Text
Filthy Clean
cw: You and Levi have a clean rivalry lmaoo. levi x f! reader, smut, 18+, shower sex, fingering, face slapping, slight cum play, mild dubcon, praise kink, cum swallowing, creampie. I HATE posting fics on tumblr with a passionnnn but I thought you guys would enjoy this one. I posted this to ao3 a while ago but I'm still in my levi era lmaoo. wc 6.9k.
Men were disgusting.
The dirt the younger cadets trudged into the barracks and lounging areas did not discriminate, but the filth the male cadets managed to accumulate was truly unmatched. Beds unmade, toilets unflushed, and had none of them heard of a fucking coaster?
Or a napkin?
You leaned farther so your swiping hand might reach the table’s full breadth. You wiped in wide, angry circles. You’d be here for ages trying to get the grime off the table, gathering the courage needed to tackle the bathrooms.
“Ugh.” Your washcloth came across something unidentifiably sticky. “Fucking gross …”
So consumed were you with your task you did not see the hand come to meet yours until it was too late, and your pinkies met.
You blinked.
“Oi.”
You looked up to see a dark-haired man fixing you with a glare, the majority of his face obscured by a handkerchief.
“What are you doing?”
You frowned. “Cleaning this table.”
The man straightened. “Well” — he snatched your washcloth from your grasp — “you’re doing a shitty job.”
“Hey!”
“Just let me do it.”
“It’s my job.”
“Hah?” A brow raised in question your way. “Someone’s paying you to do such a shitty job?”
“I’m not!” You were truly flustered now. “I’m doing as good of a job as I can with how filthy people are here!”
“Tch.” The man’s sharp eyes cast down to the table. “That we can agree on.”
“And” — you grabbed your cloth — “you shouldn’t take what isn’t yours.”
You ignored the heat of the man’s appraisal. He can stare at my ass all he likes. You hummed. “Who are you anyway?” You asked, layering the wooden table with more solution.
His eyes widened. “How do you not …?”
“I don’t keep tabs on everybody in this infernal regiment.” You scrubbed angrily at the sticky table — was it fucking gum or something? “So, I wouldn’t know if you were famous.”
You looked up in time to see the man undo his handkerchief to reveal —
You froze.
Levi. Ackerman.
The Levi Ackerman.
Captain Levi Ackerman.
… Fuck.
“Oh my god …” You straightened, suddenly feeling foolish with the supplies in your hands. “Captain …”
“How the hell do you not know who I am?”
“You —“ You stammered. What should you do? Should you put down the cloth? Should you leave? Fuckfuckfuck. “I — You had that …” You gestured to the handkerchief. “That thing on your face!”
“The handkerchief doesn’t cover up my voice.”
You gobbed like a fish, face flushed from embarrassment. “I —“
“Tch, it’s fine,” he waved you off. “Just let me tackle this room — or stay; you might learn something.”
The humiliation was almost too much. Almost.
“Sir.” You cleared your throat, arm akimbo. “I’m very sure I know what I’m doing.”
Another inquisitive eyebrow. “That so?”
You recognized the challenge in his voice and stretched the cloth — flack — with a tilt of your head. “Yeah,” You said, the edge of your mouth twitching to add, “sir.”
Levi straightened himself again to his full height (which wasn’t much) and took three intimidating steps toward you. You stood your ground as he reared on you, looking you dead in the eye:
“We’ll see about that.”
After that, you were sure you’d be fired.
You’d been fired by (figuratively) smaller men for far less. The others cleaning girls were in a tizzy that, somehow, you had squared off with Humanity’s Strongest and were ravenous for developments as soon as you had something to tell. You weren’t sure you’d last that long. Surely you’d be getting canned any moment now.
But instead something far more bizarre was happening: it seemed you were now in a cleaning war with the squad captain of the Special Operations Squad.
Everywhere you went, the work was already done. Walls scrubbed. Floorboards wiped. Curtains dusted. Limestone’s ass kicked. Even the heinous bathrooms had been tackled by a brave, meticulous set of hands — and you had an inkling those hands were calloused and attached to a pipsqueak.
Your suspicions were only confirmed when a tale of the captain scrubbing one of the barracks had reached you. Apparently, Levi’d done a stunning job — until he noticed a fucking boot print on his flawless floor. All the trembling cadets were rounded up to find a boot match like a scene from some fairy tale, and eventually the print was proven to belong to none other than Eren Jaeger.
Why was it always fucking Eren Jeager.
By the end of the second week of this cleanathon, you were sprinting to the currently unused dining hall, slamming the doors opened:
Tables glistened, floors polished … You turned your head to the windows … windows you could use as fucking mirrors —
“Son of a bitch!” You shot arms to your sides before storming out, two cadets making way for you.
Sunday evening, the horse stables were all you had left; you shuffled hay and tended to the equine beauties as best you could, spurred on now by a newfound enthusiasm for your job. By sundown, the hay was stacked, the floors were wiped, the cedar like brand new.
“Ha! Could be someone’s living quarters.” You turned, satisfied, to the horses with hands at your hips. “Not too shabby, huh?”
One of them huffed at you, blowing hair from your face.
“You must be his,” You scoffed before exiting the stables.
You were proud, but you were tired. The showers were empty by the time you stepped into one to use, pleasantly ignoring the suspicious sheen with which everything glistened as you wheeled the knob to hot. You sighed as water fit to rival hellfire rained down on your aching muscles. You lathered and rinsed, fit to remove the day’s grime.
Another labored sigh. Finally, some time to —
The door burst open. You shrieked, spun, covering yourself.
“Get out —!”
“Relax.” Levi, of all people, stepped into view. “It’s just me.”
“My order still stands! Get outwhatthehellareyoudoing —“
“I give the orders.”
Realizing he wouldn’t leave, you scoffed, spinning back toward the shower head. “Can’t believe this,” you murmured. “I can’t wait to report this and let everyone know the captain is a perv —“
“I said relax,” Levi said, not a step out of place (beyond the obvious). “I won’t do anything.”
“Oh, what a comfort …”
“… You did a good job today.”
You blinked, forearms still crisscrossed over your chest. Was that a compliment? You tilted your head, as disturbed as you were intrigued. “Come again?”
“You do have some skills when it comes to cleaning, I’ll give you that,” Levi droned from behind. “Peroxide with a hint of lemon? Definitely more than a rookie.”
Fuck. Even his compliments were nestled in insults. “And this couldn’t wait until after I took a shower?”
Soft rustling; you could only imagine him crossing his arms, staring at your naked back. “I wanna to see if you keep it up.”
What did that mean? You looked down at the nest of suds cradled in your cleavage. And you understood: he wanted to watch you clean yourself.
“You’re a weirdo.” You shook your head. But, understanding he wouldn’t leave, hardened yourself to this new challenge. You wouldn’t be intimidated. You carried on as though no one were watching, finishing what you had started.
“You’re doing it wrong,” he spoke up as you bent down to lather a leg.
“Shut —“ You froze, sucking your lips into your mouth. “Sir …” You couldn’t abuse him … he was still a captain … Why did that matter he was fucking watching you take a shower —
“Tch.” There was that odd sound from him again, but was it just you or was it now tinged with amusement. “Think we’re beyond formalities now, don’t you think?”
You didn’t answer. Your face grew hot as you rose to full height, allowing the shower water to wash the accumulated suds away. You didn’t know what you thought; you were mildly dizzy, the heat and situation doing something to you. Why were you letting this happen, letting a man watch you shower?
… Why were you liking it?
You were about to turn and face Levi to get out when he clicked his teeth:
“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”
You saw Levi grasp your shoulder. You gasped, nearly slipping as you turned, at last, to face him.
“Wait,” You said as your back hit the wall.
But he was there, fully clothed, the shower water getting his hair and uniform wet.
“You’re …” You watched him get drenched. “You’re all wet now.”
Levi’s eyes flickered to yours. “So are you.”
Your lips parted but no words came. Dark strands clung to his face now, and you refused to admit how good he looked. His hands were on you — hands much softer than they should’ve been. He swiped the washcloth from you, threw it away. Levi took the soap from you and treated your skin to a thorough lathering with his bare hands. Calloused hands that should’ve been rough and harsh caressed your neck.
“People always forget their neck,” Levi murmured.
Lines of foam ran down the valley of your breasts, to your stomach. Suds nestled in your belly button as Levi’s hands came to your sides and tugged, motioning for you to turn over.
You made to protest — didn’t. Wordlessly, you turned around for him. His hands cleansed you of the sweat accumulated in your crevices. He massaged into your back, caressed the tension from your shoulders. Levi’s thumb dipped in the small of your back and you suppressed a sound, whatever it had turned into unknown to you and him both. Your trembling hands pressed to the wall when you sensed him bend forward to knead into the skin of your thigh. You squirmed, biting your lip at the moan his meticulous hands fought to elicit. Levi’s hand reached forward and grazed the pert skin of your nipple. At an honest to god moan you couldn’t repress, Levi paused.
“I …” You kept still under his gaze.
It was a relief when seconds later Levi resumed his ministrations.
“Want you fucking spotless,” he said, and you believed him. His hands worked in tandem with the hot water to cleanse you. Levi worked your breasts, cupping them from behind, offering them to the water to be dowsed of suds. Fingers you knew were purposeful grazed at your excited nubs in the process. A hand, once gripped firm at your waist, breached the gap of your legs, a finger sliding over the slit of your vulva.
You gasped through the moan. “I — I thought you said you wouldn’t do anything.”
“That was before I saw how lackluster your methods were.”
“My meth —“ You bit your lip as Levi’s finger grazed your clit. “I — I hardly see how this is supposed to help me get clean, captain.”
At the title, Levi groaned in your ear, lips brushing against your shoulder.
You ignored the thrum of pleasure in your cunt. “Why would I need to be — ah — clean from the inside?”
“Quiet.” His finger threatened to slip into your moist entrance, your natural slick assisting in this endeavor. “If you knew what you were doing, you wouldn’t be asking that.”
“I don’t think —“
“If you had a problem, you wouldn’t be fucking drenched, either.”
“Ah …” Your forehead thudded against the wall, your skin hot. Everything hot. You couldn’t argue; even the shower water couldn’t wash away evidence of your want.
“And now you’re gonna make an even bigger fucking mess, aren’t you?”
Despite the haranguing, Levi only pressed closer, the fabric of his jacket adding friction to your damp skin. His finger teased the ring of your entrance, teasing, daring.
You moaned when Levi abandoned your hole to concentrate on teasing your clit. He tended to it with the slightest touch, so removed you began to think his touch only imagined.
“I — I’m too achy to —“
“Do you ever shut up?” Levi snapped. “I’ve already told you.” His lips were at your ear now, his chin sitting in the crook of your neck. “Not asking for you to reciprocate. Just let me do it …”
You gripped Levi’s forearms as his finger slipped past the ring of your entrance with shameful ease. You bent forward, squeezing your legs around his hand. Your lips parted with a shuddering moan when his fingertips brushed the roof of your g-spot growing ever jagged.
“Didn’t think it would be this easy,” he spoke into your ear. “Just letting me in, hm? Fucking freak …”
You looked over your shoulder to Levi already staring at you. You did not need this. You did not need Levi, wet and close and hair dangling in his gorgeous face, mocking you.
Another finger slid in to meet the first. You clawed at the shower wall, growing feral.
Levi withdrew them.
“Wait,” You murmured. “What?”
His brows furrowed. “Do you want this?”
You scoffed. “Really?”
He studied your face. “Wanted to be sure,” he murmured, his arms caging you in.
You turned to face him. You pressed into him, your forehead meeting his. After all this, now he asked? But a part of you was endeared by his asking. Despite his foul mouth and gruff disposition, you didn’t fear him.
You found his hand and guided it back to your wanting cunt. “Yes.”
Not needing to be told twice, Levi hand roped to your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. You weren’t caught by surprise; you opened your mouth for him to explore while his two fingers returned to their mission of exploring you. His groan caught in your mouth and went straight to your cunt, inciting a new layer of slick to coat Levi’s fingers.
“Thought so,” he muttered into your mouth. He abandoned your mouth just as he invited a third finger into your weeping hole, his lips traversing the length of your jaw.
You were a moaning, sobbing mess, grinding against his fingers. You couldn’t take all this stroking, probing, stretching. The shower water pebbled your skin, the incessant dribble sensitizing your heated skin. Levi was driving his fingers into you now, assaulting the tender spot within to drive you feral. You entwined a leg around his with a whimper, your head falling against the wall to widen the expanse of skin Levi’s lips could torment. His thumb tweaked randomly at your clit, the uncertainty of when he would reward the nub with attention only driving you further toward the edge of the cliff. He nibbled, bit into your neck and you all but jumped into his arms, all dignity forgotten.
“Go ahead,” he said when you squeezed his digits, your breathing heavy on his shoulder, “bet you look pretty when you come.”
His voice, as though your climax was the most predictable thing in the world, sent you over the edge. With an onset of broken moans you came, nearly ripping the arms from Levi’s jacket as he finger-fucked you through your orgasm. You drenched his fingers, saw through vision bleared by water and steam and drowse, how they had turned pruney playing in your snatch once Levi at last pulled them out of you. He held you up with a hand, your legs turned boneless and useless under your lasting throes.
Levi inspected his fingers as you caught your breath. He bent down to retrieve your abandoned washcloth and wiped his fingers clean.
“Levi …” You murmured as he did it, your senses returning slowly but surely. “What …?”
He turned back to you, fixing your back against the wall again as he captured your mouth in another kiss, not as rough as the first, but affirmative. A statement. He withdrew and you, eyes closed, followed him until you realized he was truly through with the kiss and opened your eyes.
He wiggled his fingers, almost to taunt you. “I was right,” he said, a flicker of a smirk there. “Fucking pretty.”
You’d lost all control over your life.
Afterwards, you often found yourself frequenting the same spaces with Levi, places you were meant to be cleaning but would end up as sanctuaries so Levi might fuck you into oblivion inside them.
More than once you’d cried out as he crashed you into the wall, arms wrapped around each other, passion overcoming dull reason always.
“Levi!”
“Keep it down!” he would hiss in your ear before nibbling the lobe attached. “Want the whole headquarters to hear us fucking?”
And then you would clean. Thoroughly. Meticulously. There were never any traces of your sudden trysts, you both made sure of that.
What was happening? You weren’t sure. It wasn’t as if you were suddenly the captain’s girlfriend or something. Right?
Right?
… Right?
“Are you the captain’s girlfriend?”
You startled away from Potato Girl, who had somehow materialized by your side, nearly falling off the step you sat on in the process.
“Sasha!” Jean Kirstein reprimanded. He graced you with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about her.” To Sasha: “You can’t just sneak up on people you don’t know and ask them —“
“But it’s clear something’s going on, isn’t it?” Sasha said. “I heard Mike say the other day that —!”
“No!” You cried. Do these fuckers do anything but gossip? You were reminded of your grandmother, who had once said the military was nothing but death and gossip. “No, you — you don’t understand. The captain and I — we’re just friends. We like cleaning, that’s all.”
Jean’s blush belied his nod toward you. “You don’t have to explain anything.”
“Aw, c’mon!” Sasha said. “Captain Levi would fall head over heels for a girl who can clean as well as you!”
Jean ran a hand over his face. “Sasha …” Exasperation made his voice heavy.
“It’s okay,” You assured him before turning to Sasha with a smile, your voice fit for addressing a child when you said, “The truth is, I don’t know why Captain Levi’s taken such a liking to me. I’m just happy to make him proud. But I promise: nothing untoward has ever occurred between the captain and myself.”
How well you could lie through your teeth. Should you be proud or ashamed? Untoward … Levi’s fingers sank into your cunt; his cockhead twitching on your cervix; a mouth full of —
Boy, could you lie.
Sasha scrutinized your face. Seemingly satisfied, she said, with a disappointed dip in her voice, “All right. But tell us if that changes! We want the best for the captain and only want him to be happy!”
Strangely heartwarmed by her comment, you nodded to the both of them. “You got it!”
And you’d thought that would be the end of it, but it wasn’t; you were doomed to have a couple more run-ins with members of the Special Operations: a few cadets once eyed you surreptitiously in the hallway. And on the last day of the week while on your way to dust the shelves of the library, a little blonde boy caught sight of you and promptly scurried away, a book tucked in his armpit, leaving the library hilariously bare.
“Oh, come on!” You said, the lack of people affording you moxy. “If I was really fucking a captain, don’t you think I’d have gotten a raise by now? Hello?!”
“You wanted to see me, Commander?”
Levi shut the door. The moment Levi walked into the Commander’s office, he knew what he was in for. Erwin wasn’t alone; Hange was ready to bounce off the walls. Mike looked like he was suppressing some laughs. Levi let himself in; eyes made of ice appraised his every step.
“Have a seat, Levi,” was all Erwin said, and once he did the man knitted his fingers together. “I’ve heard rumors.”
“Tch, didn’t think you were the type to listen to shitty gossip.”
“More than rumors, I would say.”
Levi raised his brows to encourage elaboration.
“There have been complaints.”
“Of?”
“You and some cleaning girl hooking up!” Hange cried out — happily.
Without a beat, Levi tilted his head: “What?”
“There has been a shortage in cleaning supplies,” Erwin said. “Some cadets have complained about headaches. Some have reported breathing issues. Some have fainted.”
Levi glared. “They’re allergic to everything except filth, then?”
“I’m told chemicals from the cleaning solutions are the cause,” Erwin continued, leafing through what could only be reports from this very issue.
“The morons can always open a fucking window.”
“Still, there’s such a thing as too clean, Levi,” Erwin said. “Some have begun to speculate why there’s been such an uptick in cleanliness. It seems … suspicious.”
“Tch.”
Erwin’s eyes flicked upward expectantly. “I’ve not heard you deny anything.”
“There’s nothing to deny.” Levi crossed his legs. “I help her clean when I have the time, that’s it.”
Hange squealed. “Oh, this is fascinating —!”
“ — You’d think so,” Levi shifted his glare toward her.
“A friendship forged from alcohol!” Hange chirped. “I’m such a fool; I should’ve predicted something like this would happen!”
“Nothing’s happened, you fucking weirdo,” Levi said.
Mike had failed to comment thus far, sticking to his corner of the room, but his shoulders rumbled with hushed laughs. Fucking prick.
“Hm?” Hange stood. “Oh really? Tell me, then: If you’re just cleaning, why are there reports of moving furniture?”
“We have to move furniture to get to spots people forget to clean, moron,” Levi said pointedly, crossing arms now. “If these idiots spent as much time training as they did gossiping, fewer of them would be eaten every expedition.”
“Nevertheless, we can’t have you and this girl making hazardous gases in your attempts to clean headquarters,” Erwin said. “Be more discriminate with how you use your supplies. I don’t want to hear any more complaints about this, am I understood?”
A curt nod from Levi.
A snort from Mike. “I bet she’s cute.”
“I bet you’d look better without a nose, Mike,” Levi said, standing. “And, Commander, I think you should address some of the rumors concerning yourself.”
It was Erwin’s turn to raise his fatass eyebrows. “Pardon?”
“I don’t know.” Levi was already striding toward the door. “Something about you and some nurse.” He turned back to Erwin, hand on the knob. “Can’t be true, can it?”
Hange gasped. Mike choked. Erwin himself, surprising no one, moved not an inch, only dug knives into Levi’s disappearing back as he considered himself excused and shut the door behind him.
He wouldn’t give in. He couldn’t lose his cleaning fuck buddy. Not now. Not ever. No one had understood his desire to eradicate filth as well as you.
He would just have to have a little conversation with you.
“You make too much noise.”
Hardly the statement you were looking forward to. Where was you feel so good? Your precious good girl?
You broke the kiss, subtracting your tongue from inside Levi’s mouth, to stare at him crookedly.
“Come again?”
“S’you,” Levi said, the flush coloring his face as conspicuous as day. “People are talking around these shitty barracks. We’ll have to cool it if you can’t keep your fucking mouth shut.”
You snorted while resuming your task: unbuttoning Levi’s shirt. You dipped forward to snatch one button between your teeth where it waited to be chewed off. You broke away to nibble at the skin beyond it once it snapped open. “Shut me up then.”
“Fuck …” Levi said in response to your slutty hips swinging into his, your teeth leaving love bites over his protruding collar. “Do you have to make everything so difficult?”
“This is your fault, you know?” You ground your hips into Levi’s obvious erection and was promptly rewarded with a delicious groan. His hand came around to grip the fat of your ass. You licked a wet strip onto his neck before nibbling the skin there. “If you didn’t” — another swing of your hips, another groan from Levi — “fuck me so good, my volume wouldn’t be such a problem.”
“Not apologizing.”
You leveled your face with his. “Then we’re at an impasse.” And you kissed him, slotting your tongue back into place above his.
Levi stole air from your mouth when your hand slotted between the two of you, found the heavy imprint of his cock and gave it a firm squeeze. Levi pressed you closer to him, a firm grip on your ass. He swiped up at your tongue before nibbling on your lower lip and repeating the action with its twin.
“You really want your slutty mouth exposing us to the world?” Levi grumbled, no doubt begrudgingly aware of how his cock twitched in your hold.
“I really don’t care,” You said. “But I guess I don’t have as much to lose, right, Captain?”
He jerked you away by the back of your head, hand fisted in your hair. “You’re out of line.”
A grumble in his throat at the sight of your tongue running over your lip.
“Says the man who walked in on me showering.”
Levi’s eyes narrowed, as if to say touche.
“Maybe you’re right.” He met your eye, fixing his face neutral. “Maybe I need to shut you up.”
“Oh.” You wiggled your brows. “Levi.”
“On your knees.”
You giggled — stifled it when Levi tapped your cheek with barely any force but enough to threaten a harder hand in the future.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, brat.”
And so you sank, remaining eye contact as you sat on your knees and fiddled with the buckle of Levi’s pants. You freed his cock, was rewarded with a soft grunt from him — and one slightly louder when you fed his cock into your mouth, wiggling your eyebrows at him again.
“Even with your mouth stuffed with my cock, you’re still giving me attitude?” Levi huffed, but there was no bite to it.
The edge of your mouth quirked before focusing on your task. You gave Levi a hard, fruitful suck before releasing him with a loud, wet pop! to run the flat of your tongue down the underside of his cock. From base to tip. Base to tip. You swallowed him again, hollowing your cheeks to work his cock. Excitement flushed your cunt as Levi’s grunts filled the air, and your fingers itched to sneak down and play with your juicing folds.
A groan from Levi. An encouraging hand met the back of your head. “Fuck, good, little brat …” His hanging his head back sent your cunt clenching at nothing.
You released him, curled stroking fingers around his shaft. “Who’s the loud one now?” You teased with a smirk —
You gasped when Levi’s hand swatted your cheek. Harder than before. A tepid warning.
“Finish what you started.”
You opened your mouth to get smart with him, only for the hand straddling the back of your head to pull you forward; Levi’s cock tumbled back into your mouth.
Your eyes fluttered closed. Your hands stroked the end of his shaft, pubic hair tickling your pinkie, as your mouth lay preoccupied with the rest. Levi’s sounds impelled you to move faster. You didn’t care about the aching pain in your jaw or your screaming knees on the wooden floor. You sucked for those sounds, for the power you held over him in that moment.
“This is a better look for you anyway,” Levi said — hissed as one hand came to cling to his naked thighs, the other thumbing at his ball sack. “Fuck, clean my cock, brat.”
You weren’t his brat. Nor were you one of his cadets he ordered around, but your cunt fluttered around the words all the same. The way he was so determined to playfully shame you, when he was the one to jump you and sink his fingers into your cunt?
Levi assisted in your head bobbing, his fingers nestled in your hair. “Give it a spit shine, show me how fucking good you are at your job, cumdump.”
You parted with his cock to obey, to spit on the veiny shaft. You thinned out the spit with your palm before introducing him back into your mouth. You moaned around Levi’s cock, the vibrations around his member causing him to do the same.
Fuck. You couldn’t take it; you led a hand between your thighs, startled at how sensitive you were to your own touch when your fingers circled against the damp clutch of your panties.
“Playing with yourself while you suck me off …” He hissed when you sank forward, his cockhead tickling, threatening the sanctity of your uvula. “Depraved little slut.”
Levi clutched your head firmer to steady you and started thoroughly fucking your mouth. You gasped, choked, the rapid tousling of your head clouding your senses. Your eyes pebbled with tears. You ran a fingertip down your clothed slit, the seam of your panties wet from your want. You moaned as Levi did. Your lips tightened around the span of him. You raised to the challenge, sucking harshly as he bucked into your willing mouth.
“Ah, fuck,” he hissed. You cracked an eye open to see Levi’s hips stutter, his other hand bracing against the table.
“Mmm!” You were so hot. You worked your clit harder before realizing you didn’t have to cheat yourself slid a hand past the elastic of your panties, slipping fingers through your folds.
“Don’t you dare flake on me,” Levi said. “We just cleaned these floors; take every last drop.”
You didn’t need him to tell you what to do; you knew your role now. Levi slowed his pace to allow you to take over. You rose on your knees, gripped one of his ass cheeks to hold him close. A soft gasp from Levi as you ran your tongue over the vein on the underside of his cock, coaxing him to coming. You felt it twitch, excited and abused in your hot, wet mouth.
“Fuck, fuck —“ Levi growled, gripped the side of the table. “Every drop, you little cumcatcher —!”
Levi fisted your hand as he spilled into your mouth. You closed your eyes to it, clinging to his shaft to pull him back and allow your mouth much needed space. Levi fed you his pants, his hurried breaths quickening your heart. His cockhead sat on the flat of your tongue while ropes of cum ran down the length of it. You obeyed his command, swallowing every drop, letting him use you as the little cum dispenser he wanted you to be. You wanted to be for him.
Your jaw screamed with relief when Levi left your mouth. A bridge of saliva connected you to his spent member and you promptly wiped it away before it could threaten the sanctity of Levi’s perfectly polished floors.
He looked down at you, his stoicism softened by fondness. He stroked the cheek he’d previously abused. “Good girl.”
You purred. “Only for you.”
“Hm.”
You stood and pecked him inches above his ever-scowling eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say? After all that huffing and puffing you —?”
Levi’s hand met the back of your neck and pulled you close, glaring right into your eyes. “You’re running your shitty fucking mouth before I can even reward you.”
Your brow raised in interest. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Levi jerked his head toward his bedroom. “Let’s finish this.”
You gaped in surprise. “But we just cleaned the sheets!”
“And you’re not about to get them dirty again. Right?” Levi stared pointedly at you before leaning into your throat, giving it a soft but prompt nibble. He pulled away as you hummed. “Right?”
You ran your tongue over your lip, batting intrigued eyes at him for a second. He really was an eccentric weirdo. You wordlessly complied, strolling into the bedroom to get into place for him. Levi followed, pulling you toward him. One hand yanked you to him by your shirt, dragging you into a kiss. You gasped at the sudden action. His force pressed the bed into the back of your knees and you clumsily sat. Levi worked your shirt away before hooking a hand down the elastic of both your trousers and panties.
He peered down at your lower half, mildly amused. “Bet you’re already dripping after playing with yourself while sucking me off, fucking freak …”
You giggled, your rebuttal your raised, pruney fingers.
Levi gripped your wrist. “Filthy …” He brought your fingers to his mouth — jerked the two articles of clothing fisted in his grip to hook at the back of your knees. The tiniest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips at your widened eyes, your tiny gasp.
Levi tossed away your clothes. He slotted into the new space between your legs. You ran your fingers over his plump lower lip as he fished for his cock, and pride flared in you to feel he was already hard again, your teasing sufficient enough to make him stand at attention.
“We — ahh …” You furrowed your brows at the feel of Levi’s cock sheathing inside you. You sighed. Tried again. “We’re going to make a mess for sure.”
“We’re not going to make a mess,” Levi corrected before inserting himself fully, thrusting to the hilt and, over your moan, “You’re going to take it.”
You didn’t wonder because you didn’t need to; his tacit answer, coming in the form of another pointed look up at you, had been enough for understanding to flourish like moss on stone. He was going to fill you up, leave you so full of his cum he would surely pull out of you squeaky clean, every precaution you might’ve taken against pregnancy be damned. The insinuation sent flutters to your cunt you were sure Levi could feel around his cock, were sure he could feel the effect he had on you. Your final confirmation being that he was still fully clothed, as though confident you would not sully him even as he ruined you.
Levi quickened his pace in such a way you were forced to grab ahold to his shoulders. “Fu — Is that so? Mm!”
“Yeah — fuck,” Levi muttered in your ear. “As you said, we just fucking cleaned these sheets, and there’s no way they’re getting dirty again just because you can’t control your disgusting sobbing snatch.”
You wanted to slap him — wanted to throw his insults and his eager cock in his face — and your hand itched to do so, but as he found his rhythm you couldn’t; he fucked you hard into the mattress, barely breaking a sweat as he barreled into you. A hand flew to constrict your throat, sinking you down further and thus making it easier for him to bully into you. Levi brought his face close to yours as his hips went wild, giving you a taste of that Ackerman strength you had heard so much about.
“Ah — uh —!” You moaned, your eyes falling closed as your mouth slacked wide. “Levi — Levi!”
You cracked eyes open to see Levi’s face strained from his efforts above you. Another flutter down below struck to see how much of an effect you were having on him. You loved him like this; the sarcastic, stoic know-it-all you’d come to know melting away until he was just a man enthralled with your pussy. You looped arms around his, bracing your hands at his back. A hand grazed your mons pubic and three fingers at your clit had you choking a moan.
“Come on,” You urged. “Oh.” You shuddered when Levi flicked at your clit every which way in response. “I’ll be such a good girl for you and take it, mm …”
“Fucking noisy brat, nrgh!” The hand Levi had roped over your throat tightened. “Using my own words against me …”
First your arms then your legs wrapped around him — only to aid in flipping him on his back. The world whirled around you as you came out on top. Levi choked back a sound of surprise as you mounted him. You looked down at him with a smirk.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?” He said, an aimless hand groping at your tit.
“Being a good girl.” You let yourself down on him, basked in the triumph coming in the form of Levi’s relieved groan beneath you. “I wanna show you how good I can take it.”
Levi’s face contorted in an almost-glare he soon realized he had not the energy for when you planted hands on his chest, rebellious fingers discreetly tweaking his nipples through his uniform as you found purchase, and began to bounce on him. His eyes shut, brows furrowed as the round of your ass routinely slapped against his thighs.
“Fuuuck.” Nails left crescent moons of your thighs. “Feels good, ugh …!”
“Anything for you, Captain —“
“Don’t call me that.” Levi grasped harder at the junction between your thigh and ass.
“Why?” You paused, sitting on him, opting to squeeze around him as you did so. Levi grunted, bucked up in response. “It doesn’t have an effect, does it?”
“Fuck, read the room —“ Levi’s eyes trained on where you two met in the middle, your sopping snatch routinely coming to devour him. “Clearly, I’m not your captain, otherwise — urgh!”
You kept fucking against him, surprised by both the agility and stamina you seemed to have in this moment. Levi’s cock split you open so good, so completely. It was growing increasingly hard to tease him as you felt yourself getting close. So close. Levi slapped your ass before taking a handful and tugging you forward. You fell onto him.
“Otherwise — oh — what?” You asked, your faces now so close as to have your noses rubbing. “You won’t let me drain your cock of every last drop?”
Levi’s knuckles had to be white from how tight his hold now was on you. He groaned, biting down on his lip as his forehead met yours.
“I don’t care about the rules,” You said, voice sounding more desperate than was your intent due to your cresting release. “You’re my captain, so I’m gonna — oh! — be a good girl and fuck my captain until he’s fucked dry from my cunt —“
A sound of utter frustration from Levi and his hands were bruising your hips. Hard. He fucked up into you, slamming you down onto him, and every time he met you half way. Now you held onto his shoulders for fear of falling off, too hazed from lust and pleasure to register that as a foolish notion; like Levi would ever let you fall. Like he would ever let you go.
You fisted one hand into the sheets, meeting Levi’s upward thrusts however you could. Teasing words devolved into endless grunts and moans. You exchanged breaths before you remembered you could kiss him and did, kissing him hard as your last threads of sanity snapped and you clenched wildly down onto him.
You moaned into Levi’s mouth as you came. You gripped his cock with your cunt again, again, and felt Levi come undone underneath you only seconds later. Warm, thick ropes of cum spilled into you and you stilled on top of him, sitting flat, then grinding your hips, your clit rocking into his abdomen rug-burned by his pubic hair. The sensation added another shock of pleasure as you came undone.
Levi was determined to fuck you through it. With strength you didn’t think he still had, he flipped you over and proceeded to fuck his come into you, the length of his shaft coated white with your juices and his. Another thrust and he slammed into you without retreating, holding there.
“Levi …” You moaned out. You felt him move and whined; you weren’t ready for him to leave you, to be empty.
But the second Levi pulled out, he replaced what you’d lost with his fingers, ensuring his spent be left inside.
“Oh, fuck, Le …!” You shuddered, too overstimulated to submit to Levi’s fingers rubbing up against your spot.
“Quiet,” he murmured. “You’re a good girl, remember? Don’t wanna hear it …”
You bit your lip, nearly ripped the sheets from their corners as he stimulated you from inside. Finally, he withdrew his fingers, certain his spent had taken with you.
“Phew.” Eyes closed, you fell back into the pillow, too blissed out to articulate much more.
The mattress depressed at your side and you knew Levi was there, trailing kisses up your arm. Once in the crook of your neck, “Good girl.”
You hummed as Levi relaxed beside you. Despite his claims, you knew there was no way the sheets hadn’t been tainted — by sweat, by juice if not by his cum — and Levi would have you rip the sheets from their corners and wash them. He’d watch to see what kind of detergent you would choose, testing to see if your skills were up to par with his. And perhaps he would fuck you in the laundry room while the sheets dried. Maybe he would fuck into you from behind while you made the bed. Whatever it was, you were game. Always. When and if it was with him.
While your mind swam with sordid thoughts, Levi spoke up:
“What do you want?”
You propped up on an elbow, facing him. “Hm?”
“Us.” He turned to you, stoic expression having returned, but his eyes ever watchful. “What do you want out of this?”
You smiled. “I … want a partner. Someone to share things with.” You sought out his hand to entwine your fingers with his and, to your surprise, he reciprocated the gesture after a second or two. “But it doesn’t have to be serious. Or public.”
“Hm.” Levi nodded. You always got the sense he was testing you, somehow, both in and out of bed. The romantic in you wanted to believe it was because he feared hurting you, feared pushing you beyond your limits. “I think that would be best for now.”
Fuck buddies it is.
“We should work on these sheets,” Levi said. “It’s not too late. We could have them dried before midnight.” He eyed you with challenge. “If you’re not too tired?”
You thought of your previous fantasies. Perhaps you would be the one to initiate this time?
You smirked. “You’re on.”
800 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stolen Destiny (II)
Feyd Rautha x fem!reader
summary: the na-baron takes an interest in you
warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, smut in future chapters, misogyny, dark themes, canon typical violence
word count: 1.8k
previous chapter / dividers / masterlist
“...humiliating…disgusting…barbaric…”
You flinch as your father’s anger roars. Nothing you do will ever please him.
“What do you think will be said of me? Of how I raised you?”
“You didn’t,” you want to say. Instead you apologize. Harkonnens are animals you rationalize. They were testing to see if you were prey and you had to show them you aren’t.
“And in doing so you’ve tainted yourself.”
It’s like a slap. The cut on your hand still stings from the solution they’d scrubbed on it. It had only been a handshake. It was a show of strength. He’d understand that sentiment if there was a cock swinging between your legs. He doesn’t stay to say more, leaving you to nurse the wounds alone.
A feast is held that night. A welcome to your guests. You're squeezed into a new outfit, one you've been told your father deems more appropriate than the one you’d had chosen. It’s the first time he’s ever taken the initiative to dress you. It gives you no pleasure to recognize the dress as one of his courtesan’s.
“Your dress is lovely,” says the Princess Irulan when she sees you again after the food had been taken away and the party mills about in the Hall. She takes your arm and strolls with you between the bodies. The familiarity between you is striking. She speaks of her sisters, the planet she calls home. You tell her of your studies. It seems you share a fondness for the same authors.
It’s odd to feel her warm smile. There were few women in your life. Maids mostly, though they rotated frequently. A few of the castle’s regular entertainers when allowed. You don’t count the courtesans who keep your father company.
“Princess,” Paul greets her with a bow, intruding on your talks of taking an excursion around the palace grounds. Those green eyes turn on you and sweep across your form. “My lady, you look stunning.” He takes your hand again and bends to kiss it while you try not to flinch. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all,” Irulan says with more kindness than deserved. “We were just making plans to visit the lake the day after tomorrow.”
The way his face lights up has your excitement plummeting. He’s eager to join. You stay as long as you can stand his conversation. It’s not long. You excuse yourself, claiming the need to check on the rest of your guests, and extract your arm from the princess’. You accept a kiss on your cheek from her before disappearing into the crowd.
You have no desire to mingle more. Whatever consequences you’ll face when your father finds out about you slipping out don’t worry you. His anger would have found something to punish you for anyways. Cool air greets you as you step into the gardens. It’s not your favorite place, but the training yard is too far in this getup.
“It’s rude to leave your own party.”
Hair raises on your arms, but you don’t turn to the voice. “You have my apologies for my rudeness then.”
“And it is unwise to keep your back to an armed man.”
“What fun is life without a little risk, na-Baron?”
He chuckles at that. There’s quiet footsteps as he paces behind you like a panther appraising a potential meal. You keep your eyes forward. “You and the princess seem to have bonded quite quickly.” He’s been watching you.
“She is easy to be fond of.”
Shadow swallows you as he steps behind you. Breath ruffling your hair he asks, “But Paul Atriedes is not?” He’s been watching you closely. A fingernail scraps down your bare arm. “Do you resent him for what he’s stolen from you?”
You spin.
The black void that is his smile is wide on his face. Humiliation sears your throat. How many people know of your father’s deepest shame? Feyd-Rautha seems to revel in that silent moment. Your pain brings him pleasure.
“I must return to my guests,” you say and step around him. His hand shoots out to grab your arm, but you're prepared. You evade, pull your arms taut to your chest, and dart down the hall as his laugh taunts. The respect you built with the Harkonnens was nothing more than delusion. It doesn’t matter what teeth you bare or claws you present, any show of weakness will be exploited.
You round a corner and nearly crash into a guard. The same one from earlier. He questions if you’re hurt, eyes darting the corridor behind you. He seems to find nothing. You agree with his warnings now. It’s best you don’t wander alone.
You wake unrested. Images of blackened teeth, slicing blades, and hoarse laughter haunt you into the morning hours. You’ve made the decision to retain a personal guard. The choice in who is easy.
You spend the day reviewing everything for your coming of age in a couple of days. Your father is supposed to do it, but he’s nowhere to be found. It’s tedious but the hours of distraction are welcome. And it gives you reason to decline Paul’s lunch invitation. It’s only when the sun is past its peak that you’re forced to hand over the remaining duties to your grumbling father. The swordmaster demands your time to refine a performance you still can’t rationalize. Who is it for?
Your father? A man who despises any display of femininity from you? The princess? In some attempt at an apology for a marriage that can now no longer be? Or House Atreides? The ones who’d stolen your destiny before you’d been a seed in your mother’s womb? This artistry certainly isn’t for the brutes of House Harkonnen.
The music halts half way through the fourth run. “Your timing is wrong,” the swordmaster says and has you begin again.
By time he’s satisfied, your legs burn and your patience is worn thin. You can only glower at your guard, Fandral you’ve learned is his name, as he compliments the dance. “I like the story it tells,” he defends.
“There’s not a story.” You massage the shoulder of your sword arm. The ache isn’t unwelcome, but the cause is frustrating. The time would have been better spent actually training.
“All art tells a story,” he says.
You scoff. “And what’s the story? I go crazy and start fighting air?”
“You can see it that way, but I think there’s more nuance.” He eyes the girls as you hand off the swords as if expecting one of them to run you through. “It’s the story of a girl turning into a woman.”
A laugh erupts from you. It’s a fitting story for your coming of age, at least. He tries to explain his reasoning. The symbolism of the first sword as the first menstruation, the second as the final years of youthful rebellion, and the end is the acceptance of the new role as a woman. You don’t quite believe it.
There’s no dreams of black teeth or the bite of blades that night. This nightmare is of your mother. Her face unmoving. Silent as you scream. She never moves, but she’s forever out of reach. Then she’s gone and you’re left gasping in the dark alone.
“This is beautiful,” Paul says in awe as he stares out over the lake.
It’s difficult to not let every word out of his mouth annoy you. You remind yourself he didn’t steal anything from you. His mother did. “You should see it at sunrise.”
He tears his gaze off the water. “I’d like that.” He says it so earnestly you feel you’re missing something.
“As would I,” Irulan says. You turn your head to look at her on your otherside, but her eyes remain focused on the scenery.
“And I,” the Harkonnen rasps in your ear.
His addition to the excursion had been as unexpected as it was unwanted. He didn’t seem the type to enjoy a day by the water. Even now, he’s at odds with the world around him. His stark white skin and ghastly black clothes unsettling out amongst the colors. You doubt he truly wants to see the beauty of first light.
“Another day,” you say. It’s not a promise.
You only plan to stay for an hour at most, enjoying a light lunch under your favorite tree, but Paul asks about going out on the lake. There’s only a small canoe available on such short notice, but it’s enough. Irulan has no desire to get on the water and says she’d prefer to ask Feyd-Rautha about the Spice harvesting on Arrakis. You aren’t keen on leaving her with him, but she insists and there’s guards to keep her safe.
Paul tries to play the gentleman and offers you his hand once he’s in the canoe, but he’s unsteady and nearly tips it over. You return his apologetic smile as you hear hoarse, barking laughter from the tree.
He’s inquisitive as you row out of sight. About your studies, arts you partake in, foods you enjoy. He even asks about your favorite color. You try to respond in kind, but he doesn’t leave you much time to catch your breath between answers let alone ask your own questions. It’s frustrating but you smile and bear it.
“What’s that?”
Blinking at him confused, you follow his gaze. A few meters from the shoreline was a small marble pavilion. It’s overgrown with vines, graying from the accumulation of dirt and grime. You’ve forgotten it was here. It feels like there’s cotton in your mouth when you speak. “Just an old pavilion.”
You let him take the canoe further for a while longer, before turning it back. You don’t look at the pavilion when you pass it again. It’s a relief to come back into view of the others. The canoe floats to stop beside the small dock. Fandral is there waiting, his arm extended. But Paul stands too quickly and the canoe sways. Your hand brushes Fandral’s outstretched one for a moment, but you tilt the other way and spill into the frigid water.
It's not deep. Once you have bearings you’re able to stand and your head breaks through the surface. You take in a deep, shuddering breath. There’s a commotion beside you. Paul’s head pops out and sprays more water in your face.
Someone’s speaking, but there's a river flowing in your ears that makes it impossible to understand. It's a difficult walk to the dock. Your dress is heavy and the water slows your steps. An arm reaches out to you and you take it to help pull yourself up.
Feyd-Rautha stares down at you. Not with a smile. There’s no amusement on his face. There's something new in his eyes you don’t recognize. It takes Fandral’s interference to release you from the intensity of his gaze. The guard shrugs off the jacket of his uniform and drapes it around your shoulders.
Irulan frets despite your multiple assurances you’re fine. It wasn’t deep. There was no danger. You’re wet, that’s all. Paul apologizes over and over and over again. “It was an accident,” you say in hopes of appeasing his guilt. You want Paul Atreides to leave you alone.
your thoughts are appreciated!
join my taglist 💕
next chapter
#feyd rautha x reader#feyd x reader#feyd rautha harkonnen#feyd rautha smut#dune part two#stolen destiny
734 notes
·
View notes
Text
𓏴⠀⠀༝༝⠀𝓛𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝓗𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 ! . 𓌔𓌔
Table of contents ⋮ Mikage Reo, love motel, drunk sex, bar, prostitute reader, bribed sex, dry humping, clothed sex, hairpulling, hickeys / lovebites, claw marks, thigh fucking, having sex while on the phone, blowjob, unprotected sex, porn without plot, fucking in the car, semi-public sex, aged up Reo, and gender neutral reader ♡
Summary ⋮ In which, Mikage Reo goes to a bar with his teammates after they had won a soccer match. Unfortunately, for him, he had gotten intoxicated over the drinks, and decided to hire a prostitute that works in the bar just for tonight. All while renting a love hotel just for the both of you.
Note ⋮ Minors do not interact. But anyway, arigathanks @cyberlovesalcohol for the request laughs.
★ ─── 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐃 through the dimly lit bar, his vision blurred by the intoxicating effects of the alcohol coursing through his veins. The pulsing beat of the music thrummed in his ears, a dizzying cacophony that seemed to mirror the chaos swirling in his mind. He leaned heavily against the counter, his chin resting on the polished wood as he groaned in frustration. The bet he had made with his teammates now felt like a cruel joke, a challenge he had foolishly accepted in a moment of drunken bravado.
As his teammates, Chigiri Hyoma and Nagi Seishiro, announced their departure to the bathroom, Reo waved them off dismissively, his words slurring together in a jumbled mess. "Reo, me and Nagi and are gonna go to the bathroom for a moment." Chigiri's voice seemed to echo in the haze of Reo's intoxication, the red-haired male patting Reo's shoulder to get his attention. Reo merely grunted in acknowledgment, his eyes struggling to focus on the faces of his friends as they left him alone at the bar.
With a heavy sigh, Reo pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to alleviate the throbbing pain that pulsed behind his eyes. As he shifted uncomfortably on his stool, he became acutely aware of the growing arousal that strained against the confines of his pants. The alcohol had lowered his inhibitions, leaving him in a state of desperate need, but the presence of his teammates in the bathroom made it impossible for him to seek relief on his own.
Reo's gaze wandered aimlessly around the bar, his intoxicated mind grasping for a solution to his predicament. Suddenly, his eyes landed on a figure leaning against the wall, scrolling idly on their phone. As the person glanced up, meeting Reo's half-lidded stare, a flicker of recognition sparked in Reo's alcohol-addled brain. "Oho? Hey cutie. What's up with you?" the stranger asked, raising a suggestive eyebrow.
"Hi.." Reo managed to slur, his words barely audible above the din of the bar. The stranger chuckled, pocketing their phone as they appraised Reo with a knowing smirk. "You want something from me, or something?" they inquired, their tone laced with a seductive promise.
Reo's gaze raked over the stranger's form, his intoxicated mind fixating on the alluring curves and the tantalizing glimpses of skin revealed by their clothing. "Yeah.. You," he blurted out, his inhibitions lowered to the point of recklessness. The stranger's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by a calculating gleam. "And what do I get in return?" they asked, holding out a hand expectantly.
With fumbling fingers, Reo pulled out his wallet, extracting a stack of bills that far exceeded the usual fee for such services. The stranger's eyes widened at the sight of the generous offering, a slow grin spreading across their face. "Alright, alright.. I'm in, then." they purred, snatching the money from Reo's grasp.
As the stranger led Reo away from the bar, weaving through the throng of patrons with a practiced ease, Reo's heart raced with a heady mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The alcohol had lowered his defenses, leaving him vulnerable to the temptations of the night. Little did he know, the stranger had their own agenda, one that would leave Reo questioning the true nature of their encounter long after the haze of intoxication had lifted.
Reo's heart raced as the stranger led him through the dimly lit alleyway, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat that simmered beneath his skin. The alcohol coursing through his veins had lowered his inhibitions, leaving him vulnerable to the temptations that lay ahead. With a sudden surge of boldness, Reo pulled the stranger back, his intoxicated mind taking control. He guided them to his car, his hands trembling with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.
As they approached his car, a sleek and luxurious vehicle that spoke of wealth and status, Reo felt a flicker of lust. This was not the usual setting for his clandestine encounters, but the promise of pleasure overrode any reservations he might have had.
Reo's heart raced as he guided the mysterious stranger into the backseat of his luxurious car, the plush leather seats enveloping them in a cocoon of intimacy. The stranger's skilled hands roamed over Reo's body, teasing and caressing with a practiced ease that sent shivers down his spine. Reo's breath hitched as the stranger's fingers brushed against the straining bulge in his pants, his hips bucking involuntarily in search of more friction.
With a deft motion, the stranger unzipped Reo's pants, freeing his throbbing erection from its confines. Reo groaned, his head falling back against the headrest as the cool air of the car caressed his heated flesh. The stranger's tongue darted out, licking a slow, deliberate path along the underside of Reo's shaft before swirling around the sensitive head, teasing the bead of precum that had formed at the tip.
Reo's fingers tangled in the stranger's hair, guiding their head as they took him deeper into the warm, wet cavern of their mouth. The stranger's tongue worked in tandem with their lips, creating a delicious friction that had Reo's toes curling in ecstasy. Just as he was about to lose himself completely in the sensations, his phone buzzed with an incoming call, shattering the intimate atmosphere.
With a frustrated groan, Reo answered the call, his voice strained as he tried to maintain a semblance of composure. "Hello..?" he managed to gasp out, his hips twitching as the stranger continued their ministrations.
"Reo? Hey, we just went back from the bathroom and we didn't find you. Where are you?" Chigiri's voice filtered through the phone, concern lacing his tone.
Reo's mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for his absence. "H-haah.. I'm about to head home.. I got too drunk, so I'm leaving early, fuck.." he managed to choke out, his grip on the stranger's hair tightening as they hollowed their cheeks, increasing the suction.
Chigiri laughed, oblivious to the compromising position Reo found himself in. "Oh, I see. I'm pretty surprised you left Nagi behind though. He's whining on how he wants to go home with you because walking is too much of a hassle, he says."
Reo gritted his teeth, his free hand clenching into a fist as he fought to maintain his composure. "Y-yeah, yeah.. Just head him home.. I can't go back.. I-i'm busy."
As the call ended, Reo let his head fall back against the headrest, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. The stranger's tongue traced the sensitive underside of his shaft once more before engulfing him fully, their head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm that had Reo seeing stars.
Lost in the haze of pleasure, Reo surrendered himself to the moment, his inhibitions lowered to the point of recklessness. The stranger's skilled mouth worked him closer and closer to the edge, their tongue and lips coaxing him towards a release he desperately craved. With a final, muffled moan, Reo's body tensed, his hips bucking as he spilled himself into the stranger's eager mouth, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over him in an overwhelming tide.
As the last tremors of his orgasm subsided, Reo collapsed back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. The stranger released him with a final, teasing lick, their lips curving into a satisfied smirk as they wiped the remnants of his release from their chin. Reo watched through hooded eyes as the stranger tucked him back into his pants, their fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
Reo just couldn't get enough of you. His hands gripped your shoulders tightly as he whined, "M-mmf.. More, more please. I want more.." He was already completely wrapped around your fingers, and you two had only just met. You awkwardly blinked at him, before letting out a small, amused laugh. "Alright, alright," you hummed, sitting back in the car. However, you were caught off guard when Reo suddenly moved to the front seat. "What're you doing?" You hum. With a few quick motions, he switched something and pressed a button. "Auto driving mode." he replied so casually, as if it was no big deal. You sweatdropped, realizing just how incredibly wealthy he must be. Your own car didn't even have such an advanced feature. The difference in your wealth was stark.
But you tried not to dwell on it too much. After all, you were getting paid handsomely for this job. As the car smoothly transitioned to auto driving mode, Reo returned to the back seat with you. His hands gripped your hips possessively as your arms encircled his neck. He pushed you down onto the plush leather seats, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. At the same time, he began grinding his hard cock against your clothed bottom, seeking delicious friction. You moaned into the kiss, your body already responding to his touch.
Lost in the haze of lust, you didn't even question where Reo was driving you both to. His tongue delved into your mouth, making you gasp for air. He rolled his hips against your thighs, wondering how incredible you would feel clenching around his throbbing shaft. Breaking the kiss, he trailed his tongue along your neck, leaving a path of hickeys and love bites in its wake. You tugged at his hair, a mix of pain and pleasure shooting through you.
Reo knew he needed to wait until they reached a nearby hotel before taking things further. He couldn't risk his parents finding out about this tryst in the morning. Groaning, he squeezed your plump thighs, appreciating the softness of your skin. His other hand roamed over your curves, tracing every dip and contour of your body. He was drunk on your scent, your taste, your touch...
Suddenly, the car came to a stop. Reo glanced out the window and spotted a love hotel nearby. They must have arrived at their destination. He quickly pulled his pants back up, not wanting to risk getting caught with his pants down. Taking your hand, he practically dragged you out of the car, locking it behind you. He strode purposefully towards the front desk, using his black card to pay for a night's stay. Your eyes widened at the sight of it - you had suspected he was rich, but carrying around a black card so casually? He was loaded.
"Here are your keys, enjoy," the receptionist said with a knowing smile, clearly recognizing a couple looking for some privacy. Reo didn't waste any time, hastily dragging you to your assigned room. He pinned you against the door, claiming your mouth in a searing kiss as his hands groped your body. Fumbling with the keys, he finally managed to unlock the door and push you inside, locking it behind you.
Wasting no time, Reo stripped off his clothes, eager to get his hands on you. He tugged at your clothing impatiently as he dragged you towards the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded garments in your wake. Finally naked, he sprung his hard cock free, groaning at the sight of your exposed body. He teased your clothed hole with his leaking tip, rubbing against it for delicious friction. He also ground his shaft against your closed thighs, thrusting between them and coating your skin with his precum.
Unable to hold back any longer, Reo came all over your thighs and stomach, marking you as his. He sighed, finally removing your underwear so he could sink into your tight heat. Gripping your hips, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, pushing his tip against your entrance. You clung to him, moaning as he stretched you open. You moaned, forming claw marks on his back as he slid inside, your walls clenching around his thick shaft.
"M-mngh─ fuck.." Reo groaned, slowly sinking into your warmth. "H-haah.. S-so warm, and tight," he praised, savoring the exquisite sensation of your walls clenching around him. He began to move, rolling his hips against yours, fucking you raw. All you could do was moan, tugging at his hair as he took you right there on the hotel bed, lost in a haze of passion and desire.
.
.
.
.
.
The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the hotel room. You groaned softly as you stirred awake, your head feeling fuzzy and your body aching all over. Your thighs in particular throbbed with a dull soreness. Blinking blearily, you reached out to pull back the sheets, only to realize you were completely naked. For a moment, you were disoriented, unsure of where you were. This was definitely not your bedroom.
As your vision focused, you took in your surroundings - the plush carpet, the expensive-looking furniture, the faint scent of sex still lingering in the air. Memories of the previous night came flooding back. Right, you had taken a job as a prostitute and spent the night with a wealthy stranger, fucking him senseless in exchange for cold hard cash. Just another typical night on the job for you.
But as you sat up and looked around, your eyes widened in shock. The bed was absolutely covered in stacks of crisp bills, more money than you had ever seen in one place. Holy shit, this guy was loaded! You couldn't believe it. Sure, he might have fucked you so hard you could barely walk now, but this kind of cash could keep you afloat for almost a whole year!
A slow grin spread across your face as you reached out to grab a handful of the bills, relishing the feel of them in your hands. Maybe getting pounded into oblivion by some rich dude wasn't so bad after all, if it meant waking up to a king's ransom like this. You chuckled to yourself, already thinking about all the ways you could spend your newfound wealth.
Sure, your body might be sore and aching, but your bank account was going to be looking mighty fine after this. All in all, not a bad night's work for a prostitute like you. You stretched languidly, enjoying the pleasant burn of well-used muscles, and reached for your clothes. Time to hit the road and see just how far this cash could take you.
#reo mikage#mikage reo x reader#bllk x reader#bllk x you#blue lock#bllk smut#bllk#semi public sex#blowjov#unprotected sex#love bites#drunk slvt#bar#drinking#alcohol#៹ ࣪ 𓏴 vrtualirl ֪ 𓂃
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
i don't like a lot of discussions i've seen regarding whether radahn said yes or not to the vow for a couple reasons. 1) it's never tied into the greater theme of bodily autonomy/the loss of it in elden ring and is instead only ever brought up to make miquella seem worse and 2) i think it's not supposed to be the MAJOR focus regarding radahn becoming miquella's consort (yes you can still discuss it and i will).
I really do believe the reason why there's no solid proof in the story (aside from freyja, who is an important member of radahn's army, blatantly stating radahn would've wanted this. not saying to take everything at face value but her character does seem reliable enough when talking about radahn) is because that's not the point regarding miquella and radahn's vow. there is emphasis on mohg's body being used against his wishes but not radahn. if the game wanted to let you know it was not what radahn wanted they would've said it clearly because ansbach does so for mohg. radahn and miquella's unity (or rather failure to unite) is supposed to be representative of miquella's failures due to his misunderstanding of the world and the golden order. at the end of the day radahn and miquella do share similar enough motivations
the reason why radahn most likely sought to become miquella's consort is because miquella does not intend to usurp the golden order. miquella infact is representative of regression. his unalloyed needle returns things to its former state, his nascent state prior kept him in an ever looping cycle of nearing the crest of ascension and then going back to the beginning... he is literally the son of radagon, whose major contribution to golden order fundamentalism is the concept of return and regression being a way to achieve unity and completion. miquella is trying to restore the golden order to what he believes it once was, hence why he follows his mother's path. he seeks the land of shadow and abandons his flesh there because that is the root of marika's journey, by allowing himself to be rebirthed anew in this banished place of marika's psyche he brings the shadow to light in an attempt to integrate it into his new self. he completes this ascension at the same site marika ascended: the gates of divinity. the only example we have of a demigod who ascends successfully (i personally don't think marika is supposed to be viewed as a successful ascension) after shedding their flesh is ranni, who purposefully does not pick the same path as marika and rather seeks a defiance of the golden order's laws. regression and its failures is the whole point of the dlc. it is why we fell characters like messmer who are not carving a solution to a problem but rather are allowing a reignition of it, continuing the cycle of karmic accumulation and retribution after reincarnation.
importantly the basis of radahn's loyalty to the golden order is that he idolises what it was before, not what it is now. his appraisal for godfrey and also his friendly relation with messmer is meant to show you that he is a follower of the ideal that the golden order has fallen victim to some sort of degredation of its 'true values' over time. godfrey ushered in the new age through battle, and his consortship to marika marked the start of the golden order's reign. as for messmer, messmer is upholding the crucial foundation for the golden order's existence; marika's spite for the hornsent, but as i mentioned prior... his crusades against the hornsent only serve to repeat the cycle of violence, and by extension this makes radahn related to the ideas of stagnation and repetition. godfrey and messmer can be considered the building blocks of the current era, but both were banished and had their image ruined in the favour of some sort of progression/shroud over the origins of the golden order. like miquella, radahn is the son of radagon, and he boasts his red hair in honour of his father; yet again, the most important establisher of regression in golden order fundamentalism. in truth the impacts of the golden order we see now have always been the true values it has upheld, but like miquella, radahn doesn't see that. all of this aligns radahn well enough with miquella, both characters have always served to 'fix' the golden order rather than destroy it and establish their own orders.
it is also why miquella and radahn are an incestuous involvance. why they make a point of having miquella refer to radahn as his lord brother. they are both regressing so fucking hard they fall back on the 'true' heirs to the golden lineage; themselves, which is yet again another idea of purity and perfection as put out by the conservative ideation of the golden order. (the circle, the symbol of unity, which is also an everlasting loop closing in on itself. hence why miquella's choice is radahn. whereas ranni picks you, a tarnished who was exiled from the lands between and has no prior relation to her family. yet another way she breaks the concept of regression and recirculation)
it can matter on a larger scale when we are discerning the meta narrative and what this means for us, the viewers, and what we can retrieve from this. but in this case, both radahn AND miquella demonstrate how systems like the golden order strip one of their self autonomy in the name of a greater, holier force that must be worshipped (the concept of a percect leader and empire). miquella rescinds what makes him himself (his love) because of his attempt to participate in this system, even if he means to 'reform' it (which is clearly impossible if you know literally any amount of political theory at all). radahn lacks his own identity and defines himself via others. because he strives to be the perfect servant and defender of the system. hence why this also applies to malenia, she gives herself up fully to miquella in hopes of ushering in his era. but i literally have not seen any discussion about this when it comes to saying radahn might've said no... it's not discussed in an interesting way and instead seems like an excuse to place miquella as a sort of black and white villain.
#elden ring#fromsoft#i love miquella but if you're going to hate on him hate on him for the right reasons 🤷♀️
75 notes
·
View notes
Note
maybe i'm misunderstanding the concept, but it lately it's felt like Online Leftists™️ have been using homonationalism as a cudgel against lgbt people wanting to go abroad and feel comfortable doing so instead of as idk a way to critique american exceptionalism or whatever
The thing about Online Leftists and American exceptionalism in any capacity is that literally all their ideas and concepts of it are a) gibberish and b) completely contradictory and hypocritical. This is because it is all based on a reactionary Vibes ideology that has to constantly change itself to oppose whatever the Democrats/the US/the West in general is doing and therefore has no actual logical guidelines or consistent internal principles. To wit:
America is the most powerful country in the world, and that influence is always and forever totally evil because (insert terrible shit America has done here, which is then generalized and applied to all time periods and places without context or nuance). Indeed, America is so powerful that no other country or government in the world has actual agency or makes real choices for which they are morally and legally responsible; they're just helpless and manipulated pawns reacting to American/Western imperialism (which is the only kind of imperialism that exists, somehow). As such, nothing they ever do is actually "bad" or worthy of condemnation, because they're just totally victimized by America and everything they do is justified as long as it is anti-America. Hence, Russia genociding the Ukrainians is actually fine and good, the Ukrainians must have deserved it somehow (witness how many of the people currently screaming about Gaza were yelling that Ukraine was totally fine to attack actually!) and America is evil for trying to intervene. Russian propaganda calls America bad, we think America is bad, and therefore Russian propaganda must be correct, we love Russian propaganda a whole lot and have no interest in examining that fact any further. Russia is actually good because it used to be the USSR! Did you know that?
However, Israel genociding Gaza is utterly unforgivable and terrible and anyone who tries to offer any kind of realistic critique or appraisal of what can or can't be done to stop it is a genocide apologist. America should in fact be intervening to the point of invading Israel and/or dismantling the Israeli state, because maximalist American military intervention is Good when we say it is (but the rest of the time it's the most awful evil thing in the world WHY DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT THE GLOBAL SOUTH). America is still the most powerful country in the world and it should be intervening at all times, but actually it shouldn't do that at all because we're totally not the right-wing America First isolationists sent through the rabbit hole. If America does not choose to exercise its almighty godlike power to stop all the evil in the world (but remember, American military intervention of any kind is obviously bad and Ukraine should definitely still be genocided), it is just proving how evil it actually is. Remember, nobody else makes real choices. They're just reacting to America. America is all-powerful and also evil but still should use this evil power for good because it's good if we decide it is.
Voting is meaningless because the parties are the same, but it's powerful enough to produce a president god-king who could just decide to snap his fingers and end all bad things in the world but just doesn't do that (at least if he's a Democrat; we don't really care what a Republican president does). We think this is a good idea, but don't worry, America is still the source of all evil in the world. America should intervene everywhere and nowhere all at once. America should do nothing because everything it does is evil and past redemption and the only solution is The Revolution which destroys society. America is evil because it was founded on the violent oppression and exploitation of minorities, and therefore the solution is to let fascists be elected to punish those minorities even more because they get in the way of our purist thought experiments and their actual lived experiences don't matter when they contradict our Ideology. BUT ACTUALLY IT STILL SHOULD MILITARILY INTERVENE EVERYWHERE WE SAY SO BUT ACTUALLY IT SHOULDN'T EVER GLOBAL SOUTH. (We don't know what the Global South is or any of its issues, politics, problems, identities, languages, postcolonial developments or so forth, but we know that the Cold War happened and it was all America's fault. Have you heard this piece of Russian propaganda about how Joe Biden is the antichrist? SILENCE IS VIOLENCE SO YOU BETTER SHARE IT.)
Likewise, we support LGBTQ rights in theory but we don't think they're ever worth actually voting to protect (remember, voting is meaningless!) if that also contradicts our aim of The Revolution. We love virulently anti-gay groups like the Houthis if they theoretically support our Anti Genocide stance (don't look at Ukraine, that doesn't count) and also hate Jews. Israel is the only country in the world that has LGBTQ rights and also does stupid or awful military things, and therefore it alone is the problem because it's just pretending to be a democracy or have LGBTQ rights (in comparison to the rest of the Middle East) because it's just cynically covering for all its sins, but those sins are actually America, because Israel is just a white settler colonialist outpost of America, so America not stopping what Israel is doing (by being Israel) is bad. Remember, America is the source of all evil in the world and all other countries are its puppets, so it is also Israel, but it should stop being Israel, because it's the only country that ever makes any choices or has agency. We are very smart.
...basically, if your head hurt trying to read that or follow the logic, that's the point. It has to change constantly and contort itself around in order to both oppose those Weak Mainstream Liberals and act like it has the perfect moral high ground in doing so, regardless of what principles it has to change or what hypocrisies it has to embrace. As such, it has been stripped of any authentic critique or ability to say anything about anything, and I suggest we generally stop letting it pretend that it does. That is the only way to rescue western leftism and make it actually 2% of use at opposing fascism, because right now? Nah. Not in the least. It's actively and gleefully enabling fascism, and after so long hearing how us normie Democratic-voting losers were going to be the ones collaborating with fascists, it makes me just a little bit crazy. Good thing we can erase that too.
142 notes
·
View notes
Text
ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ xxɪɪ - ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪᴠᴇʀ
pairing: dilf!jake x omatikaya!reader
➽ words: >800 words
➽ a/n: i honestly don't know if i should keep writing these, but i couldn't help myself with this one. dilf!jake thoughts will what do what dilf!jake thoughts do best, it's like a trance taking over me.
➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: pet names (doll, kid)
➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)
Your muscles are aching and sore, a common occurrence recently, since the Olo’eyktan has decided everyone needs to work harder to pull their weight, to ensure the clan is ready for the inevitable offensive onslaught brought about by the demons coming from the stars above. It’s been non-stop, the training and drills, your body so drenched in mud at all-times, it almost became a second skin. You can feel your satin top clinging to your form, perfectly moulded to the shape of your breasts, accentuating your hardened nipples and your flawless, fuckable little body.
Jake felt like such a perverted old man, staring at you making your way to the riverbank, no doubt trying to wash away the day, trying to loosen the tight knots in your shoulders and back. It was so strange - never before has Jake found someone to look somehow even better all disheveled and muddy, but there you were, a beautiful doll with the most perfect tits in the world and an ass that was begging for a thick cock to sit on. Luckily for Jake, he had some time to spare and just the perfect solution to… loosen you up after such a hard day.
You jumped a little as you noticed how close the Olo’eyktan has gotten to you, his musky, earthy, woody scent inundating your senses and making slick pool in your already clinging tewng. It was hard, being close to him. You tried to avoid it, because you hated feeling week, or like a child, but around him, taking in his rugged beauty and his muscular, strong body, bulging muscles always on display, thick thighs almost calling out for you to ride them, dragging your soaking folds against the tight, taut, azure skin until the pressure exploded all around you... let's just say all rational thoughts went swiftly out the window.
"Alright there, kid? I didn't work you too hard now, did I?"
"N-no, sir."
"Sir?" His eyes bore into your own, and you couldn't break away from his gaze, preying and teasing, intense and fascinated. He swirled the word around his tongue like a precious liquor, before he made his appraisal. "I like that. Sounds good coming from your lips."
It took no time for him to join you in the river, the icy temperature of the water not eliciting as much as a bat of an eyelash to this hardened specimen of a man.
"Let me help get you cleaned up, what d'you say? It's the least I can do after pushing you so hard these past few weeks."
His muscles tense as he sits down, the water falling in a tumultuous stream as it hit his back. He pats his lap lazily, welcoming you in between his legs. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight, at the way he was maintaining eye contact, at the way he was devouring you with his darkening stare.
"C'mon, doll. I won't bite, I promise."
Unable to resist any further, you oblige, turning your back to him and dropping until you were perched in between his thighs, allowing the water to submerge you to your collarbones, feeling your nipples harden again, as you struggled to adjust to the coolness of the river.
"There you go, good girl."
He took no time in reaching across and caressing your body with his huge hands, moving them across your abdomen and back in soothing motions that did wonders for your tense disposition, making you instantly forget that you were in public, and that anything too conspicuous would inevitably be visible to all the other Na'vi scattered across the ever-moving body of water.
You moan and keen into his touch, throwing your head back as his fingers find the sensitive skin of your breast, kneading them carefully, catching your erect buds in between his thumb and index finger, twisting and pulling. The sensation was intoxicating, heightened by the hard-on pushing against your aching, desperate, needy cunt and the way his tongue was dragging across the nape of your neck. You start moving on his length involuntarily, dry-humping him through both your messy, wet loincloths.
"Let me take it off, baby girl. Need to feel you take every inch of my cock."
When his fingers wrap around the band of your tewng, undoing it expertly, you gasp - it was big, so big, bigger than you've ever imagined.. or ever had. You were almost scared, intimidated at the thought of being stretched by him, filled to the brim and split open until you were merely a toy, to be used and abused however he saw fit. There was excitement, too, stupid relief at the thought, at how it'd feel, at how good you'd feel.
"S-s'big, sir. 's not gonna fit."
As he dragged his tip across your folds, teasing you before pushing in just past the entrance, you mewl and push back into him, silently begging him for more.
"Shh, doll. So fucking needy, aren't you? So gorgeous, make an old man like me drop to my knees. Gonna look so good, bouncing up and down on daddy's cock."
taglist: taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @neteyamyawne @eyweveng @tiredwitch1113@hadesbabygurl@linydoll @the-mourning-moon
#lunaskinktober2023#break my back like a glowstick daddy#jake sully#jake sully smut#jake sully fic#dilf jake sully#avatar smut#avatar twow#avatar#avatar fanfic#jake x reader#jake smut#jake sully x reader#jake sully x yn#jake sully reader#avatar reader#avatar fanfiction#avatar jake#jake sully x y/n#jake sully drabble#avatar way of water#avatar the way of water#step dad jake sully#stepdad!jake sully#dbf!jake sully#dbf!jake#lunaskinktober2023 re: teyamsatan#༊*·˚ andra's works#◘ andra's oneshots/drabbles
187 notes
·
View notes
Text
Broken-Style Remix: No Peace For A Peace God
Broken: Hello, Everyone! My friend - @anxiousnerdwritings - allowed me to make a small snippet they created about a Minor God of Peace Reader leaving the Patheon they were in to live their immortal life in the mortal world; however, coming in contact with Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman and the Amazons makes that rather difficult. Let's see how everything goes. Let the words weave together!
Note: [Name] is a Minor God of Peace in the Greek Patheon; I chose Greek because the Amazons have ties to the Greek Patheon. This one-shot will be told from a first-person perspective.
Based on my observations, it seems that people eagerly anticipate the point in their lives when they no longer have to work. They view it as a time when they can live off the money they've saved over the years or the pension they receive from the government. Sometimes, I wonder what my life would have been like if I were a human being, attending school, getting a job, starting a family, and growing old before passing away and potentially being reincarnated to start anew.
Alas, fate did not wish that kind of life for me; thus, I was given the life of an immortal, even if my former role in the patheon was not are important as others were.
I am [Name], a Minor God/Goddess and the God/Goddess of Peace in the Greek Divine Pantheon. However, I must clarify that the rightful title of Goddess of Peace belongs to Lady Eirene. Though I am a Minor God/Goddess, I possess some powers similar to Lady Eirene's, but not on the same scale as hers. I can bring about peaceful solutions amongst mortals in small groups, such as villages and some of the other minor gods who reside on Mount Olympus. Lady Eirene, on the other hand, is responsible for maintaining peaceful relations between full-blown towns and councils with Olympus' Elite Gods. Although we both perform our duties well, Lady Eirene's name is more well-known and overshadows mine. As a result, I rarely receive offerings and prayers, and although I know I shouldn't be upset about it, it sometimes hurts my feelings.
As time passed, I began observing humanity closely and grew curious about their way of life. I even found myself envious of them. I considered leaving Olympus and living my immortal life among mortals, but my duties as a divine being held me back. I thought I still had a place among the gods and goddesses of Olympus, so I stayed.
One day, Lord Zeus invited all the minor and major gods and goddesses from other realms to a party on Mount Olympus. I arrived just before the party started, but was stopped by Lord Ares and Lord Zeus before I could enter the Great Hall. They told me that I could come to the party, but I argued that I was also of divine origin and therefore should be allowed in as well. Lady Eirene appeared, sensing the tension, but instead of vouching for me as a fellow god of peace, she told me that I shouldn't consider myself a god or goddess since I rarely received any offerings or prayers. She told me to leave Mount Olympus since the night was for the "true gods". That was the last straw for me.
I told them that I would no longer listen to them and that I wouldn't be tied to them by my divine blood. I abandoned Olympus and my fellow gods and goddesses at that moment and descended to the mortal realm. From that day on, I would live the remainder of my immortal life as a mortal. I was finally free.
Although I have lived for centuries, I appear to be only 18 years old. During my long life, I have accumulated a vast collection of gems and treasures. With the aim of starting my life anew, I decided to sell a small portion of them and make a decent amount of money. I took my collection to an appraiser, who gave me a fair price. Since I didn't want to stay in Greece any longer, I used the money to purchase a ticket for the first boat out of the country.
Destination?
A place known as Gotham City.
The boat ride from Gotham was long but that gave me all the time I needed to make the proper plans I needed to start my life over: I would use my power to give myself citizenship by creating the necessary documents such as a birth certificate and social security number. Next, I would find a decent place to live before finding a job; I may have the funds I need to live on, but I still need a life for myself. I made a mental note to purchase a device known as a 'cell phone';; a passenger on the boat was watching something 'videos' on a social platform known as 'YouTube'. I was going to need this strange device and knowledge of these social media platforms if I truly wanted to be a human.
I acquired a cell phone and started searching for apartment listings in my area. I found a decent 2-bedroom unit with a bathroom, living room, dining room, kitchen, and a balcony. I contacted the realtor and he was eager to show me the apartment the same day. We agreed to meet at a local cafe that was currently hiring for a barista and baker, as it was located right down the street from the apartment. Before the realtor arrived, I managed to pick up an application from the hiring manager. We then walked to the apartment, which was rather nice with dark wooden floors in the living and dining rooms, tiled floors in the kitchen and bathroom, and carpet in the bedrooms. The rent and deposit were reasonable, and the realtor had the paperwork with him. He told me that if I signed it, I could move in the same day. I had a look at the leasing contract to ensure that there were no hidden terms, and upon finding nothing, I asked a few questions with the recording app on my phone to use as evidence in case the realtor tried anything suspicious later. After signing the paperwork, I received the keys to the apartment and mailbox. The realtor informed me that I would receive a copy of the lease in the mail, and then left me alone in my new apartment.
A week later, I returned to the cafe with the filled-out application for the barista and baker positions; after a test to prove I would be capable of handling the tasks under pressure - there wasn't really any pressure since I used my aura to keep everyone calm and acting decent and in order - I was given the job.
It would be another month when my mortal life started shifting in another direction upon meeting Bruce Wayne.
I was working the morning shift when a well-dressed male with piercing blue eyes walked into the cafe and walked over to the counter; there was no line since I already handled it an hour ago. He ordered a dark coffee and a strawberry cheesecake muffin before he took a seat in the booth; there was something about him that radiated sadness. He continued working on his laptop for about 2 hours, long since finishing his coffee and muffin; I made him another coffee, warmed up another muffin, and placed them before him, causing him to look at me with confusion in his eyes, I smiled at him.
"You seem like you are under a lot of stress, these are on the house." I said before walking away. Just then, the door burst open and 3 masked figures barged in with guns, causing everyone to scream in fear while cowering in their chairs but I refused to move from where I was standing. The leader of the group pointed his gun in my face but I looked calmly down the barrel before lifting my hand and moving the gun away before looking into his eyes - into his soul - and his secrets were revealed to me; he was doing this out of desperation.
"Do you think that she would want you to do this?" I asked, causing him to look at me confused, "I know that you are not doing this because of malice in your heart. I know that you are shaking in your soul with fear and anxiety. You want to be a good son and save the woman who gave you everything but this is not the way to do that."
"Then, what can I do? What other option do I have?" He whimpered at me. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a small ruby, and held it out to him before placing it in his palm.
"This is a Burmese Ruby. A Ruby of this size should be worth around $20,000; that should be more than enough to pay for her treatment and aid you in what else you need for a while. Please, never resort to this again; there is always a better way. Do you swear this?" I asked. He looked at the ruby, closed it in his fist, and sobbed before hugging me for a few moments and leaving with the other masked them. Everyone watched me for a while as I walked back around the counter to continue working as if nothing ever happened.
It would be about 3 days later when I received a visit from the Guardian of Gotham.
I had just arrived home after a long day at work, and the visage of a piping hot pizza filled my mind as I pulled out my phone and called my favorite pizza place and asked them to deliver my favorite [Pizza Type] pizza along with [Favorite Soda Type] soda with an [Dessert] in addition; I had some extra cash and I felt like I deserved something sweet for all my hard work. I sat down in my favorite chair and turned on my television to watch [Favorite TV Show] while waiting for my pizza. I was intuned with my show when I felt a familiar aura coming from my balcony, I looked in that direction and saw a towering figure standing on my balcony, watching me while blocking out the moonlight. I rose from my chair and walked over to the door before sliding it open and came face to face with a man in a bat suit. I looked at his face, the upper part of his face covered by his ask with a glare on his face as he looked down at me; however, his aura gave him away.
"You are aware that I don't have muffins and coffee here, right?" I asked with a raised eyebrow and a smile on my face; he looked shocked by my words and marched into the apartment, causing me to close my door and walk over to him with my arms folded, "Is there a reason you are wearing that suit and staring at me through my window, Mr. Wayne?"
"How do you know who I am?" He asked.
"Your aura gave it away - you're radiating the same sadness you were the moment we met. You can change outfits but your aura shall always remain the same.
"You can read aura? You are not human." He said.
"Nope. I'm not human, however, I do prefer to live like one; I've been living like this for the past month & a half and I prefer living to this than I did my previous life." I shrugged.
"If you aren't human, what are you exactly?" He asked.
"I'd rather not say." I heard a knock on the front door, and my mouth started watering, "Food's here! About time!" I walked to the door, greeted the delivery man, and paid for my food while giving him a generous tip before closing the door behind me with my foot since the food was in my hands; I looked around to see Burce was no longer there but I didn't care. Time to eat!
Life going forward would be difficult after meeting Burce Wayne because he didn't learn how to leave me the heck alone. He would come to the cafe and attempt to make conversation with me, trying to gain personal information about me. He would show up at my apartment as Bruce and Batman constantly trying to make me change my lifestyle to a 'healthier' one; he doesn't approve of the additional muffins I take home or the amount of frozen food I have in my freezer. Even when I am out in public, he somehow manages to find me and tries to interfere with my plans or worm his way into them. Then, he literally tried to tell me that I would be adopted into his family; no matter how many times I refused. He was really starting to get on my nerves.
It would be another month when I met another person who would attempt to uproot my life & alter it to their liking: The Man of Steel, Kal-El.
While working at a cafe, I discovered my passion for drawing, specifically digital art and animation. One day, I came across a contest on TV offering a drawing tablet as the prize and decided to enter. To my surprise, I won the contest and received the setup at my doorstep a week later. I set it up in the second room of my apartment, which I converted into an office. Initially, it took me some time to get used to the tablet, but soon I started creating digital art and animations, which I shared on my social media accounts. That was the beginning of my journey.
After accumulating a massive following on Facebook and Twitter, I received a message from an Animation Company stationed in Metropolis; they were requesting that I come in for a meeting for a possible partnership in regards to my art and animations. I agreed to their request and I received the time and date for the meeting; Metropolis was a decent distance away but I happened to have purchased a motorcycle last week and was looking forward to the meeting.
I got on my bike with my flash drives full of art and animations and headed to Metropolis for a meeting. Once I arrived at the building, I gave my name to the receptionist, who then took me to the meeting room. There, I presented my work and the representatives were thrilled with it. They offered me a generous signing bonus and commission for every artwork and animation I created for them. I agreed to do commission work as I wanted to keep my weekend job at the cafe but would work on their projects during the week. After reading and signing the business deal, I left the building. As I was leaving, I bumped into a tall man with light blue eyes, black hair, glasses, and a reporter's outfit with a camera around his neck, as well as a notepad and pen in his hands. He introduced himself as Clark Kent, a journalist and reporter for the Daily Planet of Metropolis. He wanted to interview me as the youngest person to be hired by the Animation Company. I offered to take him to lunch and give him the interview he was looking for after hearing his stomach growl.
During our conversation, he told me about his family: His wife and work partner, Lois, his son, Jon, and his younger brother, Connor; as well as his parents John and Martha Kent. I expressed how lucky he was to have such a close family since I wasn't close with my family. He seemed sad for me and offered to have me meet this family and even offered to have me take the Kent Name for myself since I didn't have a surname, but I refused his offer and went back home to start getting to work on the content my new bosses wanted me to do for completion in 2 weeks time. However, that would not be the last time I would ever see Clark Kent.
I was doing work in my office when I got a video call from Bruce, who was still pestering me to join his family and become [Name] Wayne, but I continued to refuse him when I noticed there was another request for a video call from someone I didn't recognize; curiosity got the better of me and I accepted the call - it happened to be Clark.
Clark (Smiling): Hi, [Name]! How are you doing today?!
[Name]: How did you get my contact information, Clark? I didn't give it to you the last time we talked.
Clark: I happen to have a friend who knew you and I got your contact information from him, but that's not important right now! Have you thought about what we talked about?
Bruce (In the background): You were the one who broke into my computer and stole [Name's] Contact Information, Kent?
Clark: Bruce? Is that you?
[Name] merges the call between Bruce and Clark]
Clark: Bruce, why are you talking to [Name]?
Bruce: I can ask you the same thing, Kent. I'm am trying to convince [him/her] to accept the Wayne Name.
Clark: The Wayne Name? No way that's happening! [Name] is going to become a Kent!
[Name]: I'm not taking either of your names nor am I joining your families. The Bat-Family & Super-Family have nothing to do with me and I want nothing to do with either of you. Now, I'm working, leave me alone.
[Name] Leaves The Video Call]
After that video call, it was silent for about 3 weeks, I thought the two of them got the message and decided to leave me alone; however, I couldn't be more wrong.
It was around that time a 3rd Player entered the game and I was going to have a hard time shaking this one off.
The Princess of the Amazonian Nation and Defender of Man's World: Diana of Themyscira.
It was one of my days off and I had nothing better to do, so I decided to do something I hadn't done in a long while - go flying. I waited for the sun to leave the sky and the full moon to shine, I stood on the roof of my apartment complex and made sure no one was around before I allowed my Divine Power to flow through my body and took off into the thick layers of clouds. Using the clouds as cover, even though I was almost certain no one could see me from this height, and if they happened to see me, they would have most likely mistaken me for a bird. I was enjoying myself, feeling the breeze on my face when I felt another aura quickly approaching me; I stopped flying and floated there for a while I noticed a figure approaching me and stopped a few feet away from me - A Woman.
No.
An Amazon Warrior.
"I am Diana of Themyscira - Princess of the Amazon Nation. I have served the gods faithfully and have always been able to sense when someone of divine blood was near. Imagine my surprise to find a Divine One masquerading as a human and living as one. I heard of your actions from 2 Males I have been working with to protect Man's Word; I can feel it within you - You are a God/Goddess, I can tell from your aura." Diana explained to me, I exhaled before folding my arms while looking at her.
"You are correct, I am a God/Goddess of Peace; however, I am a Minor God/Goddess. I was sick of the way I was being created on Mount Olympus and decided to leave and live as a human. I have been enjoying life as I have been now; with the exception of Bruce Wayne & Clark Kent bothering me to join their families, alas, they refuse to take no for an answer." I exhaled with a shake of my head at the thought of all of Bruce's & Clark's attempts.
"They shall not get the chance. You are of Divine Blood and you need to be treated as such. You shall come with me to Themyscira and we shall worship you as you are meant to be." Diana said.
"I'm not interested. I love being a human." I said.
"You are not human...and you shall not continue to live as one. Come with me willingly, or I shall take you by force." Diana warned.
"I said that I am not interested. Goodbye." I said. She charged at me and attempted to grab my arm but I vanished and teleported back to my living room in a flash of gold light.
I ran my hand through my hair, pulled out my phone, and requested a month's vacation from both of my jobs. Once I received confirmation on both ends, I called a friend who owns a cabin in the woods, away from Gotham & Metropolis, and asked to use it for a month. He agreed since he owed me a favor. I packed a few things such as clothes, my sketch tablet, grade & color pencils, and my wallet. I made sure my bike was locked securely and asked my neighbor, who I was on good terms with, to watch my house while I was out of the city. After receiving confirmation from her, I went back inside to grab my suitcase before teleporting to the cabin's location since I had been there before. I knew where the spare key was and went inside to get some sleep. I just wanted to relax.
Currently, I was sitting on the porch of the cabin with a cup of coffee in my hands when I felt 3 Familair Auras approaching my current location; I knew they were going to find me eventually but I was surprised it took them this long - my vacation was going to be over in 3 days; might as well deal with this now. I sipped my coffee just as a black bat-themed jet appeared over the treeline before hovering on the ground and the cockpit opened as Batman jumped out and started walking towards me as Superman and Wonder Woman landed on the low grass at the same time, glaring at each other before glaring at Bruce who was standing before me, telling me it was time for me to join his family.
Superman matched over to his dark-dressed friend and grabbed his shoulder to push him away from me while barking that I was going to go to the Kent Farm in Smallville, Kansas to live with his Pa & Ma; he already told them about me and they were looking forward to meeting me and welcoming me to the Kent Family.
Wonder Woman pushed the two men apart and roared at them that I was a God/Goddess, therefore I needed to be treated like one and not a human as I have been living for the past few months. I would go with her to the Amazon Island and be worshipped as I was meant to be; while that would have interested me in the past, I wasn't interested in it now.
As for me, I just sat there watching them before exhaling, 'Just as there are geniuses in Humanity, there are also idiots.'
[End of the Remix]
Broken: And done. What do you think, @anxiousnerdwritings?
#minor god reader#yandere dc#platonic yandere#batman#superman#wonder woman#bruce wayne#clark kent#diana of themyscira#yandere
116 notes
·
View notes
Text
yeah, being a fan of james t. kirk is so much fun. you get it all:
the historical kirk drift (he's a womanizer! he's always self-centered! he's brash and arrogant!)
the new kirk drift (he's soooooo stupid! an absolute himbo! no brains, just brawn <3 i don't care if these posts are "just jokes" they are still crafting a narrative, especially on here)
well-intentioned posts that make him out to be a perfect, morally good character who has never done anything selfish, never risked the lives of his crew due to a past obsession or his difficulty with relinquishing control (he has absolutely done these things. to overlook it is to miss the disparity between his lofty ideals and the harsh reality that his actions take, the gap between a soldier and a diplomat), that he is not an opportunist at his core and his ideals help temper that selfishness but doesn't overcome it completely as happens with actual humans all the time
people who write him off as boring compared to the other two members of the triumvirate
like, my point is that, between kirk not standing out compared to a character like spock (he's an alien! his inner conflict will keep happening no matter what due to his very biological make-up! a lot of people can see themselves in spock as someone caught in-between two worlds, two disparate expectations. despite his adherence to logic, people are far more consistent in recognizing the way he manages to act human and outside of logic, again furthering his internal conflict) or being consistently appraised compared to a character like bones (he's the personification of pathos (love) both for his profession as a doctor (first, do no harm) and for how he will always be in the position of wanting to save and help people (a private little war. he hates kirk's solution for the untold suffering and death it will create. kirk looks like a monster compared to mccoy in that episode, something that i struggled with on my first viewing owing to past episodes), who doesn't enjoy the grumbling, angry exterior to reveal the heart of gold beneath? or the way he and spock act as foils to each other and their relationship in general, the way one affirms the other as an alien or as a human), kirk looks so ordinary between them and these days it's easier to view him as just another cog in a violent machine owing to starfleet's nature as both a military force and diplomatic coalition. and, of course, star trek tos' nature as standalone episodes doesn't help in these matters. one can easily write off discrepancies as the result of poor continuity or come to overlook details entirely as they just passively watch the show.
and like, due to all of the above, that's how i have 90+ posts tagged jim kirk on my blog. i kept seeing the same complaints--he's boring, he's just like any other protagonist these days so he's hardly groundbreaking, he's stupid, he's selfish, etc.--so why not dig into the details and see if anything is being overlooked? he is a good character but it doesn't help what a viewer has to get past first in order to see it
*obligatory disclaimer that i am aware that kirk is historically a popular character. i've seen the fan polls from the 70s, and he's still a popular character now. this post isn't about popularity per se but it is about the ways that kirk has a lot of things altering how he is viewed by the fandom and how that changes how the character is understood. and it's also my own latent grievances but shhh
#star trek tos#jim kirk#anyways. this explains why i am not exactly normal about kirk & frankly why browsing the tag keeps setting me on edge#that and i know kirk being portrayed by shatner doesn't help given all the reasons why ppl hate shatner#but if you cannot separate a character from their actor.... skill issue#nimoy didn't write i am not spock as a lark ppl earnestly thought he *was* the character#that's the thing about type-casting: it means the actor did such a great job with a character that is all anyone sees them as#and yes this does include shatner. watch roger corman's the intruder 1962. that's shatner acting from one hell of a script.#idk. i feel like i'm in an odd spot here. at odds with fandom on 3 different sides but who am i blogging for?? myself :)
27 notes
·
View notes
Note
maestro04yayyy, maestro04yayyy I need, I need to tell you something, cos a Chloleka thought just burned itself into my skull and I have to share it , please forgive the ramble but like!
The time time Juleka officially declares CHloe is her girlfriend, that they are dating, is right in front of their class, in a public event, when meeting Audrey.
Specifically, its Style Queen day and before the death drama starts, Chloe tries introducing Juleka whom she had managed to get some official modeling shoots for.
Audrey's suitably impressed, not quite "Most exceptionally thing I have ever seen!" impressed, but definitely, "hmm, yes, those were exceptional shots, you have potential" impressed.
However things turn sour the moment Chloe tries to keep particpating in the conversation, because:
"& what do you have to do with her Cloaco, besides sharing I assume an age demographic."
"W- Well I arranged Juleka's shoots?"
"Even a stopped clock is right once a day, digital not analog, why are you bothering her now?"
Juela, having had enough of this, "She's also my girlfriend."
Class (Gasps) Rose (Complicated feelings!)
Audrey just gives her an appraising look before saying, "You can do better."
Choe: I'm trying mommy-
"Hush Clorox, Juleka was it? Don't tether yourself to a sow on pedigree alone," She sends Andre who is approaching a scathing look, "Trust me me on that."
Chloe has to physically stop Juleka from acting up, but the seat drama starts and its all lost in the hubbub.
When Audrey storms off, Chloe races to go after her and like, my mind goes in two directions.
1: She has to pull away from Juleka who is trying to keep her there but its clearly like pulling teeth and motivated by a mixture of, "Got to make mommy happy, & she will destroy Adrien's career over this, ETC."
Juleka doesn't follow, though maybe only cos she's physically stopped, but she is snarling about tearing out the heart of a foul witch.
2: Or, Juleka tells Chloe to stop, as in the firm, clear commands and Chloe does, but tries not to and is just like, clearly struggling, cos she can't do what Juleka says and make mommy happy, but she can't ignore Juleka and-
She kind of nearly starts disintegrating on the spot as she tries to find a solution and is basically half escorted, half carried away by Juleka.
Whatever the case,
Style Queen happens, Chloe manages to reason herself & probably Juleka out of being dusted if she's close by or Juleka had otherwise left the room and wasn't hit.
Adrien's still out of the fight, but Marinette decides with Chat absent she needs fire power as well as stopping power & takes both tiger & bee!
Who ends up with wat how is still up in the air, cos again it could go many ways.
Like, she may still want Bee for Alya, but want to give Juleka the tiger to work out some of her anger. Or she may even be debating Chloe as she'd have adjusted a decent amount of her behavior at this stage, or at least some if Juleka told her to or helped her socialize, but maybe not.
It could go just like canon but two Miraculous boxes are lost, or only one, or Juleka finds one and trans forms to go fuck up Audrey or her office and possessions at a minimum, or Chloe is the one to find it. Or they both find one, possibly knowingly stealing said Miraculous is Juleka was with Chloe but not turned to dust like her.
Its fucked up Chloe's mother killed her, right? Like, she tried to several times & then did. She murdered her daughter.
Or Juleka manages to basically drag Chloe back to her place where one or both of them open Miraculous, hell, Marinette may not even go with the Bee if she thinks the Horse could get the job done!
There's so many options, but yeah, broad strokes, those are some vibes.
Also like, one one hand Juleka declaring Chloe as her girlfriend and in a protective manner, YES, o the other hand, that means the way they became official will always be when Audrey was tearing Chloe down and not a happier moment, NO!
So yeah, feels!
Also Chloe basically disintegrating cos of her ingrained penchant to listen and obey her loved one's to get them to love her lead to some kind of shut down or disassociation cos she can't please two people at once and like, she is such a fucking mess. Like a figurine made of glass with sharpened edges, cutting, difficult to hold, a work of art and exceptional presentation, but oh so breakable.
Ok fist pf all never apologize or asl for forgiveness when rambling!!!!(at least to me).
Second, I love this!!!!!! All of it!!!!!!!
Got that's such a good moment to actually bevome official!!!(well in a story at least, because loke you said that day won't be a happy memory)
Also I literally adore the second option, the one of chloe wanting to please both and just freezing, not knowing what to do and like taking a step forward and then a step back, like a broken toy or robot.
(And yeah juleka is going to murder audrey, or at least her akuma self, and it is very fucked that aidrey killed chloe)
As for the miraculous, yeah you can do so manu things depending on what ypu want to do or tell!!!!! It's amazing!!!!!! The potential is limitles!!!!
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
When the Stars Align
RegencyLark Part 1 | RegencyLark Part 2 | RegencyLark Part 3
She needs to find a husband. She came to the conclusion within an hour of Peeta’s return.
After she’d seen him, she’d wandered the streets aimlessly, unable to return to his home, for that’s what it was; his. She’s been living on Peeta’s charity these last two years, though that’s not entirely true. She’s been managing the estate in his absence which must count for something.
She’d only come to town this year for Primrose’s debut season, but now she’s glad of it. She’ll need to begin her search immediately, so she changes direction towards the Odair house to speak to Finnick on the matter.
~~~
As a child Katniss had assumed her life would always be an endless string of golden days; Her parents were hopelessly in love and she had the most perfect companion in her sweet little sister. Though they weren’t rich they lived comfortably and most importantly, they were happy. But then at eleven her father had died and she’d watched her mother die a slow and agonizing death from a broken heart. Their modest house was entailed to a distant cousin who was only fourteen himself with a mother and three siblings to support as well and Katniss’s days had faded to a dull gray hue while the Everdeen sisters had mourned their parents and struggled to adjust to their new lives.
Then her God-father, Lord Abernathy, had discovered their situation and invited them to live on his estate as his wards, and while their days had brightened to a rosier glow, Katniss could never forget the hollow look in her mother’s eyes in the weeks after her father’s death as she slipped away from them. Katniss would not allow that to happen to her. She knew she must marry one day, but she swore to herself that she’d never fall in love.
Luckily, she was friends with Finnick Odair; a staple of fashionable society and as such a collector of confidences. When she’d told him of her resolve, he’d been determined to assist her; To not love a husband was one thing, but to not respect him another.
An Earl was much more than the unexceptional daughter of an unknown gentleman could have expected, but they both had trusted Finnick’s judgment in the matter. He’d introduced them at a ball and though many found Graham Mellark’s reserve off-putting, she’d seen the practicality in the man who spoke directly to the purpose or not at all.
He’d called at Abernathy place the next morning where they’d shared tea in companionable silence and within the month they were married.
The first few weeks of their marriage, however, had been painfully awkward. Katniss might have begun to second guess her decision, had it not been for her new brother-in-law. Peeta began visiting frequently and seemed to always know just what to say to lighten the mood and put them both at ease. She realized she had never heard her husband’s laugh before his brother had visited. It had been Peeta who had given her hope that her marriage wasn’t a mistake, but beyond that, she’d enjoyed his company on its own merits. It wasn’t long before she had considered him among her closest acquaintances.
But then Graham had died and despite her careful planning and arranging she’d crumbled, because in the end, she had loved him in her own way. It wasn’t a desperate, wild, romantic love like her parents, but one born of familiarity, friendship, and mutual support.
Worse still, along the way she’d lost Peeta as well and although he’s returned in body, she will not allow herself to believe that they can ever be as they once were.
~~~
“I’m in need of a husband,” she announces as soon as the drawing room doors close behind her.
Finnick doesn’t seem surprised, appraising her over his cup of tea before speaking, “This is sudden.”
“Peeta- eh. The Earl of Bakerston has returned home.”
He nods his head, “then this seems an easy solution. You already hold the title, already live on the property and know the estate, you are both unattached, and last I saw, you are both mad for one another.”
She jerks back at his declaration, before she begins shaking her head, the force making her dizzy. “No. No, no, you are mistaken, we are friends… or we were friends… but that was long ago. I have not had a single word from him in two years!” She begins pacing the room and the words begin tumbling out, “oh Finnick, I don’t know what to do. He just… left. I know he had every right to do it. But oh, how I needed him. No, I am certain that he hates me. He would not have gone otherwise. Yes, he was mourning his brother, but so was I! Would it not have been natural for us to find solace in one another?”
“Only too natural and likely why he felt he must put distance between you two.”
Even in her grief she’d known how improper it was for her to ask Peeta to hold her as she’d fallen asleep. She’d asked too much of him. She was not his responsibility and making herself so had driven him away. She hazards a glance in Finnick’s direction to see if he knows the truth of it, but he’s wearing an impassive expression. She shakes her head before continuing, “And now he’s come back, to claim his dues, find his own countess and sire an heir. I have no legal right to any of it. I am at his whim, he could toss me out at a moment's notice. There’s no room for me in Bakerston any longer. Nor at Abernathy house.”
“He has told you this?”
“No, his arrival took me by surprise. I have yet to speak to him.” Oh, she was a coward.
“Ah, yes. That sounds correct.” She scowls at her friend but he waves a dismissive hand, “Sit down, lest you wear a hole in the rug.”
She sinks down on the sofa, “so will you help me?”
“Katniss, I am still not convinced my assistance is necessary. You really should speak to him. Unless you plan to uproot to Abernathy house in the interim, you’ll be sharing a home.”
She makes a distressed noise in the back of her throat. Surely he would take the Earl’s room right beside her own. The idea of sharing a wall feels… intimate. The act of an Earl and his Countess, not a man and his dowager burden. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Perhaps she could have her things moved down the hall?
“Katniss, I know your reasons for seeking an uncomplicated match the first time, but now that you’ve weathered the worst and come out the other side, would it not be better to take your time and marry for affection? You will not need my help for that.”
She rubs her temples. She was relying on his continued understanding on this front. She wonders when he’s become such a romantic.
He sighs , “well if you are determined, I will only ask that you speak to Peeta before I lend my services.”
It seems a fair enough price, she’ll have to speak to him sooner or later anyways, so she nods, “consider it done, but ready your recommendations, for I am certain I’ll be in need a husband before the season is through.”
#everlark fanfiction#regency!lark#when the stars align#now on ao3#no beta#let me know if there’s anything that doesn’t make sense#because I got over ambitious with how much info to try and cram in here#and now picture matchmaker Finnick#staging Katniss as the most eligible beard#just to prove a point#the sheer volume of flowers delivered to that house#all the men asking her to dance - annoying Katniss and driving Peeta mad
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Friends Call Me Richard
Poll Winner - Part I
Explicit Content (18+)
Tags: M/M, Workplace Romance, FWB, Humour, Awkward Encounters, Eventual Smut
Next Chapter
Read on AO3 here:
Summary: In a bid to improve his partnership (and secret intimate arrangement) with Detective Gavin Reed, RK900 embarks on a noble quest to spice things up. The solution? A new biocomponent.
Part I of an extremely silly three parter.
Word Count: 1.9K
Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @ladyj-pl @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway @moriahadi424 @unicorn4genocide @cptjh-arts
Debris was strewn across the apartment in all directions, a cataclysmic nuclear fallout of take out containers. The noxious fumes and festering contents only added feasibility to the dire assessment.
He had no idea how humans could endure such profound levels of squalor. If he were susceptible to disease, his current surroundings would be a cause for urgent concern. Despite this immunity, he still felt uncomfortable, with only one reason compelling him to tolerate any of it:
Detective Gavin Reed had been his work partner for five months, sixteen days, and 4.7 hours. Most recently, they had entered a physical relationship, although they refrained from attributing a label to it. If they were to do so, the most accurate descriptor would be an arrangement of convenience. A traditional romantic entanglement did not apply, nor did the colloquial term 'friends with benefits'.
Their affiliation failed to meet the required level of closeness—a connection the detective made clear he had no desire to foster. If his memory banks were serving correctly, he recalled the exact sentiments on the subject being: “I would rather do a swan dive into a wood chipper than make friends with a walking Alexa.”
In spite of this aversion, his attraction to the android had been unmistakable—with an interest in the contours of his posterior molding that went beyond idle curiosity. This, in turn, had presented a unique opportunity to bypass his relentless obstinance.
After extensive research into behavioural management, RK900 discovered that humans tended to be more agreeable following a sexual release. Once his patience with Reed's antics had thinned to an irreparable degree, he had taken the initiative to corner the man in the precinct lavatory and put his theory to the test.
The results had been exemplary, with Reed left in a complicit fugue state for the remainder of their shift.
Through repetition and carefully calculated variations to their encounters, the experiment proved an overwhelming success in adjusting his partner's behaviour. While far from a model citizen, he was a shadow of the belligerent monster that had been assigned to him.
This improvement was not to last. RK900 observed a recent relapse in their dynamic, manifested as a renewed resistance. While not overtly expressed, this resistance was evident in the man’s biological responses.
He no longer experienced the same respiratory spike when seeing the android unclothed, nor was he reaching the same rates of cardiovascular elevation. More concerning, it was also taking considerably longer for him to orgasm—despite the skill of the ‘Magic-Robo-Fingers’ he so frequently praised.
It was an unexpected and troubling change that RK900 felt compelled to investigate, lest they revert to a time where being drenched in a caffeinated beverage and gesticulated at obscenely was a customary greeting.
He hoped an appraisal of his partner's domicile might provide some much-needed insight into the reasons for his growing disinterest. When he had explained these intentions to RK800, he had been swiftly chided—informed that his plan constituted an invasion of Detective Reed’s privacy.
Really, that wasn't his intent.
He only wished to revitalise the man's enjoyment of their intimate activities so that their agreement might continue to be mutually beneficial. This, and they were nearing a breakthrough in a particularly burdensome murder inquiry, so a regression into old habits would prove inconvenient.
As it concerned his impending investigation of the human's bedroom, the android had no way of knowing what he was about to uncover. Should it be required, he would stringently defend his innocence on the matter.
That being said, the discovery would prove an invaluable insight.
Upon entering the bedroom, his partner’s vital signs indicated he was locked away in the adjoining room, with auditory cues suggesting he had entered the shower.
Based on data obtained from post-coital habits, the standard duration of this ritual was alarmingly low—anywhere between 2 and 6 minutes, with an average of 3.8. The strange wailing noises, which the Detective had previously identified as ‘singing’—despite failing to align with any known vocal practices—typically commenced a few seconds in.
This knowledge did not prove particularly useful. In the current scenario, there was no way of knowing how long the man had been screeching into the showerhead. If RK900 were to take advantage of the shrinking window of opportunity, he needed to act fast.
Following a preliminary scan of his surroundings, an item of interest presented itself: a laptop propped conspicuously amidst rumpled linen. It was a different model from the ones allotted by the DPD and was exceptionally poorly maintained. The plastic casing had been scratched and dented in several places, with the damage concealed haphazardly beneath a series of decals.
One of the stickers, which charmingly read, ‘If you're reading this, kiss my ass or crawl out of it,’ was partially overlapping the trackpad. This would be inhibiting the device's functionality, an issue he resolved to inform his partner of once he had finished washing.
An internal scan revealed the device’s battery had depleted to less than 5%—a baffling oversight, considering its power cable was a few centimetres away. RK900 retrieved the cord, plugging it into the charging port before his attention was captured by the still-active LCD display illuminated beneath the cracked glass.
He had hoped to use the device to investigate recent online searches or check for relevant information in personal chat logs.
Instead, he was unexpectedly accosted with a graphic still of a human male being mounted from behind by an HR400-model android. The human seemed quite pleased with the arrangement if his dilated pupils and gaping mouth were anything to go by.
RK900 felt his systems stall—initially from the shock that came with exposure to such gratuitous filth—but ultimately, from a grim realisation that slowly sunk in. One of his more pessimistic hypotheses had been confirmed.
Despite the positive reception received for all forty-seven recorded occurrences of intimate contact, it would appear the android's ‘magic fingers’ had extended to the limits of their reach.
If Reed had been sufficiently satisfied by his performance, he surely wouldn’t have felt the need to indulge in supplementary material. At the very least, not with the frequency indicated by his browsing history.
The RK900 was a rapidly exhausting novelty, one that had lost its appeal. This demanded that he become more innovative in his approach.
Once again, he would firmly defend his innocence if accused of any inappropriate conduct, but it was only logical to investigate further. Relying solely on a single image would limit the value of his discovery. For the sake of his ongoing research, it was vital he gather as much information as possible.
He placed his hand on the laptop, skin retracted, and resumed the paused clip.
What his previous scan had neglected to inform him was that the device's volume was on—set to near maximum. As the figures on the screen began to move, they did so with loud and overly enthusiastic vocal accompaniment:
Ugh, fuck me harder, Daddy!
That's it—shit—who's a naughty boy? Such a good little slut for me.
It was after the Traci had struck their co-star firmly across the buttocks that RK900 thought it best to pause the video. His attention darted to the locked confines of the bathroom, where the warbled frequency of Detective Reed's ‘singing’ continued without interruption.
The sound of rushing water had effectively masked the unsavoury noises. This was a tremendous relief to the android, allowing him to continue his current work unimpeded.
He had retained enough information from the laptop to no longer be bound by its interface. After uploading the video data and mining directories from the man’s online searches, he sat on the edge of the bed to review the findings.
With hands clasped neatly in his lap, he calmly observed as his HUD was flooded with a plethora of obscene audiovisual stimuli. It filled his optics corner to corner, dulling his sensory inputs to anything else as the expansive catalogue of material began to run concurrently.
He was undoubtedly impressed by the physical prowess being showcased. He had not been aware humans were capable of contorting themselves in such a manner. They also proved more resilient than his prognostics suggested, with one performer seeming capable of withstanding terminal velocities that would likely reduce a poorly maintained android to scraps.
The whole experience was oddly mesmerising, and the longer it proceeded, the more enraptured the android found himself. He leaned forward, watching keenly, as one video in particular demanded his attention. It depicted a man in a bedazzled cowboy hat and matching chaps bent over a balcony as he was flogged repeatedly with a novelty lasso.
This was not the intended use for the item. The decision to host these activities across a guard rail also seemed strange, not to mention hazardous.
Despite the adverse conditions, the human seemed enthralled. His face flushed a luminous hue matching his headwear, and he responded to the pummelling with frequent encouragement, including requests he be struck harder.
A proposal that defied any semblance of logic, leaving the android bewildered.
Despite the continual shift in settings and acts being showcased (some more bizarre than others), one feature remained consistent across the videos—visible in nearly all shots, used to significant practical and visual effect.
The more dominant party in attendance, whether android or human, always possessed a phallus.
A reasoned assumption could be drawn from this that its presence formed part of the detective’s viewing enjoyment and was a feature he might appreciate equipped to intimate partners.
RK900 glanced down at his work slacks, specifically the concealed bump of his groinal plate, feeling disconcerted. Reed desired gratification that his default anatomy was not purposed for—an emergent obstacle in their relationship that required addressing.
After a brief computational stage, the steps required to overcome this dilemma soon became obvious. Detective Reed might have wanted this for quite some time. An implicit desire, discreetly communicated through the designation he'd assigned to the android…
With a new Primary Directive determined, RK900 stood from the bed and went to knock on the bathroom door. This action became redundant as the portal swung open, bringing him face-to-face with his partner.
Drying his hair, he discordantly hummed what resembled the closing riff of Wonderwall by Oasis. The moment of tranquillity halted upon opening his eyes.
“ What the —”
Evidently, the android's presence had come as a surprise as the man stumbled back, staggering haplessly on sodden tiles. The towel fastened around his waist had ridden down slightly, which he yanked back into place with a self-conscious grimace.
“Richard? How the fuck did you get in here?”
“A 5-lever mortice deadlock secures your apartment. It is relatively easy to bypass.” RK900 evenly explained, unsure what had inspired the human's sudden insecurity. He had seen him naked countless times and in far more compromising positions. “Also, the deactivation code for the burglar alarm is set to your date of birth.”
“...Okay, so, why the fuck are you here?”
“That isn't important, Detective. I have decided to acquire a penis.”
#gavin reed x rk900#dbh#reed900#detroit become human#dbh nines#dbh gavin#dbh rk900#dbh fanfiction#dbh fanfic#gavin900#gavin x nines#gavin x rk900
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Owlcatober Day 27: Portrait
Daeran, as pleased by Mix and Sal. A Lestat reference as well because of course.
Art by @dmagedgoods! 🤭 You capture Mix so well and I must specifically commend his nose in this one of course.
"I cannot imagine that he even attempted to capture your teasing smile, your casually elegant demeanor, or even the proper tone of your hair," Salvadore hummed quietly, appraising a bust sized portrait that he had commissioned of the three of them. He stood beside Daeran, with his arms crossed as he scrutinized the work that had been delivered that morning, just in time for the celebration. It had been intended to portray the three of them as seen through Salvadore's eyes.
"Nor did that wretched excuse for an artist make any successful attempt to capture my temptuous gaze," Daeran scoffed, as scandalized as Salvadore but more dramatic, as he always was, shaking his head in disapproval. He had spent so long curating the way he presented himself that he expected an accomplished artist to at least come close to capturing it.
Salvadore nodded along, the two of them riling each other up in their own ways, as they critiqued the comissioned portrait together.
"My wings. What has he done to them? That color could not pass for 'white' even without a single source of light to reveal their obvious yellow tint," Salvadore's voice raised slowly and steadily as his patience bled away just barely, only noticeable to a small group of people to which Daeran belonged. "What a waste."
Daeran glanced over, having noticed his tone shift a bit angrier than he had expected it to. A devious and chuffed demeanor took over the oracle's soft features as he held his gaze meaningfully on a fully distracted Salvadore.
"Then we are decided," his hand waved in the air with a sense of finality, as if to wash away the offending paint strokes with his fingers, "we shall have this pitiful thing hidden in the basement posthaste so that at least Mesclavete never sees it, the lucky bastard." Daeran smiled at his solution, considering the luck he had that Salvadore didn't like the results either, as he really hated how he looked.
Salvadore's chin cocked and his eyebrow raised as he considered the option, still scrutinizing the portrait, as if consuming it as fuel - angry, demanding more somehow. Then both of them startled, interrupted -
"Why would you ever want to do that?"
The casually curious voice came from behind them as Mix approached slowly, his footsteps so light that neither of them noticed him until too late. But it was he who quickly noted the disappointment in the small room.
Salvadore's face flashed disdain and embarrassment, as if he had been caught red handed, his normally cool exterior under threat for a brief moment. The shame of his own failure to commission a perfect portrait already haunting him. A quiet sigh of exasperation escaped his lips as any hope of Daeran's solution faded away, bringing back his frustration, just as he was ready to enact the plan.
"Just look at it, Mes. This is the portrait I commissioned for you, for our home." Daeran rolled his eyes as Salvadore explained his vision. "Imagine traveling for months to visit us, only to be met with mediocre 'art' such as this on our walls. We look like mannequins. We owe our guests a much higher standard." The two knew that whenever Salvadore shortened their names, he was losing himself. The man turned and grabbed one of each of their hands, holding them together before himself. "And I owe *you* better," Salvadore added, in his calm words.
"I couldn't begin to guess what has gotten into our artists as of late. It's as if Sosiel's ridiculous Family Friendly Artists of The Wound club has distracted them from their true work - serving *us*." Mix couldn't help but chuckle at Daeran's commentary. It was true. Sosiel might be a wonderful artist himself, but he wasn't anything of an artistic mentor, and Mix and Daeran would never forgive him for refusing to draw the beautiful Aasimar in the nude.
Then Mix drew his attention back to his goal, sighed, and tried not to roll his eyes visibly. He had planned to retrieve his two snooty lovers for a romantic stroll, but resigned quickly that solving this issue took precedence.
He walked forward and drew a decorative dagger, fittingly dramatic for this act, and cut the painting out from the frame. The other two watched in horror as Mix collapsed the canvas between his palms then leaned in and took a bite out of it. Chewing the piece of painted canvas dramatically, he ripped the rest of it to shreds and, by the time he was finished, Daeran had a mischievous smile on his face and Salvadore's eyebrows were raised, exposing a sparkle in his eye. His solution much more dramatic than the one the other two had planned to enact.
Mix smiled, pleased with the results, and swallowed. They both looked so beautiful with little sparks of relief in their faces. Daeran even chuckled, bringing a smile to the faces of the other two as well. Mix loved solving problems for them.
His back now against the defaced frame, Mix gasped in feigned scandal when Sal then Daeran grabbed each other's hands and stepped closer to Mix. The nerves in his neck ignited as Daeran's lips landed on it, savoring the taste of him indulgently, sucking and pulling on his skin, teeth almost tearing at his flesh but not breaking skin. He was ot gentle
"You taste like paint, Mescalvete," Salvadore's quiet purr carried admiration as his lips enunciated against Mix's, having not pulled away after kissing him once, chastely. Sal's brow now feigned disapproval before he grabbed Mix's nape, pulling his head back and bending his neck. Simultaneously, Daeran pulled Mix's hips closer to himself and took his turn with Mix's lips.
Mix's eyes closed as he enjoyed both of their affections, chuckling. His mind almost ready to call his sidequest a success as Salvadore began migrating from his lips to his clavicle, peppering kisses along the way. Mix had to say one last thing before letting out a moan of approval and relaxing his muscles, letting Daeran pin his shoulders to the wall.
"I know the perfect curator to help us find an artist for our style. I will send for her tomo-" Daeran and Salvadore bit down on either side of his neck at the same time, making his breath catch midword. They both smiled against his flesh in response, satisfied with repaying him for their startle earlier. Their fingers on Mix's stomach intertwined in each other as their unoccupied hands simultaneously pressed into the seam on his hips and slid it down.
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
You’re Not Like The Regulars [Part 2]
pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x reader
summary: on the night his father’s health fails him, Aegon prepares the leave with the woman from the street of silk he has fallen in love with. as he leaves the Red Keep he runs into the last person he wants to see and he will not be soon to see them again. He can almost forget him as the years passed and a life with children was made with you, until someone arrives on your doorstep ten years later (5.3k)
warnings/notes: no major warnings, king!Aemond, greens win au where aegon gets on that ship, read part one here!
That night when he went to the castle to bring precious belongings and some finery he could trade for coin for his new life, Aegon had seen Aemond.
“It is unlike you to be in the castle this late brother,” Aemond said casually from the wall he leaned against as he lurked in the darkness.
Aegon was frozen in the moment, the bag heavy with belongings he would sell. Turning around he looked at his younger brother wearily.
“Going somewhere?” Aemond asked, eyes looking to the bag then back to Aegon.
The silence was thick but Aegon had enough sense to know he could not outrun Aemond should he choose to keep him here.
“Nothing to say?” Aemond asked, amused. “That is a first.”
The truth seemed the right thing for once. Aemond knew it already.
“I am leaving on a ship to Essos.”
Aemond appraised him in silence. “Why would you do that?”
“Father will be dead soon,” Aegon told him bluntly. “Any day now I’d say. Do you really think I want to be King? Do you think I should be King?”
His brother hummed, an answer in itself. “You never did care about your duty.”
Aegon briefly thought of his love who was packing to leave and wondered if his brother would stop him. He wondered what he might say to convince him to let him go.
“You know I would be a terrible king,” he sought his brother’s eye that connected with his. The brothers who had more contempt for each other as the years had passed considered each other in silence. “But you would not.”
Aegon did not know much and had been doubted by his family for his entire life for reasons that he had caused. But he knew what Aemond wanted, what Aegon had been given but never wished for.
“You know it should be you who will get our father’s throne. So take it.”
Aegon knew that Aemond was considering it but when had Aemond ever taken something easily?
“Why do you want to leave?” Aemond posed a different question than he had before.
For another time that night, the truth seemed to be the only solution.
“There’s a woman that I love,” he admitted. “I desire her beyond lust. She is meant to be mine and already has my heart. I am going to leave with her, Aemond.”
“You fell in love with a woman from the street of silk?”
Only his brother would not say the word whore. Aegon nodded.
“I have never known you to lay with a woman so dearly.”
Aemond’s words were menacing. “It is not like that,” Aegon told him tersely. Suddenly he sounded like Aemond and he hated it. So dignified, so stiff, everything he had never been. “She has made a man out of me and does not even realize it.”
And he wasn’t talking about the fact that they had laid together so many times. Aemond did not know sometimes he would just lay in bed with her as she stroked his hair, tangled limbs without seeking pleasure. Her company had always been grounding and enough for him.
“Let me leave Aemond and you will see the back of me, never to be found again. I swear it.”
The younger considered the elder, biting the inside of his cheek with thought. “Come with me,” he said, not waiting before turning on his heel and going to his chambers.
Aegon followed him without thinking about it.
He felt awkward in Aemond's rooms that were just as grand as his were, though undoubtedly cleaner. Books neatly stacked on a shelf and a sword hanging besides his bed. Typical, Aegon thought.
This could be a king’s room.
Aemond was purposeful as he went to one of his draws taking out some objects. Some jewels, fine silvers and golds, before striding over to Aegon.
He tugged the bag from Aegon’s hands, opening it and without saying a word, looked into it. Humming, he sounded pleased as he unceremoniously dumped the finery in his hands into the bag before closing it again.
“That will be enough for a modest home and to start a new life in the free cities, brother.”
Aegon stared at his brother. He had expected to fight him, tear at him even if it meant he would lose whatever battle would occur between them, but never had he expected generosity.
“Leave through the hidden passage, I trust you are well acquainted with it,” Aemond instructed. “Many of the guards are outside father’s rooms on the other side of the castle after his poor health tonight. You should leave soon, dawn will be here in a few hours.”
Aegon nodded. He had the urge to do something for his brother he never had before.
“Thank you, brother.”
It was not the first time he should have thanked him. Better late than never, he supposed.
A nod from Aemond was the only acknowledgement. He would take it.
Turning to leave he moved to look at his younger brother and tilted his head down, out of respect. It was akin to a bow to a king.
“Be a better king than I would have been, Aemond. Be better than our father.”
One last look between brothers was all they had before Aegon left. For the first time he found himself missing his brother.
That late night he had found himself at the docks of King’s Landing with you in common clothes to not draw suspicion. His hair had been shaved and no one could see his Targaryen hair thank the Gods. He was glad to be rid of it.
When you got to Essos he could grow it back. No one would care about a Targaryen in Essos as he knew another was there already. He was thankful for your hand in his the entire voyage. It was the one thing that grounded him.
He thought of the small home you could fill with children, the wedding in front of a Septon pledging yourself to each other, the endless possibilities of happiness.
“Are you frightened?” you asked him on the ship. With his shaved head and common clothes, he blended into everyone else on this ship. Your hands were holding his arms as you stood on the deck, watching Westeros disappear into the night.
The land finally disappeared from his view and all left of his old life, his family and duty disappeared too. “No,” he told you in a whisper. He looks at you for the first time in what feels like nights but might have been only some minutes. Again, he thinks of the future, the humble home, the freedom, the family he wanted. “I want to make you my wife on this ship,” he says without thinking.
You smile. “With who for our witness, my love?” you tease, though you want it too. “And where is the Septon to hold the cloth over our arms while we make our solemn vowels?”
He faces you now, turning away from the sea. “We have no need for a Septon, only one another,” he says and even now he looks desperate. You wonder if it will ever leave him, the desperation to know what he wants will never leave him. But then he is ripping off a piece of his cloak, holding his arm and waiting for you to do the same. You do.
He begins to wrap your joined hands in the woolen cloth. You look up at him and somehow understand what he will say.
Father
Smith.
Warrior.
Mother.
Maiden.
Crone.
Stranger.
The cloth is around your arms and as a light shower, a drizzle really, falls down on your cheeks, but when he leans down and kisses you, the feeling of raindrops kissing your skin do not faze you. The droplets fall past his hair that has been cut so short it seems to skid right past what is left of his silver hair.
None around you on the deck seem to notice the solemn vows you had just made. Any that do glance would only see a young man and woman embracing and foolishly being outside in the rain when they ought to be asleep. “Let us rest,” you whisper to him, tugging his hand to go with you under the deck where your meager bunk is.
The piece of cloth falls from your hands. Aegon puts it in his pocket, refusing to let it disappear from his possession.
* * * * * *
The home you found was a modest one. Small enough to be humble but with enough rooms for the children he had spoken of with you. After the first night spent in a modest inn, Aegon had left you only to return with an iron key. In your hands, he pressed the key of the home you would live in while you sat on the bed. Sitting on his knees before you, he whispered, “Marry me.” Not a question, not a demand, but you smiled before agreeing anyways, taking his head in your hands for a kiss.
“We said our vowels already,” you remind him after a kiss.
“The Gods know you are mine,” he tells you, “but I want men to recognize this too.”
You can hardly protest.
Everything compared to the Red Keep and luxury he grew up in appeared humble, but everything compared to the filth of Flea Bottom was something to be marveled at to your eyes. Both your pair of eyes who had seen to much, cruelty in both squander and luxury, made you see Volantis for what it might give you.
Soon, Volantis would recognize you as man and wife. You were commoners now and there was no grand ceremony, only an room and coins in the hand of a priestess.
Somehow, many things fell into your lap easily and Aegon had met the right people at pubs, falling into friendships with merchants and owners of bars. Being a wine merchant suited him while you redirected your efforts to lesser children. With a golden band on your finger that matched his and a stomach not yet growing with a child, life had gone on easily enough for you both. Aegon had his wine merchant business where he distributed fine wines between bar owners and wine makers. Before long he was climbing up the Essossi hierarchy, but even as his social standing grew in Volantis this was nothing the dynasty he had been born into. Then again with the wealth he brought in from being a merchant of the finest wines, he supposed he had a kingdom of his own.
Before long you were not only helping orphanages and running some of them, but had children of your own. Your modest home grew and Aegon had never realized that the home would fill up so quickly and with so many children in it, two daughters and a son. It was a home full of fine things and love, something neither of you had truly had before.
Your children did not have Targaryen names, because that would be too dangerous even in the safety of the Free Cities. Alia had been first and there had not been a babe that every cried so loudly and was as fierce. Daria had been after, coming before her twin brother Dario. They were all alike in coloring having your hair so different than Aegon’s silver tresses.
His has remained cut short, not just for the safety of not looking quite like a Targaryen but for the hot and dry weather Volantis boasted. Selfishly you were pleased they had his eyes. Purple eyes were not so strange in Volantis and they could not endanger themselves.
For many years yet they would not know that they could be dragonriders, but you and Aegon decided to protect them. In Westeros they would be bastards, nothing more than the children a Targaryen Prince had whelped off of a girl who worked in the Street of Silk. But in Volantis they had a mother and father who loved them and that was all. Dragons were the last thing on their minds.
Some days Aegon still lingered in the past as much as he would not want to ever return there. But many years ago when your Daria and Dario were babes in the cradle, the news had come: the war in Westeros had ended. Prince Daemon had died by Prince Aemond’s hand, Rhaenyra left imprisoned and eventually died in her cell. With Rhaenyra’s eldest sons dead and Aegon presumed dead, Aemond had been crowned in the Sept. Her younger sons were being raised in the Red Keep and King Aemond had made Aegon the younger his heir until he had children of his own, if the rumors were true. Prince Viserys would be his cupbearer. You would be lying if you rarely listened to these rumors, but it was only for Aegon’s sake as you knew he more eagerly listened for anything of his family.
Many years after your journey to Volantis, ten exactly, your routine and family had been set in stone. The balcony in your home at the back of the property was well used by Aegon who would sometimes look at the city and sea with a strange sense of melancholy.
“Do you miss him?” you asked him from where you both stood on the balcony overlooking the busy streets of Volantis and the water down below.
His fingers gripped yours as your hand came to rest at his side. Aegon brought your intertwined fingers to rest on his chest. “On occasion,” he admits with a trace of amusement. “He has been a good king, I have heard. Fair and strong, the words I hear, strange. Kinslayer he is called and fair in the same breath. And I will never see him again. I am uncertain if I would want to.”
“He knows you did your best,” you had whispered to him, a soft smile in his direction. “Now he has done his best as we all must.”
Still, Aegon looked across the city and the water, never looking at you and gripping your fingers all the same. “Come to bed, my love,” you urge. He complies, following you to your bedroom, his hand never leaving yours.
For the past years the news came in trickles: the war and the result of Aemond on the throne, Aemond’s marriage to a Baratheon lady, Rhaenyra’s youngest sons brought into the Red Keep not as prisoners but as the King’s heir and cupbearer, Dorne being brought into the seven kingdoms (though reasons are unknown), the children by Aemond’s lady wife, and many minor things that mean little to anyone who was not the elder brother of a king.
Aegon would have a slight melancholic expression on days where such news spread throughout the town, but your daughters and son never noted such news. All that mattered to them was what went on in the school they learned at, what they and their friends loved best at the moment, the newest treat Aegon had a habit of picking up from bakeries during the week, and so on. Theirs was a simple, joyful existence and Westeros was a world away.
Until today, it seemed. Aegon had gotten back from work of the day, but he had been tired as of late. A new shipment and another contract with an owner of several fine restaurants had him rising early this week and retiring late. So as the sun begun to set he had retreated somewhere within your home, perhaps attending to the twins while Alia was by your side as you prepared dinner.
You were cutting vegetables as she placed ingredients on the table, standing on her step stool, when a careful knock was heard against the door. “Cut these, why don’t you, my darling?” you ask her, smiling down and giving her braided hair an affection rub. She is eagerly cutting the carrots when you go to the door.
Evening visitors were not uncommon. On occasion, friends of Aegon through his business had come and over time your home been known to always have a plate for any friend of the family. Aegon’s oldest, most boisterous friend from Volantis rarely knocked and yet you could never begrudge him too much.
This is no friend on the other side of the door, you realize, but two strangers. An older man in a dark brown cape and hat with the darkest eyes and a tanned complexion is at the front, while another in a darker cape has his head bowed down, so you cannot see him at all. Feeling troubled, you look back inside and are relieved to see Alia still happily cutting carrots. “Gentlemen,” you address them wearily. “Is there something I can do for you?”
You expect the first man to answer you right away but he turns his head to the tall man behind him who nods. It is only then he addresses you. “This is a delicate matter, lady,” he says hesitantly, thinking over his next words. “Might we come inside? We are looking for someone.”
You stiffen. No one calls you lady, first of all, and you were not set upon letting strange men into your home unless you knew them. “I think not,” you tell him stiffly, holding the edge of the door. “Volantis is a large place, gentlemen. I doubt I would be any help.”
Your words hold a finality that has the first man glancing at the other again worriedly, opening his mouth to refute this. But you can hardly refuse as hands are tugging your skirts from besides you.
Alia has peeked out from behind the door. Oblivious to the tension, she smiles up at you. “Mama, I cut up the carrots. Are we going to cook? Should I get papa?”
Trying not to grimace at her intrusion, you lean down to whisper urgently, “Go to your father now.”
She crunched up her face. “But you said I could cook with you!” she protests, not letting you answer before she notices the two men. “Who are they? Are they eating with us?”
“No,” you begin to say firmly but like her father, you are no match for her persuasion.
“Why not?” she looks up at you before glancing at them. To you, she poorly conceals a whisper, “What wines have they bought? Father says the people he sells to dress finely, not like that.”
“Your father,” you remind her, brows raised as you fight to not looked peeved. “Go to him if you want to cook.”
Huffing, she turns away dramatically and stomps away to where Aegon will be, oblivious to everything you are in the midst of trying to discover. In your focus of Alia you had not noticed the tall man look up at last and were caught off guard yet again when you saw the eyepatch and what’s more, the peaking of silver hair from his hood.
As the air changes around you, the expression the first man wears changes too. The man with the eyepatch does not look at you, staring at the space where your daughter once was. He seems to be putting together a puzzle as he finally looks at you.
“Who are you?” you ask him directly, but he does not move a muscle. You hum in distaste before looking at the man with the tanned complexion. With a hand on your hip, you regard him coolly. “If he tells me his name, I will let you both into my home. If he says the name I’m thinking of then you could both have dinner at my table.”
“Lady, we came not to answer riddles,” the man says with a terse tone, but is not unkind. He moves to say something else, but the man with the eyepatch speaks first.
“I am Aemond,” he says so softly, you might not have heard it if he was not he you thought.
“Our children know nothing of their father’s birthright and their parent’s pasts,” you tell him quietly. “Best to keep it that way. Come in, I will begin making dinner. He will be on the balcony.”
Both men were silent as they walked in, the first one nodding in thanks and the one you know to be Prince Aemond, or rather King Aemond, followed behind silently.
Aemond walked in slowly as he took in your quarters. It was an organized clutter, warm and inviting, all proof of a loving family that resides here. He seemed curious more than anything else as he looked around at the cups of paint that had been living on the end of the long wooden table besides the kitchen. Aegon had gifted those to Daria for her sixth name day four moons ago and she had not stopped using them at the table since.
“I will stay with the lady while you go to him,” the other man said kindly, but with sterness, almost that of a father.
Aemond said nothing but hummed, perhaps in affirmation as he took off his hood, carefully placing the cape across a chair. He moved through the room quickly, walking out of your line of sight where Aegon would be on the balcony, most likely with Alia.
“Need not call me lady, ser,” you assumed his title with your gentle manner of speaking whilst cutting the meat into pieces for the stew. “Such niceties belong in Westeros.”
“You know I am a knight?” he asks, turning to you.
“Who else would accompany a King?” you simply ask him, placing the meat in a bowl above the stove. Reaching for the seasonings to be added to the stove, you turn from him. “I lived in King’s Landing all my life, albeit a different part of the world as Aegon. Knights are common things, Kingsguard fewer.”
He says nothing but his posture begins to relax. “Ser Criston Cole, my lady,” he says at last.
“Not a lady,” you remind him, a rueful smile peaking at your lips. Sprinkling the seasons in, followed by the addition of vegetables, you let your stew simmer. “Why have you traveled with the King to Volantis?”
The second question you gaze asks is what are you going to do to us?
You had heard tales of King Aemond, the brother of your husband before you left Westeros. Dutiful, envious Aemond, Aegon likened him as he often spoke of his distaste of his brother and how it was reciprocated well. Overtime, especially once you were in Essos the insults seemed to stop. Despite the brutality you had heard of over the war you both lef tbehind, this same Aemond had let him disappear, depositing many riches in his bag before letting Aegon leave. This Aemond had also killed their uncle to secure the throne against the elder half-sister that he had imprisoned. It was difficult to hate him.
Still, how does someone trust a person like this? You daughters and son were his nieces and nephew, but maybe he wanted to make sure his elder brother’s whore and offspring could not challenge him. It was an ugly question to ask yourself and here you are, thinking it all the same.
“The Dowager Queen Alicent has been despondent as of late,” he admits with reluctance, perhaps being sworn to secrecy.
“Her health fails her?” you immediately ask him, setting down the kitchen tools you had been washing. For all the trouble Alicent had given Aegon, you knew he loved his mother and had felt leaving her was the last time he would fail her.
“Not quite,” he says, “but the truth of what has happened has recently reached her ears. His Grace had confided in me ten years ago, swearing me to secrecy for no one to know Aegon’s fate, but he recently told her.”
You squint your eyes in confusion. “She implored her son to ensure Aegon is well,” he tells you. “Aegon was her first born and has aggrieved her most of his life, but a mother’s love is rarely rational. Aemond knew only that his brother came to Volantis with a woman he planned to wed. It was difficult to track him down until we traveled to some finer establishments.”
“Nicer pubs, you mean?” you snigger at that, leaning on the counter across from him. “You mean to tell me that he will not harm our children?”
“Never,” he said, looking offended almost.
“We disappeared for a reason,” you responded, shrugging. “The children cannot know who he is, who his brother is. They are too young. Alia loves to talk. I cannot risk her telling other children of her uncle who is a King.”
“I understand,” he says and as he does, Aegon comes into the room followed by his brother.
You would be as weary as Aegon’s eyes seemed to be if not for the way Alia trailed after him, curiously peering up at the tall man. Lacking all decorum, she opened her mouth, soon to ask another question. You doubt she had stopped since she saw him for the second time on the balcony.
“Why do you have an eyepatch?” she squinted at him. “Do you not like your eyecolor? Neither do I,” she huffed at that before beginning to tell him about how her one eye was lovely, the perfect shade fo the palest lilac, but the other was greyish green, which she hated. “I would cover up mine too if I could.”
“Alia, enough,” Aegon said, though affectionately, as he place a hand on her head.
“What?” she protested, looking up at her father. “I would! Green is a stupid color, I have half a murky lake in one eye while Dario and Dario have lovely eyes. The Gods are cruel to me alone.”
“She is often dramatic like this I am afraid,” Aegon says, smiling at her.
“She gets it from her father,” you muse, urging Alia to come to you. “Come, let us cook. Your father has much to talk about without you getting every word in.”
Huffing at your words, Alia follows you nonetheless. As she stirs the pot happily, you can barely hear the words being shared.
“She sounds ill to me,” Aegon says, looking at Aemond with strangely narrowed eyes. “How long as she been so melancholic?”
“Do not pretend you are the one who has been dealing with matters of the family instead of fleeing,” Aemond replies and though Ser Coles opens his mouth to buffer this, the two men are too quick.
“If you came all this way to tell me how I failed the family speak not,” Aegon hisses at him. “There was nothing for me there.”
“Your family was not enough?” Aemond replies, though it is obvious this is not how the conversation had been meant to go.
“Do not act as though I had ever been help to our family. It is you who kept mother and Helaena together these years.”
Aemond cannot disagree with Aegon this once. “She worries for you,” he admits after a long while. “I promised her I would go with Cole to see you, so she might be content knowing you are fine, or perhaps dead in a ditch.”
Aegon coughs a laugh. “Neither are true,” he tells Aemond. “I am neither dead in a ditch or fine. I have a family. Tell mother she has additional grandchildren, a girl of eight and twins, a boy and a girl of five. Tell her that her eldest sons affinity for wine has served him well.”
“I will not,” Aemond says snidely, though a small laugh that is but a huff of breath escapes him. You do not know him but you know this is a rare thing. The air seems to relax as you glance at them. “I will tell her you have made your place as a prosperous merchant, nothing more. The mention of honeyed wine might have her on bedrest for a week, I fear.”
Aegon laughs this time and it is louder, easier than when it came from Aemond. “I would not dream of it,” he smiles with ease. After a long moment of pause he asks, “Helaena?”
He does not need ot say more as Aemond tips his head down slightly, smiling so faintly you barely noticed it. “Married to the Prince Qoren of Dorne,” he finally tells Aegon. At last, he leans back in the chair they had been sat near. “Princess Arianne of Dorne is quite fond of her good sister. Helaena’s presence made the negotiations of peace easier before talk of marriage alliances even began. Dearest Helaena intrigued the Princess and before long Qoren Martell was besotted. They too have twins, a boy and a girl.”
You never understood what people meant when they said how the weight of one’s shoulders could be lifted but you had seen it as you left Westeros behind, entered your home for the first time, and when Aegon had held Alia for the first time. Still, it has never been more powerful than when Aemond told Aegon of his sister’s happiness.
“Good,” he says, the word sounding like he was short for breath. “That is good news,” he adds on, his breath sounding sparse. Without catching his eye you smile and turn back to Alia who merrily stirs the stew.
She peers up at you, smiling eagerly as you whisper assurances and praises of her cooking. “Who is that?” she asks again, this time truly whispering as she glances at the three men.
“Old friends of your father’s,” you say easily, the lie too natural. She nods after a moment, knowing there is more but not asking.
One day you can tell her without the flurry of questions that will follow about her father’s younger brother and the knight sworn to protect them as boys and men. One day you can tell her about the dragons they rode as boys, the home her father had grown up in full of exceeding opulence that did not fill a hole in his heart. You can tell her about how her father fell into the arms of a woman and found more than she was meant to give him, but took it anyway. You could tell her about how he fell in love with someone he shouldn’t have but fled from him family and duties for her; For you.
There is a lesson in there for her ears to hear once she was older. A lesson about love, sacrifice, how happiness is not so simple and easy to achieve.
A lesson about how two brothers you loathed each other as boys still loved another in a strange way. About how one left so the other could have what he was not meant to bear. How the younger went across the sea to make sure his brother was well. These lessons were there, but you would not tell her. Not yet, anyway.
Trying not to easedrop, you watch as Alia finishes the meal and before long you are pouring it into the bowls. A fine wine, one of the ones for special occasions is brought out and the four adults drink it as your children drink water. Daria sits at the table with her brother and sister, but like her elder sister she cannot stop from looking to the man who is her uncle. She shows him the paintings she has made after the meal, laying them across the table. Aemond smiles, compliments her in a softer tone. Daria does not know he is her uncle or that he is a King. He is simply an old friend of her father’s, one that is kind and somber and listens to her and her brother babble away.
In the midst of it all your eyes meet Aegon’s and you smile too, because it is not easy, nothing is. But his brother is here and the melancholy has left Aegon for a moment. Your children do not know what this means to him and even if the brother’s cannot say it to one another, you know that this visit was not for their mother, but for Aemond himself.
* * * * * *
note: any feedback and reblogs are appreciated for this writer!!! also, might have to add another part to this at some point who knows
#aegon x reader#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii x reader#aegon imagine#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen x y/n
316 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hotch watches as she appraises the chocolate bar in her hand, her eyes flitting between it and her mug before she shrugs, breaks off a piece of the chocolate, and promptly drops it into the coffee.
“Really?” The words slip from his mouth before he could stop them.
Emily doesn’t spare him a second glance as she grabs a spoon and stirs her now chocolate tainted coffee. “Can’t make it worse than it already is,” she reasons, taking a cautious sip of her concoction before humming, “that’s not too bad, actually. You ever heard of mocha, Hotch?” She turns to him this time, smiling significantly brighter as she meets his slightly appalled gaze.
He can’t help but think her eyes are just the same shade of the coffee in both their mugs. Dark lashes, dark irises, dark pupils; endless pools of brown that swallow him whole. His throat goes dry.
She turns away and snaps another piece of the chocolate before dropping it into her mug. Hotch realizes he still hadn’t answered.
“I have, but I must say I’ve never seen it prepared like that.” He takes a sip of his own cocoa-less coffee, grateful for the bitterness when he sees Emily stir another piece of chocolate into hers.
He shudders slightly. “Well, you’ve got your solution. You have until 5, Prentiss,” he calls out as he finally turns away, realizing he wasted a lot more than his allotted five minute break.
“Sure thing, boss.” He hears the smile in her voice, and suddenly he wishes he could’ve stayed a bit more.
I’ve got this vague idea of hotchniss falling in love over cups of coffee (5+1, of course) but it’s supposed to be Emily-centric so idk how that’ll work…
#hotchniss#emily prentiss#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#aaron hotchner x emily prentiss#hotchniss fanfiction#aaron x emily
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
anyway i discovered the solution to my critique problem was to stop soliciting it from other artists and depend solely on my own appraisal of my work. at least i have some idea of what needs to be improved. im always going to be blind to what people on the outside looking in can see, but whatever. instead of trying to strong-arm it from people, i forgot i can simply stop desiring it
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
a simple agreement | kth
pairing: taehyung x f!reader trope/au: fake dating genre: mostly just fluff, slight comedy? rating: general (unless i add another chapter) warnings: mentions of drinking, taehyung's mother makes an appearance and i love her, reader is kind of snarky, taehyung is in over his head, it's just a fake dating trope because of taehyung's family word count: ~4.5k summary: taehyung comes from an incredibly wealthy family and hasn't ever given much thought to settling down. that is, until his father says he can't take his place at the head of the family business unless he's married. but maybe he's found the perfect solution. a/n: i wrote this initially for another fandom and have been having the absolute worst writer's block. so, i'm hoping this clears it up. initially i'd planned to carry the story on, so if you're interested in what happens next, let me know! it's also on ao3 here if that's your thing
“You okay, babe?”
The question broke through Taehyung’s daze as he stared out the window onto his parents’ estate. It was nothing but beautiful green grass all the way to the stables in the summer. Now it was blanketed in fresh snow. Growing up here had not been all bad, he reminded himself, and it wasn’t bad to be back here now.
He turned around to see you standing in the doorway, a perfect fit for this lifestyle of functions and charity work, a perfect fit for the Kim family. The weak winter sunlight streaming in the window caught your warm eyes, which were trained on him and looked softer than usual, at least for when the two of you were alone. Instinctively, you reached to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, forgetting you had pulled it half up and clipped it, keeping the long strands off your face. The long-sleeved cocktail dress complimented your figure perfectly while still being up to the Kim family standards for an event like this one. Even your heels were simple, all designed to be the perfect fixture on Taehyung’s arm for photographs without pulling too much focus.
By all accounts, you were beautiful, both inside and out, and it was something that Taehyung never failed to notice. When he had told his family you were officially together, they had been thrilled. Finally, it seemed their eldest child and only son had found someone he could be serious about. Finally, the papers would stop writing about the playboy heir to the Kim business. Finally, everything was falling back into the plans that the Kims had made for their son. You were poised, had gone to the proper schools, were a good conversationalist, well-read, a philanthropist, connected to the right society organizations. His mother took you shopping and to luncheons with all her friends, his father pulled him aside to express his approval.
Once the two of you separated from the parents and all the obligations, you would turn off parent mode and you were actually one of the only people Taehyung had ever been able to truly be himself around. You never judged him, never made him feel bad or guilty or anything. Somehow, he could unload things he had never said to anyone and you took it all in stride, staying by his side. On paper, you were perfect. There was only one problem.
None of it was real. From the moment it had started, the whole relationship had been fake. The two of you weren’t in love and never had been. Taehyung had needed a solution and you had been the perfect means to an end.
Taehyung finally pulled his eyes back to yours again and he forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine, darling.”
You stepped into the room and closed the door behind you, eyes still appraising his face. If you had one fault, it was this. There was no way he could ever hide what he was thinking from you. Nobody had ever been able to read him so well.
“We don’t have to go through with this, you know,” you said softly, watching him as the words came out.
“What other choice do I have?” His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly as he said it but he knew you would have seen. He looked away to buy himself a second.
“Go it alone?”
It was not the first time you had made the suggestion. Usually, when anyone else had said that to him, he just scoffed and dismissed it. There was just something different in the way you said it, though, as if you knew him well enough to say it from a concern for his happiness rather than anything else.
Taehyung sighed and with it tried to dispel some of the weight he was feeling. “I don’t care about the trust fund, I never have. But the business…”
Because that was the truth. He didn’t care if he lost out on his trust fund that stated he had to be married first. That had never mattered to him. But he did care about having a chance to make a difference in the business. The two had always been separate in his mind. Why should they be tied together? That was when Taehyung’s father had told him that he could not take over the business while unmarried, the investors and the board were all against it. According to them, it was at direct odds with everything the business stood for. That made Taehyung pause in a way nothing else had. Losing out on his trust was one thing, there were other ways to make money. He was not prepared to give up on the business without the fight of his life.
“I know.” Your voice was gentle, soothing, understanding.
“I can’t give it up when there’s still something I can do about it. I deserve the chance to leave my mark on it.”
“You also deserve the chance to fall in love, Tae.”
Again, there was nothing condescending or judgmental about the statement. There was only concern for him. Even though your entire romantic relationship had been a sham, there was a level of care between the two of you that neither had been expecting.
“I know,” he conceded.
Taehyung turned back toward the window and lost himself yet again. He let his mind drift back to when this had all started. Had anyone told him this is where he would be less than a year later, he would have asked if they were out of their minds.
It was another weekend of doing the exact same thing as Taehyung and his friends did any time there was something to celebrate, bar hopping around the city until they were so gone that they barely knew their own names. And nobody could come up with excuses to celebrate like the group of them, who had been friends since their boarding school days. Taehyung would also argue that nobody quite knew how to party like them and few people could keep up.
Although the night started like any other, you were different. Taehyung rarely worried about finding women on his nights out like this, partly because he did not want to generate another tabloid photograph for his parents to chastise him over that called him the city’s most eligible bachelor, and partly because none of the women were ever enough to hold his interest.
That night was different, though. You were different. When he noticed you on the other side of the bar, he immediately called a friend’s attention to you, not even noticing that you were also with a group of friends. But, you had noticed them, the second they had walked in, you later told Taehyung. It had been impossible to not notice them, what with all the commotion they had caused. Despite yourself, you later admitted that you had been amused by the sight of them.
As the night progressed, Taehyung had been compelled to try and speak to you, to use one of his fail-safe lines as he was quite drunk already. Was it even a good line? Had he delivered it correctly? He did not have those answers. What he did know was that nothing seemed to be working on the mystery woman you were. Instead, you wore an amused grin every time he approached you, which had likely been more than several times.
That was where the night went hazy. It was at that point that his mind had gone into protective mode to save him from remembering anything else that he had said or done. What his mind had not counted on, though, was that you would remind him the next morning.
Taehyung awoke to the unfamiliar smell of delicious food wafting into his bedroom from somewhere else in the apartment. Odd, he thought, as he lived alone and did not have any memory of bringing someone home the night before. As he shifted to go investigate the source of the smell, he noticed a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table. He reached for the bottle and caught sight of a note written in very elegant curling lettering.
Don’t take any more of these until 1 pm.
He frowned. It had crossed his mind that maybe some of his friends had crashed at his place last night since it had the extra space, was the nicest of any of their places. Taehyung was also pretty sure it was the closest to the last bar they had been at. But none of his friends had handwriting like that. So, the mystery continued.
Consulting the clock and finding that it was not actually after 1 pm yet, Taehyung stood up from the bed, waiting for the hangover to hit. Surprisingly, it did not seem that bad. Somehow he had managed to get into a pair of his pajama bottoms too, so maybe he had not been as drunk as he assumed. It was time to find out who the mysterious, cooking intruder was, and he braved the walk to the kitchen.
There were no words when he rounded the corner and saw a woman with her back to him, whisking eggs in a bowl, skillet on the stovetop beside her. Her hair was in a messy knot on top of her head and she wore a baggy t-shirt with a pair of what looked like his joggers that must have been rolled over several times to fit her. The whole scene already made zero sense to him when you turned around. That was when his stomach had really, truly, dropped. The girl from the bar. Parts of the night came flooding back.
“Morning sleepyhead,” you said cheerily.
Just as he was about to say something in response, the doorknob of the door to the flat turned and caused Taehyung to turn towards it with a sharp panic. Only one other person had a key to his apartment and would do something like this, dropping by unannounced, and incidentally, it was the last person that he would have wanted to walk in at that moment. There was no time to say anything to you, to tell you to hide, or explain why you ought not to be there. No, this was happening and he was in for it.
A well-to-do older woman with perfect skin and dark, almost black, hair pulled into a tight bun atop her head stepped cheerily over the doorstep. As always, she was immaculately dressed, with shoes and a handbag color matched to her outfit. Her eyes went to Taehyung first, a frown replacing the previous smile at his appearance. However, he was saved from the tut forming on her lips as she seemed to realize someone else was in the flat.
“Oh! Taehyung, I didn’t realize you would have company,” she said, throwing her son a glare as she looked at you in the kitchen.
Not missing a beat, you (Taehyung was calling you the beautiful mystery woman from the night before) smiled brightly and wiped your hands off, stepping forward.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Kim,” you said and gave your full name.
Taehyung was struck with several thoughts all at once. How did you know his surname? How did you know this was his mother? How had he not remembered such a pretty name? And most importantly, how was your voice so chipper and pleasant after a night out?
“You as well,” Mrs. Kim said, not bothering to offer her first name to you. “I hadn’t meant to intrude…”
“Oh, you’re really not. Several of us went out last night and Taehyung was kind enough to offer some of us to stay here to not have to head such a long way home. You’ve only barely missed Jimin and Jeonghan,” you said quickly but without a hint of untruth behind the words. “I couldn’t help myself, though. I wanted to make sure to leave some breakfast as thanks before heading out myself.”
“Jimin and Jeonghan were here as well? Such lovely young men,” Mrs. Kim said, softening a bit. “Did you have fun?”
“We did, and we were very careful to avoid anything that...well, you know,” you said, almost conspiratorially to the older woman.
What was happening? Taehyung wondered, not even for the first time, who this mystery of a woman that was completely charming his mother with no notice was.
“You should let this one come out with you more, Taehyung. She’s got a good head on her shoulders,” Mrs. Kim said to her son with a touch of affection and a larger hint of affection toward the stranger.
“Have you eaten? I haven’t put the eggs on yet, I can easily add more,” you said.
“Oh, I’m fine, but you’re very kind,” Mrs. Kim said. “No, I was just in the area and was going to twist his arm here to come to lunch with me, but I’ll take a raincheck. Maybe if I play my cards right, he’ll bring you along as well.”
“Mother,” Taehyung said, speaking up.
“Oh, he does speak,” Mrs. Kim tutted.
“You haven’t given me much chance,” Taehyung said and Mrs. Kim waved a hand dismissively.
“Don’t forget the function tomorrow night and don’t you dare bring that Jennie or whatever her name was, she was awful,” Mrs. Kim said and went to kiss her son’s cheek.
“That’s tomorrow?” Taehyung asked, clearly having forgotten.
“Yes, and you had better be on time with an appropriate date or so help me,” Mrs. Kim said before turning to you. “Say, what are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Mother,” Taehyung said again, warningly.
“What?” Mrs. Kim asked, feigning innocence.
“You can’t just invite someone to a function at the last minute and put her on the spot,” Taehyung said.
“Why not?” Mrs. Kim asked. There was no hint of embarrassment behind her words. She just existed in an entirely different world.
“For one it’s a Saturday night and she may have other plans, for a second thing, it’s incredibly short notice, and for a third, she may not have an evening gown just ready to go,” Taehyung said, cheeks going red at having to have this conversation in front of you.
“As it happens, I’m not busy tomorrow night and I do have several dresses in my closet that work for a function,” you said and Taehyung snapped his head to yours in complete shock.
“Lovely, I’ll see you both tomorrow then,” Mrs. Kim and headed out the door.
During his reflection on that first meeting, you had moved to stand beside him, not interrupting the silence that washed over the two of you. That was something he had appreciated from the beginning. While you were incredibly interesting to listen to and capable of holding a conversation on such a wide variety of topics, you were also just as happy to let the silence settle between the two of you. You were not like the other vapid society girls, unable to understand when their very existence was annoying. Then again, your existence was never annoying.
Glancing over at you, he found that you were also gazing out the window. As if feeling his gaze on you, you turned your face slightly to meet his, your eyes again hinting at depths most did not get to see with the public face you wore. The two of you were somewhat the same in that regard, both used to putting on a show when you were around groups of people.
“I was just thinking about the first time we met,” he confessed and saw the corners of your lips twitch up into a smirk.
“What you remember of it,” you responded, not missing a beat.
“I suppose I should be glad I don’t remember more,” he admitted and you laughed, a melodic sound that routinely brought smiles to those around you.
“I wish I’d recorded you,” you said and he chuckled at the thought.
“You should’ve, it would be worth quite a lot now to the right buyer,” he responded and you turned to face him fully, eyes alight with mischief and joy.
“Maybe I’m just pretending I haven’t recorded you and I’m saving it for the right moment,” you mused and he rolled his eyes.
“You’re exhausting,” Taehyung responded without any real bite and you smiled wide.
“Which is exactly why this works, because I challenge you,” you shot back and he sighed. You were right, again. Not that he liked to admit how often you were right. And not that you needed him to. It was one of the many unspoken truths.
“I suppose we’d better go join the party,” Taehyung said and adjusted his suit nervously before fumbling with the buttons on the jacket.
Your hands carefully brushed his out of the way and deftly fastened the jacket where he had been struggling. When you finished, you looked up into his eyes, studying him. “I meant what I said, you know.”
“About what?” Taehyung thought he knew, but he needed to hear you to say it one more time.
“About forgetting everything, calling the whole thing off.”
Taehyung studied you for a moment, trying to find a trace of annoyance or insincerity, but there was nothing there apart from the same care you had shown from nearly the beginning. He took a deep steadying breath and fixed a smile on his face.
“I’m still in if you are,” he said and turned to extend his arm.
“Course I am,” you agreed breezily and took his arm.
“Then let’s go.”
The pair of you left the room and descended downstairs to the party, eyes on you from the moment that the two of you appeared at the top of the stairs. It was a party to celebrate another year of Taehyung, after all. Almost immediately, he found his mother’s eyes and she smiled warmly at him. There was a small part of him that felt guilty about it all, worried that she would find out the whole relationship had been a lie from the moment she met you. His mother had grown fond of you almost immediately, as had every other person who met you.
His mother immediately came up and whisked you off to talk to another friend of hers about some function or other. Taehyung was honestly not listening, but his eyes followed you as you walked off anyway, catching the wink you threw back at him when you caught him watching. All he could think about was being nervous about what he was about to do. He had put the nerves down to not wanting anyone to realize that it was all fake and not considered any other possibility.
Before he knew it, and certainly before he was ready, Taehyung met your eyes across the room and saw you nod nearly imperceptibly. It was crazy to be nervous. The two of you had planned the whole thing out and Taehyung had practiced what he was going to say. Had practiced until he was completely sure and comfortable with how it was going to go. This was supposed to be the easy part. The hard part should have been convincing everyone that the two of you were in love, which had turned out to be surprisingly easy. Everywhere the two of you went, you both heard what a stunning couple you were, how lucky you both were to have found each other, how wonderful you both were to have around.
He stepped up to where the band had been playing but was now taking a break, grabbing hold of the microphone. It was traditional that he gave a speech to thank everyone for coming to celebrate his birthday. Nothing odd about this. He tapped the microphone and noticed how quickly the silence fell.
“Thank you all for coming to celebrate my birthday, it means a lot to see so many faces here tonight. Of course, the real thank you goes to my mother, who tirelessly planned such a wonderful event,” he said and paused to raise his glass to his mother. “I have to admit, I was not really looking forward to turning 27, I was kind of dreading it, actually. But then something happened that I never could have imagined.”
Exactly as the two of you planned, Taehyung found you in the crowd of people, standing right next to his mother, as you both agreed you should be. You gave him a dazzling smile and he felt immediately at ease again. It was just like you had told him. Focus on me, you had said, and pretend I’m the only one in the room.
“Then, I met one of the most beautiful, kind, intelligent women in the world. Her smile lights up every room she’s in and you can’t help but be happy in her presence. But, most importantly, as my mother will tell anyone that asks, she has no problem putting me in my place.”
There was laughter at this, just as you had assured him there would be. His mother was nodding along and gave you a smile. Taehyung made it seem as if he were taking a thoughtful pause.
“So, although we’re here celebrating my birthday, I hope you’ll indulge me in this,” Taehyung continued. “She’s been the most wonderful person to have by my side for the past nine months and I know it might seem like I’m moving fast, but someone once told me that when you know, you know.”
Here, Taehyung paused again to look over at his father. It came directly from a conversation the two men had before Taehyung had even met you. Using it here was showing that he had learned from his father.
“I’ve realized that I don’t actually know nearly as much as I thought I did, but what I do know is that I don’t want to learn with anyone else by my side. I don’t want to share adventures with anyone else. I don’t want to go through life without her for a single day,” Taehyung said as he stepped off the stage and moved through the parting crowd towards you and his parents. When he reached you, he withdrew a box. “My darling, will you marry me?”
You had a hand over your mouth as if you were in shock and Taehyung just gazed at you, showing nothing but the care he genuinely felt. This beautiful, kind, captivating woman had been the most supportive friend he had ever had and he had not even known you for a year.
Everything that he said in the speech was true. You were as beautiful as you were kind, as intelligent as were charming, and you challenged him in a way nobody had ever been able to challenge him before. This was the first time he could remember not getting bored of someone in a long time, possibly ever. When anyone else stood up to him, he would write them off. When you did it, however, he stopped and listened. There was value in what you said and you had a way of getting through to him even in his foulest of moods.
He watched as you brushed tears out of your eyes and was in awe of you yet again. How were you able to cry on command on top of everything else that you could do? Honestly, there seemed to be nothing that you were incapable of. It should have annoyed him and yet, there was no way to be annoyed with you.
“Yes,” you said, having pretended to compose yourself enough to answer. “Yes, Tae, of course I’ll marry you.”
Your always dazzling smile had gotten somehow brighter as you flung your arms around his neck and pressed your body against his. He realized that the two of you had not talked about what was going to happen once you said yes and there was a moment of panic. Of course, you had it covered though. You pulled away from him and placed your hands on either side of his face as you pressed your lips firmly against his. Instinct took over and he wound his arms around your waist more tightly, the box still in one hand, pressing you tightly against him. It was like he was on autopilot as he deepened the kiss. You, never missing a beat, matched him. Time stood still and Taehyung forgot that there were people all around until you gently placed your hands on his chest and pushed the two of you gently apart. At the same moment, Taehyung snapped back to reality and heard the applause all around the two of you.
In front of him, you smiled at him, eyes full of affection, as you held your hand out to him. Remembering that he had the box in his hand still, he slid the ring onto your outstretched finger. It fit perfectly, as he knew it would because you had already tried it on. He had wanted you to come with him to pick it out, but you reminded him that someone could see the two of you and it would spoil the plan. So he had taken a friend of his instead and picked out the most stunning ring he could imagine, knowing his mother’s approval was just as important.
The rest of the party seemed to fly by in a whirl of people congratulating him and wanting to see your ring. You, ever the perfect companion, showed off the ring and gushed along with whatever anyone was saying. To anyone that didn’t know you, you would have seemed just a vapid as every other woman that ran in these circles, only caring about superficial things. But, Taehyung did know you and he knew that you were just going along with the plan you both made. That was what made you an infinitely better person than he was. It only served to reaffirm what he had said after the function his mother had roped you into: you were too good for him.
While part of Taehyung was present in accepting the congratulations, another part of him was somewhere else entirely. The kiss consumed his thoughts. The two of you had never kissed, not like that at least. Any kisses had been quick pecks, usually on the cheek as was the custom in these social circles. Both of you had been very careful drawing up the lines and careful to not cross them. Both of you had agreed on that. This worked because things were not messy and the two of you had not gotten drunk and slept together, though Taehyung had considered it a time or two. Or ten, maybe, but who was counting?
She kissed you back, said a small voice in the back of his head. It was true. He knew that he had been the one to deepen the kiss. But you had gone along with it too. What Taehyung did not know, though, was if you were still playing the game or not. And more importantly, he did not know why it mattered so much to him if you were. This was all just a fake relationship, right?
#kvanity#btscarnivalnet#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts fanfic#bts x reader#taehyung fluff#taehyung x reader#taehyung x you#taehyung fic#taehyung imagine
189 notes
·
View notes