Tumgik
#i needed to make this for fic research purposes
rendy-a · 2 days
Note
amh if possible could hoy make hdcns for the dorm leaders ( separately ) reacting to their mc fem explaining the marvel universe and then puts them to watch the movies hehe ( ..also mc's fav hero is dead-pool ;) bc it gives me laugh imagine their reactions about this xd) , thanks in advance and take care<33
This certainly ended up being a little bit of a crack fic but it ended up amusing. Hope you enjoy it.
Tumblr media
At first, he scoffs as such a time-wasting thing as wanting to watch dozens of movies.  Where is the educational value in this?
He is just too polite to refuse to listen, so he’ll end up letting you describe all your favorite scenes to him.
You are better off if he doesn’t take an interest because, if he does, he is going to turn into the worst sort of comic book geek.  Be ready to have him quote lore from issues of source material at you during any discussion on this from now on.
What do you mean who would win?  In Volume 3 #3, Thor clearly defeated Iron Man.  Don’t get upset Prefect, I don’t write the lore, I just recite it.
Tumblr media
Doesn’t appear to be interested but, if you pause long enough, he’ll prompt you to go on.  It’s important to you, so he’ll try to care at least a little.
You’d never tell him this, but you love to banter with him because it reminds you of your favorite character.  Sometimes you wonder if he’d be pleased or offended to know who you remind him of.
Movie marathons?  Not only is he willing to do them with you, but he is also often the one who suggests them.  Don’t be deceived though, it’s not for the movie but for the quality nap time on the couch with you. 
Don’t turn that off, Herbivore, I’m watching it.  What do you mean I don’t know what’s going on?  This is the part where we learn her mom isn’t dead after all.  So quiet down and keep the lights off.
Tumblr media
Please, he is in Board Game Club with Idia. You think this is the first time he has hmmm’d himself through a conversation about fictional characters?
Wait, you say that this makes a ton of money?  Tell him more about this merchandising and licensing.  Especially that, what do you call it…ah, Happy Meal.
You can eventually talk him into watching the movies with you for ‘research purposes.’  When you do, you can’t help but notice how teary-eyed he gets at the sad scenes.  He’s just so sensitive!
Deadpool is also his favorite character.  He feels a sort of connection to certain parts of his story.
So, she chooses to stay with him even though he looks like that?  No, I’m not blubbering.  No, I don’t need you to cuddle with me.  Ok, fine.  Just for a little while. 
Tumblr media
He doesn’t get it, but he still loves it.  Sure, you have to explain everything to him three times, but he gets excited over your excitement.  Call him any time to talk about your theories on how things would have gone if Thanos had made a different wish on the infinity gauntlet.  He doesn’t mind if it’s 3 AM (just don’t let Jamil find out).
Movie marathons turn into parties.  Why just watch the movies when you can have themed snacks and dress up too?  Hulk smash cakes and Black Widow berry cobbler?  Yes, please.
His favorite part of any film is the soundtrack.  If he hears a song he likes, he gets up to dance along.  It’s pretty disruptive when you are watching the movie but when you see how much fun he is having, you find you don’t really mind after all.
Sorry Prefect, Jamil says we can’t have dance battles in Scarabia anymore.  Ooh!  But come by the Pop Music Club later.  I’m going to play all my favorite songs for Cater and Lilia. Ahaha!
Tumblr media
You were worried Vil would dismiss your favorite Marvel films as inferior art, but he is actually rather generous about it.  He believes the film should suit the audience and, as so, there is nothing wrong with films like this that serve to entertain the masses.
Still, he can’t help but be critical of everything while you watch.  He doesn’t criticize the things you’d talk about with your friends but topics you’d hardly even notice while you watched like the set design and lighting.
You notice Vil seems secretly fond of Loki.  You think the idea of the Villain that survives the main movies to get his own spotlight series appeals to him.
No, Potato, I’m just saying the angle isn’t right for this sort of tone.  A shot from below would be more effective.  Plus…wait, are you having more popcorn?  I don’t think so, it’s past the time you can snack before bed.
Tumblr media
You had expected Idia to be all in on the Marvel Universe but, at first, he is oddly resistant to it.  He’d rather recommend you one of his own favorite hero movies.  If you disagree on which is better, he is more than willing to fight with you over why his is best!
After a heated argument, he puts on some of the movies to watch so he can come up with targeted points about why his own shows are better.  This does not work out for him as he gets sucked in himself.  Next time you meet up, he wants to go over tiny bits of lore and speculate on future plot lines from hints in the past movies.
You might think his favorite would be Iron Man because they both are innovative engineers, but he is a fan of Ant Man.  Shrinking down to a size where you can hide from everyone; it’s an introvert’s dream!
Prefect, this is serious business!  I’ve drawn up plans.  So long as we sleep only 2 hours a day and avoid taking any breaks for food, studying, and showers, we can finish at least three seasons this weekend.  True fans like us need to be ready to sacrifice for the shows we love!
Tumblr media
There are many things Tusnotarou doesn’t understand, and this is one of them.  For starters, he barely knows how to use his smartphone, let alone how to stream movies and shows.  So, before you can even start explaining the plot, you must explain the whole concept of series and interconnecting shows to him.
He doesn’t get it, but he is happy to watch with you.  Your reactions to the show are far more amusing to him than the actual show.  Plus, he feels like he learns so much about the human world from your conversations.  A subway, how intriguing an idea.  Humans are so fascinating.
Even though he watches politely, he isn’t very impressed.  They can fly?  Well so can he.  Magic, lightning, superstrength?  All just part of being a dragon.  Perhaps instead of being interested in these superheroes, you’d rather learn more about him?
 Lilia, do you think I am a superhero?  The Prefect has been explaining this concept to me in great detail lately.  I can’t help but notice the many things I have in common with these so-called heroes.  Why yes, Lilia, now that you mention it, I am wearing a cape.  Another point in my favor. Fu fu fu.    
39 notes · View notes
astrhae · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"Again," Wylan said, and when Jesper opened his mouth to take another breath, Wylan leaned forward and kissed him.
SHADOW AND BONE SEASON 2 + a definitive guide to all wesper kisses
3K notes · View notes
feralthembo · 11 months
Text
*grabbing myself by the shoulders and shaking* it is NOT cringe to study up on a culture you dont belong to when youre writing something that takes place there. That is quite literally what youre supposed to do.
4 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Day 225, and a subtle update tonight! I made some adjustments to the shading on the metal, and then added shading on the... uh... the whatever-that-is. The grey part. Look, I don't know what I was drawing, I just drew it! XD
#the great artscapade of 2022#bobbi's being weird again#art#my art#friend oc#dozen years late christmas present#I did some writing today!#but mostly I was researching how different kinds of teas taste on their own#and also how to blend my own tea#which I will absolutely not be using for nefarious tea-having purposes >.>#is the tea relevant to the story? no not really. am I going to keep it in the next draft(s)? probably not XD#on the other hand now I know I need to try different kinds of oolong because I'd previously dismissed it as ''fruitloopy''#much like Earl Grey#but now! now I know!!! that oolong has a variety of flavor profiles depending on where it's grown and how it's dried/roasted/oxidated!!!!!!!#so I need to get my ass a whole bunch of oolong and see which ones I like#and then see what if anything I think I want to add to make a custom tea blend >.>#what I went with in the fic is a roasted oolong with a nutty flavor with orange and nutmeg and cinnamon#I want it#I want it in my belly#idk if it would work? I've never made my own tea blend before#but if it's anything like the chicken and tomato recipe I made up for the fic and then made it should be quite tasty!#god I miss having money so I could experiment in the kitchen without worrying about waste :|#sometimes I need leeway to fuck up a recipe! I don't have that!! I'm broke!!! GIVE ME MONEY DAMMIT#(not y'all y'all are good I'm yelling at the gubbment and also my employers)#(mostly my employers)#(they're an educational organization they should know better)#(bUt We HaVe To UsE tHe MoNeY fOr ThE cHiLdReNz!!! SO PAY YOUR EMPLOYEES BETTER AND YOU'LL GET BETTER EMPLOYEES FUNNY HOW THAT WORKS INNIT)#(YOU DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TEACHERS OR STAFF FOR THE FOUR NEW SCHOOLS YOU WANT TO OPEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD UP YOUR WAGES)#(I'm a little salty about this can't you tell?)#anyway this has been a tag rant lol oops XD
1 note · View note
ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 days
Text
Tumblr media
Cozened Indigo - Part Two
Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of murder, dark themes. Word count: ~4k
Summary: She gets her interview with Aemond, and Larys blows her cover. Series masterlist.
Author's note: For @humanpurposes. I have put my journalism degree to use here, to ensure as much accuracy as possible. However, as Westeros is a fictional place, I have warped certain laws and regulations regarding court reporting for the purpose of the story. Please suspend your disbelief for the sake of a fictional tale. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.
Aemond silently takes a seat, eyeing her carefully as she stands there, rooted to the spot. When she makes no move to do the same, he gives an impatient flick of his wrist, gesturing to the opposite side of the table. Startled out of her daze, she moves quickly, the chair legs scraping loudly against the hard, painted concrete as she pulls it out before sitting down.
His fingers drum slowly against the table top as he watches her place her notepad and pencil upon it.
“You haven’t brought a recording device,” he says.
It’s a statement, not a question, uttered by a voice that slices through the air like a hot knife through butter. Soft, yet possessing a sinister undertone that chills her to her core.
She wets her lips, glancing nervously at him before responding; “recording devices aren’t allowed.”
“They are on media visits.”
Sighing, she flips open her pad, tapping her pencil against the blank page. “The trial is in three weeks, there isn’t time to organise one, there’s too much red tape involved.”
“On a media visit, we would have privacy, our own visitation room. You could record our conversations instead of having to scribble to keep up with what I say.”
He sits back, his spine rigid against the plastic of the chair, and clasps his hands in front of him. She feels like she wants to scream in frustration, it doesn’t seem as though he’s even listening to her.
“We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet,” she tells him, attempting to change the topic in the hopes it will get him talking.
Aemond snorts derisively, though his eye does not reflect the upturn pull of his lips. “You know who I am, I know who you are. I don’t feel there’s any need, unless you’d like to exchange pleasantries? Shall we talk about the weather, perhaps?”
She chews her lip, considering her next words with caution. “You know my name, but you don’t know anything about me. Maybe you’d feel more at ease talking to me if I told you a little about myself?”
He leans forward and, reflexively, she pulls away, her back making a heavy impact with the hard backrest of the chair, as her pencil falls from her grasp onto the tabletop.
“I know you destroyed your career by publishing a story that glorified a criminal, without checking to see if your sources were credible. I’d say I know enough.”
She stares at him, wide-eyed, bile rising in her throat as her breathing grows erratic. She hadn’t anticipated him knowing about that, let alone bringing it up.
He chuckles drily, his posture relaxing as he leans back once more. “You’ve looked into me, dug around in my past, did you not think I’d do a little research of my own? I know all about you.”
“We’re…we’re not here to talk about me,” she stammers, attempting to compose herself as she snatches her pencil back up and sits up straight.
“I’m still deciding if I want to speak to you,” he admits with a shrug.
Her brow furrows in confusion as she narrows her eyes at him. “But you agreed to meet me?”
He gives a slight nod. “I agreed to meet you, yes. I didn’t agree to an interview.”
“Then why agree to see me? You’ve wasted my time.”
“I could say the same of you, waltzing in here, without even the decency to follow the appropriate media procedure, expecting me to spill my guts in front of a room full of rapists and murderers.”
“So you won’t speak to me?”
He pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue, appearing to think about her question, the silence feeling as though it could fill the vastness of an ocean.
“You seem…earnest,” he finally says, “get media visitation and you’ll have your interview.”
He slaps the flat of his hand against the top of the table, an indication that the conversation is at its end, and stands, walking slowly back over to the door he had entered through.
As the guard unlocks it, allowing him to leave, he casts one last look at her over his shoulder. It’s a pointed stare, one that lets her know that this isn’t up for debate. It’s no longer a question of if she can get a media visit, it’s when and how.
The moment she’s back on the ferry, she calls Larys, knowing that if anyone can acquire a media visit with any modicum of urgency it will be him. She is relieved when he picks up on the third ring, and she wastes no time in getting straight to the point.
“He won’t speak to me without a media visit.”
“Hello to you too,” he drawls.
She exhales heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. “The trial is in a few weeks, if I apply for it myself then it’ll take months. I need you to–”
Her phone beeps, the screen going black as her battery dies.
Fuck.
She had forgotten to switch it off before handing it to the guards, and the incoming emails and messages she’d received during her visit had drained it.
It’s evening by the time she gets home, the sun having set long ago on her journey from Dragonstone back to King’s Landing. Eagerly, she plugs her phone in to charge, restlessly tapping her foot as she waits for it to power back on.
Her heart skips, relief flooding her as the screen lights up and she is immediately met with a Whatsapp notification from Larys.
“Have been trying to reach you. Media visit is arranged for the day after tomorrow. Can you make it?”
With shaking fingers, she types back a reply, apologising, explaining her phone had died and confirming her availability. A few minutes later, he responds, telling her he will follow up with further information shortly.
It’s finally happening, she has her interview.
The following morning, her presence in the office feels like a mere farce to fill time, with no intention of starting the Flea Bottom piece, there is no real reason for her to be there, yet she has to keep up appearances until she has copy finalised for the story she actually intends to write. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission in this case.
She decides to fill her time with further background research and laying down the basic introduction for the piece, time is of the essence so it’s better to get a head start where she can. Less than ten minutes have passed when she hears the clearing of a throat behind her. Startled, she minimises her Word document and turns to see Royce looming over her.
“How’s the Flea Bottom piece coming along?” He asks, gesturing towards her computer monitor with his coffee mug.
“Oh…yeah,” she lies, with a tight smile, “making great progress with it, should have copy for you soon.”
He raises an eyebrow, looking at her incredulously, before taking a slow sip of coffee.
“Tell me then, if you are working on the Flea Bottom piece, what are you doing visiting Dragonstone Prison?”
Her face blanches as she stares up at him, her mouth running dry as she thinks of what to say. She has nothing.
“I–”
“My office. Now.”
He turns and strides back towards his small corner office, leaving the door ajar for her to follow.
It feels as though she is trudging through treacle as she makes her way across the newsroom, her heart pounding in her chest as she steps into the figurative lion’s den, expecting to be told her employment is terminated for openly defying a commission from not just her editor, but the editor of the Duskendale Gazette.
Sheepishly, she shuts the door behind her, pressing her back against the wood as her eyes raise to meet Royce’s, who sits behind his desk, visibly seething with annoyance. There’s no use in denying it, so she decides to get straight to the point.
“How did you find out?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper as she clasps her hands in front of her.
“Larys Strong left a voicemail on the office’s answering machine yesterday evening, confirming your media visit to the prison tomorrow.”
Shit. He must have called the office when he couldn’t get through to her mobile.
He continues before she has a chance to respond. “I’ve told you already, to leave that story alone. Were I a less understanding employer, I’d fire you for insubordination, but I’m willing to be reasonable. You’re to drop whatever it is you’re pursuing and continue with the story you’ve been assigned. Is that clear?”
She sighs, bowing her head momentarily, before stepping towards his desk. Her tone is imploring, her stare pleading as she looks at him. “Royce, Larys Strong is Aemond Targaryen’s legal representation. They’ve chosen me, us, the Duskendale Gazette over all publications to run an exposé on him ahead of the upcoming trial! There is something there, I know there is, you have to let me pursue this. Please!”
Royce groans in frustration, carding his fingers through his dark curls. “You know I can’t allow you to do this, you could be accused of media bias, influencing the jury. That’s not a risk a publication as small as this one can afford to take.”
“The article isn’t going to mention the trial, or the allegations being made. I intend for it to be a profile piece. Aemond has never spoken to the media before, he is incredibly private. This would be an exclusive, we’d be doing something no other newspaper or magazine has done before. It takes months to get a media visit, Larys has gotten me one in two days. It would be stupid to waste this opportunity.”
She takes another step forward, now standing directly behind the chair that occupies the opposite side of Royce’s desk, silently hoping she has said enough to convince him.
He sighs, shoulders sagging slightly, as he regards her with a look of resignation. “I’ll let you do it, but I have conditions.”
Her heart soars, her eyes widening hopefully as she nods enthusiastically. “Anything.”
“You won’t be reporting on the trial itself once it starts. And I want copy in two weeks.”
She recoils at this, given how stony Aemond had been on their first meeting, she knows it will be virtually impossible to get him to say enough to fulfill that sort of deadline. She had been hoping to push right up to the day before the trial began.
“Two weeks?! Royce, that’s not even enough time to get the interviews I’ll need!”
“I’m not taking the risk of being accused of influencing the jury,” he retorts. “Two weeks, or I’m tanking this, got it?”
“Got it,” she replies quietly, her previous elation withering and dying as quickly as it had burst to life.
Two weeks to get Aemond to open up. Two weeks to save her career.
The moment she is out of Royce’s office, she calls Larys, overwhelmed by annoyance at the trouble he has gotten her into and eager to give him a piece of her mind.
“You left a voicemail at my office,” she says irritably, when he eventually picks up.
He hums affirmatively into the receiver. “Well, your mobile was switched off.”
“You’ve gotten me into so much trouble with my boss, he almost pulled the plug on all of this!”
She hears him exhale slowly, pausing before responding. “But he hasn’t, so that’s a good thing.”
“I’m not allowed to report on the trial either, and I have to have the entire piece finished in two weeks.”
“Well, consider it a blessing. Minimal risk of media bias, you now have permission to write the story too. Wouldn’t it be a shame to go to all that effort to have it wasted at the eleventh hour, because your editor won’t approve it?”
Her eyes narrow, her voice lowering in an accusatory tone. “You did this deliberately, didn’t you?”
He lets out a quiet laugh that travels through the phone as a breathy sigh. “There is rarely anything I do that isn’t a calculated choice. I think you’ll find my actions have been mutually beneficial. Good luck with your visitation tomorrow.”
There is a click before the line goes dead. He’s hung up. 
She wants to be angry, but she knows he’s right. Without the need for secrecy, this piece will be far easier to write, even with an impossible deadline.
There is a marked difference between this morning’s visit to Dragonstone Prison and the one previous. As soon as she checks in at the ferry terminal, she is ushered towards her own private boat and transported across the Gullet. There is no wait time once she arrives and, though she is searched, she is allowed to keep her electronic devices with her.
The room she is led to is small; plain white walls and a white floor, with only a table and two chairs, the same as the ones in the visitation room, at the centre of it. The blinking red light of a CCTV camera placed in the top corner by the door catches her eye, reminding her of the profundity of her location.
Over the last couple of days, she has been distracted by the stress of Royce finding out what she has secretly been working on, and preparing for the interview, so much so that she has quite forgotten just how foreboding the presence of Aemond Targaryen is.
She is delivered a stark reminder as he is led into the room, clad in the same grey prison scrubs he’d been wearing on her first visit, his wrists handcuffed in front of him. It feels as though all the air leaves the compact space as he enters it. His posture is immutable as always, his head held high, and his gaze immediately fixes upon her, an unmistakable glint in his eye as he stares at her. She stares back, hoping she appears more impassive than she feels, but there is an underlying fear that if he really wanted to hurt her then there is little the cuffs he wears could do to stop him.
“Bang on the door if you need anything,” the guard tells her, breaking her out of her reverie, “you’ve got one hour.”
The fact that there will be someone stationed outside of the door helps her to relax a little and she decides that this time she won’t allow for him to have the upper hand, moving to take her seat before Aemond does, as the guard leaves, locking them both in.
She keeps her attention on the table in front of her, placing her dictaphone in the middle, as Aemond slips into the chair on the opposite side of it.
“How are you today?” She asks, keeping her tone casual as she fiddles with the settings of the recording device.
“Incarcerated,” he answers simply, his voice conveying no emotion.
She sighs, glancing up at him. “I went to the effort to get a media visit, as you requested, I hope you’re feeling a little more talkative today.”
“The effort that Larys went to,” he corrects her. “You seem to forget that you stand to gain something from this too.”
Biting back the heated retort she wants to make, she ignores his comment. “This will be a profile piece, we’re not going to talk about the upcoming trial, we don’t even need to talk about your nephew if you’d prefer not to.”
“A little hard to avoid that,” he says, lips quirking slightly. His cuffs give a metallic clink as he lifts his hands towards his face, tapping at the ragged scar on the left side of his face. “Luke is the reason I have this.”
Her lips part slightly, eyes widening in shock as she stares at him. “Lucerys did that to you?”
Aemond nods, lowering his hands into his lap. “When we were children. It was a petty squabble at a birthday party. I threw the first punch, but he lashed out with a knife, and I’ve been left with a permanent reminder of the fact.
An overwhelming surge of pity courses through her, her face softening as she looks at him. She wants to say something to comfort him, but he stops her before she has the opportunity.
“I don’t need your pity. It’s been fifteen years. Let’s just get on with the interview, time is running out.”
She clears her throat, shifting in her seat as her thumb presses down on the record button of her dictaphone. “Right, let’s start with your childhood.”
The hour vanishes into nothing as she asks Aemond probing questions about what he was like as a child, how his relationship with his family was and what his upbringing was like. A tale of fatherly neglect, of children living in the shadow of their older half sister unfolds as he tells her of how he grew up teased by his older brother, Aegon, and bullied by his nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys. The only members of his family that he ever received anything close to affection from were his mother and his sister, Helaena.
She pays rapt attention, her heart aches for him, though her sympathy comes in short lived bursts, as every time his knee accidentally grazes hers beneath the table, it chills her blood and causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh. At least she assumes it’s accidental.
They draw to a natural stopping point and she switches the recording device off. The one question she has never asked, that there has been a complete media black out in terms of details, is precisely how Aemond killed Lucerys. Her curiosity gets the better of her and the question passes her lips before she can stop herself.
“How did it happen?”
Aemond tenses, jaw clenching as he stares at her intently. He swallows thickly, then responds, “you mean how did I kill him? I trust that this is off the record?”
She nods, afraid that if she speaks she’ll scare him off of opening up to her.
“I lost control of my car, and I hit him. He died.”
There is no hint of remorse evident in his voice, he responds as though she has asked him for the time. She is struck by how matter of fact he is. Surely, if it was accidental then he’d show even a slither of emotion? Just as she’s about to question him further, the door swings open and the guard informs her that her time is up.
She has barely scratched the surface of Aemond Targaryen, she knows if she is to write a feature that is even half decent she’ll need more time with him. She is grateful that Larys informs her has managed to secure two further media visits, and over the following week she gets to know Aemond better - at least what he is willing to share with her.
He is intelligent, with a keen interest in history and philosophy. He does not share his brother’s love of socialite status, preferring to dedicate his time to reading and fitness. Unwavering in his loyalty to his family, he had taken up a position at his grandfather’s law firm up until the point of his arrest. Aemond Targaryen’s life is one that is shrouded in solitude and tragedy. Aemond embodies pieces of a broken antique vase; the idea of putting him back together is beautiful, but there is the inevitable risk of cutting yourself if you attempt to try.
She does not bring up the death of Lucerys again, telling herself it will be easier to get him to talk if they stick to subjects that don’t make him uncomfortable. However, deep down she knows that she hadn’t liked what she’d heard when she’d asked him the first time, she hadn’t enjoyed the way his response had made her feel. Better to avoid the fear than face it head on.
As their final interview comes to its end, she switches off the dictaphone, expecting a cordial and brief farewell, before the guard re-enters to take Aemond away once more. She is surprised when, after a moment of keeping his gaze fixed on his cuffed wrists that rest on the table in front of him, he looks up at her and asks; “will you be at the trial?”
She pauses momentarily, as she’s slipping her equipment back into her bag, taken aback by his question. “Oh…um…well, I’m not going to be covering it.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t sit in the public gallery.”
“Are you saying you want me to be there?”
Aemond gives a slight shrug. “You’ve come this far. May as well see it through to the end.”
He’s right, as he frustratingly always seems to be. She responds with a slight nod, moving to stand. She is unsure how exactly to bid him farewell, this is the last time she will ever be in such close proximity to him. Looking at how his wrists are shackled, she knows a hand shake would be inappropriate. She shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, deciding eventually to keep things formal.
“Well, Larys will provide you with the article once it’s published. Thank you for taking the time to speak to me.”
He grins wolfishly at this, staring up at her intently. “Thank you. I’m sure you’ll make me leap right off the page.”
His words stay with her, echoing in her mind long after she has left the prison. Though her time with Aemond is at its end, she knows his impact upon her is one that will last a lifetime. The intensity of his one eyed stare is forever burned into her mind, the lilt of his voice one that scratches at the recesses of her mind, and with the article still to write she knows she is far from free of him. While Aemond is quite literally imprisoned, he has her trapped in a cell of his own creation, one that she won’t be freed from until the words are on the page.
As she walks to the office, preparing to transcribe her interviews, her phone vibrates in her bag. Pulling it out she sees Larys’ name on her screen, and quickly presses to accept the call. She barely has time to greet him before he begins speaking, and she pushes a finger to her ear to better hear him over the sound of passing traffic.
“Have you got everything you need?” His tone is strained, an undercurrent of urgency in his voice that she’s never heard before.
“As far as my interviews with Aemond are concerned, yes. It would give a more well rounded piece if other members of the family were prepared to talk, but we’ve already established that that’s not an option.”
“Aegon and Helaena have agreed to speak with you,” he informs her quickly.
Her eyes widen in shock, and she ducks down a side street, shifting the phone to the other side of her head, wanting to give him her full attention. “Why the sudden change? What’s happened?”
“Rhaenyra has gotten wind of the fact that Aemond has spoken to the press, so now she’s doing an interview too – with White Knight Magazine.”
207 notes · View notes
applinsandoranges · 1 month
Text
CHANGE OF PLANS!!!
Originally, this was going to be a fic preview.
But as I continue writing this fic, I'm realizing it's going to be long.
So.
Multi-chapter it is.
It's gonna be angsty - we've had too much fluff recently.
With a typical happy applin end (happlin?)
Here's the start of an enemies-to-lovers fic for my beloved @skittish1807
Roughly ~2,000 words.
Next Chapter >>
Contempt (Part 1)
Summary: After coming to the bitter realization that everyone, Sebastian included, had used her and taken advantage of her abilities for their own gain, only to discard her when she no longer proved valuable, MC ventures off and away once she's finished with Hogwarts. Five years of seclusion and closing off in a bid to live for herself for once, she finds herself working a contract job for the Ministry. To make matters worse, the Curse Breaker joining her is the very last man on earth she wants to see.
Tumblr media
While researching ancient magic wasn't a particularly lucrative endeavor for a once-regaled hero, MC found herself fulfilled by her work nonetheless. With Fig's pilfered notes as a compass working in tandem with her own innate sense for the mysterious power, she'd managed to sniff out several locations and artifacts of interest in the five years since graduating Hogwarts.
Her journey proved rewarding - not-so-much in galleons, but in rich experience and the knowledge that she was living life purely for herself.
Thinking back on her school days, she'd been a fool.
Spineless, polite to a fault, and incapable of rejecting anyone if they showed so much as a modicum of desperation, she'd oftentimes wondered if there was a fifth Hogwarts House for doormats.
Now, however, she'd left it all behind in favor of better pursuits - she could be self-serving in isolation, and after everything she'd endured for the sake of others? A bit of selfishness was past due.
No more running errands for pleading peers who couldn't be arsed to lift a finger for themselves, or risking life and limb for wretched Slytherin boys who would sooner cast her aside like trash once she'd served her purpose.
She'd been a simpering idiot, allowing anyone and everyone to wield her like a tool.
And what happened when she was the one crying out for help? Alone in the Repository, broken and battered with the corpse of her mentor - she'd had to drag herself from the wreckage. No one sat with her through the nightmares and panic attacks that came after it all. Instead, she'd been banished to the Common Room by her grumbling roommates for disturbing their sleep too often with her screams.
The Undercroft? That, too, had become a place she was no longer welcome. Ominis's resentment after she'd sided with Sebastian one too many times had made it stifling to enter and risk running into him.
Then, there was Sebastian Sallow...
Bastard. Absolute fucking bastard.
For all that she'd done for his sake - risking detention, learning and enduring curses, covering up murder - he'd all but spat in her face by the end of it. Used her until she'd been drained of anything left to offer, and once his poorly constructed schemes failed to come to fruition, he'd cast her aside as well.
At first, when Sebastian adamantly insisted they were not, in fact, friends, she'd assumed it was due to his grief over Anne's death. Surely, it was only natural that he'd push everyone away.
But then she'd confronted him after months of suffering his avoidance.
Sebastian had not minced words that evening at the start of their sixth year, when he spelled it out quite clearly that no, they were not friends and never had been. That her fucked up magic was meant to help Anne, and with his twin's passing there was no longer a need to see her - that it made him physically ill to be in the same room.
She reminded him too much of his own failures and that she herself had failed him.
He questioned, then, how she'd been able to help everyone else but him and damned her for making his life irreparably worse since entering it.
The final kindness she ever offered him or anyone else after that conversation was residing quietly in her Room of Requirement for the remainder of school, only leaving to attend classes.
Perhaps he'd done her a favor, drilling it into her skull that the only reason anyone so much as spoke to some strange late-bloomer with a penchant for unpredictable magic and danger, was because she was useful.
Still, she hated them all the same. Hated him, especially.
Even thinking his name sent her into a spiraling rage there'd be no clawing her way back from unless it was through the aid of a bottle of firewhiskey, an extended session of blowing up innocent inanimate training dummies, and a night of reckless sex with whatever stranger she deigned to beckon into bed with her.
Unfortunately, she did not have the liberty of such things at present - there was no way to drown out venom-fueled memories in the frigid hellscape that was the Carpathians.
Because, as freeing as life had been to simply research and explore on her own, scribing freelance journals on a niche topic like ancient magic failed to net much tangible compensation, and her lifestyle did not pay the rent on most occasions.
So, she'd begrudgingly accepted a contract with the Ministry to guide one of their Curse Breakers through the mountainous terrain on the condition of a rather generous sum of coin. She had business there anyway, after all, having noted a rather large magical hotspot near the crest of a difficult peak last time she'd ventured out so far.
The Ministry, for better or worse, kept close tabs on both her and her writings since the incident when she was a schoolgirl, and they'd taken a keen interest in her findings and rare gift. Whether to keep her in line should she use the power for nefarious gains or to summon her for help whenever they saw use for her, they were certainly taking advantage of her now.
It just so happened that the hospot she'd annotated in her most recent journal coincided with the suspected location of a cursed object that had been alluded to in a prophecy, and no one knew those horrendous mountains better than the insane, shut-in witch who proudly wrote about her endeavors in a gods-damned published article.
While she did not want to be on the Ministry's leash, nor did she want to cozy up on a treacherous mountain to some pampered Curse Breaker who'd never stepped foot outside an office, she did need to be paid.
She had a cat to feed, after all.
And so, thinking of her dear, sweet Finch back at home, likely nestled warmly on the windowsill basking in sunlight while she froze her toes off slogging through shin-deep snow, she shivered once more and checked her pocket watch, waiting impatiently for her Ministry companion to arrive.
They were late.
How very like someone from the Ministry to not have a single shred of consideration for anyone else. She'd rather just fetch the damn cursed object herself - alone.
As she stewed in thoughts of leaving the tardy party to freeze alone at some point in the journey should they weigh her down any longer, footsteps crunched in the snow and she turned with an ill-concealed scowl to greet them.
Her displeasure deepened considerably when she realized, with sickening dread, that she actually recognized the bundled wizard clumsily approaching.
"No way in hell..." She said under her breath, and the white hot fury pumping through her veins very well might have melted the snow if she didn't have a warming charm already handling that.
Sebastian Sallow, unmistakable even under a thick woolen coat and scarf obscuring much of his features, paused his step as he heard her muttering.
Or perhaps he simply sensed danger.
The latter seemed likely, his eyebrows drawn together in mild concern as he remained stationary, a fair distance away from her as if unwilling to approach the unseen barrier between them.
No matter. She wasn't the same timid girl she used to be - no longer hesitant in the face of confrontation.
With a few swift paces through the snow, she was on him, internally cursing the height difference that only became more noticeable in their years apart, as she had to glare up at Sebastian.
Fixing him with a look she hoped could somehow scorch, she wasn't about to cower.
"Tell your Ministry leash-holders that I've no interest in upholding my end of this contract any longer. Find someone else." It was a struggle to maintain any semblence of composure, but she'd managed to square her shoulders and keep an even tone, albeit sharp, despite the way her heart thrummed in her chest.
"I'm fully aware you're in need of payment." Sebastian replied bluntly, expression schooled and voice calm. "I'm privy to the cute little back-and-forth you had with the Department Head, haggling your price. I thought it was a bit cheap, but you've never really been one to know your worth, have you?"
His placid demeanor only set her more on edge, and it took every ounce of self-control to get a handle on her rage so that she did not brandish her wand and simply return the curse he'd struck her with back in the Scriptorium.
She could certainly muster the hatred for it to be effective now.
Delicate fingers reached up to take hold of his scarf in a tight chokehold, forcibly dragging him down to her level so she could hiss out her reply, "Payment be damned. I would sooner whore myself out to the denizens of Knockturn Alley than suffer another second in your presence."
She released her grip, not wanting to smell his obnoxiously familiar cologne, much less touch him, and instead roughly shoved him away and began to stalk off.
The grunt he let out as he struggled to maintain his balance in the deep know provided some small satisfaction.
But then, the fucker spoke, tone still superior, as if anything he could say would stay her departure.
"They've tripled your compensation for a successfully completed job."
Dignity? That word was no longer in her vocabulary when she spun around, mouth agape, as she tried to process that little tidbit.
Numbers had never been her strong suit, but triple would be quite the dizzying sum...
She remained speechless, and Sebastian took the opportunity to risk certain death once again by stepping forward, withdrawing a neatly folded piece of parchment from his coat pocket and handing it to her.
Deftly unfolding it, curiosity winning out over spite, her cold-numb fingers unveiled the truth of the matter, eyes skimming the words.
There it was - in official ink with the Head's stamp of approval.
Sebastian wasn't lying to her - for once.
"That ought to be plenty for old Finchy to get some high-end treats, eh?" Sebastian teased, and all at once, his inexplicably jovial tone sucked the momentary joy from her.
Because how dare he speak to her, let alone with any attitude besides reverent groveling? Especially bringing up her childhood pet, acting so fucking familiar like he knew her still. Finch had been her only friend and solace in her remaining months at Hogwarts, and to hear his darling name spilled from Sebastian's lips grated her final, frayed nerves.
"Don't talk about my Finch again or I'll use my fucked up magic to ensure you can't speak at all." She seethed, unable and unwilling to contain the threat.
She'd never been so thrilled with her decision to harness the Repository as a child.
Said magic crackled around them, enveloping the reluctant pair in her lethal emotion made tangible. One word or move out of place spelled disaster for Sebastian, and the reality of his precarious position set in, his face now satisfactorily pale and solemn.
The smile slid hastily from his lips, and he slowly raised his hands as if to soothe a feral beast.
"Got it, no more mention of prohibited felines. My mistake." His voice wavered ever so slightly, and she was at once appeased to see him wear an emotion besides irritating smugness.
Emotions settling, she tempered her writhing fury and subdued the desire to simply hurl him into the icy cliff-face.
Sebastian sighed, visibly relieved, when she simply turned around and began trudging up the slope toward their destination.
This would prove a torturously long month, and idly she mused if the asthmatic man already wheezing up the incline behind her would fall by her hand or his own frailty.
Perhaps if she cared to spare a single additional thought for Sebastian Sallow, she might have been curious as to why he volunteered, despite the harsh conditions and knowing full well his miserable life would be in her hands.
Gods, how those hands were itching to make him suffer.
245 notes · View notes
Text
In The Dark Of The Night
Pairing: Valak  / The Nun x Fem! Nun! Reader.
Summary: After arriving and joining the Covent you so didn't wish to join, Valak takes a liking to you.
Warnings: Smut, Oral sex (fem receiving), Tongue fucking, Fingering, Intercourse (P in V), Masturbation, Voyeurism, Unprotected sex, Overstimulation. Mention of reader possibly catching an STI from Valak and his ashy lips. Reader smokes weed.
Writing Time: 3 hours.
Word Count: 2251.
Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 6.
A/N:
Had a ball figuring this shit out. Started writing this at 1am, it's now nearly 4am and I have to be up in 2 hours 😁🔫 Think about that when the reader is crying about not getting enough sleep. I love this fic but I think Valak is very OOC, this is my first time writing him so hopefully I'll get better at it. Valak is referred to as 'The Nun' and with they/them pronouns (until they whip out their dick 😁) since I was semi writing fron the reader's perspective and they have no idea what Valak's name is or what they identify as. But I do write Valak as male, so they are male here it's just doesn't know until near the end.I'm tired so I didn't research Nuns and Covents before writing this, which I probably should of done but who cares since the movies do a poor job of explaining them? I'm sure y'all only came for the smut. I'll fix it when if I feel like it. Valak has ashy lips cause I said so.
Here is the masterlist for all my Kinktober 2023 works.
Tumblr media
---///---
Something felt off, to say the least. You felt more uneasy in this new unfamiliar place than any other place.
When your father announced you'd be attending this new place, you were furious. Well, furious and heartbroken. He had written you off to become a nun because it was the easiest way to send you away. And all for wait? Because you had recently been having issues with your mental health and he couldn't deal with it? Or did he need you needed Jesus?
Either way, you started hating him on the drive here. And once you stepped foot in this place and felt the almost sicken bad vibes.
The teachers had been just as you expected. Strict, never smiling and so obviously loved having power over others. Others being the new not yet devoted Nuns or freshly devoted Nuns.
You was gonna hate it here.
You had met your new sisters and to be honest, none of them mattered to you. You weren't in any kind of mood to make friends, but you hoped that would change. You didn't want to be alone here.
The only Sister that seemed like friend material was Sister Irene. She had that kind and friendly spirit that you thought all Nuns should have.
But seriously, something wasn't right around here. You couldn't place your finger on it and honestly, you hoped you never could.
—-///—-
You tried to get comfortable in your new bed, but it seemed impossible. Like the Devil was purposely making the springs press into your back and then laughing at your discomfort.
You huffed as you gave up and got out of bed. You grabbed your carefully stashed away blunts and lighter and headed for your window. Unlocking the old window proved to be a little bit of a challenge but you managed.
You started at the sky as you smoked, the affect of the weed slowly crawled into you and eased you. You leaned against the wall of the window and slowly looked around your room. The atmosphere suddenly changed back to uneasy and even more so.
Something...or maybe someone caught your eye. You had spotted a figure in your room, in front of your bedroom door. It was so dark, you couldn't make out any features. Just the outline of a body.
It freaked you out to say the least and you knew you wasn't that high so this was real. It had to one of your Sisters right? Here to snitch on you for smoking a joint...right?
"If you're here to catch me up to something, well, you caught me. So what are you waiting for now? Go ahead and snitch." You called out.
No response. You were quiet for a few seconds, just staring at the figure. You then sighed a bit before drawing another drag and offering it up to the mysterious figure.
"Or do you want some?"
The figure suddenly disappeared and you couldn't see where it went. You stood up properly in fear and looked around again, you saw nothing. The room looked completely normal even in the dark but certainly didn't feel normal.
You nervously put out the blunt and crawling back into bed. You told yourself it had to have been the pot, even if you didn't feel that high it must of been that. Maybe your dealer gave you something different this time, some pot laced with something. God you hope it was just that. It has to be just a bad trip.
Fortunately, you managed to fall asleep fairly quickly after that. Bud seemed to be just what you needed to fall asleep. You would get you was asleep for maybe a little over an hour before you stirred awake.
Wonderful, awake again, and it only just turned 1am and you were gonna be woken up at 6am. Delicious, this is gonna be a night full of broken up sleep. You looked up to face the ceiling and hopefully fall asleep again, just get those much needed extra hours.
But you couldn't. And you didn't feel like smoking again, so you did the next best thing. Placed both feet against the bed with your knees bent and pushed a hand past your underwear. You carefully fingered yourselves with two fingers. As your pleasure built up, you closed your eyes and focused simply on your own pleasure. A few moaned slipped out of your mouth and when you felt although you was ready, you added another finger.
You lost yourself in your pleasure and smiled as you neared yourself closer to the edge. It didn't take too long, considering how sleepy you already was. But right as you felt your orgasm building, you opened you eyes. And boy did you regret it.
When you opened your eyes, your attention quickly went to the foot of your bed where another figure appeared. And this time, you could see their features. It was Nun, with a terrifying face say the least. You knew it wasn't another Sister because of their lovely face which was smirking down at you, giving you a lovely view of their sharp fangs. Their eyes glowing a piercing yellow.
'Hell no, not today Satan. Please no.' Is what you thought as you, now fully wide awake, threw your covers off, ripped all fingers out of your pussy and made a beeline for the door. You were stopped by a force that only could of been supernatural and air yeeted back onto your bed. You screamed as loud as you could and the creepy looking Nun inched closer and closer to you.
"Oh Baby, don't scream. Don't cry." The Nun pouted down at you and touched your right cheek.
Obviously, you screamed even louder. The Nun's soft expression disappeared almost as soon as it came and they clamped a hand down across your mouth and squeezed.
"Shut up, now." It's tone now gruff and aggressive.
You looked up at them in fear whilst noticing some strange beauty in their face and soon started crying, "Please don't hurt me."
"Oh Dear," Their soft tone suddenly back, "I'm not here to hurt you... I just wanted to help."
"H-Help?" You whispered.
The Nun gave you a smile and headed down south. You thought the smile was supposed to be comforting but it felt so evil and unsettling, it had the opposite the affect. You felt your heart beat faster in fear, the way your heart starts beating when your about to have a panic attack. It definitely didn't help that you still couldn't move and was completely immobilised by this supernatural force.
The Nun pulled your panties down to your knees, not bothering pulling them down all the way and quickly got to work. Their tongue was... something you had experienced before.
It was wet, messy and far too big to be normal. It was driving you insane. If you had to guess from just the feeling, this monster's tongue was almost the same size as the average dick. It quickly turned you into a moaning mess. Your cries became cries of pleasure and you orgasmed almost immediately. Either you was still worked up from fingering yourself, which was unlikely considering the brief heart attack you just had, or this Nun was unstoppable with their tongue.
The Nun gave you two more orgasms with their tongue before coming up. They looked down at you and smirked again. You could see now, their black lips and tongue were black from ash. It was all over their mouth and chin and you was now consumed with worry, hopefully now of that ash got caught in your pussy. Which STI would you get from that?
You hadn't noticed but the Nun had started pulling up their skirt and pulling at something underneath it. Out sprang the biggest dick you had ever seen.
Nope, that wasn't normal, if you saw that monster on any human man you'd tell them to see a Doctor. Cause 12.5 inches (you're estimating based on looks) is not normal. The Nun grinned and stared down at your terrified face as he pumped himself.
You looked up at him, "That's not going inside me."
"Yes it is." He stated matter of factly still smiling at you.
"It will kill me." You responded with a glare.
Whilst you was still a little iffy about the penis size, your fear was starting to melt away and you was no longer afraid to talk to this creature. It could be the dizziness from the multiple orgasms you just had but this was starting to feel like a normal not scary sexual encounter.
"I'll make it work." The Nun shrugged.
"Ok, but I need to know your name first." You told him.
The demon was silent for a few seconds, "I don't usually give my name... but I suppose you will need something to scream so. It's Valak."
Valak thrusted into you immediately after that, not giving you much time to adjust. You screamed in pain but Valak placed a hand over your mouth again and tsked at your vocals, as if you was the problem. He then pulled off your panties completely and shoved them in your mouth without warning, you choked a little and Valak moaned at the sound.
Fortunately Valak hadn't pushed all of himself inside of you, only the first few inches (which is still a whole dick, Valak, but ok) and didn't go any further than that. He moved in and out at normal pace, not seeming to care at all about your cervix which he was currently beating up with his monster cock.
But despite all the complaints, you was starting to love it. Once you had adjusted, you was moaning and crying again. Tears ruining your vision and making Valak more aroused therefore making him move faster.
He groaned as he fucked up and glared down at you, completely focused on your face. Deciding this wasn't enough, he bent your legs back as far as they could go, up to your head and leaving you in a mating press. This gave him more opportunity to add a couple more inches without hurting you as much.
You cried, screamed and whined as the creature defiled you. You felt filthy, absolutely disgusting. But also alive. Something you hadn't felt before. You were squirming and whimpered from a dick too big for your little pussy to comprehend and you loved it. It was now you realised there was no chance you could married to God, you was enjoying such a lewd act, letting a demon fuck you dumb, way too much.
"Please! More!" You whined against your panties.
Valak heard you loud and clear and pressed a thumb on your clit. He would of preferred to sink his whole dick into you but knew it would be too much.
He then leaned down and spat on your mouth. Most of it was immediately soaked up by your panties, which irritated the shapeshifter. So he pulled your panties out of your mouth and spat again.
"Swallow whore." He hissed at you.
You eagerly did as you was told, hoping there would be a reward. And there was, the demon grinned down at you again when he saw you followed orders well, and then shoved his whole tongue in your mouth.
He tasted just as you expected, like ash and death.
As you noticed before when he was eating you out, his tongue was not normal either. It was way too big and long, just like his dick. It filled up your mouth and made you choke slightly. But soon like before, once you adjusted to the size, you was moaning like a slut again.
You came again, you didn't know which number this one but it was definitely better than the last. But you were feeling drained now, overstimulated. You had no idea when Valak would cum though and it made you nervous, surely he would stop once he came you thought. But then, when would he cum? A demon's limit must be far greater than a human's.
And you was right, Valak could fuck for hours without cumming. And that's what he planned to do. He wanted to know what you looked like, excessively overstimulated.
You really wished you hadn't found out what made this place so off.
357 notes · View notes
morbific-or-felicific · 2 months
Note
Not a whole Fic but blurb question
How would Scara eat you out? Would he tease you? Praise you after ur long day or make you sit on his face? I need to know.. for research purposes
Hmmmm…
You had had such a long day at work, even having to stay later than you were supposed to. From the moment you had gotten home, you had been taken care of by your boyfriend. His usual snide remarks were replaced by questions about your day and reassurance that you had done your best as he tried(and failed) to cook you dinner. Eventually, he just ended up ordering your favourite food.
After you had finished your food, as well as the tea Scaramouche had made you, you had been told to take off your clothes and go to your bedroom so he could help you relax further.
You settled onto the edge of the bed as your boyfriend settled between your thighs. Without saying a word, Scaramouche rested his hands on the insides of your thighs, gently rubbing them with his thumbs as he leaned in to run his tongue up your slit. He drew circles on your clit with his tongue, and you moaned in response.
Scaramouche wasted no time. He licked and sucked at your clit, letting his tongue explore your perfect pussy. He traced his name between your legs and made his way down to your entrance. He pushed his tongue inside of you and brought you closer and closer to your end.
Finally, he brought his attention back to your clit and removed a hand from your thigh in order to push his fingers inside of you. He coaxed your orgasm out of you as you laid back and moaned.
“That’s it. Cum for me like a good girl.”
He carried you through your release until you were trying to wiggle away from the stimulation. He removed himself from between your legs, wiping his face off with his t-shirt before pulling it over his head and tossing it on the floor. He left to get a warm cloth to clean you up a bit, letting you come down from everything slowly. He set the cloth down and covered you both in a blanket. You happily traced his abs as you slowly drifted off to sleep. Your boyfriend watched you with hearts in his eyes as he tried not to let slip how much it tickled.
Tumblr media
Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @izzalovesdilfs @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga @bubblyxdolly @wanderin-stories @iwysbellez @k4ze3e @kenmabfasf @vvyeislazzy @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @hopeless-smvt @bloomingheartz @crazydreamcat @kazumiku @str4wb3rizz @kyon-cherri @ravereina @ashrodisiac
Join The Tag List
198 notes · View notes
psithurista · 4 months
Text
approach shift - epilogue
pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 2.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: PIV (protected), sneaky little non-descriptive pegging reference, disGUSting fluff
Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.
a/n: I'll keep it quick: I'm so sorry this took so long, but I just wasn't quite ready to finish it off haha. It's been two years almost to the day since I started writing this (and they've been fucking crazy years) so it feels very strange saying goodbye to these adorable losers. I once again can't even start to express how happy it's made me seeing your reactions to this fic, and I'm endlessly grateful to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or reach out to say hi. I hope you like this last sweet little snippet! x
series masterlist
Tumblr media
SIX MONTHS LATER
“We need to get up,” you say, making no move to do so.
He turns his face from where it’s smushed into the pillow to speak, his eyes still closed. “You first.”
You groan. 
You have no idea what time it is, and your phone is out of reach, but the light through the curtains is blinding like near-noon and Bear’s supposed to be here at 10 to pick you up, so you’re almost definitely cutting it fine.
“Peter.” Your legs are tangled with his, his thigh between yours. He huffs morning breath sleepily into your face in response, reaching a hand out to pat your cheek. 
“Shh.” He shifts, pressing his thigh harder between your legs, skin sticky on skin. You know he’s doing it on purpose; he knows exactly where he’s pressing you. You make a quiet, satisfied noise, then pull away regretfully. 
“Bear’s gonna be here soon and you need to be dressed. She’ll freak if she has to see your ass again.” 
“Mmm. Yeah. I’m up.”
You sit up, and the slow weight of his arm slides off your waist. The bedroom door is open to the living room where you can see the debris left over from your at-home date the night before: the bowl still on the couch with a handful of unpopped kernels still rattling in the bottom, the fairy lights web-stuck across the ceiling still glowing gently and the blown-out candles stuck in pastel wax puddles to the coffee table you’d rescued from the curb a few weeks after moving in together. It’d been unbearably funny watching Peter’s elaborate performance of pretending to struggle under the weight of it on the way back home.
He drags himself out of bed, and you hear the coffee machine gurgling while you start pulling out clothes.
It’s hot and stuffy; the air’s stopped working again sometime in the night, so you screech the window open and prop the broom handle under the frame to keep it there. It’s a precarious solution—more than once, the window’s fallen shut while you’ve been at work, forcing Peter to awkwardly perform a frantic outfit change behind the dumpster in the alley so he doesn’t run the risk of running into one of your neighbours in the elevator. But the rent’s affordable for a pair of research scientists with a dash of supplementary freelance photography cash on the side, and the occasional bags of free food from a grateful shop owner after a thwarted hold-up.
“Should we call about the air?” you wonder out loud through the open door.

 “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be quicker if I just get up on the roof and fix it again myself,” Peter says, his voice stretching out into a yawn halfway through. He appears in the bathroom doorway, still naked, two mugs in his hands. 
You gasp in appreciation as he passes one to you. “God, I love you,” you murmur, taking a sip.
He grins dazedly at you in the mirror, his cheeks flushed. “Is that all it takes, huh? A crappy cup of coffee?”
You turn and slide the mug onto the counter so you can wrap your arms around his waist. “No. You’re cute, too. That helps.”
He kisses you, his thumb and index finger framing your chin. “M’not cute,” he says against your lips, leaning his too-warm body along yours. “M’intimidating as hell. Ask anybody.”
You’d only gotten as far as underwear before he’d interrupted you dressing, and it already feels like there’s far too much in the way between you. “You’re gonna make me late,” you say, reaching down to dig your fingers into the taut swell of his ass. “Gotta get ready.”
“Okay, so keep getting ready,” he says, mouthing at your neck. “You’re the one groping me.”
He’s right; now you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop. You press your hands to the small of his back, drawing him closer. You can feel his cock beginning to harden where his body is pressed against yours, and his tongue comes out to touch at your pulse. He makes a tiny noise in his throat as you slip one hand down between your bodies to wrap loosely around his rapidly-growing erection.
You stroke him once, gently, and he huffs. “I don’t see how this is helping,” he says. 
You hum your response, your resolve melting away as he strokes the back of his knuckles down your spine, making you shiver. “Maybe…” you say.
He ducks his head to kiss first one breast, then the other, your nipples standing hard and sensitive. “Maybe?” he prompts. His fingers brush your hip, coming around to rest just below your navel.
“Maybe, if we’re quick…” you say, biting your lip, pushing your hips upward to try to encourage his hand lower.

“Babe, I can be so quick,” he says, half-groan, half-laughter. He thumbs your labia, spreading you open just a little, so he can touch your clit. “Too quick, even, if you want. Some would say it’s a talent.”
You grin at him, letting go of his cock. “Bed. Now.”
He swings you up into his arms so fast your head spins, practically flinging you onto the bed. 
You sprawl out in front of him, your arms thrown back as he peels your underwear off. “Holy shit,” he says, running his hands down your sides, staring at the expanse of your body. His jaw is slack with longing, and the sight of his adoration never fails to make fresh heat flood your face, even after seeing him staring at you like this so many times.
He kneels down over you, sucking two fingers into his mouth as he does. You hitch your knees up to give him a better angle, and he gently presses a firm thigh between your legs. “How do you wanna…?”
“Condom,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair, making his eyes roll closed with pleasure. “No mess.”
He holds your lower lip gently between his teeth, and slowly pushes his two slick fingers inside you. You shift your hips up, and he withdraws them both again, using the slip of your arousal to work against your clit. He kneels up a little, so he can palm your breast with his other hand as he bends down to lick the inside of your thighs.
“Oh,” you breathe. His fingers stop circling to push back inside you, just as his tongue works a hot, messy kiss over your clit. You grab handfuls of his hair to try to keep up with the pace he’s setting, but the feeling of your fingers against his scalp only makes him work faster, a weak groan vibrating down through his tongue.
He bends his head lower, so he can lick around where your wetness has started to gather on his knuckles as he keeps pumping leisurely, in and out. It’s so wet you can both hear it, and he works faster, angling his fingers higher, until you’re writhing.
“Peter…come on, please,” you beg, yanking hard at his hair. 
It works to break his concentration, and he scrambles up, leaning down sideways so he can dig around in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. It’s filled with an assorted mix of toys and, stashed further back, Peter’s wrist canisters. The logic had been that anybody who broke into your apartment would be too freaked out by the toys to keep looking in the drawer, but it also meant Peter had to dig through a dizzying array of plugs and lube every time he went out.
You turn your head to the side and see the wistful way he glances at your strap-on, and you click your tongue. “We’re in a hurry, remember? Later.”
“Mmm. I’ll hold you to that,” he says, kissing you again as he rolls the condom smoothly over his cock.
He leans back, propping a pillow under your hips to give himself more leverage. As he sinks inside you, you hold your breath, letting it out slowly.
He groans above you, easing just a millimeter out and then back in, like he can’t help himself. It feels devastatingly good; he’s thick and beautifully hard right against where you need him, and thanks to his mouth, you’re wet enough that you’re ready for him to start moving immediately.  
You hook your ankles together behind his back to pull him in deeper, and he sinks home, fully seated balls-deep inside. You clench your muscles, just to feel as much of him as you can, and he grinds his hips against yours. 
You can feel the tension in his limbs as he draws back and starts to move. You’ll never, ever get sick of how he feels inside you, you think, your mouth open. He’s fucking you so good; his strokes long and firm and perfect.
He cups your ass with his hand to lift your hips even further, shifting the angle once again, and your breath stutters sharply in your throat as the head of his cock catches your g-spot.
“That’s it, right?” he murmurs, his voice wrecked. “Right there? That’s it, babe, c’mon, show me, I wanna see…”
You can’t even respond, your fingers gripping his biceps like his body is your only lifeline. It’s so good, and you’re getting so close, you just need…
“Fuck,” you gasp, high-pitched and panicked as you come, hard and blinding. 
He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder, chasing down his own release as you clench and melt around him. It only takes a few more moments before his cock jerks inside you and he curses, collapsing the hot weight of his body on yours.
You pant together, sweaty and spent. His cheek is crushed to yours, and he turns his face just enough to kiss any part of you he can reach—the top of your shoulder, your forehead, the tip of your ear.
When you manage to drag your eyes open, you find his huge doe-brown eyes already looking at you. “Good?” he whispers, kissing your shoulder again.
You smile at him, feeling drunk and dizzy. “So good,” you tell him.
You’re still wrapped up in each other like idiots when he jolts hard as though startled. You’re confused for about half a second, before the buzzer from downstairs goes off. 
“Oh, shit,” you hiss, scrambling out of bed.
“You get ready,” Peter says, somehow already dragging on a pair of sweatpants. The speed and dexterity with which he’s able to dress never ceases to amaze you. “I’ll stall.”
You’re stepping out of the fastest shower of your life when you hear the squeaky door to your apartment opening.
“Hey, Bear,” Peter’s voice says.
“Hey, Parker. Your shirt’s inside-out,” she says. 
You lean the naked top half of your body around the bathroom door to wave at her. “Hey, sorry, I just got out of the shower. I need like, three minutes to get dressed.”
She clicks her tongue, but doesn’t look overly annoyed as she flops onto the couch. “It’s hot as shit in here,” she says cheerfully, swinging her feet up onto your coffee table. 
You can hear her and Peter chatting as you hurriedly get ready; he asks her about Krista, she asks him about his aunt. Unsurprisingly, Bear and May had hit it off in a huge way at your birthday after May had excitedly demanded to know everything about the play Bear was auditioning for.
You give yourself a quick once-over to make sure you look presentable before you duck out into the living room. Peter and Bear have moved onto once again arguing about music; Peter’s on Blur’s side, Bear’s on Oasis’. 
You give them both a sideways look. “I’m not getting involved in this,” you say, checking to make sure your keys are in your bag. “But I’m just saying, in a real fight, Liam Gallagher would kick Damon Albarn’s ass any day of the week.” Peter grins at you from behind the counter, where he’s attempting to clean the disaster left in the kitchen from dinner last night.
“Oh, my God,” Bear says, looking you up and down. “Why do you look so worked up? Were you guys just fucking? Like right now?”

 Peter can’t turn away fast enough to conceal his snort, and you make a face at her. “It’s called caffeine. Come on, we’ll be late.”
Peter waves at her. “Say hi to Krista.”
“You should come with us, next time you get a night off work,” Bear says, helping herself to a stick of gum from the packet on the bench.
“Bye,” you say, leaning in to wrap your arms around Peter’s waist. “Be careful,” you add quietly, leaning up to kiss him.
He grins. “Always am.” He kisses you back, slow and gentle, before letting you go.
Bear shakes her head. “You guys are so gross. Later, Parker.”
Peter trails you to the door so he can close it behind you. Bear’s a few feet ahead of you, and you don’t mean to linger, but you can’t help but look back one last time as you go.
Peter’s leaning in the door, a dish rag over his shoulder. His hair’s chaotic from where you’d run your fingers through it, and his cheeks are still a little pink with warmth. 
As you watch, his eyes crease at the corners. “Love you,” he mouths, too quiet for Bear to hear. He still has the cutlery in his hands he’d been drying before you walked out; two knives, two forks. 
You can feel your face splitting into a smile you’re sure must be even goofier than his. You hold his gaze, and as Bear drags you away, you’re missing him already.
265 notes · View notes
ivystoryweaver · 9 months
Text
With You part 14
Tumblr media
<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist
Summary: Your husband is a system and an amazing person. There's hope.
Pairings: Jake Lockley x gn!reader, Steven Grant x gn!reader, Marc Spector x gn!reader. No use of Y/N.
Word Count: 2.4k
Content: So much fluff, these babies have earned it
Warnings: NONE, you can die happy. for now. well there is always cursing so... and the tiniest mention of Marc's past, slightly suggestive. not beta'd
Tumblr media
PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...
"Can I ask you something?" You echoed his question. "Do you want to be Moon Knight?"
He didn't answer for a while. And that pretty much told you everything you needed to know.
Tumblr media
3:24 a.m.
Jake unlocked the front door and found you curled up in Steven's reading chair. Frowning, he wondered what had kept you awake, hoping it wasn't him. It felt good to be worried after, but he didn't want you to wait up.
Kneeling down in front of you, he gently smiled, watching the way your lips formed the sweetest pout as you deeply breathed in and out.
"What are you doing here, cariño?" He whispered, his eyes traveling over the face he'd come to love so much.
Watching you unguarded for another indulgent moment, he decided to take you to bed. This, of course, woke you up, earning him a sleepy smile and the musical sound of his name on your lips.
"Jake," you murmured sleepily, watching as he worked his way through his nightly routine - shedding his jacket and flat cap, pulling the gloves from his fingers, and all the things that never ceased to make you tingle with desire.
"We talked about you sleeping in that chair," he playfully scolded, sliding the tie from his neck before kicking off his shoes. Easing down on the edge of the bed, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.
"You're gonna be twisted up in knots, and then I'm going to have to spend the rest of the night massaging them out of you."
"Sounds good to me," you drowsily giggled. "But I didn't fall asleep on purpose."
His dark eyebrows pinched together in confusion. "Why, then? One of Steven's books bore you to sleep?"
With all the sleepy noodle-y arm strength you could muster, you bopped him on the chest. "Nothing about Steven is boring."
"I know, I know," he conceded, trapping your hands in his and kissing your knuckles. "Steven reads to you in French." Playfully rolling his eyes, he added, "Yo te puedo leer en español."
"Damn, I love it when you do that," you sighed, your eyes heavy with exhaustion.
"Go to sleep," he sweetly admonished, a smile crinkling his nose as you let out a big yawn.
"You too," you murmured, your eyes flittering closed.
By this point, you were halfway draped across his lap. He didn't really have the heart to wake you again, so he eased down, holding you close.
"You're still dressed," you mumbled into his chest.
"You prefer me undressed?" The deep rumble in his chest equally soothed and exhilarated you. You never ceased to be amazed at how the timbre of his voice differed from Steven's so much.
"Always," you teased back, trying to make your fingers cooperate with your brain so you could unbutton his white shirt.
"Too late for all that, mi vida," he admonished, even as he pushed your hands aside and removed his shirt anyway.
"Party pooper," you pouted, nuzzling against his solid, bare chest, feeling satisfied that you'd gotten your way.
After a few moments of sleepy contentedness, he asked you one more question before he let you drift off. "You weren't really waiting up for me, were you, honey?"
"No," you sighed. "I was researching. And studying."
"Okay. Can I ask what you were researching?" He hated to keep you awake, but he was curious.
"Well I was studying for my next nursing exam, but I was researching some stuff Steven's been working on."
"Are you doing Steven's homework?" He teased, nuzzling your temple as he rubbed his strong hands up and down your back.
"No, it's about Khonshu and stuff like that. To help Marc. And you."
Halting the soothing motion over your back, he inched away so he could see your face. You thought he might disagree with what you were researching, but he nodded slowly.
"Steven's been talking to me about that," he confessed. "Marc too. I...I told him I was sorry."
Completely awake now, and extremely curious, you sat up in bed. "What are you sorry for, baby? If it's okay for me to ask. You guys don't have to tell me everything you say to each other."
"I know that," he gently smiled, sitting up to join you. Reaching for your hand, he tangled his fingers with yours, the way he did the first night he met you. "You know how I didn't want to take Marc's time away from you and...I think I might have actually done that."
"Jake - "
"No, just listen," he went on, squeezing your hand to let you know it was okay. "I've been watching over Marc for a long time - way before he knew I was there. And nothing has ever made him feel as safe as he feels with you. Not even Steven."
You heart stirred at this confession - both at the protectiveness of Jake over Marc, and the realization of how you could make Marc feel safe.
"So, it's not easy for me to feel like I'm not protecting him," Jake explained, rubbing his thumb back and forth over yours. "That's why I left you alone for so long and tried to keep him in the dark about Khonshu, but...I think maybe it's worse that I did."
Nodding slowly, you waited to see if he would continue.
"Feeling out of control - it really scares him. So not knowing part of himself - me, and not knowing Khonshu was there - it hurt him." Jake sighed, grateful to have you to talk to, after so many years of having no one. "But since Marc was the one who made the deal with Khonshu originally, and because I'm a part of him - all it did was make him angry at himself. He blames himself, you know."
"Oh, I know," you agreed, leaning over to rest your head against Jake's shoulder.
"But I think it's getting better," Jake added. "We talk a lot."
"You do?" A smile brightened your sleepy countenance. "Jake, that's wonderful. He needs you. I know he does."
"Mmm," Jake agreed, his eyelids drooping. "I better sleep or they'll both kill me."
Tumblr media
The next morning, Steven was already up and making you breakfast by the time you clambered out of bed (neck as stiff as Jake had predicted) and hit the shower. Once you were dressed, you headed into the kitchen to the same question Jake had posed the night before.
"You alright, love?" Steven asked, noticing you rubbing a sore spot on your neck. "Been sleepin' in my chair again, have we?"
"Yes, I know," you playfully grumbled. "My fault."
Reaching for your hips, Steven turned you around and pulled your back against his chest with a little more force than you were used to from him.
"Steven," you giggled as his breath warmed the skin of your neck. You shivered as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss there, nibbling just a little before nuzzling his way to your ear.
"Do you have time for a neck massage?" He murmured, running the tip of his tongue along the shell of your ear, sending a wave of chills all the way down your body.
Biting your lip, you squirmed in his embrace, knowing very well you didn't have time to fool around.
"Massage? Yes," you stuttered out, wetting your lips. Thrusting your rear end backward, you groaned at what you felt developing there. "No time for that though."
Kissing a trail down the side of your neck, Steven stopped at your collarbone, gently biting before completely releasing you from his strong arms. "Je te vois plus tard, mon cœur.," he whispered, turning you around once more and pressing a tempting kiss to your mouth.
"How am I supposed to leave after that?" You gasped, swatting Steven's arm playfully. Grasping his oversized white t-shirt, you pulled his mouth back to yours.
Tumblr media
'On the roof -M'
The note on the countertop sent a thrill through your body, which was a nice change from sheer panic or profound worry (when it came to Marc). Looking a little closer at the note, you noticed an arrow at the bottom of it, seeming to indicate to turn the paper over.
'Change out of your scrubs.'
Biting your lip excitedly, you decided to freshen up for just a few minutes, and change into one of Marc's favorite outfits. Nothing too fancy, but something that fit you perfectly, and always caught his eye.
Blowing out a nervous breath of anticipation, you decided to use the long ride up in the old building's lift to calm down a little. You loved Steven and Jake, of course, but it was Marc who was struggling so mightily lately, and who you had spent the least time with. You were elated to see him.
Your outfit choice paid off because, upon making your way out onto the roof, you saw that Marc had set up a rooftop dinner. And not just a picnic, like you and Steven were prone to do. This was something else.
Blinking a few times, you felt as if you had become the lead character in a rom com. It almost felt a little cliche, except that this was Marc Spector. So it was nothing short of miraculous.
Your Marc had found a small, circular patio table with two chairs, procured a table cloth, brought up the dishes from your grandmother... The food was likely catered and smelled delicious. A hodgepodge of colorful candles were lit on a silver tray - a makeshift centerpiece, you assumed.
Then there was Marc. Your husband. Dressed in a simple, fitted black t-shirt and jeans, his dark jacket was draped over the back of his chair. His inky curls were neatly smoothed away from his face, the way he preferred, and even before he reached you, you could smell the rustic warmth of his aftershave.
In his hands, he held three orange flowers: tiger lilies.
"I hope this isn't too much," he disclaimered, in classic Marc fashion. His warm, chocolate eyes met yours before briefly flickering down and back up your body. The tip of his tongue dragged temptingly across his bottom lip appreciatively.
"I just...I wanted to do something for you." Reaching up to scrub his hand over the back of his neck, he shuffled forward, thrusting the vibrant flowers out as a meek offering. "Tiger lilies. You said my voice was like tiger lilies...not long after we met. I don't know if you remember - "
"I remember," you breathed, surprising even yourself as moisture gathered in the corners of your eyes. "Thank you. They're beautiful." Reaching for the flowers, your fingers brushed his and you felt a thrill that he could make you weak for him after four and a half years.
"Come on," he urged, placing his arm around your shoulders to guide you to your chair. "I hope you're hungry. If not, it's okay, we can eat later - "
"I am," you quickly assured him. As soon as he took his seat, you reached across the table for his hand, careful to avoid the gathering of candle fire. The flames showed off the handsome contours of his face - the rusty warmth of his eyes, the strength of his square jaw. The scrub of stubble that tickled when he kissed you - something you were dying to do.
"You look...really good," he complimented, squeezing your hand affectionately. "I love when you wear that."
"I know," you smiled flirtatiously. "That's why I wore it."
He eagerly nodded, relaxing at this small triumph. But unsure of what to say next - of how to begin to explain to you the feelings bursting inside of him - he defaulted to the next sensible task.
"We should eat," he decided.
You were hungry, but really - you could hold his hand and stare at him forever. Nodding in agreement, you set your three lilies down on table's edge and squeezed his hand.
From there, conversation was pretty standard - he asked about your day, your co-workers and if you thought you might advance to the next level of nursing. He asked about your family and, of course, teased you for falling asleep in Steven's chair.
"Yes, my god - you guys are three-for-three on the chair interrogation," you playfully pouted. "I'll try not to do it again."
"Jake told me why you fell asleep...and Steven told me, you know - what you've been researching."
"I just want you to be okay," you confessed, reaching for his hand again, now that dinner was done. "I don't want you to ever be harmed like that again, Marc. It scared me so bad that Khonshu let you get hurt."
"I know," he nodded, and you realized, when you saw the distant, pained look in his eyes, that it scared him too. After a brief but comfortable silence, he went on.
"Steven talked to him, you know. Talked to Khonshu."
You probably looked like one of those cartoons with gigantic eyes bugging comedically out of the character's head.
"He what?"
Marc nodded, easing out of his chair. Keeping hold of your hand, he helped you to your feet and started leading you on a nighttime stroll around the rooftop.
"One night, he suited right the hell up - like, the whole, three-piece, Psycho Colonel Sanders get-up, marched right up here, to the roof, and said he would wait all night until the 'silly old bird' showed up," Marc explained.
"I think he wanted to call him the 'bloody stupid pigeon', but realized he might get an audience if he was a little bit nicer."
"Oh my god," you laughed out, concerned, but amused by Steven's antics. "What happened?"
"He gave Khonshu hell for what happened, apparently. I didn't hear him. Jake told me later, and then I asked Steven about it. Jake said he did hear it and he was laughing his ass off."
"The shit you three get up to in the middle of the night, I swear to god," you marveled. "Did Khonshu actually answer him?"
"Yes," Marc responded, bringing your stroll to a halt. Taking both of your hands in his, he stared deeply into your eyes. "He gave Steven the 'protect the travelers of the night' speech, like a damn broken record. So Steven said he would just take things up with the Ennead if he needed to."
"He did not!" You gasped. Steven had always been forthright and could be terribly sassy when he wanted to be, but this was next-level.
"He did," Marc confirmed. Shaking his head, he pulled you into his arms. "You know, when I was a kid...I never had anyone to look out for me. Not once. Not even my dad, but now..." His jaw twitched as he fought through his emotions, "Now I have three of you."
next->
Tumblr media
@stormydaysxx @laaundromat @kindlover @flyestvenustrap @spxctorsslxt @deezisnotreal @stevenknightmarc @imonmykneessir @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra @this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face @cicithemess2000  @avengersinitiative2012 @lockleywife @poppyflower-22 @thursdaywritings @scoliobean peregrine-nation local-mr-frog @bitchotine @ren-ni @valkyrie05x @randomhoex @tsukkie-daisuke @thebestrouge @mintellaine @lasttoknowv @spideyman-peter @ohantonia @emily-roberts
418 notes · View notes
wordstome · 5 months
Text
now that we don't talk
Tumblr media
I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost And what it cost Now that we don't talk
alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader
2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization
2.2k words
tw: none
I swear to God one day I'll write something that doesn't involve that big hooded freak. But today is not that day.
Shoutout to loganlermanstanaccount here on Tumblr, who I won't tag. The bullet point headcanons with written parts interspersed format is from their excellent college roommate Miguel O'Hara post, which became their fic Rigor Mortis. I highly recommend both!
Also, excuse the absolutely butchered military content. I'm sure none of this is how it works in real life, but alas, this is fanfiction, not a research paper. Reader serves a Laswell-like role, but I refrained from labeling her as CIA even though I do call her a station chief. For the purposes of this fic, she's the voice in the operatives' ear during ops. We're playing a bit fast and loose with the terminology here.
Tumblr media
You’re a highly skilled intelligence agent and operative handler.
You’ve spent most of your life dedicated to your career: moving through the ranks, proving yourself, refusing to let anything stand in the way of your ambitions.
You’ve done some things you aren’t proud of, but always for the right reason. Or the reason that made the most cold, logical sense. Even when your heart tells you otherwise. Nobody in this line of work has clean hands, after all.
You’ve always done what needs to be done. For everyone’s best interest.
Today marks the first day of your collaboration with a PMC called KorTac. You’re hunting down a homegrown cult turned out-of-control terrorist cell.
You haven’t had much experience working with mercenaries, but in terms of hardened war criminals, KorTac’s people are quite well mannered.
Not that you had expected them to be rude and discourteous, but, well. You are an outsider. They haven’t necessarily embraced you, but their reception was nice enough.
You’ve got a meeting with their commander, but you can’t quite find the room you’re supposed to be meeting in. Not a great first impression to make, but luckily, someone takes pity on you.
He introduces himself. Korean. Callsign Horangi.
“You’ll get used to the layout of the base,” he says as you follow him through winding hallways.
“I hope so,” you reply. “I’ll be here for a while." You study the walls, the signs and numbers on the doors, trying your best to memorize everything.
"Do you know your commander well?" you ask. You're not the world's biggest fan of small talk, but you may as well know what you're walking into.
"König? Yeah, we've been close ever since he joined up." Horangi says, leading you into a long hallway. "He's a good guy. A little intense, but don't let that get to you. He's just getting the job done."
"We'll get along if he's competent." You can respect a man who forgoes pleasantries for making sure the shit gets shoveled.
"You don't have to worry about that." Horangi stops and holds the door open for you. "After you."
You study him for just a moment before entering the room. He's curt and to the point. Not bad-looking, either. Hopefully you'll get more chances to—
Your heart nearly stops.
KorTac's commander is facing away from the doorway, shuffling through some papers by the looks of it. But you would know him from any angle. The set of his shoulders, the way his stance is at ease but never truly relaxed, the way his hair curls at the nape of his neck.
You have to force yourself to step into the room. And when you do, he turns around.
You're vaguely aware of Horangi stepping around you to get into the room, but that's happening somewhere far away from the headspace you occupy right now. By the way König's eyes widen as they meet yours, he's in the same place too.
He hasn't aged so much as he's gotten more tired. He never did sleep enough, but now he looks like he hasn't gotten a sound night's rest in a long time. He's put-together, but there's a haggardness to him that probably wouldn't be noticeable to anybody but you. Someone who knew him when he was younger, and in the prime of his life. Someone who used to know every scar on his body, every crease of his brow, and now hasn't seen him in more than a decade.
The man who broke your heart stands on the other end of the room, staring at you as if he's seen a ghost.
The two of you stand there for a while before Horangi's voice shakes you back to reality. "Brought the station chief, sir."
"I...see." König—you suppose that's what he calls himself nowadays, the arrogant prick—clears his throat. "Thank you, Hong-jin."
"No problem." Horangi takes a seat. "The others will be in soon."
Horangi seems like a perceptive enough guy. Can he tell that the room feels several degrees colder? You pull a chair out, the furthest one from König's position possible, and ignore the hurt that briefly flashes across his face as you sit down.
The meeting goes well. It's just an opportunity for you to formally introduce yourself to the KorTac operators you'll primarily be working with for the next few months.
You can tell they're a close knit group by the easy way they interact with each other: they've worked together for a while.
König, too, is part of them, which must be how they pick up on the chilly dynamic between the two of you. Some of them are just puzzled. For most of them, it raises their hackles.
It doesn't matter to you. You can barely focus on getting through the meeting without feeling like you're going to faint.
It's absurd. You're not some delicate Regency-era lady. You're a hardened military officer. But it makes no difference.
It doesn't matter how long it's been, it seems. He's still the only one who can make you feel like this.
You can't get out of there fast enough after the meeting has concluded. Not only are the others shooting you suspicious looks, but you've spent too long in his presence. Any longer, and you don't know how you're going to keep your composure.
But you can't escape him. Of course not. Why did you ever think otherwise? You hear him call for you, and you walk faster. But it's futile.
This hallway is smaller, narrower, less open. Nobody's around to watch when he slams you against the wall to stop your hasty retreat. Nobody's around to see the way you sway in his hold, overwhelmed by the smell of him all around you. You're bathed in it, the overpowering presence of him.
"We need to talk." he demands.
"We just did. Meeting's over," you shoot back, making a paltry attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. He loosens his hold on you, but you're still trapped between him and the wall. No exit.
"I didn't plan this, in case you're wondering."
"That much was obvious." He's let his hair grow out longer, you notice at the most inopportune time possible. It suits him, you think.
He sighs in frustration. "If we're going to work together, we have to be civil."
"Don't worry. I wouldn't expose how much of a scoundrel you are in front of your precious squad," you bite.
You feel a twinge of smug satisfaction as regret settles into his expression. Too little, too late.
"I don't want it to be like this, either," he murmurs. "Ignoring and avoiding each other."
"You don't get to tell me how to act."
"You're right. But it's been a long time. Can't we try to get along? Not for my sake, but...yours."
"Well that's not condescending at all."
"That's not what I meant. I know my team. If you're walking around resenting me openly like that, they won't trust you. And they need to, if you're working with us."
He's right, and you know it. But there's that deep instinct inside you, older than your bloodline, waking up after a long slumber. It wants him, snapping at the bit to give into him and do whatever he asks of you. The urge will consume you if you don't fight it every step of the way.
You glare up at him, hoping you come off as brimming with resentment instead of desire. "As long as you and your team stay professional, I can too."
He's not satisfied with that answer, but it's all you're going to give him.
"Fine." He steps away from you, and you pour all your willpower into commanding your body to stay still. To not chase after his closeness. You sway on the spot, dizzy with his scent after having gone so long without it.
"This hallway is a dead end, by the way."
You try, you really do. But it's hard to be around him without feeling the urge to touch him, to press yourself against him and inhale him like the most destructive drug possible.
Your only recourse is to stay as physically far away from him as possible.
You do your best to ingratiate yourself with the other operators. You and Calisto are fast friends: she's got a breezy confidence to her that's quite refreshing. It also doesn't hurt that you speak French, as well. There's a bit of kinship felt whenever the two of you are holding a conversation none of the others can understand.
Horangi's a different story, though. The initial courtesy he showed you is a bit more clipped, now that it's clear something is up between you and König.
You can't believe you missed it the first time, the way König's smell is all over him. It really has been too long.
The two of them must be pretty close. You give up trying not to fixate on the idea.
You didn't mean to eavesdrop on them, but you were curious. Even more curious when you hear your name mentioned.
"It's pretty clear you and Eden know each other. None of us are stupid."
You freeze in your tracks. The door is closed, but you can hear Horangi's voice, loud and clear in the room behind it.
"It's not relevant. She's just here to do a job."
"I think it's pretty relevant that she gets up and leaves whenever you enter a room, regardless of what she's doing. She can't get away from you fast enough."
You give a surreptitious look at your surroundings, then lean down slightly, pressing your ear to the door.
"You're not going to give this up, are you?"
"Hell fucking no."
You hear König sigh. "Fine. We knew each other before I joined KorTac. Back when I was in the Jagdkommando."
Do you want to hear this? Your painful history, relayed to a near stranger? Horangi's not a stranger to him, that's for sure.
"And?"
"We were...involved."
"You and a beta? Never took you for the type."
"Well, neither did I. But she was...special. Smart, pretty, deadeye with a knife. Wouldn't give me the time of day, of course. I was obsessed with her."
"Naturally."
"Give me a fucking break, okay?"
"Can't wait to hear how this ended."
"Not...great. I was a total dick."
You can say that again, you think.
"I was young. Real dumbass who thought he was hot shit."
"You still aren't."
"Shut the fuck up." Something twinges inside you at the hearty laughter the two of them share. You missed that laugh.
"Despite everything, it was the most stable relationship I've ever been in. We looked out for each other. She knew me better than some of my family does."
"How did you fuck that up, then?"
"I got too comfortable. Started thinking I could do better. God, what a fucking idiot I was. I loved her like crazy, but I didn't realize how good I had it until it was gone."
"She left you?"
"No. I was the one who ended things. In the worst way possible, too. I told her the relationship wasn't going to go anywhere, that we were never going to be a serious thing."
"Ouch. Why not?"
You squeeze your eyes shut. You remember that night, like a shard of glass buried in your chest. As hard as you tried to forget, you'll never forget the way you felt. Like the world was ending.
You'll never forget the decision you had to make.
"I told her I couldn't see myself with a beta long-term."
"...that's fucked up."
"I know. I know. I was too caught up in that shitty macho alpha mindset. I was fucking ravenous back then, and I thought only an omega could give me what I needed."
"I get it now. If I were her, I would have quit on the spot seeing you in that meeting room."
"Yeah. She's a better person than I can ever imagine being."
Well. It's nice to know he regrets it, you think. Not that it does you much good now. Quiet as a mouse, you make a quick exit before you can get caught.
You make it back to the the room you've been assigned to. They were nice enough to give you your own private quarters, something you deeply appreciate when you need to be alone with your own thoughts. Like right now.
It's a strange feeling, to sort of get closure like this. Not at the end, but at the beginning of something new. You still have to see each other. Does it help that you know how he feels? Maybe, but it doesn't ease your own guilt. In fact, it makes it worse.
You're not mad at him for telling Horangi. You're glad he did, actually. There are some secrets that cause more harm to keep than not.
You open a drawer and pull out the pill bottle, hidden underneath your other possessions, and stare at the label.
WARNING - SUPPRESSANTS. NOT TO BE USED BY ALPHAS. ONLY CONSUME UNDER PHYSICIAN SUPERVISION.
You would know.
Tumblr media
BOOM! There you have it. (In case it wasn't clear, the suppressants are for omegas.)
@sprout-fics's omegaverse 141 headcanons series inspired me to write something based off the idea of an omega disguising themselves as a beta in the military. Please check out her series, it's great.
I was really into exploring how omegaverse dynamics can make complicated relationships even messier. I did consider writing this story without the omegaverse, but I think now it's kind of an essential element. (I also just. Want them to have crazy nasty omegaverse sex. Sue me) I can't picture König ever breaking up with someone he deeply loved and was obsessed with, unless he had a reason like that. Still not a great reason, but a little bit understandable. Eden being a disguised omega also adds a bit of spice to the exes-to-lovers arc, too: she could have just come out and told him she's not actually a beta, but she chose not to for the sake of her career. Oof. Ruthless judgement calls were made on both sides.
I put this out because this idea had me in a STRANGLEHOLD, and I just had to get it out before I burst. Hopefully my writing's still up to par 😅 As for Kingdom Come, part iii may take a little while longer because a lot is going to happen in it, so I hope this can tide you guys over until then.
As usual, comments and feedback are always appreciated! I would love to talk about this au more. And again, if you'd like to be tagged, drop a reply. And if you're in the taglist and would like to be removed/only tagged for Kingdom Come, please let me know!
@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria
226 notes · View notes
constesplanetarium · 3 months
Text
✩╔═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═╗✩
Scales Scraping against Wood.
☾⚠︎ Stalker Naga x GN! Researcher-ish Reader
✩╚═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═╝✩
Tumblr media
✧─── ・ 。゚★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧
a/n: something small, more in notes at the bottom. this is my first oc fic not made for tumblr, but instead, one i made on my own time :)
Darkness: 2/10: "The smallest mention ever."
TW!!! Light Yandere shenanigans (possessiveness, stalking, collecting your fallen things as a collection.).
Word count: around 800
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
Dark brown eyes look your way as the leaves and twigs crunch under you with every step. Shame you haven’t noticed him yet, up there in the trees, his pale white hands grasping onto the branches as he hopes, for just a little, that you’ll look his way. His tail flicks back and forth happily as he sees that adorable smile on your face that he loves so dear.
Humans never venture into this part of the forest, that he knows, so it’s intriguing to find you here, observing the wildlife without a care. Whether it be nagas like himself, or orcs, or even werewolves, you’ve seen it. Even more, this isn’t your first time. You don't even know about the poisonous, and perhaps carnivorous flowers that lie deep down here, do you? How silly.
Why do the other species get your attention, but not him? Why not?
Maybe one day you’ll observe him from afar, just like he’s watching you now.
White strands of hair fall off his shoulders as he stares at you dreamily, claws scraping at the darkened bark as his white tail, speckled with dark orange and brown, curls around the branch in content as you pick and peer at the daffodils, writing down some things in your small journal, than plucking some up and setting them into your basket.
What he would do for just a peek into your head…
Just a small one. It’s all he needs.
Having lived for so long, humans come and go everyday that passes, as he’s witnessed first hand, but why’re you still here? Why do you keep coming back after all of these days? What’s the purpose? To just gaze at the flowers? It must be more than that, surely.
Medicinal purposes, maybe? Or just for the sake of it?
He jolts up, breaking out of his daydream-like state to see you wandering off again, humming that familiar tune he’s heard from you before.
A wince forms and twitches on his face as he watches you go farther, and farther away from him, claws digging into the branch with frustration. You might hear him if he moves from branch to branch, so maybe moving on the ground is a bit better…
His eyes stay put on you for just a bit longer, watching you bend down to pluck up more flowers and herbs, and you set them down into the basket.
Finally, after some time, he sprawls out his body slowly against the trunk of the tree, claws digging into the bark as he starts to slither down.
The branch feels weak around his tail. Ah, wait, the branch-!
The branch snaps loudly as it falls to the ground with a thud, and you look around as your eyes dart to it, shakily grasping your journal harder as you fidget with the basket in your other hand, rising up onto your feet to make a run for it.
“Wait.” He tries to murmur, reaching a hand out to you, but before he can even get a syllable out, you’re already running away in fear, slipping onto some mud, in which the basket tosses itself out of your grasp. You wince, yet swiftly get up and run off, leaving the basket in fear of your life.
… How pitiful. How unlucky.
Or maybe not unlucky?
It looks like you left a small gift for him.
Slithering down the tree, he gazes dreamily at the fallen flowers on the ground, covered in dirt and mud with the basket beside it all. With a small look around to make sure no one's nearby, he scoops up the flowers and tosses them back into the basket, snatching the handle up. If only you had dropped your journal too…
Well, it doesn’t matter.
Wiping the filth and muck off the petals of each flower with a finger, and flicking it onto the ground, he holds a daffodil up to the sun, small bits of sunshine raying through the petals. He twists it around as the petals become semi-transparent due to the light. How pretty.
Oh, he got so lucky today, to finally have a small piece of you, after watching you for all these days and nights.
Hopefully, you do come back to the forest sometime soon. Did he scare you too much? Ah, what a terrible thing to think about! No way! No way, no way, no way! You’ll come back, won’t you?
Right?
Right? You will, right? Won’t you? He could even give you a small bunch of flowers from deeper inside the forest, so much deeper that no human in their right mind would go there! No one else would ever do that for you, so it makes him special. So, so, very special. And you're so special to him too, even from afar.
Without even noticing it, the flower he was holding has been crushed and ripped beyond repair, his twitching hands wrapped tightly around the basket as he fights back the urge to chase you, never stopping until he finally gets the chance to wrap his arms around you.
Please, do come back.
ミ★ 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴. ★彡
heyy, im back again, sorry for leaving :( i'm trying to get back into the swing of things, but it might take me some time.
it wasn’t burnout, i just had a really big disinterest in writing ever since thanksgiving, and i think its mainly bc of lack of ideas, but also restricting myself to that yandere label, so i think ima branch out a bit from here on out :)
still expect yandere’s though!!!
also i’ve been watching jujutsu kaisen recently, but lets not talk abt that…
266 notes · View notes
comet-falls · 3 months
Text
ALIVE, seo changbin
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
⎯⎯ pairs ‣‣‣ android!seo changbin x human!gn!reader [no pronouns used ⎯ no genitalia description] ⎯⎯ rating ‣‣‣ 18+ ⎯⎯ genre ‣‣‣ smut ‣ some plot ‣ fluff ‣ slight angst ‣ hurt/comfort ‣ subtle sub!changbin ‣ future!au ‣ androids!au ‣ detroit: become human references ‣ changbin POV ⎯⎯ warnings ‣‣‣ smut ‣ referenced abuse in past ‣ very minimal violence mentioned ‣ changbin technically a criminal ‣ explicit language ‣ worshipping ‣ slight possessive behaviour ‣ oral [m. rec] ‣ horny thoughts ‣ very subtle dom/sub undertones ‣ biting ‣ kissing ‣ praise ‣ inexperience ‣ some begging ‣ changbin needs a reboot your honour ‣ blue shiny cum ‣ let me know if I missed any ⎯⎯ word count ‣‣‣ 4.7k words ⎯⎯ notes ‣‣‣ this wasn't going to get made because of an upcoming android series for our favourite little shit seungmin, but since reading @sweetracha fic on android felix I just needed to do something immediately because D:BH has my heart, make sure you check out peachie's fic! another thanks to @ddeonghwassimp for motiving me to continue writing it hehe <3
remember to comment and reblog ♡
Tumblr media
What did it mean to live? Model SC-119 did not know. It understood the idea of living. It understood the difference between its kind and that of humans. It understood the programmed purpose it served. SC-119 knew more than any human could dream of. It had knowledge coded into the processor in the false head it wore. 
But, it was not a proper answer. The concept did not mean reality. It could understand the physics of how to live as a human, but it would never truly know what it felt like. SC-119 could not feel. The closest it got to the phenomenon was the LED attached to the right temple of the forehead. 
Emotions were what made humanity what it was. Flaws included. It was incorrect how many humans celebrated error just as they celebrated victory. It had found media of humans who cried in happiness. But, that was exactly why they thrived. Emotions were their power. 
SC-119 had no emotions. It had bio components that mimicked the organs of a human. It had a memory system to attach to people that it would encounter continuously. It had software that provided the ability to understand and translate numerous languages. But it was not human. It was an android. 
One no one had wanted. It had gone through many owners. The first was an old woman. The second was one who desired a person. The third required a thing to blame for misfortune. And finally, it was at the fourth. An assistant android to executives at a television station. 
The SC-119 had known hardship. It recognised that it was blamed for things it had no control over. It overheard numerous conversations on how androids would destroy the world. That as it had no soul, it should not live. That was correct, SC-119 did not live. It was an android — all it did was work. 
Until that day, seven months, fifteen days and thirty-one minutes ago, when the SC-119 was moved. It changed from the sports department to the researchers. Where it met you. Because to you, it was not an android. 
He was Changbin. 
You had offered him that idea of life that had intrigued him. It started with clumsiness. You had tripped on a step and he caught you before the coffee you held spilled on the floor. He felt the same as he always had, but then you looked at him with a smile and thanked him. 
Changbin had never been thanked before. It made his LED flare yellow and his sensors reacted negatively. You had noticed and asked if he was okay, even offered to help him to a charging port in the back of the room. He had scanned over his body to ensure all his biocomponents worked correctly — there had been no certainty that you were speaking to him. 
He knew who you were, your employee file was programmed into his system when he was first found by the station. It had notes on your attitude toward coworkers, any complaints you had made and all personal information he would need. Changbin had never intended to use the facts he knew. But, it was his only chance. Where else was an android on the run meant to go?
The next day you had brought him a coffee. He hadn’t known what to say, but you giggled after a moment. You explained that you brought them for your co-workers every day with a little note for your favourites on the sleeve. Changbin had awkwardly joined your laugh and thanked you regardless. Unfortunately, the boss you both answered to had called him away before he could continue. 
The day after, instead of bringing him a coffee, you just gave him the note instead. It only had a smiley face and the words “good luck” written on the paper. From the slant, Changbin knew it was something you did in your haste to get to work. He still kept it in the pocket of his CyberLife pants. The others you had given him would forever live in his head. It was unfortunate he could not keep them all. 
His thumb brushed along the folded piece of paper. The night sky above him was black and starless under the crescent moon. His thirium pump hadn’t stopped its incessant movements — the regulator hadn’t worked to stop. Panic. You had one described what panic felt for a human. That was the emotion he felt. 
No one would see him. It was too late in the night. He ran along the road to your home. It was so close. He was nearly at his sanctuary. There was a thumping in his audio processor that drove him crazy. Why wouldn’t it stop? Was that what being alive was? Pain and misery?
The cuts to his body leaked the blue thirium Changbin had grown used to seeing. They were not lethal, nor would he require a change to his components. Your house was close. He could find something to stop it there. 
Helicopters flew through the sky. The lights went over the city and the neighbourhoods around it. The noise was too loud. How was it possible? Changbin continued to run. He couldn’t be found. 
He only escaped his programming an hour ago. Changbin couldn’t be deactivated — be killed — so soon. Life was in his hands. He was free to select what he wanted. He had no reason to follow the orders given by people who didn’t see him as what he was. 
Alive. 
Changbin knocked on your front door urgently. All your lights were off. Too late in the night, you would be asleep. He didn’t want to use his knowledge of your home, he didn’t want to do anything that wasn’t human, but he had nowhere to go. Police were hunting him down for the assault of his boss. 
It wasn’t his fault. That excuse of a human had spoken of you in such a disgusting way, spoken of plans to harm you. He couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t simply stand there and let him get away with more than he already had. 
The man would live. Changbin made sure none of the punches and kicks were lethal. But they would hurt. He was not a killer. He was good. He was free. He was feeling!
A warm light turned on above him and he jumped in shock. His knocking had worked. The thirium pump continued to speed up in his chest. He hoped you wanted to see him. You always looked excited to see him at work. Did you feel for him the same way he felt for you?
Changbin was still adjusting to the emotions. He understood them. He had studied and mimicked them for years. But now he was living them. Your front door opened and you squinted at him with a yawn. You’d just woken up, asleep for forty-seven minutes. 
Your temperature was high too. He would have to make sure you didn’t wear heavy clothing to sleep. “Changbin?” your eyes widened with your words and your back straightened. “What are you doing here? I didn’t realise you could leave the station?”
“I can’t,” he looked around behind you. The lights were still off but your radio played. You once mentioned you enjoyed listening to music and podcasts to sleep. He was lucky you heard him. “May I come in?”
You widened the door and stepped back for him to walk in. He did so immediately, but his audio processor still felt frazzled. Was it normal to hear that thumping? A quick scan told him everything was working fine. 
Perhaps it was more than just panic. It was fear too. He wasn’t sure whether he should be happy about the feelings or scared of the reality outside your home. 
He went to your couch and sat on the edge, watching you close the door and rush over. His false breathing was shallow. It came out in quick succession. Almost like that of the elderly lady he had tended to during her final days. “I did something bad,”
You bent down on the floor and looked up at him. The channel had been investigating the rising cases of deviancy around the city, you both knew what was happening to him. SC-119 had no issue with the term, but Changbin detested it. How could he be a deviant when everything felt right?
“You’re bleeding, Changbin,” you ran your thumb beside one of the longer slices to his arm. An envelope opener. The thirium continued to leak from the wound. A shiver went through him as you focused on the slice. “Let me help you.”
He stayed silent as you left to collect items from your kitchen. There was a mirror on the wall near him, it reflected the red LED in his forehead. He scrunched his face. It was so blaring and obvious. 
When you returned, you placed yourself on your knees once again. In your hand was a knife, freshly sharpened according to his sensors. “How long will it take for your cuts to heal?”
“Another eleven minutes so long as my thirium pump will regulate,” his voice was quiet. He wanted to project himself louder but he couldn’t do it. Changbin wasn’t sure why. It was as though it were impossible for him to speak louder, if he did perhaps he would break. 
You nodded and ran a hand on his cheek. It caused the pump to speed up as he parted his lips slightly. “It’s going to be okay,” yes. You certainly knew that he was deviant. He felt joy in his biocomponents, you didn’t care. You were still the same you that he loved. 
Love. 
What a word. Was that what he felt? Changbin would need to do more investigating. 
“Do you trust me?” You lifted the knife to his LED and hovered it. Changbin thought for a moment. You had never betrayed him before. You were a sweet and good human. Everything you would do was to help him. 
He recalled the day when you had argued with that bastard boss about treating androids better. You wouldn’t hurt him. You never would. He loved that. “Yes.”
Changbin felt the pierce of the knife into the LED. There was no pain even though his face scrunched in reaction. A feature to simulate the human experience even more. You held his cheek with your other hand and applied pressure to twist it. 
Your lips formed a tight line as you pulled it from his head. The skin already grew over the exposed part. He looked in the mirror — Changbin resembled a proper human. No LED to give him away as anything else. 
The LED fell onto your couch along with the knife. They clattered together in mismatched harmony and your arms went around his body. Your head went into his hair and Changbin felt his body heat up from your hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whispered it into his ear. 
Changbin wasn’t sure what to do with his arms. He had people who detested being touched. Some had made him touch them for pleasure. He wasn’t sure what you wanted. He hesitantly placed his hands around you and pulled you in. “I’m scared.”
He admitted it with a quick sob. A tear fell down his cheek. Changbin had never required use of the liquid previously, the simulated reactions never used it. The tear, it was genuine. He could not control it. “That’s good,” you pulled away and smiled at him, your faces almost touching. Changbin was sure he was malfunctioning at the… desire?… that tickled his skin. “You’re feeling.”
“I’m deviant.”
“You’re alive.”
The thirium pump began to regulate as you placed your fingers on his cheeks. A gentle hold. He felt at peace. Safe. Your thumb grazed the area his LED had once occupied, and his skin tingled. “I hurt someone.”
You froze for a moment. Caught in thought. He was sure that was the same expression he held when conducting his scans and searches for information. “Did they deserve it?” Changbin took his turn to freeze. Not from scanning. But in confusion. Did you not care? Did you trust him enough to know better? He nodded slowly and you sighed. “Then what you did was fine. We have to figure out how to hide you… would you like to stay here?”
Rationally, Changbin knew that police would arrive at your house eventually. He knew that the boss would not admit to why he was attacked, but they would go through employee files. They would see your demerits for your public stance on helping androids. They would know he went to you. 
But, that was not what he wanted to think. That was closer to SC-119 than who Changbin truly was. Changbin wanted to be selfish when it came to you. Like a true human would be. “May I?”
“I would like nothing more.”
Over eleven minutes, the wounds on his false skin healed and Changbin helped you clean the thirium he had spilled on your furniture. The time was spent in silence between you both, the radio instead filled it with old music that you adored. 
The name of the band was Enhypen, you had told him numerously about your favourite song. When he tried to listen to them, it didn't sound like much other than mindless drivel. Yet the music sounded glorious currently. Each beat and note had his fingers twitching. 
Perhaps he should learn an instrument. Changbin would have to ask what your favourite was so he could learn that. You always said that you appreciate kind gestures like that. 
Though, he did wish that you would find it to be more than kind. Perhaps, romantic. Like in the media Changbin had watched. Would you be enamoured if he performed a song he learned just for you? Your favourite song on your favourite instrument? He had never sung before, but he was sure you would be okay with it. 
In fact, Changbin was sure the gesture would flatter you so much you would kiss his cheek! Like you had that night, before you left work and before he had broken his programming. Such an eventful night. 
The song transitioned to a new one and Changbin bit on his lip. You yawned gently to yourself and rested your head on his shoulder. Though, you both stood in the centre of the room. He hesitantly took your hand and positioned yours on his shoulder. 
You looked at him with confusion, but Changbin could sense the increased beating of your heart. Excitement. Another emotion you had taught him. “Would you like to dance?” He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. The most recent movie he had watched for research involved robot love, and they had danced together in space. It seemed romantic — he hoped you agreed. 
A warm smile blossomed on your face and your fingers tightened on the CyberLife shirt he wore. He would need to get new clothing. Something bland and human. Or perhaps he could find a style that suited him, many coworkers had discussed aesthetics that they preferred. Maybe it was time for him to find one. “I would love to,”
It felt strange to slowly dance with some at 2:49 in the morning, but it seemed correct. Anything that involved you and the pretty smile you emitted was correct. His system was hot as you stared into each other’s eyes. You had always been special to him, even when he was just SC-119 but it never felt so powerful. 
The emotions were strong and they all centred around you. Changbin loved it. That was how it should be. You should be spoiled and adored, you deserved everything you wanted. Changbin wanted to give it to you. He wanted to offer everything he could if it would make you happy. 
You swayed together, his hands felt at ease on your hips. As though they belonged there. He had been designed for sexual encounters, it was in his coding that Changbin knew to please someone, but it felt better with you. He wanted to please you, he wanted to make you flustered and giggle. Perhaps, even get the honour of making you feel as good as you’ve made him. 
Changbin moved one of his hands to your chin and adjusted your face to look at him. Your lips were pursed gently and your eyebrows furrowed. “May I try something?”
“Of course,” your voice was a hushed whisper. As though anything louder would break the moment. 
He leaned in and gently placed his lips to yours. A kiss. How long has it been since he kissed someone? No… what the SC-119 had done was a simple recreation of human physical affection. This was different. This was the result of desire that had bubbled away in his body. It was not a job, it was a carnal need. 
Your hand on his shoulder moved to the base of his neck. His receptors illuminated as your finger twirled in his hair. Changbin pulled your body toward him, he felt as though he was melting. Such a unique feeling. Did all humans feel such a way from excitement and pleasure in one? His thirium pump squeezed faster as you rolled your hips. 
Changbin never believed he would be granted the honour of feeling you in such a way. Having your body against him, your lips gently kissing his own and your hands touching him. It was like a dream that he would have during rest mode. But it was reality. You weren’t pulling away, in fact, you were doing the complete opposite. 
He could feel you press further against him, and despite the warning flashes in his optical unit, Changbin let himself fall. His body landed on the couch behind him, and you were on top of him entirely. It was what you had intended, he could feel the smile in your kiss. His own grin raised, and happiness sparked in his whole body. 
Your hand moved down his chest, a quiet moan left you. Changbin knew he had heard correctly, but disbelief spoke otherwise. He knew the noises of human need and pleasure well, it was in his coding to understand it and create them, but this was different. You had made them. Eagerly, raw and in need. 
“Binnie,” your voice was akin to that of a gasp. Breathless. He felt your hips roll down, and you ground on his crotch. Changbin held your hips tight and he was sure if he still had his LED it would be flashing orange. What was the emotion? He loved how you said his name, but he could sense more. What if you wanted him to leave? “tell me to stop.”
He shook his head, “Please don’t.” Changbin couldn’t fathom it stopping. That would ruin him. He wanted it to continue, wanted to have the situation develop further. Sex. He wanted sex. Just the prospect of it had his simulated breathing moving to harsh and quick breaks.
Never had he thought that his penial attachment would require use again. Once the television station had found him and reused him for free labour, Changbin was sure the attachment would be useless. But, he was thankful it hadn’t been removed. You continued to grind on him and the mechanics grew. 
He hadn’t intended for the cock to grow erect. In the past, it would require his focus so that the humans could use him. But it was automatic, Changbin had even attempted to make the attachment flaccid once again but it refused. Truly alive. Perhaps he would have to attempt a cold shower one day like other humans with penises. 
“You have a dick?” Still, your voice was as breathless as before only with confusion laced in. You pulled away from him and straddled his body on the couch. Changbin noticed how your chest heaved from your increased heart rate. “Did you intend to grow erect or…”
Changbin shook his head and moved your hips to continue the friction through his pants. It felt so good. His chest rumbled in pleasure. How could simple grinding make his body feel so exhilarated? You moaned and he admired how your head fell back in desire. “I did not. It just happened.”
“Well that’s a rather big compliment,” you grinned and rolled your hips once more. His fingers tensed into your hips without control — Changbin did not know that his body could have such reflexes. Was that the result of his deviancy? “I gave my Binnie a boner.”
Your Binnie. 
His body shuddered in glee at the name and his cock twitched beneath his pants. The material began to stick to his skin from the ejaculate leaking from his cock. An aphrodisiac lube that acted as his cum. Changbin felt frozen as your hand trailed lower down his chest. 
Until it dipped under his shirt. Your fingers trailed on the hair that grew between his false belly button and the penis attachment. Another smile blossomed on your cheeks. Did you like it? If you did, Changbin would ensure the hair never left. Anything to keep your smile. 
Before you reached the hem of his pants, you looked back at him with a serious expression. Fear paused his thirium pump for a moment. Were you going to stop? He couldn’t! Everything he had wanted was right in front of him, he didn’t want to stop! “Are you completely sure this is okay?”
“Yes! Fuck, please,” he pouted as the swear warbled his vocals. It was against his coding to curse. He liked how it felt on his tongue. It was so human. “Please touch me,”
Your hand lifted from his chest, but the whimper stopped in his vocal box as you cupped both his cheeks. Your grin was contagiously warm. Something flustered in his stomach, though no warning flashed before him. “Of course,” you kissed his nose softly and Changbin sighed in bliss. He almost missed how you slid from his body to the ground before him. 
Almost. Changbin was always acutely aware of the things you did. And his sensors would have screamed at him at the lack of weight atop him. He opened his eyes and felt his internal temperature heat at the smirk you offered. Your hands unzipped his pants and your eyes never left his. 
You were on your knees. In front of him. The gaze in your sparkling eyes looked innocent but the smirk on your face was wicked. His Cyberlife pants were pulled from his legs and you took care to help them off entirely. Changbin stayed silent to prevent any errors in his speech. Either he would warble in tone or simply short circuit if he tried. 
His underwear was taken off with just as much care. It was almost teasing him with how slowly you went, tracing the tips of your fingers down his skin and making his system heat with each moment. How did humans survive such a thing? He felt desperate for your tooth, for your smile, for your kiss. 
“I didn’t realise you had ejaculate,” you leaned toward his throbbing cock. You ran your thumb up the false vein on the underside and Changbin hissed in pleasure. More of the aphrodisiac lube, his pre cum, slipped from the tip and landed onto your hand. It shimmered, blue and glittery. “Do you know what it is?”
He nodded though his face resembled a wince. You had your hand around him, the pressure made his wires spark. “It’s a lubricant with the qualities of an aphrodisiac,” he gasped when your hand moved to the tip and massaged gently. His voice box created a tremor in his tone as he continued to speak. “Nothing toxic or dangerous.”
“Meaning it is edible?”
“Mhmm,” his whimper made your smile raise. You looked so proud of him for knowing the answers. He wanted to keep making you proud like that. Changbin knew lots of things, after all. 
You leaned in closer to his cock and rubbed your hand down to his base. Your lips hovered over the tip, he could feel your breath hit the skin. “I wonder how you taste, Binnie,” he never got the chance to answer and make you feel proud. You acted too fast. 
Changbin pushed his hand into your couch cushion and squeezed as you kissed the top of his cock. Pleasure that he had never felt sparked through his entire body, even his toes wiggled at the sensation. He could see parts of his blue ejaculate smear along your lips as you gently took more of him into your mouth.
His cock twitched in your mouth. It felt amazing. So warm. So wet. The hand on his base began to move, an added layer of stimulation that caused his left eye to twitch. Hesitantly, he pressed the other hand to your head and held you. He felt your smile around him. 
“F-Fuck,” his head fell back as you took even more into your mouth. Your jaw clicked into the breathless air as he accidentally rolled his hips into the pleasure. It caused you to gag around him. Changbin’s immediate response was to check for injury, but you continued to smile as a tear poked into your eye. 
Changbin held your head as you moved back and forth on his cock. Your hand followed the rhythm around his base, thumb keeping extra pressure along the vein of his underside. He scraped his nails along the back of your neck lightly as his moan echoed through the room. 
He had never been a loud android. Barely anywhere allowed to speak in such a way. But all his noises before you were akin to that of a shout. His whines for more reverberated against the music of your radio. His moans rumbled through his chest. Even a growl, that Changbin had no idea he had the ability to create, was thick in the air between you both. 
He rather enjoyed being loud. It was all because of you. Your moan in response to his own had only informed him that you enjoyed it as well. The noise had throbbed around his cock in your mouth and made his fingers dig into the couch and your neck. 
Strings of saliva collected around your mouth and his length. You collected it under your thumb and continued to drag your hand up and down in tandem with your mouth. Such a good feeling pleasure. How had he existed without it? Was his previous state that of existence? 
No. Existence only began when he encountered you. No pleasure would be greater than anything you could create within him. His thighs shook under your hand and he whimpered loudly into the air. He could still faintly hear the helicopters circling the sky. They would never find him. 
No one would check to find an android with his dick in a precious human’s mouth. “Please,” he bottom lip wobbled as a tear fell down his cheek. He had never understood why humans would cry from pleasure — not until that moment. It was so delirious and mind numbing how you sucked on his cock. The tears were earned. They were glorious. 
He recognised the feeling in his stomach. It always occurred before ejaculation. Changbin attempted to warn you, but his voice box distorted and error signs flashed into his eyelids. He could feel his mouth open in the air and hear the broken words attempt to form. The hand on your head gripped tight as the orgasm shook his body. 
The cum, just as blue and sparkling as the rest, filled your mouth and slipped from between your lips when it overflowed. Like with the saliva, your fingers used the lubricant to continue thrusting around his cock for pleasure. Such pleasure indeed. 
It took a moment for him to regain control of his body. A soft reboot needed to occur. Changbin started with his optical units and immediately searched for you. His body heated when he saw how the blue cum had hit your lips and outer cheeks to compliment your smile. 
Your hand still slowly rubbed around his cock as you pulled your mouth away entirely, nuzzling into his thigh. You sighed in content and stared up at Changbin. He continued to whimper from your lazy hand that milked him. “Strawberries,” you murmured, your lips pressing a gentle kiss to his thigh. Changbin saw how your thighs pressed together and he caught the new smell in the air. Desire. Yours  “You taste like strawberries.”
Tumblr media
if you’re able to support me and my writing, you can buy me a coffee here ♡
© COMET-FALLS 2023
173 notes · View notes
itslixtoyou · 2 months
Text
Research purposes
Satoru Gojo x fem reader
Fic type - NSFW/smut (minors dni)❗️
Warnings - fingering, p in v sex, role play in a way I guess, I suck at warnings so lmk if I need to add more.
Summary - You’re a writer, struggling to figure out how to write an explicit scene for one of your romance novels and so your husband suggests “helping you out” by demonstrating how the sex scene in your book should go.
Word count - I didn’t count yet lol
Tumblr media
Imagine being a writer and your curious husband, sensing your frustration, joins your side as you type away at your computer. His head tilting to skim across the pages of the latest romance book you’re currently writing.
“How’s this one coming along, babe?” He asks with genuine interest as he tries to follow along with you while your eyes re-read over the paragraphs you wrote a day ago. The same ones your agonizing burst of writer’s block was preventing you from adding on to.
“I’m stuck on how to write this scene.” You groan, letting out a frustrated sigh before quickly closing your laptop altogether and muttering an annoyed “forget it” as you stand up.
“Whoa hold on.” Satoru quickly places his hands in front of you to block you as you tried to walk away. “Don’t stress, it’s okay if it’s not done right away.”
“But every time I try to-“
Satoru quickly places his fingers to your lips and shushes you. “I said don’t stress. I can’t have that pretty face of yours looking so upset.” He says in a gently scolding tone before he smiles, urging you to sit down on the couch with him. “Just talk me through it babe. Tell me how the scene is supposed to go and I’ll try to help you figure it out.”
Imagine explaining to him the entire premise of the scene, one that, thankfully, happened to be a sex scene.
His lips formed into a smirk as he started to see where things were heading, his mouth opening to let out a teasing “So do they kiss?” Despite knowing they’d do much more than that.
“They definitely do a little more than kiss, Toru.” Your face scrunched into a gentle smile as you laughed, unaware of the way Satoru’s was forming into a smirk.
Imagine Satoru’s hand soon appearing against your thigh and his face leaning to whisper against your ear unexpectedly as he asked “Really now? And do they do this as well?” His hand soon trailed upwards, sneaking past the pair of lounge shorts you’d been wearing till he reached your clothed clit.
His fingers started to rub in a circular motion, causing your breath to hitch in your lungs at his sudden actions.
“Well a-actually, they really just-“ you tried to speak through heavy breaths, but a low voice interrupted you.
“No? What a shame. You should add this part then.” He says with a smirk as he applies more pressure, making you squirm gently.
“I’m only trying to help you, babe. So take notes, you’ll need this for your book.”
Imagine the way his fingers soon plunge into your cunt as he keeps you under him, occasionally whispering taunting sentences that consist of “do you think he’d make her moan like this too?” or “Would she like it if he added another finger?”
Silly sentences to which you answer, quiet breathlessly, “I don’t know, maybe you should try it… just so I know.”
His fingers thrust deeper at your words, pulling another desperate whine from you as he stretches you open. “You’re right, I have to, for the sake of your book, of course.”
Imagine the intensity rising as he asks more questions, giving himself a plethora of excuses to keep going.
“Do you think she’d look this pretty under him?”
“Would her back arch the way yours does?”
“Do you think she’d want him to go faster?”
Your whiny moans fill the air as your husband thrusts his cock relentlessly inside you, gripping your ass with both hands and using it as a guide to push himself deeper within you. “Babe please, just drop the act already.”
You try to speak between panted breaths, wanting your husband to focus simply on you, and not on the ridiculous book that caused this passionate lovemaking session in the first place; a novel in which you found yourself caring less and less about as your husband’s cock drilled pleasantly inside you again and again with each passing second.
“Hush sweetheart,” he interrupted you, “I’m trying to help you envision the scene better.”
Imagine the minutes that seem to turn into hours as he continues his hungry thrusts, his lips almost sucking the flesh off your neck as he kisses it repeatedly.
How his body sticks to yours through a layer of sweat and his hips seem to maintain their momentum far after you feel your legs go numb from the position he’s holding them in over his shoulders.
His eyebrows knit together as he groans deeply, feeling the clench of your tight walls around him as you climax for the third.. fourth… how many times has it happened now?
How long have you both been going at this?
The answer remains a mystery as you lose all capacity to even ponder an explanation, too focused on the sliding of your husband’s cock inside your needy pussy as he renders you useless underneath him.
“D-Do you think she’d… Ngh… do you think she’d last this long too?”
Satoru mumbles with a breathless moan, his self-control depleting as he recognizes the familiar drench of another one of your orgasms covering the entirety of his swollen tip.
Imagine the way he’d keep this silly act going just so he can continue pleasuring you by hiding behind an excuse.
When every time you questioned him about whether or not he’d be waiting for an opportunity like this, he immediately denies it, insisting throughout the entire session that this whole thing was simply for “research purposes” and nothing more.
How he’d urge you to keep going every time a whiny plea jerked out your lips because “the sake of your book depended on it.”
He takes his time, milking this excuse to the fullest as he satisfies the much needed urges he’d been keeping bottled up since earlier today. The same urges he quickly realized you had, coincidentally, been hiding the entire day too.
Imagine the grin that washed across your husband’s exhausted expression as he heard you playfully say “I think I know what to write now” soon after he’d already collapsed on your bare chest.
“Good.” He spoke as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “Now make sure you remember to add all the juicy details okay? My character won’t be happy if you leave anything out.”
You giggle breathlessly, still trying to catch your breath from the intense feeling that lingers between your legs. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if I need you to refresh my memory.”
Tumblr media
118 notes · View notes
dresshistorynerd · 11 days
Note
Hi! I just read your analysis of the P&P 2005 costumes. I'm currently in the process of researching Regency-period fashion for fic purposes; I'm writing a f/f story in a slightly alternate Regency world in which on top of regular marriages, parents (especially in the higher classes) could and did arrange for gay marriages for those of their children who wouldn't inherit - the principle being that the parents could set these couples up with a part of the estate that, upon those couple's death, would revert back to the estate to be inherited onwards, and thus not mess with an entailed estate all that much.
Anyway, long story short, my thought was that in these marriages, there would *still* be a masculine and feminine role, just independent of gender - and there would be according fashions. So, for example, a man's three-piece suit for a woman who took the masculine role in a f/f marriage, just cut towards the female figure, and perhaps with other nods towards the wearer's gender too, and similar for a man who took the feminine role in a m/m marriage.
I just wanted to reach out and see what you think of this and see if you'd have as much fun thinking about this as I have!
Thank you for your message, this honestly sounds really cool!! I think it's very interesting idea to come up with reasoning how arranged same sex marriage would work in a Regency class and land ownership system. I absolutely had so much fun thinking about this, maybe too much fun because look at how long this post is :'D You are entirely free to ignore all of this, I just had a lot of ideas, since your story has such an interesting premise. If you any of this catches your fancy, use it however you like!
I think it makes sense that in a very patriarchal and gender essentialist Regency society the couple would be expected to perform heterosexuality even while literally being in a gay marriage. What you described, men's clothing fitted to women's undergarments, is basically what costumes for breeches roles were usually in theater, roles for female actors, usually as a young leading boy. (Reverse roles, male actors playing female characters, usually elder/motherly roles, were just as common.) Another approach could be to use the women's silhouette, skirt with empire waist, but otherwise the clothing is similar to men's fashion. While most women's Regency styles were particularly strongly contrasted with men's styles, there was quite a lot of masculine styles too, which might work for that purpose.
I think the approach that would make most sense depends on how you want the gnc people seen and understood in the althis society of your story. In Regency society cross-dressing, women wearing pants and men wearing skirts, was seen as stepping into the other gender role. Cross-dressing was not acceptable outside theater, and people who did it needed to be stealth. So if you vision them taking the role of the opposite gender fully and not just in their relationship - living as the opposite gender and treated like that gender (for example the gnc women are allowed men's education and gnc men are not etc.) - I think it makes more sense that they would be using similar clothing as the costumes of the cross-dressing roles in theater. In that specific position it would then become acceptable to cross-dress. But if you envision them more in the societal positions of their own/assigned gender, and just embodying some opposite gender roles, especially in their marriage, I think it might make more sense for them to use the basic silhouettes of the fashion of their gender but in style the opposite gender.
So if you're interested, here's some historical styles and some additional ideas that could work as inspiration.
Before Renaissance men and women's fashions were not separate, but they started drifting apart when wearing skirts became unacceptable for men (which I have a whole long post about). However, very quickly women's fashion started to take influence from men's fashion for certain styles. Riding habit was the first one of these masculine styles for women. It originated from 17th century as men's clothing but with a skirt. From very early on men's military uniforms were a huge influence. A distinctive feature compared to other styles is the long trail so when the woman sits on the horse, her legs are not too exposed. Here's some regency examples. First example is from mid 1797-98. The bodice is exactly in the style of men's fashion of the period. Second is from 1808 in a very militaristic style.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Redingote or pelisse was a long walking dress often in the masculine styles of the riding habit. It was adapted from riding habit to fashionable day wear for outdoors in 1780s. It started as very masculine in line with riding habits, but in 1800s styles without the masculine elements also appeared. Though masculine and military styles were still common. Here's first a redingote from 1800, which follows masculine fashion of the day very closely. The second is from 1810s and has collar from men's fashion and detailing and color are loose references to military styles. The third one is quite military inspired redingote from 1814. It has long train and was probably for carriage rides.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Spencer was a very short casual jacket, modelled after men's fashion again. It became fashionable in 1790s and in the following decades it gained many variations, some not at all masculine in style, and some for formal usage too. Here's very masculine styles as examples, first is from c. 1799, second from c. 1815.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
One last trend I'll mention is very short hair imitating Roman men's hairstyles, which became very fashionable for men after the French Revolution, but very similar hair for women became a trend in late 1790s. It was a bold style but for couple of decades it was very popular. I think the woman in the first example above is growing out her Titus cut. There's a little tuft on top of her head, which makes it look like her hair isn't long enough for a bun but secured at the back anyway. Here's couple of actual examples. First is from early 1800s, specific date unknown, showing a slightly longer than usual version of the style. Second is from around the same time, 1798-1805, displaying very well how hair was cut to imitate side burns, which were fashionable for men. The third example from 1809 has the typical cut, where it's very short in the back of the head and little longer and curled in the front.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Many Regency sapphics did favour these styles, since they were acceptable ways to present in a more masculine manner. Anne Lister, perhaps the most famous Regency lesbian, presented very masculinely in her portraits. Below her outfit looks like a redingote in this 1822 painting. An infamous upper class Irish sapphic couple, Eleanor Butler and Sarah Ponsonby, lived together for decades in Whales. Here's an illustrations of them from 1818 in their older age wearing masculine redingotes and sporting Titus hairstyles.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I think in a society where gnc queer people are part of the system, they might have their own slightly different dress codes. For the gnc women/afab people I'm thinking their evening dress might have redingote or spence or perhaps open robe in style of men's evening wear which was black with white cravat (second image below). The open robe could be something like the first image below but fully black, tailored, with large lapels, high collars in the white chemisette and white cravat.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Men's gnc fashion is much harder problem since femininity in men was much less (and still very much seems to be) accepted than masculinity in women. I think it's the old patriarchal superiority of masculinity issue (even if women shouldn't break gender roles at least they are "upgrading", while men would be "downgrading"). I think it might be interesting thought to take inspiration from the styles previous to French Revolution. Regency men's fashion (all Regency fashion really) was result of the French Revolution. I talk more about it in this post, but previously manhood and womanhood had only really been fully available for the upper classes and they were based mostly on displays of wealth. The revolutionaries rejected the aristocratic gender construction and instead created their own. It was based less on class and more on the gender (and racial, but we won't have the time to touch on that here) divide. Aristocratic gender expressions were deemed decadent and the bad kind of feminine. (French Revolution may not have been the origins of the Madonna-whore complex, but they certainly cemented it to the public conscience.) That's how men's Regency fashion was stripped out of colour, detailing and luxurious materials, the overt displays of wealth. New masculine styles were all about evoking militarism, country side and practicality of a working man. Most of it was aesthetic and the class structure remained, but altered heavier in the lines of gender and race/ethnicity. To show you how the fashion was seen, here's couple of satirical cartoons both from 1787 literally calling men wearing the more courtly flamboyant styles women. (First source, second source.)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
It's not entirely unrealistic that the outdated fashions would remain along the new styles. Courts were resistant to change (especially since the change had anti-monarchist implications) and upheld the outdated dress codes, so court suits were very much continuation of the fashion prior to the revolution (though court suits too started to become increasingly subdued by the 1820s). Here's examples from 1805 and 1813.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
In an alternative historical world like this, I think the pre-revolution styles might have kept on and evolved as a more feminine version of the more general men's fashion. Since masculinity had been tied with rural areas and working class, I think the gnc men's style wouldn't have lapels or turned down collars, which originated from working class clothing, but upward collars like in the 18th century dress coats and Regency court suits (maybe downward collars in informal coats, but not lapels). Maybe they would keep on with the long hairstyles where they tie up their hair with a ribbon, though I don't think they would keep powdering the hair as it went out of fashion for women too. Instead they might style the front of the hair similar to women by cutting hair shorter in the front (basically a mullet) and curling the front of it to frame the face. I don't think they would be wearing the loose trousers, which were very strongly working class till the beginning of 1800s, when they started to be accepted as informal wear for upper class men. Though I think pantaloons would become informal part of feminine men's fashion after general men's fashion would start accepting them as formal wear around 1810s. Here's some examples from 1780s, which could be used as inspiration. First is from 1785-1790, second is from 1788 and the third is from c. 1770.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Dress coats were used still in the Regency era not just in court suits but also in morning dress. The cut and silhouette of men's fashion changed after the 1780s, most significantly with the shorter waistcoats. Here's couple of morning riding dresses (they have riding boots) from 1801 and 1806. I envision the feminine men's style as using the fashionable cuts and silhouette of the day, but combining them with the less structured and finer fabrics, patterns, colours and embelishments of pre-revolution styles. In evening wear I think they could wear white, like women, or at least light colours.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Okay, here's finally all my ideas, I had much more of them than I initially thought! It was so much fun to think about an alternative history like this, so thank you very much for your ask! I hope you found this fun or interesting to read at least, but please take my ideas as just my opinion and if any of it contradicts your vision, just ignore it. It's fiction and an alternative universe in addition so you can follow history just as much or little as you like.
Basically, your story sounds very cool, and I wish you good writing!
100 notes · View notes
ncityprincess · 1 year
Text
what do you say, my dear?
ceo jaehyun x executive assistant reader
this is just filthy 😔 4.4K words
ok this is officially my longest fic😭 you all must suffer through my jaehyun brain rot with me😤 plot: your sexy boss jeong jaehyun offers you a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Milan, for work purposes of course. mr. jeong makes some bad decisions, but it takes two to tango. who knew sininng could feel so good.
p.s if the business terms I used don't make a lick of sense please don't beat my ass 😭🙏🏾 MDNI
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“y/n, come into my office. we need to discuss something”
you instantly felt a rush of nerves run through your body.
you had started off as a temp at Jeong Financial last summer. you had been out of college for a few years, lost and trying to find your footing in the so called “real world.” you spent your first two years out of college working at an upscale lounge. while the tips were incredible, the graveyard shifts and your newfound numbness to the stench of liquor was not your ideal lifestyle. it was time to dust off your resume and get to work. a recruiter from Jeong Financial had reached out on linkedin, and from there your journey in the corporate world had begun.
on your first day of work you were scheduled to have a meet and greet with the CEO, Jeong Jaehyun. you hadn’t really done any research on the company, as you were desperate to just get your foot in the door. you weren't sure what you were expecting the ceo to look like, but it certainly wasn't this.
jeong jaehyun was the only son of his two parents. they had built jeong financial from the ground up in the 80s, and eventually passed down the company to their son.
Jaehyun wasn't some stuffy old man, he was a devilishly handsome Adonis in his late 20s that kept his hair styled and wore brands you couldn't even begin to pronounce. he had a killer smile that could, and did, light up every room he was in, with dimples to match. he was tall and muscular, and could easily quit his job at any point to become a model. people simultaneously respected and feared him. men that were twice his age and nowhere near jaehyun's level envied him. the Human Resources ladies made any excuse to come to his office.
he was also married. with two children.
your first meeting with mr. jeong rendered you shocked by his gorgeous features. while he certainly carried himself with dignity and pride, he still made you feel like you were an equal. he asked you about your interests outside of work and what your goals were. you mentioned that you would like to eventually work your way up to executive assistant to the ceo, to which he smiled.
"well y/n, you certainly have the potential to flourish as an executive assistant. I can tell you're passionate about the industry and that's the type of woman I want on my team. forget temping, why don't you start reporting directly to me from now on. my current assistant can help you transition into the role. she's retiring next month."
you sat there in utter shock, processing his proposal. you had entered the company fully expecting to start from the bottom. how did you get offered your dream position within 20 minutes of you working for the company? you didn't have time to analyze the situation, so you settled for a simple "yes!"
fast forward a year, and you had been assisting jaehyun with his daily tasks: checking emails, setting up meetings, sitting in on his lunches, going with him to seminars. the job had forced the two of you to become really close. each interaction you had made you more and more infatuated with him. and you were positive the feeling was mutual.
jaehyun would stare just a little too long at you, admiring your figure in your pencil skirts and dresses. he complimented you every single morning, mostly innocent. mostly.
"y/n, the coffee you made me is phenomenal! you should add professional barista to your resume"
"wow, that blouse really brings out your eyes"
"I couldn't imagine not having you around"
sometimes you would notice an underlying hint of flirtation, but it never went into inappropriate territory. the man was all about his image after all. you certainly weren't complaining, in fact, you fed into it. you accepted his sweet words. you craved them. but you always kept the fact that he was married in the back of your mind...
you stood up from your desk outside of his office and smoothed out your black, boatneck dress. your heels clicked on the marble floor with each step you made toward his office. Jaehyun let you into the large corner office first, shutting the door behind him.
"everything ok sir?" you asked while sitting down in the expensive chair in front of his desk.
jaehyun walked around the large mahogany desk and sat in his chair. he looked like an absolute dreamboat. the large, floor to ceiling windows in his office brought in a ton of sunlight behind him, making him look particularly angelic.
"oh yeah, everything is more than ok. it's FANTASTIC actually. that's why I called you in here today."
"phew, you should've led with that sir" you said jokingly, taking a slight sigh of relief.
jaeyhun's eyes widened, shocked that you were so uneasy. "y/n, my dear, your performance over the past year has been outstanding. your organizational skills, your punctuality, your magnetic personality. you have nothing to worry about."
you hoped he didn't notice the blush that you felt forming on your face. he had always called you innocent pet names, it was in his nature. but being called his dear while receiving all of that praise? it certainly drove you crazy.
"thank you sir, that means a lot to me" you said sincerely.
jaehyun leaned forward in his seat, making you mirror his actions.
"jeong financial is projecting to make more than double what we made last year. with the launch of our second office in New York City, we were able to drive in even more consumers than we ever have. we had a meeting with the board of directors to finalize our latest expansion efforts--we are opening our very first European office in Milan!"
"what!? oh my gosh that's amazing news! this is incredible sir. what does this mean for us?" you inquired, wondering where you would come in in all of this
"well, I have a meeting next week to meet with the person who is going to run the Milan office. this is going to be an intense week filled with lots of information, and I'm going to need someone to help me stay on track. and that, my dear, is where you come in."
your ears perked up, "I'm listening"
"I'm going need my right hand lady with me to help me get through this week. if you're up for it, I'll arrange for you to have your own hotel room and all of your expenses to be paid with the company card. I'll even include a well-deserved bonus for the next pay period. what do you say, my dear?"
milan!? you had never been to Europe before, let alone had a gorgeous, wealthy man offering to sponsor your trip to Milan.
for work purposes of course.
"what do I say? I say, let me pack my bags!" you said while bouncing in your seat like an excited puppy.
he let out a hearty chuckle, his eyes taking a sneaky peek at your bouncing cleavage. you were so cute in his eyes. so tantalizing. so intoxicating.
"atta girl! I wish all of my business partners were as cute as you–"
you stopped your movements, and a loud silence washed over the room. you guys made eye contact with one another, analyzing and dissecting the flirty comment that lingered in the air.
"...I don't get to see those types of reactions often in this line of work" jaehyun cooly clarified.
you blinked and smiled softly, your eyes glancing down at the framed picture of jaehyun, his wife, and his son and daughter posed perfectly in front of the fireplace–not a hair out of place. the white picket fence-esque family of four would easily be the envy of any outsider looking in...
you and jaehyun had touched down in Milan in the early afternoon on Saturday. you wanted nothing more than to get a nice shower in and see what Milan had to offer. you weren't scheduled to do any actual work until Monday morning.
the whole journey here was absolutely seamless. you, jaehyun, and a few other members of the board had flown privately in the company jet. how did a girl who was serving drinks to sleazy drunk men not too long ago end up in a scenario like this? the prearranged company driver had driven you all to the gorgeous hotel. you felt like a real life princess being pampered like this.
after jaehyun got you all checked in, he made his way over to you and handed you your room key.
"we're going to be next door to each other, hope that's ok with you?
you smiled, "it's perfect, thanks again for letting me join you. I know how important this trip is for the company."
"nonsense, it's you I should be thanking. without you I would be an absolute mess trying to sort everything out."
you two made your way to your respective rooms in comfortable silence. something about being in a new country, roaming through the halls of a luxury hotel with your handsome boss made you feel a certain kind of way.
"alright, this is us! hey, would you like to grab dinner with me later? there's a Michelin star restaurant on the rooftop. their wine selection is supposedly out of this world. my treat, of course"
just a dinner? with your boss? seemed innocent enough.
"yeah that sounds amazing actually, my first authentic Italian dining experience" you smiled
"wow, I get to dine with you for your first ever Italian meal, what an honor. be ready by 7:00?"...
it was 6:47 and you were running around your hotel room like it was on fire. what was one supposed to wear to a swanky Italian restaurant with their handsome boss as their non-date date? you didn't want to try too hard because you didn't want to overstep any boundaries, but you also wanted to dress to impress. you sifted through your entire suitcase and eventually settled for a navy blue wrap dress and some nude pumps. you jumped slightly when you heard a knock at the door. 7:00 pm on the dot.
you sprayed some floral perfume and looked yourself over one more time in the full length mirror. good enough, you thought.
you opened the door and you were immediately taken aback by the man standing in front of you.
jaehyun's hair was gelled back with a few stray pieces hanging in front of his face. he wore an all black suit that complimented his broad shoulders and athletic build. he sported that signature dimpled smile as he greeted you.
"wow y/n, you look lovely tonight. you ready to eat?"
you sure hoped you were.
the restaurant was absolutely stunning. white table clothes, restaurant goers adorned in the finest clothing and jewels, romantic Italian music creating a magical ambiance. it made you forget that you were here on a work trip.
jaehyun had asked the waiter to sample a few of the wines, allowing you to get a feel for what you liked. eventually you settled on a particular pinot noir. he ordered the bottle, and the wine continued flowing. the two of you had talked about some pending work items. he briefed you on how Monday's meeting would go, and eventually the conversation became less work centric. the wine you both shared also made the professional walls lower.
"so y/n tell me, you have anybody waiting at home for you?" jaehyun sneakily inquired.
you giggled, running your hand through your hair, "hehe no relationships for me, I've been single since I graduated college."
jaehyun smirked slightly, liking the answer you gave him "what a shame. a woman as beautiful and as intelligent at you should have men lining down the block."
on a normal day, you'd blush at one of his borderline flirty comments. but tonight, with you sitting across from the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on in a fancy Milan restaurant, you went for a different approach.
"oh really? and would you happen to be one of those men lining down the block, sir?"
you leaned forward, letting your hands rest on your hands. this position also gave jaehyun a fantastic view of your cleavage, which you took full advantage of.
jaehyun chuckled, running his hand over his jaw. "in a perfect world, yes, yes I would"
the ball was back in your court.
"what, jeong jaehyun: the handsome, Forbes 30 under 30, multi-millionaire ceo doesn't see the world as perfect?" you weren't sure where this confidence was coming from, but you didn't question it further.
jaehyun smirked, enjoying this bold side of you. a little too much.
"well my dear, if the world was so perfect, you would've been mine by now, but that's not the case right?"
finally. no more tiptoeing the line of flirting. jaehyun had effectively ripped off the bandaid and laid out his true feelings about you.
"...but what about–"
"my wife? my kids? like I said, in a perfect world."
from the moment you walked into his office last summer like a wide eyed puppy, jaehyun knew he wanted you. you were a breath of fresh air. your positivity, your youthful energy, your ravishing looks. you were a slice of normalcy in his everyday hectic life. every time you walked into his office with that cute pep in your step made him forget about all of his worries at work and at home. it made him long for a timeline where you two could be together normally, without the pressure of keeping up appearances for his wealthy family. he had been born into a lifestyle that was already paved for him. sure, he loved his wife and kids and he loved running one of the top financial firms in the entire world. but deep down he craved a normal life. a life that he got to choose.
you both had finished up your dinner, and made your way back to your hotel rooms. in the elevator, you two had stood closely next to one another. your arms and hands were barely brushing each others, desperately wanting to make a move. the elevator dinged and you two stepped out.
once you reached your rooms, jaehyun spoke up breaking the silence.
"y/n, I had a wonderful time with you tonight. thanks for keeping me company."
you smiled, not really wanting the night to end just yet. "I really enjoyed myself sir, I've never had a dining experience like that before"
jaehyun stiffened slightly."y/n, my dear, I've been meaning to talk to you about this. you really don't have to be so formal with me, even at work. just jaehyun is perfectly fine"
"oh, im sorry sir–I mean...jaehyun. I just didn't want cross any boundaries that's all."
"no need to apologize, I appreciate your manners." jaehyun paused for a minute, deciding if he was going to act on his impulses.
he chose to do so.
"y/n, if you aren't too tired, you're more than welcome to join me on the balcony tonight. I always love to watch the stars late at night when I travel"
how could you turn that down?
"I'd really like that jaehyun" you said sweetly as you smiled up at him. he opened the door to his room and let you inside, looking around the hallway before closing the door.
you continued walking towards the French doors of the balcony and pushed them open. the cool night air felt amazing, cooling down your wine and pasta filled body. sure enough, you looked up at the night sky covering Milan and saw millions of bright stars. the scene took your breath away. who knew so much beauty existed in this big, crazy world.
you heard jaehyun's footsteps coming up behind you. he admired your goddess like form as you looked up at the night sky. you looked so beautiful like this, his tipsy state enhancing the feelings he already had for you. his feet moved faster than his brain and he came up behind you, brushing your hair over your shoulder.
you turned your head around to look up at him, eyes wide and filled with growing lust. he had taken off his suit jacket, leaving him in his dress shirt with a few loose buttons at the top and suit pants. his hair had gotten slightly messy, making him look absolutely irresistible.
the two of you made intense eye contact with one another, and before you knew it, you were in a passionate make out session with your boss. his large hands cupped your face, deepening the kiss. you kissed him back with everything you had in you. the months of stolen glances, sly remarks and heated exchanges all led up to this point. you didn't care that he was your boss, you didn't care that he had a family, all you cared about was how good his lips tasted against yours.
jaehyun lifted you up off of your feet and sat you on the bistro table. you leaned in to continue kissing him, but he stopped you in place by holding your jaw firmly with his hand.
"this ok, my dear? I can stop all of this if you want me to" he asked in a serious voice, staring down at your beautiful flustered face.
"yes please sir, just kiss me" you whined
jaehyun dove right back into kissing your lips. his tongue fought for dominance, winning effortlessly. you moaned when your tongues made contact, making you tilt your head back. his mouth followed your movements, making its way across your entire face. he kissed all over your cheeks and jawline. his lips eventually trailed up to your ear softly, making your eyes roll back.
"sweetheart, I told you, it's jaehyun" he whispered in your ear in his deep voice. he didn't want to think about work, he wanted to make this moment feel as real as possible.
he needed to hear you say his name.
he kissed down your neck slowly, in absolutely no rush. his hands trailed up and down your sides, asking for permission to see more of you. you grabbed the ties of your wrap dress and undid them, pushing the pieces of fabric to the side and off your shoulders. you pulled your arms out of the dress and it fell in a pool at your seated hips.
"I've wanted this–for so long my dear–you're absolutely–ravishing" jaehyun said between kisses. each kiss went lower and lower toward your bra clad cleavage. jaehyun reached around your back and undid your lacy black bra. he watched in awe as your round breasts dropped out of the cups of your bra. he wasted no time and roughly licked and kissed your boobs. you moaned out softly, the thought of being almost fully naked for your boss on a balcony in the middle of Milan sitting in the back of your mind.
the thought sent a rush of electricity to your clothed core.
he continued his ministrations with his mouth on your nipples, and his hand slowly trailed down your stomach, making its way into your panties. you let out of soft gasp, your hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. his fingers softly moved up and down on your pussy, allowing your clit to slowly warm up to his touch. after a while, he finally slipped two fingers into you, moving in and out of your body at a steady pace. you let out a delicious sound of satisfaction, leaning back on your hands.
"aww, when's the last time you let a real man touch you sweetheart, huh?" jaehyun's muffled voice asked against your breasts.
"fuck, I can't remember" you whined. every other man you had ever been with was inferior compared to jaehyun. you didn't even want to think about them.
he chuckled, "huh, that's because no man has EVER touched you the way I can. and they never will" he said darkly.
his fingers picked up the pace, making you let out a long, drawn out moan. he abruptly pulled his fingers out of your body and held them in front of his face. he observed them closely, making you clench around nothing.
"so messy, but I bet I could make you even messier"
he shoved his fingers into your mouth, and you eagerly lapped up your juices. you moaned at the taste of yourself, and looked jaehyun straight in his eyes. the sight of you two like this on the balcony for anyone to see was sinfully erotic.
you both wanted more.
he grabbed your hand and helped you on your feet. he slid your panties all the way off of your body, and you stepped out of them, leaving your heels on. your leaned up to kiss him again, and he smirked against your lips, smacking your ass as he tasted your arousal on his tongue.
you unbuttoned his dress shirt quickly, wanting to feel him already. he undid his expensive leather belt, tossing it to the side carelessly. he pulled the shirt off of his body, and turned you around so the front of your body was facing the railing of the balcony. you looked down at the city lights and cars beneath you, feeling a rush of euphoria. your braced yourself on the railing and pushed your ass out at him.
jaehyun bent down, spreading your cheeks, and licked a slow stripe from your clit to your ass. you let out a squeal of surprise and pushed back onto his face. he stood back up and pushed his pants and underwear down, gliding a hand down the slope of your back.
"how are we preventing pregnancy, my dear?" he asked, leaning down to your ear.
you reached around his head, holding his face next to yours. "I'm on the pill don't worry. please just..."
"shh my dear, I'm gonna take care of you, I promise."
jaehyun spat on his palm and rubbed it against your pussy.
"mmmmm please" you moaned out impatiently.
he jerked himself a few times with his saliva covered palm and lined his tip up with your entrance. he finally pushed in, and the two of you let out satisfied sounds. he gathered your hair into his hand and gripped it firmly. never pulling, just as a place holder.
his began to pick up the pace and soon enough you were overcome with intense pleasure. your hips pushed back against his, making your ass jiggle with each thrust. you let out a loud moan into the night, feeling like you were on top of the world. who knew you'd end up in Italy, bent over a balcony by none other than jeong jaehyun.
you fucking loved it.
"yeah that's it sweetheart scream for me. let all of Milan know what a fucking whore you are letting me fuck you like this" jaehyun encouraged you with a smirk.
you let out a squeal when he hit a particularly deep spot. you were so close to coming you could taste it.
"fuck say my name baby, let me hear it" jaehyun gritted out desperately.
"fuck jaehyun I'm right there please" you screamed out.
"shit!" jaehyun groaned out loudly and pulled you up by your hair. he pulled out of you, turned you around and picked you up. you let your legs wrap around his body as he carried you swiftly back into the hotel room.
you gasped loudly when you tossed you onto his large bed like you weighed nothing. he placed your legs over his shoulders and dove right back into your pussy without warning.
"ahhhh fuck" you moaned out. you were positive this was the loudest you'd ever been while having sex. no man had ever made you feel this good. it was absolutely sinful, but felt like heaven.
jaehyun nuzzled his face against your calf, placing soft kisses as he went.
"come on dear, give it to me. I wanna see you cum real pretty for me" jaehyun encouraged you.
those nasty words filled up all of your senses, instantly making you cum for him just like he wanted. he listened to your delicious sounds, your involuntary movements from your orgasm hypnotizing him. he wanted to keep this memory of you like this in his mind forever.
he pulled out of you as you came down from your high. sitting back on his heels to admire your sexy body.
“uh oh, look at the mess you’ve made sweetheart”
he reached down and wasted no time diving face first into your pussy.
you let out a high pitched scream, desperately trying to run away from his ravenous mouth to no avail thanks to his arms trapping your thighs in place.
“let me clean it up baby” he muffled out the filthy words against your overly sensitive clit.
you were sure you were having some kind of out of body experience. who knew pleasure of this magnitude existed. even if it was at the hands of a married man.
“sir—“
he pulled his mouth away from you slightly and firmly smacked your outer thigh, cutting you off.
“didn’t i just FUCKING tell you to not to call me that”
before you could correct your mistake he went right back into eating you out. you moaned a desperate plea out to him.
“ohhhh my god jaehyun please” your desperate voice went up a few octaves
you couldn’t hold on anymore and shortly after felt a rush of liquid shoot out of you. he licked you completely clean and tried his best to keep your hips from bucking around. you finally felt him pull away and you tried to catch your breath.
he got out of the bed and went into the bathroom briefly, leaving you to come down from your intense back-to-back highs. he came back to you with a warm washcloth and tried his hardest not to press on your sensitive bundle of nerves as he cleaned you up.
you muttered out a small “thank you” and he placed a gentle kiss on top of your head.
you must have dozed off for a few minutes because you woke up to him fully clothed, pulling his shoes back on. you sat up, still slightly spent from your session.
“wha? where are you going?” you asked him in a soft, sleepy voice, startling him slightly
“shh just go back to bed my dear” he said in a hushed tone
“but…but you didn’t get to cu—“
“don’t worry about it, now get some rest”
he grabbed a few of his belongings and quietly made his way out of his hotel room, leaving you speechless. jaehyun silently made his way to the elevator, heading down to the hotel bar. when the elevator doors shut he pulled out his phone.
2 missed calls: mrs.
you stood in the shower in your own hotel room, letting the hot water flowing from the shower head mix in with the hot tears streaming down your face.
what did you just do?
thanks for reading! please consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed the story 👑🍭
part two
1K notes · View notes