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ssa-dado · 3 days ago

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The Metaphysics of Love - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluffy fluff, sapiosexual fluff and - brace yourself - SOFT SMUT LET'S GO SPICY GOYALS!!! Summary: On a rare day off, you planned a quiet morning for Aaron's birthday. But he surprised you instead, taking over the kitchen revealing one of his hidden talents. Caught between banter and intimate teasing, you both savored the depth of your connection, blending banter and desire. One thing is certain though, luck is never by your side. Warnings: +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, or at least do out of your parents' sight - SEX, ORAL SEX ALLUDED (fem receiving because we live in a patriarchal society, we deserve it), lots of dirty talk. Aaron 'how am I a whore' Hotchner, he's just a whore. Word Count: 8.8k Dado's Corner: So, this is the first remotely sexual thing I've ever written. I love reading some good ol' smut, but for some reason, I cringe a lot while writing it. It took me excruciatingly long. I don't know what I'm doing; I don't even know if it's any good or even half-decent - let me know? AAAAA I'm very insecure about this and on posting it eheheheh life is fun isn't it? Is it even smut? Who knows. I need theraphy after this.

masterlist

Greek philosopher Plato wrote, “If only there were a way to start a city or an army made up of lovers. Theirs would be the best possible system of society, for they would hold back from all that is shameful, and seek honor in each other’s eyes.”

On rare days off, there was one thing you allowed yourself unapologetically: to be entirely unproductive.

You took these days like a blessing, where sleeping in was less a luxury and more a necessity - a chance to let your mind drift, to refuse the call to be anything more than just here, in this restful solitude.

And when Aaron came over the night before, both of you embraced that same ritual.

It felt almost like a paradox that two people so fiercely devoted to the relentless precision of your work - two minds honed to confront humanity’s darkest edges, always willing to answer the call, no matter how ungodly the hour - could find such deep, sweet solace in those private mornings together.

Days when, for once, you weren’t bending yourselves to crises or sacrificing the next moment’s peace to duty.

You and Aaron, who could spend hours in a rare, intellectual love, a bond built on respect, shared virtues, and an admiration for the other’s mind, a connection that didn’t rely on words, but on understanding each other’s essence.

Yet when the door was closed and the world locked out, all that intellectual reverence between you replaced by something untamed, something driven by pure, aching desire.

The slide of his hands over you felt reverent yet urgent, mapping each line and curve as though rediscovering familiar territory for the first time.

Each kiss, each touch held the thrill of exploration, a deliberate pace that turned gentle caresses into an unspoken plea. The way he whispered your name, his breath hot against your ear, sending sparks down your spine as he drew you closer, as if he could never be close enough.

In that bed, the world ceased to exist, its demands fading into oblivion as you lost yourselves in each other’s bodies, moving and meeting in rhythm, a silent language spoken only between you.

You felt his every shift, every unhurried stroke, savoring the taste of his skin, his weight, the feel of his hand tangled in your hair.

Every time his hands began their journey over you, it was as if he were memorizing you anew, mapping each curve with a reverence that made every touch feel essential. The way his lips would trace a languid, heated path down your neck, over your collarbone, and linger to each of your breasts, then lower to your stomach – always precise, always teasing, always patient.

Each time, he would pause with that infuriating, electrifying smirk, glancing up at you just as his mouth left warm, wet trails along the delicate skin of your inner thigh, each mark a whispered claim, each gentle bite igniting a spark of wild, irrational hunger.

Then, he’d slow, letting his touch turn soft, his movements deliberate, every kiss a careful mark of possession as he inched closer, closer, until he hovered right where you burned for him most.

The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin, stirring an ache that felt endless - and yet he always held back, drawing out each second to a tantalizing, almost torturous eternity.

Time itself seemed to dissolve, stretched and redefined by his restraint, bending beneath his control until it became something ungraspable, a vast chasm of unfulfilled need. In that suspended tension, everything beyond the heat of his touch blurred and faded, the world reduced to the exquisite ache of his nearness.

Every nerve felt poised on the brink, strung tight between the agony of waiting and the edge of release. It was an ache that deepened with every restrained second, until every part of you ached for him to finally give in - to end the slow, maddening tease and take you over the edge you so desperately craved, to just let you combust.

Every time, you knew there was no getting out of that bed.

But today, you needed to try.

Today was Aaron’s birthday.

It was his tenth birthday as your partner.

His second as your boss.

His first as… your boyfriend.

The word still felt novel, strange to say aloud, as if acknowledging it might make it slip away. Months in, and it hadn’t yet lost its surreal sweetness. So, despite already knowing he would brush it off, you wanted this day to be special.

Not big, not loud, just enough to quietly tell him how much he meant to you.

And how much you loved him.

He had given up on his own birthdays long ago, weighed down by the memories of being called away, the guilt of leaving pieces of himself with every mile, the reason of the failure of his marriage, the strain of missing out on Jack’s moments he could never relive.

But you knew his aversion went even deeper than guilt and regret.

Because Aaron Hotchner, the man whose presence could command a room with a single look, who possessed a physical authority in his stature, his voice, and his steely gaze, was nothing like that in private.

In his job, he could pull strings in hidden places, command respect from even the most powerful, yet, in private, Aaron Hotchner was anything but the center.

He instinctively yielded that space to others, always giving, forever considering his own worth secondary to his duty. For him, the spotlight was an obligation, a necessity he wore well, but not one he sought.

He instead lived with an unshakable humility that, in his own mind, made him unworthy of the small graces most would take for granted.

He was the center for so many others, to let the world turn around him, even for a day, felt almost undeserved.

This was the man you loved.

The man who, in every part of his life, had chosen to orbit around others rather than himself.

But today, you wanted to change that.

If there was one battle you were determined to win, it was this one: slowly chipping away at Aaron’s stubborn sense of self-denial, proving to him that he deserved the care and quiet adoration he so freely gave everyone else.

You’d make it your mission, spoiling him however you could in those rare, fleeting moments he allowed.

Especially today.

Today, you wanted everything to be about him.

You wanted him to let you give him a birthday that revolved solely around him, a celebration in the purest sense of the word.

So, you concocted a plan.

One of your more mischievous fool-proof “evil” plans, as you’d call them.

You’d set your weekday alarm to go off at an ungodly hour, sacrificing your own precious sleep for a just cause. When the alarm blared, you’d pretend it was a simple mistake, and then, under the guise of getting some water, slip out of bed.

Now, Aaron, being Aaron, would try to keep his eyes open, struggling to wait for you to come back to bed, but you were betting on his recent run of sleepless nights to wear him down. He’d have no choice but to let sleep drag him back under.

And while he slept, you’d slip into the kitchen to bake him a birthday cake, filling the apartment with the warm, sugary smell of freshly baked sweets.

But not just any sweets - because Aaron’s idea of a “sweet tooth” was as delightfully twisted as the man himself.

He liked desserts that weren’t cloying, desserts that had just the right balance of sugar and subtlety. You’d stocked up on his favorite ingredients earlier in the week, quietly stashing them away like a stealthy confectionary hoarder.

You wanted the process to take time, to show him that he was worth the hours of sacrificed sleep, that he was worth the care poured into each meticulous step.

Call it love.

You could picture it perfectly, or at least you thought you could: the early morning quiet, just you in your cozy sanctuary, stealing away precious minutes of peace to bake for the one person who had come to mean more to you than anyone else in the world.

You’d sneak out of bed and create something special, something full of quiet love. That was the plan, the picture you’d carefully composed in your mind.

But reality had other plans.

Because, instead, you woke up alone, which wouldn’t have been unusual months ago, back when solitude was your morning routine. But lately, you’d grown a little too used to waking up next to Aaron, finding him there in those rare, lazy mornings, seeing his face softened by sleep.

So, yes, waking up without him startled you.

And that wasn’t the strangest part.

But what truly threw you off was the unfamiliar noise that filled your apartment – the sounds foreign and unexpected, loud and unmistakably upbeat.

Music.

Not just any music, but the kind that seemed plucked from a pop radio station’s Top 30 - those catchy, bubblegum-sweet songs that played over and over, each one sounding like a new but familiar hit. You recognized the song immediately, a few of its lyrics sneaking into your consciousness.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone…”

The music filled the entire space, and the distinct melody grew louder as you slowly pulled yourself out of bed. You quickly washed up, threw on Aaron’s shirt - somehow conveniently draped over the chair beside your bed from last night - and crept toward the source, trying to make sense of the scene awaiting you.

The closer you got, the louder the music became, and as you moved down the hall, another noise reached your ears. A full octave lower, slightly offbeat tune, blending into the chorus.

You stopped.

This new melody was unmistakable - a deep, familiar voice humming along.

You rounded the corner, holding your breath as you peeked around the door frame, and there he was: standing at the counter, 6’2” of pure FBI stoicism, humming and even softly singing along to Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” as he flipped pancakes, completely absorbed, almost…at peace.

Aaron, your Aaron, was singing.

And he was singing on key, to a Taylor Swift song, of all things.

This was Aaron “blues and classic rock” Hotchner, the man who’d first revealed he could play the guitar with quiet pride, a piece of his world he’d shown you like an offering.

This was the man who once played you a perfect riff from Eric Clapton’s “Layla” to win a bet, who could talk about the origins of every Beatles riff and knew exactly which blues chord matched which heartbreak.

You’d seen him pour himself into those riffs and solos, even negotiate an occasional strum in exchange for something even as stupid as a kiss or him asking you to sing along. That was thrilling enough, it was something special he shared with you, revealing his private passion for music.

You’d always thought he kept his own voice hidden somewhere deep.

You’d gone a decade without hearing it and almost expected never to, half-convinced he didn’t even know how to sing. If he did, it was probably as flat as his deadpan humor.

Yet here he was, in his element - or maybe in your element - singing along, his voice low and smooth, threading into the melody as if he’d been doing it all his life.

He wasn’t putting on a show, no spoon-as-microphone dramatics, no fake dance moves. Just the smallest tilt of his head in time with the music, his voice like his presence - restrained, yet always intentional. It was almost as if he was singing to keep himself company, like he’d done this a hundred times over, alone.

It was strange, maybe surreal, to see Aaron singing the words to one of the most unabashedly sentimental pop songs, lyrics he’d usually flip the station over without a second thought.

But what truly was more shocking - was the calm, almost methodical way he sang. It wasn’t the typical poppy, upbeat rendition, he was deliberately bending the melody, drawing out the notes, giving it a weight and richness that felt… sincere.

Even thoughtful.

“Romeo, save me,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, layering over the lyrics with that warm, low cadence that made you feel he was singing a ballad rather than a radio hit. “I’ve been feeling so alone” The lower octave turning the song into something more heartfelt, the kind of warmth you’d find in an old love song.

You barely dared to breathe, your hand resting on the doorframe as you took in the scene, each step bringing you closer, yet you stood still, just watching him.

There he was, perfectly at home in your kitchen, flipping pancakes in time with the song, a bowl of batter at his side, and those neatly diced apples - your apples, the ones you’d hidden for the cake, already sliced and ready on the counter.

He moved with this calm certainty, like he knew exactly where every spoon and skillet was, as if he’d done this a hundred times before, like this was his kitchen, his place.

And watching him, the weight of it settled over you, soft and unassuming, like it had always been there, only waiting for you to notice.

You wanted to see this every morning.

This sight - him in your kitchen, in your space, humming along to a cheesy love song.

You could already imagine so many more mornings just like this - waking up to the quiet sounds of him in the kitchen, maybe later to the faint patter of little feet, to quiet laughter, to moments of warmth and ease you hadn’t dared to let yourself picture.

Right there, it hit you, the thought rising naturally, with the same certainty as breathing: you wanted to marry Aaron Hotchner.

You wanted this morning, and every morning, and every rare, precious moment he’d allow you to share, for the rest of your lives.

It was so startling, it almost scared you - the sheer weight and clarity of it, something you’d never even let yourself imagine until now.

And as if he could read your mind, he sang on, unwittingly echoing the thought you’d just had, the words falling from his lips with this surprising tenderness, so soft you barely heard it over the sizzling pan,

"He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring…”

And in perfect time with the lyrics, he turned, reaching for something on the counter. His gaze met yours, and he froze, his eyes going wide.

Caught.

Caught like he was a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, his cheeks tinged pink as he stammered, “It’s… catchy.”

You couldn’t even form a coherent reply. All you managed to say, a little dazed, was, “Last time I checked, this was my kitchen.” It seemed only fair to mention, because he looked entirely too comfortable, like he belonged there. Which, of course, he did.

Without missing a beat, he smirked, still flushed. “Last time I checked, that was my shirt.” There was a glint of humor in his eye as he nodded at the oversized button-up you were wrapped in.

Touché.

But you couldn’t let him off so easily.

“So, Hotchner’s finally embraced pop?” you teased, moving closer. He gave you a look that was half-fond, half-exasperated.

“Are you going to tell the team?” he asked, lips twitching in a barely suppressed smile.

“Oh, you mean that you know the lyrics to Love Story by heart?” You reached for a piece of apple, savoring the sweetness, both of the fruit and the moment.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms in a way that was both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. "And how exactly are you going to tell them?" he countered, his voice low and amused. "Considering we’re still keeping this whole thing," he gestured between the two of you, "a secret?"

You arched an eyebrow at him, a smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. “Oh, don’t worry, I’d find a way to tell them. Especially after finding my plan completely sabotaged.” You gestured toward the crime scene he’d made of your countertop, the diced apples mixed with flour dust and cinnamon smears, reaching out to pick up a perfectly diced slice. “What kind of monster butchers my last apple?”

Aaron chuckled, crossing his arms in that familiar way that made him look both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. “Well, I got here first, so I have dibs on breakfast duties,” he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he leaned in just a bit closer.

“Admit it, you’re just miserable that I’ve now beaten you not only to the office every morning but also in your very own kitchen.” With a playful smirk, he reached out, fingers grazing yours as he took the slice of apple from your hand, popping it into his mouth.

Your hand instinctively reached up, brushing a stray smear of flour from his cheek, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, your fingers lingered against his skin, warm beneath your touch, your thumb brushing over the roughness of his stubble. “Believe me, Aaron,” you murmured, your voice softening, “I’m hardly miserable. But if there was ever a day for you to be spoiled, it’s today.”

A subtle shift crossed his face, he tried to play it off with a shrug, but you caught the way his eyes softened. “Since when are Sundays such a big deal?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

You smiled, your voice dropping just as low. “Since a certain FBI Unit Chief turned 43 today.”

He paused, something deeper flickering across his face, gratitude, maybe even a hint of wonder. But his lips curled into a small smile as he teased, “So you’re saying you’re obsessed with me? Is that why today’s circled on the calendar?”

You laughed softly, leaning in until the warmth between you was almost overwhelming. “Maybe I’m just a thorough planner,” you murmured, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. “Not that you’d know anything about that, Mister Show-Up-Unannounced-To-Ruin-Everything.”

His chuckle was low, rich, and his hand slid from the counter to your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb traced small, warm circles just above your hip, sending a thrill through you that made your pulse quicken. “Oh, so I’m the one to blame now?”

His forehead pressed against yours, his lips only inches away, his voice a warm murmur that made your breath catch. “I thought I’d get some credit. I put my heart into this, you know.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingertips brushing gently along the nape of his neck as you closed the space between you. “Maybe a little credit,” you whispered softly in his good ear, your voice low and warm,

“But only if those pancakes are as good as the cake I was going to make for you.” You leaned back just enough to see your reflection in his light chestnut eyes. "Happy birthday, Aaron. I love you."

Six words, and that’s all it took.

Six words and the universe seemed to gather itself, suspended in a moment that transcended language itself.

It was a truth so elemental, it resisted adornment, a declaration distilled to its essence, timeless and immutable.

An affirmation that existed beyond expectation, a vow as ancient and constant as the stars themselves.

There is a metaphysics to love, you realized - it stands outside the linear bounds of time, touches the eternal.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice serious thick with emotion, “I love you, too.”

As he leaned in, his lips met yours with a tenderness that felt timeless, like the merging of two notes in perfect harmony. The kiss was neither hurried nor tentative - it lingered, unbound by time, a communion in which words would only lessen its meaning.

It was as if the essence of all things - of breath, heartbeats, even thought - collapsed into a single, quiet rhythm, a pulse shared between the two of you, steady and enduring.

His hand on the small of your back was grounding, tethering you to the warmth and certainty of his presence, yet it held the weight of something deeper, an invitation to transcend the ordinary, into a realm that felt almost timeless.

His fingers traced gentle paths along your spine, each motion a quiet pledge, a reminder that this moment - this suspended eternity - was as real as anything either of you had ever known.

There was something purely metaphysical about it, a union that philosophy itself would struggle to pin down, though it tried - oh, how it tried!

There were passages in Aristotle, in Plato, that hinted at this feeling, words that beckoned yet somehow fell short of translating this precise depth, this shared infinity.

How perfectly absurd, yet fitting, that the ancient words you’d studied your whole life only now truly resonated, here, in his arms.

It was probably a blessing that he couldn’t read your mind, or he’d surely tease you mercilessly, forever, about finding existential truths in the simplicity of a kiss.

Yet philosophy was the only thing that could try to capture even a fraction of what he made you feel. You would have likely confessed that, at this very moment, he seemed to hold all the secrets of the universe in the softness of his gaze, in the press of his hand.

If he knew, you could already hear him laughing, promising with that faint smirk to remind you every day for the rest of his life: ‘that you were the one waxing poetic, hopelessly undone by his touch.’

But perhaps you’d take that trade-off, if it meant he’d keep looking at you just like this.

Or maybe he already suspected, because as he pulled back slightly, that familiar sparkle was in his eyes. His voice dropped to that low, warm timbre that always seemed to melt you. “You know, I’m the luckiest guy in the world having you as my girlfriend,” he murmured.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, a reaction you couldn’t seem to help, especially when he was the one reminding you of that fact.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your blush. “I love how you keep doing that every time I call you my girlfriend,” he said, savoring each word, his grin only widening.

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” you nudged him playfully, pulling away just long enough to pour yourself a glass of water.

He leaned against the counter, eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “Maybe. It’s the little pleasures in life, you know?” He paused, and you caught the mischievous edge to his voice. “Like watching that blush climb all the way down your neck every time I’m close to you.”

You took a sip of water, trying to keep your cool, but he leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “And I can think of a few more ways to keep you flushed like that,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur.

You nearly choked, sputtering as you looked up at him with a mock glare. “If you say one more word, Aaron Hotchner, I swear I’m dumping this entire glass of water on you.” you warned, pointing to the water for emphasis.

But he didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he raised a playful brow, his smirk only deepening. “Now, that’d just give me an excuse to get closer to you. Which, I’d say, isn’t a bad way to spend my birthday.” He paused, eyes trailing over you in a way that sent warmth radiating from your cheeks down to your very core. “Or… maybe you’d rather see me get out of this shirt? I mean, it’s your call, sweetheart.”

The room suddenly felt too warm, and from the glint in his eyes, you knew he could see how thoroughly flustered you were. You searched for a comeback, determined to give him a taste of his own medicine.

But the words caught in your throat, entirely out of reach, and he noticed - of course he noticed. His grin widened as he leaned back, folding his arms, looking smug and entirely too pleased with himself.

“What’s the matter, Professor?” he continued, a grin playing on his lips. “Don’t tell me the great philosopher herself is speechless?” His voice dropped even lower “No ancient texts to rescue you from this one?”

The challenge in his eyes held you captive, and you knew there was no witty comeback that could save you from the truth: he had completely undone you.

But you managed to pull yourself together just enough to respond, leaning forward as you raised your chin with a defiant smile.

But he didn’t budge, his eyes sparkling with that familiar, infuriating confidence. “Oh, I think I’ll stay right here. Watching you like this?” His smirk grew wider. “This is the best birthday gift I could ask for.”

You raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down, and turned to the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water and holding it up with a knowing look. “You know,” you said, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, “there’s a whole bottle of ice-cold water here. Just waiting to be used.”

He chuckled, unfazed, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Judging from that blush,” he murmured, stepping closer, “I think you’re the one who could use the cold water.” He leaned in, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Or do you want to bet I’ve already got you wet down there?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips as you took a small step back, pretending to consider his words. “Oh, you’re bold today, aren’t you?” you teased, uncapping the water bottle and tilting it slightly in his direction. “I wouldn’t test me, Hotchner.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, though his gaze stayed fixed on you, steady and full of challenge. “But I’d love to see what you’d actually do with that water,” he added, crossing his arms and leaning back with a smirk. “Go on, show me.”

You lifted the bottle just enough to let a single drop slip down, watching as it slid down the bottle’s edge, intentionally drawing it out. “You sure about that?” you asked, your tone daring. “Because once I start, there’s no going back.”

He grinned, holding his ground, eyes dancing with intrigue. “Try me,” he whispered, his voice rough, daring you, his gaze locked on yours.

With a smirk, you tilted the bottle in one swift motion, letting a stream of cold water pour down his neck, catching him completely off-guard. The shock in his eyes was priceless as he gasped, shivering as the icy water spilled over his collar and down his chest, soaking into the fabric of his shirt and clinging to his skin.

You watched, heart pounding, as rivulets of water dripped from his hair, tracing paths down his jaw and across the hollow of his throat.

His breath came shallow, and for a brief moment, he just stared at you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and something else - a heat that went far beyond the playful spark in his gaze moments before.

Slowly, he brushed his fingers through his wet hair, sending droplets flying as he shook his head in mock surrender, chuckling under his breath. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, “I’ll give you that one.”

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, the water still trickling down his neck, clinging to his skin. “But you do realize,” he said softly, a glint of challenge and mischief in his eyes, “now it’s my turn.”

Your fingers threaded into his damp hair, tugging him closer as you pressed your body against his, deepening the kiss with a need that went beyond words.

His mouth moved over yours, hot and unyielding, each kiss more consuming than the last, igniting a fire that pulsed through every inch of you. You let out a soft moan as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you against him, until the lines between where he ended and you began were blurred.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you with ease, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you steadied yourself, your legs tightening around his waist. He walked with purpose, each step deliberate as he moved you away from the puddle on the floor.

Reaching the counter, he set you down, his hands sliding to your hips to keep you anchored to him. You pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist, feeling his hard bulge pressing against you, right between your legs, sending an excruciating wave of heat that made you ache with need of wanting every inch of him.

His lips trailed down to your neck, finding that sensitive spot that made you gasp, arching your back and tilting your hips against him in response, desperate for more contact through all those unnecessary layers of clothes.

That made him chuckle against your skin, his breath warm and teasing as he pressed his hips forward, letting you feel more of him. His hands roamed over your body, one slipping down between your thighs, his fingers sliding over the fabric of your clothes to press gently against your folds. You let out a shuddering breath as he teased you, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric under his touch.

“Shit Aaron,” you whispered furrowing your brows, the sound escaping as a mix of plea and need. He let out a low, satisfied sigh, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes along your folds, applying just enough pressure to leave you breathless.

"Told you needed that cold water too," he murmured, his voice rough and dark with desire as his fingers continued their slow, teasing movements, each touch lingering longer than the last, setting every nerve in your body on fire. "You’re so wet, love."

His lips found yours again, his kiss searing and consuming, swallowing the soft gasps that escaped you as his hand worked in a steady rhythm that left you trembling, every touch building the ache that spread through you.

Your hands found the hem of his soaked shirt, unable to resist the need to feel more of him. You gripped the fabric, slowly peeling it up over his torso, your fingers tracing over every defined line of his abdomen and chest as the shirt lifted, clinging to his skin, heavier from the water.

He shuddered at your touch, his muscles taut under your fingertips, and his breathing hitched as you struggled to work the fabric up over his shoulders. With a quick, impatient movement, he pulled it the rest of the way off, tossing it carelessly to the floor, where it landed with a wet, heavy thud.

The unexpected sound made you both pause, sharing a breathless, shared chuckle that broke the intensity for only a moment.

Then his gaze met yours, dark and blazing with an almost unrestrained hunger. His pupils were blown wide, breaths shallow and quick, matching your own.

The charged silence between you was almost unbearable, every second weighted with anticipation " Let's cut this shit and just fuck me, Aaron," you said firmly locking eyes with him, your tone was thick with need.

"So eloquent," he replied, his voice so low that it made you even more wet than you already were.

"If you don’t have me quoting Plato," you breathed, voice unsteady, “then it means you’re doing it a good job."

He let out a low, throaty chuckle. "Trust me, that's the last thing I want to hear right now."

False. But he wasn’t about to let you know that just yet.

Keeping his gaze fixed on yours, he dipped down slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs, his grip firm yet gentle, holding you open in a way that left no room for resistance and filled you with a breathless anticipation.

His lips brushed softly over your knee, then trailed upward in maddeningly slow, deliberate kisses along your inner thigh. Each touch of his mouth felt like a spark on your skin, the heat pooling within you growing with every inch he covered.

The roughness of his stubble scraped deliciously over your sensitive skin, heightening the sensation and leaving you craving more with every slow, deliberate movement.

“I could stay here all morning,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough, lips lingering at that spot on your inner thigh that made your head spin. “Fuck, your thighs drive me crazy.” He sucked gently at the sensitive skin, and a dizzying wave of warmth coursed through you, making you clutch the edge of the counter beneath you.

“You sound so much better when you’re talking between my legs,” you managed, your voice a whisper. “Almost makes me want to actually listen to what you’re saying.”

A smirk played on his lips as he moved inward with torturous slowness, each kiss deeper and more lingering than the last, his mouth exploring every inch with an intensity that only stoked the fire inside you. “Can’t wait to eat you out,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that made you shiver. “You always taste so damn sweet.”

Just hearing him made your cheeks flush, heat spreading across your skin, and he looked up briefly, catching the blush on your face.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your thigh, the vibration sending a shiver through your entire body. “There it is,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to your skin as if savoring every reaction, “and I’m not even close.”

“Fuck you Aaron,” you muttered, rolling your eyes at the nerve he had, but unable to mask the need building inside you.

“Just give me a few minutes,” he whispered, a wicked smile tugging at his lips, “and you won’t be able to say a word.” Without giving you time to respond, he moved his hand, his fingers brushing over your throbbing, clothed core, drawing a soft, needy moan from you.

“Oh, Aaron,” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as the warmth of his touch sent a shock of pleasure through you.

“Better, but next time just say my name”, he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as his mouth continued to explore every sensitive spot, each kiss igniting fresh waves of desire.

He savored every second, each shiver, each breathless sound you made, keeping you on edge and drawing out your need until you were trembling with anticipation, every nerve alive and straining toward him, aching for the moment he’d finally close that last, agonizing bit of distance.

A soft, breathy moan escaped your lips as his mouth reached the very end of your inner thigh, lingering there with maddening intent before, with one swift motion, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and discarded them, leaving you exposed to the cool air that instantly sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hand flew to his, squeezing his left hand resting on your thigh, seeking an anchor amidst the building tension. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding you there, his grip firm and grounding.

What a gentleman.

As he moved closer to where you ached for him most, the warmth of his breath contrasted with the coolness of the air, sending another wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

Your skin was hypersensitive, every inch of you on edge, the cool air brushing against your slick, exposed core making you tremble with need. You could feel yourself wet, the evidence of your desire trailing down, and he noticed, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he took in every reaction.

Slowly, he leaned in, and just when you thought you couldn’t bear the wait, he let out a soft, cool breath against your sensitive center, the contrast making you gasp, your hips instinctively arching toward him.

The sensation was electric, his teasing touch only building the tension to a fever pitch, leaving you breathless and desperate, every nerve alive, craving his next move.

Every inch of you ached for him, and the faint chill of his breath against your heated skin only made you more sensitive, heightening every sensation as you waited, breathless, desperate, for the moment he’d finally close the distance and give you the relief you craved.

And just as you felt yourself entirely lost in the moment, fully immersed in his touch, your phone rang – your work phone.

Aaron, sensing the urgency of your vibrating work phone, let out a reluctant sigh and leaned down, resting his head between your legs for a lingering moment before handing the phone to you.

His hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he straightened up and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He knew it had to be important if you were getting called on your day off - especially since your last case had barely wrapped up a day ago.

With a sigh, you brought the phone to your ear, feeling Aaron’s hand slide down to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles over your skin. “Agent Y/L/N,” you answered, keeping your tone professional despite the unmistakable warmth of Aaron’s presence beside you.

The voice on the other end chirped brightly. “Oh, don’t worry, Teach, this isn’t a case.” It was Garcia, her usual exuberance coming through, immediately putting you at ease.

Aaron’s head shot up, his expression sharpening as he registered Garcia’s voice on the line. His unit chief instincts kicked in immediately, a hint of concern flickering across his face - he knew as well as you did that Garcia wasn’t supposed to make personal calls to your work phone.

His gaze shifted to meet yours, silently questioning, his eyes searching for an explanation.

But you quickly gave him a reassuring nod, your eyes conveying, ‘It’s fine. Just Garcia being Garcia.’

He studied you for a moment, then sighed, the tension easing from his face as he accepted your silent assurance. She was his favorite on the team, after all – you knew he’d let this slide simply because it was her, and only her.

His tense posture softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he relaxed. But his hand stayed firmly on your leg, his thumb moving in soothing circles, silently grounding you as you continued the call.

“So… what’s up?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Well, I’m just outside your door!” Garcia chirped, and you froze, a sense of dread pooling in your stomach. “I came by to return that umbrella you lent me! And as an apology for taking so long, I brought homemade cookies! But not just any cookies - these are made with your recipe. I had to know your secret, oh wise cookie guru.”

You exchanged a panicked look with Aaron, who widened his eyes, clearly just as surprised as you were. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, mouthing, ‘What?’

The kitchen was a disaster - a puddle of water glistened a few feet away from where you were, his shirt and your discarded underwear lay crumpled on the floor, and a forgotten stack of pancakes sat on the opposite counters, cold and untouched.

You tried to focus, clearing your throat. “Did you, um, brown the butter?” you asked, forcing a normal tone as Aaron’s lips returned to your cheek, planting feather-light kisses along your jawline. You brought your hand up to his chest, gently pressing to stop him just before he reached your neck.

If he kept going, there was no way you’d keep quiet.

“Oh, obviously, I browned the butter! Gourmet tip of the year, right?” she replied with dramatic flair. “But seriously, why haven’t you opened the door yet? Don’t tell me you’re still in bed!”

“Oh, Penelope, uh,” you hesitated, your voice wavering as you shot Aaron a helpless look. He simply leaned back, crossing his arms with an amused grin, watching you squirm. “I’m… uh… a little tied up right now.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then she gasped, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Teach,” she said, drawing out the word as if savoring it. “Did you get laid?”

Your eyes widened, heat creeping up your cheeks, and you avoided Aaron’s gaze. “I, uh…” you stammered, glancing at Aaron, who raised both eyebrows, clearly entertained by the direction the conversation was going. ‘Lost for words, again?’ he mouthed, with a smirk.

“Oh my God!” Garcia squealed. “Spill! Where did you meet them? Was it romantic, thrilling, a slow-burn kind of thing?”

Thinking quickly, you stammered, “Uh… met him at the supermarket, actually.” You glanced over at Aaron, who was watching you with a barely contained grin.

“The supermarket?” Garcia’s tone was incredulous, then turned approving. “Well, look at you, turning errands into escapades! What was it about him? I mean, Teach, this is you we’re talking about, and you have that five-date rule before you even consider any ‘extracurriculars’!”

Aaron barely held back a laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He mouthed, ‘Five dates?’ with an exaggerated look of mock surprise, clearly referencing the fact that it had taken you much fewer than five dates to get there with him.

Grabbing a pen and sticky note from the counter, you quickly scribbled, *It took us ten years, I think we waited enough.*

He read it, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous grin that seemed to say, “Still a win.” He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, and you rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile.

“So?” Garcia’s voice came through again, jolting you back. “What made him so special?”

You cleared your throat, keeping your answer vague. “He was… just nice. Nothing too remarkable. We just clicked.”

Garcia paused, as if processing that. “Clicked, huh? Not the most exciting answer, but I guess it’s better than nothing.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially, “Well, Teach, between you and me - how was it?”

You blinked, struggling to keep your composure. You knew answering in detail would only encourage her. Shooting Aaron a quick, apologetic look, you took a deep breath and answered, trying to be as nonchalant as possible “Honestly? Not memorable.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up, a look of playful offense crossing his face. You grabbed the pen again, quickly scribbling, ‘She’d have asked for specifics. It was the only way to end it.’

But Aaron wasn’t letting it slide.

He smirked, taking the pen from you and jotting, “If I were you, I’d start writing your incident report now.”

You mouthed a playful “Come on, Aaron,” but he didn’t relent, writing again, ‘You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you. Trust me on that.’ His eyes gleamed with a mixture of humor and something darker, and he added, ‘Consider it a favor to your Unit Chief.’

The moment he pulled rank - even in jest - you knew he wasn’t kidding. A thrill shot through you, as, you realized: oh, you were fucked.

Meanwhile, Garcia was still on the line, sympathy dripping from her voice. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Teach. I hope the next one is better! But hey love, you’re a catch, you’ll have a line of suitors soon enough.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, grinning as he traced lazy circles along your arm, clearly entertained and waiting to see how you’d handle the situation. Just as you were about to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking the conversation with Garcia might finally be wrapping up, she added, “But one last thing… how big was he?”

Your eyes flew to Aaron, who pressed his lips together, struggling to keep from laughing outright. His brows lifted, an expectant glint in his eyes as he waited to see how you’d handle this new level of interrogation.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, hiding your face behind your hand for a second before answering.

“Oh, Penelope,” you began, doing your best to keep your voice steady as Aaron’s expression practically sparkled with mischief. “Size… let’s just say he was… more than enough.”

You gave Aaron a pointed look, as if to say, ‘Happy now?’

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye, and picked up the pen to scrawl on a sticky note, “At least you said something true this time.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms with a smirk and that unmistakable, self-satisfied gleam that only made him more infuriatingly irresistible.

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to wipe that smug grin off his face. He was lucky you loved him, even when he was this cocky.

Garcia hummed, clearly intrigued. “Alright, alright, keep your secrets! But I’ll be needing a coffee date soon to get all the details. And I’ll make sure to bring a tape measure!”

Aaron’s smirk only widened, thoroughly enjoying every second of your discomfort. Determined to take back some control, you grabbed the pen, furiously scribbling, “If you don’t stop smirking, I’ll make you wait a week.”

He arched an eyebrow, clearly unfazed, and took the pen, writing back with a smug confidence, “I don’t think you’d last a week.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in close, his mouth brushing your ear. “In fact,” he whispered, voice low and challenging, “I’d bet you’d be begging in less than a minute.”

Just as he pulled back, you caught yourself, remembering Garcia was still on the line. You shook yourself out of the daze he’d left you in, quickly bringing the phone back up. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later. I’ve got a bit of a… mess here to handle.”

“Ohhh, say no more,” she replied with a knowing giggle. “Go handle your ‘mess,’ teach! I’ll swing by later to drop off the cookies.”

“Sure thing,” you replied, hoping to end the call before anything else slipped. “Talk soon!”

Finally, she hung up, and you let out a sigh of relief as you placed the phone back on the counter.

Before you could even process the call, Aaron wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back toward him. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss along your jaw, trailing slowly down to the sensitive spot on your neck, his touch igniting that spark of need all over again.

“‘Not memorable,’ huh?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed his lips along your collarbone, his voice thick with amusement and challenge. “Guess I’ll have to change that.”

You smirked, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug as you met his gaze, your eyes gleaming. “Consider it a challenge,” you whispered, voice heavy with anticipation.

“Oh, I intend to,” he replied, his voice low and filled with a promise that sent a thrill through you. His hands slipped down to your waist, gripping firmly as he lifted you effortlessly back onto the counter.

His fingers traced along your thighs, pulling you close until there was no space left between you, his warmth flooding over you as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was anything but forgettable.

The intensity of his lips left you breathless, his mouth moving with a need that always made you ache for him.

But just as you were melting into the kiss, he pulled back abruptly, leaving you gasping.

Without a word, he turned and walked toward the entry room where he’d left his briefcase the night prior.

You sat there, still dazed, watching as he rummaged through it with purpose. When he returned, he handed you a piece of paper and a pen, his smirk widening as you looked down and realized he’d handed you an incident report form.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “An incident report, really?”

He grinned, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You file this,” he said, voice rich with amusement, “and in the meantime, I’ll clean up this kitchen disaster we made. How’s that sound?”

“You’re serious about this?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face as his fingers slid teasingly up and down your sides, his touch setting your skin on fire even through the fabric.

He leaned close, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Think of it as a precaution,” he murmured, his breath tickling your skin. “Can’t have you running to HR with ‘not memorable’ complaints, now can we?”

You arched an eyebrow, glancing at the cold pile of pancakes beside you. “Fine. But if I’m filing paperwork, I’m at least entitled to a last meal,” you teased, reaching for one of the now slightly stale pancakes.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his fingers brushing along your jaw as he looked at you with mock sincerity. “Of course. I’m not heartless,” he said, sliding a hand possessively down your thigh. “Wouldn’t want you complaining that I wasted your ‘last apple.’”

You rolled your eyes, grinning as you took a bite, savoring the taste with exaggerated satisfaction just to get a rise out of him.

As you took a bite, he leaned in, his lips trailing a slow, heated path down your neck, each kiss sending sparks across your skin. “Finish up,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with promise. “You’re going to need a lot of energy later.”

You smirked, picking up a pancake and handing it to him. “I think you’re the one who’ll need it more,” you teased, eyes glinting. “Wouldn’t want you throwing out your back, old man.”

He raised an eyebrow, biting into the pancake you offered, then leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Old man?” he echoed, his tone low and challenging. “We’ll see who’s begging for mercy first.”

You chuckled, unfazed. “Just looking out for you,” you replied innocently. “Can’t have my Unit Chief all sore and out of commission, can I?”

He chuckled, his fingers tightening around your waist. “Sweetheart, by the time I’m through with you, the only thing you’ll be looking out for is a place to catch your breath.”

“Oh?” You leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Big talk. Hope you’re not all bark and no bite.”

He tilted your chin up, his gaze darkening as he smirked. “Oh, you’ll feel the bite.” His lips brushed over yours, slow and teasing. “And trust me,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve got more than enough stamina to keep you… occupied.”

You grinned, meeting his dark gaze with a defiant spark in your eyes. “More than enough stamina? Now that’s a bold claim,” you murmured, your voice laced with playful challenge. “But, if you’re looking to impress, I’d expect nothing less than an all-night performance. Think you can handle that?”

His smirk grew as his hands slid up your sides, pulling you even closer. “Oh, I’m not just handling it, I’m guaranteeing it,” he replied, his voice a low, rumbling promise. He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, just close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “In fact, sweetheart, I don’t plan on letting you sleep at all tonight.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept up the game. “Guess I’ll have to cancel my morning plans,” you replied, pretending to sound disappointed. “Here I thought I’d be waking up fresh and ready to tackle the day.”

He let out a soft, amused chuckle, his fingers slipping down to grip your hips firmly, pressing you against him. “Oh, you’ll be plenty ready to tackle something,” he teased, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head, giving you a slow, purposeful once-over. “But the day? Probably not. You’ll be too busy trying to remember how to stand.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smirk never left your lips. “Big words, Hotchner. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He leaned closer, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Challenge accepted,” he murmured, his tone dripping with intent. “And just so you know,” he added, his mouth ghosting over your skin, “the only thing I’ll need all night… is you begging for more.”

“Confident, aren’t we?” you teased, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug. “But confidence only gets you so far, you know. You’ll have to back up all this talk.”

He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, his eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips brushing over yours. “By the time I’m done, the only thing you’ll be able to say is my name.”

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet”, Plato.

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

Hope you liked it :) Happy birthday old man

#aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #symposiumff

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cheqorb · 2 days ago

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More Between Us.

You’ve always been just friends, but they can’t ignore how their heart races whenever you’re near.

FEAT. Isagi, Bachira

NOTES. probably my most tooth-rotting post yet! annnd I totally forgot I had this in my drafts Bring this duo back to me though pleasj

ISAGI is easygoing, and mild-mannered by nature (though perhaps his rivals disagree on that). It’s literally harder to not be friends with him. Your relationship was equally good, nothing particularly special and not abysmal. The type of friends who might talk on the way to class if you spot each other, but never go out of their way to do so either.

If asked, you wouldn’t even say best friends; he’s too busy with his teammates, and you have your own friend group.

See, Isagi enjoys thinking about stuff in a logical sense, using reason and evidence to support his ‘theory’. Both in real life and in football.

So before he even comes to the conclusion of a crush, firstly, there’s the small details he picks up about you.

Your eyes shift colour slightly if the sun hits them right. But, he reckons that happens with everyone’s eyes. Your eyes crinkle upwards when you smile, and maybe even dimples form on your cheeks as you do so. He likes seeing people smile, and yours is… in a way, cuter than anyone else’s? If he had to rank smiles, he’d put yours near the top. All hypothetical, obviously!

He’s always been observant, even as a kid, so Isagi figured he was just feeling a little more insightful as of late but it doesn’t stop there.

Suddenly, Isagi finds himself unconsciously lingering in places he knows you'll be. He tells himself it's just coincidence, but deep down, he has a feeling that he’s seeking you out more often.

Practicing with his team becomes a lot more strategic, with him making sure he's near your usual route home (not in a stalker way, at least, he hopes not), and just on time so that he can ‘bump into you’ and walk together.

And he lives in the complete opposite direction, so, while you don’t mind his presence, you find it a little odd.

Isagi begins to remember every little thing you mention, even the small stuff, like your favorite snack or the song you've been listening to on repeat. Next thing you know, he’s casually surprising you with them, acting like it’s no big deal but loves it when you get visibly excited about it.

He fumbles with his words a little more around you now, overthinking simple things that never used to bother him. It’s not like he’s shy (actually one of the best communicators out of everyone), he just doesn’t want to mess up or make you think he’s weird!

If he says something that could be interpreted as mildly creepy, he’s actually the first one to call it out and apologise over and over again. Beats himself up about it at home, even if you thought it was mildly funny that he knew what you were doing last week Tuesday at around 5:06PM…

When his teammates joke about him having a crush, he laughs it off, but there’s always a little pink in his cheeks that he hopes you don’t notice.

He'll start texting you first more often, just to share something funny or ask for your opinion on something trivial. It’s an excuse, really, just to have another reason to talk to you.

Also catches himself smiling whenever he sees a notification from you pop up on his phone, and his heart does a little flip when he reads your replies, no matter how mundane they are. Literally a “hey, I’m bored. Wanna hang out” is enough for him to lose sleep over it.

When you two do eventually go to said hang out, he pays extra attention to you: whether it's making sure you’re comfortable, or that you’ve got enough to eat, he’s always subtly looking out for you.

Despite all these signs, Isagi convinces himself it’s better this way — giving you small hints for you to understand rather than straight-up confessing. If you notice them and accept, great! If you notice and don’t accept, that’s fine too, he hopes you can remain friends though!

If you’re completely oblivious, well… he’ll muster up the courage to say it outright.

You and BACHIRA are like two peas in a pod together! Where there’s one, the other’s probably lurking nearby somewhere. Every second of every day seems to be spent with each other (and to anybody with common sense, you two already look like you’re dating).

When the crush starts, he thinks about you more than he already did, if that were even possible. Every little thing you do seems to make his heart race, but he sorta brushes it off as just excitement from being with his best friend.

Kind of a trickier situation than Isagi’s one this way though, because now you’re so close, Bachira doesn’t even feel that different about you. He might not even realise it’s romantic until his mother points it out in the midst of another one of his rambling sessions. About you, that is.

I won’t sugarcoat it; he’s nervous if anything. You’re one of the few friends he has and genuinely seem to care and like about him and if he ruins your friendship over his feelings, he’d be devastated.

But he’s back to his usual self and gains a little confidence after some encouragement from others!

Bachira’s clinginess ramps up a notch, but it’s so typical of him that you might not even notice. He’s constantly draping an arm around you, leaning on you, or just being in your personal space as much as possible.

Willing to share anything and everything with you. For example, if it’s snacks he’s got, he’s always picking out the best pieces just for you and handing them over with a cute smile.

Bachira finds himself staring at you a lot more now. Sometimes you’ll catch him and he’ll just laugh it off with a playful comment, but on the inside, his mind is racing with thoughts he can’t quite put into words.

When you talk, he listens with full attention, his usual playful demeanor softening into something more tender. He hangs onto your every word like it’s the most important thing he’s ever heard — and you could literally be talking about a bug you saw on the sidewalk this morning.

If you ever need anything, Bachira’s the first one to jump in and help, no questions asked. He’d go out of his way just to make you smile, even if it means a truckload of extra effort on his part.

Sometimes, he hints at deeper feelings in his usual roundabout way — in little jokes that might just have a hint of truth behind them. But he always plays it off as just that, a joke.

If you’re feeling down, he’s the first to notice, offering comfort in the form of goofy antics or just sitting with you in silence if that’s what you want.

If you ever confront him directly and ask if he feels something more than just being friends, Bachira might just spill everything in a rush of words; unable to keep his feelings hidden any longer. But until then, he’s content simply being by your side, even if it means he isn’t being entirely honest to himself.

#CHEQ. writing #CHEQ. from the heart #CHEQ. bllk #isagi x reader #bachira x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x gender neutral reader #bllk x reader #isagi x you #bachira x you #bllk fluff

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estcaligo · 2 days ago

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Sebek and Romance: Additional Thoughts (or part two) after reading his Halloween SSR vignette and finishing the event but mostly about the vignette

- Part one - Sebek and Romance - My translation of the vignette

In my previous post, I speculated about two major influences on Sebek's understanding of romance and romantic feelings - his parents and books and I was right :)

So, what else can we conclude from this vignette?

1. Verbal expression matters

The most important takeaway is that verbal expression of feelings and thoughts is everything to Sebek. We can definitely say his primary love language is words. For him, verbalizing - both the pleasant and the less pleasant - is a must. Just. Say. It.

However, words (not only as a love language) can be tricky, as it's all about what words you choose. With physical touch, for example, it's simpler. But with words, you need to choose carefully when delivering your message. I think we've all experienced at least one uncomfortable situation caused by a poor choice of words.

And where does Sebek learn this art of wording? Books, of course.

That's why I'm amazed at how well-written Sebek's character is. His values and views align perfectly with his hobby. His emphasis on words and verbal expression, along with his being well-read, suggests he's on his way to mastering communication that aligns with his values.

2. His observant nature

The part where Sebek mentions noticing Sally's feelings for Jack actually flipped my view of him a liiittle bit. We often assume he'd be oblivious to feelings or accuse someone (like the Prefect) of “bewitching” him. But here, we see the opposite: he notices the romantic tension between Sally and Jack right away and doesn't get weird about it. So, we can assume, when the same situation happens to him, he'd likely be calm, polite, and eager to reach a logical conclusion as fast as possible, depending on how interested he is in the person.

In general, Sebek is self-aware, attentive, and genuinely smart - not just “book smart" (a little too trusting of Lilia's advice, yes, but well...) And since he knows quite a lot about romance, even if he's not “chill" about it, he would still approach his romantic feelings with total adequacy.

3. Mention of his parents

To my surprise, when Sebek mentioned his parents' story, he didn't address his father in a condescending way. He didn't even call him “human” once. This says a lot to me. Yes, Baul's influence was strong, but his mother's love and energy were stronger. He still loves his father - in his own way. His only dissatisfaction with his father is that he's human, but that's a topic for another post. They still an exemplary love couple to him and that's wonderful.

4. His admiration and loyalty to Malleus

The part where Sebek talks about his determination to stay by Malleus's side was both heartwarming and inspiring. I still hope we'll get more insight into why he's so dedicated to this idea (I have some theories, but maybe for another post).

What we see here only strengthens Sebek's character as loyal and determined. And, once again, he emphasizes how he expressed (verbally) his desire to serve. Words and verbal expression are deeply important to him. Naturally, since loyalty and devotion are core parts of his character, once the target of that devotion has earned it, one can expect similar adoration and loyalty toward his partner as well.

In conclusion?

Sebek is amazing, and he should be reminded of it every day. With words. Out loud. Just. Say. It.

Bonus point: I loooove that he has a playful side and can be so cheeky - doing it totally on purpose lol. That scene where he adds to Jack's jealousy? Sebek, you menace :)

#it's a bit messier than the previous sorry #twisted wonderland #twst #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #twst jp #twst analysis #diasomnia #twst nightmare before christmas

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sturniololuv08 · 2 days ago

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Bat Matt (Dorky Batman Short)

@sunrisemill Post led to

@sturniolosfan1902 comment about a dorky matt fic which led to

@m4vestu encouraging me to write it

SO HERE WE ARE:

"I'm not doing it." You shook your head from side to side.

"Babe, please. I need to save you." Matt begged desperately for you to fulfill his fantasy. You looked into his bright blue eyes. You knew you failed the minute you sighed. "Yes!" He triumphed as he ran to put on his dark clothes. You smiled a little to yourself because you loved seeing him excited. He was always quiet so when he showed enthusiasm about something it tugged on your heartstrings. "Where is your eyeliner?" He called from the bathroom.

"Why do you need -"

"Don't question me!" He interrupted you.

"It's in the left drawer." You shook your head. You continued scrolling your phone while you heard him shuffling around.

"Honey, where's my super suit?" He quoted The Incredibles movie.

"Matt, really?" You regretted caving in.

"You're right, wrong movie." He agreed.

Within minutes, Matt was standing in the doorway with his head held low. His clothes were all black and baggy. His hair was flopped over his eyes. You saw why he needed your eyeliner, to black out his eye sockets. His jaw looked even thinner as he leaned up against the doorway.

"That didn't take long." You giggled. You weren't entirely sure what you were signing up for tonight but you were here to make your boyfriend happy.

"To the bat mobile." He huffed in a deep voice. You stood up off of his bed and walked past him. He let you through only so that he could squeeze your butt when you did.

"Matt, that's not very Batman of you." You jumped a little surprised.

"Do you wanna fight some bad guys with me?" He whispered in your ear. You sighed and walked to the garage with Matt sulking behind you. You got in the car and waited for him to join you.

"Babe can you film me driving real quick for a video." He asked in his normal voice.

"Sure." You took his phone and unlocked it. You opened up his Snapchat and started filming. "Okay. Go." He immediately was in character and started rizzing up the camera. He looked at you but not directly at the camera. He ran this thumb over his jawline while holding a serious look on his face. You hated to admit it but he looked really good.

"Got it all?" He was back to being Matt.

"Yeah. It's good." You didn't want to tell him how good because you didn't want it going to his head. He parked the car near a park and you both got out. "What do you need me to do?" Even though it was the middle of the night you were embarrassed to be doing this.

"They think I'm hiding in the shadows, I am the shadows." He huffed not answering you. You walked away to go over to the play set. He followed you for a few steps and then randomly started sprinting.

"Matt!" You eeked scared.

"I am Vengeance." He didn't turn to look back at you. The park wasn't lit up very well so with him in the all-black costume he became harder to make out in the distance.

"Matt?" Your voice was a little shaky from real nerves. He was gone. "Matt, where are you?" You knew what you had to say to get him to come back but you didn't want to. After looking around and trying to find him you gave in. "Help, Help. Please someone help me." You playfully begged. Matt dropped down from one of the play sets right in front of you. You lurched backward unprepared for his body falling from the sky.

"The city needs me." He gruffed. He then proceeded to punch the air around you.

"Thank you for saving me." You would like to be able to say you haven't done this before but unfortunately, Matt had talked you into this before so you knew what he wanted. "How can I ever thank you without knowing your name?" You asked to play the part.

"I'm... Batman." He growled slowly.

"Thank you so much." You pretend to swoon over your dark savior. "How do you do this every night?" You put your hand over your forehead.

"All men have limits. I ignore mine." He scoffed and kissed your cheek before walking off. You knew he was living his best life when he was living his "double life." You sat on a swing and started scrolling your phone while you watched him lurk in the darkness. Every once in a while you saw a black figure move and you heard his breathy mumble say some catchphrase.

"Bat Matt, I'm getting cold." You hollered out.

"The city needs me." He said right behind you.

"Fuck!" You jumped and fell out of the swing unprepared to have his dark voice in your ear.

"Babe -" He shook his head to reset his voice. "Babe, are you okay?" Matt was back.

"I'm fine can we just go home now? It got way too cold to be out here."

"Batman doesn't -"

"I know but this damsel in distress does." You rubbed your arms. He took off his puffy black jacket and wrapped it around you.

"Don't ruin my cape." He said seriously.

"Matt, it's a jacket." You looked at his stern face to see how serious he was. You made it to the car and slid inside. He turned on the heat he didn't drive right away to let the heat blast on you for a few minutes.

"Better?" He looked at you with puppy dog eyes hidden behind the dark black that was now smeared.

"Uh-huh." You nodded. He started driving and this time even though he wasn't doing the angsty look he still was extremely hot to you. When you walked in the front door Chris and Nick were hanging out in the living room together.

"Nice costume," Nick said slowly with a wide smile.

"What costume?" He was back in character flawlessly.

"Woah." Chris and Nick both got up and came over to check him out.

"This is insane." Chris chuckled. Matt started shadowboxing him.

"Where's the Joker?" Matt grabbed Chris' collar.

"Calm down killer." Chris shoved his hands off of him. I smiled at him having a second go at Bruce Wayne's Character.

"If you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world will remain the same."

"Oh. My. God. You are actually kind of good at that." Nick pulled out his phone to record him. I rolled my eyes knowing this was going to go to his head so much faster with his brothers encouraging him.

"My parent's death shaped me into who I am today." Nick moved around him getting all the angles for the video. I stayed in the background letting them have their moment. I also knew not to be in the video because then he couldn't post it.

"I can't believe you let him role-play as Batman still. Halloween was like three weeks ago." Chris nudged my shoulder. I just shook my head as we watched him jump off the back of the couch.

"I just want to see him happy." You sighed out with a big smile.

"The city needs me." He looked directly at you.

"Bat Matt, I didn't say anything." You were confused.

"Even with my mask on, you’re the one who sees the real me underneath." He trudged over to you and picked you up. You suddenly knew what he wanted.

"To the cave?" You asked lifting one eyebrow.

"To the bat cave." He turned off the living room lights on Nick and Chris as he took you back to his room.

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolowattpad #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #batman matt #batmatt #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo short #matthew sturniolo batman #matthew dorky batman

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emmylksblog · 19 hours ago

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ONE STEP AT A TIME // Héctor Fort

summary: after a big fight, you’re feeling like a total fraud but still show up to Hector’s game. Emotions run high, but a sweet moment brings you back together. based on this request.

genre: slight angst, fluff

warnings: none

a/n: hey girlies! 💅 it's been a while since i last posted, where did the time go? life got hectic with uni and all that grown-up stuff that i just went survival mode for a while 😰 but i’m back tryna be consistent 🫶🏻

The final whistle echoes through the stadium, and as the crowd begins to disperse, you make your way to the players’ exit, weaving through clusters of fans. Your heart pounds, a mix of worry and anticipation tightening your chest.

You finally catch sight of Hector, walking off the field with a noticeable limp. He’s putting on a brave face, smiling politely at fans, but you notice the tension around his eyes, the way he tries to mask his discomfort.

“Hector!” you call out, your voice getting lost in the hum of the crowd. He turns at the sound of your voice, eyes searching for a moment until they land on you. His expression shifts—first surprise, then something softer, almost relieved. He takes a few hesitant steps toward you, and you close the gap.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be here,” he says, his voice warm but guarded. He tries to meet your gaze, but his eyes flicker with hesitation, as if he’s unsure of what to say after days of silence between you.

“Of course I came,” you reply, keeping your tone steady, though your heart feels heavy with everything left unsaid. You glance down at his leg, noticing how he shifts his weight to avoid putting too much pressure on it. “Are you okay? That looked pretty rough.”

He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, just a bit bruised. The medics insisted I sit out the rest of the game, but it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Your eyes linger on his leg, catching every wince and grimace he tries to hide. “Come on, let me take you home,” you offer, voice gentle but firm. He hesitates, looking like he’s about to refuse, but something in your expression makes him nod.

The car ride is quiet, the city lights casting soft shadows across his face as he stares out the window, lost in thought. You steal a few glances his way, trying to read him, feeling the weight of unspoken words between you. Your heart aches to explain everything, to ease his worry, but the words feel stuck, too fragile to break the silence yet.

When you finally arrive at his apartment, he takes a step out of the car, flinching slightly as he shifts his weight. You reach out instinctively, offering your arm for support. He gives you a small, grateful smile, and you both walk inside, each step slow and careful.

Inside, you help him ease onto the couch, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh as he stretches his leg out. Without a word, you head to the kitchen, grabbing an ice pack and a towel. Kneeling beside him, you press the cold pack gently to his injury, your hands moving carefully, focused on not causing him any more pain.

He watches you quietly, his gaze lingering on your face. “Thank you,” he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of something vulnerable. “You didn’t have to do this.”

You pause, glancing up at him, your fingers still on the ice pack. “I wanted to be here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. You drop your gaze, suddenly feeling exposed. “I know I haven’t been around much. And I’m sorry.”

His brows knit together, and he studies you with a mixture of concern and confusion. “What’s going on?” he asks gently. “You’ve been so distant, I thought… I don’t know, that you needed space or maybe… I was making things harder for you.”

You feel a pang in your chest, his words hitting closer to home than you’d like to admit. You try to find the right words, the ones that will explain everything without unraveling you completely. “It’s… it’s not you,” you say finally, glancing down at his hand resting on his knee.

Your fingers brush against his in a brief, hesitant movement before you pull back. “I just… I feel like a fraud sometimes. Like I’m constantly putting on a face for everyone, and I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore. And I didn’t want to bring you into that.”

He’s silent for a moment, his gaze steady and unwavering. Then, he reaches out, his hand covering yours in a gentle but firm grip. “You’re not a fraud,” he says, his tone soft yet resolute. “And even if you don’t believe that right now, I do. I see you—all of you. And I’m here because I want to be, not because of some version you think I expect.”

Your breath catches, the weight of his words sinking in. You look away, blinking back the emotions threatening to spill over. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing, grounding motion.

For a long moment, you sit in silence, letting his words sink in, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours. Slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze, feeling a flicker of relief settle in your chest.

“I just… I don’t want to let you down,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he leans back, still holding your hand. “You could never let me down,” he says, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “We’re in this together, okay? Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you feel the last of your walls begin to crumble. Without thinking, you lean forward, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his arm come around you in a steady, comforting embrace. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t push for more. He simply holds you, his presence a quiet reassurance that, no matter how messy things get, he’s here.

You stay there for a while, the tension between you slowly dissolving, replaced by the familiar warmth of his closeness. After what feels like an eternity, Hector pulls back slightly, tilting your chin up gently with his fingers so you’re looking into his eyes.

“I care about you,” he says softly, sincerity etched on his face. “You’re not alone in this.”

In that moment, you feel everything you’ve been holding onto begin to lift, replaced by the quiet, steady assurance of his love. You’re about to say something, to thank him, when he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. The tenderness of the gesture sends warmth flooding through you, solidifying the connection that had felt frayed just moments before.

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. And as you lean into him again, you know that together, you’ll find your way through the chaos, one step at a time.

#hector fort #hector fort x reader #hector fort x you #fc barcelona x reader #fcb x reader #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #marc guiu #marc guiu x reader #pablo gavi x reader

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beanarie · 16 hours ago

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inspired by this post by @epiphainie and people's awesome tags on it.

the messenger

The buzzer rang five minutes after Evan's text (Just coming back from our last call. Thank God. Not even stopping to shower I am outta here. See you in 20. 15 if I gun it. Start getting those clothes off.)

"Hello?" Tommy said, pressing the button. "Is someone there?"

"Oh, Tommy. I didn't even- Good." Something crackled on the other end. "Sorry, it's uh. It's Maddie."

Well, it was hardly his gate to keep. Tommy redid the buttons on his shirt. "Come on up."

Maddie arrived with Jee-Yun on her hip. She still had her work shirt on and she was mostly looking everywhere but him.

"Hi," he said, curiosity shifting to concern. He hadn't spent much time with the Han family unit. Not long after he and Evan became official, Maddie and Howie rescued a traumatized child from a group home and their free moments then went towards maintaining the connection between her and the parents she'd been ripped from, aka Hen and her wife Karen. But from what he'd heard about her, Jee-Yun seemed uncharacteristically subdued. Feeding off her mom, perhaps. "He's not back yet."

She looked up at him, very briefly, just long enough to give a good view of her reddened eyes. "Right. They're pretty much done. I asked Howie to meet us here."

She set Jee-Yun up on the easy chair with a coloring book and markers, then kissed her cheek. "Draw Mommy a nice picture, okay?"

Tommy ducked his head as she approached the kitchen, conscious of their differences in height. "Maddie?"

She took in a sharp breath, her eyes bright as she raised one hand. "I'm sorry. I'd tell you. I'd just hate to have to keep saying it."

"Okay." He touched her shoulder and left his hand there a moment. "I think there's... tea?" She was already too brittle and fragile for alcohol.

She nodded gratefully, her gaze going toward the kid quietly marking up a page of farm animals as he retreated to the cabinets. He thought about Howie's brother, Alfred- no Albert. His name came up occasionally in group conversations. He'd couch-surfed through the family, becoming a firefighter himself until he realized that being barely legal to drink and loving his hero brother weren't good enough reasons to stay at a job that didn't do it for him. After resigning, he'd gone back to Korea.

Tommy didn't ask. Asking would force her to answer.

He thought of some other names, which he also did not bring up.

They each had a mug of vanilla chai, which Evan never touched but Tommy loved. Tommy sipped his. Maddie only stared at hers. The door opened, letting in good-natured smack talk.

"Look, all I'm saying is, if it actually had been a rottweiler, you would've finished the call on the other side of the street."

"Okay, okay, Mr. I didn't enter the tiger apartment until Chimney tranqed it."

Tommy wondered at the logistics, whether Maddie's request of Howie arrived before Evan fled the station house, or if the two of them surprised each other by making it to Evan's building at the same time. Maddie breathed in, letting the motion straighten her posture, and stepped away from the counter.

"You didn't enter until after that, either!" Evan turned away from Howie and the grin fell from his face. "Maddie? What's going on?"

Howie glanced at Tommy, who gave a tiny shrug.

She took Evan's hand. "Buck," she said. "Come sit down."

Tommy discarded several names as Howie came and stood next to him.

Maddie sat next to Evan at the table, both of her hands covering his. "Mom called me about an hour ago from the hospital. Dad had been having some chest pain and they found a severe blockage. They went in for a double bypass, but-"

"But what?" Evan asked quietly.

Her face crumpled. "Something went wrong during surgery and they couldn't stop the bleeding." She removed one of her hands from his to stifle a sob. "Dad's gone."

"Shit," Howie whispered.

Maddie shifted the angle of her chair and leaned forward to throw her arms around Evan's neck. After a second or two of shellshock, he returned the embrace, tightening his grip around her. When he met Tommy's gaze, he didn't look sad, or angry. He just looked lost.

"Daddy!" Jee-Yun cried, making the entire room flinch, right before she launched herself at Howie.

#911 abc #bucktommy #madney #parent death tw #my writing #things by beanarie

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fuck-customers · 17 hours ago

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I just have to vent to someone about this: I work in a convenience store. It gets real slow sometimes, so there's a few customers I'll chat with to pass the time. But I have an annoying customer that comes in almost everyday, sometimes multiple times a day, to complain about his dog. He used to be totally silent and honestly pretty rude to me, but one day I was talking to the woman in front of him while I was checking her out and I casually mentioned that my mother and grandmother both trained dogs, so I picked up a lot from them. Since then he's decided I'm supposed to help him with all his dog training woes.

Apparently his old dog passed away a few months ago and she was super easy and calm, so he decided to go out and get another dog. He showed me a picture of her and she looked like some sort of cattle dog mixed with dalmatian, maybe with some malamute or husky thrown in. He complains that she's nothing like his old dog, she's constantly whining and barking and never sits still and she's destroyed his furniture. And I try to be sympathetic but like... buddy. Your old dog was a senior dachshund and your new dog is a nightmare amalgamation of high energy, high maintenance dogs. I'm surprised she hasn't torn your house apart board by board. I tried telling him as gently as possible that high energy dogs like her need a job to do, or at least lots of exercise to get her energy out, but apparently he doesn't want to listen.

He also acts like the dog has like.. a personal vendetta against him? He says things like "(old dog) knew I have to get at least 6 hours of sleep every night or I can't function, but (new dog) wakes me up on purpose every night. (old dog) would never treat me this way." I eventually had to be like "You.. do know nothing a dog does is personal, right? If she's acting out it's because her needs aren't being met or she hasn't been trained properly. I think you're anthropomorphizing her too much."

He just stared at me blankly before being like "What did you just say?"

"Uh. You're anthropomorphizing her too much?"

"What does that mean?"

I proceed to tell him that animals aren't people and it's useless to prescribe certain human emotions or thought processes to them. Like.. the dog isn't trying to disrupt your sleep because she hates you, she just probably has to pee. Or she's feeling pent up because she didn't get walked enough. He was quiet for a little bit again before being like "I never thought about that. You're actually kinda smart, I didn't expect that."

I awkwardly fake laughed and was like "What, did you think I dropped out of 3rd grade or something?" and he, with the most serious look on his face, said "Well you work here for a reason."

So he basically admitted to my face he's been bothering me for dog advice for WEEKS but hasn't been taking any of it because he thought I was stupid and beneath him. Just... why. 😑

Posted by admin Rodney

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jaegeraether · 2 days ago

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Sunsets and footballers (Part 97)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (73) / Alexia Putellas x Character (49)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((4.1k))

Due to popular demand, I'm going to post a chapter every Sunday night until we hit Part 100!

ALEXIA POV

“Are we sure..?” Alexia asked.

The trio nodded. She clicked ‘post.’ It was a simple thing, an Instagram story with photos of their time away together. There was the plane with Alexia flying, the tiramisu featuring Ridley’s hands, the beach with their hut and both an almost naked Ridley and little Chiquito in the distance, Chiquito sitting on a table with this tail curled around over top of his paws, both of the photos of Alexia with the floating lanterns, and her kissing Ridley.

It was a post she’d never thought she’d get to put on social media, as much as she wanted to. And the only thing making her uncomfortable was the caption that was agreed on by Ridley, Duce and Beckett.

It was written in Spanish first, and then English.

*Our little paradise. London here we come.*

Her phone began buzzing almost immediately. Messages started flooding in. Comments. Likes. Support.

YFN liked your post.

Jenni Hermoso commented on your post: Whaaaat? I’m not sure which is more surprising, the girlfriend or the cat. Call me.

Mapi León liked your post.

Lucy Bronze MBE liked your post.

Lucy Bronze MBE commented on your post: Double date? *food emoji*

Ingrid Engen liked your post.

YFN commented on your post: Well this has just made my entire month *red heart emoji* love you both!

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and smile as she put her phone down. She truly had amazing friends.

But in the back of her mind, it made her uneasy knowing that someone who wanted Ridley dead would read it. She tried to take the positive with the negative.

She and Ridley were now officially public. She’d been monitoring Ridley’s expression, worried she’d find regret, though there was none. Her expression seemed to reflect Alexia’s own. Happiness.

The plane journey was over ten hours so they ate dinner and shortly after, both Duce and Beckett fell asleep on the large couches in the main area. They seemed at peace for once. No one could hurt them in the sky. She saw their hands extended towards one enough and pondered at it. One look at Ridley’s expression and she confirmed that they were, in fact, a thing.

Ridley pulled blankets up over them and led Alexia to the bedroom. Immediately inside, her back hit the wall as Ridley’s mouth came down on hers.

“Fuck, Lee.” She moaned into her.

Where it came from, she didn’t know. But she wasn't complaining.

Ridley’s hand worked its way up her shirt and slide under her bra, her thumb stroking across her nipple. Alexia couldn’t help rocking her hips forwards into her. She bit her lip in return, tugging it.

“Lex.. I need something from you.” She managed to get out in between their hungry mouths.

Alexia returned them before she responded. She grabbed Ridley by the hair and pushed into her but god, was she strong.

“Anything…” she moaned. “Anything.”

They kissed more, their hands wandering and feeling as many things as possible. Alexia loved all of Ridley but in particular her back. Those strong shoulders. Her abs. And her goddamned face.

Ridley’s hands moved over Alexia’s footballer muscles that she loved so much. Alexia’s thighs, her ass, and also her neck.

“Alexia,” she murmured into her neck. Her breathing was a little distorted. Was Ridley nervous?

“Tell me…” Alexia said, taking her face between her hands. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me, Alexia.”

Alexia stopped dead, realising exactly what she was asking. It was not a new fact that Ridley was bisexual. She’d had sex with men before. She’d taken her fingers. But she’d never not been in control. Not since… an incident in high school where she’d not had a choice. A discussion they’d had on the island..

Their equal sex was different. Ridley had never been in a submissive position.

Right now, she was asking for that. She was asking for Alexia to be that dominant person she could be. La Reina.

“You want that?” She whispered.

“Only with you.”

The level of trust in her eyes melted Alexia. She wanted to cry. But that was superseded by that dominant side of her. She kissed her and nodded into her lips. “Stop me at any time.”

Ridley didn’t need to respond, but she knew she heard her. Alexia shoved her back against the opposite wall, hard. Her mouth landed on hers needily and Ridley just… accepted it.

Another wall lowered. Another piece of Ridley opening up to her.

Alexia pulled the shirt over her head, dragging her sports bra with it. She kissed her way down her neck, savouring her way down to her chest and took one of her nipples into her mouth, sucking. This was one of Ridley's favourite things.

Ridley groaned, her hand fisting the back of Alexia’s hair while her other, injured hand braced on the door. Alexia worked her like that until Ridley was fidgeting, and then lowered to her knees, dragging her remaining clothes down off her. This wasn’t new, as she was so used to and comfortable being naked. The new thing was the lack of decision making. The laying there and taking it. Alexia leant forward, kissing her core and rising, trailing her fingers up the insides of her thighs. When she reached her mouth, she dipped her fingers between her folds to that glorious warm, wetness as her lips parted on hers.

“Bed, Lee.”

Ridley wandered naked to the bed, Alexia admiring her ass before turning and ensuring the door was locked, placing her shoes in front of it.

Just like Ridley liked. It was peace of mind.

Nothing about their sex was generic or mechanical. Ridley needed to be comfortable and loved to be put into the position she was and be happy with it. And so, for what felt like hours, they rolled around, kissing and touching. Tasting and rubbing. Everything possible that was more than sex. It was intimacy.

Only when both she and Ridley were perfectly ready did Alexia slip the strap in. It’s something she’d said she would do to her before, though she never though she’d be able to like this.

Ridley was on her back, her legs raised slightly, head dropped back as Alexia’s hips moved between her legs. Her knees were braced like the many, many times she’d done it before, though now it was different. Ridley didn’t want to be fucked. She wanted to be loved. She needed to feel her there. Alexia knew that which is why she let her body slide along her as she moved with a steady pace.

She didn’t watch her. Didn’t assert dominance. Alexia simply placed her head on her shoulder and cherished the feel of their bodies slipping back and forth over each other as she fucked her.

Ridley is mine.

She kissed her as she moved in her; kissing her neck, shoulder, jaw, wherever she could reach.

When the wet sound of Ridley’s body started to sound like they were tightening, she double her efforts, bracing and quickening the pace slightly. She didn’t need it fast; she’d realised over their times together. She just needed it reliably, and towards the end, hard.

God, the sound of Alexia’s hips slapping into Ridley would be something she’d never forget.

She didn’t make many sounds, though she hadn’t expected her to beyond the gasping in between thrusts.

“Please don’t stop.” Ridley begged in admission.

“Never. I love you.” Alexia responded, her mouth now against her ear. “I love you, Ridley. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

“Al…Ale. Lex. Fuck. Fuck me.”

Hearing Ridley beg broke her. She needed this. No one could give her this except Alexia.

Her body was burning, but she loved it. She’d never stop for anything. Never. The sounds of the strap fucking in and out of her. The rising sound of Ridley’s ragged breathing and gasping as she held on. The knowledge of the barrier that they’d just crossed.

A few more minutes of reliable fucking later, and Ridley was coming hard under her letting out a strangled cry. Alexia felt her body tensing shortly after at the sound of her alone.

Two bodies convulsing together.

Tightening together.

Coming down together.

She took the strap out as soon as she was able, knowing that’s what she would have wanted. Alexia dropped it to the floor and moved up the bed, pulling Ridley’s head to her chest.

She didn’t say anything, but she didn't have to.

Alexia kissed and stroked her hair as they fell asleep.

The feeling of fingertips stroking up and down her lat woke Alexia. She woke to realise that she was still holding Ridley’s head to her chest where she was lying silently, her eyes open and thinking. When she realised Alexia was awake, she tilted her head back to look at her.

She was worried for a second that she’d find regret or shame, but she found none of those. Instead, those favourite dark eyes of hers were… peaceful. Calm. Pondering over other things. Alexia tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, the pad of her thumb trailing around the outside of it, over her piercings. Ridley loved her hair stroked like that. Her eyes fluttered closed when Alexia’s hand pulled back and stroked again through her hair, her nails dragging over her scalp and sending shivers down her spine. She did that a few more times until her body twitched itself like it did when she was always close to falling asleep.

“We’ll be landing… in an hour…” she managed to mumble out sleepily.

“We have time to sleep a little more…”

“Mmn.” Was the only response she got from the Australian. A few strokes later and she was back asleep, the worries that she was pondering were gone. Alexia kept stroking until she knew she was fast asleep, and then rested her cheek on her head, letting herself drift off as she held the person she loved most in the world.

After a sappy shower and they watched each other unfortunately put their clothes back on, they rejoined the others in the main cabin. Ridley took Alexia up into the cockpit to greet the pilots and showed her the cockpit setup, pointing out all of the differences and similarities to the other aircraft they’d flown together. After that, they settled down in their seats for landing.

Duce and Beckett were now awake and discussing the plan of attack for the second location with Chiquito waiting patiently on Ridley’s seat as if he was a part of the conversation. His sleepy expression gave away the fact that he had also been sleeping for the past few hours.

Alexia sat down and he jumped onto her lap. She cuddled into him and he into her, as she kissed him on his purring cheek.

“Is there not going to be lots of... people, who go by accident to the wrong location? It was posted wrong…” She queried.

“That’s exactly how we want it,” Duce said. “It wouldn’t exactly be believable if they arrived and no one was there. We’ll have the building covered by our team undercover as usual security, with one entrance poorly manned. When he’s in, we’ll go. Ridley will draw him all the way there.”

Alexia felt uneasy again. She knew it was what they did for a living. She knew that Ridley had been in this situation, and worse, many times over. The scars littering her body proved that. But still – it was an uncomfortable thought.

Ridley noticed her discomfort and leant over to kiss her softly on the cheek. Alexia closed her eyes and leant into it.

It was their first intimate moment in front of anyone.

They landed just after 1430 local time in London. A car was waiting for them at the airport, with an excited looking Lucy and Blau outside. She was now standing without crutches, and even walked her way over to them. Ridley and Alexia closed the gap quickly to ensure she wouldn’t move too far. Ridley caught Blau in her arms gently and lifted her.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey Riddles. I really missed you.”

Lucy caught Alexia in a similar hug, and although it wasn’t usually their thing, it felt right.

“Hola capitana. Chiquito.”

Alexia rolled her eyes. “Hola Lucia.”

Lucy hugged her tightly before pulling back. Her eyes flicked from Ridley back to her. “Good holiday?”

“The best.”

“Oh, we saw your post.” Ridley put Blau down and turned to her, extending a hand. Lucy ignored it and pulled her into a hug instead.

“Ridley.”

“Bronze.”

“Been taking care of my girl?”

“My girl? Of course.”

Alexia and Blau shared a look, rolling their eyes. The Spaniard bent down and hugged the woman most precious to Ridley. Blau had become such a large part of her life as well, and she always had that calming, comfortable presence about her. The hug was no exception.

They both felt like they didn’t want to let go.

“Hola Ale.”

She smiled at the Spanish. “Hola, Blau.”

After a while, they let go and looked at each other. Blau touched her cheek. “You look…” she paused while she thought. “…happy. Really, really happy.”

“I am.” She admitted huskily.

They turned to their loud mouthed partners going at it.

“Don’t even try to lie, Bronze. I can fucking smell it on you.”

“What are you, the sex police?”

“Maybe I am.”

“You try to stop her getting what she wants.”

Ridley groaned and covered her ears.

“Oh don’t you start. You think I smell like sex? What about you two? I’m surprised you both didn’t come back pregnant.”

“You really do have a pregnancy kink, huh?”

Lucy groaned and looked over to Blau who was just enjoying the show.

Ridley turned to Alexia with a cheeky grin.

It was obviously a joke, yet something they hadn’t spoken about before. She made a note to do so.

“Come on you two, we need to get a lot done before the party tonight.” Blau said.

“Party?” Alexia asked.

“Just casual drinks. Leah and Jordan are having a joint engagement and Jordan’s birthday party tonight. Nothing too big!”

Ridley’s face went slightly more serious. Alexia knew why. She was pondering the safety of such an event.

“Are you two hungry?”

“We could eat,” Ridley replied. “But we do need to talk…”

Lucy and Blau held questions in their eyes until the figures of Duce and Beckett appeared.

It was an overwhelming sense of relief to be back in Ridley’s apartment. Ever since they stepped foot on the ground in London she’d felt on edge, but the apartment was different. It was safe. It was home. Chiquito himself was happier again, running around to ensure everything was the way they left it. Benjami and Richard were there and greeted them both with wide smiles.

“I’m so happy it worked out like I hoped…” Benjami had whispered to her in Catalan.

The couple took their belongings upstairs before they had a chance to argue against it. Ridley went upstairs to put her guitar in her studio while Alexia found herself in Ridley’s room, staring at the bed. Benjami and Richard had placed their luggage in the one room. Cheeky.

Two arms slid around her waist and she leant back into the warmth of Ridley. “Would you be more comfortable here or in the guest bedroom..?”

Alexia was surprised by the question and tensed.

“Let me rephrase that.” Ridley murmured, lips close to her ear and her voice dangerously low. “Would you be more comfortable for us to sleep in this room, or for us to sleep in the guest bedroom?”

Ah, that was better. She felt her body relax. “I’ve always liked this room. The bed is very comfortable too.”

A hesitation from Ridley made Alexia smile. “You… have been in this bed?”

Alexia turned and placed her hands on her. “I slept in your bed with Chiquito the night before we left London.”

She loved catching Ridley off guard. Her expression softened. “Our bed, Lex.” She kissed her softly just once. “Our bed. Our apartment. Okay?”

Alexia was worried how husky with emotion her voice would be if she spoke so instead, she nodded.

Ridley stepped back, her fingertips lightly gripping onto Alexia’s. “Come.”

Alexia followed her as she led them out of her bedroom, past the gym where they’d spent so much time, and to Ridley’s office. Once inside, she noticed where Ridley was looking. The portrait of Chiquito she’d painted for her. Benjami had put it up as she’d asked.

“I never got the chance to thank you for this… it’s beautiful. I was thinking we could redo half of the library across the hall into a studio for you, if you’d like?”

There was nothing that set of her emotions quite like talking about future plans, and changing the layout of an entire room was not a small thing.

Again, she nodded to avoid being too emotional. Ridley noticed, though. She always did. She smiled something genuine and reached out to touch the smiling sun on Alexia’s necklace.

“Happy?”

“Happy.” She whispered.

They all sat down to a late lunch and spoke of the plan to capture Bashir. Alexia was not only impressed by how professionally Lucy and Blau took it, but just how many in depth questions Blau had that Alexia hadn’t thought to ask. She was not only protecting her business, but her friends. And for every single one of her questions, Duce and Beckett had an answer.

Their plan wasn’t foolproof, and they knew that, but they had done this thousands of times successfully.

“The event won’t be affected?” Lucy asked.

“No. You should hear nothing at all. We’ll keep it as quiet as possible, and the most you should see is Ridley arriving at your event after we’ve detained him. This is a high end operation.”

“And the party tonight at the pub is okay…?”

“We’re handling the specifics now. The SAS are in contact with the pub and putting security measures in place as we speak.”

“So what now..?”

“Nothing changes for you all.” Duce confirmed.

“Now Luce,” Blau explained, putting her hand on hers and answering the actual question she knew her girlfriend was asking, “Riddles and I are going shopping for outfits for us all tomorrow. And you can go with Ale to kick around the football. You’ve been groaning about how long it’s been, and Ale is the best. We’ll all meet back here and go to the party.”

“And Duce and Beckett will be staying here with us until the situation is resolved.” Ridley added, looking to Alexia.

Duce kept working with her intelligence team over in the living room, sending messages and taking calls while Beckett was up and checking his gear. She’d never seen a gun in person before, and since meeting Ridley’s team, she’d now seen enough weapons for a lifetime.

Ridley leant over and kissed her on the temple. “Are you okay with me picking your outfit for tonight?”

Alexia was proud of her fashion sense, but even she admitted no one rivalled Ridley in that. “No one has ever chosen for me beyond my stylist…”

“Oh baby, I’m far better than your stylist.” She quipped cockily. “But if it makes you happy, I will liaise with her about that, and your makeup and hair.”

She disappeared then with Lucy to clear the table. Alexia could see Blau struggle to stand and helped her.

“Thank you. It’s really difficult when I have to keep this leg straight.”

“It is okay,” she chuckled with sympathy. “I understand you. My knee.. my ACL you call? It was the dark dark time for me. I know how hard it is but I never had this too.” She gestured to her sling and then looked at her jaw. “This is… better?”

Blau nodded. One thing Alexia loved about Blau was that she always understood her and never judged her English. “That’s better. The next thing off will be the knee brace, and then the sling. Lucy’s been amazing.”

She looked over to her and Alexia followed her gaze to see her talking to Ridley in the kitchen as they put the food away.

“Things are good?”

“Things are perfect,” she replied, happy as she always was. Lucy’s little positive ball of light. “And I’d ask the same but I can already see the answer…”

“Mmn. We are… we work on things together. We both want us.”

“And she’s opening up?”

“More than I think she would. We need to find way to make this works with all things.”

“Ah, yes. With you almost ready to start playing again and with Ridley and her company..”

“Sí.”

Blau paused, her face pondering. “Are you happy with her to keep doing her other job?”

Alexia followed her gaze to Duce and Beckett who were now both in the living room talking quietly.

“I… don’t… we have not talk about it.”

Blau didn’t respond to that. She simply looked at Alexia who understood what she was waiting for. She hadn’t answered the question. She looked over at Ridley. “I don’t want her to change. That is big part of who she is.”

“It is. It will always be. But it’s also okay to want your partner safe.”

Ridley looked over as if she knew what they were speaking about. “She will always come home to me.”

“Yes… I think you’re right about that.”

When they were finished putting away the food, Blau called across the room. “Come on, Riddles! I’m not going to be late for this party.”

Ridley rolled her eyes and the pair wandered over. Lucy leant down to kiss Blau.

“Don’t overdo it,” she warned her.

“Promise. Just some practice and some fun.” Lucy replied.

Ridley’s fingertips brushed against Alexia’s and she turned to catch her eyes. They were a little melancholy. It would be the first time they’d properly been apart since Ridley had left.

“We’ll be home soon. Take care of your knee, Lex.”

Alexia didn’t reply. She simply stepped forward and kissed her for the first time in front of their friends.

The party was more casual drinks with many footballers having much more alcohol than they should during season. Alexia didn’t mind. Ridley was by her side the entire night, her head on a swivel in the public area.

They caught up with many footballers who were gushing about Alexia’s post, though the most important was Leah and Jordan. They congratulated them both and the aura of pure happiness around them was contagious. They spoke about the engagement, the games, Ridley and Alexia’s holiday with the floating lanterns, and the Lumos event the next day. Blau had kept the event down to several high-profile footballers such as Alexia, Lucy, Leah, Jordan, Katie, Viv, Ellie, Wendie, Georgia, Lena as well as other popular players from other leagues who work with Lumos. The idea was the showcase the direction they were headed and to promote women’s football across the leagues. There would be many key stakeholders, their own media as well as other public news outlets, merchandise, sponsors etc to push Lumos into the spotlight.

“You said something about a big opening event next year?” Katie asked.

“Oh… yes. This is just a little event to help us gain traction for the rest of the season.” Blau explained. “But in six months, when we’re on our feet and running smoothly, we’ll have our big Welcome to Lumos event where we present our goals and ambitions.”

“One question. Will there be alcohol?”

“You really think I wouldn’t have alcohol for my favourite Irishwoman? Who am I, the Pope?”

Katie chuckled and excused herself as she went over to Caitlin who was calling her for a photo.

Suddenly, Alexia felt a pulling on her waist and followed Ridley as she bee-lined for a table in the corner where Duce and Beckett were.

“What’s going on?” Lucy asked as she and Blau joined them.

They looked at Duce who was silent, staring at an alert on her phone. Ridley knew her friend so well that she had noticed the change in her demeanour from across the pub.

“Duce?” Beckett prompted. Duce’s jaw locked as she read.

“He’s disappeared. We’ve lost Bashir.”

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kanyerealdaughter · 1 day ago

Text

you ask your boyfriend ass or boobs ..?

# A S S O R B O O B S

part || here !

sexual content, (fem,reader) *NOT PROOFREAD*

kinji hakari - he chuckled, an amused smile tugging at his lips. he ran a hand through his pinkish and purple tones barrel twist , a nonchalant gesture, before responding. "can't a man prefer both?" he quipped, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

*its not confirmed that hakari had purple hair or barrel twist i just like to think of him that way but if you don’t like it just ignored it.*

you automatically rolled your eyes you should’ve known he was going to say that. “ noo you gotta pick one kinji…!” you whine.

hakari chuckled at your insistence but played along, clearly enjoying the little game.

"hmm... if i have to pick one," he relented, pretending to weigh his answer.

"i'd say ass, definitely. the curve, the bounce... you get me?" a smirk played on his lips as he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping lower.

hajime kashimo - “ kashimo, are you a boobs guy or an ass guy..?”

"what's with the sudden weird question?" he looks at you with a frown and his arms are folded across his chest. he doesn't seem to be in a good mood, as usual, and it looks like he just returned home.

“ just pick one.” you huffed rolling your eyes.

"boobs, if i have to choose." he lets out a sigh before replying as he gets a headache from your weird question.

“ and whyyy…?”

"because i like the way they look. why are you always asking such weird questions..." he gets annoyed by the constant questions and replies more bluntly with his normal grumpy tone.

*lmfaoo i do believe this man does have a short temper after a long day.*

suguru geto - “ hey suguru, are you an ass guy or a boobs guy.?”

he was clearly caught off guard by the question as he slightly paused. he didn’t expect you to be this forward he then smiles and gives you one good look up-and look down before tilting his head.

“ depends on the girl..”

“ anddd…? what does that mean..?” you asked curiously.

“ it means i like both.” he takes a good look at you. he takes in the outfit you were wearing as his sharp purple eyes slowly scans over your figure before they slowly move up to meet your eyes. he lets out a low chuckle, his smirk growing wilder.

takuma ino - “ ino do you like boobs or ass better..?”

ino’s face turned beat red from embarrassment and surprise from the sudden question

“w-what?! why are you asking me that all of a sudden??”

you laugh quietly from his reaction “ ino.. chill it’s just a question… just answer the question.”

“ b-boobs I guess…” ino’s face was still blushed bright red, trying to come back from the sudden embarrassment.

toji fushiguro - “ toji are you a boob guy or an ass guy..?”

“that’s a very random question…” he replies and looks at you up and down.

“ so..? just pick one..”

“If you want an honest answer I prefer the ass.” he just gives you a glance before looking away.

“ really why.?”

“ because there is so much you can do with it and it looks good i have to admit i look at yours almost every day because i like it that much.” he puts an arm around your waist.

𖣂 KANYEREALDAUGHTER SPEAKS - hope y’all enjoy my first jjk post maybe a part two only if y’all want.

words - .6k

» , ᴀ ᴋᴀɴʏᴇʀᴇᴀʟᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #hakari kinji #hakari x reader #jjk hakari #hajime kashimo #kashimo x reader #ino takuma #ino takuma x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen toji #kanyerealdaughterwrotethis #kanyerealdaughter

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waitmyturtles · 22 hours ago

Note

Hey,

I'm not 100% sure how this works. Also this is more of an opinion than a question. I just feel the need to brain dump. You are under no obligation to reply. 😁

I fear that First and Khaotung are being wasted at/by GMMTV. They're both stellar actors and seem to have the sensibilities to tackle more serious material.

I feel like coming off Not Me, the themes in The Eclipse kinda went over my head. My fear was and still is that I didn't understand all the nuances. And that's why I felt like the show was lacking. Also I think the very first preview set it up as an entirely different show (more supernaturalmystery/thriller) in my head, so there was a disconnect there as well.

Their next project was Moonlight Chicken where both of them shined as actors but negligibly as a BL pairing. Having said that, they seem to be on very solid ground in the BL fandom - I am referring to their fan meets.

Only Friends was a masterclass of acting as far as FirstKhaotung were concerned (i was all about Ray and Sand), but I think the overall reputation as show that fell flat on its face overshadowed or at least took away (for me) from the gravity of FK.

And now we're here. With The Heart Killers and I am very wary of how Ota all going down. I see that the final trailer got over million views and I'm happy for them, but based on I think the absolute travesty that was OF, my expectations for this show are on the ground.

I really want more of an insight into how projects are picked up and distributed inside GMMTV (if you ha e any, I'm dying to know). I feel like they would benefit greatly from being on a show like PS I Hate You or something like Peaceful Property.

It feels like they're backsliding in terms of material given. Which I am sure is a) not their fault and b) me possibly being weird and dramatic in the wee hours of the morning. But I wanted to get it off my chest and I was reading your previous reviews when I felt, and then gave into the impulse to write to you.

Also I'm a MaxTul girly too and somehow, you made me want to give Make it Right another chance.

Have a great week ahead and keep up the absolutely exceptional work! ❤️

NIHILISTIC! It's great to hear from you! And thank you for the compliments!

TW for girlies out there who are not Nihilistic: this post will contain criticisms of The Heart Killers trailer. Read at your peril, delicate hearts!

I'll go backwards to save the biggest stuff for last. If you write anything about Make It Right, please tag me! @bengiyo and I always give a little DJ air horn to each other when we've nabbed another one into the broader cultural reconsideration of this AMAZING show. MaxTul, man. Nobody beats them! (Okay, almost, Tul admits he wasn't the strongest actor, but. We'll let it slide, dahling!) Chemistry, humor, pride representation, everything, they're great. I yelped when I saw them in Triage!

Okay, so you are a FirstKhao girlie, and you're worried about what The Heart Killers bodes. (Out of transparency, I have The Heart Killers tag filtered because of Only Friends PTSD. I'm gonna filter my own post!) For you, Nihilistic, I just watched the trailer for it.

I will get to all your questions about the GMMTV model in a moment.

Now, out of even MORE transparency, I am watching the MESS that is Kidnap right now, and listen, it's NOT GOOD. I'm fucking not even writing about it anymore, I'm just reblogging the sessy gifs. I am watching it to support Ohm Pawat, and am hoping that this partnership with Leng Thanaphon will hopefully lead to better scripts.... somewhere. (Or at least, better scripts for Ohm at a place like One31 or Channel 3. I also hope Ohm keeps up his anti-branded pair stance, but if GMMTV forces him to pair permanently with Leng, it won't be a fucking surprise, and more on that below.)

To focus specifically on THK for a sec: the THK trailer evoked a lot of what's gone utterly wrong in Kidnap for me. I think writing Thai BL/Series Y scripts to be different, fresh, and innovative, is just going to be really fucking hard, especially for stories featuring branded pairs that MUST end up together in the end. Because we, the viewers, KNOW that they MUST end up together in the end, what kind of mystery and conflict can a script convincingly evoke to keep us, the viewers, engaged and interested in the drama?

A few of us Ohm girlies were excited that Kidnap could have had non-romantic plot points (CRIME!!!) to drive concurrently with a romance plot. There are Series Y that have done this BEAUTIFULLY, particularly Sammon's stories of Manner of Death and Triage.

I'm sorry to say that I didn't get that from the THK trailer, and that THK smells a lot like Kidnap to me. The trailer itself is giving an indication that the "jobs" these guys have as double agents are going to be compromised due to them falling in love. And after the debacle that was Jojo Tichakorn's Only Friends -- a show premised on the exploration of mean, icky, really horny humans, a great place to start an interesting show! -- knowing that THK will HAVE to end up in a romantic place, with FK and JoongDunk being in memorable and memeable entwinements... that's a lot to ask of a show that already isn't making sense by drive, emotion, and tone in its trailer alone. What matters more to these characters? Their work, or their need to be in monogamous relationships? Seems like the latter to me by way of the trailer, which makes me wonder what the point of the plot is. (Joong's chest, probably.) (Gahddayum.)

(I haven't watched the latest episode of Jack & Joker, btw, but I understand that THIS WEEK's episode is ALSO going through something similar, with dead-end and uncommitted plot points all to get to a kiss. Oy.)

To summarize these points and to touch at your question about how GMMTV chooses scripts: GMMTV has an economic model to sell in giving happy endings to their branded pairs, which I wrote about at length in my Old GMMTV Challenge rewatch of The Eclipse. No matter where a script goes, the ending must be memorable and monogamous to satisfy the retweeting hunger of the branded pairs' fandoms, in order for GMMTV's artists to increase online engagement and to maintain earned media values to sell products.

The wonderful @flowerbeasblog noted to me recently that Tha Sataporn, the CEO of GMMTV, said in an interview that as the productions of Series Y in Thailand continues to increase, there is a greater need for more scriptwriting talent across this niche genre, creating competition for more excellent writing. (By comparison, in the States, when streaming services like Netflix and Hulu starting commissioning more original series just about a decade ago, the demand for scriptwriters and excellent writing also went up by incredible scale -- only to come crashing down recently with pandemic and strike-related losses in revenue.) GMMTV's recently announced script competition, Y Find, updated itself last week with a notice that the company would need more time to sift through scripts to judge. In other words: the demand for creative plots is so high at this company that they are literally fielding entries from the general public.

At the same time, Tha Sataporn has been blunt in indicating that "good shows" are not the priority of his GMMTV, and that talent, management, and engagement are his indicators of success. So, economically -- as long as a show hits that happy ending, and gets the girlies excited online with commentary and purchasing power, then the studio has won, in GMMTV's eyes.

ULTIMATELY, Nihilistic: what we are dealing with regarding your concern, as fans and/or critics of Series Y shows, is a conflict of values, among critical fans like ourselves, other fans who only watch shows for romance and shipping, and the economic bottom lines of the studios/agencies themselves. Some of us just want narratively good scripts, like Bad Buddy or He's Coming To Me. Others are content with having a show end with their fave pairs confirmed together in the end, no matter the process of how they got there. Those are different values we hold in watching shows. I appreciate that while you're a fan of the FK branded pair, that you want stronger scripts for them. I do, too, but that's not a value that every fan -- and GMMTV itself -- holds. And I believe that's why we've been seeing more and more mediocre scripts from that studio in particular.

I actually want to note maybe something positive about FirstKhao. Other than The Eclipse, it seems like they haven't been locked into high school or university settings. Only Friends, Moonlight Chicken -- these are shows that show First's and Khao's characters as young adults, and THK is going there, too. I hope they can avoid the university settings as they continue to work.

Is stellar acting wasted at GMMTV? Oh, yes. Besides First and Khao, who I truly think are good actors, we have Gun Atthaphan, Nanon Korapat, and Ohm Pawat -- these three guys are on my list of the best Thai actors out there who have done BL, and they haven't had great scripts in years. (Gun, arguably, has had the best pickings of decent shows recently in Cooking Crush and The Trainee, but they weren't high art; and Nanon's Dirty Laundry was the last Jojo script I was truly impressed by.) All three of these guys were in MOVIES at one point. Those ambitions, on behalf of these actors by GMMTV, seem to have gone by the wayside in preference for a huge economic push to boost branded pair-based series insteads, with their plot holes and guaranteed romances.

I hope the genre's tide turns for the sake of quality scripts, especially at GMMTV, but my hopes are low for this agency at the moment. My joy in Thai shows recently has been in watching past shows for my OGMMTVC. I've been on a lakorn kick lately, having watched The Miracle of Teddy Bear and I'm looking forward to watching Khun Chai soon. Other agencies and studios, like One31 and Channel 3, are breathing down GMMTV's neck and producing more interesting shows, sometimes with branded pairs and sometimes not. Triage only came out two years ago, and that show's trilogy (along with Manner of Death) will end with this year's airing of Spare Me Your Mercy, starring the very likely one-time pair of Tor Thanabob and JJ (Jaylerr) Krissanapoom, two gigantic artists in Thailand who are circling BACK towards the much smaller genre of Series Y for SMYM's sake. I have VERY high hopes and expectations for that show -- and that show is well out of the purview of GMMTV.

I think what you're smelling about the THK trailer is right, Nihilistic -- to me, the trailer isn't cohesive, and jumps already to its forgone conclusion of a romantic end. Unfortunately, for those of us familiar with Jojo Tichakorn's work, we know that if he was given more leeway, he'd likely come up with something more interesting. But now that he has to work with branded pairs -- who are shipped in the eyes of their fan beholders -- he's got a lot less room to be creative and interesting, which ultimately stifles the otherwise excellent acting we'd see from these young men.

#thanks for the ask!#firstkhao #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #tw: criticism #the heart killers #jojo tichakorn #kidnap the series

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