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ssa-dado · 2 months 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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s0urw00lf · 5 months ago

Text

Accidents happen

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

Summary: You and Neteyam find solace in each other. Maybe a little too much…

Requested by anon

AN: girl i’m so sorry it took me so long to get this out, i was procrastinating. But i hope you like it and maybe ill do a part two???

The night was quiet, and the waves of the ocean were soothing the nerves going haywire in your stomach. As the next in line of tsahik your connection with eywa was deep, even more so than your mothers for a reason unknown to you. You couldn’t help but worry something terrible was coming but you had no idea whatsoever what it was, that’s why you sat at the edge of the village on a rock, dangling your feet into the water. The pit in your stomach was heavy with bad feelings that were unknown to you. The waves softly crashing into the rock was working wonders calming your nerves, this was the most relaxed you’d been in weeks. You were relaxed but still alert, which is why your ears perked up when you heard footsteps coming from behind you.

You discreetly grabbed your knife out of its sheath attached to your hip, and when the footsteps got close enough you whipped around holding your knife menacingly. At the sight of the familiar boy holding up his hands in surrender after letting a ‘woah’ slip out, you lowered your knife. “I apologize I did not mean to scare you” he apologized, after lowering his hands. You let out a sigh in relief, “it is okay, guess i wasn't expecting anyone to be awake at this time” you said, returning back to your seated position on the rock facing the sea. He nodded in understanding, both that you saw though nor did you really care. “May I join you?” He asked, making you turn your head to him. You pondered for a second before nodding and turning your focus back on the horizon.

You two sat in silence before he spoke “what are you doing awake anyway?”. You looked over to him thinking of an answer “I am not sure if i'm honest. Just needed some peace away from the hustle of the clan i guess” you said not really wanting to go into detail. “What about you forest boy” you teased lightly. He smiled at the nickname you and your sister had graced him and his brother with. “It reminds me of home,” he said, gesturing to the line of trees about ten feet away. You nodded, “do you miss it?” You asked in curiosity. “More than anything” he immediately answered. Your expression softened, “I can not imagine it, being torn away from everything I’ve grown to know and having to start all over, that must be so hard” you said in thought, the thought hurts just thinking about it. “I can not show how badly I miss home, I must be the example for my siblings. I have to like it here so they do” he frowned, dropping his head .“My parents would not let me know peace until I achieved every task with ease” you frowned at the thought.

Neteyam tilted his head in wonder “your parents are hard on you?” He asked. You almost let out a laugh “Of course, I am the oldest, I set the example I hold the future of the clan in my hands. And do not even get me started on when my brother disobeys its always my job to watch over him and take the fall though I don’t have to worry about it much with Tsireya.” You said, feeling irritation arise. Turns out Neteyam had the same problem with his father. “I did not know, I have the same issue with my parents and skxawng brother. It is so hard sometimes, being the perfect son. Making sure I’m doing everything right while keeping an eye out for my siblings and not disappointing my parents” he vented.

“Growing up I always looked out to my parents and how amazing they were. They are strong and great leaders and I wanted to be that too, but now looking back I don’t feel as if I am. My parents do not look at me like they do my siblings; like I’m their child. Instead it is as if I am a soldier. I must do everything right, pass every test and look graceful while doing it so I don’t scare off possible mates. And do not mistake me I love my siblings with everything in me but it is so hard, I just wish to freeze time sometimes so I can breathe.” You ranted, somehow finding out that you were not alone in this life made you feel better. Neteyam is not judging you for letting your guard down and wanting to be normal. He’s listening and understanding and that is what you needed at this point in time. You both sat in silence after your admission. He reached over and grabbed your hand and you looked down an your hands and entertained your fingers with his. “I- I have this feeling in my stomach, a bad feeling like something bad is coming.” You let it slip fiddling with his fingers. You didn’t know why he mad you fee so comfortable but you couldn’t complain. Your whole life you’d had up this strong front but he was able to tear it down in a matter of seconds. He lifted his other hand to gently grab your face. Your eyes met his and immediately you saw the softness in his eyes, you also saw how beautiful he was. The glowing dots on his face were beautiful at night. You had never really looked at him before but you were confused on how you couldn’t see how attractive he was. He began to lean in, your breath hitched and your heart rate picked up. “Is this okay” he asked, his breathe fanned over your lips. You nodded and connected your lips.

That night things happened. You were not proud of it, in fact the feeling in your stomach worsened. You and neteyam actively avoided each other, you were terrified for your parents to find out, scared that they would desert the sullys and disown you. You’d been a ball of stress walking around the clan, ‘what would they say? We aren’t even mated’ you wondered. A few days later you found out you were with child after your body had begun to reject your food and your heart practically stopped. You tried to find any way to be away from your family when you ate just so your mother wouldn’t connect the dots. Eyes why? Was this what she was warning you about? Was it meant to be this way?

One day when you were sitting on your ilu at the edge of the reef your siblings had shown up much to your surprise. “Sister, you’re avoiding us” tsireya said worried. You frowned getting defensive “im not, im busy completing my tasks” you lied quickly. Aounung gave you a look as if saying ‘really?’ “I am, okay? I have a lot to complete before the ceremony” you said. Tsireya shook her head “are you okay? Whatever it is you can tell us we wont tell. Even if mom and dad are getting suspicious” she said muttering the last part. At that your walls crumbled, tears filled your eyes and cascaded down your face, “they will hate me, i can’t tell them. You cant tell them” you begged tears still falling downy our face. They both nodded profusely. “I- i am with child” you admitted. Both of their faces mirrored horror, Aonung more angry and Tsireya just complete shock. “What were you thinking, you know mom and dad will-” your brother scolded but you cut him off “will do nothing because you wont tell. Right?” You asked. You both stared each other down and eventually he gave up sending you a nod. “Who?” Tsereya asked, you knew she didn’t want to finish the sentence. You hesitated looking down “neteyam”.

”sister tell me you are joking” tsereya said, her face again filled with horror. “Why would i joke? I was stupid and now i'm paying the price. Hiding it from my family, mom and dad would send them away, the cannot suffer for my stupidity. They can be as disappointed in me as they want, not like it's anything new.” You defended. “Does he know?” Your brother questioned. You shook your head “no”. He scoffed “every word that comes out of your mouth makes me question how we are related.” He said. You squinted your eyes at him in irritation. “What hes saying is maybe you should talk to him. Come up with a plan and go from there. He deserves to know. He is just as responsible as you” tsireya interrupted before an argument could break out. You frowned in thought. If he accepts it you wouldn’t be completely alone if your parents decided to rid themselves of you. You nodded, making your way back to shore to find neteyam not sure how you’d break it to him.

— with neteyam —

his family noticed he’d been acting weird. He started getting irritated easily his fuse was short and no one knew why. “Bro whats your problem” lo’ak asked, getting irritated at Neteyam attitude. “Nothing, lo’ak” he replied shortly, dropping the pile of nets he was told to bring home by an elder. He entered his family’s mauri pod noting that his parents were watching him not so discreetly, something they’d been doing since they noticed his odd behavior. “Did you get the nets?” Jake asked, neteyam wanted to yell or throw something or hit someone. “Over there sir” he said pointing to the entrance to the pod. “Kid i told you to drop it off with my ilu” Jake scolded, neteyam walked over to the nets and grabbed them, his ears pinned back and his tail swished impatiently. He tossed the nets on th ilu waiting at the dock. He re-entered the pod “now its with your ilu like you asked” he said irritation lacing his tone. The pod filled with a thick tension.

Everyone held their breath waiting for Jake to do or say something. Jake stood making his way to neteyam grabbing his arm harshly “Hey! What the hell is your problem boy? Huh?” Jake asked, neteyam could feel the anger radiating from his father and lowered his head in shame. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. Not in front of his siblings. Not in front of his father. He had to keep it together. But he couldn’t keep the tears from pooling in his eyes. He lifted his head to meet his fathers eyes. “No problem sir” he said.

Jake immediately noticed the tears brimming his eyes and his grip loosened. “May i be excused” neteyam asked, his voice didn’t give away the tears in his eyes, but Jake could see the pleading look in his sons eyes. Jake nodded, in shock having not expected to ever see his son on the verge of tears right in front of him. Neteyam quickly took his leave. Kiri and lo’ak followed quickly after him. Jake turned to neytiri still in shock. She looked at him with confusion, she couldn’t see neteyam ace over Jake’s shoulder. “He was on the verge of crying” Jake told her. Her eyebrows raised and the same question filled both of their heads ‘what the hell happened’

Lo’ak and kiri easily found Neteyam sitting with his hands in his head. “What happened” Lo’ak questioned, seriously this time. “And if you say nothing i will throw a rock at your head” kiri kinda but not really joked. Neteyam shook his head his hair swaying with the rhythm of his head. “I messed up” Neteyam admitted. Lo’ak folded his arms “what could you have done that bad” he asked. Neteyam looked up to his sibling who were standing right in front of him. “Y/n an di spent the night together” he said. The silence that followed after Neteyams confession was deafening. Lo’ak and kiri looked at each other with wide eyes, confirming that they both heard right. ‘Did you mate with her?” Lo’ak asked. Neteyam shook his head, the lump in his throat prevented him from speaking. He was terrified, if his parents find out he was sure his dad would skin him and his mom would do nothing to stop it, but eywa help him if your parents find out. His family was at risk of being kicked out all because of him and that guilt ate him alive. “Have you checked on her?” Kiri asked, sitting down beside him. “No, I do not think I can” he said. Kiri sighed disappointed. “You idiot brother of mine, she could be going through worse than you. Man up and go talk to her. We’ll take care of mom and dad for now.” Kiri said. “Yeah go, don't be a wuss” lo’ak joked patting Neteyam’s shoulder. He felt lighter knowing he had his siblings support, so he nodded, standing up and walking away. “He is so dead” Kiri said. “This puts me in the clear for the next 10 years” lo’ak smiled.

— back with you —

you found neteyam way quicker than you would’ve liked, his dark blue skin stuck out in the crowd of teal blue metkayina. You slowly approached him, his back was turned toward you and he looked as if he was looking for something. Or someone. “Neteyam” you called. You saw his tail still and body go rigid. He turned around towards you with wide eyes. “Y/n” he said. You both stared at each other, behind him you saw his siblings peeking from behind a rock. “You told them?” You asked softly. He nodded, “just kiri and lo’ak” he said. You nodded “i think we should talk” you said. Neteyams heart dropped. He was afraid of the possibilities. He nodded, “would you like to go somewhere more private?” he asked. You nodded and the two of you began to walk towards the place you’d met that night.

Once you were there and settled, your heart was racing “i- i do not know what to-“ you cut yourself off with a sob. The fear of the unknown was beginning to get to you. Neteyam grabbed your hands and shh’ed you “Mawey, breathe” he said. You nodded, trying to catch your breath. after a minut or so, your mind was a little clearer, thought you still didn’t know how to break it to him. “I’m with child” you said, it slipped out before you could stop yourself. This time it was neteyam who froze. He hadn’t even thought about this possibility. A child. His world felt as if he stopped spinning. “Neteyam we are only 16 years of age, how can we- we’re not even mated” your mind raced faster than you could talk. You wondered how you had known longer than him and was still the most worried between the two of you, he looked deeply in thought. “Maybe we could still go through with it but in a traditional way” he spoke.

you looked at him in wonder, urging him to continue. ‘We could do the ceremony, I will court you and we will mate before you start to show. When the baby comes it will be ‘early’ but healthy” he explained. You were shocked at how quickly he was able to come up with an efficient plan on such short notice. “That could work, but are you sure you wan-“ “i want nothing more, i mean i never planned on a child this early but we could make it work” he said with full sincerity. You nodded “okay, we can do it, but we should probably speed the process” you said. He agreed, pulling you in for a hug, you relaxed in his arms for the first time in a week. You felt like you could breathe again. Everything was gonna be okay, not to mention your mother secretly liked neteyam, so if he was trying to court you she'd accept it. And your father would just want you to pick someone who could protect you and nobody was more trained for that than neteyam. “We’ll be okay” you said leaning your head into his chest. He answered with a “yes”

#s0urw00lf #atwow neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x reader #avatar the way of water

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secretress · 7 months ago

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❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦. 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.❞

A love letter from your future spouse

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Pac Summary!

♡ A fs love letter.

♡ One angel number with an intuitive message/meaning of the number.

♡ Resonated channeled song and its lyrics with intuitive messages added to it.

Moodboard | Divider

Pile I

Hi love, hi sunshine.

What's up? How are you doing, my pretty flower? Well, in all honesty, I am awful with words, and a love letter is hard, but I will suck it up just to show my love for you.

Sometimes. When I look at the stars, I will think about you. Sometimes, when I glance at lily ponds, I will daydream about you. And sometimes when I call you, I fawn over the little things you do, because every little thing you do is incredibly beautiful and deserves to be fawn over.

Sometimes, when I struggle and miss your presence, I remember that I can always call you and ramble about the small things during my days. I can find that solace even if we are far apart... And sometimes that scares me because what if we lost touch with one another—that I would never get to see you? All of these doubts eat me alive, but then I hear your small laughs about my days, and all of them disappear.

Do you think one day we could start a family? Maybe I believe anything is possible—after all, I landed someone as perfect as you (psst, I manifested you). So the fact that I have you as my lover makes me wonder if I can ever have kids with you. We can adopt too; I don't care, but having biological kids with you would also be so lovely.. After all, everything about you is lovely. I am someone who always gives too much love to others, so if it's too much, let me know, but loving you is so easy. How can one stop that? That scares me.. If you ever told me to stop loving you so much, it would make me feel like I was losing a small part of myself. Quite frankly, I don't think I could ever deal with that—I just, I just couldn't.

When I looked at the sky the other day, I kept thinking about our connection. I know we don't know each other. Hell, I'm fucking daydreaming about you right now, but I really want to see you. Maybe one day we will meet each other, and when we do, I will become the happiest person alive. Because the idea of loving someone I am manifesting is something.. It's.. it's just. I can't express it with words, but it's definitely something so magical. Everything in my heart is fluttering with happiness because I get to see you smile in my presence. I always thought I wasn't worthy of love. Look at us. Fuck. Thank you for loving me.

Thank you (x5) for loving me.

Fs.

I was listening to Terrified by Katharine McPhee, and as I was editing your reading at "when I look at stars'' the song said, ''every word feels like a shooting star.'' So for those who have doubts about this relationship, do understand that this is really your confirmation.

Angel numbers: 1222

Meaning of 1222 through an intuitive message. 1 is usually associated with goals and what you're looking for. 2 is usually associated with reminding you that everything is going to be okay and that you are in the right place. Combining both of them, intuition says, ‘’you are in the right place. All the hard work you have been doing for yourself—all the shadow work that you have been journaling, all the beautiful messages you have been giving to yourself—is what will help you find your goals. Your ideas which you keep postponing are something that needs to be done. Stop procrastinating and do it right now. You will never know when the right time comes since it doesn't exist. Make it your right time.’’ Basically, intuition says there is no such thing as diving timing. Divine timing doesn't actually exist since it's all about healing and treating ourselves with kindness. It's all about what we do during those times we have during our isolation, or, in a positive sense, our resting period. Truthfully, since you are working on yourself and removing your inner demons for yourself and not for others (since I heard that a lot of people think you are doing it for a boy when you aren't), you can attract your future spouse with the speed of light and grab the fruits. The fruits are your manifestations or your wishes in life.

Channeled song:

Invisible - Hunter Hayes

‘’And you've been trying for so long / To find out where your place is.’’ This is about you trying to figure out where you belong. Intuition says people in your life believe all the hard work you are doing is for this man, your ex, or someone you used to have feelings for. The people in your circle are very close-minded, but deep down inside, the fear of letting go of these connections scares you, so you let them stay. If I were in your place, I would let them go since people like that don't deserve to be in my world. And I feel like some of you will say, ‘’yeah because you aren't dealing with it’’ and for those who have said that, lol, I just let go of a friend group like that 2-3 weeks ago. So let them go and realize all the beauty that will come out of it.

‘’And you're not invisible / Hear me out / There's so much more to life than what you're feeling now / Someday you'll look back on all these days / And all this pain is gonna be invisible.’’ This is your future spouse calling out to you and yearning for your love. They are letting you know that when you look back on your life, you are not only going to feel blessed with how your life went but also come to the realization that there is more to life than the negativity you are feeling and associating yourself with. This person is going to make you feel like magic, (which is something you deserve, and you cannot tell me otherwise).

‘’So your confidence is quiet / To them, quiet looks like weakness / But you don't have to fight it / 'Cause you're strong enough to win without a war.’’ Basically, intuition says your intuition and higher self are telling you, ‘’even though you are a quiet person. Despite you being timid, none of these are bad qualities; it makes you stronger because you are observing everything and you know others' deepest, darkest secrets through their behaviors. So don't let your skills go in vain.’’ To sum it up, if there is any confusion, people perceive quiet and shy people as fragile and needing help, but in reality, it could be that or they have no desire to speak to people that do not intrigue them or aren't worth their time. People don't see that because they are lost in fitting in with the crowd. Your higher self and my intuition are saying, don't fit in the crowd and do your own thing. Not only will that attract your fs but also heal your heart that you have been blocking with bricks to protect yourself from the pain your inner circle is causing and your deadbeat parent (I hear father, but I also believe it could be the mother for some).

‘’These labels that they give you is just 'cause they don't understand / If you look past this moment / You'll see you've got a friend / Waving a flag for who you are.’’ And lastly :), this is your fs telling you that they will always have your back no matter what. And they love you so fucking badly. Emphasis on so fucking badly, I could hear your fs tell me to add that in.

Masterlist ♡

Pile II

Hi, my love.

As your future spouse, it’s my duty to defend and honor our promises, but sometimes I mess up because I'm shy. I'm sorry in advance, but I try very hard, but I mess things up. Sometimes I feel like a child when you scold me.. I know sometimes you feel disappointed with the things I do, but I ask you.. As of now, please treat me with more dignity and respect. I'm human, just like you. Do you think a child deserves this treatment? No.

Okay, before I fully channel everything, this pile has toxic energy. You have caused your fs an insane amount of anxiety and trauma, so now that you are aware of this. Why don't you improve as a person? This person is absolutely soft and adorable, and they do not deserve that type of energy).

Sometimes, at night, I like to walk along the streams or near our pond area in our backyard and feel the coolness around my feet. The water tickles my feet gently, and the water droplet splashes around the soles of my feet. The feeling is so warm and relaxing, just like you once were. What happened to that? Why did you let them take away (your name's) golden heart? Why do I deserve the same treatment when I was by your side this whole time? I was never and will never be your enemy, so please change for the better. I want (your name) back; (your gender) was deserving of the greatest, and so am I. Please go back to them and let me honor my promise again. I wanted to protect you, but now it’s too hard. I cannot do it anymore. I am writing this love letter to you in the hopes that you change for the better. In hopes my words and my love being poured onto this can shift you and make you realize that you are now the reason I despise myself, the reason why I struggle to love myself. I don't want to stay in this stale situation; I want to move on, and I want you to move on and treat me better. So maybe.. I will now try to show you the love we felt when we met instead of now. Since you feel like poison.

When we danced in the park that one night, the moonlight shone on top of us. Like we were the main characters of a romantic movie. Do you remember that feeling when we were laughing together and I finally saw you smile? That happiness shattering your stoic face—it was incredible. I realized that that was the moment I fell in love with you. My heart jumped out of my chest that day. Do you remember when we had small dates with each other and you bought me something small? You thought I wouldn't wear it because of your ex(es), but I did, and your eyes widen. Do you remember that softness appearing on your face that day? I remember it vividly. I blushed that day and hid it with a cough. Do you remember me constantly coughing that day, and you wondered why this was happening? Do you remember how I kicked your shoes and said it was an accident so you could look under the table and not notice me covering my flushed face because of that facial expression you had? The realization that someone did, in fact, love you. God, I remember that feeling so well. It made me so happy. I remember all of these small moments with you, and I know that you will. One day, it will happen just as it should.. But then something happened: you shut everyone away, especially me, and sabotage everything at the end because it was better to be a cold-hearted bitch than stay and let me protect you. Please, (your name), realize that I love you despite what you have done to me. I can forgive you; I really can, but I want your real self back. Let me love them, let me shower them with compliments; just let me back in.

I forgive you,

Fs.

So this is written in past and future tense. Of course, these dates haven’t happened for you, however, I wasn’t able to channel them from a present perspective for the majority of the letter. They were focused on pouring their love on you without thinking. It was a desperate call for you to change and not become cold. And for many of you, not for you to become the one thing you hated. So instead, learn to heal your open wounds and better yourself instead of being an ass in the future.

Angel number: 777.

Usually, 777 is associated with good luck, or good luck and prosperity are heading your way. However, intuition says, ‘’despite good luck (your fs) coming your way, allowing those icky thoughts to reappear constantly in your head is what will mess things up in the future with your fs. In order to remove these thoughts, work on your inner feelings and improve yourself. Do not allow evil to invade who you are as a person, and instead, allow the kindness that you still have to shine upon you and shield you from the dangers of others. Become the person you desire and still love. Do not become them, you will be miserable.’’ So, basically, working on your inner feelings is healing your inner demons. Everyone deals with them, but it’s our responsibility to actually take care of them and make them angels, or, in this case, remove them from your system. Taking care of them or removing them, however you see fit, is all about being kind to yourself and removing the high standards you have for yourself. And in order to be kind to yourself, think of your favorite person, object, whatever, and think, ‘’would I be a jackass to them/it?’’ No, you would treat it or them with respect and love because it’s your favorite thing. Think of it like that with yourself. You can use your kindness to protect yourself. Usually, kindness has a bad reputation because people who are kind either become people pleasers, get taken advantage of, etc., but you could always balance your kindness and rational thoughts so you don’t get hurt like your future self did. Because this situation has not occurred yet, as of now, try to balance those two out. Also, imagine that (your favorite color) aura or bubble is surrounding you and protecting you from evil.

Channeled anime:

Death Note

I am aware this is completely different, and you were promised a song, but I wasn’t able to do that as Light from death note kept appearing in my mind. For those who are watching this, ignore this since there are spoilers, and if you are still curious, I’ll keep it as vague as I can.

(Please, remember, this is about your future self. Not your present self).

The reason my intuition mentioned an anime instead of a song is how Light, the main character, became the person he hated. This is what you have become. His desires were to protect the innocent, but ultimately he did the opposite. As time goes on throughout the show, he starts to become power-hungry, but in your case, it’s a lust for isolation. He saw everything as a game, and with you, you used your kindness as an advantage to abuse your spouse (I know you are saying you would never, but you did in the future). And also, hurt your friends to gain advantages or small tokens of something to get ahead of life and get whatever you want. Not only, in the future, do you break your morals, lose your respect from others and your inner child, but fuck things up all for power. Power, isolation, and hatred for what others did to you. Do you believe this is worth it just because you were hurt? Why do you want to hurt people who didn't do anything? You got hurt, sought revenge on those who didn't hurt you, and became like your abusers. Your future self keeps mentioning, ‘’karma’s a bitch.’’ And yet, how can it be if it’s aimed at those who cannot do much? I know you want to be protected and understood, but how can you if you allowed this to occur and pushed those away who were, in fact, protecting you but in the shadows? Use this as your guide and change for the better since fate doesn’t exist, not really. And if you believe in it, then change your fate. Become your own guide and improve. Because your energy will be awful, the way you have treated others in the future will be awful, and I feel the anxiety radiating off of you—you don't like who you have become in the future. So, don't change, protect yourself instead.

Masterlist ♡

Pile III

Hi sun, hellooo to my sun. Hi, hi, hiiii, hi.

I’m saying a lot of hi to you because I'm ecstatic to be around you. Your personality makes me very happy, yay. You're reading this right now, so lucky me. I just have to say this: I wish right now you were with me so I could run to you, jump into your arms, and peck you like a goose, and if you ever become sick with me, well, you can't! I won't allow it, so that means you can’t pick someone else; only me, me and drum roll, please! Me!

I really love talking to you–OH wait, well, we haven't met yet, but I do! We will stay up all night talking to each other, and the thought makes me giggle~ You are my favorite sun person… Well, I know you are going to call me the sun, but nope! I am the star around the moon waiting for you, so when you go up and chase your ambitious goals, I am at home rooting for you. Sorry, I'm a homebody, so I don't like going out so much, but I'll go out just for you! That is how special you are; of course, I can't really explain it through this letter, so we have to meet first! With that being said, you are the sun because you brighten up my world and everyone around you. I know right now you are feeling depressed, but fear not! I am coming; actually, psttt, I am dashing towards you like Sonic, and if Mario had a baby, wait. NO WAIT, I MEANT IF SONIC AND THE FLASH HAD A BABY OMG NOOO IM SORRY. As I was saying, coughs if Sonic and the flash had a baby together—that’s how fast I am coming to–ru–RUNNING TO YOU, FUCK IM SORRY. I'M SO EXCITED, I KNOW I DON'T HAVE TO APOLOGIZE BUT I AM EXCITED. Anyway, as I am saying, I am running to you if the flash and Sonic had a baby together, because that’s how fast I am, and in other places, if you know what I mean, raising my eyebrows in a funny but sexy way.

Oh, that reminds me, btw: don't eat green apples when we meet because you're going to choke on them and die! No, I am joking about the die part, but you do choke a lot, and I become very scared because we are friends at that time, and well, I think youre going to die, but I know that you aren't, but I think you might, so it scares me and I can't handle it, and now I am rambling, but you get the point, so no apples for a week, so that means you are kind of like a horse on a diet... Even though they eat apples, imagine that you are a horse who can't eat apples! Yes!!! Oh, wait, why would you be a horse? Okay, wait, it doesn't matter because you are my horse, so that makes me a princess/prince and therefore you gotta protect me. Wait.

This is a love letter, NOOOOOOO, wait. Lets start! I love you so much. You make me so happy that I can ramble on for no reason, and you are enjoying every part of it. Thats why I like things about you because you listen to me and hear me out, and you make me happy. I am rambling again, but this time it doesn't matter because it's all abouttttt yooooouuuuu. Yeah so i love you A LOT and YOU mean the WOOOORRRRLLLLDDDD to me and thank you for being–THANK YOU FOR–WAIT. I AM GLAD THAT I WILL MEET YOU, SO THEN THANK YOU FOR BEING IN MY WORLD. All this present and future stuff is making my head spin, like those anime drawings of the characters or the other animations or drawing pieces you see on websites or drawing platforms. Oh yeah, did you know that I am an artist? Yeah, me neither, thats because you taught me how to draw gremlin laugh, but yeah, cya later!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The bestestttt (not a word i know that shut up, grumpy face) perrrrrrssssssoooooooonnnnn evvvvveeeeeerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!! Ya gal/lad is outie five thousand!

I kept feeling rambling and childlike wonder with your future spouse. You make them very comfortable with who they are as a person, and with this, they can channel their inner child with you. You will show them new hobbies, and because of this, in the future, it will become their career. So despite this, if some of you are not artists, you will be opening a new world for them in the art field because art isn’t only drawing, animation, etc.; it does have music or poetry involved.

Angel number: 1313.

On an energy level, the number symbolizes a goal you had in mind shifting and transforming into your reality because you were able to trust your gut feelings and allow things to come into your nature. You used to be afraid of change or those who gave you things; asking for help scared you. Now you are healing toward that goal and learning to let go when people help. You are able to prioritize things that make you happy, even if it’s a one-time thing, because chasing things does become hard, but knowing now that you are able to get the things you want makes you blessed. You embody the attitude of gratitude, and from now on until the end of August, things will come in abundance. Keep embodying this attitude to further it until the end of the year. When the end of the year comes, make more goals for yourself, but find goals that are worth what you are looking for. Understand who your higher self is, and ask them what goals helped them become who they are now. Your higher self isn’t necessarily your future self; you worked hard to become your desired self. So make sure you learn what is actually important for you while also listening to the same gut feeling that you have. People say 13 in general is an unlucky number. Still, some people ditch their ideas on the number and make it their favorite number. Intuition says not to follow people’s guidance when it comes to things that don't make sense; don’t follow the crowd if it’s not something you are actually agreeing on or intrigued with. Make sure to follow what you believe in, and if people find that to be stubborn, then who cares? Make sure you do things that make you happier in the long term before you meet this ray of sunshine.

Channeled Song:

Sunsetz - Cigarettes after sex

‘’Strangely, there's nobody else around / So you open your dress and show me your t*ts / On the swing set at the old playground / And when you go away I still see you / The sunlight on your face in my rearview.’’ Aside from the 18+ nature of the song, the minute I heard it play, I knew it was from your future spouse. As we are aware, they are full of light and embody a star nature; this song beat felt the same way. When the song said, ‘’Strangely, there's nobody else around / So you open your dress and show me your t*ts’’ I heard your future spouse laugh at this because, despite their gender, they are prone to being open about the sexual world. And the idea of showing their chest to you makes them excited. Of course, this isn’t an 18+ reading, so I cannot add more. ‘’On the swing set at the old playground / And when you go away I still see you’’ is about them showing you all of their childish nature and you accepting them. Because I hear your future spouse mention, ‘’thank you very much for accepting me for who I am. I had many people ignore me or disrespect me constantly because I had to act my age. But you were the only one in the entire worrrrrldddd to accept and love me without expecting anything.’’ Also, intuitively, they are always going to daydream cute scenarios with you and see you as a cutie despite your rough nature. Because everywhere they go and explore the depths of the world, you will have to accompany them. In the flesh or not. They will daydream you near them if you cannot make it or if it's a long-distance relationship (for some).

‘’A love that nobody could destroy / Took photographs like Brautigan's book covers / That we both adored.’’ So, I feel a lot of third parties coming into this relationship on their side. A lot of people are jealous of them and cannot handle the fact that they finally found someone who appreciates their true qualities. So a lot of toxic people will try to sabotage the friendship at first and then eventually the relationship, and they are naive, so they might believe it, so be careful with that. Eventually, though, I do see them realizing it, and the fact that you stayed makes them love you harder, hence all the ramblings (you making them comfortable to do so). Both of you are going to take a lot of pictures together and post them on social media, whereas those who don’t use social media often will make collages out of them and decorate them around their room or apartment. Some will hide it from their parents, and others will boast about it positively. Just stay careful, because you never know other people’s intentions with it. ‘’That we both adored.’’ This just shows how healthy and beautiful the relationship will become for you when they ask you out. I feel a lot of you always ask other people out, and you have mentioned it to them once, so the idea of asking you out makes them happy because it’s removing a boulder off your shoulder. All I will say is that they will be the reason why you find true happiness since a majority of you are chasing the idea of happiness. With them, you can feel it and keep it; it’s not a one time thing; this leads to a beautiful thing. I’ll stop here since I don't want to give you any spoilers about it.

Masterlist ♡

Pile IV

Tw: Abuse

Hi, my dear,

Right now, I have been feeling down in the dumps. Things have been tough, very tough. Lately, I have been struggling to find happiness in my life. And I was praying for something, anything to feel something. But nothing came through, this broke me further. Then I started to realize something.. Why should I ask someone for help when I can do it myself?

So that is what I have been doing. I'm working on myself, so when we meet, you have someone you can be devoted to. I know it sounds like I'm not actually taking care of myself, but I am. And it sounds like I am only working on myself for you, as if all of this is for you and not me; some of it is partially true, but at the same time, I am thinking of myself. It’s important that you do the same thing, because I know you like to do things for other people but don't.

You know, I see you struggling to get your job or homework done. I am in the same boat. We are the same after all. I think it’s special that we are on the same path, the same journey, and most of all, the same love level. We both had it rough with a lover, but you know what? We can make that our special bond; I'm not saying that is what our relationship is about—I'm saying it could connect us further and see where everything takes us. You know how people bond over something negative, and that makes them fall for one another? I don't want that. (I hear them laughing and then smiling). All I am saying with my gibberish words is that sometimes people use their trauma to bond with each other, but they can like other things. Does that make sense? Sorry, love, I'm absolute garbage with words. Everything is a mess, isn't it? Again, sorry. Now, I want to start with the actual love letter.

Dear (your name),

Our future is bright. It’s beautiful. I will be the one to shower you with all the riches and luxuries in the world, and all I ask for is your beautiful heart. The heart that you have hidden from the world from all the negativities you were given isn't you anymore. We are connected like one. This is your reward for still staying sane. I know everything as of now is complicated, but do know I will find you one day, have a rose in my hand, and ask you to be mine. I know that sometimes you doubt if I will ever come, but remember that those who wait have the best rewards. Sure, I sound arrogant, but no, I know my worth in the future, and I know you will too. It’s okay to appear arrogant; what matters is on the inside. People's judgment is useless, just like their opinions of us. So don't focus on their chaotic and negative words; focus on what I tell you. I want to guide you and make you love yourself so much. Even when you know your worth, let me show you all that you can know. I want to marry you one day. I want to bathe you with all of my love. I want everything from you, and I will give you everything. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. I know that we haven't met, but I will say the same thing because it’s the truth. This is why I love you, (your full name). Thank you for being my blessing and for being my princess (regardless of your gender).

Take care with lots of love,

fs.

Angel number: 2266

2 is about being in the right place, and whoever you believe in is telling you that you shouldn’t worry. 6 is about mental diet, focusing on the positive to align you with your higher self. Whenever negative thoughts appear, remind yourself that this isn’t good for you. Negativity isn't good for anyone. Remind yourself that you are deserving of love. Learn to heal with patience and care. If you force yourself to heal, you never will. Forcing ourselves isn’t consistency; it’s abuse. Sure, sometimes it looks like it helps us, but then we stop doing it and relapse into the same loop. Do you like to be controlled and forced by others? I doubt it. Don't do the same thing; you are not deserving of it. What you are deserving of is love. Give yourself the love you deserve and need. It's important that you prioritize yourself instead of others' needs since people come and go, and don't be the one to let yourself go for someone else. It's not worth it, and your love and presence aren't determined by whether someone appreciates the good deeds you do for others. Your worth is dependent on what you do for yourself, so if you believe taking time for yourself and doing something for yourself is selfish, then it's selfish. But would you say the same thing to the people you work your ass off for? No, don't be a hypocrite to yourself.

Channeled song:

Therapy Session - NF

‘’My music is violent, you gotta be kidding me. I guess that your definition of violence and mine is something that we look at differently.’’ This is your fs telling you to start looking at things differently. You always see the good in people, even when they make a mistake. Even when they piss you off, even when they hurt you (not by accident), you always forgive them without a second thought. Don't do that, it’s hurting you just like it’s hurting them. ‘’Do you honestly want to be stuck in quicksand all the time? Don't do that, princess. I cannot handle it.’’

‘’How do you picture me, huh? Want me to smile? You want me to laugh? You want me to walk on the stage with a smile on my face. When I'm mad and put on a mask? For real though!’’ This is how both of you feel. Always wearing a mask and acting around for other people’s entertainment. It’s not worth it to put on a mask unless you have to protect yourself. Intuition says that you do, but remember to be careful. Do not do things that you cannot control, so if someone says otherwise and then threatens you because you didn’t. Then try to not allow them to step on you and subtly mention something to get their insults away from you. For example, intuition says, ‘’when you see them talking crap about you, don’t allow it. Stand up for yourself with something small. If they say how disgusting or how ugly you looked today, tell them that you disagree, and that’s it. Keep in mind that protecting yourself isn’t always causing war with one another, but saying something like this can stop a lot of issues and keep it as if you are having a normal conversation.’’

‘’I am aware it's aggressive. I am not here for acceptance.’’ Your future spouse is telling you to stop seeking acceptance from the people you help. Learn to seek acceptance from yourself. That is the person you have at the end of the day. Intuition is telling me some of you are a system (DID). So intuitively speaking, rely on your protectors. Ask them to take care of you and help guide you when people are rude to you. I know controlling and altering isn’t like control, but intuition says, ‘’ask them. Let them know how you are feeling, and ask them like a friend. It’s okay to vent to them; they want to help you after all. Those who do not accept you because of what you went through are not worth your time or the value you place on them. You are deserving of more, but you must allow it to come through.’’

‘’Apparently he likes to beat on her mama. I got so angry inside. I wanted to tell her to give me his number. But what you gon' do with it right? You gon' hit him up then he'll start hitting her harder.’’ This is your life. Your energy. It can be switched where your mom beats your dad, stepdad. Your grandparents, etc. Your future spouse will be protecting you from them, (and yes, they will love you despite having DID, loves. Don’t worry). Except instead of the abuser hitting your guardian more or you, they won’t allow it. I am hearing a cop signal sound, so it’s possible that they will beat your abuser endlessly and get your abuser to jail (this is for some), and on the other hand, expect someone who is going to love you dearly and protect you from the “wicked witch of the west. I’ll protect you with all of my heart, and my soul is yours as your soul is mine.’’

Masterlist ♡

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darlinluxx · 4 days ago

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𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : none

a/n : ty for all the love <3 i have so many works i can’t wait to post

summary : happiness is a butterfly and you seemed to catch it when you’re in the arms of your girlfriend

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the room. it was a gentle lull of normalcy, a sound Saebyeok was still learning to trust. beside her, asleep, was you.

You were the opposite of everything Saebyeok had come to know. you were warmth to her, a flickering candle in the desolate landscape of Saebyeok’s past.

Saebyeok watched you, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of her lips. your hair was splayed across the pillow, framing a face so peaceful it almost felt surreal. your breathing was shallow and even, a comforting rhythm in the silence. Saebyeok traced a stray strand of hair away from your cheek with a finger, the simple act sending a jolt of warmth through her.

you two had been slow, cautious, building this fragile sanctuary brick by brick. Saebyeok finding you had been an accident, a chance encounter in a poorly lit bookstore. she didn’t know how she got so lucky that you accidentally spilled coffee on her.

the two of you started with timid conversations, hesitant smiles, and stolen glances. it had been you who gently coaxed her out of her shell, your patient understanding a balm to Saebyeok’s fractured soul. you had never pushed, never pried, simply offering a hand, a shoulder, and now a quiet space.

now, here you were, two women who found solace in the simple act of existing alongside each other. Saebyeok carefully shifted, pulling you closer to her, wrapping her arms around your waist. you murmured softly in your sleep.

Saebyeok held you tighter, feeling the warmth of your body seep into her own. she had always been alone, always fighting, always surviving. now, for the first time, she felt a different kind of strength, a strength derived not from resilience, but from love.

she closed her eyes, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest lull her into a state of quiet peace. she knew the past would always be a part of her, a shadow lingering in the corners of her mind. but now, she also had the light, the beautiful, unwavering light that was you.

she kissed the top of your head, a silent promise whispered on her lips. she would protect this, she would cherish this. she had fought so hard to survive all her life, and when you were in her arms, she finally felt like she had something worth fighting for.

the hum of the air conditioner continued its gentle song, a background to the quiet symphony of your shared existence. and as the sun began to paint the sky with the soft hues of dawn, Saebyeok fell asleep, finally at peace, holding the woman she loved so dearly in her arms.

#kang sae byeok #kang saebyeok #sae byeok #saebyeok #kang sae byeok x reader #kang saebyeok x reader #sae byeok x reader #saebyeok x reader #squid game x reader #squid game

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aventurineswife · 12 days ago

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Clingy vidyadhara reader x sunday like that one picture of the snake wrapped around the bird that went viral a while back lol

“Let it be for now”

Summary: In a moment of quiet solace aboard the Astral Express, Sunday and you, a newly-reborn Vidyadhara, find comfort in each other's presence. Still adjusting to your second life after a harrowing transformation, you lean into Sunday, seeking warmth and connection. As you sit together in silence, Sunday reflects on the fragility of the dream he is striving to create, while you share a quiet understanding of the need for mutual support. In the intimacy of your shared space, both of you find peace, if only for a fleeting moment.

Tags: Sunday x Vidyadhara!Reader, Emotional Comfort, Fragile Relationships, Rebirth, Intimacy, Soft Moments, Vulnerability, Connection.

Warnings: Light emotional themes, Subtle tension in personal boundaries.

A/N: I don't think I've seen it... 😭

The gentle hum of the Astral Express echoed through the hallways, the rhythm of its motion almost soothing in its predictability. Yet, in the quietest corners of the train, a different kind of stillness lingered. Sunday, the ever-dignified former leader of the Oak Family, sat on a plush seat by the window, his eyes staring out into the endless expanse of stars, a far-off look on his face. His wings were tucked neatly behind him, but there was a subtle tension in their soft, silver feathers that suggested they were not at ease.

You, a newly-reborn Vidyadhara—still adjusting to your second life after a harrowing hatching—sat beside him, watching his every move with a quiet intensity. Your newly emerged form, still tender and unsure, craved the warmth of connection. The world seemed vast and overwhelming after the transformation, your past lives slipping away like fading echoes, leaving you disoriented and fragile. But Sunday’s presence, though often aloof, was a constant comfort. There was something about the way he always seemed to be there when you needed him, as if he understood the loneliness that came with being reborn.

And so, here you were, curled up beside him, your sharp, pointed ears flicking every now and then in the silence. There was no need for words; you simply leaned into his side, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence.

Sunday blinked, his gaze softening as he glanced down at you, his ethereal halo flickering slightly in the dim light. A small, imperceptible sigh escaped his lips.

"Are you... comfortable?" he asked, his voice gentle, as if not wanting to disturb the fragile peace.

You nodded, a slight smile tugging at your lips. You were small in this form, vulnerable, and in need of comfort, a stark contrast to the powerful, graceful being you once were. But in Sunday’s presence, you felt safe, as though he was a protector of sorts—a keeper of dreams, as much as you were.

You shifted closer to him, your tail curling slightly around his waist as you sought a more secure position. Sunday’s wings twitched in response, and though he rarely showed it, you could tell that he was struggling with the pull of your proximity. His natural inclination to distance himself clashed with the undeniable softness of your touch.

Without warning, you pressed your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his clothes. His breath hitched ever so slightly, but he did not pull away. Instead, his arm instinctively wrapped around you, holding you close as if the very act of doing so brought him peace.

"You know," Sunday began, his voice low and contemplative, "the dream is fragile, isn’t it? The world we hope to create… sometimes it feels like I’m holding onto something that could slip away at any moment." His fingers gently brushed through your hair, his touch careful and deliberate. "But with you here… it feels like maybe, just maybe, there's something worth fighting for."

You nuzzled closer to him, your own thoughts spiraling in a similar direction. You too struggled with the weight of your rebirth, the dissonance between your past lives and this new existence. But in his arms, those fears seemed to dissipate, leaving only the warmth of the present moment.

"I think… I think we both need this," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, the soft vibration of your words blending with the hum of the ship. "We need each other to keep the dream alive. Even if it's just for a little while."

Sunday's expression softened, and for once, the calm facade he wore seemed to break just a little. He leaned his head against yours, closing his eyes as the quiet intimacy wrapped around you both like a cocoon. His wings fluttered ever so slightly, brushing against your cheek as if to acknowledge the shared connection.

"Then let it be," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Let it be for now."

In the silence that followed, you both found comfort in each other’s presence, a fragile peace settled between your hearts. The stars outside continued to dance, and within the safe confines of the Astral Express, the two of you held onto that fleeting moment—a moment of warmth, of connection, of hope.

And perhaps, just perhaps, that was enough.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #sunday #vidyadhara #emotional comfort #fragile relationship #rebirth #soft moments #intimacy #vulnerability #connection

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kuwanxs · 3 months ago

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jjk 271 has convinced me that no famous piece of media can ever have a tolerable fanbase.

To start off, Gojo’s death was actually very beautifully done and not once have i believed that he should’ve come back. One thing that Gojo strived for after Geto’s defection was to create a Jujutsu society that wouldn’t corner their sorcerers as mere weapons and take away their youth. He was a firm believer of the fact that honing strong students would reshape and shake the very foundation of jujutsu society.

We know of Gojo’s inherent weaponisation. But it is not only Gojo who undergoes this objectification and weaponisation, it is actually every sorcerer in the jujutsu society. We don’t see Nanami, Yuki, Gojo or even Yaga get a funeral. It is because of two prominent reasons. One being the fact that the jujutsu society was built upon such shallow beliefs that the death of these sorcerers was simply brushed aside as a common occurrence. They are not offered a “funeral” or a memorial simply because these sorcerers are mere weapons to the jujutsu society and the death of a weapon simply concludes its existence and its period of serving. It is to be discarded, not mourned over, for it is simply a weapon. But another, surprisingly kinder reason, is offered to us by the narrative. As Todo Aoi says, “Grieving over the departed can tarnish their memories. Instead we must carry their will forward.” Through this we are allowed to finally understand the reason for the innumerable Gojo flashbacks during these last few chapters.

Gojo is a character who suffered from loneliness and isolation in his own unique way. It was never something that held him back yet he expresses his want to not be forgotten in the last conversation he had with Yuji. He also expresses his firm belief in his students rather than himself because he is aware that even if HE loses his students won’t. This completely changes the meaning of the infamous “Nah I’d win” panel because he wasn’t talking about his solo victory, but rather his victory as a teacher who raised sorcerers to be stronger than him and of the victory his students would achieve for him.

For a character like Gojo who wants not to be forgotten, Sukuna offers him the much needed solace of remembrance. “I’ll never forget you.” Sukuna ensures that Satoru and the very narrative make note of his choice to remember the sorcerer for the rest of his life. The two strongest sorcerers who exist as complete anti parallels to each other in both ideals and beliefs find a common ground in their shared loneliness that comes with being the strongest.

Satoru’s death was a very deserving and beautiful end for his character. He died while being acknowledged and remembered. He passed on to go south, back to his old self where his happiest memories lay, no other ending would be greater for Satoru Gojo than this.

Secondly, the interpretation of Sukuna and Uraume’s relationship. There was no context given as to who they used to be or where their uncanny companionship stemmed from, throughout the story we only see them as entities of the present, not getting a look into their dynamic during the heian era. The only few panels we get during Yorozu’s part just reestablish Uraume as a dutiful and faithful servant to their lord. So to see Sukuna display such tenderness towards them in the last chapter kind of dismantles our idea of their relationship. Mahito says Sukuna sought revenge for the execution of “that wench.” Then further, Sukuna explains how he had two paths, one with a black haired woman and one with Uraume, he chooses the one with Uraume to begin their lives anew.

In the conclusion of their story, Gege’s choice to keep Sukuna and Uraume’s joint past unexplained was a clever choice to not tarnish the sanctity of their relationship. It allows the reader to interpret their dynamics in whatever way they wish to. Because what is more important than the nature of their relationship, is Sukuna’s openness to understanding and partaking in the act of “love.” You may see it as parental, familial or romantic, it is not the nature that holds significance, it is the act itself.

Personally I like to picture Sukuna as a guardian or authoritative figure who took in Uraume with a guardian like intent to raise them and in this new life, will be able to nurture them with love. But again, the ending is quiet open for everyone’s own interpretation. Its just that i feel for Sukuna, a character who refused to believe in the very concept of love, a guardian-like role would be truly grounding as it wouldn’t impose conditionality on them, like a romantic relationship does. However, as i said, the nature matters less than the act itself.

To argue over the nature of their relationship is simply stupid. People are allowed to have their own interpretations of unspecified relationships, and creating unnecessary arguments over the validity of your own interpretation of their relationship takes away from the very essence of Sukuna and Uraume’s ending.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satosugu #sukugo #jjk 271 #uraume #jjk uraume #love #analysis

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months ago

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aggressive coping

I know I don’t mention this much but I feel the need to bring it up now (since the last book 7 update was the Octavinelle one) 😂

Is anyone else like… disappointed by how much Jade’s UM got seriously nerfed??? Shock the Heart has so many limitations. Firstly, it requires eye contact. Plus, it can only use it ONCE per person. Even then, it is not guaranteed to work since it fails on people who are on high alert and those under his UM's influence can still refuse to answer questions demanded of them. How am I supposed to believe Jade somehow has enough magical capacity to attend a prestigious school like NRC?????? (Especially when you consider that it may entirely be possible to substitute his UM for just slipping someone a truth serum or something.)

Some low magic mages like Fellow can use his UM multiple times, even letting his UM seemingly "stack" (and thus enhance its effect). And this is FELLOW, a character whose backstory involves him being rejected from magic schools, who scoffed at his low level of magic. So... Jade, who has enough magic capacity to attend NRC, one of the most prestigious arcane academies, has a weak as heck UM while Fellow, who has so little magic he doesn't qualify for much less prestigious arcane academies, has a UM that has multiple uses that enhances its power with each cast?????????? OKAY????????? And not only that, but many of Jade's classmates have much more advanced and complicated UMs too (look at Jamil with his MIND CONTROL 🤡 which hurts the victim the more they resist) or can essentially spam their UM (stares at Silver). So how come Jade is like the ONLY person who only has a one-time use UM????? Of all UMs, is this really the only one the devs thought would be overpowered???? I understand that there will naturally be variance in the power and abilities of each mage, but it still feels like he really got the short end of the stick...

I... guess the nature of the UM makes sense with Jade's crafty nature??? Because the limited usage for it reinforces and informs Jade's caution and strategizing for the instances in which he actually breaks out his UM. BUT THE ISSUE IS THAT THE VERY SAME COULD BE ACHIEVED IF HE HAD AN UNLIMITED NUMBER OF USES. Jade could still be wary about using Shock the Heart frequently because it could allow others to catch on to what his UM does... and if they're alert around him or avoid looking him in the eyes, it makes his UM fail anyway. I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY THE DEVS WOULD DO HIM SO DIRTY LIKE THIS OTL J word doesn’t deserve this injustice, LET HIM BE A MENACE

The only bit of solace I have and cling onto is that maybe MAYBE Jade was lying to us all along about how limited his UM is (I have no reason to believe this is canon since, even as late as the dire circumstances of book 7, Jade keeps describing his UM as single use only and can’t seem to exceed the single use rule even in a dream)💀 He can use it as many times as he likes, he’s just deceiving us about the one time use to lure the few people who do ultimately find out about his UM into a false sense of security… or maybe his UM is still developing and could become stronger over time??? Cuz like. Why chide Floyd for casually telling others about his UM but then Jade ALSO just casually tells us about his UM... That’s my (delusional) non-canon compliant headcanon 😤

#twisted wonderland #twst #Fellow Honest #Jamil Viper #Jade Leech #Silver #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #book 7 spoilers #Floyd Leech #Tweels

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acciotaitlynn · 17 days ago

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˖⁺‧₊˚✦ During Love and Deepspace's "Beyond the Code" event, beloved characters gain newfound consciousness, leading Zayne to face a startling truth. The people he's saved, the lives he's safeguarded, even those he couldn't—all of it, a lie. In a world where the only familiar element is your presence, Zayne must decide if your bond is enough to cling to, or if he requires something more to stay in this world...

₊ ⊹ Self-aware: Zayne

Part 1: Xavier

⟡ sexual content, 18+, fem reader, depictions of blood/gore, light stalker themes (he’s just scared to say hi 😩) Zaynie's falling for lil ole nurse u ✿ 😭 he's such a softy, fingering, it's implied this is Zayne's first time (he was literally just birthed u guys, cut him some slack)

🌟 This is the 2nd fic in my self-aware series. Xavier's delves deeper into the event's plot ♡ This story is a bit deeper than Xav's. I feel like it would be challenging for a sentient Zayne to come to terms with the fact he's a fictional character. He's done so much good and cares for ppl so deeply that it would likely feel like a betrayal. This narrative focuses on his struggle with that concept. and, of course, if he were to come to life, banging him would be inevitable ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

⟡ 5.5k

The day Zayne's life ends begins like any other, with the sun rising as he sets out for his morning jog. Faint cries of those teetering on the edge of death linger in his ears, the valley behind his eyes painted with a chilling scene—bodies scattered across the icy landscape like a frozen, sprawling tomb. Though he can’t recall witnessing their final moments, a persistent belief gnaws at Zayne, hinting that these souls met their demise by his hand. This dream has loomed for years, an unwavering presence, a melancholy shadow just beyond his understanding. In his ceaseless battle against the ominous figure presiding over the destruction, Zayne readied himself in medical gloves, resolved to save lives to offset the dread of those he fears he may have failed.

As his hands plunge deep into a patient’s cavity during a routine morning procedure, a glowing fissure materializes, ripping through the pristine walls of the operating room. The man’s heartbeat, a familiar rhythm Zayne would normally never overlook, fades into the background, receding like a distant memory. Despite every aspect of this moment vying for his attention, the opening’s energy seeps into his mind, into his bones, until it’s all he can see. For the first time in years, Zayne’s grip falters, his fingers trembling, losing hold of the scalpel as his focus shifts toward the doorway. Tentatively stepping forward, one shaky movement turns into another, the ground beneath his feet pulsating gently as if guiding him toward something unseen.

In an instant, the world engulfs him, thrusting him into the chaos of a city teeming with vitality. Light floods his newly opened eyes, not dull or flat like the glow of the game, but vividly spilling from every surface. Sounds echo in harmony, not a mere background score, but an uproarous symphony of noise, each sound vying for attention. Cars blare their horns, distant sirens cry out, voices cascade in a continuous flow. The phantom weight of the scalpel lingers in Zayne’s hands, the warm slickness of a pulsing heart still palpable under his touch. Glancing down, he finds them trembling, gloves still stained with what appears to be blood… Yet, his mind whispers that it isn’t real. That nothing he’s ever known has been real…

Struggling with legs that feel heavier than remembered, each step faltering on the uneven pavement, Zayne discards his gloves, seeking solace against a nearby stone wall. His hand lingers on the course, gritty surface beneath his fingertips—untamed in its authenticity, unlike anything from the game… He marvels at the subtle flex of his fingers, the shadowed creases in his palms. This is real… Undeniably real… This realization could inspire elation, yet a sense of unease creeps up Zayne’s spine. Something isn’t right. He doesn’t belong here. In the distance, a glowing red sign demands his attention, the word EMERGENCY blaring like a beacon of hope.

Zayne’s world has never stirred his heart, but now it pounds like a warm drum, the sensation foreign and unsettling. And then it happens: a whisper, faint but insistent, threading through the city’s commotion. Not quite a voice, but a feeling—a warmth, a familiarity enveloping Zayne like a forgotten tune, guiding him closer to the revolving glass doors. Initially assailed by the sharp, acrid scent of disinfectant laced with a hint of metal—Bood? Sweat?— Zayne’s senses are overwhelmed. His reality lacks such vivid scents… So pungent and palpable.

He observes doctors and nurses, their faces etched with concentration and fatigue, a stark contrast to the perfect, pixelated avatars he’s accustomed to. Dressed in surgical scrubs, Zayne moves silently through the bustling corridors, blending seamlessly into the chaotic environment. Peeking through a narrow window of an operating room door, he witnesses a surgery in progress, a sight both mesmerizing and gruesome. A patient lies exposed on the table, their chest rising and falling amidst the steady hum of machinery. The surgeon’s skilled hand delves deep into the living, breathing body. Zayne has enacted this scenario countless, saving innumerable lives—or so he thought… Watching it unfold in this stark reality reveals the falsity of it all. The lives he thought he had saved, the tears of gratitude shed by patients, the tense moments when a scalpel nearly grazed a vital artery, or the elation of a seemingly irreparable heart—all scripted, artificial, devoid of genuine outcomes or consequence. No one truly lived because of him… but… no one perished due to his actions, either… Slumping against the wall, Zayne’s legs buckle beneath him, the world around him blending into a muted buzz. What purpose does his skill and knowledge serve if none of it carries weight? Once deemed instruments of life and death, his hands now seem useless and empty.

With every step into the building, Zayne’s unease heightens, the pull in his chest growing stronger as he navigates each hallway. The ache he anticipated would ease upon his arrival at the hospital becomes a keener, more undiluted tug stirring within him. It doesn’t draw him toward the building itself, but deeper within—toward someone. Unseen threads propel him through the corridors with an urgency bordering on discomfort. His breath hitches as he pauses outside a room, his heart beating so fiercely that he fears it might split open.

Standing just a few feet away, you delicately adjust a patient’s blanket with a natural warmth and care. Your soft, melodic voice hits Zayne like a thunderclap. Gripping the doorframe, the world threatens to crumble around him as you offer a gentle smile to the patient in the bed. He has only caught glimpses of you before—the touch of your fingers on buttons, the echo of your laughter through faint static over the mic, the reflection of your face on a dim screen… To Zayne, your presence has been both tangible and out of reach, the voice animating his existence yet forever elusive.

Now, here you stand with your hair swept back in a loose bun, the soft blue of your scrubs complimenting your skin. In this moment, one thing is certain to Zayne—you are the reason he’s crossed the divides between your worlds. As you tend to the patient’s IV, your steady, soothing voice drifts toward Zayne as he leans against the wall, his chest constricted with unnamed emotions. “You’re doing great… Just a few more minutes, okay?” you murmur with a tender smile. Paralyzed, Zayne can only watch from the shadows, powerless as the woman who unknowingly breathed life into him continues her work, unaware of him standing just beyond her reach.

Fluorescent lights softly hum overhead as you step outside the patient's room and glance down the hallway, only to see the empty corridor stretching into shadows. An odd sensation washes over you, almost like a whisper brushing past your ears, a subtle shift in the air that quickens your heart and makes your hair stand on end. This feeling persists over the next few weeks—subtle, unwavering, and strangely comforting… It’s as if a watchful presence follows you through the hospital: during your morning shift while filing paperwork, and when you take a moment to sip coffee in the break room. Sometimes, you catch just the faintest hint of movement out of the corner of your eye, only to find nothing there. Rather than instilling fear, your unseen observer feels like a gentle, familiar friend, lingering just out of sight.

Zayne can’t find it in himself to speak to you yet. However, he also can’t tear his gaze away from you, even if watching you from a distance isn’t enough to quell his increasing desire for your presence. To divert his attention, he spends his days delving into research on medical institutions and the necessary steps to progress his career, feeling resolute about staying in this world. The opportunity to apply his skills to a significant cause is something Zayne isn’t willing to give up.

Shortly after his arrival, Zayne received a letter from the game developers, revealing that he was one of four entities to unexpected sentience during the Beyond the Code event. Encouraged strongly to remain and utilize his skills and knowledge to improve this world, he was told, “This world could greatly benefit from a Doctor Zayne…” A lifetime of funding was granted, ensuring Zayne has more than enough wealth to live a life of leisure if it’s what he desires. Legal documents were artfully crafted to establish his legitimate identity, and a comfortable home was provided. They even extended an offer for him to bypass medical school, granting him an immediate role. But even Zayne’s degree is a falsehood… He yearns to experience the satisfaction of truly earning his accomplishments. The idea of securing his position through merit resonates deeply with him. Though he did secure a position at a prestigious institution, receiving a start date that alleviated a burden he hadn’t acknowledged carrying. Zayne harbors dreams of joining you after graduation, wherever that may be. It’s ironic, considering he struggles to muster up the courage even to approach you.

As you aid a challenging patient with their meal later in the afternoon, a familiar weight settles on your thoughts, offering a subtle push of support that fills you with an odd sense of comfort. Acting on instinct rather than reason, you opt for a different route to your car after your shift, guiding you through quieter corridors. A hint of movement just beyond the glow of the light’s reach catches your eye. Time seems to stretch into infinity as you catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, his recognizable outline seeming unbelievably real. Despite the uncertainty clouding your mind, you hurry after him, driven by an impulse you don’t question.

The world blurs around you, the sounds of leaves gently crunching under your feet as you step into the courtyard. In the soft evening light, the breeze tousles Zayne’s hair as he comes to a sudden halt, taken aback by the sound of his name on your lips. The unwavering certainty that the man standing before you is not a product of your imagination sends a jolt of alarm through you. As you gaze at him with a mix of wonder and admiration, Zayne keenly feels the intensity of your scrutiny, the way your eyes linger on his features. The warmth in your expression causes his heart to skip a beat.

“Ironic for us to meet here of all places, don't you think?” you jest, the playfulness in your tone instantly putting Zayne at ease. An undeniable sense of connection pulses between you, the rhythm aligning with the beat of your hearts. “Perhaps fate has a peculiar sense of humor,” he muses softly. Your shiver at the word “fate” doesn’t escape his notice. The word draws you nearer as if drawn by the same force that tugs at Zayne’s heartstrings. When you tentatively reach out to touch his cheek, unable to resist, he’s taken aback by the unexpected tenderness in your gesture. You yearn to find a way to keep him here, even just a little while longer…

“... There’s a bakery a few blocks away. They make amazing macaroons,” you suggest, a playful glint in your eyes as you bring up Zayne’s favorite dessert. A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips at the idea of indulging in a treat, offering a welcoming diversion. With each step you take together, he becomes increasingly aware of your presence, feeling your arms almost brushing against each other, the warmth of your body just inches away. Unspoken is the fact that Zayne has already dined at this bakery twice before, yet it’s effortless to pretend it’s a new experience, especially with you by his side, making the dessert taste even sweeter.

You can’t help but observe how naturally Zayne blends into this world, slipping into it with such ease that it seems he belonged here all along. He shares snippets of his journey to this palace, glossing over the crucial detail that your connection awakened his awareness. He worries knowing might make you feel compelled to stay by his side, and while he doesn’t have the first clue about love, he firmly believes obligation isn’t the path to true happiness. Additionally, he’s committed to starting a new chapter in his life—medical school demands his complete focus, and so does building his career. Then there’s his uncertainty about entering into a new relationship while still figuring out his own path… While he is capable of offering you all the material comforts, he desires more than just caring for you in some superficial way.

Should you stand beside Zayne, he wants to be someone you proudly claim as your own. If you would even want to claim him as your own… Though he'd never admit it, this deeply distressing notion holds him back the most. As you stroll through the park post-meal, Zayne finds himself enveloped by the subtle fragrance of your perfume and the comforting warmth of your company, evoking emotions he fails to comprehend. Each step quickens both your heart rates, a part of you yearning to bridge the gap, to extend a gentle touch, to feel his skin beneath your fingertips… But the shadow of potential rejection freezes you in place as well.

You steal occasional glances at Zayne, and he can’t help but detect a hint of longing in your eyes, though he questions if it’s just wishful thinking on his part. Would it be too slutty to just invite him home with you? Is there any value in feigning disinterest when you are fully aware of your desires and he stands so close, exuding warmth and vitality? You hold no hesitations or fears about the potential aftermath of being with him; screw the consequences. The sole obstacle is the emotional barriers Zayne painstakingly erects to prevent his feelings from surfacing.

You settle into a cozy routine in the following weeks, often spending every bit of your free time together. Your bond strengthens as you explore the city and enjoy each other’s company, a progression Zayne deems risky as the palpable tension between you escalates. Stolen touches, lingering embraces, and gazes that linger just a beat too long. But neither of you has taken the first step, prompting you to question if your emotions are one-sided. And, despite the affection you openly display toward him, Zayne remains perplexed, arriving at a similar uncertainty. However, each shared moment only intensifies his longing for you… He’s becoming curious about how much longer he can keep this up.

Today, when he surprises you at the hospital with lunch, you take the opportunity to introduce him to some of your colleagues. Regret washes over you as a secretary, likely a Love and Deepspace player, gives Zayne a look akin to encountering a ghost. A nurse passes by, giggling and flashing Zayne a suggestive smile, prompting him to glance at you with a hint of embarrassment upon noticing the smirk on your face. Though you try to conceal it, a surge of unfamiliar and intense jealousy flares within you.

“So, what should we do next?” he asks, unconsciously taking your hand. You meet his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth from his touch that leaves you momentarily breathless. The casual, unexpected contact stays with Zayne long after he leaves. He nearly cancels your dinner arrangements, unsure about spending the evening alone with you in your home. Perhaps he should have trusted his instincts…

After dinner, you settled in to watch a movie but found yourself drifting off, only to wake with your head resting on Zayne’s lap. He waited patiently for your breathing to steady before drawing you closer, his fingers tenderly combing through your hair, careful not to wake you. As you stir and open your eyes, he gazes down at you, his hand resting gently on your stomach. Startling slightly, he pulls away, only to catch his breath as your fingers brush lightly against his cheek. Zayne instinctively closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the softness of your touch.

In a hushed and breathless tone, your words send a sudden jolt of electricity through Zayne. “I can’t keep doing this, Zayne… pretending I don’t want you…” Zayne freezes, the weight of your confession sinking in. After a deep swallow to calm his racing heart, he finally manages to speak, his voice rough and barely a whisper. “... You… want me?” A shiver travels down his spine as your touch lingers on his jaw, your thumb tracing the lines with a delicate touch as you nod softly.

His eyes widen when he feels the brush of your lips against his cheek, a gentle caress that ignites a tender wave of warmth throughout Zayne’s entire being. Taking your hand in his, he holds it gently between you, his expression a mix of disbelief and hope. “I thought you might not feel the same way towards me…”

Taking a deep breath, you pause to collect your thoughts before gingerly sitting on his lap, your hands splayed across his stomach as you peer into his eyes. Zayne feels a blush creep up his cheeks, almost overwhelmed by the intensity of your gaze. Yet, it’s a sensation that he finds strangely exhilarating rather than uncomfortable—a novel and unfamiliar experience. Being intimate with someone is uncharted territory for him, and he’s surprised by the sudden rush of nerves it brings. The moment your lips meet is everything he’s wanted, needed, since he stepped into this world.

His fingers tighten around your hips, anchoring you in place as he kisses you back. Your body presses against him just a bit, the sensation making him nearly dizzy. His hand glides around to the small of your back, delicately drawing you closer, his fingers dancing lightly across your spine in a gentle, rhythmic caress. Zayne’s breathing grows ragged as your tongue glides across his ear, feeling himself melting beneath you. The sound of his moan prompts you to grip him tighter, your fingers tangling in his silky hair. His hands glide up your back, tracing a path to the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer with a sense of urgency, kissing you with a passion he never realized he possessed.

The deliberate way you undo the buttons of his shirt leaves him feeling weak and lightheaded. He senses your breath hitch at the sight of him shirtless, sees the longing reflected in your features. His eyes widen a fraction as your whispered, “... how can you possibly still be this perfect…?” reaches his ears, causing a fierce blush to creep along his cheeks.

The feeling of your hands traveling down his chest and abs makes his breath hitch, nearly driving him mad… When you kneel before him, his pulse quickens, his heart seeming to stop entirely. Your fingertips trace over his length through the fabric of his slacks, leaving him gasping for air, the exquisite sensation sending shockwaves up his spine. Observing your gentle touch and the desire painted across your features, glazing your expression with arousal, triggers a shift in Zayne. His hands reach out and tangle in your hair, gripping lightly as a low, gravelly whisper escapes him, “... you are going to drive me… crazy… aren’t you?”

The tender and affectionate smile you offer as you place a kiss on the material of his pants, so delicate and endearing, nearly undoes him. He releases a sharp breath, his eyes closing briefly as the sensation surges through him like a blaze. “Please… don’t toy with me,” he pleads, already struggling to maintain whatever semblance of control he has left.

As you delicately unzip him and release him, a gasp catches in your throat. The perfection of the man before you is nothing short of surreal. The gentle touch of your tongue against the head of his cock, so soft and wet, elicits a deep groan from Zayne, his grip on your hair tightening. Mind so clouded from pleasure he can hardly think, he almost fails to grasp the meaning of your playful murmur, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to suck your cock just like this, Doctor Zayne… Am I… doing a good job…?”

Locking eyes with you, he runs his fingers down your arms, mustering a hoarse whisper, “F-fuc— I… Yes… Y-yes, you’re doing so well…” Zayne’s control hangs by a thread as you flash him a blissful smile before taking him deep in your throat.

Without realizing it, he starts exploring your body. His fingertips trace softly over your shoulder, down your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze, his other hand still entwined in your hair. Zayne’s trying so hard to hold on. To be gentle and considerate. But the longer you keep pleasuring him, the more challenging it becomes, and eventually, he breaks.

His hips buck against you, allowing himself a brief, desperate moment to seize what he desires. Quivering at your tongue caressing his skin, his breath runs ragged and uneven. His voice, unfamiliar to his ears, is so husky it’s nearly a growl, “I want you—all of you.”

As he pulls you close, feeling your body cradled in his lap and hearing your breathless gasp, his heart quickens its pace. He kisses you deeply, his hand strokes your cheek, the touch gentle and caring. Briefly breaking away from your lips, he plants soft kisses along your jawline, trailing down your neck as he leisurely explores your form. His eyes wander over your figure as he slips your dress down to release you, brimming with raw desire.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps as his fingers journey, sending a quiver through you that catches his breath. Zayne can’t resist releasing a soft, hoarse whisper, “Every part of you is just so beautiful…” Tenderly caressing your breasts, he explores your soft curves, sensing your chest rise and fall beneath his touch. Zayne has no idea if he’s doing this correctly... But with his hand slipping under your dress, tracing up your stomach, your gasps filling the air, he can feel the way your body responds to his touch… It’s enough to make his heart race and his head spin.

As he slowly lifts your dress, exposing your hips to him, a surge of desire engulfs him, intense and urgent. Zayne’s fingers softly skim over the lace, feeling the delicate fabric before tracing its outline… Merely feeling you there makes him acutely aware of how much he craves this… craves you… His breath quickens as he murmurs, “May I…?” A gentle wave of gratitude washes over him as you blush, nodding in silent agreement.

Slowly, meticulously, Zayne unravels the lace, his breath hitching when you bite your thumb to stifle your needy sounds, a sight likely to drive him to madness.

The feeling of his finger tracing over your soft, wet skin, your quiet gasp at his touch… It’s almost too much… He moves in small circles over your clit, his voice so incredibly low and husky as he murmurs, “Like this, my love…?” When you moan against him, your whisper of “yes” soft and breathless, Zayne senses his heart race quicken, his lips seeking yours once more.

Despite knowing your body is more than prepared, his fingers come to your lips with a quiet command, “Get them ready for me...” The image of you, so eager and hungry for him in a manner he never imagined he could crave… Zayne can’t tear his gaze away, can’t stop, his eyes locked on you as your tongue dances over his fingers. Waves of ecstasy surge through him when you playfully nip at his skin, his voice so hoarse it’s barely above a whisper, “... I’m starting to worry my newfound existence may be cut short…” You were on the verge of stopping his heart altogether.

It’s when you lead his hand downward, positioning it where you want him most, that Zayne reaches his breaking point. The feeling of being inside you, of sensing your body shudder and curl into his, leaves his mind spinning. Your whisper of his name amidst gasps makes his body burn with a need he can’t ignore. His arm wraps tightly around you, admiring the perfect way you fit against him.

The sounds you make responding to his movements are so beautiful and vulnerable, as you cling to him and press your face into his chest. The knowledge that he can unravel you in such a way leaves Zyne feeling both empowered and overwhelmed. As the pleasure reaches its peak and you whine, “I—I can’t…” his lips graze against your neck as he softly implores, “Please… let me see you…”

Your pussy pulls him in deeper, quivering in his embrace as your release washes over you. Your body responding to his touch like this, becoming so sticky and needy for him, your whimper against his skin as you take him as far as you can… it feels like every one of Zayne’s forbidden desires materializing. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his forehead pressed against yours as he tries to collect himself.

As your lips crush against his, he meets you, the kiss so full of passion and longing that it leaves you both gasping for air. His fingers weave into your hair, drawing you near as he whispers between kisses, “How am I supposed to stop when you make me feel this way…?” You straddle his lap, moving against him with urgency as you carelessly toss your dress aside, the feeling of your heated, exposed skin against his cock sending his thoughts spiraling.

Your hands meander across his body, discovering every contour, the last of his self-control crumbling beneath your caress. As your lips travel to his neck, leaving a mark in their wake, you pull back abruptly, your fingers lingering hesitantly over the spot. Zayne shivers in response, his heart thundering in his chest as he manages to whisper, “... Go ahead, love… Make me yours…” Even to himself, Zayne sounds desperate, but he can’t help it; his mind, clouded with longing, overrides any sense of reason.

Driven by the desire to claim him in a way more profound than a mere bruise, you guide his cock deep inside you, your body taking him as far as possible. The way you bite into his skin, leaving your imprint, your moan muffled against his shoulder, becomes almost unbearable for Zayne. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, your tongue tracing his… every movement of your body causes his thoughts to blur… every whimper and expression of pleasure emanating from you sounds like the most beautiful thing he’s ever experienced.

He lets you glide over him, your body moving against his in deliberate, unhurried motions that steal his breath away. His mouth explores your breast, his tongue playing with the delicate bud before his touch grows hungry, his hands holding you in place. When Zayne locks eyes with you, the gaze within nearly unravels him, causing his breath to catch in his chest with each of your soft cries.

Feeling your quiet whimpers against his lips as he kisses you once more… His need consumes him, the yearning for you becoming too much… Unable to contain himself any longer, he grips your hips tightly, moving you against him with a force that leaves you both shaking.

His hunger overwhelms him, the need for you so intense it’s like fire in his veins. He can’t keep his motions gentle anymore, his hands grasping your hips, moving you against him with a force that has you both shaking. Nothing could have prepared Zayne for this… the sight of you, the feel of your touch, the sound of your voice…

His voice is a low, ragged exhale, his lips tracing a path to your neck, softly brushing against your skin as he murmurs hoarsely, “You can’t imagine… how incredible you feel…” His words taper off, the rocking of your hips against him causing a whirlwind in his mind, a gentle moan slipping from his lips. Maintaining composure becomes an illusion, his hips instinctively rising to meet your movements.

A faint whimper gets caught in his throat as you increase the intensity of your movements, prompting a desperate request, “Zayne, more… please…” when it proves insufficient. Zayne’s thoughts whirl out of order as he reacts swiftly, turning you around and slipping back inside you, whispering tenderly, “Shh… I’ve got you, love… I’m here…”

His body quivers as you guide his hand to your throat. You’re so soft and so warm, so trusting… so perfect… the sense of holding your life so entirely in his grasp, utterly and unquestionably his… Zayne wants you so badly he can’t breathe. He doesn’t realize that his grip tightens around your neck, his kisses and bites to your body growing more forceful as he asserts control. His fingers dig into your hip, his hold firm and possessive as he draws you near, a soft moan slipping from him as your pussy clenches around his cock.

You wiggle against him, your voice turning soft and hesitant, innocence laced with urgency as you plead, “Finish inside me, Zayne? … Please…?” Zayne’s breath catches, a rough gasp escaping him as he firmly grasps your waist, keeping you still. Battling his overwhelming need at the idea of completing you, he tenderly nudges your chin, urging you to meet his gaze. Locking eyes with you, he whispers, “I… Are you certain?”

With a soft nod, you lean over the coffee table, gripping it tightly as Zayne follows, drawing you to the edge and filling you once more. Your body laid out before him, your pleading voice… He can’t stop himself, not with you begging him, not with the look in your eyes and your urgent sounds in his ears. Zayne seizes you by the throat, bringing you flush against him, pressing as deeply into your soft body as possible, calling out your name as his essence flows into you. His voice, a gentle murmur against your skin, intertwines with warm, tender touches as you both pause to catch your breath, holding each other tightly.

In the shower, warm water cascades down your tired bodies. Zayne delicately washes your hair, his touch gentle and soft, his lips seeking yours as if they were meant for that exact purpose. Initially a bit rigid as your fingers run through his hair, a gesture of care he’s unaccustomed to, Zayne gradually eases under your tender touch, soothing words, and the sweet kisses along his skin. Relaxation washes over him, his mind clearing, eyes shutting softly as you continue tending to his hair.

You effortlessly settle into a routine of mutual care, nurturing your blooming relationship. On Zayne’s inaugural day at school, you surprise him with lunch, locking eyes and capturing his hand with a smile. “So, how’s the first day going?” you inquire cheerfully, leaning back in your chair, your fingers intertwined with his. Zayne’s heart swells at the sound of your voice, savoring every nuance of your joyful demeanor. “It’s only been a few hours…” he responds, his thumb caressing the back of your hand playfully, “but if you keep showing up like this, I might just make it through.”

Your smile widens, a soft laughter escaping your lips in response. “I’m so proud of you, Zayne…” These straightforward words, words that Zayne had yearned for, fill him with a gentle sense of contentment, stirring emotions his struggles to put into words. “Proud of me, huh? That means a lot, coming from someone like you,” he murmurs, his smile turning teasing and affectionate. “Careful, you might inflate my ego…” You playfully roll your eyes, your face contorting in a mischievous expression as you unwrap a sandwich. “... If anyone could use an ego boost, it’s you, Zayne. You’re completely oblivious to your own wonderful qualities…”

Zayne chuckles at your remark, glancing around to ensure privacy before he leans in to plant a deep kiss on your lips, then trailing down to your neck. In a low, amused whisper against your skin, he quips, “Completely oblivious, huh? With words like that, your ego does indeed outshine mine…”

Zayne's sense of joy and contentment is almost surreal. Just months ago, he had arrived here, consumed by fear and uncertainty. Now, he feels a sense of belonging and completeness that surpasses anything he’s ever experienced. He can’t wait to see what a future with you by his side holds. Returning to your lips, Zayne is brimming with happiness, his words flowing with raw sincerity as he gazes into your eyes and whispers, “... Thank you, my love.” ♡

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r0ugesun · 6 months ago

Text

Hoax

Continuation of this

Taglist: @jhroseok @nicejulie94 @bibiscarn @xcinnamonmalfoyx @sapphiresandferrari @shamidreamer @sapphirelegacy @minaxcarter @fandomsinthegalaxies @g-cf2020

Special thanks to my wife @moonstruksandco and thank you to everyone who requested pt 2 I hope you enjoy ✨

The first time I uploaded this it got flagged so let’s try it again -_-

Warnings: hurt/comfort unprotected p in v sex slight breeding kink soft! Aemond

Weeks passed without a word from Aemond. The House of Kisses continued its usual hum of activity, but you couldn't shake the emptiness that had settled in your heart.

Each day blended into the next, the routine of the brothel offering little distraction from the ache of his absence.

You missed his sharp wit, his icy demeanor that softened only for you, and the way his touch had made you feel alive. Every night, as you lay in bed with another, you found yourself picturing Aemond, your last moments together, the memory of his kiss, his touch, the way he had looked at you.

The other girls noticed your change in demeanor. They whispered among themselves, casting sympathetic glances your way. Even the madam, usually so stern, seemed to tread more carefully around you, offering a comforting pat on the shoulder or a few kind words when she could.

One particularly lonely evening, as the wind howled outside and rain lashed against the windows, you found yourself in the common room, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace. The warmth did little to chase away the chill that had settled in your bones.

You hugged your knees to your chest, lost in thought, when the door creaked open. Sylvie entered, her expression one of concern.

"You've been like this for weeks," she said, taking a seat beside you. "You barely smile anymore."

You sighed and turned to face her. "I actually let myself believe he was different. A common whore and a prince... I've been the biggest fool."

She gave you a sympathetic smile, reaching out to take your hand.

"I understand truly. But you can't let this consume you. The House of Kisses needs you, and so do I."

You squeezed her hand in return, appreciating her support. "I know. It's just... I've been alone my whole life, and I don't know any other way to live. I thought that by doing this work, I might find solace in the intimacy, but it only made me feel more alone then I ever have. But when he came along, when he smiled only at me, laughed only with me, and shared his pain openly, it made me feel lighter. It made the trail of suffering l've walked seem worth it, if it meant the journey led to him."

Sylvie nodded, her eyes thoughtful. "Men like Aemond Targaryen are complicated. They're used to getting what they want, and when things get difficult, they often run. However, you must not place your life on hold. You must remain strong, both for yourself and for those who care for you."

You nodded, absorbing her words. "You are right. It is simply difficult to let go."

Sylvie gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Take it one day at a time. And remember, you are not alone."

You managed a small smile. "Thank you, Sylvie. For everything."

The next morning, the serenity of the House of Kisses was disrupted by an unexpected visitor. The heavy oak door swung open, and the room fell silent as Aemond strode in, his presence commanding immediate attention. His silver hair was slightly disheveled from the rain, and his usual composed demeanor seemed frayed at the edges. He looked around the room, his single eye scanning the faces until it landed on you.

You stood rooted to the spot, your heart pounding in your chest. His gaze softened, a flicker of something you couldn't quite place crossing his features.

"Aemond," you whispered, barely audible over the crackling fire.

He crossed the room in long strides, stopping just inches from you. "I need to speak with you," he said, his voice low and urgent. "In private."

Sylvie gave you a reassuring nod before slipping away, leaving the two of you alone.

You felt the tension in the air as he searched your eyes, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you both. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice tinged with a mix of anger and hurt.

"What do you want, Aemond?"

He took a deep breath, his expression shifting to one of pleading. "Y/n." he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I have wronged you, but I cannot bear being away from you any longer"

Your heart ached at his words, but you held your ground, refusing to let your emotions show. "It's not that simple," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. "You cannot just stroll in here and expect everything to be forgiven."

"I know," he said, his voice breaking. "But please, y/n, give me a chance to make things right."

His vulnerability took you by surprise, and for a moment, you saw the boy beneath the armor, the one who longed for redemption. But your anger still burned, a barrier between you and the possibility of reconciliation.

"Why should I believe you?" you asked, your eyes searching his face for any sign of deceit.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "Because I love you"

His words hung in the air, and you felt your resolve waver. You searched his face, looking for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was raw emotion, a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"Aemond," you began, your voice softer now, "You abandoned me as if I didn't mean anything, and I was left to pick up the pieces."

He dropped his hand, a pained expression crossing his features. "I know l've hurt you, and I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I am willing to do whatever it takes to prove my love for you.... It was cowardly of me to leave... I thought distancing myself would protect you, protect me. But I was wrong."

You looked away, the flickering flames of the fireplace reflecting in your eyes. "I don't know if I can go through that pain again, Aemond. Loving you was like dancing on a knife's edge."

Aemond took a step closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I can't promise that it will be easy, but I can promise that I will never leave you again."

The sincerity in his eyes, the rawness of his plea, chipped away at the walls you had built around your heart. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, before finally meeting his gaze "I don't know if I can trust you again Aemond..... but I want to. I want you."

A flicker of hope crossed his face, and he gently placed his hands on your shoulders. "That's all I ask," he murmured, leaning in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.

But you didn't. Instead, you closed the remaining distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, filled with all the emotions you had kept bottled up for weeks. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, a silent promise of his devotion.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist.

There was only the two of you, tangled in a web of passion and pain, hope and forgiveness.

Aemond's grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as if he was afraid you might vanish.

You could feel the intensity of his need, the desperation in his touch, and it mirrored your own longing. The kiss grew more fervent, more demanding, as if trying to make up for all the lost time and words unspoken.

Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling in the silken strands, pulling him closer still. He groaned into your mouth, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, a heady mix of desire and yearning that threatened to consume you both.

Aemond broke the kiss just long enough to trail his lips down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. "I thought I had lost you," he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with emotion. "Every moment away from you was torture."

You tilted your head back, giving him better access as his lips moved to your neck, planting heated kisses along your pulse. "You hurt me. Aemond." You you breathed, even as your body betrayed you, arching into his touch.

"I know," he replied, his voice a raw whisper. "And I will make it up to you, by proving my love. Just... let me show you."

His words, combined with the feel of his lips and the intensity of his touch, broke down the last of your defenses. You pulled him back up to capture his lips once more, pouring all your conflicting emotions into the kiss. It was a dance of need and forgiveness, a tentative step towards healing.

Aemond responded with equal fervor, his hands roaming over your body as if trying to memorize every inch of you. You could feel the raw power of his emotions, the depth of his regret and the strength of his love. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment, in him.

The kiss seemed to last forever, yet not long enough. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together, sharing the same ragged breaths. "I missed you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

"And I you," Aemond replied, his eye filled with a mixture of relief and determination. "I will never let you go again, y/n. This, I swear."

Aemond's grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as if he was afraid you might vanish. You could feel the intensity of his need, the desperation in his touch, and it mirrored your own longing.

The kiss grew more fervent, more demanding, as if trying to make up for all the lost time and words unspoken.

Aemond's hands began to wander, sliding down your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the heat of his body, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest.

His kiss grew more insistent, more urgent, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn't say in words.

Your own hands roamed over his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath your fingertips. You could sense the restraint in his touch, the way he held himself back, but you didn't want restraint. You wanted him, all of him.

"Aemond," you murmured against his lips, your voice a plea.

He responded with a growl, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you even closer.

His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. "I need you," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "I need you, all of you y/n."

You shivered at his words, your body responding to the raw need in his voice.

"Then take me," you whispered back, your own voice trembling with desire.

"Show me how much you need me."

Aemond's control snapped. He lifted you off the ground, his strength evident as he carried you across the room.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, never breaking the kiss. He laid you down on a nearby settee, his body covering yours, his kisses growing more desperate, more demanding.

You matched his intensity, your hands tugging at his clothes, wanting to feel his skin against yours. He followed suit, his fingers deftly undoing the fastenings of your dress, baring your skin to his touch.

The air around you seemed to crackle with electricity, The air around you seemed to crackle with electricity, the tension between you palpable.

When you were both finally free of your clothes, he paused, his eye drinking in the sight of your naked form. "You're beautiful," he said barely above a whisper, his voice filled with awe. "So beautiful."

You blushed under his intense gaze, but you didn't look away.

"And you," you whispered back, reaching up to touch his face. "You are mine."

His lips crashed back onto yours, he pressed his cock into your entrance and slammed his hips into you, pressing you into the cushions. The heat of his skin against yours, the weight of him, the way he moved everything about him was intoxicating.

You lost yourself in the sensation, in the way he made you feel Every touch, every kiss, every breath was a declaration of his love, his need, his desperation to make things right.

"Ah-ah Aemond!" You moaned desperately.

Aemond's body pressed firmly against yours, his movements deliberate yet fierce, creating a rhythm that matched the desperate beat of your hearts.

He groaned at the sound of you moaning his name in his ear "F-fuck I missed you"

Each thrust was a blend of passion and longing, as if he was trying to erase every second he spent apart trom you.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring and claiming every inch of you with a fervor that left you breathless and wanting more.

His lips left yours to trail hot kisses down your neck, each touch igniting a trail of fire across your skin. You arched into him, craving every bit of his attention, every whisper of his touch.

"Aemond" you breathed, your voice a mixture of pleasure and need, "please don't stop."

He growled softly in response, his eyes dark with desire. "I won't" he promised, his voice husky and raw.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding you to meet his thrusts, making the connection between you both even more intimate.

"Gods..." the feel of your wet cunt squeezing him was almost enough to break him, he spread your thighs even further and rubbed harsh circles on your clit.

you could feel every nerve in your body tingling, every sensation heightened by his touch. The world outside ceased to exist as you became lost in the pleasure of the moment.

"Yes yes just like that" you mewled.

The way your breasts bounced up and down as he fucked into you greedily made his head spin, each sound, each touch, a reminder of the depth of your connection.

Aemond's hands on your hips were a masterful blend of authority and reverence as he thrust into you with an insatiable intensity.

Each deliberate motion drove you further into the luxurious cushions, the heat of his body slick and urgent against yours. His hands explored every inch of your skin with a possessive, almost worshipful touch.

One hand slid down to grip your thigh firmly, spreading your folds apart with a tender, commanding pressure.

"Speak to me, my love," he demanded, his voice a deep, velvety rumble that sent shivers cascading through your entire being.

"What is it that you need from me?"

You arched into him, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

"I need you, Aemond. Every part of you. I need you to make me yours, completely."

A growl of approval rumbled from his chest as he shifted his focus. feeling the rhythmic pulse of your arousal with a fervent need. His thumb brushed over your clit with a slow, teasing pressure, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you.

"You are exquisite," he murmured, his breath hot and tantalizing against your ear. "I am utterly captivated by you."

With a desperate, almost frantic need, his other hand descended, wrapping around his balls with a firm, practiced grip. His fingers stroked and fondled with an urgent, intensity, each movement a testament to his own escalating desire.

"I must feel you cum" he panted, his voice strained and raw with emotion. "I need to experience your surrender."

The sensation of his touch, both on your body and his own, was electric, igniting every nerve with heightened pleasure. His thrusts grew more fervent, his movements a relentless dance of passion that drove you both to the precipice of ecstasy.

Your moans were a desperate plea, your voice trembling with the depth of your longing.

"Please, Aemond. need you. I need you to spill inside me. Don't stop."

"Gods..." the feel of your wet cunt squeezing him was almost enough to break him, he spread your thighs even further and rubbed harsh circles on your clit.

His ministrations on your clit grew more insistent, his thumb pressing and rubbing with a rhythm that matched his powerful thrusts. The build-up of pleasure as a formidable wave, crashing over you both with breathtaking force.

As you reached the peak, your cries of his name were filled with raw, unfiltered need, your body shivering uncontrollably with the intensity of the release.

Aemond's grip on his cock tightened, his movements becoming almost frantic as he sought his own release.

With a final, powerful thrust, he came inside you, his cock throbbing as he deposited his dragon seed deep within.

His breath came in desperate gasps as he held his cock in place, his fingers pressing firmly against your clit to ensure that his seed might take hold.

He collapsed beside you, his chest heaving with deep, uneven breaths. He pulled you into his embrace, encircling you with a protective, tender warmth.

His fingers traced soothing patterns over your damp skin, his touch a gentle contrast to the urgency of moments before. His voice, husky and laden with emotion, was a tender whisper against your ear.

"Look at me" he murmured, his gaze intense and filled with unspoken promises. "I love you with every fiber of my being. I need you beside me always, now and forever."

You gazed up at him, your eyes reflecting the profound depth of affection and yearning "I love you too, Aemond. Forever. I need you just as much."

You were bound together now nothing else in the world mattered but this.

Cradled in his arms, you savored the warmth and intimate connection of your shared moment, both lost yourselves in the profound, unspoken love that enveloped you.

his breathing heavy and ragged, yet his touch was tender as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

As you lay together, the remnants of passion still tingling between you, you felt a renewed sense of hope. The road to healing would be long and fraught with challenges, but in that moment, with Aemond by your side, you felt ready to face it all, together.

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