teeth. You hiss at the unfamiliar sensation and swear you see stars when his fingers plunge deep into your pussy.

You come instantly, your orgsam surging through you like electricity. You feel it through every inch of your body, from the tips of your toes to the ends of your tousled hair. The aftershocks are still coursing through you as Hotchner tightens his hold on your hips and with a grunt of effort, flips you onto your stomach and yanks you closer to the edge of the bed. The sound of a belt unfastening and zipper coming down is all the preparation you receive before he slaps your ass and the hard length of his cock slams into you. You cry out with ultimate ecstasy as he fills you.

Turning your face into the mattress, you gasp and grunt with each forceful thrust. Your pussy clenches around his thick girth. The slap of flesh on flesh is all that can be heard as he pumps himself in and out. He releases a sharp breath and winds his fingers into your hair, tugging on it. You cry out and moan as you turn to look at him over your shoulder, finding great satisfaction when you watch him melt under your sultry smokey eyed look.

“Come on, baby,” you urge and you see his restraint crack. “Take what you want.”

His brow pinches and unfurrows as his grip starts to falter.

“Use me,” you push, delighting in the way his lips press together as he fights to hold on to his release.

You press your ass higher into the air, allowing him to plunge deeper into your core as his thrusts become less controlled and his pace becomes erratic.

“You don’t,” you grunt and moan as he strikes your g-spot again and again, “even know my name.” You breathe out and groan as you turn over your shoulder once more. “Let me be your whore, Agent Hotchner.”

Hot, thick ropes of cum erupt from his cock into your pussy. He holds onto your hips so tightly, you know you’ll have bruises in the morning. You relish in his pleasure as much he relished in yours. When he stops shaking, he slowly lowers your hips onto the mattress and smooths his fingers over the tender flesh there.

Easing you on to your back, you feel his cum slip down your inner thighs as he clambers over you and tenderly kisses your face and neck. When his lips brush yours, you taste yourself on him.

You reach up and hands still bound, brush the hair from his forehead. He smiles as he reaches up and undoes the knot with one swift move. The tie instantly unravels and he casts it aside. You place your hands on either side of his face, thumb stroking the sharp curve of his jaw.

“Let me help get you cleaned up,” he says gently, eyes soft.

You nod, “I think I’d like that.”

He cradles you into his arms and carries you to the shower where he places you on the tile floor and cranks the water on. As steam begins to fill the room, he helps you out of your negligee. Without words, you turn and push his blazer off of his shoulders. You do the same with his dress shirt and let him kick out of his shoes and socks before curling your fingers around the hem of his pants and underwear and kneel to draw them down over his ankles.

He loops his arms around your waist as you stand and kisses you slowly as he guides you back into the walk-in shower. The warm water cascades over your skin, soothing your taut muscles. You close your eyes as he tilts your head back and smoothes your hair away from your face. He places feather light kisses along your jawline as he pumps body wash into his hand from the dispenser on the wall.

“How do you feel?” he asks as he lathers the soap between his hands and smoothes it over your shoulders.

You release a moan of a different sort as his fingers massage the soap into your neck and back. You turn around and lean against the wide plane of his chest as he curves his hands around to wash your breasts and stomach.

His voice is amused when he speaks. “That good, hmm?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm.

He laughs softly in your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple. He continues to wash your body, treating each limb like a holy object the way he handles you with such delicacy and adoration. When he finishes with you, he washes himself quickly and exits the shower to retrieve two plush towels from beneath the sink. As you work to try yourself off, he fetches the robes provided to each guest from the closet in the main room.

You admire the softness of his stomach contrasted with the hard angles of his face and lean musculature of his arms and legs. He really is a beautiful man.

“Thank you, Agent.” You say with a wink as you take it from him.

He laughs. “You and titles. I thought we’d agreed on no names.”

“I said you didn’t need to know my name. I never said anything about yours. What can I say? I love a power play. After all, you must be used to that in your big, bad FBI office, hmm?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Something like that.”

You continue to towel dry your hair and smile back at him. “I guess this game of ours has reached its end. I gotta say, I had a wonderful time.”

“It doesn’t have to end,” he says with a suggestive arch of his brow.

Tilting your head back and forth, you weigh your options. “How about this?” you say, taking a measured step toward him. His eyes widen, surprised by your sudden prowess. “You and me,” you say slowly and stand on your toes so you can purr directly into his ear, “drop the ruse, order room service, and watch a movie on Netflix?”

He pulls away, expression unreadable for a moment. You keep your eyes on him, waiting, and then smile when his posture visibly relaxes. “Honestly, that sounds great, babe, I’m exhausted.”

A grin pulls across your cheeks as you dash into the room and grab your purse. Returning to the bathroom, you reach deep into your bag and unzip the pocket in the inner lining. You fish out your wedding rings and place Aaron’s in his hand before slipping yours back onto your finger.

“The crotchless lingerie was a nice surprise,” he says as he adjust the simple gold band on his finger.

Your lips quirk into a grin, “Yeah, I thought you’d like that little surprise.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss you. “Seriously though, how’d I do?” he asks. “I’m not used to using my office persona around you. It’s a lot harder than I thought it’d be. With you, it’s so easy to leave work at the office and relax.”

“Well I certainly hope you don’t do that at the office.”

He chuckles. “You know what I mean!” He waves his hand absentmindedly. “The hardened exterior, the stern, hard voice, expressionless. Dominating. I’m never like that with you.”

“Naturally,” you tease, voice light. “I’m so full of fun and whimsy. It’s hard not to come back down to Earth from your Bureaucratic cloud of murder and mayhem when you’re with me.”

He loops his arms around you, hands flat against your back. “Five years of marriage and you still manage to keep me on my toes, more so than some of the men and women I’m paid to track down and put away.”

You pull back and look up at him. “You love the sex bucket list, be honest.”

He can’t fight the grin that tugs at his lips as he nods. “Role playing as two strangers that meet at random is definitely up there with the things we’ve done so far.”

“More fun than when we played naked Twister with the body paint?”

“Ooo, don’t make me choose.”

He dials room service, ordering plenty of food and desserts to refuel after your exciting adventure into role play and as you climb into the California king bed with him and snuggle against his chest, you silently thank whatever divine forces exist in the universe for every opportunity you get to spend with him like this; your lover, your husband, your everything.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotch smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x y/n

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haechoxo · 2 months

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[9:58 pm]

haechan was a mess, the last encounter with you haunting his mind. no one had seen him in weeks, his self isolation driven by the humiliation and regret.

how’d he let it get this bad?

he’d ruined the one good thing he had going for him, the one thing that could've ever gone right in his life, gone.

he caused you so much pain, so much anguish, you were sick of him, quite literally. all for what? because he couldn’t admit he wanted to be yours?

it was his turn to make himself sick. walking down to the 7-Eleven for the fourth time this week to stock up on booze, he glanced out the storefront window as he waited for his transaction to complete, and spotted you, hand in hand with choi yeonjun, as you exited the bistro across the street.

it felt like a punch to the gut, a harsh reminder of what he lost. you deserved happiness, he knew that. but the thought of you finding it with someone else, while he suffered in his own misery, was almost too much to bear, he deserved this.

all haechan could do was sigh, grabbing his items and heading back to his apartment, a sort of walk of shame, as he dialed up minjeong.

“...hello? haechan? it’s almost 10 pm.” her deadpanned tone rang through the receiver.

“y-yeah… sorry,” he croaked. she was the first person to hear from him in a while, not that she of all people was worried. “just wondering if you were maybe free tomorrow, just to hang out… i guess.”

minjeong only sighed. “listen, haechan, i don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“o-oh, yeah, i guess… i guess you're right.”

“it’s not you! well– no, yeah, it is you,” ouch, “but we both know it just wouldn’t have worked out, right? you’re too focused on y/n, and we were both clearly just using each other as a distraction.” he could only listen as she went on, too afraid to say anything, to face the truth.

“the same reason you and i would never work out is the same reason mark and y/n won’t work out. we don’t have feelings for each other, haechan. it was never there.” he sucked in a breath.

“you gotta figure yourself out. we both know you can do better.” the line went dead.

haechan slumped against his front door, the weight of minjeong's words crashing down on him. the silence of his empty apartment echoed his loneliness, the low light from the streetlamp outside mocking him as he sat there. every sip of alcohol burned down his throat, but it didn’t numb the ache in his chest. the empty bottles around him were a testament to his attempts to drown out the guilt, but no amount could wash away the regret. he needed to change, to make things right, but where could he even start? he replayed your last conversation in his mind, your tear-streaked face, the hurt in your eyes. how had he been so blind?

unlocking his phone to scroll through his unopened messages, stumbling on his chats, or lack thereof, with you. they’d been dry, barren of any feelings for weeks. and it was his doing.

the unopened voicemails, mostly from jaemin about missing cafe dates and more of johnny’s parties, but there was a new one he hadn’t noticed before.

from mark.

hesitantly he pressed play, mentally bracing for the new lecture he was about to endure.

”hey man, uh— i’m not calling to apologize or anything, just so you know, i don’t feel bad for the things i said, neither does jun. i’m still really mad at you, we both are, but you're still our friend just as much as y/n is, even she’s a little worried, renjun told her not to be and i probably shouldn't have told you but whatever. the guys have been asking about you and no one really has an answer. uhm,” mark clears his throat, “jeno said he saw you outside 7-Eleven a couple nights this week already, smoking a new pack of cigarettes each time…” he sighs, pausing for a moment. haechan can feel the lump forming in his throat from the embarrassment.

“dude just because we ‘sided’ with y/n, doesn’t mean we don’t care about you and your well being anymore. obviously you feel stupid finally, and you clearly know you were wrong, but you’re going about things the wrong way, again. you can’t keep living like this, hurting the people you care about, hurting yourself, in the process.” he pauses for a bit, and haechan thinks maybe the message had ended like that, “whatever, uh, i don’t know what else i’m supposed to say bro, just let us know you’re okay, i guess, bye.” the beep signaling the end of the voicemail rings loudly against his ear, sighing shakily as he shut his phone off.

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a/n ; this one took waaaay longer than anticipated,, i just wasnt sure how well id be able to convey his feelings as well as mark’s lovely words since I HATE HIS STUPID ASS RN 💔

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lxvvie · 6 months

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A relationship with Morgott the Omen King would consist of:

Embodying the quintessential enemies/frenemies to lovers trope.

Morgott being fascinated by the obvious size difference and as a result, he's much gentler with you.

Bickering like an old married couple. Well, Morgott does.

On the other hand, you think he's your living, breathing jungle gym and so you take every moment you can to just... be all over him.

Him not understanding your fascination with his tail. It's not uncommon to find you playing with it or— are those... flowers wreaths? On his tail?

Of course, Morgott highkey lowkey indulges your fascination, teasing you by holding his tail high enough so you can't reach it.

Chiding Morgott for his self-care. Or lack thereof. It's improved with your help.

Trying to convince him to change that cloak of his to something not so tattered but Skrunklegott can't be bothered so... there's that. For now. You're totally gonna get Boc to rectify this.

Morgott leaning into your touch whenever you touch his horns. Or his face. Hell, whenever you touch him, he's a goner.

Strolls in nature outside of Leyndell. Sometimes you walk alongside him, sometimes you don't and his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable.

Beholding the Erdtree together at night. This is also when you two shared your first kiss.

Morgott being the first to say those three words. You thought it was cute how flustered he was. Morgott was so shocked by his confession (he blurted it out) that he was about to take it back out of embarrassment until you smiled and told him you loved him, too.

Morgott highkey planning your future with him because let him tell it, he knew early on that you'd be his consort.

#2queued4u.#elden ring #eldensoulsborne #morgott the omen king #elden ring x reader #elden ring x you #morgott x reader #morgott x you #morgott x tarnished #✨ TarGott is eternal.✨

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myun-saidthoughts · 7 months

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8th House Synastry Observations

🍄 These types of connections (romantic or platonic) can't be lighthearted; if there is genuine care within the dynamic intensity is very likely.

🍄 You have to consciously tell yourself to "not react" in moments when the other person fails to meet your expectations.

🍄 Emotions flood within you before your brain can logically calm you down.

🍄 Upset facial expressions/elongated eye glances/staring oftentimes can occur when the other person is again *failing to meet expectations.*

🍄 You always will compare how *they* make you feel vs how other people make you feel.

🍄 With other intense synastry aspects (such as more 4h/12h, nodal, or vertex synastry) or genuine care, reading each other just by their eyes alone is extremely easy. Just by a look, you will know how they feel.

🍄 In these connections you may know what not to do, you logically will know that the long period of stares, the obvious dissatisfaction you feel is not really justified usually because of outside factors, the lack of foundation within the connection, or just by the fact there's been little to no communication on either end, and yet that doesn't change or minimize the pain or feelings you have towards them from their actions.

🍄 Even if one person doesn't have natal scorpio/pluto/8th house placements/aspects in their chart, if they care about the other person; they will also have intense expectations on the other person.

🍄 In a platonic opposite-gender connection where one party has a romantic partner, you might understand that their actions towards you should lessen, especially in respect towards their partner but despite that rational understanding, the pull of your connection with them often overrides. Even if a part of you wants to respect their relationship logically and consciously, the underlying need for their attention or care persists.

🍄 In romantic connections (especially with moon/venus in another's 8th house) their eyes (the planet person) tells you it's okay to let that vulnerable side of you that you've shunned out, and without words; that emotional closeness that you've always wished to feel is suddenly fulfilled and with ease.

🍄 8th house connections undertake more Plutonian energy. If you are un-healed, then their actions or lack thereof can ignite parts of your character that you don't even recognize.

🍄 If you struggle with BPD/BPD tendencies then connections that take on more 8th house/pluto synastry will feel enticing and familiar, you are more likely to be drawn to the intense high and lows that this connection brings.

🍄 The deep rooted attraction with these connections mainly lies in the fact that you can allow yourself to feel emotionally close and vulnerable to someone else, the more you crave expressing emotional vulnerability the more attractive they become to you. (especially with objective/attraction synastry aspects)

🍄 Once their actions or once certain consist factors/situations creates a severe emotional blockage between you and them; the less desirable they will feel to you (especially so if you struggle with polarizing emotions)

🍄 It could be months since you've spoken to them, months since their eyes have met yours and if you still struggle with emotional acceptance/self love/self worth/self value; then a longing for them might ignite in any abrupt moment (whether it be from a photo of them, running into a mutual friend, from reading a cathartic quote that reminds you of them) a spark that once persisted for so long will make it's self known, and the part of you that you thought you said good-bye too, might reappear again.

🍄 8th house connections consist of cycles and loops, it's a dilemma of letting go to longing, it's understandable to sometimes have these waves of wanting even if you logically know you shouldn't.

🍄 Longing for one another on both ends (all that needs to be present is sincere care) can occur.

🍄 The longing you feel if they do leave your presence is the part of you that craves emotional closeness and serenity.

🍄 Logically you may know and have objective expectations of how they should treat you because of other factors and yet certain expectations or desires you have within will persist.

🍄 Even if nothing substantial or foundational ever occurred between the two of you, the reactions within you might reenact as if the two of you dated for months, years even.

🍄 In romantic/attraction based relationships, and if you share 12th/South Node synastry/conjunctions with them; then you might feel this underlying tension to stay loyal to them.

Example:

For the more anxious type or with natal 12th/8th influence: At a party you focus on not giving another person too much attention because you feel they might get jealous or upset, even if there's nothing foundational. You only focus on their eyes in the room, and you make sure to showcase that your undivided attention is on them; even if they don't do or say anything to receive that loyal behavior. You can't help it.

For the more avoidant type or without natal 12th/8th influence (or no attraction even): You might overcompensate and try to talk/give attention to other people in front of them to showcase how "little" you care; so you may try to act like they are unimportant. This behavior could be out of insecurity, especially if this occurs when you feel jealous/or if they didn't exceed an expectation you had. It also could stem from the fact you feel fearful that you care and it feels uncomfortable that you dislike when they receive attention from others. (another note is if you're avoidant and when you get too much attention from someone else, you may realize how little you care about the 'distraction' you asked for and you'll start to wish the person in front of you was person you share 8th house synastry with)

The loops!! Cycles!! Staring! Longing! You want them then you don't, then you do, then you don't.

💞 In these observations each individual has to be emotionally prepared and open to emotional closeness, if someone is emotionally and spiritually un-evolved then no matter how "open" you naturally feel with them, that should never justify reoccurring pain or abuse that the other party causes 💞

#astrology #astro notes #astro observations #12th house synastry #8th house synastry #8h synastry #12h synastry #8th house #astrology notes #pluto synastry #8th house astrology #astrologers #astrology thoughts #moon conjunct pluto #venus conjunct pluto #moon square pluto #neptune

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turtleblogatlast · 8 months

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Leo frowns at his phone.

Or more specifically, at the test on his phone.

Around him, he hears the sound of his brothers tapping their own devices, much faster than he is. Looking up just makes Leo feel worse about his own progress - or lack-thereof.

Mikey’s the fastest, speeding through the test like nobody’s business. He’d been the one to make them all do this stupid test in the first place, so it makes sense that he’s having a blast.

Raph’s slower than Mikey is, but he’s still clearly answering the questions at a steady pace. Sometimes he looks unsure, but he powers through anyway.

Donnie often looks frustrated, which relieves Leo somewhat because at least someone is struggling like him. But that “struggle” isn’t nearly as big as his own, considering that Donnie is answering about as fast as Raph is.

Leo turns his gaze back down to his own test. He’s still near the beginning, he thinks.

He’d put the same answer for the past seven questions - the middle of the road answer, neither a “yes” or a “no.” Then, whenever he does come across one that is more one direction than the other, he second guesses himself and restarts the test!

Sure, there are a few he could definitely give a yes or a no to, but…never the “strongly agree” or “strongly disagree” that the test seemed to want from him.

He eyes his twin sitting nearby, the softshell absorbed in the test. Maybe Leo should copy what Donnie put for some of these…

“DONE!” Mikey’s shout makes Leo freeze in place just as he started to lean over.

“What?” Donnie squawks, “No way you’re already finished, you must’ve been cheating!”

“It’s a personality test, Dee!” Mikey stuck his tongue out, “You can’t cheat at those!”

…

Leo settles back into his seat.

Ignoring Donnie’s mutterings about how it was “just because it’s not an academic test” that he didn’t finish first, Raph smiles encouragingly at Mikey.

“Hey, good job! So what’d you get, Mike?”

Mikey looks back down at his test, reading aloud, “Says that I got the “Campaigner”!”

“What’s that mean?” Leo asks, his phone screen going dark.

“Apparently, I’m an “enthusiastic, creative, and sociable free-spirit”.” Mikey reads, smiling at them, “You think it fits?”

“Oh, to a T, bro!” Leo laughs, giving Mikey a thumbs up, making Mikey’s smile grow larger.

Inside, Leo was feeling a lot more mixed about this. He has no idea how Mikey knew himself so well. Maybe Donnie was right and Mikey did cheat, because how could he answer those questions so easily?

Leo’s phone burns in his hand. He keeps it locked.

“Wow, that really is you.” Raph says, his eyes flitting back and forth between his own test and Mikey, “Do you think it fits?”

“I guess? It’s fun to see at least!” Mikey shrugs with a grin.

“Hold on, I think…” Raph makes a noise of satisfaction, “Okay, done!”

“Sigh, now I’m relegated to the straggler group.” Donnie grumbles, his thumbs moving faster as he tries rushing through the questions.

“Ooh, what’d you get Raph?” Mikey asks, practically bouncing in curiosity.

“Says, uh…I got something called the “Consul”?” He squints his eyes to read more, “Uh, “caring, social, and community-minded.””

“Sounds about right to me.” Leo nods. Can’t be more “community-minded” than being a hero.

“Yeah, no one’s more caring than you, Raphie!” Mikey says, moving to lean across Raph’s shell.

“You do put the community in mind, that’s for sure.” Donnie states, not looking up.

Raph chuckles, a bit embarrassed, “Aw, thanks. It’s just some test, but it feels kinda good to hear that.”

Just a test. Right.

Leo unlocks his screen.

The test stares back at him.

Right. Okay. He can do this. He can.

The screen ends up going dark again.

Frustration builds up in Leo. Was he even halfway done with the test? At this rate, soon even Donnie will-

“FINISHED.”

Leo unlocks his phone.

“What’d you get, DonTon?” Leo asks as his thumb taps the top right of the screen.

Donnie puffs up proudly, a self sure grin on his face, “I got the result “Logician” which states that I, obviously, am an “innovative inventor with a thirst for knowledge.” Truly could not have described me better, if I do say so myself.”

“It is pretty accurate.” Raph agrees with a nod, “Even calls you an inventor, so extra accurate.”

“Super accurate.” Mikey jumps in, eyes shining.

“Yes, yes, almost like reading my own character synopsis.” Donnie’s grin had not dwindled since the word “innovative” had left his mouth.

Leo just nods along, eyes on his own screen as he skims the words. “Yeah, kinda creepy how close it got. Could have called you a nerd for extra accuracy, though.”

Donnie turns to him, eyes narrowing, “Have you even finished your test? I can think of a few words that’d describe you fairly well.”

“Test-y, huh?”

Before Donnie can strangle Leo, Raph cuts in.

“Ok, ok, calm it down, guys.” He rolls his eyes before turning to Leo. “But really, you’re not done yet?”

“Leo’s taking this self reflection seriously.” Mikey sports a faux intellectual expression as he gives a jokingly serious nod. “Maybe we all should’ve taken our time.”

“Says the one who sped through the whole thing in a record time.” Donnie mutters.

Leo waves them all off, “Nah, I finished it ages ago.”

He grins when Donnie immediately shoots him a suspicious glare. “Oh, you did, did you? Then what could you have possibly gotten, Nardo?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Leo clears his throat, “Neon Leon just so happens to be an “Entertainer.””

“Ah. That confirms it. This test is meaningless.” Donnie drones.

“Hey-“

“What’s an Entertainer like?” Mikey asks with a tilt of his head, still hanging off of Raph’s shell.

“Glad you asked, Miguel!” Leo exclaims, “It says that “life is never boring” around yours truly~”

He emphasizes this “result” of his by waving his phone with said “result” on screen.

It’s just an image he found of his chosen personality result, but they don’t need to know that.

Raph nods slowly, “Well, I guess that’s true…”

“”Never boring” is one way to put it.” Donnie hums.

“You are pretty fun, Leo!” Mikey says emphatically, because he’s great like that.

“Thank you, thank you, life of the party, right here.” Leo grins, pointing both thumbs at himself.

He’s careful not to go too overboard with it, or else it might tip someone off.

Not that it…really matters. It’s just a test. Like Raph said.

As the topic around him shifts to something else, jumping away from this brief activity as fast as any other among them, Leo finds himself unlocking his phone and pulling up the test again.

Unanswered questions stare at him. He knows what answers Lou Jitsu would pick. He knows what answers Jupiter Jim would pick. Hell, he knows exactly what answers his brothers would pick.

He doesn’t know what answers Leonardo would pick.

Leo stares at the test for a second longer, before he exits the site and throws himself into the conversation happening around him.

It’s just a stupid test, nothing to worry about.

Just a test…

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rottmnt headcanons #rise leo #could not ignore this idea that hit my brain haha #if you disagree with me on what personality types I gave the boys that’s fine tbh #picked mbti since it was the first one I thought of but again it like most of these tests isn’t super worth putting stock into #these tests are kinda dumb anyway but they’re fun to take #for some #anyway I love thinking about Leo struggling with his sense of identity #and in turn struggling with what is a persona and what is HIM #how much is a mask how much is built from taking traits from others how much is real how much is fake #even he doesn’t know #protagonist is probably a good choice for leo but I’m also tied to him secretly being the introverted type as well so #bit more of an ambivert maybe #he’s got aspects of a lot of them hence the difficulty answering questions #well most of his difficulty comes from an uncertainty of who he really is #again what is him and what is his mask #or masks #what even is his true self if his self is someone he’s never bothered to meet #a lot of the little details of his personality - the parts of him that we see peek out throughout the series and often on his own -#- they align with personality types that you would never think of when looking at him and his masks at face value #that’s not to say it’s all masks - he’s a goofy guy at his core - but he’s more than he lets on and we’re made privy to that in subtle ways #though fr protagonist is prob Leo’s most likely result

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starmosaics · 5 months

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I want to hug every person out there with a harsh moon-saturn aspect. A person with this aspect likely went through some hardships in areas of childhood; especially in regards to the relationship with their caregiver/mother. Their caregiver (usually the mother) could have been emotionally distant therefore being unable to provide proper nurturance a child needs. Maybe the mother herself was dealing with her own emotional distress during her pregnancy or after the child was born. I’ve also seen people with this aspect (including my own experience with this aspect) who had a caregiver that struggled with some sort of addiction or that the child was a witness/victim to some form of abuse. Facing poverty is also something that’s commonly seen. Because of the lack of warmth in their upbringings, this could heavily impact one’s sense of self worth. They end up internalizing the mother’s actions/words or lack-thereof believing that the reason their caregiver is so distant (whether it be emotionally or physically) or acted that way towards the child was because of something they had done.

Building solid and healthy relationships for these people is quite difficult as well. They have to learn how to accept other people’s warmth and nurturance and allow others in. Because it’s so foreign to these people to be on the receiving end of things, they could entirely self sabotage or have this innate belief that they’re unworthy of recieving another’s loving gestures. Many moon-saturn people feel that they need to take on the role of both the mother and father and step into a place of needing to be responsible for everyone and everything. They are often the most mature within their families and amongst their peers. They need to realize that it’s not their job to carry the weight of the world and that they’re only responsible for their own words and actions. They often have very depressive thoughts that causes them to dwell or deeply ruminate. Sometimes they have very rigid perspectives and see things through a black and white lens and have distorted beliefs. It’s almost like they have a weighted blanket covering the mind, and a chain wrapped around their heart. Because of their commonly cold upbringings, these people have a hard time healthily expressing their emotions. They may often feel numb or scared to express how they really feel.

Some common misconceptions people make about these folks is that they’re incapable of being emotionally open, that they’re cold and have no heart or that they’re too in their heads (the last one might be true lol). These people haven’t been dealt the greatest cards and they need to establish a sense of trust within themselves and between them and the other before they feel open to express how they’re truly feeling. They’ve build walls around themselves to keep their heart protected. You won’t be able to win their trust easily, it takes time (saturn). They likely care about you but are reluctant to showing it because they fear rejection or dismissal. Many people also think these people are boring or are somewhat robotic. Moon-saturn people likely weren’t allowed to act on their childlike qualities or really delve into their interests due to growing up so fast because of the kind of environment they experienced in their upbringing so their expression is somewhat diluted. These people are silly and have a side to them that is playful and lighthearted and they have incredible interests that they usually express when they’re by themselves. It takes time for them to fully open up; it requires patience.

Here are some things a moon-saturn person can do to work with and hopefully overcome this harsh aspect:

Therapy (CBT, DBT, Trauma therapy, Somatic therapy).

Allow yourself to do things you weren’t allowed to do as a child.

Work on reframing the mind.

Work on getting out of scarcity mindset.

Do things that bring you joy and make you smile/laugh.

Write a gratitude list.

Talk to trees/plants/animals. They’re the least judgmental of all living things.

Create a space that’s comforting for you.

Journal.

Develop a healthy sense of self worth (You can use affirmations, express yourself how you want, tell yourself you’re deserving of good things, meditating, practice self compassion, accept yourself for who you are, etc.).

Get a ESA/service pet.

Write letters to yourself.

When faced with difficult situations, find the lesson within them.

If your family adds stress to your life, set boundaries with them or fully cut them off.

Find community (there’s community all around).

Write down the beliefs you have about yourself and look at them from an objective POV. Recognize how harmful they might be.

Work on your relationships. If you have friends and they’ve stuck around, there’s a reason they’re still there. Open up and allow them in. The right ones will stay in your life.

If in a romantic relationship, openly express your love for that person. Don’t hold back.

Make time once or twice a month where you and your partner can sit and openly discuss how you guys feel within and about the relationship.

Eat a hot meal.

Find new hobbies!

#moon square saturn #moon opposite saturn #moon #saturn #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #astrology #m

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meocities · 4 months

Text

The Lack Thereof

Mithrun/Reader - 1423 words, hurt/comfort

You're nervous. You're sad and lonely and hurting, and on top of it all, you're nervous.

Mithrun stares at you from across the bedroom. He's been doing that a lot lately — you've noticed how his eyes linger. You notice a lot more than you let on about him, but you’ve realized that he ends up knowing anyway. You can't keep anything secret from him — he'll find out that you're hiding something, at the very least, and then he'll just keep staring until you tell him.

He's doing that now. Staring. His eyes bore into your own, and when you look away for a second, glance back, look away again, he moves his staring to your hands. You're wringing your fingers in your own grasp. The edges of your cuticles are dry and picked. Your skin might have bled a few times from your nervousness, and though the blood was the only thing that could have given your anxiety away (blood that had long been cleaned), you know Mithrun sees the red-flushed divot of wounds even from the distance you're keeping.

Mithrun raises an eyebrow, and the anxiety compounds in your stomach. It burns your skin, just as much as the memories do, and you know you're strong but you think to yourself, god, I want to cry.

You're strong, and you're brave, and you've always stood up to everything that has ever been thrown at you, and you're so tired. You're so tired of the effort. You wonder if he can relate.

So you bow your head, and you know Mithrun's eyes have gone wide — as much as they can, anyway — staring at you still. He's silent, unmoving on the bed the Canaries had set him up with after the new kingdom's establishment. Of course it would be silent. Of course he would be staring. You’re the one who invaded his room in the middle of the night, after all. You know you're lucky that he doesn't care.

Yet, for now, you're still looking at the floor while the former captain of the Canaries looks at you, with your hands wringing themselves into shreds, and the hole in your stomach is eating you alive. You know he expects something of you, so you take a breath (it's shaky, and you cringe because you know your words aren't going to come out right) and deliver, ineloquently, “you don't care about most things, right?”

Mithrun's told you his story. How he became a dungeon lord — and how he lost that title in five years. How he's been recovering over time, slowly but surely, thanks to the help of Kabru and his Canaries, and the noodle shop that he lives above, and everyone who's had the smallest bit of faith in him along the way. And while Mithrun's made endless progress, you know he still has trouble desiring, sometimes.

You can't imagine asking this of anyone else.

Mithrun nods his head slowly, and you realize you've looked back up at him when his brows furrow together. “I don't,” he says.

“Can you do me a favor,” you say, expecting to stop there, but highly reluctant to even consider the thought of him rejecting you before you even get the real question out. “Can I join you?”

Mithrun looks down, gaze sweeping his bed, before turning back to you. It's a silent question, and you nod, cheeks aflame. Are your legs shaking? You feel unsteady. You aren't sure if you're breathing right — feels too shallow, as if you're afraid to even make a sound. Your hands, still fidgeting with your fingers, twist a joint in such a way that your knuckle cracks, and you wince at the sound interrupting the silence. Mithrun remains quiet, and you think that you might never have taken a deep breath in your life.

He breaks this silence a moment after. “Why are you asking this of me?”

There's lots of things you can say to this — lots of things that go through your head in response. It feels delicate to dissect, yet heavy. Emotion and cognition flit through your brain, and you think about analyzing yourself in your typical pattern of being self-aware, but it feels like too much. There's no good straw to grasp onto, but the one thing that comes to your mind is that, despite not knowing him for long, there's something about him that makes you feel as if he's the only person in the world you can go to.

I don't know wouldn't suffice as an answer. Moreover, you would feel bad about not communicating to the best of your ability. To him, you say, “I trust you,” and you don't think about how his distance is the most familiar thing you've known.

He doesn't seem convinced, but he shrugs and lifts his head to lay on the side of the pillow — moving to make room for you. Your heart thuds hard in your chest, and you're both terrified and not. You wipe your sweaty palms on the surface of your clothes, because you don't want to put that on Mithrun, not at all — there's no need for him to see that you're any more nervous than he already knows you are. While your hands are wiped off, you approach the bed, lifting your leg so you can slide over the top, knees bent as you sit by his waist. You're so close that your knees are touching the right side of his waist. The bed wasn't very big to begin with, and by the way Mithrun moves his arm out to make room for you to lay down, you know he's aware of the proximity.

Which, this action makes your chest ache. He wasn’t supposed to be caring — he wasn't supposed to make this easy. You're tempted to pull back for a moment before Mithrun raises his eyebrow at your hesitation, and you bite your tongue even as your eyes begin to moisten. You won't cry, you know this for sure — you refuse to be weak in front of someone as strong as him, and even though his eyes narrow at all the things you won't say, you give up part of the act and lay your head down on his chest, nosing your face into his neck. Your left hand comes to rest on his stomach so that you're curled into him, and you can already feel the moisture from your breath condensing on the skin of his neck. You won't cry, you remind yourself. You won't cry, and if some tears do drop on Mithrun's shoulder beneath your face then it was an accident. You didn't mean to.

Slowly, his arm comes around to cradle you into his side. Your breath hitches as his fingers trail down your spine to pull you closer, stroking along the bone of your back. You can feel yourself shaking, frozen in place — you don't want to move, but something like this is so unfamiliar. You never would have expected this from him, of all people — wasn't the point of seeking this out from him because he wouldn't be overwhelming? Wasn't the point of this to have an image of being loved?

Yet, with Mithrun’s fingers at the slope of your back, the image you had is colored and crisp. Even if he's pretending, it almost feels like he actually cares about you.

He can feel that you're shaking now — there's no doubt about it. Your breathing rattles through your chest as your fingers grip the fabric on his stomach, and you feel his abdominal muscles clench for a moment before he forces them to relax. He shifts his face above you and you feel lips on your forehead — he pressed a kiss to your skin, you realize, and your heart shatters into a million pieces. You're warm, you're burning up, and all you can do is sling your arm across his ribs, tuck a leg between his, and bury your face so far into Mithrun's neck that you don't know where you end and he begins anymore.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this — nothing this nice. You're still shaking, but you're held tightly. Why did he desire to hold you?

You vocalize this sentiment. “Why are you doing this?” You ask, and your voice is quiet. Devastated. Unsure.

Mithrun doesn't look at you. He doesn't even shift his position. Just hums a short noise in the hollow of his throat — something you feel the vibrations of tickling your nose — and says, “I trust you, too.”

#mithrun of the house of kerensil #mithrun x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #mithrun #meo writings

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