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satoruhour · 8 months

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While I know Suguru is the og girldad, there’s something so endearing about Satoru with a daughter.

First time she’s in his arms and it’s like somebody put the sun into his palms. She has his white hair and six eyes but in shape of your facial features, his loud and boisterous personality and his sweet tooth, and there’s not a thing on this planet he cherishes more than her. Spoils her, wants to be her “superhero” dad children look up to, you best believe everything she draws for him is kept secure in a folder in his room. He never lets anyone treat her as inferior to boys (knowing the misogyny in jjk universe), and both of them love you to piecessssss🥹

Like I just randomly imagine him baking a cake with his little daughter for your birthday and MY HEARTHNSJ😭

WHEN US MEANS MORE THAN ME & U

a/n: literal tears. bye. i love dad gojo sm. wrote this through tears while listening to this. tagging @crysugu @jabamin @hyomagiri @seeingivy ✶

wc: 3k plus?? man idfk cant see thru my tears

✶ dad!gojo . . .

. . . who ages so well the more he grows older. if you think he looks good at 28, just wait until he’s 34, or 40. although he still has a baby face, his features have matured way more, now, crinkle lines on his forehead and around his lips that accentuate his dimples even more. he just looked… so damn good, truly keeping his physique well into his thirties, except you wouldn’t have known if his hair is turning grey, though, since it’s already white, but you can tell he’s happy when his body hair is not just white upon white.

. . . who has the palest skin, so when he starts to grow a noticeable moustache and goatee he shows you the short strands excitedly, pointing to the various parts of his face with an excited finger and a beaming smile. he annoys you by rubbing his chin and cupid’s bow along your skin in the morning or when he returns home — it’s a little funny seeing you jump in surprise.

. . . who only lets you dictate whether he should keep the facial hair and when you hesitate even one moment (“nope! let’s shave it!”) you’re pulled into the bathroom and handed a shaver and shaving cream. he hums when the blade glides along his skin, knowing you were too afraid to be too rough. gojo liked the tenderness of these moments, you perched upon his lap and bottom lip caught in between your lips as you focused on his chin and cupid’s bow. the grip on your waist is firm, loving the way your thighs close around his own so snugly.

“okay — last one,” you voice out softly, eyes squinting because it was so difficult trying to see white hair from skin. gojo simply giggles at your struggle and you tsk, telling to stop moving! before you’re yelping and the shaver leaves your hand, the soft, plump lips of satoru moving against yours. behind you, there’s a plop! of water, and gojo just laughs when he sees the shaver lodged into the toilet. “ah. well, let’s use yours.” and your mouth twists, “no! i use that to shave…” you trail off and you swear you can hear gojo’s grin and the insult of pervert on your lips. “well! all the more to use it!” ✶

. . . whose vision from the start is slowly turning true. the jujutsu world is in the good hands of his students that he’s able to spend time with you and the (unborn) baby more. he smiles more freely now that he works less missions, but still as cheeky and playful as ever, squishing your cheeks and moving them around as he plants kisses on them. he also shows his feelings more, not afraid to bury his face in your neck and ask for head rubs or tell you he might be thinking about suguru a little too much; the first time satoru put his head to your swelling belly and heard the kid kick he teared up right away, baby talking to the baby bump like the sap he is.

. . . who at first hated his family name because it was only ever associated with his powerful father and then him, with both of his renowned techniques, how it pointed straight to him being the strongest and a cog in the machine to overwork. but now, gojo rather likes it, referring to you as “my wife” and “mrs. gojo” more times than necessary. you gave him his surname meaning by saying your vows and slipping his (rather expensive) ring on your fourth finger. you gave the family name a sense of warmth and homeliness whenever he’d come home to you humming a tune from high school and cooking up some dinner. you gave ‘gojo’ a worth that means more than just the six eyes and limitless — that it’d mean that gojo was the penthouse in some far off tokyo district coupled with you and the baby growing in you.

. . . who when first handed his baby girl, cried full on tears in the hospital, both arms wrapped so snugly around his baby because he was afraid he was going to hurt her or drop her in some way. gojo is generally pretty large in stature that he makes your baby girl look so small that it’s endearing. your cheeks hurt from smiling so much at them, not having the energy to capture the moment since you just quite literally delivered. but satoru much rather have his girls in the picture, handing the baby back to you before he reveals his phone to snap a picture.

“w-would ya look at her?” satoru coos, rocking and bouncing his body gently to ease your baby back into slumber. there’s an ugly show of a mess on his face — snot falling everywhere and tear stains lining his cheeks. but there’s one final thing that has gojo choking up all over again; the baby is curious and feels up his hand, your husband letting a finger out before she curls her small fist around his finger. “oh my god.” it’s cute seeing gojo so distraught as tears spring to his eyes again and he can’t even form words. it makes the baby laugh and he sobers up a little, sniffing and raising a brow. “love seeing your papa cry, huh?” and the baby sputters again and giggles and satoru swears he ascends to heaven and mutters a promise more to himself than your darling girl. “i’ll protect that little smile for as long as i live, okay?” ✶

. . . who is entirely enamoured with his baby girl, carrying her a little too much when she should be in the crib, singing her little songs or pointing out the colours of the sky in the nursery. you watch the scenes like a proud wife and mother, still not used to the beautiful scenes and childlike decorations of the room — only because satoru would not let you in after learning why ellie from up couldn’t conceive even if the paint now was safe. but you don’t have the heart to turn away your husband when this is what you get out of it, reminiscent of when gojo had playfully done to tsumiki and megumi before (“the scenery is beautiful today, gojo-san!” vs. “i already know what colours are, dumbass.”).

. . . who only asks you to rest while he takes on most of the diaper-changing and feeding duties. you weren’t even that old to begin with, but it seemed like just like you were pregnant, satoru found it offensive that you’d think of even lifting a finger. you let him, for a while, until you find out he’s putting on the diaper wrongly and putting a little too much formula in the bottle, but you simply pat his cheek when he tears again. by god, he doesn’t want to mess this up, he doesn’t want to mess you up, he doesn’t want to mess her up, but you show him with your hands wrapped around his. one, two, three, and a half cups into the bottle; wrap around her right, then her left and secure it with the provided adhesive.

“satoru, baby,” you sigh, going on your tippy toes to kiss away the tears spilling from his cheeks, “you’re not a bad dad because you didn’t know how to make her food or change her diaper.” your fingers are as light as dewdrops, always in awe of his flawless skin and looks, and now, in awe of his consideration and love of your baby girl. “but—” you put up a finger, “no buts— remember? we promised each other not to be sorry if we can’t help it. you are human, my love.” gojo heaves a shaky sigh and swallows away the sobs, nodding against your hand as he covers it and leans into your touch. “i am human,” and a little later after quelling the baby’s cries in bed, “thank you.” ✶

. . . who, when she’s old enough, takes her on flying mishaps, hands tucked under her arm pits to guide her through the house in exaggerated flight. it feels like dad is superman, the sofa, high chair, even mama is all too far away from her and she’s onto her next exciting adventure. the bubbly giggles from your darling girl is the only sound that matters to satoru, alongside your laughter as you watch the two in play while dinner simmer besides you. higher! higher! she asks when she can speak and he does just that with his imposing height, but gojo’s tallness never intimidates his baby girl; no, not when gojo satoru is her hero and you, her solace.

. . . who gives nothing but a multitude of praises when his girl is leaning more into the artistic side, asking for colour pencils and crayons and paint to explore her creativity that with each drawing she shows him, he gasps, falls to the floor, and cries out how it should belong in a museum! gojo is doing the most — hands on his chin and pointing to various parts of the drawing and discussing the “meaning” behind it when all your girl wanted to do was draw the three of you as a happy family. he’s buying the frame, making a plaque for the artwork to be hung; when he’s making copies of the artwork to keep in a folder, he’s crying his eyes out (“she just wanted to draw us, us! as a family!” you giggle, “yes, satoru, that’s what we are.”)

“girlssss! i’m home!” satoru grins when your baby runs up to him, swooping her up before she can crash into his legs and twirls her around. “papa! look at what i drew today!” you’re emerging after cleaning up her very passionate creative space after she swore on finishing it before your husband came back, smiling when she bounces on her heels. “woooow!” he clutches his heart, one knee and then the other before he croaks out “ooouhhhh! why isn’t this masterpiece in a museum yet?! it’s a crime!” if you were in high school, the gojo then would definitely barf at how cheesy he was being at the moment, “very compelling use of colour, here, miss gojo. hmm, yes, yes, i see how you used multiple colours for the sun — very effective in showing the many colours of the sunset!” you’re cheesing so hard at the display because he does this every. time. and it never fails to make her yell in excitement, running over to you as she gives you a big fat kiss on your cheeks, “mama helped me!” a raise of the eyebrow before you finally get your well-awaited kiss to your lips, “i’m sure she did, honey.” ✩

. . .who teaches her the basic things, not shying away from the harsh realities of the world and jujutsu society. he tells her about boys who make fun of girls and think it’s acceptable, or teachers that would only like the strong boys to carry the chairs to the centre of the classroom. he thinks that if he’s going to do this parenting shit, he’s going to do it right, not the way his parents did it, not the way the higher-ups “looked” over young sorcerers. he covers self-defense, verbal comebacks as well as a rejected raise of her hand to threaten a punch (you were the one to stop him from teaching her that — you could only thank it wasn’t a middle finger instead), praising and rewarding her with candy and blown raspberries into her skin.

. . . who teaches her mama is as important as he is, but your darling girl already knows the value of her mother who holds her tight when she has a nightmare, or the airplane on mama’s airline that always holds delicious food. she knows how much her mother loves her when you’re sharing a smile with her at the dinner table as satoru chokes again on his food, and when you pat her to sleep while telling the story of how you and gojo met. that’s why she was the one to suggest that they both bake you a cake for your birthday — with her as the head chef and satoru as her sous chef.

“it has to be perfect, papa! no more burning the pancakes in the morning or putting too much sugar.” gojo stifles a laugh at that; it seems that his baby girl had heard the many trivial mishaps that had happened in the kitchen, snapping out of his daze when his daughter lands a light slap on his cheek. “pay attention!” satoru fully laughs now, okay, okay! he says and they read through the recipe together — a family recipe passed down to you — and they try their best. the flour is a little messy, the sugar is a tad too much and satoru thinks he may have preheated the oven too high a heat, but then there’s the familiar smell of the vanilla extract and the rise of the cake in the tin. your baby cheers, collapsing into gojo’s arms in front of the oven and together on the floor, they watch the cake ascend.

“careful, baby, it’s hot.” gojo brings her away when the cake is finally done, dramatically smelling and letting out a sigh at it, “it smells really good, ain’t it?” she purses her lips and points to herself, “all due to me!” and gojo hums in agreement. he’s content to let his baby girl take all the credit when she’s looking as adorable like that, finding that her confidence is looking more and more like his while your kindness shows when she’s propped up on the kitchen island and saying, “but papa was the one who helped me pour everything! so maybe it’s because of both me and papa.”

the “thank you” that satoru whispers into his girl’s temple is a whisper, and the house falls into a comfortable, more calm atmosphere as they work on the icing together. it’s clear that all her excitement has caught up to her and she’s now feeling a little sleepy in between, only shooting up when gojo’s announced the icing’s all mixed properly. “happy . . birthday . . mama,” she draws out in the air with satoru’s finger clutched between her fist, a clear layout in her young mind that he had no choice but to listen (he would always listen), lathering first the white base icing before the pressuring job comes and his darling girl is looking at him with narrowed eyes, “don’t mess it up, papa!”

“i won’t—” and before gojo can start on the lettering, you’re depositing the house keys into the bowl your husband gifted you in high school, letting out a chuckle at the scene before you: the sorcerer’s face caked in white, vanilla extract and broken egg shells on the island and in the middle of it, your husband and your daughter looking like deer caught in headlights.

“hi, mama,” they say in unison and your grin only widens. you could hardly be mad when this doesn’t happen often, already knowing the occasion, but they seemed to be a little bummed out from being found out so you only hope your hug can make it up. your baby girl goes first: she squeals when she’s scooped into your arms, smile so bright it could mirror any angel in heaven. while she still pouts, she’s more than happy to wish you a happy birthday. “thank you, baby. was baking with papa fun?”

she nods so hard her whole body moves in your arms, “papa is very bad at measuring stuff, though.”

you burst out laughing while your husband falls into a greater pout than your daughter did, brushing off the flour from his arms and taking the both of you into his embrace, “she’s so mean to me, sweets.”

“i’m not, just telling the truth. mama, i was the head chef, so i get to say what he’s bad at.” gojo’s pout worsens and you coo, pulling him closer.

“yes, but daddy did help with everything, didn’t he?” you whisper, brushing away the strands that fall over her face. you’ve never really taken the time to take in everything: her white hair, those blue eyes that are a little darker, the lines at the side of her smile that look like yours. instinctively, your forehead rests against hers and upon feeling her nod, you think that this is all you need. “thank you, darling.” and your girl grins again when she feels your peck on her forehead. gojo only can look at his girls with a content smile, pout stretching into his face while his hand never stops caressing your back. “can daddy have a kiss too?”

that night when she’s put to sleep after much protest (you both give in and end up watching your favourite movie together as a present), you’re drawing circles on gojo’s bare chest which also has grown a little bit of hair. his lips upon your hair feels like a divine blessing; he speaks.

“happy birthday again, baby,” a kiss, “only if you came home a liiittle later, though.”

you laugh softly, “actually, i sort of heard your shenanigans when i was standing outside the front door.” satoru jerks from the comfortable position, prompting your head to hit the headboard in a loud ‘thud’.

“oops sorry, baby— but what?!”

you shake your head, roll your eyes, pull him back to tuck yourself under his chin, “you’re so damn dramatic. i just didn’t want to interrupt the both of you. you mean a lot to her, you know.”

gojo sighs, moving away a bit for your head to tilt up and his heart still pulls and tugs like so many years ago. if he recalls correctly, it’s just exactly like this that you shared your first kiss together, the line between friends and lovers blurring so much that all it took was your eyes staring into his to make him notice he never had infinity on around you.

“you made me forget what i was gonna say,” satoru mumbles, a laugh cutting through his features when you smile sheepishly. he copies your outburst, “you’re so damn beautiful.”

“and you mean a lot to her, too. we mean a lot to her — it’s the least we can do when you’ve brought such a beautiful baby into the world,” gojo mutters — it’s late and he’s slurring his words from the fatigue. his eyes glow under the night light and he holds on to you just a little tighter, “to give her a normal life.”

his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there’s the sheen of his tears again. “we will succeed, don’t you worry.” you silence his doubts with a kiss, “you’re doing a great job of a father, ‘toru. i will keep reminding you until my voice turns hoarse and i can’t speak.”

normally, he’d tease you but all it does is make the tears full spill over; but they’re happy this time. satoru only lets you catch his lips in a deep kiss, quietening his sobs as your hands fumble at his undercut and his face. you can hear the faint “thank you”’s he mumbles and you’re also close to crying, pulling away to admire him — god, you loved him so much you feel like you could collapse. he loved you so much he would do it all over again if it meant having you in every life.

“thank you for having me. thank you for loving me, baby,” satoru whispers, wiping at your tears as did you and he laughs, “dunno why we’re cryin’. s’pposed to be a happy moment.”

you huff (of course, he’d say something funny now), but that’s just one of many things you love about him. all you do is hold him closer that night and mutter a prayer — to virgin, to buddha, to anyone who would listen.

it might get difficult along the way: one of you may need to take on more missions, your baby will be growing up and heading to school. there will be difficult talks, puberty, tantrums, none of you were truly ready. and yet, despite it all, you’d still have your satoru, the one who made tsumiki and megumi into what they are today. despite it all, you’d still have each other and your darling girl, your family of gojo’s whose definition changed from suffocating to belonging. despite it all, as long as galaxies are created and supernovas happening and the planets revolve around the sun, it’d take light years for your love to diminish even one speck.

your love for each other could surpass the cosmos — that in itself is enough.

part two

#asks #anon #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader

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butdjgn · 1 year

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Don’t break it

Xavier Thorpe x reader

Disclaimer🔞: this fic is completely fake nothing in this story is factual, this story is rated meaning there is inappropriate material written. Please be advised. Thank you.

Ever since the beginning of school, Xavier has been starring at me. But I would be lying if I didn’t say I stared back. The tension is so addicting, it feels like he’s almost eye fucking me. Every single time we see eachother it’s always a contest seeing who is going to look away first, that became our thing. It wasn’t weird nor uncomfortable, that’s what I loved most about it. It’s like I can never get enough of him.

At first I was more rather curious than worried about him, I wanted to know who was staring at me often. I started to follow him and know his schedule, his routine, and everyday after school he goes to this secret shed. I’m not sure what’s in there and I want to find out. I know exactly where it is but I doubt I won’t have enough time to see.

Walking in the halls into my next class, I see Xavier on the balcony eye fucking me once more and leaning his body forward. Fuck he’s so hot. I decided to stand there making horrific eye contact. Looking at his body and into his eyes, man it makes me crave him every time. After a few seconds, he walks away like as if nothing happened. It was still sexy, I get a little excited walking to my last class of the day because I won eye contact.

48 minutes later, school is over.

I walk to my locker planning onto getting my things but when I open it, a piece of paper falls. Oh it’s a note.

Think you could stare at me like that? Come to the shed.

- Xavier

Fuck, he knows I followed him? I look at the note for a couple seconds and then place it in my pocket. Should i go..?

Ugh fuck it

I gather my things and go right where the shed is. I get there and the door is wide open. I peek in there and his back faced the door and I see all these drawings of what I think are girls? He’s painting another and it’s a body portrait. I invite myself in not thinking of it but to see what he’s truly drawing.

These portraits…. They’re me?

I see all of the drawings and it’s full of details of my face of me looking straight ahead at the viewer. Like it’s a photographed memory of us making eye contact. I can’t believe he’s this obsessed with me. It turns me on that the obsession is mutual.

I guess you caught me

I look at him, he can’t see me?

“What do you want”

Still painting the portrait, he continues.

I know you follow me around, you didn’t think id notice (y/n)?

He says my name so naturally, like he’s said it a thousand times. He gets up closing the door behind me. I stay in place, didn’t move a single muscle.

He comes from behind me and moved my hair off the side of my neck. He leans in stopping right before kissing it.

“It’s hard holding myself back from you, I don’t want to any longer.”

I turn over making full eye contact looking up at him.

“Nobody is stoping you”

He looks at me with shock, breathing hard slowly raising a smile. Slowly leaning in towards me, he suddenly smashes his lips with mine holding my face still making sure I’m not going anywhere. He picks me up and sits me on the table leaning over me with his hands catching him on the table. His heavy breathe turns me on so much. The way his body is reacting I know he was craving me. Standing straight, He opens my legs slowly rubbing my thighs with his long slim fingers. Looking at my facial expression. He reaches under my skirt touching my clothed clit. I love the way his cold fingers are petting against it.

He moves my panties to the side inserting his middle finger. He looks at you with a opened mouth.

“ fuck you’re so wet for me ”

“Anything for you”

He smiles and leans in again inserting another finger and pressing against your ‘spot’. Making it hard for you to kiss back. He giggles.

You’re so adorable y/n

He shifts up looking at you taking your panties completely off throwing them on the floor. Still eye fucking you he unbuckles his belt flipping his dick out. He inserts himself unannounced and it caugh you off guard.

“Mm you’re so warm. Fuck. You feel so good”.

He starts thrusting. Tell me how you started following me around. He commands me.

You’re eye contact- fuck…. It kept me interested…you’re body language was so fucking hot..mm..I wanted to know more about y-you..

He smiles letting it be known that he likes you feeling the exact same about him.

You wanted this for so long, huh?

“For so so long Xavier”

He lifts your legs grabbing your thigh and fucking ts out of you making you moan out of control. You look away closing your eyes trying to take his dick.

Don’t look away from me, or I’ll go even harder

“Maybe I want you to”

Yeah?

I nod. He gets closer spreading my legs and his hands on my waist. He fucks me so hard the table is hitting against the wall. I look up at him almost wanting to cry moaning in the process.

I know baby, I know.

He thrusts squeezing me so tightly it leaves a mark.

I’m s-so close

Lifting his head back, he pulls out just in time cumming on the floor. Relieving himself with his left hand breathing heavily.

#dirty fanfic #xavier Thorpe #smut #Xavier Thorpe smut #Wednesday adams ff #Xavier x reader #pov #imagine #xavier thrope imagine

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deadbeat-motel · 10 days

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ᗩᒪᗩᔕTOᖇ ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

I finally got to the design I hate the most, Alastor.

I'm not a fan of my design simplified to meet the cast's more cartoony style. I tried my best but might draw him some other time with my actual style.

Anyway, my thoughts are under the cut:

My issues with their Original designs:

What can I say that hasn't been already said by so many others?

Red overpowers his entire design and he barely stands out of the background, sometimes he blends with it at times.

Supposedly a mixed person yet the average audience member who watches the show with no context can't tell that he is. I don't want to hear about how mixed people can be pale-skinned because he was never written as a white-passing poc in mind. His Creole background was an excuse to use voodoo in the show and merchandising.

Another Vivzie character that dons a shoulder-padded suit. I believe he's one of the 5 others that has this repeating design trait (Angel Dust, Charlie, Pentious, Lucifer, Valentino, Vox)

His hair bothers me a lot. A 1930s man having a scene kid's haircut? I have a hard time believing that for the sake of the show. Also, not to mention he has that awkward undercut that ends up making him a scuffed Willy Wonka cosplayer.

Twink...

Personal tidbit, but I'm not sure what his staff's design even is? an egg with a microphone in it?

The thought process:

First of all, gave him a darker skin tone, that light grey doesn't cut it for me, unfortunately.

Also heard that his inspiration was Dr. Facilier and with that in mind, I wanted to make him look like him a bit more like him.

The mostly grey and black color palette was inspired by 99monchrome's take on Alastor. Teddy's take is pretty amazing.

If I remember, there was something about him being hunted and shot at like a deer while escaping the authorities. The headshot manifests as a small red X on his forehead.

Gave him a pencil moustache since I wanted him to look like a grown man in the 1930s. Plus, there is a seemingly noticeable lack of facial hair on every male character in this show. (If you're showing me an example of the opposite, please do not give me some background character or any Helluva boss character.)

An extra set of teeth will appear within the slits on his mouth, forming to prevent Alastor from being ever able to frown.

His mouth is also constantly bleeding.

A small detail that would be easy to miss but his eyes are radio dials.

He has a tail and fur on his body because I think it's cute.

Sort of like Velvette in the series, I do want to have Alastor drastically change hairstyles from time to time. Dreads, Twists, Straightened, Buzzed, etc.

A little detail just important to me is that his eyebrows go from thin to thick at its ends.

He does have fur all over his body.

#vivziepop critical #deadbeat motel rewrite #deadbeat motel redesign #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel redesign #deadbeat motel alastor

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justjams2003 · 11 months

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Cuddles for Breakfast

Happy father’s day, and to all those without fathers I hope you make the best of this day. This is here for a little celebration!

Pairing: Henry Cavill x wife!reader

Summary: You and your daughter surprise Henry for father’s day.

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Word count: 562

Her name is Sophia, it seemed so obvious when you held her in your hands for the first time. Henry agreed instantly. It was just something in her violently curly black hair and a button nose that just screamed Sophia. And before you knew she’s already three years old.

She’s grown up to be a confident little girl. Like said, she has Henry’s unruly black curls and his intense blue eyes. But your husband swears up and down that she has your attitude. A sharp tongue and even wiser than anyone outside your family would know.

“How do you feel, pretty girl?” You ask, watching as she analysis the hairdo you had done for her. “It’s perfect, Mommy.” Her eyes shine bright and she flashes you a smile directly stolen from your husband. You can’t help yourself and pepper kisses all over her little face. Watching her little button nose scrunch up.

A giggle pours out of the bathroom before you press your finger against your lip. “Shh, my smart girl, you’re gonna’ wake Papa up.” You wink at her as her eyes grow big and she shakes her head. Then you scoop her up and place her on your hip.

“Are you going to carry the presents, while Moma brings the food?” You explain, watching when you put her down and she pets Kal, who absolutely adores her. She mumbles an agreement and grabs the present. She scolds ever so slightly when he almost makes her trip.

You give her the go-ahead when you finally reach the bedroom. Both of you seem to stop and admire him sleeping so peacefully. His broad form takes up most of the bed. His chest rise and fall and his own curls splayed across his cushion and forehead.

That is quickly interrupted by Soph running and jumping on the bed. “Papa, papa! Wake up, wake up!” She screams with glee, seeing out so much to this. Since you told her what you were planning, she’s been ‘planning’ with you.

Now, finally, that the time has come she is just bouncing with excitement. Henry’s blue eyes snap open, thinking the worst before seeing his little girl beam down at him. His hands reach up and grab her, also peppering her with kisses.

“Good morning, my two most special girls.” He beams at you, gently grabbing your arm after you place the breakfast tray in his lap. Placing affable kissing on your wrist. “And why am I being so spoiled this morning?” He asks little Sophia, pulling her close into his side.

“Happy Father’s Day, papa!” she grins handing him her present package. He can already feel the tears forming. He never thought that this would happen. That he would be in such a position to have two of his own beautiful girls pampering him.

“Really?” He canvases your facial expression, still struggling to believe that this is his life. “Yes, papa. Open your present.” His little girl answers for you and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to say no. He does as instructed, cooing and praising Sophia for her many Father’s Day paintings and drawings, all covered with glitter of course.

Then he pulls out the new Warhammer painting set, limited edition, you got him and a fancy bottle of decades-old Bourbon. And after that, he shares his breakfast and cuddles his girls close.

#henry cavill #henry cavill dad #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill drabble #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x wife!reader #dad!henry cavill #dad!henry cavill x reader

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riizebabie444 · 1 year

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your future spouse’s love language

hi! i'm pearl and i’m so happy you chose this reading ♡ today’s reading is all about the love language of your future spouse and how they express it. this is my first pac on this blog so I hope you enjoy!

♡ disclaimer ♡ please remember that all tarot readings posted on this blog are for fun and entertainment; you should not refer to these readings as a replacement for advice or guidance on serious matters.

reblogs are appreciated, as is feedback! find more pac’s in my masterlist! check out my paid readings and exchange readings! and donations are greatly appreciated ♡

♥︎ pile 1 ♥︎

♡ love language ♡

quality time + acts of service

♡ how they express love ♡

i immediately see that this person is not a touchy–feely type; they don’t particularly enjoy or feel comfortable with physical touch, especially the type you might expect in a relationship. so, physical touch is definitely on the bottom of the list of their love languages. however, they do like holding your hand and burying their face in your body. and it is clear to me that quality time is very important to them.

this person loves deep conversations; i’m hearing, in particular, the half–full/half–empty debate. i believe it is of importance to them and may be a deciding factor in whether or not they want to pursue you. they seem like the type of person who would use this debate or others like it to judge other people. but regardless, i think they are genuinely a philosophical person; they love talking with you, getting to the roots of your brain and heart, finding out how you feel and why you feel those things so they can know you better.

i think they’re quite a sensitive person; i have reason to believe that for some of you reading this, your future spouse may have grown up with separated or divorced parents, or a broken family in general. this reflects a lot in how they allow themselves to love. they don’t like touch or pda because they very rarely saw it with their own parents. they also may have not received a lot of attention as a child, and this is why quality time is important to them.

i’m seeing art very prominently, so either them or you could be artists. i said quality time and i definitely think expressing yourselves together creatively would be fun to do. maybe art dates, or walks in nature and under the stars to gain inspiration for art. and other activities like pottery class or bouquet making, they might take you to a wreath making class do you can make one together for your home in the holidays; if there's anything fun and creative to do, they want to do it with you.

they have a rough edge that is hard to crack through. but they are driven and if they are serious about you, they will put in the effort. i’m seeing acts of service, like always paying for meals and bringing/making you coffee and driving you to where you need to go. it would also be hard to read their facial expressions, but they are soft for you on the inside and you will know this because of all the little things they do for you.

♡ symbols and signs ♡

clouds, paint/drawing/art, crying, the letter s, a white horse or other white animals (such as a dog or cat), heterochromia, gemini, 5, tree, stars, 32, mythology, leo/5th house, opiuchus, dark brown hair, roses, water signs.

♡ cards ♡

the artist, knight of swords, the lovers rv, five of cups rv

♥︎ pile 2 ♥︎

♡ love language ♡

acts of service, gift giving + quality time

♡ how they express love ♡

from them, i am getting the image of an angel who gives. they are a generous person; they like giving to support you. whether it is extravagant gifts or simply helping you in giving you what you need to get by. i see both ends of the spectrum — for some of you, they will be able to give you expensive and fancy things, and for some of you, they will not be as disposable with their income but will still give to you because they care about you.

gold is popping out a lot, so maybe gold jewellery or other gold gifts, or maybe they like gold wrapping paper. and it is not subjective – it can be anything deemed precious, like gold. but i also see they are quite moderate, so they prefer to give gifts with deep thought and meanings to them rather than going straight for the most expensive and fancy looking item in the store.

i see this person with a lot of fears and anxieties in regards to the relationship they have with you, and they may also worry you feel the same way. and it’s normal to have these feelings at some point in a relationship. so, i think they’d be urged to give more gifts when they have those worries. they want to appeal to you with generosity which could turn into an unhealthy habit, so keep an eye out for those who this resonates with.

bringing you water on a hot day — this image feels really clear. maybe those of you reading this live in a hot country, or really like hot weather. i see the sun bright in the sky and they’re worried you may be dehydrated or suffering from heatstroke, so they will always make sure you are drinking enough water, especially during hot weather.

and carrying on with the topic of sun, there’s a scene where the sun is touching the horizon. perhaps you guys went to watch the sun set after a date. gold rays are coming in strongly, so it might be your guys’ thing – watching the sun set or rise and leaving the curtains open in your home so the rooms can fill with warm, bright light from the sun. consistency is important to them, so little routines like these that you both enjoy makes them feel so special and they love being reminded that you are there to experience these moments with them.

♡ symbols and signs ♡

sagittarius, water signs, flowing water, nightmares, sun, jupiter, marigolds, sunset and/or sunrise, 10, wings, studio ghibli, unhealthy habits, summer, 444

♡ cards ♡

temperance, nine of swords, knight of cups, seven of wands.

♥︎ pile 3 ♥︎

♡ love language ♡

physical touch, quality time + words of affirmation

♡ how they express love ♡

with two kings here, i definitely see they are very vocal and confident with their words. they seem like the person who always speaks their mind, whether they are expressing happy thoughts or bad ones. that also means they will make it clear when they are upset or angry, but it also means they will clear any doubts you have and make sure you know that they love you.

although, for some of you, i see that your future spouse could be the type who falls silent when they are angry, but even in this case, they will eventually tell you what the issue is and make it clear that their feelings for you don’t change so easily.

in particular, i hear “you’re the best!” and grabbing your head and kissing you on the forehead. “i’m so lucky,” “i couldn’t have figured this out without you,” and “you look great in that outfit,” are what i’m also hearing. i think for some of you, your future spouse will be the type of person who has a catchphrase, like “i’m impressed,” or something along those lines. this is just what i heard, but it could be anything, and they will tend to use it to boost your confidence, and also when they are trying to flirt with you.

they obviously love to spend time with you, but i think they will particularly love holidays with you. i’m seeing quiet villas in countries along the equator, maybe that resonates with some of you. for others, i see the coast. peaceful getaways are like a goldmine to them; they may not happen a lot but when they do, they have the best times of their lives with you.

and holding hands is so prominent. just hands in general. even if you’re holding something else in your hand, they will take it and replace it with their own hand. physical touch like cuddling and kissing would take place, but for them, touching you with their hands is what fulfils them. it’s the fact that you are real and touchable so they always need that reality check to ensure you’re really there. and if you like all the touching, then they will do it tenfold. holding hands, or their hands roaming all over your body; whatever it is, they will almost always have their hands on you.

♡ symbols and signs ♡

323, twice (kpop girl group), coasts, nice hands, black birds, italy, blue skies, 11, magpies, graduation, purple gown, olives, pastel colours, chameleon, green, greece

♡ cards ♡

ace of swords, two of wands, king of wands, king of swords

#pac #tarot #tarot reading #tarot pac #pick a card #tarot pick a card #tarot pick a pile #future spouse #future spouse tarot reading #fs pac #jella’s readings

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literatureatthebowofnails · 6 months

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A/N: Looking forward to your feedback

Series masterlist

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: Your first trip to Asgard

Warnings: Vomiting, fluff, angst

You land on Asgard, clutching Loki's arm in a death grip. Your nails dig into the black leather of his jacket, knuckles white as you fight to keep down your breakfast.

At Loki's other side, Steve Rogers grasps Thor's shoulder to steady himself. Beside you, Director Fury stands almost entirely still, the only sign of movement a slight flapping of his coat.

"Welcome to..."

"I'm going to be sick," you cut off the gatekeeper, releasing Loki and running to spill the churning contents of your stomach off the bridge.

You look up and see a grand procession approaching from further down, their guilded armor bright in the morning sun. Leading the group are four warriors: a stunning dark-haired woman, a blonde with a charming grin, a stout soldier sporting wild facial hair, and an overly serious crusader.

You wipe your mouth, feeling better but still unsteady on your feet as you return to the circular chamber. "Sorry," you mutter.

"Don't worry about it," Steve says. "I was a mess on my first visit."

"Um, thanks." You don't really believe him.

"I am Heimdall," the golden god continues, unfazed by your interlude. "Gatekeeper of Asgard, protector of the Bifrost, and seer of all things."

At this point, the entourage arrives. "May I present Lady Sif, the Warriors Three and the Einherjar," Thor makes your introductions, noting that Rogers and Fury are already acquainted with the leaders.

Three horses are presented for your journey to the palace. You perch nervously at the front of your saddle, grasping the horn for dear life. Loki swings up gracefully behind you and reaches around to control the reigns.

"It's alright, darling," he coos, wrapping an arm snuggly about your middle. "Nótt is steady and true. He will deliver us safely, I guarantee it."

You take a breath, trying not to shudder or look beyond the bridge. "It's my first time."

"And you're doing splendidly," he hugs you closer and you begin to relax as you watch Steve cling to Thor's waist.

Fury kicks his steed to a trot, joining Hogun at the head of the group.

☕

The five of you gather in an antechamber, preened and swathed in Asgardian finery. Rogers and Fury are called first, leaving to greet the court. After some time, you and Loki are announced.

He takes your hand, placing it around his arm before entering the grand golden hall. You walk side by side down the long aisle to the throne. Loki's steps are assured, his pace steady, honed jaw set in determination. The crowd claps respectfully, their observance subdued, even hesitant.

You reach the stairs below the throne and bend in a nervous curtsy. The prince gives his father a minimal bow; enough to show the necessary respect, but not a hair more.

"My son," Odin addresses Loki. You watch as his lip gives a slight twitch of irritation. "Welcome home."

"Father," comes the strained reply.

He then turns to the stately woman on your left. "Mother," he greets with a warm smile.

The queen comes to bestow a kiss on each of her son's cheeks. "It's so good to have your home." She turns to beam at you. "And you must be the gracious lady my sons speak so highly of!"

Loki provides your name and you exchange pleasantries with his parents before standing beside the queen, opposite Steve and Fury.

"Thor Odinson!" the herald bellows, followed by a roar of cheers and clapping from the crowd. The crown prince swings his hammer around, eliciting further excitement. You give Loki's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Father! Mother," Thor greets as he approaches, kneeling before the throne. "It has been too long."

"Too long indeed," Odin beams with pride for his first born. "I fear that if it were not for these mandatory check-ins, I we would never see you."

"I was here only a month ago," Thor's brows draw together in confusion before he brightens like a lightbulb. "Loki and I will make a point to visit more often." The dark-haired bother exhales a measured breath beside you. You doubt he plans to follow though with that promise.

☕

While the king reviews his youngest's contributions to Earth's safety, Queen Frigga invites you to tea.

Guiding you along a winding garden path, the matriarch asks how you and Loki are settling into your new space. She listens with interest to the explanation of your minimalist design preferences and methods taken to assimilate his more extravagant leanings.

Eventually you reach a grand birch tree. Beneath it sits a table set for two. A tiered tray boasts bite size sandwiches, petits fours, fruit, and madeleines. Small jars of curd, cream, jam, and honey surrounded it, with a heaping plate of scones and large pot of tea to complete the spread.

"I'm impressed to hear how well you collaborate with my youngest," Frigga comments as she pours your tea. "He's not always the most amiable, but he's unfeigned when it comes to you."

You smile, adding cream to cool your steaming china cup. "I think people rely too much on first impressions. Though impulsively acting superior when he feels insecure doesn't exactly help matters."

The queen nearly spills her tea, covering a smile. "That's quite an astute observation."

As your meal comes to a close, Loki appears. "I take it you're becoming better aquainted?"

"We are indeed," Frigga confirms. "I'm so glad you've finally introduced us."

"Mother," Loki smiles, "you know you're always welcome to visit Midgard."

"Maybe we should make a formal invitation?" you suggest.

Your trio walks slowly back to the palace, discussing potential opportunities for the king and queen to visit New York. A pattern forms with Loki suggesting inconsequential dates, and Frigga being forced to "remind" him they're during occasions that require the Alfather's presence onworld.

Before you part ways, Loki stops a passing servant and requests they show you to his chambers, noting he requires a moment alone with his mother. You say your goodbyes to the queen until supper and her son assures he'll join you imminently.

Tags in comments because I got trigger-happy posting this one 😆

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slicedmayonnaise · 2 months

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I want to take a moment to talk about one of my favorite characters in RDR2: Kieran Duffy.

I've seen a few posts on my timeline recently about him and people's different interpretations of him and head canons of him. So, I'm going to add my two cents.

Now, this is my personal head canon about what type of person Kieran is and some of this may be GROSS mischaracterization.

Let's begin with the facts.

Kieran is NOT some weak, innocent, stuttering, scared man. He IS the sassy man apocalypse! He is not afraid to stand up for himself or others when he feels he needs to. He saves Arthur, for one. He is also one of the characters who can knock Arthur out and kick him out of camp when he's being an asshole. We can also see him standing up for himself to people like Javier and Sean during camp interactions. He also draws his pistol when Milton and Ross show up to camp and threaten the gang in chapter 3. He is an army vet and was part of another gang before he was taken by the O'Driscolls.

Now let's get into my personal head canons.

First of all, I don't believe Kieran Duffy is actually his name. When Arthur first asks Kieran his name, he says "I don't know" and after Arthur threatens him a bit more, he comes up with Kieran Duffy. And we of course know outlaws are notorious for using pseudonyms. We see the others use them constantly throughout the game.

Why would Kieran lie about his name though? Easy. Because he is actually secretly a badass, cold-blodded ex gang leader.

Stay with me now.

I believe Kieran was actually the leader of the gang he ran with before the O'Driscolls. And I believe he was a big time outlaw just like Colm or Dutch or Flaco Hernandez.

Why? Because why would Colm waste his time attacking and kidnapping some random guy he found camping in the woods? There had to be a reason. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's rewind.

I believe in leading his gang, Kieran became greedy and corrupt, just like Dutch did. And I believe he, like Dutch, led all of the men (and maybe women) that followed him straight to hell. One by one, they were picked off, just like with the Van Der Linde gang. And I believe the last of them were killed when Colm attacked. Maybe he was originally after Kieran for the price on his head, but decided he was more valuable to him alive. Surely if he's a big time outlaw, Kieran had thousands of dollars stashed away, which Colm would have obviously taken along with Kieran. Maybe the money he got from Kieran was more than the reward he would've gotten for Kieran's head, so he gave Kieran the choice to work for him or die with the last of his gang. Kieran obviously chose to work for Colm because he was afraid to die.

Obviously, Kieran would have felt a lot of guilt because of his gang, and would have gone through a lot of torture at the hands of the O'Driscolls. We can see in the beginning of the game that Colm is abusive towards him, which isn't surprising. He is also malnourished prior to the gang starving him as a means of making him talk. And let's look at how horrified he is at the thought of betraying Colm. He says himself that Colm is an evil man, and he expresses to Sean how scared he is of Colm. This experience would've definitely humbled him and watered him down from the tough outlaw he once was. Much like John, he no longer wanted to be a part of the outlaw life. He just wanted to live quietly with his horses and go fishing. And that's the version we get of him after he finally settles in with the Van Der Linde gang.

I also think Kieran is bisexual and gender fluid. I think he was a lot for femme presenting before he got taken by the O'Driscolls, just given his mannerisms and the way his hair is cut. It looks like he had long hair and chopped it all off Mulan style. I believe, similarly to Javier in rdr1, he stopped taking care of his looks after he joined up with Colm. He cut his hair and let his facial hair grow out, as he lost his desire for vanity.

#anyways thats my rant #live laugh love kieran duffy #kieran rdr2 #kieran duffy #i love kieran #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #rdr #red dead redemption two #red dead #red dead 2

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rubyreduji · 1 year

Text

charcoal stained hands — wjh

summary: jun falls in love on a tuesday afternoon in an art studio

tags: fluff, college!au, artist!reader, gn!reader wc: 3.1k an: perpetuating the sexy artist trope im sorry. also i apparently don’t know how to characterize jun so if it’s off don’t tell me

Jun’s never been inside the art building before. He’s not really the artsy type so he’s never had a reason to, but now he’s gotten himself a bit lost as he wanders around the building looking for his best friend.

The art building is huge with multiple floors and lots of long winding hallways that lead to nowhere. Not to mention the countless number of studios that Minghao could be hiding out in. This could take him all day just to find one person.

Jun turns the corner and walks right into a drawing studio. The room has a high ceiling and there’s easels and stools all over the room. There’s only one person occupying the room.

You sit on a stool, frowning at a half filled piece of paper. There’s black charcoal all over your hands and up your arms and smeared across your jeans. The drawing itself looks to be a portrait of someone, but it hasn’t taken enough from yet for Jun to guess who it is.

You turn when you hear someone approaching and Jun has to take a moment to take all of you in. Jun’s never been someone who believes in love at first sight, but he just might now. You’re probably the most beautiful person Jun has ever seen in his life, and he’s friends with Jeonghan.

Everything about you is perfect from your facial features to the style of your hair to the clothes you’re wearing. It wouldn’t surprise Jun if a glowing halo just appeared atop your head.

“Oh, hi.” Even your voice is pretty. “Are you looking for something?”

It takes Jun a few more seconds to realize you’re talking to him. “Uh, more like someone. Would you possibly happen to know where Xu Minghao is?”

“Minghao…Minghao…”

“You might know him as Myungho?”

“Oh Myungho! Yes, I actually do know where he is. Here let me show you, it’s easy to get lost in this building.” Jun doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’s already lost just standing in this room.

You jump up from where you are sitting and quickly wipe your hands off on a towel sitting on your easel. Your hands are still covered in the black pigment but it doesn’t seem to phase you as you make your way out of the room, Jun following behind you.

“I haven’t seen you around the art building before. Are you new?”

“No, I’m a second year, I’ve just never made my way into the art building before. I’m usually over in the dance studios,” Jun explains.

“Oh, the dance studios? Do you and Myungho dance together?”

“Yeah we do, but we go way back. He’s my best friend.”

“Oh, you’re Jun!” You turn around to look at Jun directly, your face lighting up. Jun flushes from how pretty your smile is. “Myungho talks about you all the time. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You two walk for a bit more in silence before Jun starts another conversation. “So, are you an art major?”

“Yep! I love art, all kinds of it. Thankfully I’m pretty good at it as well,” you giggle. “Are you a dance major or is it just a hobby?”

“I’m a dance major. Being a dancer is the only thing I’ve wanted ever since I was little.”

“Wow, that’s so cool. I’ll have to come see you and Myungho dance sometime. I love dance, but that’s one art form I personally do not excel at. Oh, speaking of Myungho, here we are! He should be right in there.” You lift your hand to point into the studio but you accidentally brush Jun’s hand while you do, rubbing charcoal dust onto Jun’s skin. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, it’ll wash off,” Jun reassures you, more focused on the tingling sensation your touch left rather than the black marks it left. “Thank you for guiding me here though.”

“Of course! See you around Jun!” With that you head back off to where you came from and Jun heads into the studio you lead him too, his mind still flooded with thoughts of you.

Just like you said, Minghao is standing at a canvas, glaring at it. It’s blank except for two small blue marks that look like Minghao tried to wipe them off with his hand.

“Minghao,” Jun approaches the younger boy.”

“Jun,” Minghao says when he turns to face his friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been texting you all afternoon and you never responded so I decided to come find you.”

“What did you need?”

“That’s not important anymore, I need you to tell me who this person was.”

Jun describes you to Minghao who takes a moment to contemplate who Jun may be talking about. “Ah, you’re thinking of Y/N. Why? Did you meet them?”

Once Minghao says the name it clicks in Jun’s mind who you are. Like Minghao has talked about Jun to you, he’s talked about you to Jun. Minghao has mentioned a couple times of how you’re some art prodigy who practically lives in the art building. Minghao has been lucky to get close to you as it seems that as friendly as you are, you don’t have very many friends.

Minghao assumes it’s because almost everyone in the art department is obsessed with you, desperate to gain your attention. Jun can see why now. He figured it was just to trade art tips or to get close to someone who is the professors’ favorite, which might actually be a part of it, but it’s not unlikely there are ulterior motives as well.

“Yeah they showed me to this room. You never told me they’re gorgeous.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I didn’t know that was something I had to state. C’mon, don’t be like all the other jerks who inhabit this place.”

“I’m not trying to be! I’m just saying that they’re very attractive. And nice.”

“I know that. If you remember, they’re my friend, not yours. Now what did you actually need me for?”

“Hoshi is calling an emergency dance crew meeting.”

Minghao just sighs and moves to put away his art supplies.

Your existence in Jun’s mind has waived for the time being until he walks into dance practice one day and there you’re standing, talking to Hoshi and Minghao. Jun hesitantly approached the group, a bit nervous to be in your presence again. You don’t seem nervous to be around Jun though as you shoot him a giant smile.

“Jun! Hi. Soonyoung is allowing me to sit in on practice so I can work on drawing figures in action.” You point over to a folding chair in the corner where a sketchbook and a pencil bag sit. “Don’t worry, I won’t be in the way. It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

You move over to where you’re stationed and Hoshi starts to lead stretches. Jun can’t help but keep taking glances over at you. Despite being the one performing, you’re wildly more interesting in this moment.

Jun studies the way your eyes flit over his and the other’s forms, dissecting every move made. Concentration has settled into your face and Jun doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone be beautiful while being serious. There are moments where you chew at your lip, like you’re contemplating your next move, before you make a mark on your page. Your eyes stay on the bodies in front of you, more than the page you’re drawing on. It’s like your eyes are laser focused on the dancers, not wanting to miss a single move.

At some point Jun comes to the realization that you’re also performing your own kind of dance, choreographed between you and your paper. Your arm and wrist move fluidly, creating swift and smooth marks on the paper. Just as much detail goes into your drawing as it goes into Jun’s movements. It makes him think about how you called dancing a form of art. You are aware of all the time and effort that goes into a performance because you put the same amount of time and effort into your pieces.

Practice is over before Jun knows it and he realizes that he spent the whole time staring at you rather than actually doing what he was supposed to. He can’t do anything about it now other than hope for forgiveness from Hoshi.

After Jun is done packing up his things he walks over to you where you’re still adding finishing touches to your work. You look up when Jun stops next to you. He looks down at your page and is amazed to see all of the figures filled on your page. Your drawings are as fluid as the dance moves they were performing and Jun doesn’t think he’s ever seen a sketch that so perfectly communicates what was happening in real life.

“Wow Y/N, your work is incredible,” Jun tells you.

“Oh, thank you. They’re not my best though. I was so entranced by you guys dancing. You guys are amazing, I could barely look away,” you gush. “I love the way you move in particular. Your limbs are just so long they move so smoothly. I’d honestly love to do a study on you and draw you more. Sorry if that’s weird. Sometimes art takes over my brain before I can think before I speak.”

“No, that’s not weird at all. I’d be honored to be drawn by you. I’m not kidding when I said our work is incredible.”

“Would you actually let me draw you?” Your face lights up at the proposition.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oh my god, that would be amazing! Here let me give you my number and we can coordinate times to meet up and discuss more.” You quickly scribble your phone number down on the corner of your sketchbook and rip it off to hand to Jun. Just like before your hands are covered in your art medium (graphite this time) with some of it even rubbing off on the paper you’re holding out to Jun.

Jun takes it and tries not to be too excited to receive the piece of paper. You quickly bid your goodbyes and Jun thinks about how quickly he can text you without it being weird.

You two decided to meet up later in the week back in the painting studio. You’re already there when Jun walks in. Your supplies are all laid out and it seems you’ve already applied an underpainting on your canvas.

You light up when you see your model walk into the room. “Jun! Yay, I’m glad you didn’t get lost getting here. I was thinking that you could just pose here for me. I just love your body, your limbs are beautiful. Just spread out, something dynamic, yeah?”

You’re nearly rambling as you talk but Jun just goes along with it. He moves to the center of the room where there’s a small platform. He steps onto it and looks back at you to make sure he’s doing it right. You help guide him into a pose that’s both visually pleasing and comfortable for Jun to hold.

“Not to be weird or anything, but you are really pretty. Just aesthetically attractive,” you say to him as you start to sketch out his figure.

“O-oh, thanks.” Jun’s face starts to heat up. He hopes you don’t notice. “I uhm, think you’re pretty too. You and your art.”

You laugh a bit. “The art probably more so, but thank you.”

You and Jun continue to make conversation while you lay your pigments down on the canvas in bold, confident strokes with your brush. Outside of being drop dead gorgeous, you’re also just a genuinely nice person to be around. The conversation flows well between you and Jun and it seems you guys even have the same sense of humor.

“Here, you probably need a break. Let’s order lunch, yeah? On me.” You set your paint brush down. You pick up your phone to look up nearby restaurants. “Hmm. Or, I know this place close by. We could go and get lunch and get out of the studio all together.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Jun says as he internally freaks out a bit. It’s obviously not a date, you’re just being nice, but still it makes him giddy and slightly flustered.

You gather your things and start out the door, Jun following behind you. As you walk Jun glances over at you and smiles a bit. There’s something endearing about how whenever you’re creating art you make a mess. It’s all a part of the process and Jun thinks that it would honestly be weird to see your hands not covered in some kind of medium. There are paint splotches all over your hands and arms and Jun can’t tell if you don’t notice them or just don’t care. Maybe it’s both.

The walk to the spot you were talking about isn’t long and you buy both you and Jun a sandwich.

“Thanks for doing this for me. I know you probably didn’t plan on spending the whole day with me.”

“It’s okay,” Jun reassures you, and he means it, “I like spending time with you.”

You smile at Jun. “I like spending time with you too.”

Ever since the first time you worked on your painting of Jun you guys have been spending more time together, whether it’s to work on art, or just enjoy each other’s presence. Your painting of Jun still isn’t finished but you don’t seem to be in any rush and Jun enjoys being your ‘muse’ as you call him.

You and Jun are hanging out together in the painting studio when Minghao walks in. He rolls his eyes at the sight of you two.

“You know Y/N was my friend first,” Minghao complains as he approaches you guys.

“It’s not my fault they enjoy my company more,” Jun shrugs.

“Hey, I enjoy you both!” You interject.

“But I’m your favorite, right?” Jun looks over at you.

“You would just love that, wouldn’t you Jun?” Minghao teases. Jun’s crush on you hasn’t gone away and Minghao knows that. He never misses a chance to make a dig at Jun for it.

“It’s not my fault you won’t model for me,” you say to Minghao, ignoring the comments both boys just made. “Jun here at least appreciates my art.”

“I appreciate your art and you know I do.” Minghao rolls his eyes.

“Sure, sure,” you sigh dramatically. “At least I still have Junhui.” You drape yourself over Jun with false despair. Minghao doesn’t seem to appreciate your dramatics but Jun lets out a chuckle. “See, he also appreciates my humor.”

Minghao ignores you. “I’m just here to grab the coat I left earlier. Make sure to go wash your hands when you’re done Y/N, there’s still ink all over the keys to the printmaking studio.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, not caring to listen to Minghao’s advice. Minghao just sighs and makes his exit. “He just can’t appreciate good art making techniques.”

“I like how you get messy when you make your art. It’s cute.”

“Aww thanks Jun. I just don’t have time to be neat about it and it makes it more fun! It's like I’m a part of the art piece as well. If you can’t get a little messy while making art then what’s the point?”

“You really are something amazing L/N Y/N,” Jun says.

“I think you’re talking about yourself there, Moon Junhui. Have you seen yourself dance? It’s beautiful.” Your voice softens a bit as you look at Jun in the eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

“Y/N?”

“Will you go out with me?” The words leave your mouth in a whisper. You’re still staring into Jun’s eyes, your face painted with worry.

“I- uh, yes!” God Jun wishes he was cool. “Wait- wait, you like me? You like me back? You just asked me out?”

“Has it not been obvious?” You laugh a little bit. “Of course I like you, why do you think I spend so much time with you? I compliment you all the time.”

“I thought you were just being nice!”

“I don’t like people! Hasn’t Myungho told you that?” Now that Jun thinks about it, Minghao has told him that. Huh. Maybe Jun is just oblivious.

“I’ve liked you since I first saw you,” Jun admits, “sitting in that drawing studio with charcoal all over your hands. Ever since then I’ve been telling myself that you’d never like me back and here we are.”

“The moment I saw you dance I was gone for. Why do you think I’ve made you my muse?” Jun cannot believe this. “I don’t just call you attractive for no reason. You are very pretty Jun.”

“Minghao is never going to believe this,” Jun whispers and you laugh.

“Y/N-ah!” Jun comes barreling into the drawing studio. You’re sitting at a stool in front of a canvas, just like so many months ago when Jun first met you. You’re working on a charcoal drawing once again, this time it’s a self portrait.

There’s a mirror set up next to you and a scowl plastered on your actual face. You turn when you hear your boyfriend approaching and suddenly a smile spreads across your mouth. “Junnie!” You stand up and run over to your boyfriend.

You grab his face and press a kiss to his lips.

“Baby,” Jun laughs. “Your hands.”

You pull away and look at your hands as if you’re just now noticing the charcoal dust all over your fingertips. Jun’s not actually upset though as this is nearly a daily occurrence. You decide to make the best of it and take your thumb and swipe it against Jun’s cheek twice.

Jun moves over to the mirror to look at himself and see the small charcoal heart you’ve smeared onto his cheek. Jun turns back to you and kisses you again.

“So I called you here for a reason,” you say as you move around the room, grabbing a canvas sitting in the corner. “Look what I’ve finished.”

You turn the canvas around to reveal the painting of Jun you started the first time you two spent time together. The painting perfectly captures Jun’s atmosphere when he’s dancing. The painting is fluid and colorful and Jun can barely believe it’s him in the piece.

“Oh wow Y/N this is…stunning,” Jun says.

“I’m pretty proud of it and I’m even more proud of what came out of it,” you say with a cheesy grin on your face.

“Oh you wanna kiss me so badly right now,” Jun teases. You don’t respond, just lean forward and press your lips to Jun’s cheek on the heart you made.

“Let’s go get lunch, yeah? We can talk about my next portrait of you.” You motion to grab Jun’s hand and Jun happily accepts, along with all of the charcoal stains that come with it.

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written-in-flowers · 1 year

Text

Nameday: Madam Rosetta’s

Pairing: chubby!Aegon ii x plussize!fem!reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 5k

Summary: After a lovely theatre performance, Aegon takes you on his next stop in the Nameday surprises: a trip to The Red Rosetta, a lovely brothel located in the middle of the Street of Silk.

Tags: general brothel atmosphere, bisexual reader(?), voyeurism, slight choking, vaginal fingerings, body worship, anal sex, multiple positions, multiple sex rounds, light choking, spanking, facials,

Previous Chapter: Nameday: The Theatre

Next Chapter: Nameday: The Feast

****

After seeing the rest of the square, Aegon led you down another street. The scantily clad women standing outside doorways or hanging out windows, you guessed you'd come onto the Street of Silk. A long path of brothels entertaining all manner of debauchery lined the streets. It surprised you to find people going through this place during the day. You always assumed people came at night to avoid awkward questions or suspicions. You supposed that must be only you.

"And now, my love, our final stop of the day," he smiled at you, bringing you to the doorstep of one brothel.

"A brothel?" You laughed in disbelief. "Surely, you are not serious. Aegon, we're in the middle of the street. There are people around and we're not disguised.”

"So? People will recognize us disguised or not," he shrugged. "Besides, nobody will see what I'm going to do to you behind these doors. Madam Rosetta's establishment is very discreet."

"I doubt that."

He used the curved metal knocker and waited. In seconds a woman answered the door. Her brown curly hair pinned up, she wore several necklaces and rings with her loose fitting tunic. She smiled coyly at Aegon.

"My King," she bowed her head, "Such a pleasure to see you again. How can my girls and I help you?"

"I wish to show my lady your establishment. I believe she'll enjoy it far more than any other on the street," he said, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Madam Rosetta looked over at you with interest. You forced yourself to keep eye contact even though you imagined everything she must be thinking. "Ah, I see. Well, we're always eager to please our guests, no matter their parts," she winked at you and your stomach fluttered. "Step right in, Your Grace."

Aegon let you walk inside first. A wide room of plush furniture and colorful drapes over the open windows, women who wore close to nothing moved about the room. They kept their bodies on full display for the male guests occupying the room, but you did your best not to draw attention to it. You did not know what to do. You suddenly felt overdressed in a room of half naked people. Standing awkwardly as Aegon spoke with Madam Rosetta, you spotted two women dancing on a platform in the center of the room. They both wore harnesses of thin gold chains, revealing their full nakedness underneath. Your eyes glued to them in intrigue. One woman bent her body completely backwards, so her lower half was exposed to the room while her head touched the floor.

"Doesn't that hurt?" You bursted out before you stopped yourself. "Bending so far like that?"

The woman, with jade green eyes and fiery red curls, laughed at your innocence. "Not that much, my lady," she said, kneeling back up, "I'm very flexible." She twirled around so her legs spread out in a split. Your cheeks grew hot and you looked away. "Do not be shy, lovely," she said, crawling over to you. "There is nothing wrong with nakedness.” She rolled her hips again until she sat in front of you, legs closed but knees drawn up. “What brings you to our little home, my lady? I hope it is for what so many do come for.”

You gulped, then said, “My…Well…” your tongue tied itself in your mouth, and your brain swam. Perhaps you drank more than you thought. Perhaps it’s the woman’s dazzling eyes watching you closely.

“I take it this is your first time here?”

“In a brothel at all.”

“In that case,” she knelt up so you saw the full extent of her, “Allow me to give you a nice, warm welcome to The Red Rosetta. Is there something specific you’d like, my lady?” she moved closer to you. “Would you like to touch me or should I touch you?

"Well, uh, um, well, I…I’ve never…”

"I’ll teach you, sweetling,” She tucked a hair behind your ear, and said, "If coin is the matter, then you can keep it. I never charge my female customers."

You stood flustered by her attention. "It appears you've met Lia, Your Grace," Rosetta came up beside you with Aegon behind her. "As you can see, she's very friendly to new customers. Do you enjoy women, Your Grace?"

"Um, uh, well, I've never-" you looked between Lia and Rosetta.

Rosetta chuckled fondly, "Have no fear, Your Grace. Every woman who comes here is a novice in the pleasurable arts. But believe me, they leave experts."

You gulped and suddenly the entire room felt suffocating. Your eyes looked to Aegon, who smiled amusedly as he sipped from a wine cup. It’d be like him to bring you here; you should not be so surprised. Madam Rosetta took you by the hand gently and led you away from Lia, who pouted and continued her dancing routine. Aegon came up behind you as the madam gave you a tour of her brothel.

"We can invite her to join us if you like," Aegon said in your ear. "I'd love to watch you with another woman."

"Uh, well, I don't know if…" you fiddled with the belt around your waist, playing with the fabric between your fingers. The idea of you nude with anyone other than Aegon gave you sweaty palms. Aegon constantly admired you when you undressed, but you imagined not many others would. "I've…I didn't even consider that before…"

"We don't have to," he assured you. "We can keep it only us. I prefer it that way," he pecked your shoulder comfortingly, "I already share you with Aemond."

Madam Rosetta led you into a level below the brothel. Long sheets hung from the ceiling to form a path through the wide room. You could hear moans and groans come from behind the curtains; people walked around fully nude, making you even hotter under your clothes. Aegon slipped his hands over your hips, giving them a slight squeeze, not stopping to let you have a proper look around. You'd never been in such a place. People moved about without a care of who saw them. Women coupled with women, and men with men. No nosey ladies in their gossip circles. No judgemental, hypocritical lords looking down their noses at you. Only strangers who relished in the pleasures Madam Rosetta’s offered. Aegon’s hands slowly ran around your waist, fingers sliding between the rolls to kiss your neck as he squeezed. You cursed the man for knowing every weakness in your body.

"A private view for you, Your Grace," Rosetta said, leading them to what was a small dark room. I'll have wine brought in," she winked at you, then walked away.

Aegon let you walk into the room first. You only saw an armchair, an end table and wall sconces on the walls. Turning to Aegon in confusion, you watched him light the candles on the wall so faint light filled the small room. He started unclasping his jerkin, his eyes casting over you. Anticipation shivered down your body and warmed between your thighs. You moved to unclasp your bodice but he stopped you.

"No, no, love," he whispered. "Allow me."

He sat down in front of you, and began unbuttoning it from the side. The excitement in you boiled simply watching him carefully undress you. Sliding off the first layer, you stood in your corset, chemise and stockings. Aegon groaned softly, hands running up the sides of your thighs as he kissed from your stomach to your hips. You held onto his shoulder for support, your knees trembling from his featherlight touches. That was when you noticed a hole right beside Aegon casting light into the dark corner of the room. You were about to ask him about it but then he slid the long shift above your thighs. Soft kisses fell on every inch of skin Aegon uncovered, occasionally biting or sucking a certain spot to make you whimper.

"Sweet lady," he breathed, standing to untie your corset from behind, "How I have craved you," He kissed down your neck to your shoulder while loosening the strings, "How I have yearned to feel your luscious body and kiss your sweet lips." He slipped the corset off you, exhaling deeply when he saw you in only your shift. "How I have been thinking about being inside you," he pulled you into his arms, "For days and days and days."

"I'm here right now," you whispered, kissing him lightly. "You may have me however you wish, Your Grace," you let his title linger in the sultry tone. Your sex pulsed as his hands found your shift and lifted it off you. "Wherever you may wish," you emphasized, pushing your hips to his.

"Is that so?"

"You’ve spoiled me today with your surprises and kisses," you reasoned, pouting sweetly. You let your fingertips go down his soft body to his breeches. You enjoyed his body just as much as he enjoyed yours. You lifted his undershirt underneath his jerkin to feel the tender muscles. "It is the least I could do for my generous king."

He gulped when you started untying his breeches below. Aegon palmed both your breasts, cupping them so they spilled over his hands. Gently kissing over each one, Aegon hummed against your nipple when you finally undid his trousers. You could feel his cock throb before you withdrew it, and a distinct wetness pooled between your legs. You briefly remembered this morning by the cliff. Your mouth watered recalling how that cock slid so easily into your mouth, leaving traces of precum on your tongue each stroke. Tugging down his breeches, you stroked the semi-hardness slowly. His cock twitched at your touch, and Aegon growled. Aegon’s tongue began flicking the hardened peaks of your nipples, so your arousal matched his own. He returned to his seat and brought you into his lap, your back against his chest so his hands could still roam your front. The worry you may be hurting him crossed your mind, but Aegon always handled you well. Unlike his brother, Aegon’s body seemed built to carry yours.

He claimed to like the weight on him.

“Look through the hole,” he whispered, grabbing both your breasts again and pinching your nipples.

You did. In the opposite room, you saw Lia with a male customer. She rolled around on her back, spreading her legs so he may see her. The man, rugged and lean, awed at the sight of her slender, soft body under his own. He slid his hands up her thighs, then her stomach and to her breasts. You whimpered seeing him suckle her nipples one at a time; you saw his tongue swipe over each of them so she whined. It felt wrong to be watching a private moment this way, yet you found yourself enjoying it. Aegon’s lips on your neck and hands grabbing your breasts, your center throbbed even more. You rolled your ass into the hard cock poking you, and listened to Aegon withholding a moan.

Lia kept herself open as her customer slipped himself inside her swiftly. You listened to her soft moans through the wall, and you continued rubbing your pussy on Aegon’s length. Aegon used a knee to push your thighs apart. While Lia’s customer pounded hips into her, Aegon started lightly tapping his fingers over your clitoris. The gentle sensations vibrated through your body every time a finger touched the delicate spot between your folds. It nearly drove you mad. You squirmed in Aegon’s lap, his cock pushing between your buttocks and bringing a whole different torture. Looking back through the hole, Lia’s customer still continued rutting into her hips. You saw the way she grabbed her breasts and touched herself while the man focused on his own pleasure. Her moans aroused you more, seeing her in the throws of passion all her own. Aegon’s needy whimpers in one ear, with Lia’s drawn out groans in the other, you desperately needed more. You put your hand over Aegon’s, and guided him around your soaked sex. Your juices spread over each fold between, you could feel your entrance fluttering from all the need inside you. Aegon’s member standing fully erect, you squeaked as the tip touched your sex. Keeping a hand around your throat, Aegon gave a soft squeeze as he rubbed his tip over it over and over. Your desperation made you quake each time your bodies touched.

“Take me,” you muttered in his ear, “Please. Take me how you’d take her.”

He pulled your legs further apart, each ankle struggling to stay in the spots on the edge of the chair, and shoved into you. However, it was not the wet, clenching spot that undid you in minutes. It was the part he’d wanted since you left the carriage. Your eyes widened, and your muscles went rigid at the sudden entry. Aegon knew what he was doing, though he feigned ignorance.

“Do not fret, love,” he said, dotting kisses across your shoulder and sliding his fingers over your core. “I’ll be gentle with you. You know I always am.”

He added extra pleasure by pushing two fingers inside you, going at the same pace as his length. Your walls tensed around the two digits, while a thumb circled your clit relentlessly. You stayed as still as possible, allowing him access to your body. The taboo act elevated your arousal higher; you imagined what people might think hearing you allowed The King to have you in such a way. You bet most of those uptight, dried up crones never heard of such things. Letting Aegon have this forbidden, foreign part of you brought you closer to him. You locked your arms around his, grabbing onto his shirt sleeves as you looked back through the peephole. Lia laid on all four, dark ginger curls swaying with her breasts in each thrust. You thought of her between you and Aegon, trapped in your embrace as you explored her. Mayhaps one day you’ll consider it.

Aegon’s shaky breaths signaled his incoming orgasm; he pushed his fingers as deep as they’d go, curling inside you to that middle spot in your body. You damned him for knowing your body so well. You damned yourself for letting him know them. His hand back on your throat, he started pushing as far as he could into your bottom at the same time. Shuddering in his grasp, your body arched as his fingers started pumping faster, his cock doing the same. You thought you may explode from the bouts of pleasure coursing through you. Aegon’s grip on your throat tightened as he sporadically pumped into you; it blocked your breath slightly, and you actually enjoyed the restraint and denial. You glanced back into the hole to see Lia still on her front, her customer grunting and sweating above her. You sensed a climax, whether real or fake, coming slowly out of her. Your own soon joined hers.

“Yes, yes, just like that,” Aegon grunted, stuffing himself fully into you while fingering you rapidly. “I love hearing you moan like that. Keep doing it. Do it for me. Do it for your fucking King.”

His words sent you over the edge. Not having anything but his fingers, your orgasm came white-hot from within you. Aegon’s hand kept your screams from reaching full volume, restricting your airway more as breath became harder to find. You thought you might pass out in his arms. Aegon soon followed you, his hot semen spilling inside you. The most feral parts of your fantasies wished he’d been in your cunt, his seed swimming further inside to your womb, where it roots itself. Then, you’d have a reason to annul your marriage. You’d have a way to be with Aegon in more ways than physical. But, you’d settle for this for now.

Shakily, you came down from the high and Aegon released your throat. You took lungfuls of air as your muscles turned to jelly in his arms. The pain in your muscles slowly became more apparent, and you didn’t want to stand right away. Though, you worried Aegon might want to.

“Am I-”

“-No,” he exhaled, shaking his head, “I like it. I hope you’re not in too much pain. I know it was…a bit sudden.”

“It was,” you laughed breathily. “I’m sure it will be fine soon. It was the last time.”

You sat up a minute for him to withdraw from you, then you sat back in his lap. Lia’s own climax sounded throughout the room next door, high pitched and far too enthusiastic for the pace her customer took. You recognized the falsehood right away. She must pretend very often. You could never imagine doing such a thing with Aegon, who brought you so much pleasure each and every time.

“I know it is not the grandest of places,” Aegon said, “But it’s one of the few places where I can have you like this.” He hugged you to his chest and kissed you. “With nobody listening but the people who’ve heard it all before. I wanted to bring you here so we have a place to share together.”

“It’s a brothel, Aegon,” you sighed, eyes closing.

“Which can be ours,” he said.

You managed to stand on aching legs, stretching yourself out and yawning. The plunge he’d taken made you wince slightly, and you couldn’t help feeling it when you walked. It reminded you of the first time. Aegon sat in the chair, peeping into the hole for a second. His eyes swept back over your naked form, and you turned away shyly. Even after all the times you laid together, his attention to your body still made you bashful. You never met a man who admired you as Aegon did. You saw him slowly stroking his flaccid cock, staring intently at you in the dim light.

“You cannot want to so soon,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“I do,” he said, rubbing his thumb over his tip. His eyes landed on your thighs, and he squeezed his cock. “Come back over here. Let me worship you properly now.”

“In this little room?” you breathed, coming back over to him. “That chair is far too uncomfortable.”

“My room it is, then.”

“You have a room here? Why did we not go there?” you asked, watching him stand and tuck himself into his pants. You picked up your chemise for coverage.

“I wanted to do something new for your nameday,” he smiled, coming to you and pecking your lips. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I did,” you told him, “But I think next time we will stick to a wider space, no?”

“If you insist, my love.”

You grabbed your clothes before Aegon whisked you from the room and back up into the main brothel floor. On tired legs, you followed him to a room upstairs. Much more spacious, the red walls were decorated with provocative art of naked women in various positions. It had a large, comfortable bed with white sheets, a dining table, and a small seating area. Seeing the pitcher and fruits left on the table, Madam Rosetta anticipated you’d both move upstairs. Flopping down on the soft mattress, letting yourself sink into the softness, you felt it shift as Aegon climbed on top of you. Carefully, you rolled onto your back and let him undress you a second time.

“One rule in my room,” he murmured, kissing you softly, “You must be naked. No exceptions. No arguments. Not a stitch of clothing on you.” He tossed the one layer you wore aside, and gazed over your body once more. Now in the bright sunlight through the windows, he saw you better. “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“I’m not the only one,” you smirked, pulling his shirt out from his pants and slipping it off him. “I’d take yours over Aemond’s hard one any day.” He helped you remove his breeches, so you then fully laid naked together. “So pudgy,” you poked his side, “And soft. It’s like fresh dough.”

“Oi,” he said, faking reproachfulness, “I am not ‘pudgy’. I’m simply a well-fed man.”

You laughed out loud, “Ah, yes. Very well fed.” You pushed him onto his back and straddled him. Your sex grazing him, you couldn’t help winding your hips on his length. Hands on his chest, you felt down to his stomach. While not round, it molded to your fingers. “I quite enjoy it.”

He grasped your sore bottom softly, and smiled, “So do I.”

“This…doesn’t bother you?” you asked suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not hurting you by being on you like this?”

“Far from it, my love,” he grinned, pushing into you so you moaned. “I love having you this way. It gives me a much nicer view of the rest of you.” He reached down between you both and slid himself against your clit. The sensitivity there spiked when the spongy head touched you, rolling around your sex. “Because you being completely lost in complete bliss is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Let me see it again, sweet princess. Let me pleasure you as you deserve to be pleasured.”

“Yes,” you panted, staying stiff as you focused on the little spark of pleasure and pain. “Yes, please, love.”

He slipped back into your wetness this time. He gripped at your thighs, gripping the dimples and curves he came upon while you rocked yourself on him. His entire length fully inside you, you could feel his girth stretch you. The cum he’d left in your backside leaked from you now, you believed, and onto the sack underneath you. You should’ve cleaned up before this, but you could not bring yourself to care. You’d worry over the consequences later. Soon, you began riding Aegon, skin smacking skin each time your body met his. He brought you forward onto your hands, so your breasts hung in his face. Sucking and licking your nipples, Aegon slapped your buttocks and gripped them tightly. The sharp stings added to your desire, making you want more.

The second time took a bit longer than the previous two times. Aegon rolled you onto your sides, lifting a leg over his hip as he thrusted inside you. You both panted words of love and sweet nothings as you pinched and teased each other however you could. When he found your climax, he chased it down until your muffled cries filled his ear. Right as he came, he withdrew from you and stroked himself over your breasts. Hot, sticky, and thick, droplets fell on your chest and leaked down the sides. This time, you laid still as Aegon cleaned you with a cloth and pecked your lips.

“I don’t want to leave yet,” you told him, not releasing him from your embrace.

“I did not plan to leave,” he chuckled softly, flat on his back and taking gulps of air. “I’d choose this room over any place in the Red Keep.” He turned his head, and said, “I’ll call for a bath for us. You can enjoy the wine and food while we wait.”

“Sounds delightful.”

You pulled the sheets around your body as you left the bed. Aegon went to the door, calling for the attendant, while you poured wine and gulped it down. It’d been a lovely end to Aegon’s surprise day trip. You knew you’d have to leave eventually, since you both must attend the feast, but you preferred to stay there for the time being. Coming back to the Red Keep leaking Aegon’s seed, sweaty, and stinking of sex is not how you wish to greet your family. You’d nibbled on a piece of cheese as Aegon returned to you, wearing his own sheet around his waist.

“What do you think your mother is going to say?” you asked him, “After she saw us in the theatre.”

“Probably scold me for being so affectionate in front of people, and how I am bringing you more shame by continuing this relationship with you,” he sighed, pouring himself wine. “She’ll tell me that you’re still Aemond’s wife regardless of what has gone on between you two. She’ll say that I am making the situation worse by adoring you above everything else in the world.” He took a gulp of wine, “I want to tell her that she should be glad.”

“Why?”

“Because the only reason I bother allowing Beesbury to fund her charity work is you,” he winked, stealing a piece of cheese from you with a wicked grin.

“I fear what she will say to me,” you said, leaning into your chair. “It is us women who are glared at situations like this. It is me those at court speak of whenever it’s brought into conversation.” You crossed your arms, “I wish it would end.”

“Perhaps one day it might.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged, “The Gods work in mysterious ways. You never know whose prayers they may listen to.”

You thought back to the play, where King Raelor said he prayed for his brother’s demise. It struck you that life may be imitating art or possibly art imitating life. “True,” you nodded, sipping from your wine, “We never know.”

Two footmen brought in a large tub to place by the fireplace, and two young girls brought in multiple buckets of hot water. You and Aegon ate your fill of food, then you each stepped into the tub. Your back against the cushioned edge of the tub, letting the warm water soothe your aching body, Aegon settled between your legs. The fragrant scent of jasmines lifted through the steaming water, filling your nose and lungs. Aegon gently ran a cloth over your skin, washing himself from every inch he reached whilst peppering you with kisses. Soon, you did the same for him. You ran the scented oils through his hair, and washed him from top to bottom. It’d been difficult maneuvering in the wide tub, but nothing neither of you could not manage. You tried not focusing on his groin too much, but you couldn’t help at least touching him with the cloth. He did the same to you, claiming he needed to make sure he’d washed you thoroughly.

When you’d finally finished, your fingers and toes pruned and the water turned tepid. Aegon and you dried each other by the crackling fireplace, still exploring and kissing one another on the carpet.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, the words slipping from you before you realized you’d said them. Even after saying it the first time, you worried about the reaction. “I love you, Aegon,” you repeated with more certainty.

He rubbed your cheek and asked, “Do you?”

“I do.”

“You’re certain of this?” he asked, anxious you might be saying it to soothe him.

“Very. I have never been more certain of anything in my life,” you said reassuringly. You took his hand to kiss his knuckles, then gave it a soft squeeze. “And you love me, don’t you?”

He hesitated, simply staring over your face before he said, “You’ve bewitched me.” He pecked your lips softly, “You’ve lured me in with your gorgeous eyes, and trapped me with your sweet smile. You are a true enchantress, and I am forever your slave,” he slid on top of you and slipped his arms under yours. “Before this day is done, I will prove my love and loyalty to you, I swear it.”

“What do you mean?” you asked curiously.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he said. He glanced to a corner of the room, then back to you, “How about a game of cards? I keep a deck here for occasions like this.”

“Alright, but one round,” you told him.

Aegon retrieved the cards, then you both sat on the bed where Aegon dealt the cards. You’d intended on two or three rounds, but the longer you went on, the eager you were to beat him. The attendants brought in more food and wine per Aegon’s request, which you picked from while doing your best to beat Aegon at his favorite game. After you’d given up on the eighth round, you tossed the cards aside and demanded a game of chess. You knew with a few cups of wine in him, Aegon’s attention span runs short and strategy games will escape him. But, your lover knew you too well.

“You only suggest chess because you know you’ll win,” he smirked, tipsy and slurring his words as he kissed you.

Seeing the orange and yellow sky outside, you sighed in defeat. The small world you and Aegon created was too sweet to leave, but you must. You knew your family would wish to see you before the celebrations begin at The Keep. Having experienced a world completely opposite from what you knew made you less inclined to leave. In this world, in this room in a brothel, it is only you and Aegon. A special, intimate comfort can be found under the sheets, beside the cozy fires and on the loveseats and chairs. On the streets of Hill Square and down Mummer’s Alley, you found a place that only you and Aegon ever traveled. Aemond never shared such private, closely guarded things with you. You’d seen Aegon’s world, and quickly became a part of it.

“We must go, love,” you told him, running a hand through his messy curls, “Night will soon be upon us and our families must be wondering where we’ve run off to.”

“Maybe yours is,” he said. “I suspect mine will expect me to not return at all.”

“Prove them wrong then,” you told him. “Come back with me, and show them all that you are capable of performing your kingly duties.”

“I’ve drunk far too much to present myself to anyone right now.”

“Sleep it off at home,” you said. You slid away from him regretfully, and picked up your scattered clothes. “I’d like you to be at my feast.”

“I would not miss it for anything,” he replied, leaving the bed and gathering his own clothes. “Considering all the other things I have in store for you, I need to be there.”

“How many surprises do you have left?” you asked, a bit taken aback by the statement. Slipping into your shift, you left your corset behind and pulled on your gown without it. “Is a dragon ride, a picnic, a play, a city tour, and a brothel stay not enough?”

“No,” he stated proudly. “I have not given you your gifts.”

“Gifts? As in more than one?”

“Precisely.” He pulled on his shirt, and stumbled trying to put on his breeches. “Is it wrong for a man to shower his beloved with presents?” He quickly kissed you.

“You’ve done enough for me already.”

“Eh, I believe differently.” He helped you with your bodice buttons, and bent to help you into your shoes. “I love you and I want to show everyone that.”

You smiled at him, your heart thumping in your chest as you kissed him. You finished dressing, and you bid farewell to Madam Rosetta. Leaving the flowery scented air for King’s Landings muck-ridden streets hit your senses like bricks. You and Aegon walked through the street, arm-in-arm as always, and took in the sights of Hill Square once more. The night time crowd appeared to be invading the popular area, going between vendors and coming and going from the taverns and shops. Aegon took two small mince pies from an elderly woman outside a bakery window, and you ate them as you reached the theater again. Even though you’d already seen it, the idea of seeing Raelor and Maelis once more tempted you. Then you quickly remembered your family and the feast. You’d at least be hearing Flynn Lightfingers sing again, which cheered you up considerably.

Aegon held you during the carriage ride home. The wine made you both at ease, snuggled close together as the carriage gently rocked and rolled down the street. The day’s events wore you out entirely. You wished for nothing but a short sleep before the feast began. But, as a princess, expectations far outweigh any desires you may have.

As is the way of things in a court of snakes.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x yn #tom glynn carney #house of the dragon #hotd drabbles #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines

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waddlehekk · 8 months

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Can you talk a little more about how Goemon is intended to be mixed race? I read the manga but never picked up on this; was it lost to translation, or is it extremely subtle (or just a headcanon)? Also, do you have any idea why his race was changed in the Pilot film (if it was at all)?

Though it is never outright stated, there are clear details in Goemon's design that I believe are included to suggest he is mixed race, being part Asian since he is still the descendant of the original, Japanese, Ishikawa Goemon, and part something else, which I'm thinking is part White. The themes presented in the Lupin manga and in MP's other manga of racial freedom coincide with this too.

It's important to also understand the context of the themes that surround Goemon's character, being raised under strict Eastern culture, but despite being naïve towards Western culture, he does not reject it in the way his masters do and is even curious about it.

Before I begin, I'd like to make it clear that MP is not the most consistent when it comes to his designs, especially in the earlier manga where he is still working out what he wants of the characters. It doesn't help either that he had to rush to meet deadlines for the manga. With that being said though, I will be focusing on Goemon's consistent character traits that become more concrete in Shin Lupin.

An obvious detail to Manga Goemon's design is his cleft chin. This is usually drawn in more western-like characters (for instance, he draws Yankee from Bakumatsu Yankee with a cleft chin but not Okita), so it's really interesting how MP chooses to show it in Goemon. MP drew it more obvious as time went on, but it did exist since his first appearance.

Also, notice how Goemon's hair is not fully inked black as MP does with other characters. Generally, aside from artwork for promotion of the anime, anime ost album covers, and artwork made after the manga's completion, MP would color Goemon's hair as blonde-ish brown. I've seen people refer to it as possibly being ash blonde, or dirty blonde, but I'm not sure.

I'll post examples below. If you've seen them before, please read the rest of the post! I have a lot more to show.

It's a shame though that in some instances, publishers tried to hide this by recoloring MP's artwork, even if it wasn't meant tor the anime at all. Likely this was done to appeal to the larger amount of fans for the anime, and much of MP's later artwork after the manga's completion would alter other parts of Goemon's design to resemble it too, such as by changing his facial features and removing the pattern on his kimono. If you look closely below, you can see how the publishers weren't perfect at covering it up.

You may have seen how in my other post, with the artwork of the English Conversation book, or in a small amount of MP's other drawings, that Goemon's hair is instead colored as grey, silver, or not colored at all. I think MP tends to do this to save on color, and you can even see this in how his clothing is colored only white and grey.

That's also why though Fujiko appears blonde in the covers of that same book, she is also colored with grey hair in its pages inside of the book. Notice how the color of her dress changed too to save on color.

There's a similar case of Fujiko's hair originally being portrayed as blonde in the manga, but MP coloring it as brown or red in some artwork to match the anime. It didn't seem to be as much of an issue though considering how inconsistent Fujiko's design already was in the anime and early manga, and with how the changing hair color does not suggest as much about Fujiko as it does for Goemon and his race.

Goemon's manga design already does not resemble his anime design, so to make it even more different by having a different hair color would certainly bring more confusion from the anime audience. Goemon in the anime is strongly associated with being Japanese in comparison to the others, so it makes sense why his hair color is not a blonde-brown when MP draws for the anime.

Unlike fully blonde characters like Fujiko though, MP tends to draw Goemon's hair with many lines. I notice that when MP isn't rushing to draw Goemon, he draws certain areas of his hair having more lines condensed together and other areas having empty space.

(This is kind of hard to explain so I hope the drawing below makes it clear)

My own interpretation for why he draws his hair this way is to show areas with more denser lines being a darker brown, while the less dense areas show the lighter blonde parts of his hair.

It's worth noting Jigen's hair gets drawn with lines too, but there are more lines to show how much darker it is, and it also lacks any lighter areas. Perhaps Jigen's hair is still meant to be black, with the lines added to show detail in the strands of his straight hair, but what if it was meant to show color in his hair too?

Part 3, the Lupin anime with character designs that resemble Shin Lupin's the most, makes the decision to color Jigen's hair dark brown to show this, despite it always having been depicted as black in the anime.

But back to Goemon, I've seen a few people believe that maybe his hair is dyed/bleached. I can understand this notion, given that when he is first introduced he is dating Fujiko who seems more knowledgeable in this, and we do know that Goemon is an open-minded person when it comes to new things despite his old-fashioned upbringing. I disagree though, in part because some of the more detailed color drawings of him give me the impression it is natural. His sideburns also appear to have color in some close-ups of them.

There is something that he cannot change, however, and that is his eye color. It also happens to share the same color as his hair, more proof that his hair color is natural.

If you look at this magazine cover, you can see everyone's eyes colored in as black, but MP specifically did not do that for Goemon. Perhaps he wanted this detail about Goemon to stand out to readers.

There are many smaller details too, like his fluffy hair that curls at the ends, and his body hair.

And I can't forget the sideburns either. Though having sideburns obviously isn't a genetic trait, it's more western-like design that MP uses. The point of Goemon having sideburns may be to help you picture a more western person from him.

Compare all this to Anime Goemon, who has straight black hair and smaller eyes with black pupils, no sideburns, no body hair, and a regular chin. There is a very different intention between what the 2 characters are attempting to portray, and it's obvious when you look at them side to side. These different intentions are the reason why the anime is so stubborn when it comes to incorporating parts of Manga Goemon's design.

You may be wondering, is it unusual that Monkey Punch would make a character like this?

Not at all!

We know for sure Lupin is mixed too.

"I don't need a passport because the whole Earth is my country!!"

"Everywhere on this Earth is my home, even the middle of the ocean."

The character Inspector John Starmow, who admits to Fujiko that his childhood memories are filled with him being bullied by both other children and adults because he has Indian blood in him.

MP's other work, "Western Samurai"

And of course, MP's "Bakumatsu Yankee"

Looking at the designs of the two friends, it almost seems like Goemon is a hybrid of the two that each represent the East and the West. Okita's fully inked in hair and Yankee's hair with hardly any lines, while Goemon has hair drawn with many lines. Also, Goemon's face resembles Okita's, but he has a chin like Yankee. A little off-topic but I've always thought that Goemon's personality was a mesh between the two: Okita's cheerful attitude and Yankee's calm demeanor.

Now onto the rest of your question, why was this not carried into the Pilot?

If you haven't read my old post, please do read it as it explains my theory on why Manga Goemon was not adapted to the anime, and how Anime Goemon was created: https://www.tumblr.com/waddlehekk/711176903837483008/a-theory-on-the-creation-of-anime-goemon-and-why?source=share

Essentially though, the Pilot and Part 1 very clearly wanted a fully Japanese character out of Goemon to clash with the rest of the cast who are very American.

In the Pilot, Goemon is portrayed with a much darker skin tone rather than being very pale like he is in the Part 1 and nearly every portrayal onwards. Additionally, Mystery of Mamo pushes against Part 1's famously established design, bringing back Goemon's original skin tone and also changing the color of his hair to a dark brown.

At first I thought this dark color was chosen so that the artists could show lighting in Goemon's hair and give it detail, and that therefore it was still meant to be black, but even looking closer his eyebrows were colored too. Fujiko, the only other member of the gang that doesn't have black hair in this movie, is also the only other one to have colored eyebrows.

I read a post recently saying that he's mixed because of this, but to be honest, I disagree. There are many people in Japan with the standards that being very fair-skinned and having black hair is what makes you beautiful, but that doesn't mean all Japanese people are just born like this, and some even try to hide it. If anything, I think the reason why Goemon is depicted like this to go against these beauty standards and show that Goemon is still just as much a good representation of a Japanese samurai. The teams still wanted to depict a message about racial freedom in Goemon, and I think this is in part why the Pilot and Mamo understand the tone of the manga much better than other adaptations.

On a final note, I'd like to add that if Manga Goemon is supposedly mixed, and these themes do exist throughout MP's manga, why not then see characters like Jigen, Fujiko, and Zenigata as being just as racially ambiguous? For all we know, Lupin and Goemon could be a combination of more than what I've said here. I'd love to hear any headcanons.

#lupin iii #goemon ishikawa xiii #monkey punch #manga #lupin the third #原ゴエ #shin lupin #lupin iii manga #sorry for the long wait #life is getting kinda busy for me rn #you can tell i was really fighting with the image limit lol #manga goe is so cool i love him

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promptthebear · 10 months

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🐰 Billy Russo #51 please

Jigsaw (Billy Russo) x Reader

Prompt: Did you eavesdrop?

Summary: You're Billy's defence lawyer. Set at the start of Punisher Season 2. Not canon compliant, but adjacent I guess?

CW: Some swearing, f!reader, body shape, hair colour, eye colour etc are all left ambiguous. 2nd person, reader is referred to as "you"

Billy Russo had known you for all of five minutes, which was more than enough time for him to decide that you were a stuck up bitch.

At first, he’d been thrilled when he’d heard the click of your high heels coming down the hospital hallway. Even if you proved to be as useless as the last lawyer his bosses had sent, he’d still have something pretty to look at. Then, you’d walked through the door.

You were pretty alright, in a corporate, tight laced kind of way. Your hair was pulled back into a delicate, but slick, French twist and you were wearing a dark grey blouse and black pencil skirt. Billy thought you’d look even better if you let your hair down and undid a couple buttons, but it became pretty evident you weren’t going to humour him the second you sat down.

“Tell me about the mask, Mr. Russo.”

You’d gone and dragged out the elephant in the room without so much as a blink, and yet you hadn’t bothered to even look Billy in the eye. He watched as you pulled file after file out from that briefcase of yours and placed them on the table beside his bed. Those thick, manila folders looked so out of place against your French manicure and slender hands.

“Are all of those mine?”

“The mask, Mr. Russo. You won’t do well on the stand if you can’t stay on topic”

Billy let out a barking laugh, the sound echoing against the concrete walls. Of course they’d sent him a ball buster. As if he hadn’t been through the wringer enough times already.

“Don’t you have my medical files somewhere in that pile of crap? You won’t do well questioning witnesses if you don’t have all the information”

If you were bothered by Billy throwing your words back in your face, you didn’t show it. Instead, you pulled out a legal pad and a ballpoint pen, crossed your pretty little ankles and looked at him as though this whole conversation bored you.

“I do have other clients to see today, Mr. Russo. If you’re going to waste my time, then I suggest you plead out and save the both of us a lot of trouble”

Billy sighed, then rolled his neck and squared his shoulders before speaking.

“The mask is…well, it’s something the docs came up with, to give me a sense of identity or some bullshit. They told me to draw what I wanted the world to see”

You studied him for a moment, your eyes tracing over the jagged black lines, skeletal nose and mismatched teeth Billy had painted. He tried not to shift in his seat, feeling oddly self conscious under your gaze.

“And this-“ you said finally, your tone confused instead of disgusted like Billy had anticipated “is what you want to show the world?”

“It’s better than horrific facial mutilation”

Your mouth quirked slightly up at the corners. It was a ghost of a smile at best, look away for even second and you’d miss it. Luckily for Billy, he’d been watching your lips for most of this conversation. The shade of red you’d chosen for your lipstick fascinated him. It was strangely out of place against the severity of your outfit, and much like your smile, hinted at a human being somewhere beneath your persona

“Well, it’s not going to go over well with the jury” you replied, your smile disappearing as you scribbled something down on your legal pad “On the slim chance this does go to trial, we should be focusing on your image. Unfortunately, at this time the public’s attitude towards you isn’t what we would call…favourable.”

“I believe your exact words were “PR clusterfuck”

Your pen froze in your grasp and you lifted your head to look at Billy. One of your neatly pencilled brows arched as you looked him in the eye.

“I may have said something akin to that when I spoke with your previous employers this morning, but that wasn’t my professional opinion nor was it something you were meant to hear. Did you eavesdrop?”

Even though he knew you wouldn’t see it, Billy couldn’t help but smile. He’d caught you holding your metaphorical dick, and you still had to be a lawyer about it.

“Is it really eavesdropping when you’re taking calls right outside my bedroom door?” he shot back, unable to keep some amusement from his voice. In truth, Billy wouldn’t know the first thing about criminal law if it walked up and punched him in the nose, but he knew more or less how to play the game and even better, how to be a pain in your ass.

You opened your mouth, to argue, to cuss him out, to ask him to screw you up against the wall maybe. He wasn’t ever going to find out, because at that exact moment your phone went off. You fished it out of your briefcase, glancing briefly at the screen before sliding it back into the front pocket and beginning to gather up your files.

“Where the hell are you going?”

Billy hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory, but it was hard not to. Everyone who came to see him was following the same pattern lately. Doctors, shrinks, and now you. They’d show up, poke and prod him a little, maybe shove something up his ass if he was particulary unlucky and then leave without so much as a “fuck you” in his general direction.

“I’m sorry Mr. Russo, as I said, I do have other clients. I’ll be in to see you next Thursday. We can start discussing strategies for a media campaign and perhaps go over what your trial testimony will look like should we need it.”

“Billy.”

You stopped, briefcase in hand and already heading towards the door, to glance at Billy over your shoulder. Your expression was as calm and neutral as it had been before, but when your eyes met his, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Excuse me?”

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Could you call me Billy? Everyone calls me Mr. Russo, even the shrinks and I- that’s not- I’m just Billy, you know?”

That strange little half smile was playing about your lips again.

“Alright. I’ll see you next week then, Billy. Rest up, we have a lot of work to do.”

#easter askbox event #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo fic #billy russo imagines #billy russo #punisher season 2

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lacaptaine · 2 months

Text

Summer Scribblin'

DISCLAIMER: I MAY HAVE TAGGED IT AS ARTHUR WITH READER BUT IT ISN'T ROMANCE, JUST FLUFF, AND CUTE FAMILY LIKE DYNAMIC. THANKS.

Hello, this is my first contribution to fandom ever and like; I barely write. Just so you know, I am no writer, unless I feel like it. I needed to however get this idea out of my system, because I believe Arthur deserves to feel a little happy for a moment. I'm leaving a link to ao3, but there's also a tumblr text version below. : )

Arthur Morgan has a soft spot for children, change my mind.

WORD COUNT: 2,391

____________________________________________________

SUMMARY: He may be a terrible man; until a child comes along. That's where his heart melts, paternal instincts kicking in rather immediately. With that, we see the Outlaw finding himself enjoying the presence of a peculiar youngling, who doesn't seem to speak much.

Humid was the air on this land, almost like one would jump into a pot of boilin' stew. It almost felt impossible to breathe at times, many of 'em outlaws seekin' shelter under the confines of tree leaves, some optin' for minimum amount of layers to cover their bodies. Terrible damn weather.

One of 'em outlaws, 'spite the rather unpleasant conditions, still decided to sit in here and scrawled like an angry, bad man that he can be, his large hand holdin' his pen in a tight grip, its tip runnin' in quick strokes. His brows were pulled down, creating a fresh pairs of wrinkles on his sweaty forehead. One of the fellow members of his gang, whose mouth ain't ever stopped runnin', had a lot of things to say 'bout today's action in the town, criticising his alleged lack of backbone. Fuckin' moron; one who'd rather come in 'n watch everyone's brains splatter all over the walls, at times leaving one wondering whether the numbers matter to him only in terms of money, or with the numbers in question being 'bout casualities. The higher the amount for both, the better he felt, one would assume. The cowboy's fingers stroked over slicked strands of blonde hair as he sighed deeply. He ain't got the patience for the bastard, and he's come to realise that it is indeed better for the sake of keepin' it together if he'd ignore him. After all, at the end of the day, the moron's gettin' real kick out of it. He's just a waste of breath, waste of space, waste of mind, waste of food, waste of...

Alright, maybe he will focus on appreciating the wildlife, instead.

After he was done with givin' his frustrations a little outlet, rather than a bullet to the previously mentioned fella's head, he turned the page, and opted for drawing, a particular hare catching the man's attention. It didn't move, so it proved to be a perfect opportunity for him to drown in the world of, uh... bunnies. It's better than causin' more fuss.

Not so long later, a gentle padding of boots against the ground reached the man's trained ears; however, suspecting that it's just one of the gang members passin' by, he didn't bother lookin' up, having found nothing close to eagerness for conversation. At some moment, soft footfall stilled on the grass, right next to him, what he assumed could be someone waitin' for him to speak.

'What is it?' he inquires, rugged voice rasping out, in a manner which one might find threatening, blue eyes remaining set straight on the paper in front of him. The answer, however, has never been granted to him, deepening the scowl on his face. Leaving the questions hangin' in the air was always a lil' bit of a burden. 'Whaddya-'

With a turn of his head, his sight is welcomed by a particular person, a new... rather small member of their gang, leaving cowboy's face scribbled with bewilderment. She stood there, her height barely reaching past his reclined form, her facial structure being an epitome of innocence. Tiny hands clasped right in front of herself, her head bowed like one of a fawn's.

'If that ain't... hey,' he greeted, having cleared his throat. 'I, uh... You want somethin'?' The outlaw fixed his expression almost immediately, opting to give a child a smile which oozed warmth and safety, almost forgetting 'bout whatever the hell's been on his mind just a second ago. He wouldn't want to scare the youngling with a a mean look; 'specially since he was able to see her own cheeks roundin' up into a bashful smile itself. She couldn't have been livin' here on this earth for longer than five years, though he cannot tell with them kids. What he knows is that the man has a special set of behaviours reserved for small folks like her, and that the poor thing needs friendly faces to get accustomed to. He is a terrible man, one that kills, one that beats people up and robs the hell outta 'em, but he didn't have the heart to just be another mean bastard when it came to children.

There's a case of her peculiarity that everyone's been rackin' their brains about. First, the kid didn't speak. No one was able to come up with the reason; she seemed to hear just fine, although she merely responded with a glance; if she bothered sparing one, which brings another aspect. It could always been 'bout the fact that she were a little one, nevertheless, eye contact proved to be challenging for her; her gaze always averting as soon as someone returned her own. It left several members wondering about the history behind this quiet girl, other than the tragic circumstances surrounding her discovery. For now, they opted to making the child feel like at home. She hadn't got anyone else to turn towards, with the The Outlaw finding the lost youngling alongside the Leader of the gang a few months back. Her wailing, and a couple of lifeless bodies were enough backstory for them to come to a conclusion that the poor child was utterly alone in this harsh world.

With that, the man suddenly realised that it is the first time he's able to see the colour of her eyes, the curious lookers taking in the sight of a journal in his hands; more specifically, scribbles he had done a few days back when he was on his journey through the forests of West Elizabeth; as the pages turned when he wasn't holding them in place. He always had it with him, this journal; something about the world around him capturing his interest everytime, with paper providing space for his thoughts, or even doin' as much as letting him capture quickly what he had seen. Interestingly shaped trees, wonderfully coloured flowers, animals; funny lookin' or not, always ended up finding their own place in his journal. It ain't like he shared it with anyone, it was after all so personal to the man. A child, however, was enamoured by little drawings he did, fascinated by the details of a wild hare on a page, her tiny mouth slightly open. With one last glance at the man, she hesitatantly took a step towards him, with an expectant gaze, her finger pointed towards the small patch of grass next to him.

'You, uh...' The Cowboy repeats her gesture awkwardly. '... Wanna sit with me?' No response aside from an endearing tilt of her head, as if he were lookin' at a pup. He found himself unable to resist a gentle laugh, even if he were quite unsure of how to go on about with this one. Something 'bout this youngling just had him in her tiny grasp; that much was clear. She needed someone to make her feel safe, having her childhood ruined in such a cruel manner. Warmth washed over him; because it truly is the first since she were able to hold the eye contact with him, as if she were finally opening herself up. 'Alright, come here, Lil' one.'

Perhaps, it will be best if he were to repeat himself, that's for sure. In an inviting manner his large hand moved, tapping it against the green ground next to him, the seat she eagerly took.

'Ah... Look at you, comin' outta your shell, yeah?' He encouraged further, with the toddler glancing up at the man's face once more, with a small giggle. Then what follows... Silence. As usual. A nod of his head, and he thinks for a moment, feeling her stare on him. "What should he do?", he wonders, scratching his rough chin as he tries to think of ways he could entertain the child... While she ran tiny fingers over the clean sheet of paper, as if she found the texture rather fascinating. Ah, well, it... it's his... Well, private belonging or whatever, but it ain't like the kid will steal his journal and run away with it, no. She is very polite when she makes a bashful gesture of her hand, as if to ask him if she may hold it, if she can use the sheets of paper, and something about it just melts his cold heart, devoid of any kindness, or so, as he likes to believe...

'Here you go,' he said simply, the journal traversing through his hands to her own, because for how long can he resist his paternal instinct, the one he thought had died a long time ago? He's a bad man, he thinks. The youngling skips over the pages with words, a natural instinct to be more drawn towards the pictures of flowers he'd made.

'My, a real connoisseur of art,' the man laughed, but the girl haven't looked up at him, her eyes observing the sketch of a deer with intrigue. 'Not like I'm, uh... any artist or somethin'...' He was a tad awkward, that's for damn sure. He was a rugged outlaw after all, a terrible man, robber and a killer of the worst sort. Seein' small folk like her just makes him... Wonder what makes a little pup like her want to hang around with him.

After a moment, the child looks up at him with a bashful look on her face, almost apologetic in a way. Her hand slightly raised to her face, tapping her finger against it. Oh.

Suddenly, it all makes sense now.

The outlaw cleared his throat; right.

She ran into an empty page, rubbing her round nose with fingers deep in thought, before her eyes peeked into the pen in his hand, gaze that the Outlaw followed with utmost attention. He didn't know what to think, it ain't like... Ah, those damn children.

'Wanna, uh... draw? Scribble a little?' His speech was slow, giving her the time to observe the movements of his lips. The pen was raised, its tip drawing circles in the air, while he pointed at the journal in the child's hand. Trying his best to make an attempt at finding a different way to speak and help her understand his intentions, past the verbal communication, he saw the child next to him lighting up all of sudden, a reaction that got him smilin'. Smilin' to a point where his cheeks hurt. She perked up, like little, baby deer, and it took all his strength to not melt as her tiny fingers took the extended pen out of his large hand.

This precious thing was overjoyed, that much he could see. It's like the pen transferred an energy that's been waitin' for its release since the day she was born. The child doodled, using the simplest shapes to portray different creations of nature. A big tree on the left, with a sizeable flower that reached half of its height; a smiling cat with three whiskers on each side of its muzzle, probably havin' in mind a feline that she may have seen at some point in her life; equally just as big, and a little house. The Outlaw, normally, wouldn't have it within him to just let someone scribble all over his belonging, but god damn it. It's a child. Ain't like they got much paper lyin' around for free use. If that means seein' a the little duckling happy, so be it...

The man saw a red squirrel running right in front of them, stoppin' every once in a while to check the surroundings. And of course, he didn't have the heart to stop the little artist in the heat of her passion, but he couldn't let the opportunity for her to see the curious animal just pass! He nudged the girl gently, just on her arm, and pointed at the rodent that tried to jump over the tree. It took her a moment, her eyes being squinted in focus, before relaxing when she saw it.

'Look'at it go, almost as tiny as you!' The man laughed gently, lookin' down at her once more, seein' that she's already traced the lines which resemble the squirrel; the girl havin' made sure to emphasize long ears and fluffy tail. The animal on the paper was almost as huge as the cat next to it. He's a bad man, and yet, he couldn't resist the smile that's been plastered on his face for a good few minutes now. She may not have been as expressive as other children he'd see, but when the baby giggled, when her lips curled up, or even when she did as much as she scrunched her nose in focus; warmth washed over his cold, cold and, once again, cold heart. It's like the girl melted it, and stole it, the precious little thing she was, paternal instincts resurfacing within him once more.

And then; just like that, he saw a sketch, and his eyes widened slightly. On a page he sees a drawing of a person... A man with a beard, a hat on his head, with a scarf wrapped aroung his neck, and the widest damn smile on his face, like the one of a fool's. The Outlaw wiped his mustache, taking into his hands the journal she had extended to him, with that expectant look on her face. She waited for that nod of approval, needing it more than anything at this moment; an approval that he, this rugged man, granted. Of course, he knew who that fella on the page was; it were him, or, how the toddler saw him as. A big fella with a hat, who smiles at her widely. He wasn't an outlaw to her, or a goddamn cowboy. To the girl, he was just a nice man who let her draw in his journal, who kept her safe from dangers of cruel world, which took her childhood. Possibly the first person she had approached on her own ever since she found herself in the gang.

And that is something he couldn't wrap his head around. How is it possible, that he; a person so terrible as he is, was the one that this kid somehow wasn't threatened by?

And god, why was he smiling so much? He cannot tell.

What he can tell, however, he hasn't done that for so long.

And that her own smile, he wants to protect.

#arthur morgan and reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #fluff #read dead redemption fluff #red dead redemption fanfic #arthur morgan & original character #arthur morgan x reader

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yes-divine-ruler · 1 year

Text

Warren Lipka (Evan Peters in AA) x Fem!Reader Smut - “Coffee and Sex” (18+)

Requested! Enjoy <3

Summary: strangers meet in Amsterdam outside Coffeshop Smokey, and are both just as high and horny for eachother.

CW: strangers-with-benefits, weed smoking, unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, cream pie

Words: 2025

I sat outside Coffeeshop Smokey, a spliff to my lips. I exhaled, blowing out O's until I couldn't. I was bored, and very high. All I've done tonight is smoke and play pool with a couple of friends, that then decided they were too tired and had to go back to our hotel. Now I sat, waiting for someone to walk passed that might strike my interest.

Almost as soon as that thought crossed my mind, a young guy in a suit and long curly dark hair stood outside the cafe, staring in from across the street. He looked like a first time tourist, bewildered by the fact that it was okay to smoke weed on the streets of Amsterdam, like he hadn't done his reading.

He caught me staring, his dark eyes locking with mine, almost unnoticed if not for the dimly lit street light. He made a beeline for me, as I put out my joint and sat up straight in my cafe chair.

"What is this place? Doesn't smell like coffee to me?" He asked, scratching the top of his head in a joking way and flashing me an adorable smile.

I raised an eyebrow at him, amused by his ignorance. He sat down in the chair in front of me, his eyes set on the ashtray with the burnt out joint.

"Can I go- buy one?" He asked me, putting a cigarette between his lips from his jacket pocket and lighting it with my lighter.

"Go ahead," I said to him, waving a hand towards the entrance of the coffee shop.

"You sound foreign too," he picked out, laughing in relief, like he wasn't the only one outside of his home country.

"Yeah, I'm on vacation," I said, leaning back in my chair, taking in his appearance again. He was hot, I thought, lean and toned, with the perfect facial features and dimples. I would sit on his face.

"I'll be back," he said, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray and disappearing inside.

Moments passed before he was outside again, a pack of 3 rolled joints in a plastic bag. He sat down again, ripping one eagerly from the packaging and placing it to his lips. He reached over and grabbed my lighter again, this time holding it up as if asking if it was okay to use it. I nodded, my bottom lip between my teeth as I watched as he lit it, taking a big draw.

He coughed as he exhaled, slumping down in his chair and hitting his chest with his fist.

"Good- shit," he got out, making me laugh. He was funny, and confident. I liked that.

"So how long are you here?" I asked him, bringing my drink up to my lips and taking a sip from the straw.

"Uh- only a couple days, business trip," he said, referring to his suit. I didn't know if I could believe his business was very official, he seemed unsettled, anxious, and the suit didn't seem expensive.

"Right," I said, as he looked at me as he inhaled again from his joint.

"You're really fucking hot," he blurted, sucking in his cheeks as he bit them from inside, showing his deep dimples. I knew he felt like it was risky complimenting me so forwardly. I laughed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"What's your name?" I asked, tilting my head to the side as I waited for a response.

"Uh Warren, Warren Lipka," he said, taking another hit of his joint. When he exhaled he asked, "what's yours?"

"Y/N," I replied, watching him finally put down the joint.

"Where are you staying?" He asked me, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"Uh with some friends, a few blocks away," I replied, shrugging.

"Right.. do you wanna come back to my room? It's just down the street," he asked, and I looked at him with narrow eyes.

"Why don't we just hang out here?" I asked, a smile on my face.

"Well I can't get to know you better here, can I?" He teased. We were both high, I almost didn't even hear what he said, until I processed it. I felt my cheeks heat up.

"Alright," I said, getting up. Warren looked at me with wide eyes, not believing that what he said actually worked. It didn't, but he was hot and I was bored, I just wouldn't let him know that I was in control of the situation.

He followed me, saying that his room was to the left of the coffee shop.

"So, have you been to Amsterdam before?" He asked, catching up to me with a small jog. I didn't look at him as we continued walking.

"Yeah, every year," I said, finally looking at him.

"Oh, lucky, love it here," he said, looking out onto the busy street, "it's so different to back home,"

"And where's that?" I asked, as his hand landed on the small of my back as we wove through foot traffic.

"Kentucky," Warren replied, as he stopped outside a tall motel, small steps leading up to the entrance.

"What about you?" He seemed interested in getting to know me, or maybe he just needed to seem like he was to get me inside his room.

"(Your Country)," you replied, following him into the small lobby, watching as he nodded as a greeting to the receptionist.

"I can tell from your accent," he said, climbing up the stairs near the entrance.

"What, no elevator?" I teased, as we made it to the first floor.

"Not exactly in the budget," he said, reaching for a key inside his pocket and unlocking the room door.

"I thought you were on business?" I asked him, as I watched him take off his suit jacket and toss it on the couch. He went over to his king size bed, sitting on the edge and kicking off his dress shoes, laying down in just his button up, slacks and socks.

"I am," he said, craning his neck upwards to look at me, "come here," he suggested, patting the spot next to him on the bed.

I obliged, taking off my own boots near the couch, and pulling my thick sweater above my head, leaving me in a thermal tank top and baggy jeans. Warren looked at me as I shimmed off my jeans in front of him, keeping my panties and tank top on. I wasn't wearing a bra.

"Someone's keen," he teased, big smile on his face as I went over and laid down next to him on the bed, laughing as he crawled on-top of me, our faces inches apart.

"I'm so fucking high," Warren mumbled, as my hands ventured to the back of his head, my fingers tangling in his soft curls. He moaned softly, I guess he liked having his hair pulled.

"So am I," I mumble, as we both let out a laugh.

"Kiss me," I whispered, watching Warren close his eyes and come in towards me, finally connecting his soft lips with mine. Oh my god did it feel good.

His hands rested on the bed next to my face as we kissed, his lips soft. He tilted his head to the side getting better access, his tongue darting out and licking mine. I let him in my mouth, our tongues coming together during every kiss.

I moaned into his mouth, my head dazed and my stomach in a knot, full of hunger for this man. He broke the kiss, sitting up on his knees and unbuttoning his shirt before pulling it off. I took the opportunity to lift up my tank top, throwing it to the side and gasping as it landed on the lamp by the bed. Warren stopped, then we both burst out laughing.

"Shh shh," he said, covering my mouth with his hand as we continued laughing. I opened my mouth, taking his middle finger in my mouth and sucking on it. He bit his lip and looked at me, before his eyes averted to my breasts.

"Now when did those come out?" He said, dipping his head down and taking my nipple in his mouth. I gasped, my hands tugging his hair again as he sucked softly.

I reached down and undid his slacks, pulling them down the best I could until he was just in his underwear like I was. He groaned, as I took a hold of his hard and prominent erection in his underwear.

His thumbs dipped into the waistband of my panties, pulling them down off my legs and throwing them onto the floor. His eyes travelled down my body, taking in every inch of my exposed skin. I laid there watching him, before he cupped under my thighs and brought them up over his shoulders.

"You're so.. perfect," he said, letting out a deep breath he'd been holding in. I raised my arms above my head, resting them on the pillow and his hand travelled down between my legs. He flicked his thumb over my clit, provoking a soft moan to leave my lips.

His fingers slid over my folds, collecting the wetness that pooled there, before he inserted a finger. I let out another moan, as his fingers worked inside me at a steady pace, his thumb coming in contact with my clit and rubbing circles on it simultaneously.

Having sex high was my favourite thing in the whole world, my heightened senses made it feel like I was on cloud 9, my pleasure indescribable.

"Baby you're so wet, it's dripping," he said through clenched teeth, pulling down his own underwear and taking his hard cock in his hand. He stroked it, as I watched, totally taken off guard by his length.

"Fuck me Warren," I mumbled, as he lined myself up at my entrance, slowly pushing inside, his eye contact never wavering. His eyes closed as he entered me, pushing himself all the way in. I grabbed onto his biceps, my fingernails digging into his skin.

“Oh baby, you feel so good,” he moaned, slowly thrusting into me, my legs still over his shoulders. It was pure ecstasy, feeling him inside me deeper than I could’ve imagined.

“Warren- oh my god,” I moaned as his thumb started to rub small circles on my clit again.

His thrusts got faster, curse words and sounds of pure pleasure escaping his lips, one hand wrapped around my leg, the other still circling my clit. I was going to cum, and I think he could tell because he thrust into me deep, hitting a spot inside me.

“Warren I-” I could barely get a sentence out, it felt like I was seeing stars from how good it all felt. His forehead collected swear, the tattoos and veins on his arms jumping out to me.

I came, clenching around his cock, my pussy wetter than ever. His thrusts didn’t falter in speed and I rode out my high, grabbing onto both of my breasts with my nipples between my fingers.

“I’m gonna cum, holy shit,” he cursed, cumming inside me, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier.

He pulled out, sitting on his heels, as he watched his own cum trickle out of my pussy, collecting in a pool on the bed sheets. He groaned, letting out a laugh of disbelief.

“Fuck your pussy is amazing,” he beamed, coming down beside me and scooping me into his arms, our naked bodies warm and sticky with sweat.

I moved to look at him, moving his damp hair out of his eyes. He stared at me from hooded eyes, both of us breathing heavy, before planting a soft kiss on my shoulders.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” He asked in a quiet voice, a cheeky smile spreading across his face.

“Another joint then round 2?” I suggested, as he got up and almost ran to his slack pocket, pulling out 2 joints.

“Read my mind, Y/N baby,” he said, as I wrapped his sheet around me and followed him onto the balcony of his motel room.

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