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ravenouswreckage · 4 months

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(( The more I think about it the more I realize there's an unspoken hierarchy to Miranda's partners, a hierarchy that's absolutely more natural to her in both her culture and in being a royal in their own specific subculture, but one that's a lot harder to describe to anyone else.

I think touch is a pretty good measure of it. Miranda does like to be touched and even has a preference for receiving, but most of her partners are discouraged from or just don't touch her. She can touch them and she gets them off, likewise getting off from more sight and a demonstration of her skills and the ability to pleasure someone else, but she doesn't want them to touch her. They are not allowed to touch her, and they are not allowed to enter her. They are her toys and she will do with them what she wants, but what she wants has very specific uses.

Partners that she likes more and is closer to, she allows to them to touch more or to enter her. This isn't to say she can't do so as a form of domination in its own right, but it's a different sort of preference, something that Miranda doesn't talk about. She doesn't talk about it or directly mention it, beyond telling people that they aren't allowed to touch her, or where she wants them to touch, but it's still there. Her preferred partners, those that she likes and wants the most, are most encouraged to touch her and to hold her, or even allowed to get a little rough with her.

Honestly, Miranda has... A complicated relationship with sex. There's already her existing sexual trauma, but then comes the cultural issues adding on top of it, making it hard for her to communicate intentions or emotions or even basic standards and wants. People don't understand things that are simple to her, and they don't understand why certain things are more complicated than they appear. She doesn't know how to communicate to landfolk what a casual merfolk fling looks like and how it's different from what she does with a landfolk, and she doesn't know how to talk about all of the tiny differences that make her tense up with a landfolk but be more than happy with another merfolk. Especially it doesn't help to add in her own trauma, and how her brain manages and compartmentalizes it in a merfolk lens that won't necessarily make sense to explain to a landfolk.

Especially not with how the land can treat her sometimes. It's often very rough for her, coming from a species and a culture which treats sex as a casual thing done for simple bonding and connection without a whole lot of pretense, a subculture which treats sex as a form of agreement that means that she has to be extra careful with even mentioning it without it potentially being used for blackmail or to lie about her, and going up to a place which often demeans her and treats her as an animal for her body and the way it functions, or fetishes her as less of a person and moreso just a sexual object. She can't do what she was taught to do without being labelled a prude, she can't do what her culture tells her is a simple social function without being labelled a freak or only isolated down to a sex object, she can't have sex in a way that doesn't feel upsetting or traumatizing to her without forcing someone through intense discussion of her people that she's not fully capable of doing and that they tell her to just stop before she even gets partially through it all.

She keeps getting conflicting messaging when it comes to social relationships and the merfolk relationship hierarchy, and that extends to sex too, where it feels like things break apart on too many axes for Miranda to ever truly want someone else to touch her.

#OOC.#HEADCANON.#(( mmmm as extrapolation on ''only very very few people will ever get miri being willing to sub for them''#(( everything in her life is complicated because everything in her life is Hard #(( she has so many problems all the time and the easiest solution #(( is just to go whole ham fulfilling her sadistic urges and making a willing sub into a piece of sexy furniture #(( or a living fleshlight #(( its easier if she doesnt allow them to touch her body or that kind of access to her #(( unfortunately that means shes direly lacking in people who will just lazily finger her and tell her how pretty of a princess she is #(( as they cuddle in bed #(( which yaknow. is like the knight kink.#(( she really really wants someone to just love her tbh

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ifandomalot · 4 years

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This is Love. (1/3)

Summary: Steve is captured by hydra, they use you as a toy for him. A sick game they play. He can't help but notice how much you hate touch, or any kind of human interaction. When his team rescues him, he takes you with him and shows you what love is.

Warnings: unexpected pregnancy eventuality, kidnapping, blood, and unwanted sex by both parties? But it doesn't go to much into detail. But i dont know how to categorize it. This is dark but soft. Also my grammar mistakes.

Part 2 / Part 3 (coming soon)

Steve doesn't remember much, the aching pain against the roundest part of his skull was the only thought manageable. Shaky fingers running over the clumps of blood that matted his hair, stables fusing the gash closed. His eyes take in the room around him, no windows, the only light is small lamp that illuminates the small corner of the room by the bed he currently say up on. The walls are a dull gray, the floor matching, the cement seemed as it ran for miles. A door is on the far right, heavy duty, not even a super solider could break it down.

His tact suit is gone, a plain white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweat pants clad his body, no shoes just a tall pair of socks that bundle against ankles. The throbbing inside his skull seems like the worst of his worries as his eyes scan the room, no way out. The small camera in the corner follows his every move. "Whoever you are, you've made a mistake."

Thick arms across against his swollen chest in dominace, trying to assert some kind of fear into the situation. It's no use, no one is there or obviously cares enough to call a bluff. A small stack of books are next to the sink, fingers run down the ridged brindle of the book, noticing the german writing. Hydra.

Steve's face moves in frustration, body growing taller as he realizes the situation, hydra had finally managed to do it, they got him. A small growl rumbles deep inside the roughness of his chest, fist meeting the cement wall in anger, the blood didn't bother him, the pain non existent. He steps over the crumbled pieces of the wall before looking right into the camera. "If you think I'll stay here peacefully, you're mistaken. I will punch my way out of here."

His feet start towards the carving he made in the wall but peeks his head towards the door listening to the gliding of locks. He stands tall, expecting someone to send in some poor bastard that was meant to tell him to behave but would only meet death in the hands of him.

Much to his surprise, a female thrown into the room, falling next to his feet. Adrenline was too high, he couldn't think straight. His body telling him this was a trick but mind realizing how similarly dressed they were.She was here as a prisoner too.

"Are you okay?" Steve's voice is rough, making you flinch but scatter away from him as his hands reached out to help you up.

An unsettling feeling is ripped deep inside his stomach, bubbling red hot as he notices the darkness behind your eyes. Nothing was there, a shell of a human. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Avoiding eye contact at all cost, you pull your knees to your chest, head resting against the hard shell of knees. What did they do to this girl?

Steve's eyes run over the soft features, skin with no wrinkles, big doe eyes avoiding him. Cheeks so lively, warm with color and lips that just resembled youth. Hair was beautifully knotless, curtaining past your shoulders, small shoulders that formed into the valley of your breast, no older than 23.

He decides to keep his distance, but drops to his knees to size you. Hoping that with being eye level would make himself look less scary, dominating even. "What's your name?"

When she doesnt answer he sighs, "I'm Steve."

Before he gets a chance to speak again, a loud crackling echos the room, source the camera. "Do you like her steve? She's yours."

"Mine? What?" Eyes don't leave you, he doesn't speak for the camera, more like asking himself.

"We want to be friends with you Steve. Give us your blood and you can do whatever you want with her."

He notices how fast your chest begins to move, a small choked sound constricting from your throat. The voice the reason for the anxiousness, scaring you.

"Stop talking." Steve hisses, "i will never give you my blood and you're scaring her."

"Have it your way then." All of a sudden the small light is gone, the room is completely black, the clicking of the locks telling him someone is coming. The door hit the wall with a large thump, he swore it shook the room, he stands arms reaching out trying to get a hold of something, if something was there. A large arm reaches around his neck, before he could even react the sharp pain of a needle in his neck has him out cold.

The second time waking up was easier, his body still in full fight mode as he jumped up, trying to locate the danger. Quickly realizing it was gone, and he was alone once again. The days started to form into a week, he's given no food, forced to drink water from the leaking sink in the block room - it drives him crazy, drip, drip, drip. Stomach painfully twisting as a tray is slid from under the door- a small piece of bread, what looked like chicken broth and a banana, better then nothing at all. His mouth salivates at the salty smell of the warm soup filling his nose, almost dizzy from the lack of food. It must be his lucky day, a few hours later lunch is there too. A sandwich with an apple, they even have him a cup to drink his sink water out of.

Dinner isn't existent, but for once this whole week he is not weak, stomach not painfully squeezing inside of him. Hes not full, but satisfied. The echoing of foot steps followed by the shuffling of a shadow behind the door thinking its a late dinner but the locks unhinge, the woman revealed, two large men standing behind you as you walked in.

Steve eyes meet your face as the door is closed, your eyes avoid him at all costs. Hair perfectly flowly, features even softer than before, might even say a sight for sore eyes that have been staring at half understandable words on a page and cement walls. Except for once small detail, a countless amount of bruising ranging from small to big across your arms, most likely from the men roughing you up, grabbing harshly at the small girl.

"Hey are you okay?" He is surprised by the small squeak of a yes as you finally talk. "Why are you here?"

"I, ugh - don't know." Shakily you cross arms across the swells of your breast, a surivial instinct, protecting most vital organs. Steve chooses to ignore it, "what's your name?"

"Y/N." Its softly spoken, but a name that fits you very well. The soft patter of drops against the sink, the only sound filling the room as you finally meet his eyes. Beautiful ocean waves, big blue skies being the only words that come to mind. His features are hard bit form a devilishly handsome man, but eyes so soft reminding you of the beautiful things in life.

"Did they feed you? I have an apple left from earlier." The large red apple looks so small in his gigantic hand. You shake your head, "No, I'm okay."

"You can sit down. Do you know where we are?"

"No, I'm okay." The honest truth is men scared you, especially the largely built one who stood with so much strength that you backed away from him.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not like them."

"I just don't want you by me."

Steve nods in understanding, forehead creasing i though as his tongue runs over his lips as he looks around the room. "You can sit on the bed, I'm going to go over here."

Steve points to the opposite corner of the room, "I'm going to move now, you don't have to be scared." You want to thank him for the warning but bite your tongue and nod, making sure he reaches the other side of the room before routing yourself to the pathetic excuse of the bed.

"I see you're getting along." The voice rings from the camera as Steve's eyes squint in annoyance. He decides not to play in, his gaze burns against your skin. It wasn't in a way that was uncomfortable, but he wanted to test you, ask you questions you wouldn't answer.

"She's a gift for you steve, aren't you lonely? we want to be your friends." Steve scoffs, "last time i checked, friends don't lock each other in prisons."

"You can do whatever you want with her." The voice darkenly is suggestive with unlawful thoughts, a concept as dark as that doesn't even register in his mind.

"What does that even mean?"

"We want you to take her." Steve's forehead creases in confusion, fingers stretching lines across his forehead, but when met with the horrified look on your face realization hits him like a ton of bricks, crushing his chest. Stomach clenching as he feels sick, was this normal for you to do?

The captures realized Steve wasn't going to just give up his blood, he also wouldn't take what they gifted him. Steve Rogers was a man of a moral code, the best kind of man mixed with a gentleman, that would never hurt a lady but wouldn't ever allow one to die because of his hand either. "If you don't fuck her, we will kill her."

They will strip away every part that is good of him, take away every moral and goodness this man has, starting with taking away the fact that he has a choice on who he sleeps with. Steve's ocean blues meet yours in panic, chest tight, he couldn't breath at the suggestion.

"No."

"She will die, and it will be because of you. You could've saved her Steve." This isn't right, the giant pit in his stomach screaming in horror as the words leave your mouth, "it's okay steve."

Your welcoming this, accepting it is survival but he isn't standing for it. His eyes water, he feels sick, taking away the one sense of security you posses, your choice and willing accepting that is gone. "No. I am not doing that."

"You're doing to let me die?" No, he wasn't going to that either. "They're not lying, they will slit my throat the moment I walk out of here."

"You can't even look in my eyes let alone do this!" Feelings getting the best of him as the wall crumbles underneath his power, bloody knuckles spreading the redness across his face as he rubs it stressfully.

"You have 30 seconds Steven." The voice warns, threatening is more like it.

"It's okay, i know you won't hurt me." Your soft voice is what makes him really choke up, an angel that didnt deserve this. Steve's weight is on top of you, his hand pressed against the matress supporting most of it. A hand so shaky he can't even pull at the strings of your sweats so instead you pull them down revealing what should be your choice to him.

"I am so sorry." It was a choked sob filled with so much sadness, a gruff from the chest that made even your heart break for him right now. He closes his eyes, preventing the tears from falling but in a forced moment like this, couldn't find himself to find excitment, but the fact that this was going to be life or death out weighed his feelings.

It was a small kiss, a peck barely there against his clothed shoulder made him gasp, not expecting the comfort in this moment. You of all people, comforting him, a sobbing mess of a man while your innocence he was taking unwillingly. The wetness of his tears meeting your cheeks, sliding down as he pushes into you and with that his heart breaking.

It continued for days, over and over again they make him get to know every part of your body, he begs them to stop, you tell him its okay, that this is how it has to be, but he can't take it. Sleeping soundly he watches you, peacefully in a peaceful world unlike this one. You don't care much for his touch, but sleep is the one place you don't scower from it. Its hard not to be close, the twin matress making it nearly impossible to not touch. The dark blush of the bruising is starting to fade, hand softly rubbing over the skin as you breath heavily. Chest is moving with every breath, lips slightly parted, beautiful.

Warm against him, he is glad you can sleep. It's been days since he has, guilt eating him alive, which is exactly what they want. They will continue to make him disgrace you until he breaks and allows them to give him the blood, and willingly participates in their experiments. The loud sound of cement crumbling following loud booms makes him clutch you close to his chest, back facing the door to protect you at all costs. Your awake now, breathing heavily into the chest as the sound of bullets ripple from outside of the door he coos. "Its okay, its okay. I'll protect you."

Nothing else is said as the fight outside continues until it stops, you look up at him, looking for answers until eyes widen in fear as the locks of the door sound. They were coming back for you. Steve turns, pushing you behind him as he stands tall, a man ready to fight.

"Buck?" It's just above a whisper as a tall man, almost as big as him stands. A metal arm, long black hair that reaches his shoulders.

"Steve we got to go." The girl is only noticeable when he reaches around to grab your hand, Bucky notices the messy hair, dried lips and the dark bruising against your arms. "She's coming with us."

The sunlight hurts, you cover your eyes quickly as you almost stumble to your knees trying to keep up with the two large men as bullets wiz past. Steve's arms are lifting you by the waist, nudging you to get back up. The quinjet sits only feet away, a tall, dark man yelling incoherent sounds over the swooshing of the blades in the air. In seconds the metal of the floor is cold against bare feet, door closing, it was safe.

Taking a deep breath your eyes running over the tower of Steve as the jet takes off. Bucky can't help but notice the shortening of breath from the small girl, coldness of the metal arm making you jump away in shock, "are you okay?"

"n-no!"

"Buck, buck, don't." Steve reaches for him, taking the artificial touch from her. "She doesn't like being touched. "

You feel trapped in here, three large men making it suffocating in this tiny box, that some how seemed even more freeing than the one you've grown so used to despite being high in the clouds.

"Breathe sweetheart." Steve coos, sinking down to your size, arms reaching out but not quite touching. "Its just me, my touch is good."

His touch is filled with unwanting pleasure, a reminder of what was taken away from you but also a certain gentleness that made you feel safe and secure. You don't let him touch you but nod at his words, following the rythm of his breathing from the pattern of his chest.

"What the fuck happened there?" Bucky wanted to say what the fuck is wrong with you but noticed how uncomfortable you already were.

"I just need to sit down." Steve looked broken as well as he sat finally, still feet away from you. Hands rubbing over his face, as a small cry feel from his lips. Any other time being captured by enemy lines wouldn't even affect him, but he didn't feel like the same man, he was a disgusting excuse of one that fell victim to them, they might have not gotten his blood but did strip the one piece of him he held dearly: his moral code.

Bucky chest squeezes as his best friends sorrow, hand meeting his back, rubbing soft circles of comfort. You watch every second of it, this was bound to happen, you saw the change every time he was forced to touch you, the breaking away of his head, of what he stood for but most of wishing you could accept touch like that, comfort, but any man that touched you only brought pain, physically and in the cause mentally. The ride was quiet once Steve managed to stop crying, didn't dare to talk, the emotion still raw in his chest, afraid it would start again. Once on the ground, a group of people surround him, hugs, kisses to his cheeks. Once again you were envy of his acceptance, the thought making you sick. Steve showed you to a room, placing a pair of what looked like his clothes at the end of the freshly made bed. "You can lock the door when I leave if you'll feel safer." Nails nervously scratching the back of his neck, "You can shower, and if you need me I'm right across the hall, goodnight."

Steve wanted to talk, apologize for what he had done to you but didn't also thought the events of today were enough, you deserved a goodnights rest.

Steve's clothing hung loosely from wet skin, the sweats needed to be rolled, sweater reaching mid-thigh. Sleep did not come easy, noisy sounds of the busy city, honks, and whizzing cars, something you weren't used to being secluded for so long. Anxiety bubbling deep inside your chest, burning your skin. The constant fear that they would come back for you, take you away with just a taste of this freedom.

It was strange but you missed the security, the sense of being protected by him, a feeling you have never felt before. Quietly you enter his room, he's not sleeping just deep in thought as he stares at the ceiling, not noticing your entrance.

"Steve?" Rolling your hands nervously into sweater paws as looks at you with worry. "What's wrong?"

He's sitting up now, ready for anything, trying to figure out the emotions of your face you keep so guarded. "I can't sleep."

He lays back down, hand extending opening the covers to allow you in. Thankfully he doesn't try to touch you. Running over the defined features of his face, ocean eyes so soft. For the first time ever he looks relaxed despite the dark circles under his eyes, the ocean surrounded by a deep red of regret, disgust in himself. He offers a sweet smile, which you can't find yourself to return but try your best.

Closing your eyes feels nice, his breath in your ear, you feel safe as you slip into a world of peacefulness. But not before hearing, "I'm sorry. Sweet dreams sweetheart."

Note: if you want to be tagged in the next two parts, comment below! Part 2 comes with the reader learning to accept his touch and unexpected surprise.

#stever rogers imagine #steve x reader #steve rogers #chris evans imagine #chris evans #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction

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fxckbritts · 3 years

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Black Widow || Quitt

TAGGING: Quinn Fabray & Brittany Pierce

WHEN: March 29th

WHERE: Quinn’s dorm room

GENERAL NOTES: Post mass text talking.

WARNINGS: None

Brittany: It had taken a lot of asking around and even more threatening to break wrists to finally work out exactly where Quinn's dorm room was. All of this could be a lot easier if the girl could answer a damn text message, but Brittany couldn't hold that against her. She assumed the last thing Quinn wanted to do right now was look at her phone. This whole situation was just so fucked up, and Santana was right. Brittany had to at least get over herself and check to see if she was okay. Though she wasn't a talker and she certainly didn't usually feel empathy towards anyone - she did feel bad. Hell really did freeze over sometimes.

"Quinn.... Quinn, it's me. Open the damn door," Brittany knocked on the door, testing to no avail if the door was unlocked. Of course it wasn't. "I'll break it down.... Quinn?"

Quinn: Quinn wanted to die. Not really- but she really did want to live in this dorm for the rest of her life, or at least until her shame was gone. Maybe she'd become like Emily Dickinson, only taking visitors through the door so she never had to look someone in the eye again. Although, she might have to move home to do that, and she really would rather die than tell her parents she was gay. Sorta gay? She had no label for it.

Of course Brittany was at the door. She groaned and sat up, wrapping her comforter around her like it might hide her shame. Or shield her from prying eyes. "Just... go away." She grumbled, opening the door. She was kind of curious to see if this had effected Britt as much. "I'm not in the mood for more.. sex after it ruined my life."

Brittany: Brittany let out a low sigh. Quinn wasn’t really being too far fetched for assuming she was there for something like that. After all, the pair of them hadn’t actually had much of any conversation between them that didn’t involve them fucking.

“That’s not-“ Brittany started before letting out a long breath from her nose and resting both her palms against either side of the doorframe. “I just wanted to..... talk. See if you’re-...” she broke off and glanced down the hallway to see if there were any prying eyes. “Look, just let me in... Please?”

Quinn: Was she in an alternate universe? Brittany was seriously trying to be nice.. or something? She could follow Brittanys eyeline, and she also felt quite exposed out here. Too many people could see- and the last thing she wanted was more rumors. Reluctantly, she stepped back a little, opening the door enough for Brittany to step in.

"Fine. Come in, but its only talking." She said, pursing her lips a little, and resisting the urge to actually become one with her blanket. "I don't even see what there is to talk about- my life is over."

Brittany: Brittany was thankful that Quinn allowed her to actually go inside and she jumped at the chance, quickly slipping inside so they could shut the door behind the both of them. She turned around on her heel and gave the other girl a quick once over. Brittany's eyes softened a little at the sight of Quinn bundled up as though the comforter was bubblewrap that was going to protect her from whatever was the other side of her apartment walls.

Brittany let a slow breath out through her nose and her lips curled into a small smile. "Your life isn't exactly over. That's... A little dramatic isn't it?" She stepped forward and attempted to unfurl Quinn's cocoon. "I don't even think most people believe anything my cousin says, anyway."

She took a step back, dropping the whole coy act for a somewhat softer and more serious approach. "I'm.. Sorry. I didn't mean for any of.... This crap,"

Quinn: Quinn reluctantly let Brittany loosen the blanket around her- she was feeling a little less like a pariah with someone in the room. "Its a rumor- about me. People don't care if its true or not. Sam might still even have the photo of it." She sighed, "I didn't want people to know.. like ever. I wasn't even going to act on it, ever either."

Was it terrible to admit that Brittany was a mistake? She certainly felt bad about it. Underneath all the.. skank, Quinn did feel appreciated by Brittany. Those moments mattered. "Its fine, it's Sam's fault, really. I shouldn't have told him that it was me in that picture. At least its not as big of a deal if you're gay." She thought on her statement for a moment, deflating a little, "Sorry. Its.. not easy no matter who has to go through it."

Brittany: Brittany's eyebrows flinched into a burrow at the mention of a photo. She didn't want to know how, what or even why her cousin had a photo. With that little piece of information, it did seem like him rambling like an idiot over texts was perhaps best case scenario when it came to him fucking everything up for someone.. Again.

"Nah people know.. About me." Brittany raised her hand to brush it off before stepping back to sit on the side of Quinn's bed, her hands tangled at the fingers between her knees. Brittany had just assumed through the whole thing that Quinn had been straight - and that was the fun part for her. Having a few wild nights with a straight girl and have it left at that. The idea that it was something Quinn didn't intent to act upon led her to believe that this had been more than that. More complicated.

"Look I-..." She started before exhaling through her nose, "I haven't really had anyone to care about that kinda shit with me so I can't relate to how this feels... Or whatever," She shrugged, looking up from her hands to access Quinn's face. Even visibly upset, she was beautiful. "But know I'm in your corner. Even if you don't want me to be," She added with a small smirk.

Quinn: Green eyes watched cautiously- Brittany wasn't exactly the most open, or the kind of person Quinn would pick as a friend/confidant, but it was oddly comforting to have her here.

"It just.. feels shit. I never want to leave this room- I don't even know how many people know. None of it is in my control." This was suddenly a lot more real than their semi-drunken moments in that Miami room, and Quinn found herself almost leaning into it. She wanted Brittany touch and comfort- and that was giving her a headache. Didn't she have enough to deal with as is? "But..Thanks. I appreciate- It's really nice of you to be here. No one else has been by to just support me."

Brittany: ”No ones saying much so I can’t tell you who knows... I think they assume I’m gonna beat ‘em up,” Brittany half shrugged with a coy smile.

She was a little surprised to hear that no one else had attempted to see her. From what she had seen, Quinn was smart, well liked and looked the way she did - not to mention the praises Puck had sung for her. The kind of person that people should be wanting to check up on.

“You know you can’t haul up in here forever,” Brittany insisted, wanting to get up to pull the comforter off Quinn the rest of the way. Would she want a hug? Would she want something else? Brittany had never really comforted anyone before, unless that comfort was fucking to forget. “And you have a nice smile. It would be a shame.. not to see that again,”

Quinn: This was weird, talking with Brittany. She almost missed the physical contact instead- so she shuffed imperceptibly closer, dropping her blanket hood completely to rest her head on Brittany's shoulder. "Will you beat them up?"

Its terrible- but it would make her feel better. She has no idea how shes going to deal with the whispers, let alone if people actually talk to her. "I want to." She pouts- but Brittany is right. Sooner or later shes going to have to face the texts piling up on her phone.

"You like my smile?" She asks weakly. Shes a pretty girl- and she knows that. Shes just not used to actual compliments, and the things her parents used to say about her appearance play in her head from time to time. Its humbling. "Maybe I'll just camp out for a few more days- it doesnt hurt to let the worst of it blow over, right?"

Brittany: "If you say the word, I'll beat anyone up," the corner of Brittany's mouth curled up into a small smile when Quinn's head fell onto her shoulder and after just a beat, she attempted to move the blanket from Quinn's shoulders to snake an arm around her.

"A few days would be fine, but any more than that.. People will start thinking I killed you like a black widow. Dragging you into my web and sucking the life out of you. The way rumors go in this hell hole of a college, it sound about the right tone," Brittany mumbled with a grimace. With the things people had said about her after the scholarship students enrolled, she knew it would only be a matter of time before the student body found some new juicy gossip to latch onto and forget all about this mess.

"Mhm, I do," she admitted, pulling back from the embrace just enough to use her hand to tilt Quinn's chin up to fully see her face. With her thumb, she traced the outline of her lower lip, the rather pleasant memories of Miami flooding her mind. "You're wonderful, so fuck anyone who will make you feel anything less, okay?"

Quinn: Okay, this was really nice having someone fully and truly in her corner. She knew that Britt wasn't doing this because of any reason but she wanted to be here. "You don't want to sound like the badass that literally ate one of the most popular girls here?"

With the arm around her, and those blue eyes staring at her, and the thumb tracing her lip, how could Quinn say anything but a whispered, "Kiss me, please." Bringing her own hand up to meet at Brittany's jaw, "Or hold me. Just... make me feel good like before?"

Brittany: "I'm already the badass that ate out one of the most popular girls at McKinley, but I don't think they wanna know the details," Brittany couldn't help the smug smile and raise of her brow. Maybe one day soon they would be at the place where they could look back at all of this and find it amusing, but it was a matter of time. Or even if that never happened - Brittany would be okay with that. With the history with everyone in her life, she had no expectations.

Her eyes softened at Quinn's plea, leaning into the warm palm on her face. This wasn't a drunken mess or a egotistical conquest and Brittany didn't hesitate for a second before replying "I can do that," Bringing their lips together, the blanket fell from Quinn entirely as Brittany maneuvered her over to the bed. She wouldn't be able to do or say anything to make things outside of the dorm room better, but this she could do. Even if it was just for a little while.

#para #001 #quinn!para

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taki118 · 4 years

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How I would have adapted Cats for a movie

So first off the hybrid live action and animation is the WORST choice for this movie. Cats is a spectacle play at its core. The audience can basically forgive everything that’s odd about it cause they’re watching people doing some insane dancing and stunts. The options are

1- live action with makeup and costumes like the play only with a better budget. This works for spectacle in the “Hey that’s cool looking dance” or “wow look at that makeup.” kind of way 2- full animation on a sliding scale of realistic to anthro I’d go somewhere in the middle. The spectacle here being the animation on display go real hardcore, do some really cool stuff with the medium.

Going with the cgi on live action takes away from BOTH no one is really impressed by what people are doing cause well cgi can enhance it making it feel less impressive and anything done animation wise is limited due the constraints of a human body (it’s why rotoscoping isn’t really done)

Now while I think the better choice is animation I’d sadly have to go with live action using makeup and costumes as for whatever reason animation is still “kids stuff” and not an art form over here (not bitter at all)

So I think the idea of making Victoria the white cat an audience surrogate was a good choice. How they implemented it by making her a focus character was the wrong one. Cats is an ensemble play their is no main character, there’s characters of varying importance but no main. When you get down to it the plot is a bunch of cats hang together one night for a special event there’s no real arc it’s a slice of life piece at most. So yes to a character new to all this to explain to them rather than directly to the audience like the play. No to making her have a journey.

I would also cut/shorten and re order a LOT of the songs for pacing reasons. Most of the songs do not need to be as long as they are the length is primarily to show off the dancers in the play. Release the full songs with the celebrities in cd after or whatever. This change would allow the cast to breath and talk to give context between songs

In MY version I’d start with Victoria but not by having her thrown out. Have her in a house that’s clearly just been moved into and her looking out to see many cats all going in one direction and being confused/curious she leaves the house and meets up with a group. I’d have the group be Munkustrap, Demeter (I could rant about her being a non entity in the movie but won’t), Alonzo, Jellylorum and one other cat maybe Bill Bailey or Cassandra , for reasons I’ll explain later. (And I realize these names mean nothing haha) They tell her it’s the ball asking if she’s a Jellicle cat and her asking what that is. Thus the song starts as the cats make their way to the junkyard excitedly all saying what it means to be a Jellicle.

Then I’d have Munkustrap take center stage singing about what’s to come and trying to help the others as they prepare the junkyard and have Victoria introduced to the shy Quaxo. As things begin to settle and Munkustrap tries to get the cats settled Rum Tum Tugger appears disrupting everything with his song. His fun is stopped when old Deuteronomy appears causing all the cats to go quite in respect and that song begins with Munkustrap then goes duet with Rum Tum Tugger.

Deuteronomy notices the new cat and approaches her welcoming her to the tribe (cause they’re cats its that easy). Then reprise of the Jellicle song as the ball begins big dance number lots of energy and fun dancing and little character moments. Then it stops we’d pan to Victoria who’s confused hearing all the hissing and is pulled back by Quaxo, Grizabella makes her first appearance.

The song about her is sung and Victoria noticeably wants to reach out to her but is stopped. Grizabella leaves and Munkustrap refocuses everyone reminding them why they are here to make the choice the group I mentioned before all stand beside him. Victoria asks about the choice and Quaxo explains saying each of the heads makes a nomination but Deuteronomy chooses he also expresses his desire to show his talents in magic and be noticed. Rum Tum Tugger interrupts by saying something like you’ll never be noticed sitting in the shadows or something.

Now this is a bit of a departure as Munkustrap is typically the one to narrate all the songs but I think this serves to help round the cast out and add some character as each showcase what they feel is impressive. So Munkustrap starts by nominating Jennyanydots and her song begins

Another change would be a scene change for each nomination showing them in their setting, the implication being the narrators singing is bringing the tale to life.

Next would be Bustopher Jones by Alonzo or Bill Bailey. Then Demeter would stop the fun going tense and shouting Macvity! They all run and hide but Victoria in her curiosity leaves her hiding place early and looks finding Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer rifling the ball. The song would be much shorter than normal the older cats cutting them off and chastising them. While old Deuteronomy sings reminding them all of the importance of the night and choice. As Grizabella looks on from a distance.

Next comes Alonzo or Cassandra’s choice Skimbleshanks. Then Jellylorum’s choice Gus the theater cat his song is different from the others however in that they do his old play and as it goes on the more real it becomes, the play starting with the cats in make shift costumes and props from garbage but as it goes on they’re really in costumes and such.

All the cats applaud his performance and begin to dance once more when Grizabella appears again this time however Victoria follows her as she walks away watching as she tries to dance and sings “Memory”. Victoria is stopped from helping by a saddened Deuteronomy who brings her back, unknown to her and the rest Macavity takes Deuteronomy and replaces him. The ball continues as they all discuss who it will be. When Demeter once more shouts Macavity! Munkustrap tries to calm her and Victoria asks who he is. She begins the Macavity song.

Now if Taylor NEEEDS to be a femme fatale we have Demeter singing her part as a warning but Bombalurina is singing like it’s not a big deal and telling everyone not to worry her side winning out and boom trap.

BUT I wouldn’t do that keep Bombalurina as big sis material. Her part would be placating though as Deuteronomy, Macavity in disguise, follows doing the same.

Either way Demeter’s senses are right and when he’s placating them all she lunges revealing his disguise then he tries to take her too and fight breaks out.

When Macavity escapes he shouts “you’d have an easier time conjuring the cat back than finding him” They are left licking their wounds in despair.

Then Victoria pushes Quaxo saying “can’t you do magic?” He shyly shakes his head when Rum Tum Tugger jumps in and says “Him no! Now the magical Mr. Mistoffelees he could.” and winks to him, the pair scurry off as Rum Tum Tugger begins the song to the unimpressed crowd and they reappear dressed as magician and assistant starting slow as Quaxo gains confidence and we have Victoria showcase her dancing, once they all start cheering him on and the music picks up Deuteronomy appears confused but happy as everyone rejoices. Rum Tum Tugger gives Quaxo a pat on the back and Victoria hugs him.

Deuteronomy and Munkustrap calm them all again singing of the choice when Victoria notices Grizabella. I got two ideas here

1 Victoria herself nominates Grizabella risking her new place by singing memory with her 2 Victoria convinces Demeter to do so as she hadn’t made a nomination (in the play Demeter is often sympathetic to Grizabella) she sings while Victoria dances with her

Either way Deuteronomy lets Victoria know it’s ok to touch her welcoming her back and the cats embrace her knowing the choice was made. They sing her off, as she approaches the light she asks Deuteronomy what’s on the other side? The response is “happiness” she smiles a bright light takes the screen and they all rejoice in tears. Victoria sits with Deuteronomy who recounts the nights events saying she will make a great Jellicle cat, then pans to the sun rising and the cats retuning home.

And thats how i’d do it.

We get all the main songs, chances for everyone to show off a bit, a fairly straightforward plot but with a satisfying end, lots of chances for fun cinematography and would make an easier viewing experience. I think the biggest problem with the movie is they tried to make something nonsensical make sense and to give a traditional structure to a play that didnt have one and it just doesnt work.

(Oh also in my version Munkustrap and Demeter are blatantly a couple and are always doing cute shit in the background cause fuck you they’re adorable!)

#cats 2019 #cats musical #musicals #rewrite #cats

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cherryplasmids · 6 years

Text

☆ woeful pressures ☆

pairing: daenerys targaryen x reader fandom: game of thrones anon request: hi can u do a dany x reader where the reader is from a noble/royal family and dany and her have been lovers since childhood but what dany doesnt know is that the reader has been pressured all her life into being like perfect royalty and its really getting to her and dany tries to stop her from like jumping off a cliff?? ik its a harsh topic so its okay if u dont write it :)) notes: TRIGGER WARNING (suicidal thoughts/attempt) — dorhaven is a made up place. — btw, the ending is kinda trash. I didn’t know how to end it.

—check out my other works; masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Kingdom of Dorhaven exceeded any written or artistic interpretation expressed based on its beauty. It appeared unreal at times, a fantasy unworthy of everyone who did not reside there. Everything in the region exuded absolute charming allure; the magnificent scenery, vast seas of peculiar cornflower-blue, rare species of flora and fauna, and the breathtaking indigenous people and their culture.

Daenerys was extremely grateful every time she was invited over to meet with the royal family of Dorhaven. They had been incredibly kind to her ever since her youth, taking her in as their own in her time of need. And they trusted her. From the past to the present, they promised their loyalty to her cause of creating a harmonious Westeros future. In a time where loyalty is constantly questioned, Daenerys was absolutely thrilled of having allies who were nothing but loyal. It certainly didn’t hurt that Dorhaven had the most beautiful princess in all of Westeros history.

Y/N was the exact symbol of sexy and graceful. She was everything everyone could ever want, including Daenerys. The Dragon Queen fought tooth and nail to get the princess to notice her and eventually court her. And once they did begin a relationship, nothing but utter love and worship spurred by it. Daenerys entire dream of sitting on the Iron Throne was because of you. If Cersei wins the war, Dorhaven, an incredibly rich region with extremely fertile land and numerous of wealth advantages over the other important cities of Westeros, would be under her command. She would purge the untainted area with her hateful, envious, and selfish agendas. The peaceful Kingdom of Dorhaven would collapse and become a nostalgic memory of harmony and prosperity.

Daenerys and her allies would stop at nothing in order to keep that disgusting possibility from occurring.

The unusual colored seas crashed against the tan cliff, foaming after the sudden impact. Daenerys had been watching it for quite some time from her bedroom window until you walked into her line of sight. It was such a serene sight, calming Daenerys and ridding of all the worries of impending, inevitable wars. An adoring smile set itself on her lips and after a few moments, she removed her eyes from the scene in order to give yourself some privacy.

He eyes did land on her untidy desk in which she decided to clear it up since you would be coming over later. You disliked disorganization. She shuffled between opened and closed letters from Tyrion, Jorah, and even Jon Snow. She knew each of them would be worried since she did go to Dorhaven alone without any sort of Dothraki guards to protect her. She would respond to them later after another day of rest since she wanted her attention solely on you.

When Daenerys was just about finished with cleaning, her hand grazed over a sealed letter from you which was addressed to her. With curiosity eating at her, she delicately rips open the seal and begins reading what you wrote.

My Love,

It has been over seven moons since I last saw you and the weight of the world seems not only to crash on your shoulders but mine as well.

It seems rather pathetic to even compare my troubles to yours, but when have I ever been short of being pathetic? You have several wars to worry about, as well as your inevitable coronation as Queen of the Andals and the First Men. No one would be prouder than I would be. However, I do not believe I would be attending such grand occasion. It would not be right for me to taint such a glorious moment.

Seven Moons. Seven moons since I had last laid unclothed against your bare chest. Seven moons since I had last kissed your lips with such fiery passion that the gods themselves have envied. Seven moons since I whispered indecent words that left you shaking underneath my touch. Seven moons since I last felt at ease and worthy.

The pressures of being royalty have finally have caught up, my dear. My father is ill and my mother grows old. They speak of my coronation date, which set to the near future. I am not ready for such event, for the responsibility of protecting the Kingdom and all of its inhabitants. The mere thought frightens me. I am not you, Daenerys. I was not destined for a prosperous reign where everyone loved me. I am supposed to be hidden in the shadows, behind my family’s fortune and your increasing success. I am simply unworthy to be anything more.

It is easier to be rid of me than pity me. And with my final action, I will undo all the burden I bestowed upon my family, the nation, and most importantly, you.

This is my last goodbye, Y/N

Daenerys throws the paper away from her as if It burned her. She clutches the fabric around her chest, wanting to hold her heart in order to ease the pain. Quickly dashing to the window, she observes the extremely small distance between Y/N and the edge of the cliff. The tears she had been attempting to hold in, suddenly releases as Daenerys begins sprinting towards her depressed lover.

She felt utterly devastated and blamed herself for Y/N’s overwhelming sadness. You had been incredibly helpful throughout Daenerys road to vengeance and rightful claim to the Iron Throne. On numerous occasions, You had helped her through self-loathing and mental breakdowns. There had been so many times where she wanted to give up and settle down in Braavos or Meereen, but you would bring her back to a state of ease. She credited all her success to you and all the late night reassurance.

And yet, when you needed her most, she disregarded it. She never observed the way you were too tired of simply activities or would excuse yourself from dinner. She never noticed the fact that it was her doing all the talking with you simply listening and not interrupting her in awe. She began noting every single behavioral change you exemplified and silently reprimanded herself for being immensely obtuse.

But right now, all she needed to do was to protect you from yourself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The wind whipped gently around you as you took steps toward the edge of the cliff. You peered down, watching the unidentifiable creatures bask in the cool foam the waves created. Their delightful purrs used to make you smile, but now, it doesn’t stir a single emotion. Nowadays, nothing made you emotional.You were tired and no extensive sleep schedule would cure it. Only one thing would, which is exactly why you were at a cliff. It had taken you months for the courage to actually get this close to the edge. All you needed now was a few moments of bravery to jump, or at least walk off.

However, now that you stood at the edge, inspecting the view down to your ultimate final destination, you hesitated. Did you really want this? It appeared to be a good idea days ago, but not anymore. Was death your desire? No, it wasn’t. You simply wanted to escape all the pressures of being future Queen and head of your house. It was a terrible burden and no matter how much your family attempted to mask it, it was clear as day. Your parents wanted to continue the legacy, but you believed you would be the cause of its downfall. No, you felt unworthy of having the responsibility of protecting the nation.

If you tried running away to any of the Free Cities of Essos, you would be discovered within days by family comrades. And no one in Dorhaven would even dare attempt to cross the Narrow Sea to start a life in Westeros. So you were stuck in a life full of redundancy and complete sadness.

Only one thing would keep you from slipping from the depths of eternal loneliness and it came in the form of violet eyes and platinum blonde hair. Daenerys kept your small ember burning longer than expected. She was the sole thing that made you emotional. She was able to love you and cherish you beyond any fathomable idea.

All in all, she made you feel worthy.

Oh lord did she stir up emotions that you didn’t believe you had. Just thinking about it made you tear up because within a few moments, you would never be able to hold her in your arms again or gaze into her unique eyes. That alone made you completely fall apart.

Your knees buckled underneath you as you sobbed into your hands, desperately wishing for the utter depression to vanish. However, the edge of the cliff began rumbling, the sudden weight causing the limestones to shift in the wrong direction. You tried scrambling to your feet but the movement only caused the stones to crumble quicker and before you knew it, your body had fallen off half the cliff. A strangled cry released from your throat. All attempts of you hauling yourself over the stable land was impossible. Your weak hands could barely hold onto the jagged rock that was slowly piercing your skin as you applied more pressure.

It made you no longer want to die.

“Help!” You screamed out. Your hand began to slip, the rock cutting into your hand, allowing blood to trail down your arm.

The Ancient Gods answered your pleas and sent an angel down to save you, to help you through your time of great need. It was the exact thing you dreamed of every night.

Daenerys violet eyes were wide with complete terror written across her face. She grabbed both of your arms in hers and roughly pulled you up to the top before dragging your a few feet away from the edge. Although you were in pain, the gigantic hole in your hand is a clear symbol, you were extremely happy to see your beautiful lover.

She was crying, her violet eyes shedding tears of both sorrow and happiness. She cradled you in her arms and you couldn’t help but reprimand yourself. You decided to just leave the life you had without any thought of who you might hurt. Daenerys didn’t deserve that type of heartbreak and you hated yourself at the thought of it.

“Daenerys,” You whispered, breaking apart from her arms to gaze at her face. You rested a hand on her cheek before releasing a stream of tears. “I’m sorry.”

The Dragon Queen stared at you with complete confusion and sadness. “There is nothing to apologize for. You have done more than enough and you are worthy of everything. Worthy of your family, your kingdom, and above all else, worthy of my love.”

A smile, a genuine smile graced your lips for the first time in months. You nodded gently, wanting to say something, to reassure her that you wanted to live as long as the Ancient Ones would allow it. But the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. Instead, you laid there with your loved one rocking you into blissful content.

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 1, 871 published: december 27, 2017 edited: n/a

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen x reader #dany x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #request #femslash #ASoIaF #daenerys stormborn #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys imagine #angst #dragonglassx

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wintaer-bear · 7 years

Text

Gladiolus (M) Ch. 1

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader Genre/ Rating: smut and fluff/ mature (18+) Word Count: 3.8k ***WARNING: mature themes (daddy kink), strip/bar/club!AU Summary: Being the girlfriend of a club owner sounds like fun. Free booze, free parties, free company. But none of that matters at the end of the night when the lights turn on and he comes home smelling like the life of the party.

11:12 PM.

Just another three hours until bar close, followed by sixty minutes of closing hour. Then half an hour to clear out the stragglers. Cleaning up will take at least another 90 minutes. A twenty-three minute drive home.

Namjoon has developed a habit in counting down the seconds in the moments he’s away from you. The man loves nothing more than crawling into your shared sheets at sunrise to wake you with morning kisses and breakfast he has picked up along the way. Your day starts early, by the time he’s done showering you with love and affection, you’re in a rush to redress in more appropriate undergarments and work attire. He’s left to clean up the scattered breakfast that never quite seem to make it into your stomachs, but fills him up entirely. If he’s not drunk on your love, his stomach is full with butterflies you hatch as you kiss his cheek goodbye in your white coat. God, he loves you in that white coat.

In his mind, Namjoon already has you bent over and on the brink of ecstasy. You have formally forgiven him for this morning’s trivial spat that began over “not squeezing the toothpaste correctly” (it’s from the bottom up, by the way) and his left hand is holding your waist steady while his right is entangled in your hair as it pushes your moaning breath further into the pillow with each pounding action of his thick hips. His lips visit the back of your shoulder in a wet reward for taking him in so well. Each touch elicits a guttural sound between your exasperated pants, a muffled vibration that seems to resemble his name.

“Joonie, Joon-ah.”

At least, that’s what he hopes it’ll be like when he returns home this upcoming morning.

Namjoon had to leave in the middle of the discourse, leaving it unresolved and to sink in as he made his way to work. It was just toothpaste for Christ sake. Nothing to get so worked up about. He hated leaving you in an angry mess, but try as he might, he couldn’t pinpoint the source of such angst much less anything to hold onto with such resentful conviction. He figures it’s another one of your shared and misguided arguments brought on by stress that will blow over by the time he gets home. You’ve always been one to take on more than you can handle and Namjoon’s own mind has be preoccupied searching for the next best step for the club.

Namjoon takes a look around his office, music threatening against his door, reminding him of the company he has to entertain tonight. He takes a final glance at his phone, his last message left on read, breathes a heavy sigh of sobriety, and returns to the fancy limbo of his own creation.

[8:15 PM] Namjoon: Goodnight princess. Daddy will see you when he get’s home. {read}

The smell of hookah and alcohol is mesmerizing, nostalgic if he wasn’t exposed to it three nights a week. It reminds him of a time when he looked forward to the blacked out nights and the youthfulness it instilled; a time when he was on the other side, enjoying the booze and spending money he didn’t have. Now he was the owner, the boss kicking out drunks and allowing pretty, high-end tails in at his discretion.

The club is in its normal state, busy and hectic. There’s a bachelor party going on that is obviously more for the friends than the groom-to-be. Namjoon chuckles under his breathe as he recognizes the loudest one as Jackson, a companion you made during one of your rotations.

“Namjoon! My man!” He drunkenly shouts, calling Namjoon over with hands. “Come down a drink with us! I’d say it’s on us, but it’s your house, so I guess it’s on you.” The blonde haired man’s words come out slurred as he downs a double shot of rum and whisks is eyes to the stage where one of Namjoon’s dancer’s has just began her show. “Wow, she’s a hottie. Look at her hips move.”

“Yeah, that’s Rose,” Namjoon replied, unfazed by the dancer’s movements. “She’s got a slot open if you want to surprise your friend. I’d book her soon though. She sells out quick.”

“Who? For Jaehyung? Nah,” Jackson laughs hysterically at the thought. “That boy is too in love with his fiancee to even look at anyone else. Coming here was his idea, but when he got here all he wanted was booze and lobster. Said the other girls made him cringe.”

Namjoon glances past beside Jackson. The groom to be is working his way through the lobster tail in one hand and clinging onto his beer is the other, oblivious to lustful looks surrounding him. “Sounds like a solid man to me,” Namjoon chuckles. “You enjoy yourself Jackson. If anyone tries to give you trouble, just let me know. I’ll be hovering around here somewhere.”

“Get you a man who has your back!” Jackson calls after the leaving body. “Oh, wait! Let’s take a picture for Y/N! She still doesn’t believe I do anything more than hold babies and scream.”

Namjoon laughs at the thought. The number of times you’ve come home exhausted from Jackson’s overwhelming enthusiasm and energy is well over a dozen and now he could see why.

[11:29 PM] Y/N: [image.jpg] so jackson, an actual angel on earth, the purest form of innocence, can come to 148, but i, your queen of the bedsheets, cannot? what kind of sexism is this??? {unread}

[11:45 PM] Y/N: fine. ignore me. ill just sulk. {unread}

[11:45 PM] Y/N: and think about how you DONT squeeze toothpaste correctly {unread}

[11:46 PM] Y/N: yes, im still mad about that {unread}

[12:09 AM ] Y/N: why is jackson sending me pictures of you behind the bar? {unread}

[12:18 AM] Y/N: [image.jpg] get that smug little smirk off your face {unread}

You know Jackson doesn’t mean anything harm by his texts. He captions every picture with something silly like “get you a man who can bop bottles” or “he’s so daddy.” The golden boy honestly thinks his snapshots and updates are hilarious. Like you, he doesn’t get out much, the rawness of the hospital hours weighing him down.

The last picture he sent was a blurred picture of two bodies, one leaning over the bar to whisper something into the other’s ear. Even with the blur of lights and pixels, you could tell it was Namjoon. He hunched over the bar with a grin on his face as the female covered her lips to his ear.

[12:22 AM] Y/N: istg kim namjoon if you dont stop flirting up a storm ill strangle you myself {unread}

Dramatic. You know. You were supposed to be an adult, a professional, but somehow everything and anything Namjoon did made you turn into an overdramatic high schooler.

The weekends were always the same. They’re the only two days of rest before the start of another hectic work week. You want nothing more but to spend those dwindling hours snug in your living room watching some cheesy disney princess movie with Namjoon, but your evenings are cute short when he has to return to Club 148 to supervise his venue. You’d never tell him, but it’s a jab at your ego and feeds your insecurities to watch him dress in his best suits and be surrounded by beautiful and adorned women who respond to his beck and call. It just didn’t feel right to ask him to quit running the club when he had built it from the ground up to feed your dreams in the first place.

One more hour. Just another hour until bar close.

Time couldn’t past by fast enough. Namjoon removed himself from behind the bar, and poured himself a scotch. He doesn’t normally drink on the job, but what started as normal night, had somehow turned into a stampede of parties and drunks ordering up the bar. His three bartenders couldn’t keep up, and Namjoon saved his own ass by hopping behind the bar to take a couple of orders himself.

He doesn’t know how Seokjin does it. Seokjin will chat up his customers, pour shots, get them to spill their life story, turn attention to the next customer mid-through, and still get tipped 20% minimum. Namjoon had a hard enough time hearing the orders let alone keeping the orders straight and receiving any tip at all. The number of times he prepared the wrong drink was enough to fill three empty bottles of wholesale liquor.

“Good looking out chief,” Seokjin waved to his employer as he returned to the safety of his confines. His office was located on the second floor, and overlooked the bar and entryway. The tall one-way mirrors made it look like just another hall of reflective glass to the unsuspecting customers, but made it all the easier to keep track of his club.

Namjoon pulls out his phone, aware of all the buzzing that went on whilst behind the bar.

He figures it’s spam from the club’s SNS, last minute questions about tonight's theme, but lets out a breathe of adoration at the realization of the mass texts you’ve been sending in your group chat. He reads each text in the tone he’s sure you sent them in.

[12:47 AM] Namjoon: I love you too baby :))) bt maybe next time can u dm me so Reuel doesnt have to read our messages? {read}

Namjoon made sure to double check that he was sending the message directly to you and not the group chat.

[12:48 AM] Y/N: how about next time you DONT flirt with the pretty girl buying drinks?? {read}

Namjoon laughs at your response. It’s hard to take your petty jealousy seriously when he was so obviously in smitten with you.

Namjoon adores you. He counts down the minutes until he can return home to you. He brings you breakfast in bed. He kisses the stretch marks on your stomach, on your thighs, on your ass. He loves every part of you, and if it wasn’t blatantly obvious to the girls he pouring drinks for that he wasn’t interested, Namjoon figured they weren’t bright enough for a thorough explanation anyway.

[12:48 AM] Namjoon: How about i squeeze from the bottom instead? :) {read}

[12:49 AM] Y/N: not my bottom. {read}

You read right through his message, clear of his intentions. No way was he going to get out of this fight with dirty talk… again.

[12:49 AM] Y/N: not even if you asked nicely. {read}

[12:50 AM] Namjoon: We’ll see ;) How’s my little baby? {read}

[12:50 AM] Y/N: fine. sleeping. bye. {read}

Namjoon let out a chuckle at your last text. You’re obviously upset at him but he can’t help but think of the cute expression you make as you roll your eyes at his antics.

The rest of the night pasts by in a blur. Namjoon continues to make rounds of his club, making sure all his employees remain compliant with his philosophy. He doesn’t like to blend the pleasures of work and play and when his employees are on the clock, he expects strict mannerisms of work.

Jungkook has been caught being a little too frisky during his private dances, and although Namjoon hates to demote him to a bouncer, it hopes it reinforces the seriousness of his law. Ideally Namjoon would have let the boy go, but he has developed a soft spot for the misguided adolescent; a story Namjoon has seen too often ignored rather than helped.

The rounds aren’t just for his employees, but for his customers too. Interacting with the high bidders and gold membership owners help build his network and rapport. Though Namjoon may look like a insouciant club owner, he’s a businessman at his core. Namjoon is always looking for ways to raise Club 148’s profits and improve the stability of his volatile business. Night clubs are common in his area, and each is in competition to outcompete one another. He’s at a particular disadvantage due to his strict rules of pleasure, something most of his employees respect him for boy clients see different.

By the time the last straggler exits the building, Namjoon is wiped. The constant inbetween regulations and customers has him dizzy and ready for bed. It takes his crew just as long as he predicted to clean the mess left from the events of the night.

“Good work tonight everyone,” he thanks his crew as he does at the end of each night.

The drive home is always his favorite. A realm of calm in the typically busy streets. He gets a chance to recollect all his thoughts and a he drives into the sunrise, and he thanks the heavens for another day he gets to return to you.

Normally, Namjoon comes home and takes a shower. You don’t drink or smoke, so the scents of Namjoon’s club makes your empty stomach do flips, but this early morning is different. He crawls into bed with scents from last night’s shift.

It’s Sunday, the only day the two of you get to spend the entire 24 hours together. There is no evening rush to get to his club, and no early morning on-call duty. Sunday is your day, so why does he smell like Saturday?

“Babe, go shower,” you mumble, words weak in your sleep. “You smell like cigarettes and poison.”

“I figured it out,” he says sleekly, ignoring your request. “I thought about it all night and on my drive home. I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“You’re a planner,” he continues and presses a kiss upon your forehead. “You’ve always been a planner.” This kiss splayed on your nose. “I’m not a planner.” Your lips. “I do things as they come,” his lips are now on your collarbone, tracing their way back up your neck.

“But I’ll squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom from now on.”

You chuckle beside him as his lips press against yours. “Oh, so you think that’s asking nicely?”

“Wasn’t asking” he smirks, feeding his hands the skin of your thighs as he brings your legs to wrap around his waist. His gaze is intent on yours.

Your lips find Namjoon’s for the first time tonight and he takes it as a notion of approval. Almost immediately, he moves his palms from your outer thighs to the curve of your ass and lays kisses on your breasts. You moan at his light and gentle touches and gasps his name as he tighten his grip on your buttocks, pressing you into his groin. “God, I love your ass.”

You can feel his hardening cock rubbing against your core as he pulls you on top of him. You’re sweating, panting, wanting.

“Did my baby miss me while I was away?” He gives a slap tap to your ass.

You bite your lip at his teasing and nod, confirming your pleasure. Namjoon loves to taunt you. It’s the sole reason you’re rushing out the door five minutes later than you should be every morning for your shift. He loves the moaning mess he makes of you as he kisses your core and the begging you succumb to when you’re impatient for a good fuck.

“Bend over for me sweetheart, let Daddy see.”

You do as he commands, quick to position yourself on all fours. Namjoon replays the fantasy he had of you earlier, a moaning tool as he gripped your waist. His dick twitches at the thought. He can’t wait to enter you, but not before you’re pleading for relief.

“So wet,” he moans, teasing your tight pussy with his fingers. He runs his drenched finger along your slit. “Stick it out for me, baby. Show me how pretty your pussy is.”

He meets your core in the air with his tongue, tracing circles around you clit. The air and muscle cool along your entrance. You want him.

“Please Daddy,” you beg. “Don’t tease me.”

He groans, restraining himself from entering you all at once. “You’ve got to show me first, sweetheart. Show me how hungry your pussy is.”

As if on cue, your Kegel muscles begin to involute on their own, twitching at his beck and call. You imagine every inch of him inside you, pounding into you until you’re sore.

“That’s it. That my hot baby. Call daddy’s cock with your pussy.”

Your ass begins to dance in the air, taunting him to enter you. You can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against your cheeks as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you.

“Joonie,” you moan in ecstasy. “Please. Ugh. Just. Ugh. Fuck. Me.” Your voice comes out in sporadic gasps as he shoves his third finger in you and searches for your spot. His excitement unveiled as he too gives out a moan from your pelvic muscles squeezing around his fingers.

“Damn baby, arch your back. I think your pussy is ready for me.”

Namjoon extends his free hand down the small of your back, pushing your frame deeper into the mattress. He loves seeing you in this position, your ass is curved and high, hiding your tight cunt that’s begging to be fucked. He pumps a wet kiss on the highest curve of your ass, warning you of his entrance.

An exchange of moans reverberate through the room, echoing down the halls as Namjoon enters you. He’s not gentle. He allows gasps of breath exit his mouth, as he chants your name, praising your cunt. “So fucking tight.”

Namjoon doesn’t let up his thrusts even when he feels your walls caving in. “Ungh,” he groans. “That’s it baby. Squeeze my dick.”

You’re exhausted, your cunt erratically twitching from cumming a second time.

“Look at those cheeks bounce. God, I love this ass.” He gives another slap to your ass, watching as your booty jiggles on his dick.

“Come in me Daddy. Fill me up.” Your voice is begging, frail and honest.

“Don’t tease me, sweetheart. You know I want to.”

As long as the two of you have been together, very rarely do you let Namjoon come in you. He loves it, the thrill of releasing himself in you as you convulse around his cock but you’ve come wary of the consequences.

“Please Daddy,” you beg, giving one final squeeze around his cock. “I want to feel you cum.”

Namjoon gives a few erratic pumps before he feels sweet ecstasy releasing from the tip of his swollen cock and traverse to his knees. His body falls to the bed, dragging yours with him as he braces his arm as your pillow. He tosses his trousers from the night before on the ground and fixes himself in his briefs. You straighten out your own nightgown as your snuggle into his chest.

“She was just a customer, you know?” He laughs, turning his body to face you. “And I meant it when I said I’d squeeze from the bottom.” His hands jiggle the base of your exposed cheeks.

“Still hate her,” you replied, giving him a peck on his cheeks. “And good, you can start by-”

“Daddy?” A small and angelic voice interrupts. Namjoon brings his attention to the little girl walking towards your bed, her yellow bear in hand as she yawns and rubs her sleepy eyes open. “I knew I heard mommy calling your name.”

“Good morning Princess.” Namjoon is quick to feet, relinquishing you from his warmth and transferring it to the little doe-eyed doll who looks just like you. He picks her up as gentle as you would a infant. “Who’s this new guy? Your prince?” Namjoon directs his finger to the stuffed toy at her side.

“No. Daddy is my prince. He’s my beast, see?” She shoves the bear in her awestruck father’s face and bellows a growl with all her might. The sweetest roar he ever did hear.

“Daddy can’t be your prince little baby. I’m mommy’s prince. And she’s my queen.” The girl frowns in his arms and looks at you on the bed before whispering something in the smiling man’s ear.

“But she said she’d strangle you.”

“I didn’t mean it, Reuel. Mommy was just a tiny weeny upset at Daddy.” You mutter, rising from the bed.

“But I read it on my tablet!”

Namjoon gives you a triumphant smile. He and Reuel always tag team you. “I meant to say,” you breathe, exasperated at your four-year old’s reading comprehension, she must have got that from her dad. “I’m going to strangle him with love. So much love. So much love Daddy is going to-”

“I’m hungry,” the mini-you cut you off (again), turning her head to her father. “Let’s go make breakfast downstairs daddy.”

“That’s a good idea,” Namjoon agreed, smiling at you as he placed little Reuel’s feet to the floor. “Mommy has a mess to clean up.”

Sunday’s are supposed to be your day, family day. But Reuel and Namjoon make it Reuel and Namjoon day with their behavior exclusive exchange of whispers and secrets. It hard for you to even get a kiss from Namjoon when she’s all over Namjoon’s shoulders during “princess movie time” and holding his attention while you make trips into the city. He’s obviously the favorite parent, but that doesn’t discourage you from fawning for her attention as much as you do for Namjoon’s.

“Come on Reuel, let’s go get some ice cream. One for you, one for me, and one for daddy.”

“How about I go with Daddy and you wait here?” She points to the bench and drags her father’s hand along in the direction of the dessert parlor.

You face is visibly hurt, distorted by the easiness your daughter dismisses you when her father is around.

“She’s just like you, you know?” Namjoon smiles, licking your ice cream. “Looks like you, talks like you, gets jealous like you.”

You jerk your ice cream away from him, glaring at him with your beady eyes. “Sounds like a double win to me.”

A/N: this is part of the Appease (strip/bar/club!AU) Series. yee.

#bts smut #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #rap monster smut #rapmonster smut

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