#WAIT! i have the source image come back.
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I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me
It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:
At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.
On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."
Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:
But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:
It gets worse.
"Tempest, how could it possibly--"
source of this video that also includes this charming description:
Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'
There is already a meme.
Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:
Who has already done an interview!
As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!
Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.
The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.
Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!
I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.
Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:
I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.
Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:
Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future?
A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.
Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.
Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.
I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.
This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.
Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:
With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"
"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:
There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.
The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.
Even better, this weirdly grainy image?
From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.
If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.
As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.
And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...
This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.
Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.
As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...
Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.
You cannot make this stuff up.
But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.
Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.
HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.
#long post#Willy Wonka#Wonka#Willy Wonka Experience#Willy Wonka Experience disaster#Willy's Chocolate Experience#Willys Chocolate Experience#THE UNKNOWN#Wish.com Oompa Loompa#House of Illuminati#AI#ai generated
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In the wake of hbomberguy and toddintheshadows's takedown of James Somerton, I hope what people learn from this is that you are vulnerable to being scammed and lied to on the internet all the time. Even if you think you aren't. ESPECIALLY if you think you aren't. There is significant financial incentive for people on the internet to lie to you and influence you to think a certain way. It is happening to you every day, on youtube, on tiktok, on reddit, on tumblr. James Somerton is not the only culprit and there are tons of other scammers with reliable reputations that just haven't been caught.
What can you, as an audience member, do to shield your mind from misinformation and propaganda? I'm not going to expect everyone to fact-check everything that they hear or read on the internet, as that is simply infeasible with the sheer volume of information circulating online. But here are a few ways you can sniff out bullshit:
Watch for sources. If you watched the hbomberguy vid, this is probably already at the forefront of your thoughts. If a quote, image, or footage is unattributed, if citations are absent (this is literally the norm for informative posts on social media like tumblr and reddit, I very rarely see sources cited), or if sources cited look dubious and biased, take the information presented to you with a grain of salt.
Pay special attention to shocking claims. If someone on the internet tells you something outrageous, it is likely meant to outrage you. Public outrage is power -- before you get up in arms, verify the information that caused your reaction.
Fact-check when it matters. Some things are more important to verify than others. World news, politics, science, and medicine are rife with misinformation and directly affect people's safety. Before you spread a post you saw about, for example, COVID vaccines, look into how backed up it is.
Keep in mind that some things are disputed or unknown. It's natural to want answers, to want an authority to tell you how to feel about something. But sometimes the truth is unclear, and there are multiple contradictory opinions out there. It is okay to wait for more information to come out before you make up your mind on an issue.
Misinformation that you agree with is just as dangerous as misinformation that offends you. Todd in the shadows touched on this, but people are more likely to look into the validity of a claim if it offends them, and are more likely to accept it without question if it backs up their pre-held beliefs. But if your beliefs are being influenced by bullshit, you need to know about it, even if that causes you to change your stance on something. Especially then. Again, it's infeasible to fact check everything you hear, but keep this bias in mind when considering the above points.
There is way more to this topic and more informed people than me have weighed in on it, but I've been thinking about it since the videos came out and wanted to share my thoughts. These are things that I keep in mind for myself when evaluating info on the internet. There are tons of books out there on how to spot misinformation and the huge detrimental impact that misinformation has on society and I plan to read them next year. Educating yourself is important!
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𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄: 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍˚◞♡ ⃗ dad!satoru gojo
𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ instead of sleeping, satoru and your daughter argue over what to name her stuffed dragon.
𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊1.9k words. established relationship (#married). the toddler dialogue is purposefully not structured correctly since it’s words from a toddler. fem!reader. intended lowercase. warning: you will wish you had a kid with gojo after reading this.
𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.┊this was gonna be a basic thought post, but i got more and more interested in the concept and was like “y’know what? fuck it, ima just make this into a full fic.” so here we are with a more full look at dad!gojo <3.
satoru mumbles, "but i think he likes being called spike,” and it's obvious that he's sulking. you don't even have to look up from your book to confirm it.
“well, you don't know him like i do!” your daughter replies, tucking herself into your side.
you flip through the picture book's pages fast, just getting brief glances of its colorful illustrations. unicorns, dragons, knights, and princesses decorated the pages. after turning the last page, you sigh and put the book down on the nightstand. despite the fact that the book was designed for toddlers, it actually looked interesting. you just know you would love to read it to your toddler. you can imagine yourself reading it to her, seeing the excitement on her face as she explores the world of fantasy—her absolute favorite genre.
but unfortunately, that image in your head will have to wait for another day, because her attention? is completely taken by the debate between her and her father.
how the argument started is beyond you. just ten minutes ago, you and satoru were snuggled up on your daughter’s bed, trying to read her to sleep. and now? satoru and her are in a heated debate over what to name her stuffed dragon. it's tough not to be amazed at how something so easy can become so complicated with him.
"i bought him, drove him around in my car, and wrapped him up in a cute little box for you. i think we know each other pretty well.” satoru smiles and reaches across the bed for the dragon.
“nuh-uh! he not even like you!” your toddler, with her tiny hands and puffed cheeks, clutches her stuffed dragon tightly against her chest. the plushie, its vibrant green scales and friendly eyes, seemed to come alive in her hold.
he retreats back to his seat on the edge of your daughter's bed, his lips curled into a frown as he asks, "how come?"
her mouth opens, then closes again. you look away for a moment to give satoru a look of disapproval, and by the time you return your attention to her, her brows are already starting to furrow. she mumbles under her breath, "because," running her small fingers around the plush dragon’s ear. she looks to be at a loss for words, as if she hasn't come up with an answer to satoru's question.
but that's okay, since you—happily, do.
"because you’re taking his time away from storytime. and satoru, in case you didn't know? when it's time to go to bed, we have storytime.”
your daughter looks up, her face beaming as she screams, "yup! and mommy picks the super-duper bestest stories ever!"
satoru gasps, his eyes never leaving yours as he rises from his bed and holds his chest. "baby, who's side are you on?"
you roll your eyes, "i'm just sa—"
"oh, sweetheart," he mumbles as he rushes around the corner of the bed, his movements quick to reach your side. without wasting a second, he rests a palm on your forehead, checking your temperature with a clear look of false concern. concerned people don’t have to hold back the urge to smile. actually, they don't have a smile at all—but for some reason, satoru does, and he's terrible at hiding it. "are you sick? having some hallucinations? is that why you've decided to side with enemy?”
your daughter giggles, and it only feeds satoru's act.
he turns his head towards the source of the giggles. a playful pout forms on his lips as he teasingly asks, "or did this little munchkin of ours use her princess magic to change your mind? she has a way of doing that to me sometimes, y’know."
his free hand reaches towards your toddler, fingers wiggling in anticipation. as his fingers make contact with your little one's soft, ticklish skin, even more giggles slip past her lips.
she tries to squirm away from his touch, but that's when he adds another hand to the tickle fest, and all chance of escape is gone. at that point, she visibly gives up, curling into herself to try to halt her dad’s tickling.
“i-i don’t have powers, daddy!” you daughter manages to stifle out through her laughs. you smile at the sound—it’s one you'll never get tired of hearing.
"you can't be a princess without powers! every princess has powers!"
“i-i'm n-not a princess though!“
satoru's fingers pause in their spot, his eyes widening in disbelief. "not a princess? how on earth can that even be?"
you’re sure if she needed him to, he could easily write an entire book about how she’s a princess.
he scoops her up from her place next to you, careful not to let her dangling legs hit you in the process. she lands on his hip, her eyes fixated on him as he lovingly whispers, "you're daddy's little princess!" he pauses, then adds, "and mommy is the queen, so that makes me—"
“the king?”
“you’re just so smart, huh? see, a perfect quality of a princess.”
“but princesses have dragons! big ones with so many pretty colors and names! they go—“ she cuts herself off and raises her tiny arms high. with a wide smile on her face, she takes a deep breath and lets out a loud roar.
satoru nods and smiles warmly at her, "oh, i see...well, y’know what? not all princesses have dragons.”
she tilts her head, and you awe at the sight. “they don’t?”
"nope," he says, taking her tiny hand in his, wrapping it securely around his finger. he lightly massages the back of her hand, and it’s soothing—scratch that, reassuring. you can tell from the way your daughter leans her head on his shoulder, tucking herself in the crook of his neck. "you don't need a dragon to be a princess. you're my princess ‘cause you're kind, smart, and full of love. i'd say that's all you need to be one."
"really?" she asks, waiting for his nod before continuing. "okay…but i still want a dragon."
"i get it, munchkin," he hums as he takes the dragon plushie from the bed. "we still haven't figured out a name for this guy, hm?"
“nuh-uh!”
“he looks like his power is being super cuddly. he's so cuddly that he puts you right to sleep…how ‘bout…fluffy?"
“ew.”
“fluffy sounds cute, no?”
"but dragons aren't cute. daddy, they breathe fire."
"wel—" satoru begins, but your daughter interrupts.
“his name should be fireball!”
“satoru, she does have a point,” you assert.
she really did. it was a dragon, not something adorable, but something that’s usually thought of as a villain—or a protector. athough deep down, a part of you just wanted this little debate to finally wrap up so you could finally catch some much-needed sleep.
“i thought i took away all of her princess magic?” satoru frowns, "stop siding with the enemy!"
you can't help but snort at his comment. mostly because, for whatever reason, he’s taking this dispute very seriously. so seriously that he doesn't seem to notice you're trying to do anything to finally get to bedtime. "baby i was just sa—"
"who says this dragon had to breathe fire anyways?" he interrupts.
when your toddler goes to respond, it hits you. "what about fluffy fireball?" you mention. it's a perfect combination of the two. well, okay, maybe not a “perfect” combination, but it's good enough to finish this debate.
if you weren't so tired, you’d stop and ogle the way they ask "huh?" in sync.
you shrug, "well, why not? he is pretty fluffy and spits out fire. there can’t be a better name than that."
your daughter holds out the dragon, looks at it for a while, then brings it up to her ear.
she gives the impression that he’s nodding his head before hushedly saying, "got it." she then turns back to face you and yells confidently, "fluffy fireball agrees!”
"well, i don't agree," satoru huffs. "the name is way too long an—"
“satoru.”
“but—“
"satoru," you say more firmly, and his shoulders sink as he mumbles "okay" beneath his breath.
your daughter lets out a yawn, and your eyes are immediately drawn to her. you signal for satoru to come over to the bed, and he does, bending down to your level.
“is my girl sleepy?”
"um," she pauses and looks at her dragon. "just a little bit."
"i can tell," you say, gently rubbing her back. you sneak a quick glance at your husband, and he looks the other way because he knows it's way past her bedtime. you sit up next to her ear and murmur, "i think fluffy fireball is ready to go to sleepy-time."
she gives the dinosaur a look before asking him, "y’wanna sleep with me?” then, she shakes the dinosaur's head up and down before exclaiming, "okay!"
you watch as she leaps out of satoru’s arms, and plops down on the bed. the room fills with giggles and the creaking of the bed as she scampers towards the middle. once she's next to you, she settles in and gets comfortable.
you can't help but smile as you see her tiny hands reaching out, playfully fluffing the pillows around her. then finally, with a satisfied sigh, she snuggles under the covers, cocooning herself in warmth.
she sets her dragon on her left side, making sure her loyal companion is there to do his job and look after her (the princess). it’s cute really. however, if that dragon becomes even a little bit too comfortable with the job, you know satoru will undoubtedly compete for the position. he'd say, "it can't just show up one day and take my job," or something along those lines. knowing him, he might even contemplate throwing it away—who knows.
you’re jolted out of your trance when your daughter asserts to her dinosaur, "you can sleep on daddies side, he snores."
satoru gasps, “i do not—“
“yes you do!”
“when have i eve—“
"guys," you sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion in your voice. you cast a glance at both of them, making sure you have their undivided attention before pressing on. "c'mon, let's all take a breather and save the debate about your dad's snoring for tomorrow, okay?"
"but mommy, tell him he snores!" she whines. "he goes—" she cuts herself off to mimic satoru's snoring, and his face is priceless.
"now that’s just rude. how can you speak to me so coldly?” satoru scurries underneath the covers on the side of the dragon. and just like that, your daughter and her dragon are nestled between the two of you.
“this’ll be settled in a family meeting tomorrow. you two have already had one debate today. so right now? lets all go to bed.” you declare, then nestle deeper beneath the covers, closing your eyes.
as the voices of saddened "okays" and "alrights" blend together, a collective sigh fills the room. the sound of a click follows, and even with your eyes closed, the absence of light is unmistakable. it makes you feel even more exhausted than before.
you feel satoru’s arm slide around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. meanwhile, your daughter stirs slightly, searching for a more comfortable position in the cozy space between the two of you. you can feel her movements, her small body nestled snugly against yours.
you snuggle impossibly closer to your pillow, and take a deep breath.
silence, that’s what follows—and it’s nothing but peaceful. that is, until satoru bursts out laughing. "i don't snore," he blurts out into the darkness, his voice filled with mischief. "i just provide a little background music for the night."
it's at this point that you decide to be extremely biased at the family meeting tomorrow. he’s not winning a damn thing.
#(っˆ ³(ˊ ᵕ ˋก ) ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 ࿐ྂ#i think this is the cutest scenario i’ve came up with#and the best part is that it’s 100% cannon (bc i said so)#gojo x reader#gojo x reader fluff#gojo angst#gojo x you#gojo headcanons#gojo scenarios#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jujustu kaisen#jujustu kaisen x reader#jujustu kaisen headcanons
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wide open
rating: explicit
member: heeseung
premise: forced to marry a dictator king of a nearby kingdom, you're advised to shut up and take whatever king heeseung gives you and give him everything you have in return. in truth, you'd rather kill yourself than be married to this monster, but he has a way of changing people's minds
notes: fem!reader, dom!heeseung, royalty au, very slight angst, marriage of convenience/forced marriage, hate-ish sex, breeding, mentions of impregnation, use of pet names, unprotected sex, strangers to sort-of-lovers, mentions and descriptions of death and injury, lmk if i missed anything!
a/n: sixth and final entry for my 1k follower special! this is the end for my two-month 1k event! i'm so thankful for the love this received and i'm excited to start my new series/anthology! i can't wait to write your other requests as well and bring you more stories you can enjoy!
it's making your stomach churn.
the way your father looks at you right now, as if he's sorry but not really. apologetic only because shouting in delight would hardly seem appropriate at a time like this.
you can practically see the sparkle in the East king's eyes.
"the decree says so," your father says with a sigh like he regrets to inform you of such news. you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from flinging the pewter cup filled with wine in front of you at him.
"the decree can say one thing but we can do exactly the opposite of it," you challenge, balling your fists in your lap. your father turns to you sharply.
"and then what, my love?" your father coos condescendingly. "race to see which one of our heads rolls off the gallows first when the new king of the West chops them off?"
you stare at your father, clad in his deep velvet garb, the lines on his forehead pronounced in the flickering firelight in his solar. you feel your whole face stiffen as you stare back at the spitting image of yourself, the exact source of the flame raging within you. you love your father and you know him. know him enough that it's no use arguing with him now. he would fling whatever words you had right back at you with double the force.
"you're lucky he didn't snatch you in the dead of night once he proclaimed victory," your father presses on. "you're lucky he's being diplomatic about it, issuing decrees so that all the four kingdoms are bonded legally to his whims."
"it hardly feels lucky being the sole maiden of royal blood fit enough to wed him," you spit back, turning away.
you hear your father lets out a breath and you can feel him walk away towards the large window that adorns the north side of his solar. you watch as he gazes out the glass panes, his back to you.
"he's a strapping young man, a talented general as he's proven, and truly the royal seed of his father before him," your father says, something unfamiliar in his voice. he turns back to you and you see, for the first time, the fear in his eyes.
"he turned on his own father, just as his father did with his father, took over that poor dead man's kingdom, and waged a war against his neighbors."
your father's voice trembles now.
"refusal would not only mean death, my rose," your father points out quietly, slipping in the endearment he so often used with you since you were a child.
"he would make sure you wished you were dead," he warns.
you swallow, letting his words sink in.
you think back on the past year, the months of hiding, the weeks spent banged up in the highest tower of your castle, the days of weeping as you waited for your father to come back, the minutes of terror as you were told the West king had emerged triumphant.
the second you saw your father, the Almighty Blessed King of the East, staggering through the palace gates, bloodied and broken.
that wretched tyrant from the West almost took your father away from you. giving yourself to him willingly hardly seems like the right move. but not doing so would mean a fate worse than death.
"is he really that terrible?" you ask, almost in a whisper.
your father walks up to where you're seated at his dining table. he reaches down and takes your hands in his calloused, war-scarred ones.
"i couldn't give you an answer to that if i tried," he explains. "i surrendered before i could get the chance to meet him."
"then how are you so ready to give away your only daughter, your only reminder of the woman you loved?" you implore, looking desperately into your father's eyes.
he shakes his head.
"this is how i want to remember you before you're whisked away into that cruel man's arms," your father says tenderly, tucking your hair behind your ear.
"feisty, with the zeal only your mother could pass on to you."
your eyes sting with tears at hearing your father mention his late queen.
your own mother feels like someone from a dream to you. she was there one moment and gone the next. much like yourself.
you let yourself cry silently, rising to let your father hold you in his arms.
---
the trip from the East to the West typically took a little over two weeks if no hiccups are encountered along the way. but you realized, merely two days in, that this whole marriage was cursed from the beginning.
it's as if the whole world conspired against this union, and you would have been grateful for it, but after days of running into problems (thieves and hunters and sudden thunderstorms and a pack of wild boars), the only thing you wanted was to be sheltered inside a warm castle room with a cup of spiced wine on your bedside.
so unbridled was your happiness when you heard a sudden shout from outside your carriage announcing your arrival at the gates of the West Kingdom castle. your two ladies-in-waiting riding with you had equally relieved faces, your hands immediately reaching out to grasp theirs.
"we're here, your grace," the younger of the two, yuna, whispers excitedly.
olivia, the older and more cynical one, swats at yuna's arm.
"don't sound so happy," olivia berates. "this is a dictator's castle we're entering."
yuna shrinks back in her seat and you reach over to clasp her hand reassuringly.
"i'm the only one fit enough to marry him," you remind. "he should know better than to lay a single finger on me."
olivia eyes you worriedly while yuna nods in agreement.
"i'll be alright," you say. whether it's to them or to yourself, you're not entirely sure.
the entirety of your royal party comes to a halt after what you felt was an hour's worth of treading on a steep incline and only then do you allow yourself to peek through the curtains of your carriage.
you gasp as you see the fog all around. you're aware that the West was the mountainous region of the four kingdoms but seeing the clouds form beneath the castle grounds made your stomach twist uncomfortably.
"let's hope he doesn't throw me down the ravine," you mutter quietly. olivia and yuna exchange looks before giggling quietly.
you alight from your carriage a few more minutes later, the sudden light nearly blinding you. the sun is covered in dark clouds but the lack of any greenery to shield your field of view has you squinting to see in front of you.
"good morrow, your grace," a voice greets. you turn and see a smartly-dressed man approach, bowing deeply. he's adorned in the West king's court colors and it's then you notice the pin affixed on his chest.
"i'm lord jake, the royal chamberlain," he adds, taking your hand and pressing his lips to your skin. he straightens up and gestures behind him.
your eyes follow where he's pointing and you see a grand staircase leading up to the heavy wooden doors at the entrance to the castle.
"let me assist you to the throne room," jake offers, holding out his arm to you. you take it, fixing a firm grip on his bicep.
"the king is waiting," he adds.
---
you let yourself be pulled through the towering hallways, resisting the urge to gape at the lavishly adorned walls. portraits of Western monarchs, legendary shields and swords owned by said monarchs, heavy purple drapery. jake seems to understand, walking at a pace that hardly indicates that you're in any rush.
you turn behind you to see olivia and yuna following dutifully, your other ladies and servants following close behind, flanked by guards both from your party and from the West King's.
you turn back ahead of you, catching sight of the heavy doors to what you can only guess is the throne room.
"if i may speak freely, your grace." jake turns to you slightly. you return his gaze and nod.
"of course," you say.
"you need not be nervous," jake reassures. "i know of the tales you might have heard about our king. but i've been a companion of his since we were boys. he does not hurt those who are not deserving to be hurt."
you remain silent for a few seconds as you continue to approach the throne room. after a while, you respond to jake.
"i appreciate the words of comfort, my lord," you begin. "but what indication do you have that i'm nervous?"
jake smiles warmly at you just as you reach the doors.
"you've been squeezing my arm since you've arrived, your grace," jake points out.
a pause. your face breaks out into a smile and jake mirrors your expression, both of you allowing yourselves a moment to laugh.
the guards by the throne room doors heave them open and you stand, stiff but adorning your face with a look of resolve. jake pulls his arm away and steps in front of you. just as the doors fully open, jake bows to the throne and then to you.
"my most revered King of the West, this is Princess _________ of the East and her royal household," jake announces in a booming voice that startles you slightly.
"princess," jake continues, turning to you once more.
"i present to you, the Most Royal King of the West, King Heeseung,."
---
everything was a blur after that.
you do, however, remember the silver shock of hair atop the king's head. the deep purple of his doublet. the tight black breeches and black boots laced up around his ankles.
you could see King Heeseung's lips remain unmoving as you curtsied deeply in front of him. you remember the feeling of fear, humiliation, and embarrassment at having to bow in front of a cruel tyrant.
you remember the hint of a smile grace his mouth as you straighten up. you remember the sweat gathering on your palms.
you remember muffled words being exchanged between the king and jake. you couldn't make out what they were saying with the blood rushing in your ears. you remember curtsying one more time before jake takes your hand and leads you and your people out of the throne room.
now, hours later, seated in front of a mirror in an airy room somewhere on the north wing of the castle, you remember to breathe, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding.
"your grace, are you alright?" olivia asks from behind you, her hand pausing mid-brush as she gathers your hair in her other hand.
you meet her eyes through the mirror and nod.
"yes," you answer. "just a little...tired."
"i would assume so," yuna speaks up from the other side of the room, her slender figure bent over the numerous chests containing your belongings.
"i asked and it turns out we traveled close to a month," yuna rambles. "a month! who takes a month to get from the East to the West?"
you smile at yuna's shrill voice, a comfort from the eerie silence that seems to surround the castle.
"how are you two liking it here so far?" you ask, addressing your two ladies. a palpable pause comes over the room as you wait for their response.
"it's...alright," olivia begins. "better than i expected. i pictured brutes and barbarians to litter the halls but that's a misjudgment on my part, your grace."
"everyone seems kind enough," yuna chimes in. "the king barely said a word so i'm not sure how to feel about him yet."
"better to hold your tongue when speaking of the King of the West, child," you lightly berate. "we don't know who's listening."
olivia and yuna both nod in understanding.
a knock from the door to your room interrupts your discussion.
"come in," you call out. you turn to see another one of your ladies poke their head in before straightening up and bowing.
"your grace," jen, a sprightly lady-in-waiting of yours addresses you.
"i've been informed that the king asks for your presence in his study," jen relays, hands folded in front of her.
time seems to stop as you hear these words. you feel olivia grip your shoulder and you hear a clatter of something as yuna drops it. jen avoids your eyes as the four of you soak in her words.
"well," you say after a moment. "i better make haste, then.
you meet olivia's eyes through the mirror once more and she smiles encouragingly.
---
you ask jen to accompany you this time to give olivia and yuna time for their own personal needs. jen readily agreed, not more than five paces behind you as you make your way to where you were told the king's study is.
the castle is bathed in late afternoon light, a gentle breeze fluttering through the hallways. hardly any noise can be heard save for the occasional footsteps of servants and soft chatter from some of the rooms. your heart hammering against your chest is the only thing that fills your ears constantly.
"this is it, right?" you turn to ask jen. she nods as you two stop in front of an intricately carved door with a heavy golden stag knocker.
"you may take your leave," you tell jen.
"your grace?" jen asks, voice meek. "should i not wait for you out here?"
you shake your head. "i have a feeling neither of us knows how long the king will keep me in there."
jen opens her mouth as if to say something more but she stops, sighing. she nods and bows to you before starting down the hallway.
you turn away from jen's disappearing form, hand grasping at the stag knocker. you pound the heavy metal against the door three times before stepping back, waiting to be let in.
"enter," comes a voice from inside.
you swallow, reaching for the door handle. you give it a turn, the door easily swinging inward. you step through the gap, pressing your lips in a thin line as you anticipate what you might see.
the study is a respectable size, with bookcases adorning nearly every wall. a fireplace crackles with flames at the far left end of the room and a large desk rests in the middle of it all.
hunched over a stack of parchment is King Heeseung himself, a quill twirling lazily between his fingers.
your eyes meet and the king straightens in his seat.
"your grace—"
you pause, having both said the same thing at the same time. to your surprise, King Heeseung offers a smile. not knowing what else to do, you force an uneasy smile back.
"sit with me, my lady," he says, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. you gather your skirts and perch yourself at the very edge of the seat.
no one speaks for what feels like an eternity. the king has paused in his perusing of the parchment in front of him and you've busied yourself with staring at your hands resting on your lap.
"there will be a welcome banquet tonight," King Heeseung's voice cuts through the silence.
"to celebrate your arrival," he continues.
you dip your head low.
"you have my gratitude, your grace," you say mechanically.
King Heeseung clears his throat. "i also arranged for the wedding feast to take place a week from now."
you allow yourself to gaze upon the King of the West, your eyebrows pinching together.
the king sees your expression and pauses.
"but if you wish to either hasten or push back the ceremony, then i'll take it into consideration," King Heeseung hurriedly adds, his sharp eyes rounding into a softer form.
you realize that sitting here, eye level with the king, that he's merely a man like any other. a man who smiles and startles and laughs.
your mind flashes back to your father's beaten and bruised face. your expression falls.
"no, your grace. a week from now is fine," you concede.
a long stretch of silence follows. you avert your eyes to the window to your right, gazing at the vibrant sky painted in the colors of the sunset.
"heeseung," comes the king's voice. you turn to him, a questioning look on your face.
"you can call me heeseung," he clarifies.
your face must have been of utter confusion because the king smiles again.
"we are to be wed, are we not? i would assume that you'd prefer a much more relaxed method of addressing each other." heeseung leans back in his plush seat, awaiting a response.
"of course," you agree. "and you may address me however you wish."
"my betrothed."
the two words roll smoothly off heeseung's tongue and a strange tug pulls at your chest. you nod silently as if to grant permission.
heeseung clears his throat again, pushing himself off his chair. you rise as well but you make no move to look at his face.
you see from the corner of your eye his hand reaching out to you.
"come. the banquet should be starting soon."
you shakily place your hand in his and he gently wraps his fingers around yours.
"after you, my dear betrothed," he says, motioning towards the door.
---
it turns out, a week flies by extremely fast.
you've managed to meet all of the people of importance in heeseung's court in that time, memorizing names and faces and feasting with a number of them.
heeseung hovers around, greeting you as you go about your day but ultimately keeping his distance. you wonder if you should be doing more to prepare for your wedding but you don't dare question any of heeseung's or his council's plans.
in a blink of an eye, the week is over and you're standing in the throne room, draped in your finest garments, practically glittering from head to toe with the jewelry you've brought from home.
heeseung stands tall and regal beside you, his hair perfectly done and his royal regalia adorning his broad frame. strangely enough, his face is what you anchor on for most of the ceremony—a blur of vows and prayers and oaths and finally, a restrained brush of lips to make things official.
the feast may as well have not happened with how blurry your memory of it is. you sat at the high table, watching the festivities but not really seeing anything.
that is, until a particular loud courtier knocks over a chair, bringing down plates and utensils as collateral damage in his drunken state. the noise jars you for a moment but heeseung lays a warm hand on yours to steady you.
and now, sitting on the edge of your bed, stripped down to your undergarments by your reluctant ladies, you shiver at the thought of what your wedding night may bring.
you've heard stories from your ladies and you've been taught enough by the tutors you've had over the years. but to lay with a man such as heeseung, it chills you down to the bone. would he hurt you? would he demand things from you? perhaps kill you?
you shake your head. it would do no good for him to kill you now. you're both in dire need of heirs for your respective domains, him especially now that he's deposited himself as the supreme ruler of all the kingdoms in your land. and even without taking children into consideration, would he really drive in his image as a tyrant? slaying his wife on their wedding night?
your thoughts are dissolved when you hear a knock come from the door. a second later, heeseung walks in, his cape and gloves amiss, and so are the tightly-laced hunting boots, leaving him in his doublet and breeches, wool boots covering his feet.
he almost looks...nervous.
"my b—"
heeseung pauses, taking in a sharp breath.
"my wife."
your head spins as heeseung says these words. you can physically feel the color draining from your face. when heeseung says it like that, it makes it more real, your fate looming over you like an impregnable fortress caging you in.
"yes, your grace?" you respond, trying to sound composed amidst your anxiety.
heeseung studies you for a second before sighing. he tugs his boots off, undoing his doublet right after. he shrugs the garment off, leaving him bare from the waist up. you gasp softly, abruptly turning away.
"you need not address me like that, remember?" heeseung reminds, trudging carefully before coming to a stop in front of you.
he reaches a hand out, attempting to hold a side of your face but you flinch, your whole body lurching at the feeling of his skin against yours.
your heart pounds as you quickly realize the fault in what you just did. you peer up at heeseung, eyes shaking with fear.
you expected anger, annoyance, or even confusion.
but all you see is a pair of despondent eyes looking down at you.
"why are you afraid? why do you fear me?" heeseung asks, voice quiet, defeated.
your insides churn as you try to find the right words. in a moment, the whole ordeal comes crashing down on you, the day's events flashing in your mind, a reminder that this is your life now. you're married to a dictator for the rest of your days.
"shouldn't i be?" you reply, voice stony. "i'd be a fool to not be scared of someone who murdered their own father and waged a war against the entire world."
heeseung remains silent. he heaves a sigh, turning away from you.
"it seems as if it was a mistake to ask for your hand in marriage," heeseung says.
a flicker sparks inside you.
"you didn't ask!" you cry out, voice accusatory. you stand, pulling yourself to your full height. this outrage has sprung from nowhere, seized you fully, summoning all the anger within you.
"you commanded me here, you took me away from my family, my home! i came all the way here to marry an evil man and he suddenly decides that marrying me was a mistake?"
"i gave up everything i had to fulfill a duty i was called to, that you called me to," you continue, placing yourself right in front of heeseung.
"i need you to prove to me that all this is worth it. that i did not come here to be some poor slave to a tyrant! show me and prove me wrong that you're not just some monster that nearly killed my father!"
you feel the air knocked out of you as a pair of lips press against your own. you cry out in surprise but something snaps within you, the final branch needed to let the fire catch and spread.
heeseung is kissing you and you're kissing him, your hands clawing at any part of him you could reach. his own fingers tug at your chemise, pulling it down your shoulders until it slips off your body completely.
"you're sick, forcing yourself on your wife like this," you pant against heeseung's mouth. he undoes his breeches, letting them fall.
"my wife is free to leave if she pleases," heeseung retaliates, kicking off the last of his clothes.
both of you are stark naked now.
you stand there, breathing heavily as you look into each other's eyes.
"your wife will not leave until you've bedded her and put an heir in her womb," you seethe. "that's all she came here for, after all."
heeseung grunts lowly, attacking your lips once more. he shoves you down on the bed, caging you in easily with his firm body. he runs his hands up and down your sides, squeezing and fondling at every piece of flesh he can dig his fingers into. you moan and squirm under his touch, an ache growing between your legs.
"you'll give me as many heirs as i wish," heeseung says as he kisses his way down to your neck. he suckles on a spot just beneath your jaw and the sound of defiance that you originally wanted to let out is caught in your throat.
"of course, so they can usurp you when it's your time," you say through your teeth.
heeseung says nothing, only looks at you, his face pulled down in an angry frown.
"listen here, darling," heeseung commands, voice dipping even lower. he pulls you by your thighs to the edge of the bed, pushing your legs open.
he glances down and you stare at his face as it turns into a look of intrigue, his eyes transfixed on your core.
you're soaking wet, clenching around nothing as your husband continues to survey what's between your legs. he looks back up at you, a hand reaching over to grasp your jaw in one large hand.
"my father was a madman and so was his father before him," heeseung begins and you feel something prod at your entrance. you gasp as half of him is pushed in with a single swivel of heeseung's hips.
"maybe i'll turn out to be one too, but right now, all i did was clean up the mess he made," heeseung continues, fully burying himself inside you. your legs tremble at the painful stretch and all you want is to hide your face away in the sheets but heeseung's firm grip on your face won't let you.
"he started this war," heeseung says accusingly. he draws back, allowing you momentary relief before thrusting back in, a half cry, half moan escaping you.
"yeah, my sweet?" heeseung pauses to address you momentarily, his eyes dark and evidently hungry.
"feel good?"
he doesn't wait for an answer as he lets go of your face in favor of holding your hips tightly between his hands. heeseung sets up a ruthless pace, mouth hanging open as he watches himself slide in and out of you.
you grit your teeth and refuse to look away yourself, gazing upon the face of what might be another in a line of mad kings. your husband, half of who you are now, half of what your children will be.
the thought sickens you to your stomach.
but the delicious fill of his cock deep in you has you quivering with want, breathless with desire. if this is how good it feels to fuck a mad king, then maybe you are the perfect maiden to wed him.
well, not so much a maiden now that he's buried in you to the hilt, one of his hands grabbing at your breast.
his words 'he started this war' echo in your brain, but a shift of heeseung's hips has your eyes rolling back in your head, that thought forgotten momentarily.
"come on my sweet, look at me," heeseung pleads gently. he leans down, nearly flattening his form over your own. he continues to fuck you, thursts shallow in this new position
you hook your own arms around heeseung's neck, meeting his eyes.
"you don't fear me, do you?" heeseung asks laboriously through heavy breaths. "you never did."
you withhold an answer, leaning in to press your lips roughly against heeseung's instead. he growls low in his chest, his hips moving even faster than they already were.
you keep your mouths together, tongues lapping over every expanse of each other. a shiver runs through you as you feel the friction against your core increase, turning rougher and rougher as heeseung seems to lose himself in you.
you pull away, running your fingers through the hair on the back of heeseung's head. you tighten your grip on the strands and heeseung hisses.
"no," you finally answer. "i'm not scared of you so fuck me like you mean it."
the world seems to give out from all around you as the last words escape you, your hips pinned down painfully against the bed. your legs quiver as you feel heeseung pound into you, faster, rougher, harder. you let a sob rip out of you, your whole body seizing as your release slams down on you.
heeseung looks at you and only you, eyes wide and ravenous.
you clench around heeseung and he collapses over you, hands braced on either side of your head, his face scrunched up in pleasure as you feel him throb deep in you. you feel his thick seed warm up your walls and you gasp softly, your body finally relaxing.
you lay there, weak and unmoving, as heeseung pulls out and rolls off you. he comes to rest on one side of you, his hair tickling your shoulder. without another word, heeseung pushes himself up and retrieves his discarded breeches off the floor.
your heart sinks as you think that he's about to leave. your throat tightens, the thought of being used just like that, despite being his wife, his queen, repulsing you so badly.
but heeseung doesn't walk out the door. he loosely strings up his breeches and walks over to the vanity on the other side of the room. you failed to notice when you came in the first time the bowl of water and washcloth resting beside it.
heeseung wets the cloth, wringing it momentarily before walking back over to you. you've propped yourself on your elbows now, watching his every move.
"sit up, my sweet," heeseung implores gently, seating himself beside you.
you oblige, wincing at the slight sting between your legs as you shift into a more comfortable position. heeseung starts with your face, smoothing over your cheeks with the cloth, the cooled water bringing out a sigh of relief.
he moves to wipe at your neck, then your chest. he peers down at you, laying a gentle hand on your thigh.
"let me clean down there too," heeseung says. you nod, feeling vulnerable under his watch. you part your sore thighs, letting heeseung swipe away at the stickiness.
heeseung finishes and returns the washcloth to the bowl. he picks your chemise up on the way back to you, placing it in your hands. you wordlessly stand, pulling the thin fabric over you, overtly aware of heeseung watching you from where he sits on the bed.
you turn back to him and he's gazing up at you, expression softer than all of the other times. he reaches a hand out shakily, as if hesitant, and you take it, stepping between his parted knees.
he places his hands on our lower back as if to cradle you. before you could stop yourself, you let your hand smooth back some of his silvery locks of hair.
"he—my father—sent those decrees of war out when he realized i was on to him," heeseung mumbles.
you nod gently, signaling him to go on.
"i found out he'd been plotting this war for years right under my nose. i was brought up to command my father's army but i never knew it was for this," he continues.
"i begged him to stop but you can't reason with someone mad," heeseung says, voice shaking.
looking at him now, eyes so doe-like and piercing straight through your own, you realize that underneath what you called a tyrant, he was just a boy willing his father to do right.
"i had to end it one way or another," heeseung continues, head bowing.
you pull him to you, cradling him against your chest. you feel heeseng's arms tighten around your torso.
"but by the time i had dealt the final blow, it was too late. the decrees were sent and i had no choice but to fight the war he left me with."
your chest constricts.
"why not just take the decrees back, admit surrender?" you ask quietly. heeseung looks up at you and you're struck by how handsome he looks when he's not acting like the king he is.
soft lips, the delicate turn of his nose, fluttering eyelashes.
"i was already a kinslayer and a kingslayer. i couldn't lose everything after that," heeseung whispers, brows pinched together as if begging you to believe him.
a flurry of emotions course through you. despite this, you smile apologetically.
you bend down slightly, placing a gentle kiss on heeseung's forehead.
"i don't fear you," you whisper against his skin. you feel him deflate beneath your touch.
"but there is so much more i need to understand about you, husband."
heeseung pulls away and nods. he takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles.
"and i'll try my hardest to make you understand. i don't expect forgiveness, just your open heart and open eyes to see who i really am."
you afford yourself another smile. you lean down once more, kissing heeseung softly.
"they're wide open, my King."
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an internship at wayne interprises. (part ii)
bruce wayne x male reader headcanons
part i.
warnings: smut, age gap, bottom reader, breeding, virgin!reader, top!bruce, established relationship, lowkey kind of fluffy, bruce is falling in love.
a/n: aaaand it's finally here! i hope you all enjoy the long awaited part two! i was watching american psycho recently and bruh, i forgot how hot he looked in it. like. i want to run my tongue all over him.
—as intimidating as bruce was, he never found the courage, or time really, to isolate you from your responsibilities.
—was it cowardliness that he was faced with? or was it that returning feeling that churned in his stomach, swelled in his chest, until it made him rethink the thoughts he’s had of you?
—guilt. he never felt it when he was jerking off to your pictures, which have become a daily routine now.
—but it returned in powerful marches, ached at the center of his heart, ridiculing him for thinking about his employee in such a crude, exploitive way.
—he always felt it when he saw you first thing in the morning, working quietly, mindlessly as your body had begun to become used to the caffeine.
—like wind chimes, you moved around people - around the wind - not with them, as you made your way to the break room.
—three packets of sugar and two spoons of creamer normally kept you awake, but the frozen pocket pizza in the toaster oven was the real source of your energy.
—bruce winced as he silently watched you from afar. you yawned, rubbed your eyes as the heat from the toaster oven warmed the surrounding area.
—jesus, no wonder you’re always so tired. look at the shit you’re eating.
—the march of soldiers, rioting against guilt, roared, and he was reminded of his privilege immediately after. a butler that had been providing him three nutritious meals a day since birth, and a garden of wealth that allowed him to afford a home gym with the best equipment; it was all handed to him and while he did his best to give back to the city, it was never enough to pacify the war zone of his chest. he was a person, a wealthy person, but a person nonetheless.
—you were a person.
—though ironically enough, he came to the the image of you hungrily licking the grease off your fingers when you were finished with breakfast later that night.
—there was always something new about you that he would fixate on when his hand met his cock, stroking it with a glorious amount of lube until it dried.
—though he never fretted, because your lips, your face, your nose - everything about you - milked him until the fresh stock of cum had become the only slime that layered his softening erection.
—like bruce’s nights, you’ve begun infiltrating the routine of his mornings now.
—or rather, bruce began infiltrating yours after he visited you in the break room for the first time.
—good morning, mister wayne…
—oh, new intern, right? your name was…?
—he always feigned his disinterest because he liked hearing your name come out of your handsome mouth.
—(m/n), sir…
—it sounded beautiful. the softness of your voice kindled a tenderness in bruce and it could’ve cradled him to sleep had the coffee from the break room not been so disgusting and cheap.
—the third time, he memorized the pattern you spoke in. your voice always trailed off at the end of a sentence as if it had been stolen by a criminal.
—it’s (m/n), sir…
—he wished he could be that somebody.
—the fifth time, he’d gotten used to the watery aftertaste of the coffee.
—wait, don’t tell me.
your name rhymes with…
—and when you laughed because bruce was completely off by a mile, he saw a glimpse of your soul that had been sheltered by intimidation and anxiety.
—he learned he wanted to become a part of your life when he took you out for lunch.
—long overdue, but i usually take my interns out for lunch.
—bruce usually didn’t.
—oh—mister wayne, i don’t think that’s necessary… i already packed lunch.
—great! you don’t have to pack for tomorrow then.
—wait, but i haven’t set up the meeting with—
—i’ll get someone on it—already made reservations, c’mon.
—he’d learned so much about you that day, then the following, and the next; your upbringing, your hopes and dreams, your downfalls, it felt like he was walking on water with the way you willingly opened more of yourself every consecutive day.
—he could listen to you talk for hours, become poisoned by it if your voice was liquid, and bruce accepted that risk when he made another routine to invite you for lunch.
—previous nights were as followed: he stroked his cock to you, breathing heavily into the memory of your cologne, the wrinkles of your shirt, the curl of your lips when he made a joke.
—since he’d gotten to know you as more than a stained selfie, more than the meek statue that stood in the corner; instead of feeding himself with the thoughts of you that derived from pure lust, the reality of his nights had shifted.
—he stroked himself, that never changed. but he closed his eyes, breathing until he could see the ghost of you by his side.
—your shared bodies tensed into one another as his body curved forward into the arc of your back when he pushed in for the first time. you reached back to hold his thigh, pausing his thrusts because you needed to adjust, because you wanted to feel all of him in complete comfort.
—it was intimacy.
—it only melted - your body - when bruce kissed the shell of your ear, telling you that he’ll continue once you were ready. you let him in, sprouted for him like a bud in spring, and felt all of him swell larger inside of you with a whimper.
—it was vulnerability.
—he made sure you were touched, palming your erection as he rocked his own into your bud. from the nape of your neck to the hill of your back, he blessed you in the wet of his mouth, battling the sweat that had gathered on your body to see who would claim the vacancy of your body.
—he made sure to make you feel safe, drowning you in affection with his low voice, with the bridge that had constructed between your soul and his as he thrusted deeper, connected into you when he pressed into a spot that had the heavy air memorize every letter of bruce’s name.
—and finally crossed when he filled you with all of his endearment towards you, heavy and thick in combative sequence. he never pulled away in fret of losing the sentiment—in fret of losing you.
—it was love.
—from then on, bruce was devoted to melt the frost that had shielded you, just as you had melted his.
—because he was going to protect you now.
—the guilt that had been egging the shelter of his heart wilted in the pit of his stomach when he kissed you for the first time.
—and then completely died when you kissed him back.
—your arms were around his neck, and his were around your waist. you and bruce slow danced to the tune of his favorite song, in the middle of his living room, and so did your lips when he leaned in again.
—it never progressed further than that, despite the ache in bruce’s pants yelling at him to. he wanted to savor every moment with you, in case he happened to chase you away like he did with the others.
—you were special, and bruce held you like the rarest gem on earth for the first time that night.
—again, when he visited you in mornings to drive you to work.
—again, on nights where you were too tired to drive back to your apartment.
—again, after morning meetings were over and every businessmen and women left the vicinity upon the announcement of food catering a few floors down.
—and then again, when bruce’s thoughts had become a reality.
—b-bruce, ngh…
—you reached back to his thigh like in his thoughts, carefully maneuvering and pacing his thrusts into you. your breath stained deep into the cover of his pillow when bruce applied his weight into you, fitting his broad body to the dip of your back.
—i got you, hm?
—nice and slow…
—his voice tickled your nape, soothing it with chaste kisses when your muscles tensed, and you breathed harder into the pillow when you let his thigh go, freeing him to do as he pleased. the warmth of your breath fogged your skin as his girth opened you to a profound feeling you’ve been too intimidated to discover
—faster, please…
—he was humored, not because you were embarrassing like the flush of your skin thought, but because you were still the same person he’d met months ago, appeased by it. you were calmed by an assurance, a kiss to your shoulder then your lips, yet your body only continued to bloom with roses.
—you’re still so polite even when we’ve done so many things together…
—bruce pressed deeper into you, panting in your ear as he delivered on your timid demands. he knew you now—read you like a book. you were too afraid to ask for anything despite becoming so vulnerable with each other, and he made sure that you were safe with him.
—your requests were silent sans the moans that have escaped, but he heard every single one of them. his hips drove into you harder for a few rhythms, then excruciating slower to coerce a plea out of you—to pull your beautiful moans along with desperation.
—he wanted to hear you, pulling himself completely out of your bud.
—f-fuuuuck, bruce! please—i need you, please.
—more, he needed to hear you want him as much as he’d been wanting you. his arms wrapped around your waist, and his fingers curled over your cock. it provided a friction, a hole for you to press into as his fist was sandwiched between your body and the bed, and you took the opportunity to desperately thrust into it.
—secretly, you’d hope to thrust yourself back onto his cock.
—but again, he knew you; silently observant and logical, and he raised his hips back, avoiding the desperate grinds of your bottom.
—how badly do you need me, hm?
—how bad do you want me?
—bruce needed to hear it, to compel a truth to his prophecy. his hand unwrapped around you and you were left desperately grinding into the soft fabric of his sheets with a whine. they were music to his ears, and the drips of his cock dribbled over the curve of your bottom as if they were notes to a stave, to the sound of your torment.
—i-i need you, please…
—he exhaled.
—so bad.
—he gulped.
—so fucking bad…
—he throbbed.
—mister wayne…
—please…
—bruce’s two worlds had collided: his previous thoughts of you rocketed into the current with a cloudy explosion, and he succumbed. you looked back at him with glassy orbs, sweat running down the side of your face, and bruce was overwhelmed by the beauty our deepest desires. how quickly it could destroy the barrier that we’ve built, how quickly he could destroy yours and unfurl your vulnerabilities when he finally drove himself back in one long and smooth thrust.
—f-fuuuuck...
—it was continuous. you wouldn’t admit it, but he knew you preferred being filled like this. he notified the curl of your fingers, clutching at whatever you could to fulfill the aching need to grasp onto something.
—god—
—hard when bruce came down, but slow and affectionate when he pulled out. you felt every thick inch sliding in and out of you. at times, you would purposely tighten in fear of losing bruce, but his thrusts reminded you that you wouldn’t.
—bruce reminded you again when his lips suckled on your shoulder.
—i’m close, (m/n)…
—when his hand stroked your aching cock.
—m-me too…
—and when bruce pushed all of his sweaty weight onto you with one hard thrust.
—shit, shit—
—the boiling feeling in his stomach unfurled inside of you to release his devotion in heavy, white loads. they filled you with heat, spreading thick within you as bruce slowly rocked himself weakly, squeezing every ounce of his love into you until you could feel it yourself.
—bruce—
—your eyes rolled back and you could feel the thick of his cum dripping out of you and down your legs the more he plunged into your hole, and it didn’t take very long for you to come undone yourself. the seam of your mouth kept your moans contained as you blasted bruce’s fist and the sheets with your affection, and it wasn’t until his hand came down to pump you that you exhaled a staggered, breathless groan. the drips came out heavy, sticky, and you rocked into bruce’s fist until they spread themselves thin onto your pelvis, over your cock, and stained deep into the sheets.
—as you both lay breathless, bruce remained on top, puzzled into you as he found comfort in your muscles loosening like the flaccid of your length. he continued playing with your soft flesh, squeezing and spreading the layer of seed that covered his hand, and chuckled when you silently squirmed.
—not away from him like he’d thought, but back into him.
—because he was your guardian now.
nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
#✰ : nou.fics#✰ : nou.dc#✰ : nou.brucewayne#x male reader#male reader#bruce wayne x m!reader#bruce wayne x male reader#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne x y/n#x m!reader#batman x male reader#batman x reader#batman x m!reader#batman x you#batman x y/n#bale!bruce wayne#bale!batman x reader#dc x reader#dc comics fanfiction#dc fanfic#dc x male reader#bruce wayne headcanon#bruce wayne fic#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne#batman#batman headcanon#christian bale#bruce wayne headcanons
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Channeled love letter from your soulmate 💌
Pick a pile <3
1 - 2 - 3
4 - 5 - 6
from left to right — Instinctively select the picture that feels right to you, whether based on your thoughts or the desires of your inner self. Choose the one that resonates with you, keeping in mind that this reading is meant to be general in nature and may not resonate with everyone.
Disclaimer — The images I used to select a pile were sourced from Pinterest, I hope the reading will resonate with you. I'm not responsible for any decisions you make in your life from my readings. I'm just a beginner and these readings are just for fun.
⌗ Check masterlist for more ! 🧿✨️
Pile 1
Hi baby! 👋 how are you? Tell me I'm listening to you. I can listen to you for hours, i just love your voice ya know!
I want to make you my princess 👸💓 No, you are my QUEEN!!
l'd leave this world for you my darling! I'd buy you any item you want. I love your eyes, i get lost in them. 🥺 I wanna look into your eyes forever!
Ahh, i can't resist being near you. Don't ever leave my side. It hurts when we are apart, i hate it even when we are just away for a few hours :(
I miss you sm! Time moves so fast with you around me! I get lost in you that I'm not aware of time passing by. We are getting older day by day, look how far we've come in this journey of love!
Everything moves so fast, it scares me! Time changes but me and you never. We have the same love for eachother. Aren't you proud of us?
With you, I just smile. I'm not aware of my sufferings when I'm with you baby.
I wanna go on dates with you, just like we used to before. I hate it when we are apart even it's just for a moment. Love me forever, be my forever please. Love you baby 💓
Please leave feedback in comments! Sending Lots of love <3
Pile 2
Wait ! Did I tell you how beautiful you are !? Just like a ball of sunshine. I get so mushy just from admiring your cuteness. You make me blush.
In a world full of negativity, cheating partners, situationships, hook ups etc. Aren't we lucky to have eachother for eternity as each other's loving a loyal partners?
We should be grateful as not everyone receives true love in their lives amidst these fake people.
Like would be so meaningless without love right? When you are with me everything is good for me, even the bad things.
I want to go on a cruise with you. It's my dream.
You are my love, you are in my prayers. I'm so passionate for you. Don't let these obstacles get in our way, don't be shy with me. You can say that you love me.
I get nervous around you too. Or we can just look in each other's eyes?
Be my life partner. I want to spend the rest of my life with you please. Not just life, i want you for an eternity.
If I could ask god for one wish, I'd ask for you in every lifetime. Everything is okay when you are around.
I can tell you my pains and sorrows and I can listen to yours. I get strength from your smiling, happy face. With you, earth is like heaven for me.
Isn't it beautiful that we are two bodies one soul? Even if I die, I'll come back to you, I promise.
Please leave feedback in comments ! Sending Lots of love ❤️
Pile 3
I'm in love with you. Time stops when I look at you. I can admire you for hours. I'm at peace with you.
You can call me a fool, but you are just like a fairy and I'm just a human, mesmerized by your enchanting beauty.
You give me peace, you voice, your soft hair, your eyes, everything about you makes me feel calm. You are a part of my soul.
I want to make you mine. I will spend all my nights in all the ups and downs of your life. I will be there in the bad times too, darling.
I'd write songs and poems about you. When you smile, it feels like heaven.
I really love you, trust me.
I really love you trust me.
I really love you, trust me (Idk they're just repeating this. They wanna make you trust in their purity of love)
Yes you can call me a fool whatever you want. But I'm madly in love with you.
Days and nights pass. I fear your absence. Life stops in your absence.
I'll do anything you want, I'll give you a bouquet of roses. Trust me, I love you.
You'll get addicted to me. (not in a bad way) You'll want me in your arms day and night. I know you want me. But you show that you don't, i know everything. I don't know what should I do, you too don't tell me. It's bad that you hide it from me. Don't do it, cuz i love you. Your nights would be sleepless without me. (Not in an nsfw way) Look closely into my heart, you'll find yourself.
Please leave feedback in comments ! Sending Lots of love ❤️
Pile 4
There is a limit to your emotional and physical capabilities, I know you are tired of telling everyone this and no one is listening to you, but be aware that I'm here for you, I'm listening to all of your needs. I know no one knows those things about your past, but don't let yourself fall.
Look at your passion for it! You are walking circles within yourself. I'm aware of everything but I can't do anything about it except to be there for you and to listen to you.
We are bound within our own worlds for now. Wait for me. If we lose our hopes now then how will me meet? I know life is teaching you so much. It's the same for me. But remember we are getting close to each other day by day.
Everyone left you at your worst, and your heart doesn't accept this. I know all of that. Please hold on a little longer I'm coming towards you.
Since the day you've stepped into my life, it's been sincerely great for me dear.
My destiny is written with your name. I don't know how to live without you, love? (They're a but emotional telling you this)
My heart hurts seeing you like this, everything will be okay. I learned how to live from you, but never without you. Can you please not cry? It hurts me.
And yes, every compliment I ever gave you was honest. Life feels like life with you. It's colorful with you. You are the sky to my earth. I look upto you.
Come here and hug me. This connection is for a thousand lifetimes. Don't hide your tears with me.
Our connection is a secret, i haven't told anyone about this. I remember you from our past life.
I miss you every second that passes. I feel alone without you. Do you too? Don't worry I'm on my way to you.
Lots of love, 💓
Yours Only ✨️💕🧿
Please leave feedback in comments !
Pile 5
My heart doesn't accept this. It's stubborn and doesn't listen to me. It's not willing to mend the broken strings.
Why can't we forgive our mistakes? I'm sacred everything will be lost.
I don't know, my heart doesn't believe in it. Why can't we be together? All the promises are broken now?
The relationship which grew so beautifully like a rose, why is it just thorns now? My heart doesn't recognize itself. I don't recognize myself.
We gambled our happiness. No one know about this. No one knows our pain.
Our silence keeps screaming. You might be happy without me, but I'll be not.
I don't pray now, I've lost hope.
Why should I be embarrassed about telling people that I'm nothing without you?
See, you're making me go crazy. But I still want you, there's no other place I wanna be except near you.
Time will heal my pain. Who knows I'll be there tomorrow or not. Please accept me. Your thoughts keep me awake at night.
Pile 6
The night of our union will be magical. It'll bring lots and lots of happiness and healing.
I can sense the naughtiness in your eyes.
I want to have a child with you. The house will be empty no more.
You are like a dream I never wanna wake up from.
This world feels wrong, you are the only right thing in my life.
You've become my everything. My laugh, my cries. Everything.
This world tells me that my love is unrequited, atleast i can admire you from afar.
You are the last reason I'm living. And the first reason of my happiness.
Please leave feedback in comments!
Thanks for reading. Please be kind in the comments, I'm just a beginner so don't take these readings seriously. Take what resonates. And ignore grammatical errors please, english is not my first language.
#tarot and astrology#tarot cards#tarot reading#tarot blog#tarot community#tarotcommunity#tarot#tarotblr#tarot blr#tarot beginner#astro observations#astro notes#astrology#pick a pile#tarot pick a pile#pick a card#pick a picture#tarot game#tarot requests#divine feminine#free tarot reading
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Remember when you explained the hierarchy of the heretics? I really love this pyramid. It was made in such a logical way, but seeing this pyramid brought this question to my mind. Is there a hierarchy system (pyramid) of those on the Prototype's side? So, for example, creatures like Catnap and Huggy Wuggy are on the side of the Prototype, if I understand correctly. So do you have a hierarchy system for them?
(Personally, I think Catnap would be at the top of this pyramid. But I would like to hear your opinion more)
yup, i actually had it at the same time that the other one, but i was waiting for someone to ask for it.
Just so you know, all classifications and stuff like that was made by Alba, she like to keep track of everything, incluying the other side of the factory. Since she know the cult has a strongly religious view, she decided to classificate them in a ''religious'' way
1- The prototype ''Lucifer''
''Never had fully she him, but we all know his image is more that our eyes could deal with, forming himself with everything he can found, there's no limit for the creature that call himself the owner of the true. I know his intentions weren't wrong at the beginning, but now... I can't call him my saviour nor my angel, no when he has become blind with pride, just like the one that create us all''
2- First PJ ''Lilith''
''There's a reasons Play.co started to make all experiments genderless, they try to give reproductive organs to a experiments once, and the result was Lilith, a Pug-a-Pillar that only need Poppy serum to survive, but that instead of grown would produce new ''baby pjs'' that came from eggs similar to a kinder surprise. It was a success in the beginning, they thought she was the answer to the financial problem, and the possibility to sell the babies as pets was even in paper, but... she start to morph, the babies start to come out bigger, hunger, and dangerous. She was caged underground without serum in hopes to stop her transformation and the egg production, but after the Hour of Joy the prototype broke a Pipeline and create a source of food for her, making her grown to the point she's now. Yeah, we all get to eat the babies to survive, but the idea of her existence under us is even scary that the own prototype.''
3- Catnap ''Paimon''
''So loyal to his superhero, that he's unable to see all the crimes the prototype has send him to commit in his name. His claws are dirty with children blood, and that something nobody can come back, but... I think there's still someone inside him, someone that Nell also know, but i don't know is theres even a way to reach to that child, a child that is deep sleep in the red smoke''
4- Candy Cat ''Beelzebub''
''The only reason we hadn't a Pug-a-Pillar infestation in the factory, he's so big but at the same time is till able to get into place he's not supposed to be, i guess is a cat ability of sort. He eat everything, no matter what, no matter if is ally or enemy, he just eat. Somehow, he eat a full beam from the playcare construction, said beam broke his skin from his stomach, and still, he's alive. No sure what can kill this beast.''
5- Boxy Boo ''Leviathan''
''The gatekeeper of the prototype's room, he's more intelligent that it show, an actually dangerous predator, he knows how to be really quiet, to the point of make you release that you're fucked when the music box start, but luckily, he's also only like human prey, so is weird to see him attack us. Daddy was a idiot and tried to show off by dare him into a fight, he thought that would impress Mommy and make her interesed in him (she wouldn't, he was too chatty and weepy in her eyes), what a way to make Mommy a ''widow'', but Boxy was a good winner at least, just taking Daddy body and leaving us alone.''.
6-Miss Delight ''Astaroth''
''The only reason she's still alive is 'cause Catnap feel pity for her, and 'cause we found her useful, since she know where are all Play.Co documents, and is full of random information that has help us more that in one ocassion. Her mind is completly gone, but by just giving her a piece of food she become docile. Just for the note, never mention or ask for Barb, 'cause she would speak for hours about her, to the point of force you to speak with Barb and follow the ''conversation'' she affirm the pointy shit is making with you. Nell make the mistake once and was enough to never make him put a foot in the school again, and that was 6 years ago, and Delight keep saying ''where's the doggy coming back? Barb want to resume their talk with some tea'', i can't even tell him without laughing.''
7- The followers
''they're just hungry, and desesperate. The Pjs were born in the cult, and are blindly loyals, while the rest are just broke enough to don't give a fight, they just follow the prototype and hope, pray to be the next sacrifice to stop their misery, to stop the hunger''.
#i take big inspirations in ''aliens Vs predators'' for some things here#poppy playtime#smiling critters arg#ask#nova say
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Um hello! Is the 1k event thingy still up?? If so I would like to request a classmate! Dr ratio x reader at 2:47 am?
it's actually sickening how much fun i had with this i was giggling at my own jokes while typing this out... this was so fun to write THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!!
my 1k event!
—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—
A blaring, aggravating, shrill sound wakes you up. Your hands go to cover your ears, protecting your sanity from the noise ringing somewhere from the tangle of sheets on your bed. Hands flailing around desperately to find the source of the piercing chimes, you writhe around in agony until you finally latch onto your phone.
The brightness of the screen digs into your corneas as you lift up the device to see the caller ID of whoever had the guts to bother you on a school night.
It comes to no surprise that the caller name reads “VERITAS FUCKING RATIO” in all caps with no contact photo. Your eye twitches and the grip on your phone tightens, just a hair away from leaving finger-shaped dents in the metal.
Begrudgingly, you answer the call, tucking the phone next to your ear with nothing less than displeasure. “Veritas. Why are you calling me at—” you pull your phone back to check, “—almost three in the morning?”
“The works cited page,” Veritas Fucking Ratio informs you matter-of-factly. There’s no hint of sleepiness in his voice, nothing that could possibly chip away at his good image, of course. “You did it in the wrong format. It’s supposed to be APA. This is a science project, not a literature project.”
You might kill him. The project in question is to be presented tomorrow— today at ten in the morning. Ratio and you had been working on it for an entire two weeks, broken up into intermittent hour-long sessions because he was adamant that you split up the work instead of rushing to do it all the night before. Stupid self-righteous gorgeous beautiful academic genius-freak. Yeah, it definitely helped you in the long run, but he acted so sanctimonious about it that you refused to admit the benefits.
“Veritas,” you imbue the syllables of his name with poison, as much as you can when you’re swaying as you sit up on your bed and fighting demons to not fall back asleep. “This is such an easily-fixed thing. Do you know what time it is right now? Why are you even awake? You know, I am supposed to get a full seven hours of sleep every night, and I was already cutting it short today, and you woke me up before I could even hit REM sleep. Do you know how upsetting this is? Fix the goddamn works cited yourself!”
For once, Veritas is at a loss for words. The other end of the line is so quiet that you have to double check and make sure he hasn’t just hung up on you. Perspiration builds on your palms, thinking that this is it—this is the exact moment that you make Veritas-Fucking-Ratio snap and delete your name off the project credit slide, and you’re going to get a 0 because he will wipe off any evidence of your work from this plane of existence, and you will spend the rest of your measly life chasing after your MLA-turned-APA works cited page, too-little-too-late.
“I’m awake because the— well.” He pauses, and his voice sounds so far away and unobtrusive that you’re almost worried. Your breath stills in the middle of your diaphragm. Waiting. “The works cited is one thing. But I wanted you to look at the slides, if you can.”
If you can, he says, as if he’s giving you a choice, which he literally never has during this entire process. You had no role in choosing the topic, or the slide theme, or what days you worked on the project, or how often you worked on the project (because god forbid you procrastinate a little bit, right?!), but now, at almost three in the morning, Veritas is saying something along the lines of oh please my dearest project partner, I request that you open the Google Slides at once, but only if you would like to! I would never infringe on your free will at three in the morning, because I respect you as a partner. Or something like that. That was pretty much the gist of it.
A raspy sigh escapes you, and you claw your busted laptop off the nightstand next to you, opening it up and squinting at the LED screen as you punch in your passcode. “You know, I have done a good job at going along with all of your whims, Veritas, the least you could do is fix the works cited for me. Seriously, how did you even miss that? You’re so detail-oriented, but you didn't even realize the format was wrong until tonight? Who even cares, seriously… it’s just a slideshow…”
Your voice trails off as the slideshow presentation finally loads in. You see Veritas’ default profile picture blink in the upper right-hand corner, signaling that he’s viewing the slideshow with you. The slideshow which has apparently undergone a huge makeover.
It’s—pleasant to look at. This entire time, you and Veritas had been editing a default, white-background black-serif-font-text slideshow. He refused to change it, telling you that it’s unprofessional to do anything too embellished, to which you fruitlessly said, Veritas, we will die early deaths because of the hole in the ozone layer, would you at least make it easier on my poor soul by letting me choose a pokemon-theme slide? Veritas had pretended like he couldn't hear you (in a very quiet library room, mind you), but the twitch in his brow gave him away.
Now, though, the slides are decorated. It’s a really nice theme, complete with custom icons and graphic blobs of color—your favorite color, might you add. It’s—pretty. Dare you say, cute, but you think Veritas would vaporize your entire presentation if you called it cute.
“Did you— this— did you pay for this slide theme?”
“You— n— mn,” he trails off into an unintelligible mash of mumbling, and you hear a loud THUD that sounds awfully like the phone being thrown onto a mattress. Fabric shuffles around, before you hear Veritas’ voice again, clear and composed. “Sorry. I dropped my phone.” What a loser, and a liar, and an endearing freak. You really wish he video called you because you need to see his totally-very-ugly face.
“I thought this was unprofessional, Veritas,” you say teasingly, a smile lining your words as you try not to giggle right into the phone. “What made you have a change of heart?”
“Nothing,” the typical firmness of his voice has returned, much to your dismay. “The works cited is still wrong. You have to fix it.”
“Oh, whatever you say, honored Ratio,” you open up your trusty citation-generator, ready for a long fifteen minutes of copying and pasting information. “Hey, you must be free after class tomorrow, right? Since the project is pretty much over, right?”
“Yes,” Veritas answers after a moment of hesitation, only a hint of doubt in his voice.
“That’s great. Keep your schedule clear, then.”
(You fix the works cited slide, wish Veritas sweet dreams, and then wake up in the morning to completely ace your presentation. The minute the period ends, you drag him out of the classroom and into a coffee shop, paying for some five dollar pastry and joking that it’s payback for the cute slideshow theme that he definitely paid five dollars for. Veritas is an awful liar, and you tell him that, and he can’t even find the strength to deny it.)
—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—
gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin
fill out my event taglist (pinned) or general taglist (navi) to be tagged in upcoming works!
#nora hits 1k#dr ratio x reader#veritas ratio x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#dr. ratio x reader#honkai x reader#ratio x reader#i love this man he's like a wet piece of bark#like a rained-on plank of wood#this drabble is longer than my dan heng one im sick... dr ratio will not overtake my favorites leaderboard.
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Pls do a fic or smthing where readers old guy friend finds her and they reconnect and they’re both crying and Arthur is like who is this and reader is like he’s my closest friend from home I haven’t seen him in ages and Arthur is all jealous kinda
Hi, Kids!
So sorry for the wait. Life has been busy, but I've been plugging away on this one. Thank you so much for this "ask"! This was actually an idea that I had for my regular "Arthur x reader" fic, so I was happy to oblige. I wrote this to coincide with my reg fic and I decided to go more angsty than smutty for this one, so I hope that is OK for the Anon who asked.
**Special thanks to @readingcoco for beta-reading for me. Your help was priceless.
LEATHER AND LACE - SAY HELLO TO AN OLD FRIEND
Summary: Arthur is none too pleased when you run into an old friend from your previous life.
*This is not my image. This belongs to Rafa on Pintrest. Beautiful work there.
Masterlist
Tagging: @daisybvck
The banging of an anvil echoes heavily in your ears, the deafening ringing thumping in your brain. You and Arthur have wandered into the busy town of Cripple Creek to see the local farrier. You have spent the last day hunting and while coming down through the valley pass, your horse, Blue, had thrown a shoe. Never one to neglect your horse, you insisted Arthur take you into the closest town to get him some attention immediately.
Now, Arthur is a firm believer in taking proper care of one’s horse, as a man’s horse means his survival. But the way you fuss over this spoiled animal as if he were your child causes Arthur to just chuckle and shake his head at you.
Coming out of the farrier’s building, you shield the sun from your eyes as you look around at the townspeople. The area seems pleasant enough. It is a depot location for one of the railroad lines, so there is a lot of traffic. People are coming and going, always in a hurry to go somewhere or nowhere. But always in a hurry to get there all the same.
You passed several pungent livestock farms on the way here, but now you can inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh air being pulled into your lungs. A slight breeze kicks up, lifting the soft tendrils of hair that frame your face to sway gently in its wake.
Arthur looks over as he lights his cigarette, amused at how your eyes roll closed and your whole body relaxes in a rare moment of peace and quiet. He really should get you out of that camp more often. Maybe he’ll hold off a bit on returning home, and the two of you can spend some more time alone together.
You can feel the bulk of him leaning in closer to you as his gloved hand runs down your spine to land on the small of your back. “Well, what do ya think? Should we get a room for the night or just rut about in the woods like we usually do?”
Your lips pull into a smile at his suggestion, and when you open your eyes, you are met with Arthur’s twinkling suggestively at you. Your face immediately brightens as you turn your body into him, hands finding their way to his broad chest. Your fingertips play with the upturned collar of his faded black button-down shirt. Giggling with excitement at the idea, you push up onto your tiptoes, your nose flirtatiously inches from his. Arthur’s hands settle comfortably at your hips, his arms enfolding you.
“Y/N? Y/F&LN, is that you?”
A vaguely familiar voice distracts you from answering Arthur’s question, but you can’t quite place it. Turning your head in confusion, you search for the source, and suddenly, your eyes widen with recognition.
“Robert?” Your gaze lands on a tall, slender man making his way through the crowd towards you. He is well-dressed in a blue and gold brocade vest and has auburn hair neatly combed back. He’s sporting more facial hair than you remember, giving him a distinguished look. He’s a bit older now, but you’d recognize that wide, toothy smile anywhere. An unexpected shriek of excitement escapes your lips as your hands slip away from Arthur. “Robert!!”
Arthur stands there dumbfounded as he watches excitement overtake your whole body as you run into the waiting arms of this mystery man. Who in the hell is this person? And why did you just abandon Arthur to embrace him like that? You and this strange man hug each other tightly, laughing and smiling as if God himself had gifted you each other.
“I thought you were dead, Y/N!” the man exclaims, holding you at arm’s length so he can take a good look at you.
“I thought you went to Europe! I thought I’d never see you again!” you laugh incredulously. Shaking your head in wonder, you throw your arms around the man’s neck again.
Arthur stands quietly, eyebrows knitted together, lips pulled into a thin line. He doesn’t like this one bit. The only person he’s ever seen you this excited over is him. Arthur’s fingers tap impatiently along his belt where his hands sit idle, as he waits for you to finish this reunion. Eventually, he clears his throat to try to turn your attention back to him.
Finally remembering yourself, you turn towards Arthur. “Arthur, this is Robert, my best friend.” Arthur’s eye catches how your arm eagerly loops around the man’s elbow. “We knew each other as kids. We grew up together back east!” You continue to gush as you present your old friend to your current lover. “Robert, this is Arthur.” You motion to the mountain of a man standing to your right.
Robert’s face lights up as he boldly strides closer, extending his hand out to shake Arthur’s. “So nice to meet you, Arthur!” His voice chirps with bravado and swagger, instantly making Arthur’s skin crawl. When Arthur doesn’t reply with the same enthusiasm, Robert turns back to you, eyebrows raised with curiosity. “So, is this your…husband?”
A slight giggle comes from your lips at the suggestion. “No, we’re not married. But he is mine.” You smile proudly at Arthur, your hand reaching over and squeezing his. Arthur smiles down at you as his body drifts slightly closer to yours. His strong arm snakes around your waist until you rest protectively against him. When he sees you beaming at him, it sets him at ease a bit with this intruder and he tries to relax a little.
“Robert, is it? Well, Robert, looks like you and Y/N go way back, huh?” Arthur asks, trying not to come off as annoyed as he feels right now.
“Oh boy, do we. We used to get in all kinds of trouble together.” Robert waves his hand in emphasis, then reaches out to tap your arm. “Y/N, remember when we used to sneak out and stay up ‘til 3:00 in the morning?”
You cover your mouth in embarrassment. “God, if my father ever found out what we were up to, he’d have taken a belt to me for sure!” you roll your eyes.
Robert’s dark eyes fall upon you with a sweet and nostalgic look, one held with affection of a time long past. “Used to be you and me, spitting off the edge of the world, right?” He leans over to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from Arthur and into his side.
You smile affectionately back at your friend, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. You and me.”
‘You and me’ - The phrase sticks in Arthur’s brain, a phrase you should only be using in reference to him… not some other random fella. His lip curls into a slight sneer of contempt, however, you are too caught up in the camaraderie with your friend to notice.
“We need to catch up! Come on, let’s get a drink and a bite to eat. I want to know everything that’s been going on with you since we last saw each other,” insists Robert, tugging on the sleeve of your white cotton tunic.
“Oh, yes!” You turn towards Arthur. “Can we, Arthur? We have time, don’t we?”
Right now, Arthur wants nothing more than to get you away from this man, this town and everyone else in the world. But he can’t say no to that wishful look on your face. He doesn’t have the heart to crush your hope. That has always been Arthur’s weakness: he can never say no to you.
“Fine, I guess we got some time to spare,” Arthur reluctantly agrees, trying to hide the disdain that threatens to break through his patient facade. You clasp your hands together, giving a little hop of excitement.
The three of you turn to head down the side of the street, with you and Robert chit-chatting incessantly the whole time. As you stroll along, Robert explains how he has become a lawyer and is traveling to California to take care of some estate affairs for a prominent family. He is just stopping for a layover in Cripple Creek to catch a connecting train.
Instead of going to a saloon, you reach a little restaurant along the main strip in town and head inside. Robert orders a bottle of the best liquor the bar has to offer, and you all sit around a table as he proceeds to tell you of all the gossip from back home.
Robert is so animated and full of life and fun, not caring at all about the judgmental looks of others as he loudly tells you anecdote after anecdote. But he’s always been like this. For as long as you’ve known him Robert doesn’t care what anyone thinks and therefore is free to do as he pleases. This is something that you have always loved about him and why you were such good friends when you were younger. He was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy upper-class world. And to be honest, you always had a bit of a crush on him, too.
“So, David and Clare got married, you know,” he smirks. Of course, Robert is referring to your ex-fiance who you were betrothed to, who, as it turned out, was sleeping with your friend the whole time.
“I figured as much,” you reply dismissively.
“Huge obnoxious wedding, of course.” Robert waves his hand with a flourish.
You huff out an unimpressed chuckle. “I figured as much,” you repeat again.
“Wasn’t even six months, and the rumors were flying about his infidelity.” Robert laughs at the absurdity of it. You roll your eyes and take a large swig from your glass. “You dodged a bullet there, my friend.” Robert gives you a wink.
Arthur has to stifle a snicker at the irony of the man’s choice of language.
“Probably should’ve just married you myself,” smiles Robert. The statement makes you blush a bit under Robert’s affectionate gaze. But it is a statement that sets Arthur on edge.
Arthur patiently pretends to listen as you and Robert continue to laugh and joke about old friends and the social scene you left behind, the pair of you growing more and more chummy, until eventually, you find yourself resting a hand on Robert's forearm as you speak. Arthur clenches his fist tightly under the table, his eyes staring at your fingers and watching as they absentmindedly dance along Robert’s arm. It is not intended to be a flirtatious move, as it is a mannerism that you often do when you are excited about what you are talking about. But it is an action that Arthur resents all the same right now.
You try your best to involve Arthur in the conversation but to be frank, you are discussing people and places that he has no frame of reference for. The only thing that does pique his interest is the way Robert keeps referring to you. That certainly has Arthur's attention. But he has to be careful. He can see how happy you are and doesn't want his temper to burst your little bubble. However, if he had his way, he would be grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the closest hotel to make you forget your own name, let alone another man's.
Arthur hates that you have this “other language” and bond with someone who is not only outside the gang, but outside his class altogether. He’d forgotten where you came from and what you’d given up to be with the Van Der Linde gang and him along with it. And this conversation with this ghost of your past only confirms it. Arthur tries not to glare at Robert as he takes in the man’s fine clothing and clean hands that have probably never seen a day of labor in his life.
The whole thing is a harsh reminder that Arthur may not only be holding you back in life but actually pushing you down.
“So,” Robert finally turns his attention away from you, ”What do you do for a living, Art?” Robert asks innocently.
The very sound of Robert’s voice makes Arthur bristle. “The name…is Arthur,” he grits out. “And it’s none of your damn business what I do.” At this point, Arthur wants nothing more than to plant his massive fist in this pompous fool’s face.
You instantly pick up on Arthur’s annoyance. You can see his steel blue eyes set hard as his fist clenches around the glass in his hand. Arthur’s head tilts slightly to the side as he watches Robert, and you know from experience that he is measuring the man up. Robert is only being nice, ever the extravert, but he has no idea what sort of man is sitting across from him.
“Easy now, Arthur,” you chuckle nervously as you pat his burly forearm. “Robert is only asking out of curiosity.” Arthur shoots you a look that you can’t quite place. “Arthur does a little bit of everything,” you quickly answer Robert to avoid further awkwardness. “He’s done bounty work, loan collecting, things like that.”
“Interesting,” muses Robert.
“Well, I’d rather be an honest sinner than a lying hypocrite,” asserts Arthur as he levels his gaze across the table at Robert.
“I assume you work with horses quite a bit, too, then?” Robert pushes as his eyes roam up and down over Arthur.
“I do.”
“Figured as much. You seem pretty ‘rough and rugged’ like the cowboys we read about back in the city.” Arthur’s eyebrows knit as his mouth turns into a slight frown. “Oh, I don’t mean anything by it, friend! You look fantastic!” Robert insists. “In fact, I couldn’t be happier for Y/N. Looks like she’s got herself a real man. Those sniveling, uppity simpletons back home were never her type.”
“And I assume you are?” Arthur asks. This causes you to look at him questioningly.
“Me? Oh, no. We were never like that.” Robert waves the comment off, not reading the underlying meaning of Arthur’s question.
“He’s right. Being married to Robert would be like being married to a puppy,” you joke, trying to lighten the ominous mood that Robert is thankfully oblivious to.
“True. But, you have to admit, we would have made quite the pair, wouldn’t we?” Robert leans over and nudges you in the side with that wide smile of his again.
Arthur roughly grabs his glass of whiskey and throws it back, the bitter liquor hitting his throat, before he slams the glass down onto the table.
“What are you gettin’ at, there, Robert? Hmm? You think Y/N would be better off with you than me? Is that it?” The icy stare that Arthur throws at Robert is cold enough to frost the windows of the room. His chiseled jaw sets tightly, his body tense as if about to explode. Your stomach drops as you realize that Robert has indeed crossed a line with Arthur, whether he has intended to or not. And you find yourself at an impasse: do you stand by your man, or do you defend your oldest and dearest friend?
Finally, seeing that Arthur is not amused by his antics, Robert takes the hint and clears his throat nervously. “Well, it has been so wonderful to catch up with you, Y/N!” He stands up from the table and adjusts his vest, running his hand over his hair to make sure everything is still in its place. You and Arthur stand as well in anticipation of the farewell. You are reluctant to say goodbye to your friend, and Arthur is anxious to leave.
The three of you silently file out of the little restaurant together and onto the busy sidewalk.
“I truly hope we can do this again sometime soon, Y/N. Maybe if I swing through these parts again, I’ll reach out.” Robert says hopefully.
“I’d like that, Robert. Please do.” You affectionately place your hand on his arm. “I’ve missed you quite a bit since I’ve been out here.” You give each other a tight hug, one that lasts a bit longer than Arthur’s liking. But then again, Arthur doesn’t like anyone touching you for any reason.
“Arthur, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Robert smiles and sticks his arm out to shake Arthur’s hand again, which he reluctantly does. Arthur’s large hand dwarfs Robert’s as it clamps down extra hard. “Take good care of our girl, yes?”
“Sure,” Arthur deadpans. “Our girl.”
Robert gives you both an awkward smile and turns to head back down the street towards the train depot. Your eyes follow him as your chest feels heavy at having to say goodbye to a part of your past.
When you turn back to Arthur to thank him for his patience, you are met with his hard face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he snaps.
Sighing in exasperation, you cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t give me that.” You knew this argument was coming.
“Just that you seem awfully close with that Robert fella.” The contempt in Arthur’s voice is not lost on you.
“Well, yeah, he’s my best friend.”
Arthur’s jaw clenches just a bit more at your answer. “Uh-huh.”
Your head tilts slightly to the side, eyes narrowing as you study him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Like I said, you two seem awfully close.” His voice drops low and slow, almost spitting out the words like a spoiled piece of meat.
“That’s because we are. He was the only true friend I had, Arthur.” You shuffle your weight from hip to hip, becoming increasingly uncomfortable under Arthur’s scrutiny. You suddenly feel like one of his marks.
“Uh-huh.” Arthur’s simple responses quickly escalates your annoyance as you watch him pull a cigarette out of his pocket, striking the match on the nearby building with enough force that the wooden stick almost snaps between his fingertips.
“Oh my God, are you jealous?” you ask, disturbed at the turn in the conversation.
“Nope.” Dipping his head down, his eyes are hidden by his dusty, worn hat as his fingers bring the cigarette back up to his lips.
“No?”
“Alright, maybe I am,” he suddenly spins on you, face turning crimson. “Maybe I don’t like how excited you get to see another man. Maybe I don’t like you all laughing and smiling at someone else.”
Your heart begins to pound in your ears, taken aback by his surge of anger. “Arthur-”
“Don’t!” he barks at you. “Just…don’t! I can’t compete with that, and you know it!” He points his finger accusingly at you.
“Arthur, I'm not asking you to compete with anyone! In fact, there’s a reason why I left all that behind.” You step towards him, arms raised to embrace him, but he blocks your hands with his own.
“Save it!” And he storms off, leaving you standing there on the sidewalk. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, leaving you queasy. A storm of guilt, frustration, and yes even anger, rages inside your chest. You wrap your arms around yourself as you try to make sense of what just happened.
“Damn it, Arthur,” you mutter.
—---------------------------------------------------
Rather than chase after him, you decide to leave Arthur be and give him time to cool off. There’s no talking to him when he gets like this, as it usually escalates into a fight if you push it. You feel awful for making him feel bad, as you are well aware of how self-conscious he is. But then again, what about your feelings? You have every right to visit with an old friend and a dear one at that. Yes, you know how it looks. You and Robert always did have a special bond that bordered on the flirtatious side. But you love Arthur. And he knows that. You love him with a depth that could swallow the stars. And you are getting tired of having to constantly prove that to him.
After an hour of wandering the local shops to stall for time, you decide to find Arthur, knowing exactly where you’ll find him. Your boot heels click along the worn floorboard of the porch outside of the saloon. You can hear the chatter and piano music coming from inside. You look through the window, eyes searching for your target. Between the small sea of dusty hats and hulking shoulders, you catch sight of that familiar form that you seek.
Walking into the building, your hands roll over each other, fingers intertwining, as you take a shaky breath when you approach Arthur at the bar. You glide onto the stool beside him, fidgeting slightly to get comfortable. He sits quietly, still brooding with a menacing vibe radiating off of him. You motion to the bartender, who walks over when he catches your eye. “What’ll it be, Miss?”
“A beer, please.”
“Comin’ right up”. It only takes a minute for him to grab a bottle and set it next to the coin you’ve already placed for him. His thick, ready fingers pick it up off the bar top with a pleasant nod of approval as he sets about his previous task.
You spin the bottle between your fingertips, looking at Arthur from the corner of your eye. “So, are we going to talk about this?”
He continues to sulk quietly, lifting a shot of whiskey to his lips and downing it in one. His jaw clenches at the sting of the cheap liquor, but he promptly pours another shot into the diminutive glass, the bottle half empty at this point.
“Alright, fine.” You take a swig of your beer.
“Where’s your ‘friend’?” Arthur grunts without even looking at you.
“Robert is about to get on a train.”
“Mmhmm”.
“Arthur-”
“Alright, look, I’m sorry,” he interupts, slicing his hand through the air as if to end the argument right here. “Please don’t make a big deal outta this.”
“What were you worried about? That I’d run off with Robert?”
“Wouldn’t you?” he blurts out bitterly.
“You can’t be serious?” Your face twists up in shock. He only answers you with a snort of derision. “Arthur, I was excited to see an old friend. That’s all,” you stress emphatically. “You have to remember, I am surrounded by your people, your family, all of the time. This is the first time I’ve seen someone from my previous life.” Your tone unwittingly begins to take on one of annoyance as you try to plead your case. But it is an argument that is falling on deaf and angry ears.
“I’m sorry, I thought the gang was ‘your people’, too,” he bites back. Arthur can be a reasonable man until he is provoked, and then reason doesn’t factor in at all.
“Well, they are,” you backpedal sheepishly at his harshness. Your gaze falters to land on the bottle in your hands before attempting to meet Arthur’s again. “But you know what I mean. You can’t be angry because I was happy to see someone from my life that, heaven forbid, didn’t involve the Van der Linde gang.”
Artur just pouts in silence. You are getting really irritated at this point, but trying to remain calm and not cause a scene.
“So you’d just let me run away with Robert rather than talk to me and ask me to stay with you? Is that it?” you huff.
“Couldn't help but notice how excited you were to hear about everything back home. Almost like you miss it. Pretty damn clear after your little visit today that you don’t even belong here. Maybe you should.” And another shot gets poured into the glass.
Damn it, and there it is. The thing that always seems to be present in your relationship: the idea that you still don’t belong, even after all this time and everything that you’ve done. Arthur still doesn’t see you as “one of them”. And it is a sting that doesn’t sit well with you at all.
Your eyes begin to well up as you try to fight the lump forming in your throat. ”I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Your lips tremble slightly with emotion, a mix of betrayal and anger swirling and bubbling up inside you like one of Pearson’s stews.
The very insinuation is hurtful to you. You have turned your life upside down for the gang and for him. And yet, it seems it will never be enough. It’s as if you are being punished for having a decent life before you were thrust into this new one. You didn’t fit into society back east, and it seems you still don’t fit here either.
“Stop with the theatrics. I ain’t in a mood for it.” Arthur slings back another shot of whiskey.
“You really are an ass sometimes, Arthur,” you stammer in disappointment.
He immediately slams his shot glass down on the bar, shattering it. The action startles you, your eyes shooting wide open. Arthur finally turns to face you now, his eyes burning into you so intensely that it causes you to cringe. You know damn well that you’re not perfect. But, it always made you feel special that Arthur seemed to think so. But the look he’s giving you right now is plain enough for you to know that he no longer believes it.
And the wounded expression on your face enrages Arthur even more. The sight of you cowering like a lamb to slaughter because of his anger is too much. He’s furious at the everything right now: you, Robert, this town, and more importantly, himself. He grabs the whiskey bottle on the counter and whips it at the wall, sending shards of glass flying into the thick smokey air to rain down onto the immediate vicinity.
With your breath shaking, you slowly stand and back away from him. For the first time ever…you are afraid of him.
The tumultuous noise alerts the bartender, who promptly yells at Arthur. “Hey, watch it! You gotta problem, you take it outside! Don’t be causing a ruckus around here!” He shoves his thick, meaty finger towards the doors.
“Mind your own goddamn business ‘fore I give you a problem!” Arthur shouts back, now standing as well, leveling his gaze at the bartender.
With Arthur distracted by the barkeep, you turn and push your way through the now-curious crowd and make a dash for the door.
Your feet clumsily carry you down the steps as you sprint into the street, eyes watering and hands trembling from anger.
“Hey! Hey! (Y/N)!” It doesn’t take long before you hear Arthur’s gravelly voice hollering down the street for you.
“Leave me alone, Arthur!” you shout over your shoulder, not even bothering to turn around. Tears of anger are dangerously close to flowing as you walk even faster, your arms pumping back and forth to propel you further down the road. But Arthur is quick to catch up to you with his long strides.
“Where you goin’?” You can hear him quickly stalking up behind you, his spurs jingling heavily in the dirt of the street.
“Doesn’t matter, right? I don’t belong here, remember?” You throw his words back into his face with such a biting tone. “Maybe I’ll see if there’s a seat next to Robert on the damn train!”
“Like hell you will!” Arthur yanks on your arm, his grip painful like a vice, spinning you around.
But before you can even think clearly, your hand flies as if of its own accord, and you hear the sharp smack land across his cheek, cracking in the air before you feel the sting against your delicate hand. Arthur’s head snaps to the side from the strike, his eyes twisted shut from the impact.
Gasping, your eyes shoot open in shock as your hands immediately cover your mouth. You stand there, silent and trembling. Your chest heaves with broken breathing and choked sobs as you take a few steps back from him. You hate him so much right now. Not because of what he’s said, although that is bad enough, but because he has pushed you to this point. You never, ever want to hurt him. Arthur is dearer to you than life itself. You had never imagined raising a hand or weapon to the man you so desperately love, and yet, he has pushed you, backed you into a corner, to do so.
“Oh…I’m sorry,” you utter, the sound barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.” Your eyes are glossy with unshed tears as your unwavering gaze never leaves his face, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. As you blink rapidly, a tear finally escapes your lower lash to cascade and roll over your hot cheek.
Arthur freezes before his gaze slowly turns back to you. But what he sees shocks him. The very sight of you in your heightened state almost breaks his heart in two. Shame coats his insides as he realizes his jealousy has gotten the best of him. And the pain and fear in your eyes is worse than any bullet to the gut, rocking him to his very core.
Arthur’s expression journeys from one of rage to shock to one of absolute remorse. He says nothing, which begins to terrify you even more. Arthur is known for his temper, even taking his frustrations out on you when needed. You pride yourself on the notion that Arthur may be difficult to handle but never for you. You have always been able to read him, to know his mind better than himself, which is why he relies on you so greatly. You set his world to right when it goes off-kilter. But now, you feel a great divide between you. You stare at him with no idea of what will happen next.
Arthur’s strong arms extend out towards you as a silent apology. But instead of falling into them, you shrink back from him. He halts immediately, turning his palms up in surrender. But slowly, he steps a bit closer to you. Arthur reaches out again, wrapping his hands carefully around your biceps. He can feel you tremble slightly under his fingertips.
Regret sits heavily upon his brow. You can see the self-reproach embedded into his eyes as he stares into yours, searching for forgiveness that he prays you’ll grant him.
Your eyes leave his face, a silent understanding settling between you as you focus on the buttons of his shirt, watching as his chest rises and falls with his calming breath.
With a deep sigh, he silently escorts you into the privacy of the immediate alley, gently pushing you back against the siding of the post office.
“You’re mine.” Arthur does not say this out of anger or possession. Nor has he faltered into a blubbering mess. He simply utters the statement as pure fact, no question.
“Am I?” you stammer. Your eyes lift to search his, looking for any doubt that may still linger.
“You sure as shit are.” Arthur’s voice is low but carries the loving undertone you always take refuge in as the slightest hint of a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“Really? Ten minutes ago, you were ready to let me walk out that door. Told me that I shouldn’t be here.”
Arthur pulls his lips inward at the dismay in your quaking voice. “I shouldn’t ‘ve said that. That was me being a goddamn idiot. But, it is true, ya know. You don’t belong in that gang, Y/N. I keep tellin' ya you’re too good for it. You deserve the finer things in life, things like Robert can give ya.”
Your shoulders fall with a painful sigh as your eyes gently drift shut again. You are so tired of having this same conversation over and over again.
“But,” he continues, “I do want you there. I want you with me. I need you, Y/N. We need you. It’s selfish, I know.” His chin bobs slightly in acknowledgement. “God forgive me, but we do.”
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Arthur. I want to belong somewhere. And to someone.” You look at Arthur with an almost desperate expression on your face. Your whole life, you’ve been floating like a leaf in the wind, bobbing about with no particular place to land. You thought you had finally found your place, your home, with the Van Der Linde gang, no matter how unlikely it seemed. And when Arthur threw it back in your face, it was like being pushed off a cliff to free-fall backwards with no one to catch you.
He lifts his rough hand to cup your face, his thumb ghosting over your cheek. “I won’t ever let you go, Y/N. Not ever. Not even if someone else comes along.” Your eyes begin to flutter again as the feeling of his skin on yours reassures you. You wrap your own hands around his wrist, holding his hand in place as you lean your face into his warm palm.
“Arthur, I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. The way you make me feel when I look at you is why I could never look at another.” Your eyes sparkle brightly in earnest, the last of your tears rimmed along your lashes.
He only hesitates a moment before he pulls you close to him. He secures you safely against him where you belong, your chest pressed up against his as powerful arms coil around you to lock you in. Arthur lowers his face to nudge your nose with his before planting his lips to kiss you slow and deep, taking your breath away.
When his lips separate from yours, Arthur briefly rests his forehead on yours before pulling back to look into your face once more. His eyes are intense and reflect a deeper shade of blue than you’ve ever seen. A wolfish grin begins to emerge under that peppered beard stubble as his finger tucks a rogue strand of hair behind your ear.
“Like I said, Y/N, you…are…mine.”
#arthur morgan#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan rdr2#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x female reader#rdr2 fanfic
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Domesticated!König Headcanons: Meeting the future In-Laws ✨
Image: @Skavod29 on Twitter (Source)
I was floored by how much attention my first headcanon post got. Y'all had me fucking emotional and I am so happy it's something people actually like. It keeps me coming back to post more of my silly little ideas. Forever grateful for your support! ❤️
I also need to reiterate that my blog/posts are 18+ so MDNI, this one has some NSFW bonus HCS 💋
If you missed the first one, here :) StepDad!Konig is here!
I got other stuff! Masterlist pinned on my blog
When you decided it was time for your parents and König to meet, you were tempted to slip a Xanax into his morning coffee. It is not like he hasn’t said a polite hello and a few words over the phone or when you facetime them, but now he was finally meeting them in person. You’ve seen him more calm talking to two- and three-star generals than this, the kinds of things that rattled your nerves.
You swore he changed attire more times than you did. The sight of him re-rolling his sleeves on his button up shirt made you intervene before he undid them all over again. He paused when your hands held his, then flicked his azure eyes up to you. “They’re gonna love you, my king.” Your gentle smile and comforting words got through to him.
They welcomed you and the mystery man with open arms at their front door. Mom never knew how to keep her thoughts to herself, but she really did mean well. Of course, the first thing they all notice is how König has to duck under their doorway to come inside. “You weren’t lying when you said he was tall,” mom said. You gave her a warning look followed up with an apologetic smile to König. He managed to chuckle it off, it was nothing new for him. It did make him curious about what else you’ve said to your mom about the two of you.
You gave König a tour of your childhood home, nearly having to pry him from the wall of photos of you and your family. He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face of the little timeline displayed in pretty frames; your first elementary school photo, a photo of you in a boy/girl scouts uniform, another of you during extra-curricular activities (band/orchestra, JROTC, sports, theater, robotics team, etc.), a prom photo with you and old friends, and lastly your high school graduation picture. König wanted a copy of one of them to keep in his wallet, mom promised to get him one behind your back.
König's field day got better when you showed him your childhood bedroom. Depending on how you last had it decorated, you were either low key bashful or regretting even showing him. It was like traveling back in time for him, giving him a glimpse of the kid and teen, you used to be. A chance to fall in love with every facet of you.
He was getting more comfortable when he found out your dad wasn’t out to get him as much as he thought. They ended up sitting in the living room, talking about a topic after your dad played twenty questions to figure him out. Something either about guns, hunting, hiking, fishing, blue-collar work, and if your dad is a veteran, they got along faster than you could imagine. You and mom caught up in the kitchen as you helped her finish up with cooking and setting the table.
If you have siblings, they showed up in the nick of time before dinner, to share embarrassing stories of you when you were a kid, or the stories you all waited to tell when you all were adults to avoid from getting in trouble. König watched and listened as you got more animated with laughter. Loving every second of this. He had a handful of memories he could count on his hand that were of happier times, but your memories became his favorite ones.
Everyone pestered the two of you for the story of how you met. And since you’ve been doing most of the talking, you looked to König to tell the tale. Your eyes never left him as he started the story from his point of view, recollecting the moment he saw you and how he was trying to come up with an excuse to try and talk to you. It donned on you that this was the first time you were hearing the way he saw you. “And now we’re here,” he concluded, looking over to you with a grin and a touch to your hand underneath the table.
NSFW Bonus:
König couldn’t stop thinking about taking you in your childhood room, nearly fantasizing what it would’ve been like if the two of you met as teens/younger adults. Indulging in the idea of sneaking into your bedroom window or standing outside with a boombox in 80s/90s style fashion.
Of course, your parents offered you to stay with them, not wanting you to have to rent a hotel room or travel back (depending on how far away you lived from them), so the later the night got, the more distracted König became with fulfilling his dirty thoughts.
It was just like the old days, having you home and hearing the music coming from your speakers when someone passed by the doorway. You were just showing König your CD collection, right?
It definitely wasn’t because you were trying to muffle your moans and screams as he pounded you into that fucking mattress. Making you a drooling and brainless mess under his rutting hips. He kept praising you for taking him so well and for being so quiet like the good little fuck thing you were, making it harder not to cum so fast. Secretly, this was your fantasy too, and you wanted it to last a little longer than the 10 minutes of foreplay and fucking you had already endured.
Likes & reblogs are always appreciated! Stay tuned for more to this unexpected series! Asks are opened for requests & ideas for others.
#konig#konig mw2#konig cod#konig call of duty#konig x reader#konig x y/n#gn y/n#gn reader#headcanon#konig x you#konig headcanons#call of duty#call of duty mw 2
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Love After War
PAIRING: Female Reader x FATWS! Bucky Barnes
SUMMARY: The mind has a way of playing tricks on you, images you thought to be real are just a figment of your past. But how to get back to the present?
WARNINGS: Angst, nightmares, PTSD, panic attack, cannon-level violence, torture, smidgen of fluff at the end
Word Count: 1239
A/N: soooooo this was supposed to be the start of my Febuwhump challenge but with the way my life is going right now I won't be able to finish all the prompts by the end of the month, BUT I will post the ones I have done, and I will keep working on some prompts as well but don't expect them to be in order at all.
Prompt: Helpless
Enjoy! <3
Divider by Rookthorne
The first thing Bucky realized as he came to was how incredibly cold he was. A shiver wracked his body, causing him to try and pull the flimsy material covering him closer to his skin as water poured down on him. Wait- water? He looked to find the source and realized he was in a shower. The cold water turned red as it ran across his body from all the blood there. Was it his or someone else's? Bucky couldn’t tell.
“SOLDAT.” A voice boomed from behind, causing him to flinch aggressively. He knew that voice, it was one of his handlers, and by the sound of the rapidly approaching footsteps, he wasn’t happy.
“Poydem s nami, soldat. Dok khochet tebya videt'” The voice growled and Bucky froze.
His frazzled mind still trying to work out where he was and what was going on. His hesitance must have been seen as resistance because the next thing he knew, a rifle butt was flying towards him.
Confused, Bucky blocked it with his arm, the clash of metal reverberated around the room causing more handlers to pour in, each one with a gun all pointing in the same direction. His pulse was starting to quicken, and every muscle in his body tensed.
He was so focused on what was going on in front of him that he didn’t notice the guard coming up behind him with a stun baton. The guard struck, causing Bucky to fall to his knees as he hissed in pain, the electric shock causing his arm to fall limp at his side he clutched the useless appendage in his right hand as he looked on in terror as they all started moving in on him. Two of the guards grabbed him and began to drag him out of the room. He knew where they were taking him and as those rusted double doors came into view he began thrashing as wildly as he could to get away but it was no use.
“Bucky?”
They flung open the doors, his senses on hyperdrive as the blinding lights of the room burned his eyes. Noise. There was so much noise, nurses scrambling around, guards shouting, and doctors preparing for whatever horrible things they had planned for him that day.
“Bucky!”
He tried to fight against them as they strapped him into the chair, but it was no use, he felt utterly helpless as they began tying him down. His metal arm, although useless, was cuffed in 4 different steel brackets to keep him from moving, the rest of his body bolted into place as the panels of the machine began to lower over his face and just as they were about to connect to his skin-
“JAMES!”
He sucked in a large breath bolting upright in bed and scrambling far away from where he was until he managed to situate himself in the corner of the room. His chest, slick with sweat heaved up and down as he tried to get oxygen to fill his lungs, but his heart was beating too fast for him to do anything but hyperventilate. There was a quiet sound from the other side of the room that made him realize he wasn’t alone, and he let out a whimper as their footsteps got closer, curling in on himself to appear as small as possible.
“Bucky?” This voice was soft and full of concern, a complete contrast to the voice he heard just moments ago. This intrigued him slightly, but not enough to make him uncurl himself to see who was speaking to him. There was a sigh from the other person and the floorboards squeaked as they moved their entire weight to the floor, sitting on the ground near him.
“Bucky? It’s me, baby.” The voice cooed gently, and with the next breath he took, the familiar smell of cedar and lavender invaded his senses. He peaked his head out from behind his knees and saw Y/n sitting on the floor looking at him with concern coloring her features and sorrow clouding her eyes. She noticed the small movement and smiled gently as her eyes caught his.
“There he is. Hello, my love.” She whispered, a gentle smile decorating her face. Bucky blinked owlishly at her, still not realizing who he was looking at, but still Y/n smiled.
Progress she thought before she started speaking again, “It’s just me, love. You are safe. We are in our bedroom, in our apartment, no one is going to hurt you.”
This made him cock his head to the side before looking around the room. There was no one else besides the two of them. Instead of the gurneys, there was a dresser. Instead of blood-stained floors, there was a soft, grey plush carpet. Instead of that chair, there was a bed, and her. Bucky took a deep breath, finally able to fill his lungs and when he did, his body began to shake. He would shake violently for a moment before his muscles would give out and relax before contracting all over again. Y/n watched him carefully and scooted a little closer.
“Can I sit next to you?” It was a simple question, and it might seem trivial to ask someone you were just sleeping next to if you could be in their space but it was important for Bucky to feel in control of his situation, if he was in control, he was no longer there. Bucky looked at her and gave a small nod and Y/n moved to sit next to him, her back plastered against the wall. Although she wasn’t touching him, Bucky could feel the warmth radiation from her body, another piece of proof that he wasn’t in the basement of a bunker in the Siberian mountains. The pair sat in silence for a moment, Y/n watching Bucky, and Bucky staring straight ahead at the wall. Y/n shifted, causing Bucky's eyes to leave the spot on the wall and look at her.
“Can I touch you?” She asked softly. Buckys hesitated for a moment, before nodding again. Y/n scootched closer to Bucky so that their bodies were pressed against each other and she reached over with a hand and ran her fingers through his shortened chestnut locks. That simple action seemed to bring new life back to Bucky and he began to uncurl, leaning into her touch. Y/n began humming a soft melody as she continued to massage Bucky’s scalp. His tremors became less and less until they were all but gone.
After some more time passed, Bucky wasn’t sure how much, Y/n stopped and gently stood up, offering her hand to him.
“‘C'mon love, let’s get back in bed. Your back isn’t going to thank you if I let you sleep in the corner.”
Bucky placed his hand in hers and allowed her to lead him back to bed. Y/n folded back the covers in a more orderly fashion before sliding under the soft grey sheets, motioning for Bucky to do the same. He did so, snuggling back into Y/n’s side listening to her steady heartbeat, reassuring him that he was safe. She began humming that soft melody again. Feeling warm and safe, his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a dreamless sleep. The last thing he remembered was the whisper of an “I love you,” in his ear.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes#bucky fluff#bucky x female reader#bucky angst#bucky barnes x you#whump#fatws bucky x reader
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sibling honor
(image description under the cut due to length. pardon for that!)
A comic of humanized Hollow Knight characters, all in black and white except for a dash of red with a single source.
The swish of a bright red dress around scampering legs, quiet giggles, the cheeky grin on a little face: down an arcade of gothic arches runs a young princess Hornet, dressed in her best royal finery, her hair all done up under a double-horned hennin. She passes by statues of knights between each arch, with flowered branches growing up from their long, jamb-like carved forms. She smiles wider, elated to have gotten away with mischief, as she passes by a knight statue not between two arches but in one. She runs, then--
YANK! She's pulled up by the back of her cloak like a kitten by the scruff of her neck. "HEY!" She shouts. "Who--"
She pauses, eyes wide. Her voice dies down. Plucking her up from the ground, leaning over out of the arch with a stony look on their face, is the knight under the arch. Loose chunks of their hair flow over their chestplate. They are not, in fact, a statue.
Hornet flails and scrabbles in the air. "LET GO! I'LL BITE!" She shrieks.
The knight looks at her. Without a change in expression, they began turning and walking.
Hornet startles badly at that, falling practically limp. "Wait no--" she pleads, hands on her cheeks. "Don't take me back to the retainers, please, please, please!" She looks up at them pleadingly. "They'll be so mad, then mother will be so mad, and-- wait a second--"
She properly looks at them as they hold her in the air. She recognizes that long face, too pale to be properly human, or half-spider like her. She recognizes that horned helmet with the three spikes on each horn.
"I... I know you," she says slowly.
The epiphany comes to her and she leaps out of the knight's hand and leaps onto their shoulder, supporting herself with one pair of hands and clasping at the knight's cheeks with the other. "YEAH! I DO!" She cries, elated. "YOU'RE THE HOLLOW KNIGHT!"
She beams at them. "And that means we're siblings!"
The Hollow Knight returns her look with that same blank stony visage.
She gestures flippantly, her smile chilling out. "And--" she declares-- "that means you can't tell on me. Sibling honor, y'know."The Hollow Knight looks at her for a long moment. Lifts her by the underside of her arms off of their shoulder.
"Well?" She asks. They keep looking. Perhaps they would have been deliberating, if they were not a hollow vessel.
Far down at the end of the arcade, voices can clearly be heard coming from outside, the double doors wide open.
Everything rushes to the Hollow Knight at once. With a quick and lashing whip of their cloak, they drop Hornet and conceal her. "HEY!" She cries indignantly as they do so. "WHAT?!"
Two retainers, donned in find garb, walk down the hallway, talking about this and that. As they approach the Hollow Knight, standing still and straight and silent by the wall, they both slow.
"Ah, knight," says one retainer, looking up at them with a haughty expression. "Have you... by any chance... seen Hornet, daughter of Herrah, pass down this hall?" They ask with a pleasantly average smile, as if they are glad the Hollow Knight cannot ask why they do not know where she is.
It takes the Hollow Knight a moment to move. Slowly one hand leaves the hilt of their sword, making their cloak furl and swish, revealing a gloved forearm and a segmented elbow. They point further down the hall.
The retainer smiles, while the second one behind them has been sending the Hollow Knight a sour look. "Ah, I see," the retainer says. "Thank you."
The two depart quickly further down the arcade of flowers and statues until their statures are small, continuing to chatter all the while. The Hollow Knight watches them as they go.
They slip a hand down to give a thumbs up to Hornet, who is hiding most sneakily at the back of the Hollow Knight's cloak. She holds onto their cloak and gives a delighted and mischievous smile.
#hollow knight#hk gijinka#hornet#the hollow knight#newt art#newt comics#AUGHGHG i did this in like the middle of the night bc thats when i got the idea and motivation lmao#no regrets but still
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lacerated to the bone
ft. danny johnson as ghostface x fem!reader
cw: 18+ content, dark content, masked men, stalking, photography, heavy dub-con, knife play, coercion, choking, blood, threats, predator/prey play, fear play, major character death, p in v, creampie
a/n: requested by anon! hope it lives up to the idea you had, bcs i had so much fun writing this one !! title from 'a life less ordinary(need a little help)' by motion city soundtrack
word count: 2.1k words
“Come on… come on.” You say under your breath as you work at the generator, your heart rabbiting in your chest. You're looking over your shoulder every few seconds, trying to make sure that the killer isn't on your trail. You did your best to save the others from the entity, but you'd failed. You were all alone now. You had to survive.
You can't shake the feeling that he's watching you. There's an eerie silence around you, the only sounds coming from the generator you're working on. The final one. You let out a deep breath as you look away again, but your fingers falter, and the sounds of the generator failing echo throughout the forest.
“No, no, no…” You say quickly, perking up to examine your surroundings, hoping that you hadn't alerted the killer. You curl up behind the generator, waiting for a few moments as you try to listen out for any movement. The minutes that stretch by feel like hours, but there's no sign of him.
You let out a deep breath, standing up before you lean over to work on the generator again. Before you can get started, you feel a finger tap your shoulder. You turn around quickly, coming face to face with a camera. You hear the click of the shutter, and then a bright light flashes that ends up blinding you for a few seconds.
You blink rapidly to clear the spots from your vision, stumbling back. You knew who it was. It could only be one person. You needed to get out of here, and fast. When your vision finally refocuses, you're left face to face with Ghostface. The mask tilts to the side as he cocks his head, his voice husky and slightly crackly from the vocal modulator as he speaks.
“Boo.”
You're running before your brain can even register the movement. You do your best to escape, weaving through dilapidated structures to try and lose him. At every chance you got, you sent wooden palettes tumbling in narrow spaces, keeping a mental note of where you'd cut off the path, hoping to slow him down.
At this point, the chase had become a matter of stamina rather than technique. It was clear the killer wasn't going to let you go, barely letting you out of his sight for more than a few seconds before he was on your tail again. You knew better than to hide, but you were running out of options. Your breathing was becoming laboured, and your legs burned from the chase. You knew you didn't have much of a chance - he was stronger, faster and smarter than you.
It was all down to luck. Your eyes flick over the treeline rapidly - it's a bit far out from the generators and the exit, but it was your best chance of staying concealed. The feeling of being watched irks you once again, causing you to stop and try to find the source.
It's quiet. Too quiet. All you can hear is the sounds of your own breathing. For a moment, you almost feel like you've lost him. That is until you hear a sound that's becoming far too familiar for your liking.
Click!
You turn to try and run again, but a gloved hand wraps around your ankle, yanking you into the underbrush. You cry out as the branches scratch the skin that's exposed as he drags you towards him.
“An image is worth a thousand words, don't you think?” A voice echoes from behind the mask, his free hand shifting to press down on your chest to keep you flat on the ground as he pins your legs down with his knees. With his other hand, he snaps a few pictures of your fearful expression with a beaten down looking film camera.
“Can't wait to get these developed… add them to the collection.” He adds after a moment, placing it down carefully so he can reach for the knife he had tucked in his belt. “I think I like this look on you…”
“Please…” You croak out weakly, your voice wavering as he trails the tip of the blade down your cheek and along your jawbone. “Please, don't.”
“Oh? Already begging for your life?” He coos, patting the flat of the blade against your cheek a few times. He presses the tip of the knife against your cheek, placing just enough pressure to nick the skin. “You're in luck. See, I don't normally play with my designs, but…”
He slides the tip of the knife down your skin, applying pressure when it reaches the hollow of your throat. The mask tilts down, and you can almost sense the sick satisfaction from him as he watches your blood trickle out with every panicked breath you make.
“Well, you're different. I've been watching you for a while. I wanted this to be special; the kind of headlines that people don't forget.” He leans down slightly, and you can feel his gaze boring through you despite the mask obscuring his features.
“Anyway, look at me getting all sidetracked. You poor thing, you keep shaking. I hope that's not on account of me?” He mocks, holding the knife to your throat to keep you from making any attempts to escape. “My apologies. I've always been one for a good story. And you, my dear? I feel you'll be my best one yet. I have a… proposition for you.”
“Please, just stop. I won't say anything… I swear! Just let me go I… I was so close, please!” You sob, raising your hands to try and push him off of you, as if that'd do any good. You wriggle underneath him, ring to give yourself a chance to break free and escape his grasp.
“You see, I'd love to do that. Really, I would. There's just one small issue.” With that, he loosely nods his head towards one of the hooks not far from you. “See, I could let you go, but that wouldn't be in my best interests… now, if you want to make it worth my while…”
He trails off, dropping his head down so his mask is looming directly over your face. He presses the knife down harder, drawing blood as the sharp edge digs into the skin of your throat. “Either you give me what I want, or I'll gut you and offer you up to the Entity. It's simple, really.”
Your stomach sinks at his words. There's no mistaking his intentions. The mask is tilted towards you expectantly as the knife against your throat is replaced by his tight grip. He trails his blade down, hiking your skirt up with the tip of it.
You nod. What other choice did you have? It was this, or die. You couldn't die here. You won't.
“There we go. Good girl.” He says as he removes his grip on your throat to pat your cheek, slipping the knife in between the top of your thigh and the edge of your panties. You tense as he pulls the fabric taut with the blade until it splits. You shiver as the cold metal brushes right above your folds, sliding the fabric out of the way to expose you to his greedy eyes.
You squirm underneath him as he runs the flat of his blade downwards, trying not to jerk your hips as he brushes past your clit, a small whimper falling from your lips. He smacks the blade down a few times, landing spanks against your pussy until sticky strings of arousal connect you to his knife.
“Filthy little thing.” He hums, pulling his knife away to drag a gloved finger between your folds. “Making such a mess. To think, I was planning to wet my knife in a very different way.”
You watch with a mix of arousal and horror as he shucks off the cloak, exposing the black jeans and t-shirt he wore underneath. He keeps that mask on. Seems to enjoy the way you shiver whenever your eyes land on it. He manages to unbuckle his belt one-handed with little struggle, the clink of the metal echoing in the air for a few moments.
He drops the knife down to free his cock and hold it in his right hand. His left hand slides its way up your body, squeezing one of your tits before his hand trails higher, gripping your throat once more. Just to be safe. He smacks his tip against your clit a few times, clearly enjoying the way it has you jolting. Your cunt gushes as he ruts against your sensitive nub, drawing a moan from your lips.
He slides his cock down until the head catches your hole. With a grunt, he pushes forward, filling you to the brim. He throws his head back, his chest rising and falling visibly with his rapid breaths.
“Christ, doll. Didn't think you'd be this wet.” He hisses through gritted teeth. He drops his head forward again, watching your expression carefully through the mask. The tone of his voice sends heat pooling in your lower abdomen, air leaving you in a breathless sigh.
His thrusts are shallow and desperate. He barely pulls out before slamming back in, not wanting to leave the tight heat surrounding him longer than necessary. Each thrust brings a whimper from his lips. Hastily, he reaches a hand out to grab his camera, the one resting on your throat squeezing down just enough to have you gasping in a breath, your cunt clenching tighter around his cock.
“Oh!” He moans, his hand shaking as he snaps a few pictures of his cock sliding in and out of you, the length coated in a layer of clear slick. “God, that's so tight. You like it when I squeeze your throat, huh?”
His voice is hoarse as he speaks, slightly breathless. He tightens his grip on your throat a little more as he speeds up his thrusts, fucking into you with a more brutal pace, his cock bullying your cervix with every movement. Blood rushes to your head as he pounds the air out of you while leaving you unable to suck more air in due to him choking you. You start to get light headed, your vision growing spotty and blurry with unshed tears. As your eyelids begin to flutter, he lets go and you're quickly sucking in deep breaths, your chest heaving.
“Ah, sorry, darling.” He forces out, sounding absolutely wrecked. He drops the camera to hold your hips in both of his hands, pulling you back on his cock with enough force that you're sure you'd be littered in finger shaped bruises. His balls slap against your ass with every heavy movement.
“Oh, can't wait to get these pictures all done. Gonna build a whole shrine for you, dolly. Such a pretty thing.” He reaches down to pinch and tug at your clit before rubbing circles into it with his thumb. He's too rough, and you're already so sensitive. Your body twitches, whines spilling from your lips as you cum, back arching and dragging along the dirt as you clench around his cock.
“W-wait… gotta… gotta get a picture, fuck.” He croaks, flipping you over onto your stomach. He grabs your hair in one fist, yanking your head back painfully as he sinks his cock back into you, making you cry out. He snaps a couple of pictures of him buried deep inside of you, aiming the camera mostly at your fucked out, tear-stained face.
“Fuck… fuck. Coming…” He manages to choke out, the sensation of your walls squeezing him enough to milk his cock. He drops his head down to the crook of your neck, the material of the mask jarring your heated skin. “Shit.”
He drops the camera again, his hand fumbling with something in the thick brush. In the corner of your eye, you see a glint of metal in the moonlight, causing you to flail in panic, scratching at the ground and trying to fight him off.
“You promised!” You yell, trying to scramble out from underneath him as you realise what he’s about to do. “You said you'd let me go! Please… I did what you asked!”
Your eyes widen with fear - wet and panicked as he lifts the knife up, plunging it deep into the side of your neck. Blood bubbles up in your throat, making you cough and splutter as the excruciating pain shocks your core.
“Sorry, doll. Honest. I know I said I'd let you go, but, well…” He yanks the knife out, and your body convulses as you try desperately to suck breath into your failing lungs.
“A good story always needs a twist.”
#danny johnson#danny johnson x reader#danny johnson x you#jed olsen x reader#jed olsen#jed olsen x you#dbd smut#danny johnson smut#jed olsen smut#ghostface x reader#ghostface x you#ghostface x y/n#ghostface smut#tw dark content#dark content#dub con#dead by daylight#dead by daylight smut#dbd#dbd killer
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choose something cold... (tarot card reading)
"what do you need to know?"
image 1: it's cold. I mean, really cold. but your blood is warm, even if your fingers are blue. where's your soul?
image 2: a framed painting depicting a wintry landscape, complete with a log cabin, whose blue smoke trickles from its chimney and blends in with the world around it.
image 3: three ornate glasses, made of ice. are those cracks intentional? or just by virtue of its design?
image source
not everything may resonate with you, and that's ok! take what does & leave the rest. don't force it.
1.・。.・゜✭
there’s an opportunity being presented to you. it may be a celebration of some kind, or just something that has a lot of excitement surrounding it. what i’m getting most of all is that this may be a chance to find freedom. with the seven of swords reversed, maybe you’re the type of person to handle your problems on your own, “lone wolf” style. there’s a million reasons why someone might do this, but for you, you’re afraid or distrusting in others. when you opened up in the past, maybe it didn’t end up so well for you, and this has made you keep things mostly to yourself.
however, the four of wands reversed tells us that this lone wolf energy is blocking you from fully enjoying yourself. “freedom”, in this sense, is the freedom from yourself, or rather, your fear. in the original Rider-Waite-Smith deck, the seven of swords shows us a man with his arms full of swords, shirking off to his own devices. for you, these swords represent an unnecessary burden, being wary or even afraid of others to see your true colors/problems/ect.
opening yourself back up again is a task much easier said than done, i know. but the 6 of cups shows us what this looks like, once fully realized. when we talk about our problems and emotions, we’re able to release and/or deal with them more easily. i’ve definitely been in the position of worrying endlessly about something, just to finally open up to someone, and realize that the answer was sitting in front of me all along. the six of cups represents this as having a “clean conscience.” being, you’ve released yourself from carrying a burden all alone, and have found freedom– the four of wands.
finally, the king of cups reversed reminds you to have patience, and to be tolerant of others. not just one person can supply you with all the information or support you need.
(6 of cups, 7 of swords reversed, 4 of wands reversed, king of cups reversed)
2.・。.・゜✭
you’re in a period of transition, be that between attitudes or people. this change has you feeling down. maybe not emotionally destitute, but not in the best spot, either. as you wade through these waters, know that the queen of swords is by your side, and will lead you to better times.
the queen of swords is someone with a good head on her shoulders, and will always tell the truth. she is very forthright, and doesn’t do any under-the-table dealings. she holds herself to these standards because of her past experiences, and knows that an honest, open approach will best suit her motives. you may embody the queen of swords already, and if you do, great! if you don’t, that’s ok, too. but it’s time to start really leaning into that kind of energy. don’t conceal the truth– both to yourself and others–, and let yourself have a laugh every once in a while! the thing about being experienced is that you know not to take everything so seriously. the queen of swords can see the big picture, and knows that, even if right now is tough, later will be much better.
the place/person/vibe you’re coming from is represented by the knight of wands. i’m getting, cockiness– to the point where you/they were being presumptuous. this might also have had to do with someone being hot tempered, and restless, where they couldn’t handle being bored, so they’d decide to pick a fight. this energy is still here, but not necessarily causing harm just yet. what’s really impeding your path towards healing is the knight of cups.
the knight of cups reversed is in direct opposition with the queen of swords, in the sense that he allows his emotions to take control of him, rather than accurately assessing the truth of his situation. he may let his imagination become overactive, and begin believing things that aren’t true. where the queen of swords faces all her dealings head on, the knight of cups may shade the truth, dance around the issue, or simply hope someone else will deal with it. he may also tend to isolate himself from others, which only worsens his imagination into spurring up unrealistic scenarios and focusing too much on his own “failings.”
i’m thinking… you’re going to need to temper the knight of cups with the knight of wands. use that fiery, self confident energy to seek out the truth, rather than make assumptions. and, in turn, the knight of cups can help to deplete those feelings of restlessness through introspection. most importantly, keep your head level, and honor the truth above all.
(queen of swords, 6 of swords, knight of wands, knight of cups reversed)
3.・。.・゜✭
so… there’s a lot to unpack here, image 3! i’ll start with this, the energy of the queens of wands and of pentacles are important right now. the queen of wands seems to be especially important, urging you to work hard to maintain her optimism, confidence, and enthusiasm.
this situation will require you to be a sort of “soft” leader for others, where you can be looked to for inspiration. if you’re able to serve as a role model through keeping your head up even when the going gets tough, and to do so with strength and vigor, it will not only help you and your purposes, but will also inspire those around you to do the same.
the opportunity to embody this energy is not fully here yet, but once you hear the call, you’ll know it’s for you. strike the iron while it’s hot and give it your all! no time for dilly dallying.
in being a leader (even if you’re not completely cognizant of it) you will have to temper your generosity with what you know to be true. so, for example, if someone is late to a meeting one time, you may give them the benefit of the doubt. but if they’re continuously late, some changes need to be made. this can also apply to other situations, where you will need to decide between your loyalties and what’s true & just. you may have already experienced scenarios like this in the past, so it will help you to call back to those times for foresight. doing what is fair may be difficult in the moment, but will lead to the best outcome.
the queens come together here to guide you on your way. keep trying! you know that you’re resourceful, so don’t be afraid to try your hand at solving problems. it may also benefit you to remain down to earth during this time, and not to try to control what others think or say. at the end of the day, you are your own person, and what a wonderful person you are!
finally, we arrive at the page of cups. i’m getting a very loving, forgiving energy from this card. it may benefit you to invite that energy into your life, both towards yourself and others. when a challenge faces you, or someone is less than nice, decide to turn away that anger with love. consider, what may compel them to act this way? maybe they’re going through something you don’t know about. it’s not that you need to nurture them back to good health, but realize that maybe, they’re just not worth your time, and a simple nod & turning of the cheek will do you both some good. most of all, listen to your intuition to tell you whether or not this argument/situation is really worth getting into.
(queen of wands, 8 of pentacles reversed, 8 of wands reversed, queen of pentacles, ace of swords, 3 of wands reversed, page of cups)
#tarot#tarotblr#tarot reading#tarotcommunity#tarot cards#pick a card#pick a picture#pick a pile#pick an image#pac#spirituality#spiritual#witchblr
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Of bunk beds and confessions
summary: when there’s a new crew member on the Mantis, reader feels discouraged to confess to Cal.
relationship: Cal Kestis x GN reader
warnings: slight spoilers for Jedi Fallen Order, dw it has a happy ending uvu
word count: 2.8k
A/N: recently finished JFO (finally! lol) and i have A Lot Of Feelings so, here you go
prompt used: hesitant kisses, but when they part one whispers "do it again. please."(source, by @urfriendlywriter)
(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)
— — —
You’re waiting on the Mantis with Cere and Greez for Cal to get back with the Astrium. You’re currently on Dathomir, and you’re not entirely sure what he had to do to get the thing, but he comm’d you some minutes ago saying he’s on his way back to you.
You stand at the top of the ship’s ramp, trying to see if you can see him somewhere. You’ve been worried out of your mind when he would send you short and clipped messages, telling you he had to fight some mysterious but apparently very powerful traveller he met on this planet. The whole place gave you the creeps; with the Nightsisters gone and all, it just felt like a hollow, haunted memory of a civilization.
Despite everything being tinted red, from the rocky formations all the way up to the sky, your eyes catch a familiar flash of copper hair. Your head turns and you look out to Cal, who’s about to reach the ship. Only then do you finally allow yourself to breathe properly again.
The thought crosses your mind that, with how worried you are when Cal’s gone, not knowing if it’s the last time you’ll see him when you wish the Force to be by his side as he leaves for several hours, only to come back all beat up… Maybe you should finally tell him how you feel. It’s a selfish thought, but you’re not sure how much longer your heart can take this.
Turning back inside, you shake your head and try to calm the pounding against your ribcage. The important thing is that he’s back, he’s alive.
“Cal’s back!” you call to the rest of the crew, and everyone gathers around the dinner table just as Cal walks up the ramp to the Mantis.
“You found it!” Cere says when she sees the small, black item in Cal’s hand, who’s showcasing it.
Suddenly, there’s a flurry of green and black behind him as a person appears out of thin air.
“Whoa, who’s this?” Greez asks, pointing to the stranger.
As you take in her appearance, you kinda freeze: it’s a Nightsister. BD beeps excitedly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the pilot asks the droid, still unsure about her presence on his ship.
“It means I’ll be joining you,” she says, with an accent and with confidence. You look at Cal, hoping for him to intervene, but instead, he looks excited. Cal points to each of you, introducing you all by name to the newcomer.
“And this is Merrin,” Cal finishes, pointing to her.
“Wha–” Greez looks up at him just as shocked as you are. “She’s a witch, isn’t she?”
“A Nightsister,” Merrin corrects him. “Your fear is unnecessary.”
“I couldn’t have gotten the Astrium without her,” Cal explains. “We fought Malicos together. I trust her.”
Those words hit you like a bag of bricks. He trusts her. They fought together. She must be a skilled warrior, then. Meanwhile you’re just… you. And next to her, it doesn’t feel like enough.
“And we trust you,” Cere retorts with a smile directed at Cal, then turns serious as she looks at Merrin. “You will have to earn it.”
“Fine, grab some seat,” Greez mutters under his breath as he makes his way to the cockpit. “As long as she doesn’t do anything funny.”
“Welcome aboard,” Cere finally says to Merrin and follows Greez to the front of the ship.
Cal looks after them for a second, then turns to the new crew member.
“They like you,” he remarks, and looks at you as if waiting for you to add something, but you’ve long averted your eyes from him.
The image of Cal looking at Merrin is now burned in your retinas. Doubt and jealousy spread within you, so you leave for the back of the ship, missing Merrin’s questioning gaze on you.
Greez sets course for Zeffo to bring the Astrium to the temple and finally, hopefully get the Holocron. You wonder what will happen after that. Is the crew gonna split up? You sure hope not; you don’t really have anywhere else to go.
You didn’t join the Mantis team much earlier than Cal did, so this was your first time you were on the move with Jedis, and if you were being honest, you liked it. Most of it, at least. You liked the sense of adventure, sure. The constant worry about a certain redhead, not so much. And yet you can’t get enough of him and his boyish smile as he apologises for the scratches and bruises you nurse back to health. You’re sure that you’d follow him to the end of the Galaxy if he asked you to.
But that probably isn’t gonna happen, not if you correctly read how Cal and Merrin exchanged looks throughout the evening when eating dinner. Merrin asked for her steak rare, and you felt that with every jab of her fork into the meat (which to you was way too red), she was looking in your direction. You really weren’t in the mood to confront the newcomer, especially when Cal and even BD seemed so thrilled to have her here, so you tried to ignore her most of the day. Which probably wasn’t the most polite thing to do, but there were other things on your mind.
When the time came to sleep, the crew had to make a few changes. The Mantis has four separate rooms with two bunks each, and until you figure out something better, Cal volunteered to bunk with Greez so Merrin could have her own room.
Now lying in your bed at night, you think back to how you almost didn’t get to talk at all with Cal since he arrived with the Astrium today, despite how worried you were. Just like every other time he’s gone ever since this race for the Holocron started.
As the medic of the crew you’ve had to patch up Cal several times, often giving him a piece of your mind, given how badly injured he came back sometimes. You don’t consider him to be reckless though, in fact you saw how competent he is first-hand when he defended you from an Inquisitor. But still you can’t help the knot in your throat and the tightening in your chest that only loosen up when you see him coming back to the Mantis in one piece.
And just like every time he came back, today too he sat on the chair as you cleaned up his wounds. Usually you two would chat while you work, but today you had refrained from saying too much, scared that the conversation would shift to the new crew member, and as such giving away how you felt about her. Not that you disliked her (you still hadn’t dealt with Merrin enough to get an idea of the person she was), but her being seemingly close to Cal had put a significant dent in your confidence. Your plans of confessing your feelings to him were now thrown into the bin and you felt silly for ever thinking you had a chance to begin with.
You sigh to yourself in your bunk, pulling the blanket up to your chin and waiting for the ship’s constant hums of hyperspace to lull you to sleep. But at the speed your mind is racing, you doubt sleep will come your way any time soon.
Just as you’re considering doing some reading instead of sleeping in an attempt to tire yourself out, there’s a knock at your door.
Your breath hitches and you tense up. The first person that comes to mind is Merrin; what if she’s here to tell you off or something? To confront you about your attitude at dinner? Or worse, what if she’s here to… hurt you?
No wait, that’s ridiculous. Shaking away your thoughts, you clear your throat.
“Come in,” you call to the person on the other side.
Much to your surprise, when the door slides open, it’s Cal standing there. A shirtless Cal to be exact, only wearing sweats. He's holding BD in his arms and quickly comes in, closing the door behind him, and approaches you to sit on the edge of your bed.
“I did not know a body so small could snore so loudly” he remarks and yawns.
Even though you've seen Cal without his shirt plenty of times when patching him up, you can feel the heat prickling your cheeks. You really hope he can’t see how you're eyeing him up, no matter how much you try to tear away your gaze.
“Can I… sleep here tonight?” he asks, and your heart skips a beat. You internally reprimand yourself for that as he’s obviously asking about the bunk above you, not about sharing your bed.
“Of course,” you reply, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you.
He thanks you and climbs onto the bed. BD beeps something you don't understand, and Cal answers in quiet whispers you can't really hear.
Some minutes pass by, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. Now there is for sure no way you'll fall asleep, great. You plan on waiting for him to pass out so you can pull out your book, but Cal keeps shifting back and forth, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in.
“Can’t sleep?” you ask after some time, and he sighs deeply.
“Sorry, I'm probably shaking the whole thing,” he says with a sheepish chuckle.
“Wanna sleep down here?” you find yourself proposing, and mentally facepalm yourself. What you meant to say was “Want to switch places?”, but now you made it sound like you're inviting him to sleep in your bed with you. Not that you'd have anything against it, but he's probably taken aback by it–
His fiery hair hangs from his head as he’s peeking down over the edge of the bunk to look at you.
“Really?” he asks, and you can't tell if the tone of his voice is teasing or hopeful. He probably understood what you meant about switching places, right? And that's what he means to do?
You merely nod your head with an affirmative hum, and Cal’s face disappears so he can properly climb down. He comes to stand beside the bed just as you're sitting up to get out. You're about to throw your legs over the edge when he places a knee next to you, and you freeze.
“Scoot over” he instructs, and you follow. He lifts the blanket and slides under.
You turn on your side with your back to him, trying to shuffle all the way to the wall so he has enough space. Instead you feel yourself being pulled back as Cal hugs you from behind and brings you into his chest, tangling his legs with yours. BD joins the nap pile as well and settles at the end of the bed.
“Is this okay?” he asks, tightening his hold around your waist ever so slightly, and you're still too stunned to speak, so once again you merely nod, and he heaves a deep sigh, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.
“Is this okay for you though?” you suddenly blurt out. He lifts his head at the question.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought… you and Merrin…” you say and immediately regret it, forcing yourself to shut up. You should have just kept silent and enjoyed this moment.
“What about her?” Cal asks, the arm at your waist pulling you over to lie on your back while he props himself on his elbow to look down at you.
You don’t answer immediately, unsure of what to say. You fidget with the hem of the blanket.
“I don't know, the way she looked at you… I thought you two...”
He gives you a small, maybe even shy, smile.
“Greez was snoring,” he states, which seems pretty unrelated, so you quirk an eyebrow at him. “And whose room did I go to?”
You avert your gaze from his, not wanting to give in just yet. Somewhere in the back of your brain there was still a little voice saying that there's no way he's implying what you think he's implying, and that you shouldn't get your hopes up because you're only gonna get crushed.
Then he softly calls your name, and you're suddenly aware of how he can possibly not just hear but feel how your heart is pounding against your ribs, with his body pressed to your side. His hand reaches up to gently hold your chin, turning your face to look at him, and your cheeks burn once more.
The way he looks at you, how the dim lighting from behind seems to form the faintest of halos against his copper hair, how his ocean eyes shine through the darkness and look into yours longingly… You make sure to commit everything to memory, afraid of this moment ever ending. You're so busy counting every freckle, tracing every line of his face with your eyes, his jaw, his collarbones, that you miss how his own eyes flicker to your lips for a moment, and he starts leaning in.
Before you can even process what’s happening, Cal presses his lips to yours. The touch is feather-light, almost like he’s scared to press too hard. Just as quickly as it started, it ended much too soon. Pulling back only enough to look at you, he’s about to say something, but you go first.
“Do it again,” you demand in a whisper. “Please.”
Cal’s happy to oblige and leans back down, now with more confidence. This time he feels you reciprocate, so he moves on top of you, his arms on either side so as not to crush you with his weight. He traces your bottom lip with his tongue, and you open your mouth to meet it with your own. Your hands reach up, one around his toned back, the other over his shoulder, to his nape, and into his fiery hair. Tangling your fingers into the strands, you pull ever so slightly and he groans into the kiss. If you thought your cheeks were burning before, now your whole body is positively ablaze.
He breaks the kiss for much needed air, peppering some more on your jaw and neck, which makes you giggle lightly.
You’re both panting lightly, trying to get your breathing and erratic hearts under control, still looking at each other in awe of what just happened, when BD suddenly beeps.
“Wha- Yeah, I was about to!” Cal says over his shoulder to the droid.
“What did he say?” you ask, cupping his face with both your hands, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes.
“He said I should tell you how I feel about you,” he explains sheepishly, and when you chuckle at that, he looks back at you.
“I think you’ve made it plenty clear” you tell him with a grin. “But you can’t never be too sure.”
Cal stifles a laugh while shaking his head, hugging you to him and turning around so now you’re on top of him. The action makes you squeak in surprise, and your hand shoots up to cover your mouth as you hide your face in his chest in embarrassment. He chuckles, and you can feel it rumbling through you both.
“Then let me clear it up,” he starts and his face gets a bit more serious. His hand comes up to hold your face, brushing over your cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re the first thing to make sense in a very, very long time. I’ve been running, hiding for so long… You reminded me that there’s more to life than just survival. And now I can’t imagine a life without you in it.”
You place your own hand over his own, leaning into it and closing your eyes to savour the moment and make sure that you’re not dreaming. After a moment you look back up at him with a smile you can’t stop from spreading no matter how hard you try, not that you’d want to.
Since you don't really know how to answer and put your feelings into words, you decide to kiss him one more time. It’s cut short though as you have to lean back for a yawn you can’t stifle. Despite your racing heart and the million thoughts going through your head right now, the claws of sleep are slowly creeping in to claim you.
You kinda slump onto Cal, who huffs in surprise but hugs you nonetheless, and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as you nestle your body against his, your leg over his hip.
“I also want you to stay in my life, Cal,” you mumble as you lazily trace shapes onto his skin. “Even after we find the Holocron and everything, no matter where you go, I’ll be right by your side and kiss you better when you get your ass beat by some monster somewhere.”
“Can’t wait,” he says with a chuckle and a kiss to your head, then wishes you good night, hugging you impossibly closer to him.
#goose feathers#cal kestis x reader#star wars cal x reader#jedi fallen order x reader#star wars x reader
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𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 — 𝐀𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐄𝐑
— summary: you're a temptation all on your own, but how does your professor react when you show up to a meeting in a pretty summer dress?
— pairing: professor!hotch x female reader
— content: basically straight porn; aaron is extremely horny for reader; age gap (reader's age is not specified, but the dynamic implies it); established sexual relationship; forbidden sex/relationship; fem receiving oral; unprotected p in v (don't be like them); cream pie; no use of y/n [4.0k words]
— author's note: i've been rereading this and editing it like crazy over the last week bc i'm so rusty with writing & i wanted to be happy with the final result and i think i am?? who knows. anyway, thank you to @spacecowboyhotch for beta'ing this for me and making me feel better about it. and thank you to those who showed their interest in this fic, your enthusiasm has helped with my confidence tremendously <3
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College is both fulfilling and really confusing.
Confusing in the sense that you often wondered if you were pursuing the right degree.
How can anyone ever know for sure what they want to do for the rest of their life? Is there even a way to know? People change and so do their interests, but asking yourself that question had made your head hurt and stressed you out more than was healthy, so you stopped.
Now, you're only two semesters away from getting your Bachelor's and you've never been more sure of a decision in your life.
Admittedly, this revelation had nothing to do with the fact that you enjoy learning about forensics and how the human mind works, and everything to do with who is teaching you those things.
Professor Hotchner was your criminal psychology professor and was insanely handsome, middle aged, tall, broad, soft spoken—pretty much everything you found attractive in a man.
Your choice to sit in the front row and directly in front of the podium was a spur of the moment decision, but had given him a perfect and unobstructed view of you. He had caught you staring at him on several occasions because of it, and he's sure you've caught him a few times, too.
He just couldn't help himself. The way you looked at him with your pen between your teeth, however innocently, caused inappropriate images to run through his mind daily. Frequently getting lost in his own daydreams of you, imagining what you'd smell like, how your skin would feel beneath his hands. You were the first person he'd seek out, a thrill of excitement rippling up his spine when he saw you already looking at him.
You had become the primary source of his fantasies, nobody else even coming close to you. Your face and body was the one he thought of when he needed release, and it worked every single time.
It made him feel dirty and shameful, but it wasn't enough to get him to stop.
Still, Professor Hotchner would feel a heavy lump form in his throat when you'd stay after the lecture was over, waiting patiently for the rest of your peers to leave before asking him a question. Nervous you somehow knew of his filthy secret because you were always so shy face to face, rarely ever making eye contact with him.
But the profiler in him knew different. You were attracted to him, even if he struggled to understand why, your body language said everything you didn't. Still, it was purely speculation, and the insecure side of him was convinced it was his delusions playing a trick on him.
It wasn't till you scheduled a one-on-one meeting that he received absolute confirmation of his suspicions.
You hadn't gone out of your way to dress more provocatively, which some students have done in the past for a better grade, but you had a new air of confidence he hadn't seen from you before. You were the one to make eye contact first, maintaining it when his brown eyes stared back into yours, challenging you to look away.
Then, you took him completely by surprise.
"Profile me," you had said.
He thought you were joking, hadn't had a student ask him that unless they were skeptical of profiling, but he could tell that wasn't what this was.
So, he gave you exactly what you wanted.
Everything he ever noticed about you, he said, and he couldn't get enough of the way your eyes watched him intently while he did.
It intimidated you, being perceived that greatly by a man like him, but you still relished it. Knowing he chose to pay attention to you in a room full of people, taking the time to learn all those things about you without an incentive, it made you feel powerful.
After that day, you had scheduled more meetings—an excuse to spend more time with him. He didn't mind it, and would take any chance he could to see you on a more personal level. Although, he always kept these meetings strictly what they were meant to be: you getting extra academic help, something that was available to all of his students.
While you were clearly his favorite, he refused to show you favoritism. He expected the same out of you as he did everyone else, and you appreciated that. You didn't want special treatment just because you flirted with each other. That's not why you flirted with him to begin with.
You were genuinely interested, and you didn't want him to question that.
Eventually, however, your relationship had turned sexual. You had kissed him first, when you took a break together after working side by side in his office for a couple hours, grabbing coffee from the nearest coffee shop. His hand pulling you closer by your waist when another man walked in was purely instinct, not to claim possession over you, he's seen what this world is capable of first-hand.
Regardless of his intentions, his touch had awakened something in you, something that made you stand on your toes and kiss him.
It was sudden, unexpected, but absolutely welcomed. Your lips tasted sugary sweet, mixing deliciously with the lingering bitterness on his, and he couldn't stop himself there. He had taken you home after that, worshiping your body like he always dreamed, and fucked you senseless till both of your needs were satiated.
It happened several times after that, always off campus, and Professor Hotchner—now Aaron, which he had insisted you call him when you were alone—had intended to keep it that way. Establishing a no-sex-in-his-office rule for himself to strictly follow.
However, your respective schedules had made seeing each other outside of lecture impossible recently, and he was aching for you.
And the outfit you currently had on only made it worse.
It was different from what you were wearing during the lecture earlier that morning, catching him entirely off guard. The t-shirt and jeans you originally wore had been traded for a sundress that was short enough to tease him, awakening the intense hunger he felt for you.
In your defense, it was midsummer in Virginia, which meant that it felt suffocatingly hot outside.
Even he had exchanged his typical suit and tie for something more manageable in the heat, removing the tie and jacket from his wardrobe for the time being. It seems you had made the proper adjustments to your attire as well.
The only problem is, it was at his expense.
Your dress accentuated every part of your body he loves, the ones he thinks about regularly. He couldn't help but look, his eyes drifting over your figure as you walk into his office.
"This isn't what you were wearing this morning," he notes as you greet him with a brief kiss, like always.
You look down at your outfit, pulling at the hem slightly, shrugging.
"It wasn't as hot this morning."
Aaron hums, feeling your heart thump a little faster against his fingertips as he slowly traces them along the neckline of your dress, admiring the way it fits you. It's gentle and teasing and you do your best to not let it get to you.
"Well, I like it. It looks beautiful on you," he compliments.
"Thank you."
Your voice is soft, and a little bashful; you've never been good at accepting his compliments but you do your best and that's what matters most to him. He wants to be able to tell you what he thinks and you believe him, not brush it off like he's saying it just to say it.
He brings you in for another kiss, not fully satisfied with the one you'd given him before. One of his large hands caresses the back of your neck, your breath shallow as he tugs you closer by your waist. His tongue swipes over your lips, groaning into your mouth when you let him in. It's tender and loving, and way too passionate for the office.
Remembering his rule, Aaron pulls back, and places one last kiss on your cheek before distancing himself.
"In your email you said you aren't confident about the final," he says, changing the subject. "Remind me what's giving you trouble."
The kiss leaves you wanting, mind foggy as you try to make sense of his words and what just happened. He rounds his desk as you gather your thoughts, an amused expression on his face when your brows furrow, an indication that you're struggling to think clearly.
"Yeah I uh, I still don't fully understand structuralism," you finally manage.
"Okay, tell me what you do understand."
Aaron gestures for you to join him on the loveseat in the corner of the room, bringing his laptop with him. You trail behind, setting your bag on the floor and pulling out your textbook. Your dress rides up further when you sit down, exposing more of you to him, and he has to force himself to look away before he takes this meeting to an entirely different direction.
There's a tab sticking out of the pages that you use to make finding the right one you're looking for easier.
Scribbled down words adorn the margins of the textbook, different colored gel pens indicating certain details of your notes that he can't even begin to decipher.
As you begin explaining the topic to the best of your ability, Aaron listens, wanting to give you his full attention. The more you go on, the more he determines that you are overthinking it and second guessing yourself. You understand the material fine, better than he anticipated, even.
He merely scratched the surface during lectures, the topic not something that needs to be discussed in detail in this particular class, but you're thorough—he's come to learn that's a characteristic you possess in all aspects, especially the ones he tends to benefit from.
Still, he lets you continue because he loves hearing you talk, and gradually moves closer, the appropriate and respectable distance between you becoming smaller and smaller.
You waver a few times, but he signals you to keep going.
He simply wanted to be closer; didn't have any ulterior motive. It's easier to touch you from this distance, to lean in and press a chaste kiss to your cheek because he can. It's easier to admire you up close, where he can brush his finger along your jaw while he tells you how beautiful you are.
It's nothing new. Aaron's love language has always been words of affirmation and physical touch, not that you've gotten to the point that you're ready for love confessions, but it's how he expresses his attraction towards you.
However, when a draft in the room gives him a hint of your perfume, everything changes.
His touch is more determined now, intentions set on getting you out of that goddamn dress. One of his hands makes its way to your shoulder, brushing away the hair that covers your neck. He leans in, placing firm kisses along your jaw before drifting down to your pulse point.
You fumble over your words again, his lips soft and perfect and very distracting.
"Sweetheart," Aaron murmurs when you don't continue, the words muffled against your skin, "I don't remember saying you could stop."
His tone is businesslike, a stark contrast to the very unprofessional things he's currently doing to you. You suck in a breath when his hand skates over your thighs, your head instinctively titling to the side to give him better access.
"I can't concentrate," you pout.
"Then just relax and focus on me."
"But—"
Aaron nudges your jaw and captures your lips in a messy kiss, his large fingers digging into the flesh of your hip as he speaks. "You're stressing yourself out, my love. You understand the material fine. Will you let me dote on you for a moment? I've missed you."
You nod, letting out a soft moan when he retreats back to your neck, teeth and tongue working together to suck a mark into your skin. It feels so good that you forget to speak, a sharp squeeze of his hand on your thigh reminding you that he always expects a verbal response.
"I missed you too, but... what if someone hears us?"
He smiles, pleased that you know him so well. The way he's touching and kissing you is a clear indication of his end goal, and he loves that you know it.
"I suppose we'll just have to be quiet, then."
You take a shaky breath when he takes the textbook from your grasp and sets it aside before moving his hand to the seam of your thighs, a request for access. A satisfied hum leaves his lips when you open them without hesitating, and trails his fingers along the inner skin.
His touch is affectionate, not at all rough or taking, and it turns you on like crazy.
"My perfect girl," he murmurs to himself.
The praise and his voice makes you ache for him even more, and his eyes zero in on the tiny wet patch that begins forming on your panties. His mouth waters at the thought of how delectable you're going to taste when he finally gets his tongue on you.
Carefully, Aaron moves off the loveseat, kissing his way down your body as he gets settled on his knees. He pulls you closer to his face and your dress scrunches up around your waist at the action. The deep breath he takes is slow and mere inches from your barely clothed cunt, his broad and rough hands smoothing over the backs of your thighs.
"You smell incredible," he sighs, content with being in this position. "Can I, baby?"
While getting your consent every time is extremely important to Aaron, you know he's not actually asking for your permission. He already knows that you want him, but it's more to hear you beg for it. With the desperate state he's got you in, you easily give him what he wants.
"Please," you whisper. "I wanna feel you, Aaron. Please."
One of his fingers grazes your pussy as he pulls your panties to the side and out of his way, revealing you to him, the cold air in his office sending a chill up your spine.
"You sound so pretty when you beg, but you gotta be quiet for me now, okay?"
The second your meek "yes, sir" hits his ears, his mouth is on you and your back arches at the contact, a heavy groan resounding through him at his first taste of you in weeks. The warm sensation of his tongue sliding through your folds is more than enough to make your body go alight in an instant, your fingers grasping at the loveseat.
You try to watch him as he works, propping yourself up on your elbows as your jaw goes slack and your eyes threaten to shut with how fucking incredible it feels. He's good at this. So good that it's difficult to suppress a loud moan that creeps out your throat, the sound echoing throughout the room.
All he does is look at you, mouth still attached to your pussy, and you murmur a quiet "sorry" in such a pathetic tone it makes his cock twitch.
Aaron readjusts himself to get a better angle, arms circling your legs to keep you in place. He spreads your folds with his fingers to give him the space to focus his tongue on your clit, teeth occasionally coming out from behind his lips to nip at the sensitive bud. You writhe from the pleasure it brings you, your legs threatening to close around his ears and keep him there forever, and he wishes you would.
He'd live happily if he could drink in your taste every waking moment and feel the way your body shivers in response to each of his actions.
"Aaron," you whimper, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.
He hums in response, and your eyes practically roll to the back of your head, the vibration stimulating you further.
He slips a finger into you easily; the mixture of your slick and his spit giving him no resistance, so he adds another, curling the digits once he's knuckle deep and grazing a spot in you that has you grinding against his face.
"Oh, fuck," you mewl, one of your hands finding its way to his head, determined to keep him right there.
You can feel the mess you're making—of yourself, of him and the loveseat. Aaron knows he'll never be able to be in this room again without thinking of this moment, of you spread out and at his mercy, hips rolling eagerly to find your climax.
He uses his free hand to palm himself, the ache in his pants nearing unbearably painful.
"Gonna fuck your pretty pussy, baby, but I need you to come first," he encourages.
And the encouragement works like a damn charm.
The coil in your belly is tight, each delicious swirl of his tongue and thrust of his fingers tightens it further. Your body is trembling, legs shaking as you feel like you're about to erupt. He groans into you again, and your toes curl, the hand in his hair tugging and pulling as the power of your orgasm makes you squirm in his hold. Heavy pants leave your lungs, your bottom lip swollen from how hard your teeth have been digging into the flesh to keep yourself quiet.
Aaron keeps pumping his fingers into you till he feels your walls relax.
Once he does, he backs away only enough to get his belt unbuckled and his fly unzipped. He strokes himself to give you time to catch your breath, the friction providing him with enough relief that he can manage to wait for a little longer.
However, you have different plans.
"I need you inside me, please," you beg, and fuck if that sentence isn't the prettiest thing he's ever heard.
The desire in your eyes makes his heart pound wildly against his sternum—how you make him feel is dangerous. The carnal need and desire he has for you overpowers everything, and both hates it and loves it.
Hates it because it consumes him, loves it because it's you.
"How do you want me?" you ask impatiently.
Aaron gets off the ground, attempts to, anyway. His knees are not as young as they used to be, and you can't help but laugh at the face he makes when he struggles.
"Don't be a brat."
He sits down beside you and pats his lap, and you're quick to seat yourself exactly there despite your wobbly legs.
Before doing anything else, you lean into him, pressing the sweetest kisses you can muster to his lips. You can taste yourself on him and you moan into his mouth because of it. His hands smooth over your ass, giving it a firm squeeze as he pushes his hips into yours.
"I love it when you're on top of me like this," he groans.
Your head tilts back, and your mind had been so foggy from pleasure up to this point that you'd forgotten where you were, awareness suddenly coming back to you. Aaron turns your face back to him by your chin when you start looking around, eyes widening when they land on the door.
"Hey, focus on me."
"But—"
He doesn't give you the time to panic and guides himself into you, the breach sudden and breathtaking, filling you completely. You have no choice but to sit flush against his lap, his broad and strong thighs giving you all the support you need.
"It's locked," Aaron assures you, referring to the door. "I locked it when you got here just in case."
You huff a laugh, breathy and tired. "So, this was premeditated?"
"It always is," he grins.
Slowly, you begin to work your hips, after gaining the needed strength to ride him the way he likes. You falter a couple times, a little weak and uncoordinated, but he's there to help you regain your pace, the two of you working effortlessly together.
You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him carelessly. He teases you by pulling away, smiling at the pout you give him.
It feels oddly intimate and sweet considering that you're both almost completely clothed and fucking on a slightly uncomfortable couch with the possibility of someone knocking on the door at any moment. You know he'd just ignore them, but the sound of your skin hitting his every time you slam down on him and the mingling of your heavy breaths isn't exactly quiet.
Neither of you cares, though, Aaron least of all. Touching himself to the thought of you for the last couple weeks had been good and effective, but not nearly as good as the real thing.
You're so warm and tight, your walls hugging his cock like you were made for him, and part of him is convinced you were. It feels like heaven, and he cherishes it, slipping the straps of your dress down your arms to reveal your bare chest. He groans at the sight and cups your breasts in his hands, thumbs rubbing over your nipples as you continue moving over him.
Everything feels so good that you can't even kiss him back anymore, breathing heavily against his mouth instead. Your legs feel fatigued and they begin to tremble again, whether it's from pleasure or exhaustion, you aren't sure.
"I’m getting close," Aaron warns, his voice taut and rough.
You nod, the coil in your belly forming for the second time. He begins matching your movements, thrusting up as gravity brings you down.
"Oh my— fuck," you gasp, feeling him so deep it takes your breath away.
You come in tandem, your orgasm causing you to squeeze him so tight he can't stop himself from letting go. The groans that come out of his mouth are debauched and loud, and he buries his face into your neck to subdue them. It makes you pulse around his cock, pulling out more of his warm spend.
It's soothing, and you swear you've never experienced anything this sexy in your life.
Your body slumps into his, limbs heavy and tired, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin. Aaron rolls his hips a few times, trying to prolong his blissful high. It overstimulates you, and he whispers his apology against the crown of your head, his lips finding their resting place there.
"I can't believe we just had sex in your office," you say after a while.
He laughs, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. "We weren't ever supposed to, but you looked so beautiful today, I couldn't help myself."
"Hmm," you hum skeptically, "what does that say about how I look every other day?"
Aaron huffs. "Absolutely nothing. It's just been too long since I've had you like this, anything would've gotten me this hard for you."
Your face heats up at his honesty, even the mildest of dirty talk still too much for you, especially where he is concerned. Anything that comes out of his mouth sounds sexy, because his voice fuels your libido like nothing else ever could.
It takes a while before either of you musters the strength to get up, exchanging tired kisses and gentle touches till you do. Your dress is wrinkled and so is his dress shirt, the crotch of his slacks damp and covered in the mixture of your juices and his release.
Luckily, he always keeps a spare change of clothes in his office. A habit born from his days as a profiler.
Unfortunately for you, however, you're stuck looking like an absolute mess.
Aaron does his best to help you straighten up, cleaning your thighs and smoothing out your dress before running his fingers through your hair carefully to somewhat brush it out. It's not the greatest but it does the job. The chime that comes from his phone interrupts him, a reminder of his next lecture and a signal that it's time for you to go.
He makes a mental note to turn on the diffuser and wipe down the couch when he returns.
You leave him with one last kiss, promising to do this again once the semester is over, when he isn't your professor anymore and neither of you has to worry about sneaking around.
It's a promise he hopes you keep.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner smut#professor!hotch#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#.writing
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