#Actor AU with extra steps | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dejwrld · 4 months

Text

summary — the story of how international rockstar & the international pop star met at gojo satoru's party

warning readers discretion is advised ⸻accumulated word count of 4.9k, female reader, rockstar!choso, popstar!reader, famous jjk au, told in third pov (choso pov), mentions of gojo being an actor, alcohol consumption, profanity, mentions of yuji, kechizu, & eso, kechizu and eso are described as humans, mentions of choso winning a grammy, mentions of grandpa itadori owning a onigiri shop, setting: tokyo, japan, thigh fucking, do not do the do in your grandpa’s onigiri shop, minors do not interact!

sticky note from deja — somebody asked how choso and reader would have met. so i am here to write that! i accidentally deleted the ask lmfao. so here is something quick, that turned into something long. this fic is a standalone from my previous choso fic, it takes place before that fic though | divider credit @/v6que

Choso wasn’t the biggest fan of parties when he had just gotten off tour three days ago and wanted to spend his one-month hiatus disconnecting from practically everything and everyone. He knew as soon as the month ended, it would be crunch time to prepare for his next album—plus being a judge on this music competition show. He wanted to prepare himself mentally and spend time with his brothers. But here he was wall hugging with a drink at one of Gojo Satoru’s parties. The insane thing about this party is that it was at Satoru’s place; he oddly trusted every celebrity that littered his place to be comfortable with it. Choso’s anxiety would go through the roof at the thought of someone possibly spilling wine on his couch, but this was Gojo Satoru. If he needed an interior designer to redecorate his place in four days—he’d do it.

“You’ll never guess who just messaged me saying they’re coming through because they’re in Japan for two weeks.” Satoru’s voice shrieked over the music. He waved his phone in Choso’s face so aggressively that Choso couldn’t see what he was showing him.

“The Y/N L/N.” He said. “The three-time Grammy award-winning one!”

“I’m a Grammy winner.” Choso joked, sipping from his cup, and Satoru’s crystal blue eyes stared at the raven-haired male as if he’d grown an extra arm.

“But you aren’t a three-time Grammy award winner, and I know you, Choso. We all know each other.” He corrects as he eyes his best friend, Geto Suguru, playing pool with movie director Nanami Kento. “So, if you see her. Don’t be weird. You tend to be weird around beautiful women.”

Choso’s lips parted to argue, but Gojo just shook his head, not wanting to hear whatever excuse would come out of the rockstar’s mouth before eventually going to tend to his other guests. Choso took that mental note to avoid the woman altogether. He had heard about her. If you didn’t, you had to live under the ground because everyone knew her. Even here in Japan, she had a solid fanbase. She was Pop’s current it girl, and Choso highly doubted she was going anywhere at the time, especially considering that her latest single was Number 1.

As Choso stepped outside on the balcony of Satoru’s luxury penthouse, the sound of the music blasting was left behind as he glanced out at the skyline of downtown Tokyo. His mind attempted to find peace until a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Crap, someone found my hiding place.”

When Choso glanced over, he saw her. The one that Gojo was raving about her arrival. He straightened himself up, immediately remembering Satoru’s words. He was in front of a rising music legend at the moment. The talk of Japan since the news dropped that she was coming here.

“You do know the party host is currently anticipating your arrival?” He closed the gap between them as she stepped closer so she could hear him a bit better.

“I mean, yeah. But I just wanted to enjoy the alone time before I’m bombarded with the sea of taking selfies with so many people,” She responds with a chuckle. “I stole this bottle of champagne from his bar, though. I hope he doesn't mind.” She sips from the bottle before placing it down.

“You’re hiding from the party, huh? Didn’t think a rockstar wouldn’t be the life of a party right before him.”

Choso’s cheeks heated at her words. One.) Her eyes scanned him as if she was checking him out. Two.) He realized that she may have known who he was.

“I get one month off after a worldwide tour. I kinda didn’t want to use this night partying with people who only hit me up when they want me on the guest lists of their party,” He responds.

“So, what would you do?” The popstar asks.

“Probably hang out with my brothers. It’s been months since I saw them in person.” Choso comments with a sigh. “We have so much catching up to do,”

“Then let’s go,” She responds as she turns around to grab her miniature purse that Choso was sure could only fit about three things at most.

“Huh?” He questions. “Did you not hear me say that the party's host is waiting for you,” He repeats.

“I did, and I want to go with you to hang with your brothers,” She sighs. “I’ve been going to parties since I arrived here in Japan. Missing one won’t hurt,” She pushes the oversized shades on her face with a smile, and Choso felt his cock & heart flutter. “I haven’t been able to enjoy Japan, so why not enjoy it with a rockstar instead.”

Choso chuckles before he nods in agreement. “Well, how do you feel about motorcycles?” He asks. He rocks back and forth on his heels before giving the woman a grin as she is thinking.

“My manager would oppose me getting on one, but my manager isn’t here.” She points out. “So, what the hell.” She throws her hands up. “But we also have another problem.” She peeks over the balcony, and despite being many floors up from the ground, she can still see the flashing of paparazzi cameras.

“Oh, I came in through the backway. I’ve been to Satoru’s penthouse parties many times and learned the many exits and entrances. Don’t worry; your fans won’t get any photos of you leaving a party with some sleazy rock slash alternative musician.” He grins at her and decides to enter the place, fully not expecting her to follow behind him.

Choso can only imagine the photos if they were caught together. They probably would think he was corrupting her, or she was in her bad girl phase. Either way, he didn’t mind. But he hated people in his business, and being seen with her meant people would be in his business. It’s a reason why he’s paying off restitution to a paparazzi guy. The guy was in his business, and Choso may have broken his camera.

“Wait up! I’m coming!” Her voice screams over the music as she catches up to Choso to grab upon the black leather jacket he wore.

Just like that, the international rock and pop stars quickly left Gojo Satoru’s party. Choso had taken the elevator to the second floor, Y/N not far behind him as she was more aware of her surroundings than he was. Then, they used the emergency fire exit to exit the building. There, Choso’s BMW R18 motorcycle was where he left it. He picked up the spare helmet and gave it to Y/N.

“Just hold on to me. I promise I won’t hurt the world’s favorite pop princess.” He pulled the helmet over his face as she giggled at his comment.

“I hope not because my fans would want your head on a pike.” She smirked as she got on the motorcycle right after him. Instantly, Y/N’s arms are snaking around his waist.

“Well, good thing I also have insane fans.” Choso backfires before turning on the motorcycle, the engine roaring out Y/N’s snarky comment in response.

Choso knew that his brothers probably were at Yuji’s grandfather's onigiri shop because on Fridays, it’s busier than usual, and the old man was too stubborn to hire anybody else when he had (and Choso quote) ‘strong grandsons to help an old man out.’ Choso did not pay for the ten-year-old shop renovations for him having to come back from tour to throw on an apron and go home smelling like seawood and rice. But it was pretty late; the shop was probably closed, and his siblings were circled around a table eating what hadn’t been sold. Yuji would blabber on about his senior year and exams. Because of his dance classes, Eso would most definitely have his leg prompted up on a chair with bags of ice on it. In contrast, Kechizu head would be into his Steam deck console to even care about Yuji swiping fish cakes off his plate. He knew his brothers like he knew the lyrics he wrote; they were imprinted in his brain because they were all he had if fame, money, and luxury were taken away.

When he parked the motorcycle, he helped Y/N off it and removed the helmet. “I hope you like Onigiri.” He says.

“Well, I only tried it once from a convenience store.” Her fingers combed through her braids that traveled down her back before smoothing out the black jumpsuit she wore.

“I promise these are better.” He held the door open for her, and as he had expected, the place was closing. Chairs were placed on most tables except for the one his brothers occupied.

All of them had different dads; it was a frequent talking point in Choso's interviews with magazines, radio stations, and so on. Yes, the world knew their mother, who wasn’t the best mom—slept around. It wasn’t a secret; maybe it did help some bloggers throw jabs at him. However, Choso wasn’t ashamed of where he came from and how he was raised. Regardless if all his brothers looked differently, they were still his brothers. So what if Yuji resembled his father with his pastel pink-shaded hair and bright eyes? Or Eso, who was the tallest despite being the middle child and he had a passion for ballet dancing. Then Kechizu, who people assume was the youngest, was as quiet as can be—very observant but knew every fuckin’ fact about some retro video game. They all acted so differently—looked so differently, but they were still so close as if they were raised in the same household.

“Holy shit!” Yuji exclaimed as his eyes beamed at the door when he saw Choso and Y/N walk in. “Holy shit!” He repeated.

“Language,” Choso exclaimed as he stepped forward to ruffle Kechizu’s green-colored hair. The second youngest child swatted his brother’s hand as he tried to continue to play Fortnite. “Do we have room to add another to the table?”

“Of course, the Y/N L/N is in my presence. Todo is going to freak out when I tell him.” Yuji squeals as he moves his chair over for Choso to add a chair in between him and Yuji for the pop star.

Y/N gives them a smile that Choso has seen her give to many people—interviewers, musicians, her fans. She took the seat in between Yuji and himself, and Choso couldn’t help but to slap the back of his younger brother's head as the pastel pink-haired teenager leaned back to take a peek at Y/N’s while she sat down.

“So are you two like-”

“It’s none of your business,” Choso interjected as he glared at Yuji because he just had to be the curious cat within the brothers.

The group continued to eat, with small conversations about things from the tour to Y/N’s music. Even though she had just met his brothers, she fit in perfectly with them. Granted, he didn’t like that she did about five math problems for Itadaori. The way she made the room feel much brighter made Choso’s cheeks heat as he observed the room. Now she was talking about dance with Eso, completely lost in the topic as they gushed about the first dance classes they took.

“I was eight when I took my first dance class. It was ballet; I practically had two left feet.” She chuckles after taking a bite of the onigiri. “You have wonderful legs, Eso, so I know you’re a killer dancer.” She compliments him.

Her glossed lips formed a straight line as she thought about something, “You know, I have a show at this festival before I go home. If you don’t have any plans, I’m down a dancer for my team. I know it’s short notice, but some pretty important people will be in the crowd…” Her voice trails off as a smile appears on Eso’s face. “Only if you’re down. Don’t feel pressured because it’s me.”

“I would be honored. Send me where you guys rehearse, and I’ll be there.” Eso smiles at her as they exchange phone numbers and socials.

“Well, since you’re giving out opportunities. Can you set me up to meet a couple of people?” Yuji opened the notes app on his phone with his list. “Jennifer Lawrence, Tom Holland, maybe Megan thee Stallion too.”

“You have a rockstar older brother. Why can’t you ask him?” Y/N questioned as her eyes playfully glared at Yuji.

“He said, and I quote…I refuse for you to embarrass me.” Yuji mocked Choso’s tone and was met with a chopstick thrown at him.

Just as Choso was about to interject, Wasuke Itadori came from behind, questioning who would close up. Silence overcame the group, and Yuji even slumped lower in his seat to prevent himself from being chosen. He had closed the shop for three days straight because his brothers were ever so busy with their lives.

“Choso, since you have a guest…you guys will close up.” Wasuke tugged on his jacket just as Yuji and the others collected their things to leave. “Before you lie and say you have some band thing, I know you’re off tour and on vacation.”

“Shit,” Choso uttered as he stood to collect the shop’s keys from the older guy. “We’ll clean up and lock up the shop. Don’t need to worry.”

“Good, and don’t keep your lady friend out so late. That’s not very gentlemanly. But what can I say? Chivalry is dead when it comes to your bunch.” He gives Y/N a wink as he leads the others out of the shop, leaving the two musicians all alone.

“You have a unique family.” Y/N stands.

“You don’t have to stay to help me close up? Like he said, I don’t want to keep you out so late.” Choso tears his leather jacket off and tosses it on one of the chairs.

He sported a black t-shirt that reasonably fitted him. His biceps bulged just a bit with each flex of him picking up dishes to clean them in the kitchen. Even Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he moved around the eating area.

“I don’t mind helping, plus you’re kinda my ride back to where I’m staying.” She collected the other dishes and followed Choso into the kitchen.

“Well, let’s hurry because I don’t want to have you out too late. You probably have something to do in the morning.”

“Just rehearsal that starts at noon.”

“I remember those days. Gosh, so glad the tour is over with.” He emptied the plates and put the dishes in the sink.

“How was the tour for you? From the looks of social media, it seemed like it wasn’t a dull moment,” She points out as she rolls her sleeves up. She took the place next to Choso with a cloth to dry the dishes that Choso was washing.

“Fun. Sometimes, I love being on the road, but I like being around my family more. I get homesick like shit when I’m touring. But when I go out and perform—do what I love to do, and it reminds me why I do it.” Choso explains while passing a dish to Y/N to dry. “It feels like just yesterday I was singing in bars in Roppongi district.”

When he turned his head, he was met with her gaze. His whole body betrayed him because he immediately felt the heat in his cheeks. When Choso blushed, it was as noticeable as can be. His cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of red that took minutes to go away.

“I’m sure your brothers are very proud of you.” She smiles and places another plate to the side.

“What about you? It’s your first time performing here?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m nervous. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He hummed at her words before the two returned to washing the dishes. Their arms briefly bump into each other, and they find themselves uttering apologies for something so subtle.

“So, I’m curious to ask. Since other than the news of you performing at this music festival this week. Are you still dating that guy? That actor…” His voice trails off, wondering if that was an intrusive question.

“Why’d you ask? For yourself or your little actor friend Satoru?” Her elbow nudges against his side after she puts another dried plate to the side.

Choso was quiet for a second. When he talked to Gojo earlier, the actor didn’t seem interested in the popstar—but it was Gojo. He had his way of trying to get with someone that left many (including Gojo) confused. Choso wouldn’t deny that Y/N was attractive, but he knew she had heard it from many guys. Perhaps she didn’t want someone to view her in a lens that she’s used to the whole world viewing her as. The sultry, sexy popstar whose Playboy photoshoot went viral on every social media platform down to fuckin’ Reddit.

“Who knows with Satoru? His publicist ensures his love life is on lock. But for me, I don’t know either.” He foolishly admits. He grabbed a hand towel, dried his hands with it, and turned to face the hideous cat clock that was ticking with each second.

“You don’t know?” She asked; she stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the clock—but of course, Choso didn’t mind.

Choso sighs and tosses the cloth to the side, “If I admit it, I’ll feel like I’m viewing you in the same lens that every other guy views you as. The sexy pop star who caused a guy to faint when he met you,” Choso chuckles. “Just forget I asked..”

“Hm, you view me as something other than a sexy pop star.” She stepped forward, and Choso could get a whiff of warm vanilla-scented perfume. Her eyes glanced up at him through her lashes, and again, she saw the faint red color stain Choso’s cheeks.

“From this conversation and you ditching a party despite being the main reason everyone came, I can tell that you want to be viewed through a lens other than the sexy popstar,” Choso admits. “And I think that’s why you decided to come with me. You knew I would be able to view you in said lens without trying.”

He couldn’t read her expression, but he could tell just by her taking a step forward, suffocating his personal space, that he was correct. He bites at his lower lip before speaking again, stepping forward also. “If I’m right, selfishly enough—I’ll make you mine right now.”

“Quite bold of you to say Mr. Rockstar because if I remember correctly, in your GQ interview, you don’t do relationships because you hate people being in your business. The world’s most popular rockstar slash alternative musician and the pop’s current it girl being together…everyone will be in our business.”

“Fair point, but I guess that’s a risk I’ll take and many NDAs to give out.”

Choso was always a man to make the first move, but here, the popstar was leaping forward to kiss him. Gosh, he let her. If he could, he’ll let her use him as she pleases. His hand guided her to the top of the counter as he kissed her deeply. Her fingers combed through his dark locks of hair, tugging gently for a response just to slip her tongue into his mouth. She tasted so good. It's like the best bottle of champagne that someone can offer. A moan vibrates from the back of Choso’s throat as the two make out. Tongues taste each other like the last meal you two can have.

When they broke apart, Choso cupped Y/N’s face. His thumb drags alongside the soft flesh of her cheeks. “I don’t think we should take this any further in his fuckin’ onigiri shop—but fuck.” He sighs. “I don’t think I can make it to my place.” His eyes averted behind Y/N at the employee bathroom.

It was hardly used, considering that Wasuke practically ran the shop himself. Usually, it is only used when one of the brothers stops by.

“You can’t be that horny not to wait.” Y/N laughs before she feels Choso collect her hand and press it against his crotch. Her eyes enlarged at what she was feeling.

“Look what you’ve done to me; I can’t wait.” His head fell upon her shoulders, and his words were a stubborn whine.

Y/N pushes him back from in between the space of her thighs, and she hops off the counter and walking towards the bathroom. Like a dog receiving a treat, Choso follows behind Y/N in the bathroom. When the two were in the enclosed space, he turned her around so that she was facing the sink. His hands unzipped the front of her jumpsuit while his lips ghosted over her brown skin. He was nipping at spots on her neck like a hormonal college student.

“If I knew that I was going to be receiving dick from the Choso Kamo, I would have worn something much easier to work around.” She helps him pull the upper part of the jumpsuit down.

Her breast broke out the tight spandex material as soon as it came down, and Choso felt him grow even harder—aching, entirely for her. His hands snaked around the front of her waist to feel inside her nude, seamless panties.

If Choso concentrated hard enough, he could feel his precum stain his bottoms at the feel of how wet she was. His index and middle fingers that strummed countless guitars and rubbed slow circles on her clit. With the mirror that was above the sink, he was able to see her come undone. It was similar to pulling at a loose piece of thread on a piece of clothing and watching it unravel with each pull. Y/N melted in front of him. Her plump lips gasped apart to let out a sweet tune: her moans. With each motion of his million-dollar fingers, she moans louder—this time gasping out his name like a lyric in one of the love songs she’s written.

Before Choso wanted to quicken his teasing, he unbuckled his belt quickly. The sound was like music to Y/N’s ears because she attempted to step out of her jumpsuit, but Choso stopped her with a brief slap on her ass. It took her by shock, but she felt herself grow wet at the feeling of the sting going away.

“Who said you were getting my dick tonight?” He asks as he pushes the jumpsuit down.

“I’m the world’s biggest pop star now, I think I deserve it.” Y/N points out as Choso nips at the tip of her ear.

“And I’m the world’s biggest rockstar, with the current #1 album on the charts. So I think I outrank you at the moment.” He smirks as he’s pulling his boxers down just a bit for his cock to spring out beautifully.

“My tour grossed the highest,” She proudly bragged.

“In your dreams, pop star.” Choso's fingers hook the band of her panties, sliding them down—his hand palms at the fatness of her ass.

Choso could give her what she wanted. Stuff her full with his cock, but she’s been given what she wanted ever since she established herself as this star.

“So, you’re just going to edge the world's most popular pop star on like this?” She questions; a teasing tone drops from her tongue, and her eyes stare at him through the mirror.

“Something like that,” Choso brought his hand up to his mouth, gawking up a fair amount of spit to coat his cock in, and his lips curved into a devious smirk seeing Y/N eagerly wiggle herself further on him. His hardened cock poked her, but the musician had other plans.

Instead of helping slide into Y/N’s cunt, his cock wedged in between her thighs—right above the little bit of space of her panties being pulled down. Which was as lewd as can be simply by if Choso would come, his cum not only splattered upon her thighs but decorated her panties also. With the first rock of his hips, while his cock was between her thighs, the tip of it brushed against Y/N’s folds causing her to moan. The traction causes an incoherent hiss to pass by Choso’s lips as he’s rocking his cock in between her thighs.

“Fuck.” He uttered, realizing that if just thigh fucking Y/N was causing his brain to feel fuzzy like it did when he smoked weed for the first time—how the hell was he going to feel when he finally got the opportunity to be inside her. His fingers dug into the flesh of her waist as he’s thrusting his cock inward and outward of her thighs. Each movement caused her breasts to jiggle salaciously, and that seemed to add to the list of little things that turned him in while being crammed in this bathroom with her.

“This isn’t fair,” Y/N shutters over the lewd sound of Choso’s cock thrusting between her thighs.

Even though she would complain about how he was only getting off at this. That her clit was throbbing and aching for attention as Choso’s cock was between her thighs. He didn’t even acknowledge her response but instead used his feet to kick at her own to bring her thighs together just a bit more. Even brought his cock up a little bit more—finally giving the woman what she wanted. His cock was just inches away from rubbing against her folds that were decorated with her slit—occasionally, the tip of his fat cock bribes against them before he guided it back to its rightful place.

“Fuck,” Choso uttered, bringing her closer, her back now placed upon his broad chest as his hips bulldozed his cock forward.

He was trying too hard to imagine that this is what her pussy would feel like. That the fiery pit that grew at an increasing rate in his ball sack was a feeling you’ll get immediately when you indulge in her cunt. A couple more pumps of his cock in between her thighs, Choso’s cum squirts out the tip of his cock. To add to the mess he made in between her thighs, he’s pumping his cock some more sloppily. His thick ropes of cum decorated her thighs and her underwear, and Choso finally went limp as his face was red like a tomato, and his cock was a sticky mess. He just thigh fucked the world’s most famous pop star at the moment in the bathroom of his brother’s grandfather's Onigiri shop.

He reaches behind him at the paper towel dispenser to help clean her up. Silence overcame the two before Choso tossed the dirty paper towels in the trash. His face was heated from the interactions, and that tint of red still decorated his face shamelessly. His hair fell in his face, and some strands stuck to his forehead due to the sweat on it. He pulled his boxers and pants back up, buckling them immediately.

As the two shameless musicians were awkwardly cleaning themselves up, Choso, being the gentlemen, used a wet paper towel to wipe off Y/N’s thighs, and his phone that was shoved in his back pocket rang. He ignored it as he figured it’d be Yuji urging him to grab something he forgot in the shop. Or Gojo asking him where he ran off to. But instead, his manager was spam-calling him each time he didn’t answer the phone.

“You should answer that; it could be an emergency.” Y/N points out while fixing her clothes. She knew that as soon as she stepped foot in the apartment she was renting out, she would take the longest shower. Even so, she adored the scent of Choso imprinting her skin.

“You really can’t transition off a tour without a scandal. What the hell happened to you were going to spend time with your brothers and lay low.” His manager’s voice yells through the phone, causing him to pull the device away from his ear.

“I don’t know what the hell you're talking about.”

“Answer me this, Choso. Are you with Y/N L/N right now?”

Choso’s eyes look at Y/N, who is applying a coat of clear lip gloss. Her body is leaning slightly to be closer to the mirror above the sink.

“Maybe…” Choso’s voice trails off, expecting the worst.

“Well, the world knows you’re with her right now. I sent your bodyguard and a private car to come pick you guys up immediately. They’re probably already surrounding that freakin’ onigiri shop.”

Choso didn’t let his manager talk his head off any second longer as he ended the call to force a smile on his face that Y/N knew something was wrong. She’s seen the fake smiles from many people that she has lost count. Something happened.

“Well, my little popstar. I think our careers are about to take a turn.”

#choso kamo smut #choso smut #choso kamo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #anime smut #choso fanfic #black reader #female reader #jjk x black reader #angelshubnetwork #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

575 notes · View notes

evanchantingpeters · 11 days

Text

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 1)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Disclaimer ─ In Part 1 of the series, the main characters are introduced, setting the stage for the encounter of Evan and Y/N to unfold and the sexual energy between them to build up. Things get super steamy and smutty in Part 2.

Warnings (for Part 2) ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, handjob, nudes, handjob, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill :)

Word count ─ 3.8K

18+ > If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

You step out of the shower, steam stirring around you as you wrap your hair turban-style in a towel. The anticipation of a proper night-out since you made the bold move to quit your job in Europe and pursue another life in the US tingles in your veins. It feels like forever since you’ve let loose, and tonight promises to be nothing short of epic.

Plopping down onto your bed, you grab your go-to jar of coconut body butter from the dresser. You squeeze a generous dollop onto your palm and rub your hands together. The creamy texture blends in as you work it onto your skin, leaving it smooth and oh-so-soft.

As you immerse yourself in your ritual, you hear the familiar buzz of a FaceTime call. Glancing over at your bedside table, you see “Adria,” your friend’s name, glowing on the screen. You pick up your phone, still coated in moisturiser, and her face pops up. A look of desperation is written all over her features.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?” you chirp, propping the phone on your desk to finish off your pampering session.

She lets out a dramatic groan. “Send help,” she whines, her voice tinged with panic. “I’m having a meltdown over here. I swear, I got nothing to wear.”

You can’t help but giggle at her faux-crisis. “First-world problems, brain rot,” you tease, sneaking a peek at the heap of clothes behind her. “I see you’ve got quite a selection to pick from.”

Adria pouts, swatting playfully at the camera. “Nah, these don’t count. I need everyone to be ‘she ate and left no crumbs.’ What’re going for tonight? I need some inspo!”

You chuckle sympathetically, holding the phone aloft as you pivot to show her your fit for tonight laid out on your bed. “I’m going for less is more—my thrifted mini satin dress and racing black leather jacket with my military boots and white tube socks for a touch of sass.”

She gives you a strained smile as she takes in your outfit. “Ahh, you pull off that casual vibe effortlessly, babe.”

You flip the camera back to you, shrugging nonchalantly, “I’m casual and proud!”

Adria rolls her eyes with a teasing glint. “Okay, but what about makeup? You gotta glam it up… you know the LA sparkle! That’s how we do it in East Hollywood, at least!”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Nah, I’m feeling the au naturel look. You know I suck with makeup big time—I’d probably end up looking like Pennywise.”

Rather than rehashing your “Why makeup should be banned” manifesto, you choose to dig further into the evening’s plans. “So, who else’s joining us tonight, Ad?”

She rattles off a list of names, both female and male—some known, others unknown—and you nod along. “Gotcha. I’ll be ready by 10.”

“Perf. I’ll swing by to pick you up then. Buckle up for a wild night, biyyyatch!” she exclaims, wiggling her brows at you.

You let out a choked laugh as you observe her grimacing. “Alrighty, catch you soon!”

Once you hang up, you slip into your outfit and let your hair fall loose, fluffing it up for a bit of volume. No need for fancy blowouts tonight—you’re all about that breezy, air-dried look.

With a spritz of perfume and a final check in the mirror, you grab your essentials and head out into the dazzling city lights.

As you strut into the club with your gang, the uplifting beats hit you like a wave of energy. The nostalgic tunes of early 2000’s R&B thump in your chest, urging you to groove with every step. You all weave through the sea of nightclubbers, the party mode building up inside you like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

“Let’s hit the bar!” Tommy, one of the guys and Adria’s boyfriend, shouts over Missy Elliot. You all nod in agreement, eager to keep the high spirits flowing with some booze.

You slither through more partygoers who dance erratically, all while juggling their drinks. Some move smoothly to the rhythm, while others simply jiggle around out of tune.

Neon lights flash and strobe, casting an electric glow over the bartender as he polishes a row of whiskey glasses with cool confidence. A cheeky smile plays on his lips as you hop onto an empty stool before him.

“What can I get you started?” he roars over the music, his voice cutting through the din.

“Coronas all around,” you holler, matching his tone with equal fervour. You hand him a wad of cash chipped in by everyone.

“Coming right up.” With a flick of his wrist, he expertly pops the cap off the bottle, sliding them your way with a wink.

“Thanks,” you mouth, shooting him a grin before heading back to your friends with a tray.

You take a long, satisfying gulp, the crisp taste of beer quenching your thirst. With your beverage in hand, you pace to the dance floor, your friends in tow only metres away.

Your hips swing in harmony with the melody, and your feet glide effortlessly across the ground. Heads turn and whispers follow your path. Some even reach out, uttering unintelligible words, or brush against your shoulder as you pass by.

Ignoring the distractions, you grab Adria and Jasmine, dragging them into the heart of the dance floor while the rest of the group forms a circle around you. The music engulfs you, momentarily sweeping away the grim memories of your pre-relocation life.

With each song that blares through the speakers, your body twists and twirls with fluid grace, each move perfectly timed to the tempo of the music. In that moment, you feel more alive, more liberated than ever before.

As time trickles by, the music continues to pump and the lights swirl around you. You notice Joseph, the lone blond dude in the squad, inching closer and closer to you as the night stretches on.

“Heyo, Y/N! How’s it going?” he greets you with a tap on the shoulder, his voice rumbling near your ear.

“Hey! All good now. How’s you?” you retort with a tight-lipped smile, bringing your Corona to your lips for another sip.

“Now that I’m chatting with you, much better!” he quips back, a hint of mischief in his tone. “How are you liking the States?”

Just as you’re about to respond, joyous screams erupt from Adria and a couple of other girls from your group, catching your attention. Before you can fully process what’s happening, Adria dashes toward you and jumps into your arms, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Girl! Are you on Molly or something? What’s going on?” you mock, smoothing out your dress on the cleavage before you start flashing whoever’s at close vicinity.

“Omg, you won’t believe it!” Adria squeaks, frantically clapping her hands.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Try me.”

“Ahh, my fangirling is through the roof right now! Evan Peters is here,” she cries out, bouncing up and down, squeezing your hand tightly.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Who?”

“Evan Peters, Y/N! The hottie from American Horror Story… Kai Anderson, Cult? Kit Walker, Asylum? Seriously, don’t these ring any bells? Umm… Dahmer? Come on—you’ve watched that series!” she insists, her voice pitch rising as she tries to jog your memory.

A flicker of recognition crosses your face as your friend’s description sinks in. “Oh, right, Evan Peters,” you concede with a faint smile. “I remember now…And?”

Adria’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “And?? He’s in the same space as us, breathing the same oxygen, Y/N!”

You shake your head, trying to inject a dose of reality into her Hollywood-induced haze. “Okay, but let’s be real here. He’s a mega star, so totally out of league. I mean, we’ve got about as much chance with him as a blue whale does with climbing Mount Everest,” you quip and fold your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “And you’ve got a boyfriend, in case you forgot.”

Adria’s enthusiasm deflates slightly as she’s reminded of Tommy. “It’s not the same,” she protests sheepishly, fiddling with her bracelet. “You know how celebrity crushes work. How can I not crave Evan when he’s graced the world with his Tate Langdon role?”

You can’t help but laugh at her delirium. “Ugh, Adria, it’s giving obsession and borderline restraining order from Peters if you keep this up. Let’s just focus on having a blast tonight and drop the celebrity fantasies, okay?”

A couple of hours melt away, and the energy of the dance floor begins to wane. Most of your friends retreat to a nearby table to freshen up. But not you. With two others by your side, you’re on a mission to keep the party alive, letting the music guide your body with a fierce determination.

Mid-twirl, though, your eyes snag on something unexpected—a figure lingering at the fringes of the dance floor, his attractive gaze burning into you like a laser beam, sending a bolt of lightning down your back. It takes a moment for you to register who it is, but when you do, your heart kicks into overdrive.

Evan Peters.

You try to play it cool, biting down on the inside of your cheek to stifle the grin that’s itching to break free. You try to pass it off as just a coincidence, a trick of the light or a delulu figment of your imagination, but when you steal another glance in his direction, you find his eyes still trained on you. This time around, he offers a timid smile.

Your throat feels like it’s swallowed a golf ball as you sense his eyes fixed on you. Desperate to shake off the sudden self-consciousness, you rummage through your tiny shoulder bag for your phone. Your fingers jitter as you feign interest in your screen, scrolling aimlessly through your main menu or typing out gibberish in your notes app.

But even as you try to stay composed, his stare weighs on you like a ton of bricks. Are you tripping? Feeling more awkward and exposed than ever (you don’t have Evan Peters laying eyes on you every day), you motion to your friends that you’re heading to the restroom. Anything to escape the spotlight, even if it’s only for a sec.

This time, you bulldoze through the crowd, head low, with the toilets being your last glimmer of hope for salvation. Or so you think. Just as you’re about to slip away, a warm, soft hand gently closes around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you slowly turn to confront the person obstructing your way. And there he is, Evan Peters in the flesh, standing before you with an enigmatic grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you face him, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. Your mind races a mile a minute—Is this real life? Did you manifest this? Is Evan Peters actually in front of you?

Fuck, Adria’s right. He’s hot as hell, you ruminate, feeling your breath clutching in your throat.

Before you can even gather your thoughts, he greets you with a seductive rasp. “Hey.” His eyes seal with yours in a way that makes your knees turn into jelly.

I just saw you and heard you in person, Evan! Scrap everything I said to Adria. Forget the restraining order. Just slap the handcuffs on me, and do whatever you want... Erhm, I mean, take me into custody cause staring at you should definitely be illegal.

You freeze, unable to tear your eyes away from his handsome dark brown (almost black) eyes and silky tousled curls. A feeble “Hi” is all you manage, your voice barely above a whisper as a nervous flutter stomps onto your stomach.

“Having a good time?” he checks in, his smile widening by the second.

“The asphyxiation I feel right now must be a sure sign that I’m enjoying myself, right?” you reply, fanning your hand in front of your face for dramatic effect.

His throaty laughter bubbles up from deep within him, the sound instantly cranking up your heartbeat. It’s genuine and infectious, like he’s letting down his guard and inviting you into his world, flashing those perfect teeth like they’re on a billboard.

“If you’re suffocating from excitement, then you must be doing something right. But don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out on you. If you turn purple, I’ll dial 911,” he teases, gently lifting your chin with his index finger and giving you a full inspection with feigned seriousness. “Nope, we’re good. So far, all I see is beauty, no signs of death.”

You can feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, so you instinctively lower your head, hoping to hide your rose-tinted face.

You battle to keep it together, but the fact that his hand hasn’t budged from your wrist since your eyes met screams, ‘fainting spell incoming.’ As if that’s enough, his thumb traces soft circles on your skin, sending goosebumps up your arm. “You make me cringe, do it again,” you joke, and you both share a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see what card I should pull next. Here it comes, drumroll—on behalf of everyone in here, I testify to your: ‘I got some serious moves and conquered the dance floor, but I need a breather now.’” he rambles and raises his free hand in mock ovation, his grin laced with mischief.

You chuckle, a surge of confidence brewing within you. “Well, it takes the greatest of them all to verify this. A lifetime of dancing lessons didn’t go down the drain, I guess. I appreciate your testament, sir, and the panel’s verdict,” you coo, bowing theatrically.

Once again, his laughter fills the space between you, warm and hearty.

After a few minutes of silence and a staring contest that makes it agonising for you to breathe, you finally utter, “I said this would be my night, and, apparently, I meant that,” discreetly eyeing him from head to toe, semi-drooling.

“Yeah? Any highlights of the night?” he inquires, his tone dripping with curiosity, and you can’t resist playing along after letting your thoughts slip out loud.

“Nothing yet. But I’m counting on your highlighter to illuminate my way,” you spill out, playfully tilting your head to the side. A sly grin spreads across your lips as you throw the bait, hoping he’ll keep up with your pun game.

His “strike” is immediate as he edges closer to you. “Believe it or not, I’ve got one on me that can change your night from the inside out,” he shoots back, his smile growing, clearly on the same innuendo-laden wavelength as you. You’re a match made in flirtatious banter heaven, true that.

“I need some inside work, that’s for sure. Glad you’re volunteering,” you reply, feeling a rush of heat flood through you at his words. Then, you quickly transition, turning his wrist stroking into a handshake as you introduce yourself.

He hums, gently taking your hand in his, his smile stretching wide enough to reveal his adorable dimples that only add to his charm. “Evan.”

“I know,” you admit, unable to contain your broad smile. “But just an FYI, I haven’t binged-read your fanfics or analysed our astrology charts to see if we’re soulmates. I’ve gone as far as watching Dahmer. Stellar performance, by the way,” you blurt out, still shaking his hand.

He rolls his lips into his mouth to suppress another giggle. “Okay, chill. No need to prove you’re not a psycho. Wanna grab a drink to cool off?”

“No need to ask,” you fire back with equal enthusiasm, both of you grinning like kids in a candy store. Without hesitation, you just follow his lead, diving headfirst into the moment with a reckless abandon, thinking, ‘I’m all in, no matter what crazy idea you’ve got up your sleeve, baby boy.’

He cups your hand in his, his palm firm and reassuring, as he guides you through the throngs of people toward a quieter bar setup located upstairs in the club. The touch makes your head spin, feeling the familiar sensation of heat pooling between your thighs, leaving your undies all moist. You’ve felt sparks like this before, but never quite so intensely, and certainly not so quickly with anyone else.

As you trail behind him, you can’t help but lightly graze the back of his hand, mapping the pathways of his veins with your fingertips. You love a baby face paired with strong arms—he’s exactly your kind of man.

“Maybe it’s better…” he begins once you reach the bar, but the music swells out of the blue, drowning out the remainder of his sentence.

You involuntarily scrunch up your nose and squint, struggling to concentrate and hear him over the blasting tunes. “Come again, sorry?”

Before you can react, he draws closer to you. His breath is warm and tickly against your ear, causing a tremor through your entire body. Not to mention his voice: husky and velvety, making your cunt pulsate for him already.

Damn, things are moving at lightning speed, and you’re struggling to keep pace.

As Evan gets nearer, you catch a subtle yet alluring whiff of cinnamon and cologne. But, actually, it’s the natural scent exuding from his body that has a chokehold over you. Those pheromones he unleashes are like full-blown intoxication, making you lightheaded, your pulse thudding.

You lean in to mimic his gesture and whisper to his ear, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he gently clasps your hand, signalling for you to hold on. As he removes his earplugs, he explains, “Sorry I’ve got very sensitive ears.”

You chuckle, a wicked spark in your eye as you lift a tuft of hair to reveal your own ear protectors. “Great minds think alike,” you cheer.

“No, you didn’t,” he exclaims, eyes widened as you burst out laughing in sync.

As your laughter subsides, Evan’s expression shifts. His eyes bore into yours with a smouldering intensity as if he’s on the verge of revealing a long-held secret or daring to make a move.

But before you can form coherent thoughts or pluck up the courage to speak, Evan blinks fast, breaking the spell. “Shall we get those drinks at last? What’d you like?”

You clear your throat, trying to snap out of your nasty thoughts with Evan being the main character. “I’m down for another Corona, thanks.”

He flashes a quick two-finger salute to the bartender before turning back to you, his lips curving up in a cute, crooked smile. “So, who are you here with tonight?”

“Just some friends,” you confess, your voice trailing off as he raises his bottle to clink it against yours in a toast. His eyes remain glued on yours as he takes a sip, his defined jawline and slender neck at full display begging for your kisses. The intensity of his gaze makes your legs all wobbly. “A-and yourself?” you stammer, breaking eye contact to nervously trace a circular pattern on the rim of the bottle glass with your fingers.

“Same, I came to visit friends during my break. I’m flying back to Vancouver in ten days to carry on filming Tron.”

Your grip tightens around the cool glass of your drink as Evan drops the bombshell. You feel the liquid catch in your throat as you choke, a sudden surge of panic hitting your chest. You cough, the sound harsh and uncontrolled, your body reacting instinctively to the news.

“Canada?” you manage to croak out between coughs, your voice hoarse. You struggle to swallow past the lump, your throat raw and constricted. Your chest heaves as you fight to regain control.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks with a sense of urgency, his forehead creased with deep lines of worry. Leaning in, his eyes search yours for any sign of distress. His hand reaches out to steady you, giving you comforting back rubs.

You nod weakly, your eyes watering from the effort of suppressing another coughing fit.

“Let me fetch some water for you,” he offers, his voice soft and soothing. He sprints to the bar, returning seconds later with a glass of water and a concerned frown etched on his forehead.

“Thanks,” you mumble, accepting the glass with a trembling hand, keeping the bottle of beer in your other hand. The cool water soothes your parched throat, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you as Evan tenderly ruffles your hair and massages your scalp to calm you down. Hint: his hands on you work wonders.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, looking up to meet his gaze again, your heart hammering. Everything else fades away, leaving only the reassuring presence of Evan before you.

You can practically sense the sexual tension between you. His stare flickers between your lips and eyes, his own mouth slightly parted. It’s like a silent invitation that hangs between you like a charged wire ready to ignite, daring you to take a plunge and smother his face with kisses. And then suck his dick so hard that his stomach caves in like a Caprisun.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve just met; he has you at hello and you’d spread your legs for this man without a second thought…

You gulp as you realise he’s almost inches away from you. You shudder when his fresh breath—an irresistible blend of mint and alcohol—wafts into my mouth, blowing stray strands of hair off your face. “You’re leaving in ten days?” you sigh, puckering your lips and giving him a puppy-eyed look.

“Yes, but I’m still here,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on your lips as he leans into your stool. With a single knee, he slowly splits your legs and slides in between them.

“You’re here now. Wanna be at my place next?” you suggest, and he stares back at your eyes with a crooked smirk, his lips curled mischievously.

Without warning, his lips brushed against yours, throwing your arousal off the chart. The torturously slow pace that his lips slide along yours makes your sex leap, pop, and drip. Soft moans escape your bodies as he grabs your ass to pull you in, squeezing it along the way as his chest cushions firmly against your breasts.

He smiles against your lips as you tangle your fingers in his hair and part your mouth, giving him the green light to roughen the kiss. His hard rock boner already presses against your wet centre when his tongue invades your mouth with primitive force, swirling and twirling with yours in a passionate dance.

“How long to get to yours?” he grunts out of breath, wincing from the uncomfortable angle his stiff cock has now taken in his trousers.

“It’s roughly a ten-minute ride, give or take,” you pant, adjusting the hem of your dress.

“Off we go.”

170 notes · View notes

dead-dove-yandere · 2 months

Note

Yandere actor x extra’s character reader (idk how to shorten it tbh kinda wants to suggest a small spin on an original thing I saw, maybe the actor mistakes the reader as one of the leading females? Idk it’s your idea enjoy my love Friend)

I wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be an AU of a prexisting OC or if you wanted a new OC - either way, I decided to make a new OC. I hope this is okay!

OC Intro - Chase

Playboy Yandere

Male ♡ 26 ♡ Human ♡ Killer Actor

TW: Mentions of death, murder and serial killing, stalking, obsession, objectifying behaviour, manipulation

♡ - He’s a household name, he’s adored, he’s good looking, he’s rich - Chase has everything a star could dream of, including the company of anyone he desires.

♡ - He was known to be a flirt and a playboy, having slept with most of his co-stars at some point or other. His fame and wealth had made him entitled and people were just another luxury for him to use and discard.

♡ - So when he walked into set on the first day of a new films production, and he saw you sitting in a corner, flicking through a script, he naturally assumed that you’d be the next notch on his bedpost, although it was a little strange to him that he didn’t recognise you - perhaps he’d just somehow missed the other films that you’d starred in.

♡ - He walks up to you, confident, catching your gaze as you briefly look away from the script. He flashes you a calculated smile, one that looks friendly but lacks any warmth.

♡ - “Practicing your lines?” He asks, leaning over you until you’re both unbearably close. “You know, it’s easier to memorise them with someone else. Perhaps we could go somewhere quiet sometime and practice together.”

♡ - You give him a perplexed look, one that bruises his ego. He holds back a sneer. Who were you to think that you were somehow too good for him?

♡ - Before he can say anything, the director comes over with another actor, pulling Chase away as he introduces him to his actual co-star.

♡ - Chase is grateful for the sunglasses he was wearing which hid his surprised expression as the penny finally dropped. You weren’t his co-star. You were just an extra. That’s why he didn’t recognise you.

♡ - No wonder you gave him a strange look when he tried to lure you back to his dressing room, it wasn’t that you thought you were too good for him, it’s that you thought he was too good for you.

♡ - But he didn’t care that you weren’t some famous star like the people he usually seduced - he was already smitten with you, and he was determined to win - and break - your heart at any cost it took.

♡ - He kept his sunglasses on nearly all the time on set in order to watch you without being noticed. He’d flash you more cold, forced smiles when he could. You’d sometimes come on set early to find that some lavish, anonymous gift had been left in your dressing room.

♡ - And when he still wasn’t getting enough chances to talk to you, he decides that he had to step it up a notch.

♡ - When his co-star ends up the latest victim of a serial killer, it’s tragic news that shakes the film industry to its core, and screeches production of the film to a halt - after all, how can you film without one of the leading actors?

♡ - Chase is the first to suggest running an audition from among the pool of extras - he even volunteers to help judge the auditions himself, to ensure the new actor has good chemistry with him.

♡ - And he makes sure to fill the director and producer with stories of how you were such a good friend and confidant for his late co-star, even if he was stretching the truth somewhat.

♡ - The night after the auditions, you end up leaving late after being the last to go. You aren’t sure if your performance was good enough, but it doesn’t matter too much to you. You like being an extra, and like blending in to the background. You have no clue that someone else has other ideas for you.

♡ - Chase sees you leaving late and offers you a lift with his chauffeur. After all, you can’t walk alone in the dark - there’s a serial killer about, and you never know just how close they may be.

Personality

Chase is bold, brash, aggressive and cold. He’s materialistic and to him, every action is a means to an end, the end usually being his own hedonistic pleasure. He relentlessly pursues his darling and isn’t afraid to try buttering them up with lavish gifts and displays of wealth, nor is he afraid to get violent the moment his gifts don’t win his darling over. He enjoys killing for fun occasionally, able to cover his tracks with the resources and privileges he’s accrued over a wildly successful career and while he’d love to see his darling crying and begging for mercy, he’d never kill them - it’s so much more fun to keep them alive, so he can toy with them over and over.

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

200 notes · View notes

thatlovinfeelin · 7 months

Text

He Don't Like The Lights | Bradley Bradshaw Actor AU|

Waiting tables wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t your favorite job either. Not that you hated it, because you didn’t. For the most part you liked your coworkers, your roommate Celeste being one of them. Your bosses weren’t horrible, and the pay was alright. You were able to pay your bills and stash some extra cash away for savings. Soon, or at least you hoped it would be soon, you would be able to move out of the somewhat shitty place with Celeste and get a better apartment. Maybe even leave Virginia altogether.

“Hey, I need you to take table five.”

“But it’s not in my section tonight,” You argue with your manager.

“Just take it, okay? It's a single and you’re better with singles than Celeste,” He replied, shooing you away with his hands.

You let out a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes as you grabbed your waitress book and headed towards the single guy sitting at the table. You never sized up tables before you started serving them, never tried to write people off before they had a chance to show their colors.

But you could tell that this guy was hot just by the way he was sitting with a baseball cap tugged low. He at least knew how to wear a damned hat unlike some of the guys who came in with it halfway on their heads.

“Hi, welcome in, can I get you started with anything to drink?” You asked cheerfully as you stopped in front of him.

The bar was relatively empty, which came as a surprise since it was a weekend and the weather was fairly nice. Maybe everyone was still out at the beach and would be in before dinner ended. Maybe you would get lucky and end up having a good tip night to make up for the shitfest that was last night.

“Uh, just a Bud on draft if you have it.”

“Bud lite?” You question.

“No, Buswieser, the real shit,” There’s a hint of a laugh in his voice.

“I’ve got it in a bottle, is that okay?”

“Yeah that works,” He replies, tipping his head back to look up at you.

It takes you a second to register who’s actually looking at you. You’ve seen those dark hazel eyes on screen plenty of times, because Cele is obsessed with his movies. However, what really takes you back is how normal he looks in an old beat up t-shirt and shorts. He doesn’t look like the glamourous actor that you’ve seen.

“I’m sorry- are you,” You stop and lick your lips.

You aren’t nervous, because you aren’t obsessed with him. His movies are okay, and you have to admit he is more attractive in person than he is on screen. But you’ve never been one to fall face first over someone who’s in the industry, not that you’ve ever had the chance to before.

“Are you Bradley Bradshaw?” The question comes out as a whisper as you lean down, trying to be as quiet as you can.

He pales for a moment, waiting to see if you’re going to fully freak out on him before smiling sheepishly, “Caught that easily, huh?”

“You’re lucky it’s just me and not the other girl over there,” You inform him, “She’d be on the floor, and I know that because I live with her and share a TV with her. But since it’s just me,” you smile at him before backing away a step, “A bottle of Bud coming right up.”

He smiles and relaxes into his seat before looking back down at his phone on the table. You can’t help but smile as you make your way towards the bar and the POS system to start his ticket.

Bradley Bradshaw is eating in the bar and no one but you knows. He just happened to be lucky enough that Celeste had the one big table and was therefore too busy to take him, even though it was her section.

“Thanks for taking that table,” She sounds out of breath as she sets a drink tray down next to you, “I’m swamped with those fuckers over there. Tourists on vacation who want everything at that very moment. Including three Virgin Strawberry Daiquiris for the kids. I want to shoot myself.”

You smile to yourself as you make your way around to the beer cooler to grab a nice cold bottle of Bud, “Oh don’t worry about it. He shouldn’t cause any trouble anyway.”

If only she knew.

“Here you go,” You say, sitting the open bottle down on his table, “Do you need a minute to look over the menu? Or do you have any questions?”

“What do you recommend?” He asked you, looking back up.

“Pulled Pork Mac’n’cheese, easy,” You replied almost instantly, “Hands down my favorite dish here, after our Crab Dip appetizer, but I also eat that for a full meal.”

He smiles up at you and closes the menu before handing it back to you, “I’ll try that Pork Mac then.”

“Sounds good, I’ll get that right in!” You smile triumphantly before backing away once again, “Holler if you need anything, okay? I’ll be back to check on you before the food comes out.”

Back at the bar, Celeste is finally able to stop for a minute and catch her breath. She looks miserable and it makes you want to laugh a little. Her night would be very different if she just took Table Five instead.

She’s hunched over her phone reading an article, which normally you would call her out on being on her phone but tonight you can’t be bothered. It’s slow enough and her phone is hidden anyway.

“Hey, Bradshaw is up for a bunch of awards,” She grins, “He so deserves them. You remember how great he was in that war movie, right! That’s what’s being nominated.”

“Hmm?” You question before your brain seems to catch up with you, “Oh, yeah. No, he was great in that movie. Whole cast was, honestly.”

“Exactly! I hope they sweep at the Oscars, they all deserve it so much.”

You have to hide your smile as you type away on the POS to put in the order. In the back, you can hear your kitchen jamming out to some sort of heavy metal meets classic rock mix which isn’t all that unusual for them. There are some days you’ve come to work and they’ve been listening to Disney music. At this point you can’t even try to say that you understand what their playlists consist of.

It takes ten minutes before you’re walking back over to the table with another beer in hand. You noticed he was starting to run low and you know better than to let a drink ever go empty. That was one of the first things you learned when you became a waitress.

“Brought you another one,” You announce, setting it down.

“Thanks, appreciate it,” He replies, “And uh, thanks for not freaking out on me. Would’ve been a bitch if I got swarmed in here.”

“No worries, I’m not a rabid fan or anything,” You laugh, “But I am curious as to why you’re here of all places. I thought you lived in LA?”

“I do,” He nods, “But this was home long before LA was. I was born here in Virginia, I like to come back and visit family from time to time.”

“Oh,” You’re taken back by his honesty. He could’ve easily told you that it was none of your business, which is what you expected, “That’s really nice actually.”

Celeste calls you, saying the kitchen wants you. Reluctantly you force yourself away from the table and towards the set of double swinging doors in the middle of the bar. Something about Bradley Bradshaw is drawing you in and you aren’t sure if you want to resist it or not. Surely he wouldn’t remember your name in a few hours. He’d forget about the server from Virginia the second he got on a flight back to LA and the way of the world would take back over.

“Here’s that pork mac,” Chef told you, nudging the dish in the window, “Get it out of my sight.”

“Sir yes sir,” You reply, grabbing the hot dish, “Thank you!”

“Yeah yeah, fuck off,” He grumbled, which only made you smile.

You made your way back towards Bradley’s table with a smile. You could see why Celeste was so enamored with him. There was just something about him that made you want to sit down and hang on his every word. Plus, he was hot as hell. He still had the mustache from his previous role, and was trying to hide behind his ball cap. He looked normal, almost.

You wondered how other people here saw him? Were they even paying attention to the bonafide star that was hiding out in the corner? Celeste would piss herself if she knew he was here, hell, you might even piss yourself if he smiled at you again. The thought made you a little weak in the knees.

“Your pork mac,” You said, sitting it down on the table in front of him, “Be careful, it’s actually pretty hot.”

“Mmm, looks fantastic,” He nearly groaned, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, you don’t even know if you’ll like it!” You laughed, “But I hope you enjoy, and let me know if I can get you anything else.”

You hop away from him again, taking a deep breath as you go. Maybe the night wouldn’t be as bad as you thought.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradsaw x reader

301 notes · View notes

radiowallet · 7 months

Text

Home

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno Summary: Dieter takes Marcus to a party in the valley. WC: 4.5K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content. Exclusive M/M dynamics. Written in third-person POV, male protagonists. Anal sex, dirty talk, kissing, cum play, semi-public sex. Small angsty moments. Yearning. So much yearning. AU Marcus Moreno (no wife, no Missy). A lot of purple prose and waxing poetic.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been a very very long time since I've shared any writing here. I don't have any good excuses other than real-life stressors, mental health and anxiety, and the overall stress of being on Tumblr really really got to me. I'm trying to ease my way back in. Slowly. I've really enjoyed catching up on all the amazing fics you guys have been writing. Thank you to everyone, still here or otherwise. Even when I was off dealing with irl stuff, I could feel the support.

Pretend Alleyways Masterlist II Main Masterlist

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

Marcus chewed at his nail bed, surveying the house from the backseat of his Uber. It was hardly the first time he’d pulled up to the Sherman Oaks home. He was comfortable with the routine at this point. Tapping in the code for the front gate with practiced ease. The same one Dieter had scribbled onto the back page of a forgotten script after that first night together in New York City, his cell ringing incessantly from his back pocket, a car waiting down the curb to whisk him away. Marcus swore he could still taste the mint and menthol on the actor’s breath when he stepped in close and pressed the paper into his hands, kissing him until his toes curled.

“Please say you’ll come visit.”

After that, it had been one strategically planned visit after the other. Marcus was almost mathematical in his process, arranging flights out west around his patrol schedule, switching shifts, and taking on extra duties just to rationalize the time away. Burning the candle at both ends but not caring even in the slightest, happy to run his tank on empty. He’d drive all fucking night if it meant more time with Dieter.

So he took to the task with a vigilant level of focus, texting details and arrival times, the actor responding with a barrage of emojis, always ending with a heart.

Marcus liked the way the little pixelated picture made his stomach flip.

Once together, it became less of a routine and more of a dance, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm that Marcus had no desire to predict. They would lose themselves in each other, wrapping tightly around the other, the heat impossible to turn away from. There were late nights and early mornings, the color of the sun replacing the hours on the clock. Sometimes, he would give up on sleep all together, content to match the actor’s eccentricities, watching Dieter move from room to room, minute to minute, until the other man would return to his arms.

But as each visit came to a close, Marcus would find himself falling back on easy habits, his mind already making plans and rearranging schedules, focusing on that instead of the overbearing weight of goodbye.

In the middle of one farewell, Dieter had grinned and nipped at his bottom lip, a tease curling around the curve of his cheek.

“Don’t worry so much about the vigilante shit, sweet boy. You’re welcome anytime.”

Marcus had frowned at that, but Dieter was unfazed, humming an off-key pop song under his breath before giving one more piece of advice.

Be spontaneous.

Marcus had gnawed on those two words the entire plane ride home, the concept both enticing and diabolical at once. He imagined all the ways he would have spoiled Dieter if they lived in the same zip code. Spur of the moment cups of coffee, flowers just because, nights in and out and everything in between. But even those daydreams felt out of reach, Marcus unable to let go of the need to control everything. Everything. Everything that he possibly could.

Except Deiter Bravo.

The actor was bound for overseas, a six-month shoot looming ahead, lonely and large. They had spent the weekend before much the same way they had any other. Twisted together, sweat and cum and lips and hands pressed into bare skin, ignoring the ticking of traitorous time. Cruel miles were taking the other man away from him, and Marcus couldn’t stop the swell of jealous fear flaring inside his heart.

Would he even be missed when the whole luminous, wonderful, exciting world was waiting for Dieter on the other side of the tarmac?

A deep cough from the front seat dragged him back to the present, and before he could second guess himself again, Marcus climbed out of the car, tapping out five stars with one hand and grabbing his overnight bag with the other. He hesitated, just the smallest moment of debate, before he knocked, three sharp raps on the large black door. There was a shout from inside, Dee’s voice alerting someone he would get it, a breath and a curse as the lock was fiddled with, and then they were standing face to face after only 39 hours apart.

Dieter seemed shocked to see him and he didn't bother hiding it, his jaw dropping in time with his arms, the shirt he had been buttoning hanging open to reveal his bare chest. Marcus couldn’t help but steal a glance of tan skin and a soft belly, licking his lips in anticipation. When Dee called his attention back up, the other man was smiling wide.

“This is…”

“A surprise?”

“A great fucking surprise.”

It was almost a blur after that. Fumbling hands and broken laughter as they came together in a messy kiss. They managed to make it up the stairs and down the hall, Dieter’s bed barely breaking their fall.

Marcus wanted to take his time, should have been taking his time, but Dieter’s voice was in his ear, thanking him — thanking him? — for showing up tonight. Thanking him and begging him and pressing salt-slicked lips into the curve of his neck. And before he could breathe the other man in, savor the moment that was coming out of nowhere, they stripped away each and every layer, Dieter panting beneath the hurried press of Marcus’s fingers deep inside.

Sooner rather than later, Marcus was sliding into the other man one final time, their hips flush and their fingers laced. He came with a groan, face buried into the dip of Dieter’s neck, while the actor sunk his teeth into his shoulder, the pleasure burning away into the edges of pain. Only after they both found their breath, bodies pliant and limbs loose, did Marcus find his voice.

“Do you want to order in?”

Dieter didn’t say anything and Marcus craned his neck up to peek past the other man’s chin and catch a glimpse of him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Did you already eat? Because that’s okay.”

“No…,” he started, fingers tracing a line of muscle from the top of his shoulder and back around, lingering along the teeth marks he left there only minutes earlier. “I haven’t eaten. I…there’s this thing I have to….well, not have to. I was getting ready for it when you knocked—“

“Dee?”

“There’s a party,” he finally blurted out, eyes finding the swing of the ceiling fan above, a grimace pulling his lips into a jagged line, a deep shade of pink settling on his cheeks.

Marcus leaned up on his elbow, watching the small battle of wills dragging across Dieter’s face. He thought maybe he should try to comfort the other man but he was suddenly anxious, those creeping realities working their way up his spine.

“A party?”

“Yeah, it’s sort of this farewell thing my friends are throwing,” he explained, not needing to. “Really, just an excuse to get blitzed.”

The lack of eye contact suddenly made much more sense.

“You wanted to go.”

It wasn’t a question.

Dieter was up and over him in a flash, one large hand bending around Marcus’s jaw, thumb pressing the seam of his lips shut. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Marcus pursed his lips, the pad of Dieter’s thumb still pressing firm. He felt the callous from where Dee cheated his paintbrush, a perfect spot to push a kiss before pulling away.

“You want to go.”

Dieter searched his face, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, trying to pull apart the determined set of Marcus’s jaw. When he came up empty-handed, he fell back to his elbows with an exaggerated sigh, one large hand still cupping the cut of the hero’s cheekbone, keeping his thumb close enough to touch.

“I want to go with you.”

———————

Marcus smiled from where he was leaning against the doorway, watching Dieter rummage through his ridiculously sized closet, a string of muttered musings leaving him as he pulled item after item off of hangers. The Heroic had slipped back into his jeans and t-shirt once the decision had been made that they would attend the party together, not really packing (or owning) anything that fit the L.A. scene.

He was two steps towards the bathroom, intent on fixing his messy hair when Dee stopped him with a strong grip on his elbow.

“Leave it,” he teased, a quick kiss pressed to his lips, fingers tugging at one of the sweat-slicked curls.

Now he was standing behind him, sliding a stone-washed jean jacket up one arm and then the other, one more kiss, this time gifted to the back of his neck. The jacket hangs a bit loose around him, Marcus guessing a mix between the cut and style, and Dieter’s broader frame both at play. He couldn’t help himself, tugging the collar to his nose and inhaling deeply, the smell of weed and cologne and something subtle sweet filling his lungs.

He felt Dieter’s eyes, watching him carefully in the reflection of the mirror, his hands finding the dip of his waist beneath the bulky fabric, gripping hard then soft, one, two, three times. Marcus took in the pair of them — sex-mussed hair and bright blush on him, wild eyes, and a teasing smile on Dieter — and he suddenly had no desire to go to this party. Any party.

No.

All he wanted was for Dieter to pull this jacket off the same way he had so easily slipped it on, and drag him back down to the safety of the mattress.

“Come on, sweet boy,” he hummed, the hook of his nose tracing the shell of Marcus’s ear. “Sooner we get there, sooner I get to take you home.”

The word followed Marcus down the stairs and out to the car, his stomach flipping each time he let the meaning of it roll around inside his head.

Home?

———————

Driving in L.A. was an experience in and of itself. Marcus had made his own attempts, managing to find a rhythm in the few times he had been sent out to the west coast on assignment. It wasn’t much different than driving in any other city, as long as you were prepared to sit in what felt like endless hours of traffic. Of course, Marcus had the pleasure of abusing side streets and off-ramps when it came down to emergency situations.

Driving with Dieter behind the wheel was a different experience altogether. He seemed unfettered by speed limits or traffic lights, one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around Marcus’s knee, singing along to the song on the radio but only getting about half the words right. If not for his powers and years of honing his reflexes, Marcus would have maybe suggested he do the driving when he was in town.

As it was, it was nice to settle into the plush leather seat and listen to Dieter’s slightly off-key voice, his hand squeezing Marcus’s knee in time with the beat of the music. He leaned back and closed his eyes, weighing the risk of asking Dieter to just keep driving. Maybe if they kept going, all night and all day, they could avoid the inevitable goodbyes looming in the distance.

———————

The last time Marcus and Dieter had been at a party together, they had only ever heard of each other, recognizing names and faces from newspapers and movie screens. They didn’t know any different than what was said in headlines or plastered on billboards, rumors and hearsay coloring in their opinions of one another. How many assumptions had Marcus made about the actor upon that first meeting? That he was pompous. Self-centered. Selfish. An addict. An asshole. A monster.

Or maybe Marcus was afraid that was how Dieter saw him.

The monster in the night. The shadow that lurked in the corner. Fighting away the evils of the world, the palms of his hands so very dirty with blood and secrets and violence. Living in the between of good and bad and never knowing where he really stood.

But when their eyes met across that darkened alley, only the glow of Dieter’s cigarette casting shadows between them, those half-truths and packaged lies that Marcus took for granted started to fall away. Somewhere between their small secrets and one smokey kiss goodnight, he started to learn who Dieter Bravo really was.

This party was different in so many ways than that first elegant affair. Gone was the light classical music, replaced with something loud, a heavy bass and fast lyrics. Bowls of chips instead of passed trays. Stiff black and white was traded in for soft denim, Dieter’s scent surrounding Marcus from room to room. They entered the party together, no longer separate, no longer strangers, and instead more.

So much more.

Dieter’s arm was wrapped around Marcus’s waist, holding him close by his side as they navigated the packed mansion. The crowd parted around them, little waves of people ebbing and flowing to make room for the two men, boisterous cheers of joy raining down upon them. Dieter preened beneath the attention, his smile wide and his cheeks warm, the hand wrapped around Marcus’s waist squeezing hard to grab the Heroic’s attention.

“They like to make a fuss,” he hummed into Marcus’s ear.

He couldn’t help but cock his own grin back, turning his head just enough to brush his lips along the shell of Dieter’s ear, delighting in the shiver that followed. “I think you like the fuss.”

———————

They get separated about an hour in, an inevitability between the number of people vying for Dieter’s attention and the sheer size of the house. Marcus excused himself to the bathroom, trying and failing not to be annoyed when the first empty one he found was on the opposite end of the party. By the time he made it back to where he left Dieter, the other man had moved, now sitting on a couch, friends and fans alike draped around him.

There was something strange about watching Dieter Bravo in what some would consider his natural habitat. He was bright and shiny and impossible to look away from. He almost looked relaxed, his arms thrown over the back of the sofa and his legs stretched out long, only the tap tap tap of his heel giving him away.

Marcus wanted to insert himself. To crowd himself beside the other man and press his palm to the bend of his knee in hopes of soothing away the small tremor of anxiety, but he hesitated, his own worries holding him in place. So he stayed where he was, back glued to the wall, arms crossed and frown firm, as he tried to decipher the scene playing out in front of him.

Was Dieter’s laugh real just then? Or was the one Marcus had teased out of him hours prior? The sounds seemed so similar, a copy of a copy that looked and felt and sounded real. Were his cheeks pink because he preferred their attention over Marcus’s? Or was it because this room was too damn hot? What did it mean when Dieter touched her knee? Or kissed his cheek? Or leaned a little bit more into their touch?

And why did Marcus care?

He didn’t consider himself a jealous man.

But it almost felt inevitable, the dark tendrils of jealousy seemingly always present, ever since that fateful moment in the alleyway, smoke and secrets traded away for unspoken promises for more. Marcus clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, watching the other man glow beneath the attention of others. Was it merely a reflection back of the attention poured upon him? The mirrors of a disco ball catching in the light and shining for the delight of others? Or was Dieter just enjoying another moment in the limelight?

Marcus couldn’t seem to see the line between real and fake, or what side he stood on.

Someone handed him a drink in the midst of his brooding, and the sting of the alcohol paired well with his bitter mood. He was trapped in a hell of his own making, refusing to look away from the crowd gathered around Dieter, but hating every second of it.

The jealousy burned inside of him. What had just been something dark mingling in the background was now present and in full force. Marcus was jealous. Jealous at how effortlessly Dieter lived his life, able to navigate crowds and fame and fervor without ever breaking a sweat. Jealous at how his smile seemed just as bright as it had when he opened his door hours earlier. Jealous at how someone else held the attention of his sweet brown eyes.

And suddenly there was fear. Icy cold and horrifying reality.

Marcus didn’t belong here. Here with these pretty people and their clean lines and bright lights. He was messy edges and dirty hands, stained with years of violence that would never scrub clean. There was dirt on his ledger and red on his chest, and Dieter was beautiful. So very very beautiful.

Another wave of panic gripped tight at Marcus’s throat.

When was the last time he told Dieter he was beautiful? Yesterday? Or the day before that? Either way, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly. And he couldn’t fathom a world where he lost the chance to say it again.

He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t lose him.

The lights above them flickered, an unwelcome side effect of his superpowers, Marcus’s unruly emotions too much to handle all at once. It was just enough to drag everyone’s attention up, stealing their eyes away from Dieter, but only briefly. The actor caught his gaze in the small interim, brows pinched and lips curved, his sharp mind putting the puzzle together. Marcus blushed beneath the scrutiny, feeling very much like a child caught in the midst of a crime. He slammed the cup down on the nearest surface he could find and shoved his dirty hands in the pockets of Dieter’s jacket, and turned away, the lights flickering one last time as he made a quick and embarrassing exit.

From behind he could hear the shout of a stranger.

“Hey, Dee where’s your boyfriend headed?”

Marcus was so focused on the fact that someone else called him ‘Dee’ that he missed the way Dieter's eyes lit up at the word boyfriend.

The bathroom he had found earlier was blissfully empty, and he took care to lock the door behind him. He braced himself against the sink, the cool porcelain a balm to the heat of his palms, breathing in and out, sharp and fast, to match the beat of his heart. A knock came seconds later, Dieter’s voice chasing the sound.

“Let me in, Marcus.”

It didn’t sound like a request.

Marcus unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist, and the actor slipped in, eyes pinning him in place as he locked the door behind him. For a moment both of them refused to speak, 2 feet of space between them, and enough silence to last a lifetime. It was Dieter who finally broke the tension, stepping forward until Marcus was within his reach, the palm of his hand cupping his cheek to keep him close.

“Flattered as I am, I can’t decide if I like jealous on you or not.”

Marcus knew it was foolish to lie at this point. If his fucking superpowers hadn’t given him away, then storming off surely had, and any denial would have rung hollow. Besides, they had promised. Months ago, in an opulent hotel room, cum and sweat sticking them together. They promised to always be honest with each other.

“I don’t belong here, Dee.”

“Shut up.” The sentiment came out as a tease, the tip of Dieter’s thumb tracing the stubble along Marcus’s cheek, but the look on his face was serious.

Marcus shook his head, unsure how to say what had seemed so clear to him only minutes ago. “I’m not…I’m not g–”

“I swear to fucking all, if you say the word ‘good,’ Moreno.”

His mouth clamped shut, and he smiled for the first time since he left Dieter’s side earlier in the night. The other man yanked him in for a quick kiss, only pulling a breath away when he spoke again.

“You are better than all of us, sweet boy. Please tell me you know that?”

Marcus wanted to shake his head in disagreement, the very idea that Dieter saw the good in him too much to bear, but the actor was already kissing him again, lips slanting sweetly along his own. When they broke apart for the second time, Dieter said it again, and then again, each time pairing a kiss with his words. Marcus thought maybe he would have kissed him a hundred times and then a hundred more, praise and adoration passed between them until the inevitable end of time caught up.

But then Dieter crowded in closer, kissing him with much more fervor, his intent clear. Hands scrambled as belts were tugged free and pants were pulled down, bodies twisting until Marcus was plastered to Dieter’s back. He slipped inside the broader man easily, still slick with his release from earlier. Dieter whined at the stretch, pressing back into Marcus, fingers curling around the edge of the bathroom counter as he began to beg.

“Hard, baby. Please.”

Marcus nipped at Dieter’s ear, refusing to move, the entire length of him buried to the hilt inside him. “How hard?”

“Hard,” Dieter begged again, squirming in Marcus’s tight grip. “Hard as you can. Need to feel you. F-feel so good.”

It was an intoxicating rush, reducing Dieter Bravo to stumbling pleas and wanton moans, and Marcus swore as long as he was able to pull air into his lungs he refused to take that feeling for granted. He pressed a soft kiss to Dieter’s skin and gently nudged his nose to the back of his head, coaxing his gaze up to meet Marcus’s in the mirror.

He dragged his hand up Dieter’s chest, stopping to feel the steady thump of his heart, one, two, three beats, before moving up to wrap his fingers around the other man’s throat. He whined again, writhing to and fro, the sound more pitiful with each passing second that Marcus refused to move.

“I’ve got you, mi cielo. I’ve got you,” he hummed the promise, pressing another kiss to Dieter’s sweat-damp curls. He squeezed the actor’s throat again, watching as his cock seemed to pulse in time with the action. He bit back his own groan, his own cock painfully hard where he was buried inside the other man.

“M-marcus…please…”

When he finally moved, it was slow, almost torturous for the both of them, but Marcus refused to be rushed. Not this time. Fuck any and everyone who dared to knock on that door. That dared to interrupt them. That dared to break between this moment. He pulled the other man closer, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other still gripping tight to his throat. Dieter’s hands were still scrambling, designer soaps and over-priced products falling to the floor as he seeked some sort of leverage. He finally found it, stonewashed denim bunching between his fingers as he dug them into Marcus’s forearms.

And only then did Marcus give into his request, snapping his hips as hard as he could, teeth sinking into the curve of Dieter’s neck. There would be bruises, bad ones, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too overwhelmed at the thought of marking the other man as his own. Dieter didn’t seem to mind either, begging Marcus again and again to give him everything he had.

“Want to feel it,” he sobbed, the pleasure just on the other side of pain. “Want to feel you when I’m gone. Please.”

“You will, baby. I promise,” Marcus growled. “You’ll feel me for days. You won’t forget me. P-please… don’t forget me.”

The admission fell out of Marcus before he could stop it, along with his own broken sobs to match. The pain and tears burst to life, the broken pieces he had hidden all over his body finding new life as he begged Dieter to take it all with him. Each slam of his hips and bruising touch of his hands. Every bite from his teeth and kiss from his lips. The words and the promises and the things neither of them knew how to say but felt all the same.

“Take me with you, Dee. Please, take me with you.”

“I will, sweet boy,” he gasped, his body shaking beneath Marcus’s anguished hands. “Sweet boy. Good boy. I promise.”

Dieter came first, though Marcus wasn’t sure how, his sobs and sighs of pleasure long past any sort of coherence. His cock twitched and pulsed, coming completely untouched. Marcus watched Dieter’s face break apart in the reflection of the mirror, his brown eyes wild and skin flushed, lips parting around a feral scream.

Marcus fell apart in kind, sparks of heat bursting at the base of his spine as tight velvet squeezed around him, Dieter’s voice in his ear, his jacket sticking to his skin. He spilled inside the other man, tears and spit and snot pressed into Dieter’s neck, little words of praise coaxing him through the brunt of it. Eventually, the tears turned to laughter, the two of them clinging tighter as they made guesses at how many people heard them.

“Either way, I hope they enjoyed the show because I sure did,” Dieter teased, nipping his teeth on the hinge of Marcus’s jaw.

They did a piss poor job of cleaning up, Dee’s cum barely wiped clean from the porcelain with a towel found below the counter, too high a thread count for something so filthy but neither man really gave two shits to look for an alternative. The products were tossed haphazardly into the sink, the idea of stacking them neatly ridiculous. They both agreed; you get what you ask for when you throw a party in the valley.

Marcus took better care when it came time to clean Dieter up. He warmed up the water from the sink as best he could, using that same fancy towel from before to wipe up the trickle of cum slipping slowly down his backside. He couldn’t stop from stealing one small indulgence, using his thumb to press some of himself back inside the other man, Dieter’s legs visibly shaking from the sudden stimulation. Marcus shushed him with a soft kiss to one of the many bite marks littered across his neck, humming out a quiet apology.

“Do they hurt?”

“They do,” Dieter grinned, tilting his chin to admire the marks as he tugged his jeans up over the swell of his ass. “I’m gonna need a few more before I get on that plane tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmm, definitely.”

Dieter pressed something hard into Marcus’s hand and when he looked down he could see it was his car keys, the silver teeth catching in the light.

“Take me home, sweet boy. I have plans for you.”

There was that word again, breathed out so easily, like a promise he knew he would keep.

Home.

#Marcus Moreno #Dieter Bravo #Marcus Moreno fic #Dieter Bravo fic #Marcus Moreno x Dieter Bravo #mlm #we can be heroes #the bubble #pedro pascal characters

103 notes · View notes

writemekpop · 1 year

Text

Home Alone | Kim Jongin (Kai)

Summary: Your husband Kai accuses you of not trusting him with your baby daughter.

Genre: New parents AU, domestic, angsty, house hubby Kai

Word Count: 0.8k

You were trying to balance the dangerous job of straightening your hair while buttoning up a onesie for your one-year-old. The hot blades wavered ever closer to the soft blue cotton.

That was when you got the call. You threw down the phone. “My mother’s sick! She can’t take Jasmine!”

Your husband Kai sprang up. He had been kneeling on the floor, building a house of cards in the pristine emptiness of the living room you had just cleaned. The house collapsed with a sigh.

“I’ve got to leave,” you groaned, lifting your baby daughter Jasmine into your arms. “Hey Jazzy, have you ever been to a board meeting before?”

The baby giggled.

Kai stepped forward, running his hands through his disheveled hair. “Hey, I can take her!” He frowned. “It’s not like I’ve never looked after Jazz.” He paused, his face falling blank. “Actually… you have never asked me to look after Jazz. How come?”

Your heart rate was increasing just hearing his words. Everything came into sharp focus. Kai’s odd combination of Hawaiian shorts, a silk shirt and flip-flops. The cigarette butts still smouldering in the ashtray on the balcony he thought you didn’t know about.

The sound of your phone alarm, titled, LEAVE THE HOUSE BITCH, began to buzz like an angry wasp in your ear.

“Um, yes, sweetie, of course I want you to look after Jasmine, it’s just-“ you scrambled for a lie. “You’re… too… busy! I don’t want to get the way of your fancy actor work!”

He frowned. “But baby, you know shooting hasn’t started yet.”

You needed a better excuse. “But your lines. You have to learn them. I would rather than die than keep you away from your lines.”

You could almost hear the drone of the station announcer: “Last call for the 8:05 train. Last call…”

Kai grinned in disbelief. “You’re saying I can’t look after Jazz… because I have to read a script?” He frowned. “Do you not trust me to look after our daughter?”

“Oh, Kai.” You squeezed your temples. “I don’t have time for this. Fine You want the truth?. No, I don’t trust you with my child.”

“Our child.” Kai scoffed. “And you can’t say that! How could you?”

You gestured to the pigsty that was the apartment. “You’re irresponsible. You’re untidy. You’re out partying every night-“

You were about to say more, but you stopped yourself. Some things were too true to say. Everybody deserved a few lies to cling onto.

Kai sighed, and you hated how well he knew you. “Go on. Say what you’re thinking.”

You sighed. “Oh… and acting is not a real job!”

Kai bit his lip, pain flashing over his handsome features. “So, what was your big plan? Keep her from me for the next eighteen years?

You tried to deny it, but fell silent when you saw the pain in his eyes. “N-not eighteen. Maybe… ten.”

And suddenly, you felt like an awful person. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. You- you’re a great father, you just… don’t have the skills yet to look after her. The knowledge.”

Kai sighed. His voice was very quiet. “I know that she naps between eleven and one. I know that Fuzzy is her favourite toy. I know that she can’t sleep on her tummy, or drink cow’s milk, or have too many baths.”

“How did you…” you started. “I read those parenting books that you aways leave lying around,” Kai said, crossing his arms.

You stepped towards him, smoothing your hands over his face. “I had no idea…”

You pressed your lips to his, and in the shape of his firm body, his scent, you almost lost yourself.

Kai gently pulled away, crooning, “Go. As much as I’d like you to stay, your genius is needed at a board meeting. I’ve got her.”

You smiled, picking up your bags. “Okay. But I am FaceTiming you in an hour. Every hour, actually.”

Kai grinned, that lopsided grin that made you giddy when you were still nineteen and an extra on some unknown TV show. You may have given up on acting, but you never gave up on the boy of your dreams.

You left a little piece of your heart with Kai and Jasmine, then shrugged on your blazer and stepped out into the brightening morning light.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

498 notes · View notes

nymphoheretic · 1 year

Text

Synopsis: Kyoujuro likes seeing his wife in his merch and only his merch.

Warning: Actor Au, fem!reader, edging, fingering, mirror sex (implied), biting, daddy kink

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing: Kyoujuro Rengoku x Fem!reader

Tagging the rengoku girlies(gn): @bakugosbratx @renhoeku @glz-100 @herohibiscus @potofstewie @comatosebunny09 @cherryblossomsenpai @linpunny @unknownspecies @yeahitzally @taisho-era-secrets @auraee @diorsbrando @kyojuro-my-wuv @wanderingfaee and the network @tokyometronetwork

Join the Rengoku girlies: https://forms.gle/YGTATcvxh2oAUc3o9

You sat on the couch, watching your husband’s latest movie. He had warned you that he would be dying in this film, but it did nothing to prepare you for how brutal his death scene was. You screamed at the TV as the demon punched a hole through your soulmate’s stomach.

Tears swelled in your eyes as I watched his students cry for him as he gave his final speech. Your tears fell down your face as you watched the sweet, happy smile spread over his face as he saw the ghost of his mother telling him how she was proud of him.

The need to turn the movie off before you were forced to witness Kyoujuro’s final breath hit you hard, but you needed to finish the movie. You were crying along with the other actors as yor beloved slowly lowered his head as he took in his last dying breath, blood pooling around him from the large wound in his stomach.

You hugged your Kyou plushies closer to your chest as you continued watching each of the other hashira’s reaction to hearing about Kyoujuro’s death. By the time the ending credits were playing, you were sobbing and holding onto your plushie for dear life.

Pushing your Kyoujuro blanket down off yourlap, you wrapped his hashira cape closer around your naked body. You had asked the production team if you could keep the haori as a memento of his best selling movie and thankfully they agreed. You loved wearing the cloak around the house so much. It drove Kyoujuro insane when you would wear it.

Walking into the kitchen, you grabbed some fruit to snack on while you waited for Kyoujro to come home from a recent shoot. Season two of the show he was a part of was airing soon and by popular demand, he was getting a special original episode and a televised premiere of his movie with extra scenes.

Checking the clock, you saw that it was nearly ten at night. Kyoujuro should be home soon. You left the kitchen to go to our bedroom to put some clothing on. You did not need him trying to pounce on you while wearing your prized haori.

You put on one of his hoodies that looked like his demon slayer outfit from the movie. What could you say? You would forever support your husband by buying every little bit of merch that comes out of him. You loved to support his career. You had a whole room dedicated to all his figures and posters.

A smile tilted at your face as you heard the front door to the house open and Kyoujuro tiredly announced that he was home. You stepped out of the bedroom to go greet him happily. Wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him soundly on the lips.

“My hero is home.” you said, your voice a happy chirp as you referred to one of the movies you acted together in and he was your savior. It was how the two of you actually met.

Kyoujuro chuckled as he tiredly returned your kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you gently. He missed his wife so much. Shooting all those new scenes for the upcoming show was tiresome.

And having to refilm his death scene left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was happy that his fans wanted to see more of him, but having that fake arm shoved through his stomach for the second time was uncomfortable and the actor who played Akaza messed up the shoot three times this time when he had gotten it perfect the first time.

He arched a brow when he pulled away and took notice of your current attire. “Love, why are you wearing that?” He asked, feeling his cock stir the longer he looked at you wearing his merch. You knew what it does to him seeing you covered in his items. Especially when they draped down your body and made you seem even smaller in his eyes.

You pulled at the neck of the hoodie before giving him an innocent smile. “It's just some of your merch. I was watching the Mugen Train before you came.” you smiled up at him and you backed up so he could see your full attire. You gave him a little spin, the hood of the jacket flaring out some with the movement. “Aren’t I cute?”

“Baby girl...” he said, softly under his breath, his head lowered. While he knew that you had to have cried while watching that movie. You always did this. Make herself cry while watching his movies.

He knew that his one in particular would make you cry hard because his character had just been introduced in the show only to be killed off in a movie. “Why do you do this to yourself?” He asked, grabbing your arm and pulling you to his chest.

“Hmm?” You hummed as you sunk into his warm enbrace. “I'm just a masochist and I think the demon is hot.” you giggled when he suddenly started to tickle me. “Kyoujuro!” you squealed as his fingers assaulted your sides.

You tried to wriggle away, but he would not let you, his strong arms holding you in place. “I’m sorry!” you said through laughing so hard, tears were coming down your face. “I was kidding! I only looked at you the whole movie, I swear!”

Kyoujuro hummed as he continued to tickle his wife. “Good girl.” He praised, but didn’t stop his seeking fingers as that danced along your sides, producing more of your melodious laughter. He truly missed you these past few weeks while he was stuck on set with the crew filming these episodes.

So, he was going to enjoy as much time with you as he could. “My little fireball.” He purred as he finally stopped his attack and pressed you closer to his body, his hands smoothing over the fabric of the hoodie you wore.

You wapped your arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss him softly. “I’m not wearing anything under this hoodie.” you whispered in his ear. “I was sitting on the couch, your hashira cloak draped over my shoulders, with your blanket over my legs.”

You described everything you did while he was on screen; how you touched your body – eyes closed as you listened to the sound of his voice. “Do you know how hard I ache for you when we have different sets to go to and when you have to stay late for reshoots.” you took his hand and guided it to your legs and under the hoodie where your aching and dripping cunt was. “This much.”

His eyebrow arched when his fingertips were almost instantly drenched in your slick when he touched your throbbing pussy. “You ache that badly, wife?” He spun you around so that you were facing the large mirror the two of you had over the couch. Pulling the hoodie up to expose your naked body, he had you hold the end of it between your teeth. “Then watch me as I fuck you tonight, my darling.”

You let out a small whimper at Kyoujuro’s lewd words as his fingers dipped inside your clenching hole. His other hand grabbed your thigh, lifting your leg to spread them apart so that you could see his thick fingers slipping in and out. You leaned your head back against his shoulder as the lewd sounds of his pleasuring you filling the living room.

His lips slid over to your ear as his deep voice rumbled yor spine as he told you to keep watch on the mirror. You had not even noticed that your eyes had closed, lost in the feelings he was stiring within you.

“Keep those pretty eyes open for me and watch as my fingers disappear within you, baby.” He sped up the thrust of his digits, plunging them in and out, the squelching noises increasing. He could tell that you were close and smiled into your neck as he immediately slowed the pace until he was shallowly touching you with the tips of his fingers, softly circling your clit. A chuckle left Kyoujuro at your whine and he bit down on your exposed neck. “Watch me then, pretty girl.”

You opened your eyes and looked at your reflection in the mirror, your face heating with embarrassment from the lewd, erotic sight.Your leg held up in the crook of his elbow while his other hand covered your pussy as his fingers thrust in and out at a leisurely pace.

“Kyou...” you pleaded, your voice a keening whine as you reached behind you to wrap your arm around his neck. “I'm watching, please?” you could feel the piece of the hoodie that was clenched in yor teeth grow damp from my saliva.

Kyoujuro glanced down at his wife, your body trembling in his hold as he pressed his hips against yours. “Such a pretty thing when you beg.” He turned his head and pressed his lips against your forehead, kissing it softly. The sweet act betreaying the movement of his fingers as he fucked you on them.

“You’re so tight and wet, my love. Just look at how your pussy is devouring my fingers. Like it can’t get enough.” His eyes never left your face as he watched you witness yourself come undone by his fingers alone. “That’s right, my beautiful wife. Cum. Cum all over daddy’s fingers.”

You bit down harder on the fabric in your mouth, probably tearing a hole in it in the process. Your body shook violently as Kyoujuro thumbed at your clit to speed up your orgasm. You felt lightheaded as you creamed on his fingers, your walls fluttering; clenching and unclenching tightly. “So good, daddy.” your voice was still muffled by the cloth as saliva dripped out of the corners of your mouth as tears of pleasure burned at your eyes.

You were slightly surprised when he suddenly yanked the hoodie off of your body, spinning you back around, picking you up so that my legs were wrapped around his waist, and his lips on mine.

Kyoujuro hungrily kissed his wife. He needed you so badly, but something was missing. Setting you back down on your feet, he motioned with his head to the bedroom. “Go put on my Hashira haori.”

At your confused look, he smiled. “I want to fuck you while you’re wearing my merch and what better than my one of a kind haori?” Kyoujuro gave you a light spank as he guided you in the direction of your shared room, where he knew that’s where you stored the cloak.

©️2022-23 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

#nymphomanic♡#rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku x you #rengoku x y/n #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x you #kyoujurou rengoku smut #rengoku smut #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #kyoujurou x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #kny x reader #kny smut

288 notes · View notes

hobateas · 2 years

Text

the art of craving | pt.1

It's easy to feel like you're floating on the clouds when you're near them, it's easy to have them right under your grasp and feel as if they are yours, but why does it feel as if the more you crave them, the more it all seems to fall down?

alternatively, you're a fluffer, irrevocably in love with the seven you work with and it's hard to navigate through your feelings when your hearts are fluttering messes in the presence of each other.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. porn industry workers!ot7 x f!reader (side f!oc x reader)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 18+ (mature)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 5.2k :(

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬. thank you dee @sugakookitty a bunch for this amazing banner and sorry for all the trouble you went through! :( and my lovely pauli @kookstempo who managed to read all this shit and provide some real good feedback :O thanks my love <333

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. im sorry for putting this up so late, i have a blithering headache and want to die. thank you so much for all your support, ily guys :(( hope you enjoy, im pretty nervous since this is not what i uploaded back then but any feedback or comments are appreciated <3 comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

series masterlist. ʚɞ next.

"Cut! Stop filming right now." Namjoon's voice echoed in the studio, making everyone freeze in their spots. The lights were switched off, the film was paused, and breaths hitched, waiting for the next words of the director.

Namjoon was a perfectionist, known to be one of the strictest directors in his line of work. On set, he was a force to be reckoned with, leaving everyone grumpy with how commandeering he could be. It was maybe how the actor’s face had been angled, or how the squelchy sounds of sex appeased his ears, or that one time when the male actor had been way too soft for his liking- he wanted things to go his way, and his way demanded the utmost precision.

It was a shock to him when the three of his best stars’ performances were sub-par.

Misha, the female porn star, had her jaw unhinged, saliva falling from her mouth, black lines of mascara dripping down her face from when she had strained her mouth to take in Taehyung's cock; while Jin, who was pounding her from behind stopped, retreating his hands from her hips, both men slowly pulling out as carefully as they could.

The slick sound that accompanied it was uncomfortable, but it was nothing the people on the set hadn't experienced. The actors slowly moved away from each other's sweaty and cum-covered bodies, waiting just like the others in the studio.

Hoseok and Yoongi were quick on their feet, rushing to hand very expensive silk robes and chilled waters to each of the cast, dabbing their faces with fresh towels. It was important to make sure they looked fresh for each cut, but not enough for it to be evident to the consumer that they did in fact cut the scene in the middle.

Namjoon stepped forward from his position behind the camera, Jungkook trailing behind quickly with a hardboard in his hands, struggling to keep all the papers in his grasp.

Namjoon’s aura was terrifying, especially to Jungkook who was anxious about everything related to said man. It’s as if Namjoon was the devil, controlling all the people in the room like pawns, but Namjoon didn’t think that way. He thought he just paid extra attention to detail, and sure, sometimes he did become angry but he expected everyone to meet standards, his standards.

The director pushed his glasses up with a strained look on his face, jaw clenching every second as he struggled to keep his calm. It was the thought about how imperfect the scene had been that left Namjoon in a fit of pique. He wasn't having a good day today, and to have to experience such a lackluster performance from the team dampened his mood further.

"This is a mess." He stated as soon as he got close enough to the three actors, taking in their tired forms with his equally dull eyes.

"Why? I thought everything was fine?" Misha started after handing her empty bottle to Yoongi, stepping forward with the robe loosely tied around her bare skin.

She looked ethereal without a doubt. Even with fresh streaks of black on her face, her face exuded sensuality, and her body was curved in just the right places for her to garner a relatively large base of loyal fans who were charmed by the way she could get them aroused with just a flutter of her eyes.

"Wait. Someone get ___ from upstairs first." He declared to no one in particular, but the job would be done soon. He had the power, and he knew it. He smirked when he heard thudding on the stairs. The set was quiet enough for him to listen to the labored breathing of the unfortunate man racing to get to the first floor. No one disobeyed Namjoon.

"I'll be there in two minutes!" Your sweet voice called out from the floor above, making the men in the studio anticipate your arrival, shivers spreading down their spines.

"Okay, first of all, you guys are doing a girlfriend-boyfriend roleplay. It’s supposed to be romantic, just a little bit lovey-dovey, yeah? And you guys look like you’re having a one-night stand.” Namjoon sighed.

“Wait- but- the people said they wanted rougher stuff. Go check the comments on Tanhub.” Taehyung countered with an exasperated look on his face.

“I know, and that shooting is scheduled for next week,” And Taehyung shut his mouth. “Anyways, Misha, you look disinterested, and your moaning sounds very forced; genuinely enjoy it, yeah? And you guys look like you are hammering a rabbit with your dicks." Namjoon turned to look at Misha's fucked out face and then at the two men who looked disgusted at the director's comment.

"Tell me that when you don't have a dick as big as Taehyung's down your throat. It's not even my fault, my throat wasn't warmed up properly, and I'm just not in the mood." She grumbled in reply, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Alright, we will do something about that. Is Misha's fluffer on set?" A trembling Jungkook stepped forward from the shadows, cowering under his boss's gaze. He immediately shuffled through the schedule papers in his hands, coming up with nothing, and then he saw you skipping down the stairs.

His gaze was stuck on your form, wearing the shortest pair of shorts he had ever seen on anybody, your ass cheeks falling out and jiggling deliciously with every step you took their way. You hadn't gone easy on them with your crop top either. The cut dipped down all the way from your collarbone, showing off your sternum. The sides of your supple breasts were visible for their eyes to feast on, and boy did they appreciate the sight.

"You called me Mr. Kim?" You chirped, looking over all the people on the floor before your gaze landed on the tallest man in the room.

"Hi Princess, Misha's fluffer didn't come in today?" He smiled, and your heart fluttered.

"No. Jihoon did, but he left a while back because there was an emergency. He told me to tell you, but since you were in your element, I didn't."

Namjoon’s thick lips parted in a sigh, his hand going to ruffle his hair in exasperation.

"Okay, we will figure something out for Misha; how about you go help Jin and Taehyung till then? We'll resume after a break, everyone be back in 20."

"Alright! Let’s go!" You chirped with a grin, happy to spend time with some of your favorite people. Said men were quick to grab each of your hands, rushing you to one of the empty corners of the studio, covered with flimsy curtains, where they could have their privacy with you.

Though their jobs required them to be exposed in front of the camera, showing off all their assets, they still preferred to keep something to cover themselves up. it definitely worked in their favor when you would trail your hands over their muscular thighs, lightly scratching with your fingertips to keep them worked up.

That being said, they didn't need you to ‘fluff’ them up; your presence was enough to have them turned on for days, but there was something in the way you looked at them, touched them with the lightest yet most sinful hands that made them groan in pleasure and want more, more even after fucking a woman just moments before.

It was something you did, or rather you that had them weak in their knees.

"Hi Tae, Jin! How have you guys been?" You smiled.

Their breaths quickened when they saw you drop to the floor and tie your hair up in a ponytail, your top riding up even further and revealing the tattoo under your breasts to them.

It was a simple flower vine, the blank ink spread from your sideboob all the way under the curve, but to this day, being able to see so much of you felt like a dream despite having known you for two years now.

It certainly had an effect on them, one which you were not oblivious to. You knew them enough to understand when they were really enjoying themselves and when they weren't. Their moans from before left a sour taste in your mouth- they weren't authentic or the low, deep groans you had the pleasure of hearing every once in a while. They were forced and intermittent, and you knew it was time to change into your sexiest, most revealing clothes to make them shift in their seats.

It was the moment you had been waiting for a long time.

"Hi, ___," Taehyung mumbled, his fiery gaze fixed on you.

Having you here right now, in such a compromising position, in front of their chairs, was a bad mistake. Your job was to keep them hard during breaks but it didn't help that they had had a crush on you since the moment they saw you walking down the set timidly on your first day as a fluffer.

Though it was probably them who spent the most time with you, this intimately, this passionately. And hearing the boys whine every second of the day about their lack of you only made them grateful for the few moments you spent with them on workdays.

And it’s not like the others understood how it took all they had in them not to bust a nut; although they longed to cover your tits with their seed, they would have to wait for another day to indulge in such possessions. It was another level of self-control that they had edged themselves for hours to get to.

"Can I touch you now?" You gazed at them with longing eyes, and they were immediately nodding their heads.

"Thank you."

You dipped your hands under their robes, getting a feel of their calves and then their muscular thighs, not too fast, caressing the soft yet tense skin with a grin on your face. You didn't have it in you to look them in their eyes, you knew it would make you want to submit under their dominant gazes, so you kept your eyes fixed on your hands.

With a shaky breath, you begin to inch them up, teasing them. Their hearts began palpitating in their chests the more you got closer to their cocks. They knew what you were doing, they had played the game with you every time. But after a very uneventful work day, they were horny, patience wearing off every second.

"I suggest you stop teasing, baby. Don't make me get Jimin over here." Jin clicked his tongue in annoyance.

You shifted on your knees. It was your job to tease them. To keep them ready, not enough for them to cum. Jimin, your supervisor, had told you to do the same. How could you disobey his direct orders?

"Your job is to tease, ___, not to make them orgasm. Make them crave you. Use your mouth or your hands, it doesn't matter; as long as they stay hard enough to continue, you get paid." He had told you at the time of your job briefing, grazing his fingers over his thighs, which you couldn't help but gawk at.

You didn't understand what bringing Jimin here could do except for making your day even better. You imagined he would, in fact, just sit there and monitor you with hooded eyes, his legs spread wide enough for you to be able to steal a glance at his erection.

But you were sure it was just your horny mind speaking.

So you ignored their words, feeling your breath start to quicken, lust coursing through your veins from how excited you were to disobey them. It was the thrill of breaking the rules that made blood rush all over your body. They couldn't punish you even if you wanted them to, it was all a part of a job- your job as their fluffer, as much as you hated to admit it.

You rub your palms over them with a feathery touch, wanting to make them wait for you. It was a sight to behold- the two twitching in their seats, and moaning for you. Their cocks were still covered by the silk robe, enticing you to touch them and lick them. Though you could see the outline clearly, it didn't satisfy the hunger in your throat, it never did, so you removed it.

And the sight would always leave you dumbstruck.

Taehyung's was, by far, the longest cock you had ever seen and tasted. His thick cock that twitched under your eager eyes, laid on his abs, long fingers rubbing his chin as if he was deep in thought. He was almost easily seven inches long, and you always commended anyone who had the power to manage an entire shoot with him.

Jin, on the flip side, was equally impressive, if not more. Though his length was maybe an inch shorter than Taehyung's, his girth made up for it. You were sure of the pleasurable burn it would provide when it split open a pussy, massaging the walls like no one else could. His thrusts were harsh and powerful too, thanks to his impeccable hips, and you never understood how one can be so perfect.

As you continued practically gawking over them, your cunt heating in your panties, it was Jin whose resolve finally broke and he grabbed your hand that was fisted in his robe and pulled you towards him in a swift motion. Your knees scraped against the ground uncomfortably, but that was the least of your worries when you saw the need in Jin's eyes.

You gazed at him with startled eyes, your mouth itching to ask if you did something wrong. Jin had his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his leaking slit smearing his precum all over your reddened lips. You could taste a mixture of Misha's sweet pussy juices and his cum on your tongue, and that ignited a fire in your veins.

"Sweetie, put your mouth over his cock right now; you do not want to disobey us," Taehyung growled under his breath, his hands moving to undo his robe and grasp his cock tightly.

“But what about you?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about me, ___; you have no idea about the effect you have on me." His stare pierced into your eyes as he spoke.

You flushed but complied immediately, parting your lips and taking him in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks just the right amount as you take him in. All nervousness left your body the second you felt the weight of his cock on your tongue, it felt like it belonged there, heavy and warm. His cock was long enough to hit the back of your throat easily and thick enough to make your jaw throb with pain increasingly every second, but it was all a part of your wonderful job.

"You look so pretty with your lips around my cock." Jin let out a pleasurable sigh at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs at the praise, your tongue swirling around his tip, and he let his head fall back. Your eyes were closed due to the strain, but every sharp inhale and moan and sigh you heard was a reward, and you clenched your empty hole, wanting nothing more for him to fuck you.

With a pop, you removed your mouth from his cock, taking in deep breaths. You looked up at him only to see him staring down at you with lust-lidded eyes, his breathing heavy like yours. You were taken aback when his hand moved to grip yours, long fingers interlocking with yours and wrapping them around his thick cock and stroking it, sticky sounds amplifying in your ear.

You struggled to keep your eyes on his, feeling bashful under his stare, so you wrapped your lips around his tip again, licking his tip and coating it with your saliva. With his chest reverberating in a deep groan, you felt your panties starting to stick to your core uncomfortably. You gasped when his hand left yours, and you stopped yours too, wanting to ask him why. But you couldn’t when his hand pushed your head down on his cock in one go, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

"That's a good fucking girl. F-Fuck, baby, you feel so good!" He growled, the thrust of his hips starting to increase in pace, as you stopped bobbing your head up and down and let him take control of you. You gagged with every thrust when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, bruising the flesh of your mouth, but you wanted it.

With each thrust, you moaned around him, hearing him curse and groan above you. You were so lost in the intoxicating feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat; you couldn't make out when his length throbbed in your mouth or when his balls tightened, filling with his cum, or when he released the deepest growl you ever heard and spilled his hot cum in your mouth.

Jin knew he shouldn’t do it,knew it was bad, knew it would get him in trouble with Namjoon later. But seeing the girl of his dreams on her knees, sucking his cock with the warmest and most tempting mouth he had ever had the pleasure of fucking, was far too much for him to control, so maybe it was okay to let go, he decided.

"Fuck, baby, so fucking good for us, gonna make you mine one day! Fuck!" He hummed under his breath. You couldn't hear him over the loud, slick noises of your drooling saliva and his cum, whimpering at the taste of his hot seed coating your tongue- sweet like honey with hints of citrus, a flavor you could easily get addicted to.

"Shit, baby, you're milking my cock! F-fuck!" He continued riding out his high, not caring that the shoot would have to be prolonged. You let him have it after weighing your options after the hazy feeling in your mind disappeared; the only thing you could do was wait for him to get hard again. He continued bobbing your head up and down, swallowing thickly at the sight of you looking fucked out and dizzy after just giving a blowjob.

Some cum dripped down from your mouth and on his shaft, and you darted your tongue out to lick it. Dragging the muscle as slowly as you could over his length, you gave it small kitten licks, rolling your tongue back into your mouth to taste him with your eyes shut closed. You sighed, finally feeling full and hearty.

A deep groan on your left side caught your attention. Taehyung was sitting with his legs spread wide in his chair, forehead glistening with sweat, and was busy rubbing his thumb over his slit that oozed precum, the sight inviting you to wrap your lips around his cock.

You were tempted to suck him dry the same way you had milked Seokjin, but you couldn’t make the same mistake again. It would be unprofessional of you to make him cum; it always had been to wind them up, but never to bring them relief.

"Having fun here, aren’t we?" You turned your head, jumping in alarm at the presence of an all too familiar voice in your little corner, the curtains already back in their place.

Curse your weak heart for jumping up in a mix of emotions because of Jimin’s voice, both good and bad.

There had never really been any set professional boundaries between you all, even from the day he had interviewed you for this job. It had always been a mixture of seductive looks from said men, shy glances from you, and sexual tension that was almost suffocating. Neither had the guts to finally make a move, but you couldn’t deny how your heart palpitated in your chest whenever you were in their presence.

You only hoped the feelings were reciprocated, and not just a result of lust.

It probably affected Namjoon the most how you were always near, yet never seemed to be in his grasp. Still, he liked to maintain his distance from a professional stand, but he too was in the same predicament as you: down bad but scared.

You couldn’t see the way Taehyung smirked at the fury in Namjoon’s eyes, who squeezed in next to Jimin in the tiny space, pushing down the small bit of empathy he felt for the man.

“Tsk, is this what I hired you for, ___? Hmm?” Jimin’s condescending tone brought you back to earth and then punched you ten feet under.

You could feel the dread set in with every step your way, and a thousand scenarios ran in your head. Would you be fired, suspended, or worse, replaced? Someone else taking your position made you want to gag. The mere thought of it was bad enough, but what if it actually happened?

They were right. You had one job, one, yet you couldn’t do it right. The self-hatred started before another word was uttered in the room and you could already feel your eyes burn with unshed tears and the tip of your nose become itchy, a telltale sign of what was to come.

“You made Jin cum, didn’t you?”

“Jimin, stop.” Namjoon finally spoke up, feeling the teasing atmosphere turn damp.

“I thought you would be better at this.”

“Jimin, I said stop.”

As if sensing the way you stopped moving and just turned your head downwards, covering your face using the length of your hair, with your hands having retreated to your sides as if touching any of them burnt your skin, Jin shoots a sharp glare in their direction. He fisted his hands, feeling worse by the minute, but not knowing what to do. Should he comfort you, rub your back, hope with everything in his being that you weren't actually upset at their teasing tone?

One, breathe in.

Five, hold it.

Seven, control your emotions.

Nine, breathe out.

You did not know how much time passed by as you kept breathing in and out, but once you did regain a grip on yourself, you got up from your knees, ignoring the way your muscles shouted in protest. You didn’t hear them gasp at the way your form trembled for a second, both in fear and embarrassment, before stilling.

“I’m sorry Mr. Park, Mr. Kim, we got lost in the heat of the moment. It won’t happen again.” You looked them in the eye as you spoke.

But in all honesty, you didn’t know what you were apologizing for. Were you sorry you made Jin feel good, or that you somehow prolonged the shoot, or was it because it went against the terms of your job? You couldn’t pinpoint it but you felt slightly disappointed in yourself, yet you didn’t show it as much as you thought you would.

“Will you both be okay for the next 10 minutes like this? I’ll go to Misha.” You asked the two men who wore confusion on their faces.

You looked at them again, bowing lightly before making your way out of the stall the very next second, making your way to Misha’s usual place with shaky legs, the surge of confidence wearing down by the second.

After having been subjected to praises and sweet words of affection, this was a punch in the gut to say the least, and maybe that’s why you were overreacting. It’s really easy to cross the line from playful to not, and that was what happened.

“Oh, ___! Hey, I was looking for you. Misha was calling you, if you don’t mind?” Jeongguk rubbed the back of his neck nervously, shifting on his feet nervously. As if you could really say no to his adorable face.

“Yeah, I was just going there. Thanks for letting me know.” You patted his elbow lightly.

“Yeah…” He mumbled, dazed, as he watched you make your way to Misha. If heart eyes were a person, it would definitely be Jeon Jeongguk.

“___! My favorite girl.” Misha exclaimed as you made your way inside her ‘cabin’.

In reality, it was just a small broom closet, cleaned to perfection and decorated with neutral tones, with small pots of green scattered here and there in a futile attempt to brighten up the place.

“Misha, hello.” You mumbled as you sat on the floor in front of her on your knees, lips parting in an inaudible wince at the feeling.

“Here, baby.” She removed a pillow from her side and put it below your knees, watching as you blushed slightly before moving closer to her.

“Not your baby.” You retorted, spreading her legs gently and pushing your head to the crevice between her thighs. Your nose met her clit, the woman above you letting out a small moan at the stimulation. Your hands gripped her thighs, rubbing small circles there with your thumbs.

“But you could be.” She chuffed, making you bite down on her clit lightly.

“Okay, okay! Slowly, baby, don’t go too hard, alright?” By now you knew that her tone was essentially a code word signifying her want to be worshiped, treated like a goddess, and taken time to properly arouse, love and lick.

The smell of her pussy was the sweetest candy you have ever tasted on a woman. You darted the tip of your tongue out, licking at her clit, slowly. Tasting her juices, watching as it elicited a soft sigh from her. It had been a long time since you ate her out, but she tasted the same as ever. You angled your head into her folds, nudging her legs further apart.

“Taste good?” She mumbled, her voice seductive and inviting, combing through your hair. An outsider may have just thought you two were lovers by the sheer passion of it all.

“Hmm. More.” You whimpered with your eyes closed, continuing to savor her at your own pace.

With shaky hands, you pried her thighs apart, gaining better access to her cunt. You immediately lapped at her clit, drawing ‘eights’ with the tip of your tongue before wrapping your mouth around it and sucking it into your mouth. A groan left her mouth, and you could feel her hand clench at her side before it came down to guide your tongue into her hole.

With need coursing through your veins, you thrust your tongue into her tight hole, still continuing with your slow pace. Her scent was stronger now; you almost felt drunk on it.

You heard the door open, but you were too far gone into your actions that everything seemed to be a blur except for your desire to taste the woman. You could feel her motions on your hand stop and you whined. A beat of silence ensued before she was continuing with her tender motions and you were back to lazily licking at her wetness.

The same clicking sound was heard again and Misha placed her hand on your cheeks, moving your body upwards to her, placing your head in the crook of her neck as you shivered. She ignored your protests, cooing at the pout on your face before guiding you towards her lips. You lapped at them hungrily, like a woman starved of the simple pleasure of warmth.

Misha pulled you away from her far too quickly for your liking, caressing your cheeks and shushing you lightly. “Baby, baby, baby, what’s gotten into you today? You aren’t usually so placid. Tell me, I’ll make it better.”

You ignored her, moving towards the dip of her chest, before shaking your head.

“___, tell me.” She spoke, a little more aggressive than you could have handled in your state of mind,

“Don’t be mean.” You pouted.

“Then tell me what’s wrong.”

“I made Jin cum and I think Mr. Park is mad at me.” You whispered your worries to her.

“Oh, shit. Uh wow. Did he scold you or call you to his room after or… anything at all? Are you in trouble?”

“No, he didn’t, but his tone was like,” You struggled to find the right words. “When you make fun of me when you see me trip over the cables in the main room. I still don’t like it when you do that.”

“And you think I’m mocking you when I do that?” Misha questioned, to which you nodded your head.

“Oh my god.” She whispered under her breath. “Silly girl, I don’t make fun of you when I say that. It’s adorable that you are clumsy sometimes. You look around with those terrified eyes of yours, when actually many of us already saw you trip.”

“Are you freaking kidding me? Everyone saw that? How am I gonna show my face to them now?” You threw your hands around, exasperated at the revelation.

She chuckled before bringing your attention back to her. “See, you’re so cute. Now, back to what we were discussing. I wouldn’t be afraid if I were you, ___. Really, just trust me on this one.”

“But why? Gimme a reason at least!”

“I’m older, I’ve seen the ways of the world more than you have, so shut your pretty mouth up and listen.” You immediately zipped your mouth, waiting patiently for her next words.

“Boys are icky but you do you, baby. If Mr. Park indeed got mad, and he confronts you or whatever, repeat the exact same words I’m gonna tell you, alright?”

You nod, anticipation heavy in your eyes.

“Tell him to go suck his own dick and hope he chokes on his cum.”

A terrified gasp and maniacal laugh were heard simultaneously in the room.

“Misha! Are you crazy? Is this your villain arc or something? I’d get fired in an instant.”

“Hey, babe, you never know what that sneaky little shit is into, okay? I’m just very inclusive to all tastes and preferences.” She had the audacity to wink at you.

“Yeah, Misha, no. As much as I love you, you’re fucking crazy.”

“Aww, you love me? I’m a pile of mush now, save me!” She squished your cheeks in her hand, pecking the skin peaking out softly.

“Misha- oh,” You heard Yoongi’s voice in the room, dying down towards the end. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb the two of you.” His tone turned gruff at the end.

“Nah, it’s cool. I was just about to come out anyway.” She shot you a cheeky smile and helped you get up from your frozen state, pushing you down on the sofa before walking out with Yoongi on her tail.

“See you later, babe.”

…

“Jimin, what the actual fuck did you do? Did you have to be so condescending?”

“I wasn’t trying to! It just came out like fucking word vomit!” Jimin grumbled, holding his head in his hands like a man defeated.

“Well, thank you for messing everything up. How do you suppose we rectify this, you brat?” Jin scoffed, fighting the urge to snap.

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Now, you morons, I will be calling in for a favor and y’all better be grateful that our girl doesn’t slip from our hands before we have even treated her right.”

“What are you going on about?” Namjoon mumbled, rolling his eyes at another one of Jin’s stupid schemes.

“You’ll see.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. @scentedsope @pb-n-juju @ot7nem @bangtanflirt @purplebtsmagic @kookstempo @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @likeshatteredrainbowglass @natalia-rmnva @myyeoubi @sebootyforlife @seongsanniehwa @dumb-cxm-slxt @maichiverse @portia-bts @sybilvvriting @taestrwbrry @bt21chim @daydreamqueenjaycee @leatherbabyfairy @dollhobigem @singukieee @malewife-supremacy @jeontier @mageprincess7 @effielumiere @mrcleanheichou @blushingatyou @doublebunv @chieftoadturkeynickel @laura-naruto-fan1998 @borataehyungiee @readers-posts @totallynoanalien @ftyoongi @faceaeter @tinyoonsblog @just-me-and-myselfs @their-tongue-technology @jksjx @rjsmochii @kyrah-williams @paymeinkash @lovely-joon @floral-recs @dahliasbouqet @dreamamubarak @cjphoenix-blog @yn-lifeu @ohshutupjimin @drarry-4-lifers @kimsaerom

1K notes · View notes

tgmsunmontue · 9 days

Text

More than movie magic... 15/?

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Again Jake? Seriously?”

Jakes grins, unapologetic, because stubble burn is part of his new normal and he doesn’t care about extra time in makeup, just settles back in the chair and feels smug, because Bradley has his number now and they’ve both had a little revelation in just how much they like each other. Last night had been illuminating, discovering Bradley has a thing for his accent had thrilled him and he’s looking forward to the dance tonight, which will be sanctioned down time and an excuse to get his hands all over Bradley and dance with him.

His day is ridiculously busy, although it seems like a lot of hurry up and wait and he spends too much time out in the sun he’s hot and sweaty by the time the call cut for the final time that day. He goes home and showers, dressing quickly, glad that a dance in a large barn doesn’t call for anything fancy. Catering has organized the barbecue, under his mom’s direction and he wonders how his Uncle Andy is getting on with trying to work with so many extra people around. The food is maybe better but considering his uncle’s simple tastes it’s likely not much of a consolation. Freddie is definitely enjoying the extra people and he knows he’s going to see quite a few of his cousins tonight, which he’d usually really be looking forward to, however it’s eclipsed by what he’s considering his first date with Bradley.

Dinner and dancing counts as a date right?

Even if there are a couple of hundred people there?

He doesn’t care, he’s counting it, even if it’s weird. He enters the barn and waves in greeting to the people that call out. He feels a small weight hit his leg and glances down to see his niece staring up at him and shit, that means his sister is here. He scoops Maddy up into his arms, delighting in her squeal and heads over to where he can see his sister, talking to his brother and of course his mom has invited everyone and failed to mention it to him. Great. Just great. A couple of hundred people is one thing, his entire extended family is another. Even though he knows Bradley won’t care, Jake does. He doesn’t want them all watching and grinning from the sidelines, but he has no choice in the matter. At least he won’t have to worry about ever introducing Bradley to his family.

… … …

When he enters the barn there’s a woman in the corner teaching people to line dance, taking people through the basics and he watches as she takes them through the calls and the different steps, reassuring them that she’ll keep it simple. Bradley’s glad, because while he knows some ballroom and Latin-American, he’s never tried line-dancing, but he knows Jake and his whole family enjoy it. He can’t see Jake yet, but he knows they’ll find each other. He goes over and joins the others learning, nods back to the woman as he steps in-line with the others learning.

He picks it up fairly quickly, it isn’t difficult with the way she’s teaching and the amount of repetition. He follows easily, starts enjoying it as he become familiar with the core moves and smiles back at the approving nod he gets from the woman teaching them. Then he sees Jake, across the barn and holding a child on his hip while talking to someone else. Bradley completely misses the call for a new step, causing someone to bump into him, fortunately easily laughed off but he excuses himself, eyes not leaving Jake. He looks good, happy and relaxed and Bradley wants to wrap his arms around him and never let go.

“Hi…”

“Hi. You looked like you were enjoying yourself. Chloe’s a good teacher.”

“Chloe?”

“My cousin, the woman showing people the ropes. And this here is my niece Maddy.”

Now that he looks closer he can see a tightness around Jake’s eyes and mouth, and he didn’t realize he knew him well enough yet to spot that maybe he’s not quite as happy and relaxed as he seems. He wants to know what’s causing it, hopes like hell it isn’t him. He needs to know, steps close and rests a hand carefully on Jake’s lower back, watches his face and sees the slight easing of tension. Good sign.

“What’s wrong?” Bradley asks, voice low, wonders if Jake will even share it with him.

“Just… nothing I can change. Just hoped maybe my entire family wouldn’t be here for my first date with you.”

“Oh…” Bradley says, keeping his voice low. He glances around, and there are definitely several pairs of eyes on them, but everyone is smiling and none of the looks feel like they’re directing ill-will their way. “Dinner with your parents, now your entire family… just lots and lots of chaperones. Watching us court each other.”

“This isn’t Victorian England.”

“Just as well, pretty sure your dad would have taken a shotgun to me for the beard burn. Ruining your reputation like that.”

It has the desired effect, Jake huffing with amusement, smiling and leaning into his touch.

“Think my mom would still be a badass in Victorian times. She’d totally pull a shotgun on you. I was just hoping we could…”

“Nothing about us, or this thing between us, is normal. Hoping for normal is pie in the sky stuff…”

“You’re okay with that?”

“You’re worth it.” Jake’s answering grin had him grinning back and he lowers his head to place a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Go dance and catch up with your family. Save a dance for me.”

The music is quick, doesn’t allow for slow dancing, which is probably for the best considering how few couples there are. He does watch as Jake dances with his mom, spinning and dipping and sliding; they’re both enjoying themselves. Then a different song starts and Jake is there, holding out a hand and Bradley takes it, not sure if he’s meant to be following or leading. When it becomes apparent to Jake that he can’t follow he switches to allow Bradley to lead, which unfortunately doesn’t work very well either, because this isn’t music he’s used to dancing to, and it’s not the line dancing basic he learnt a little over an hour ago.

“Kind of relieved you’re not perfect at everything.”

“Whatever made you think I’m perfect? Anyway, this is dancing, give me time to practice and then we can talk…”

Jake raises an eyebrow and Bradley feels a bolt of arousal zip through him, gives up all pretense of dancing and just pulls Jake into his arms to hold and sways to the music.

“Want to get out of here?”

“And go where?”

“A whole ranch, where you grew up, and you can’t think of any place we could get some time alone?”

“Not one that all my family doesn’t also know…”

“You think they’d actually follow you?”

“Well, no…” Jake concedes and Bradley’s grateful for the concession, because Aunty Kaye has introduced him to so many people and they’ve all seemed nice but also alarmingly enthusiastic about him suddenly being part of the family. It’s a little weird but also it makes him feel a little better about the impending introductions he’s going to have to carry out.

“So… where wouldn’t they follow you?”

“My bedroom?”

“I’m not having sex with you in your parents’ house…”

“Sex is it? Presumptuous of you…” Jake says, voice low but his breath is warm on Bradley’s neck. It’s okay, even if it’s just another evening of making out he’ll be happy, is enjoying learning what makes Jake gasp and grind against him. “And I’m not having sex in the bunkhouse. There’s no sound proofing in that place.”

“No sex but you’re worried about sound proofing? What about your trailer?” Bradley suggests, because Jake might be talking big talk about no sex, but he’s pretty sure they’d both appreciate some privacy sometime soon. There is no space between them right now and all his attention is focused in on Jake. Then someone coughs and his heads snaps around to see Aunty Kaye standing there, looking bemused.

“You boys, sorry, young men,” she says, giving Jake a look for some reason, “need to find somewhere a little less public. Go on now…” “Yeah yeah, oh my god this is…” Jake is muttering, but he’s grasping Bradley’s hand and is tugging him away, toward one of the doors and he follows, waving to Aunty Kaye and grinning as she waves back. He can’t wait for her and Pete to meet, it’s going to be chaos.

SIXTEEN

#Hangster #Sereshaw #more than movie magic #Top Gun Maverick

26 notes · View notes

gojifan97 · 2 years

Note

An AU where All for One accidentally sends his son Izuku and his ward to Tomura to the wrong summer camps. Izuku gets sent to a training camp for young villains. Tomura gets sent to an All Might fans summer camp with All Might himself as a guest lecturer. Please work your cracky magic!

AFO had it all under control. At least that's what he told himself. In actuality being potatoed had really frazzled his mind, so when Inko and Kurogiri asked for coordinates at the same time, he quickly looked up both and sent them, never even noticing he sent them the wrong coordinates.

Inko was confused that the camp was so remote, but she trusted her husband. So she told Izuku she loved him and sent him off. When Izuku arrived it didn't take him long to figure out he was at the wrong camp, what with nobody knowing anything about AM and several camp counselors being wanted criminals, but it wasn't like he could openly say anything now could he? Luckily, everyone treats him with respect as AFO's protoge so he plays along so he won't get killed.

Tomura wonders if he did something wrong for Sensei to send him to what seems the 10th circle of Hell. Or could this be the villain camp? Yes, a villain camp disguised as an All Might camp! That makes perfect sense! Unfortunately his attempts to flaunt his authority soon get him sent to the time-out corner, and he's forced to wear gloves to control his quirk. He'd fight back, but that Todoroki girl is terrifying.

Izuku is soon practically running the camp. Not only is he the smartest kid there and giving everyone in depth quirk analysis in exchange for swearing their loyalty to him (so he can keep them from using his advice for evil and maybe get them to buy merch for him), but he's also learning a lot that would be useful for hero work from the counselors! Also people genuinely like him, which is an absolute dream for him! The only one that doesn't is that janitor Dabi who insists Izuku's a spy. Everyone ignores him for being a conspiracy theorist who failed to kill a mouse once.

Tomura is having less success. His prior quirk usage has caused them to watch extra close that he doesn't "accidentally" lose his gloves, meaning that when an All Might handshake event happens he actually has to shake that filthy beast's hand! Without killing him! Also All Might talks about things like not leaving everything for him and helping yourself, which Tomura hates for actually being ok advice! Even worse, All Might at one point asks Tomura on video game metaphors to use! Tomura helps of course, but only to show off how much he knows. He's such a problem child that eventually the camp's guidance counselor takes interest in him: Gran Torino.

To everyone's shock, Gran's "character building" sessions actually work! Partly because he plays video games with Tomura afterward (he's quite good) but also because Tomura respects violence. Soon he's decided violence without being arrested seems like a neat idea after all! Especially since he can adopt a corgi that way! When Tomura learns that Gran new his grandma, he comes clean to help him stop AFO so he can get that corgi because it's the right thing to do.

Izuku finally brings Dabi to his side by letting him run the camp's theater club. Dabi loves melodramatic acting so much he forgets about his father. Well mostly, he still loves bashing Endeavor in his plays. Izuku then has his legion overthrow the counselors and become Heroes! Except Dabi, he's becoming a theater actor/vigilante.

Izuku's calling the authorities when AM arrives at the villain camp. Izuku: I need the Heroes to come and arrest some major villains! We're at- AM: I AM HERE! Izuku: Wow that was fast! Dispatcher: ???

AM notices no one's attacking him and that several villains are tied up. He demands to know who's in charge. They almost pull a Spartacus, but when Izuku steps forward, they all point at him.

Izuku marches toward All Might, flipping through his book like he's looking for the perfect page to handle him with. All Might tenses up. Finally Izuku stops in front of them and holds his book out. Izuku: Can I have your autograph? AM: ???

The villains are arrested, the villain kids (and Tomura) pardoned for their help, Tomura gets his corgi, Izuku gets AM for a new dad and eventually OFA, and AFO flees the country to escape Inko the heroes. He will later be found with a concussion caused by someone beating him with a frying pan. The culprit is still a unknown.

#all might: young midoriya is such a sweet innocent boy!#gran: he took over a camp full of hardened of villains in less than a week with no backup or experience #despite the counselors including several hardened murderers #am: yes but he did it innocently!#my hero academia #tomura shigaraki #izuku midoriya #all might #5 headcanons ask game

707 notes · View notes

astrowaffles · 8 months

Text

Golden Time

Teen (for language) | Chaos | Plotless | Actor AU

“I get here at half eight because of Satoru,” Megumi told the camera. He had glittery pink flamingo sunglasses on, which he seemed to think was perfectly normal; in the background, Gojo was wandering about, wearing a matching (purple) pair of sunglasses, playing ‘Dancing Queen’ from his phone and waving a mini disco ball around. “He needs the extra time to get in the zone.”

“Too right I do!” Gojo agreed loudly.

“Is this how you get in the zone?” the interviewer asked.

“I do my best acting when wearing glitter,” Gojo informed her. “Obviously.”

“I think most of us usually arrive on time,” Yuji nodded, standing on the steps outside a large building. Above his head, the words MAPPA STUDIOS could be seen in foot-high lettering. “I got here … uh … hold on, I’ll ask Megumi.”

He turned towards the building. “HEY!! MEGUMI!!”

“WHAT?” a voice yelled back, presumably from the foyer.

“WHAT TIME DID WE GET HERE THIS MORNING?”

“8.30, WHY?”

“I’M DOING AN INTERVIEW!” Yuji turned back to the camera. “He says 8.30.”

“So you arrived together?” the interviewer asked.

“Oh, yeah, his dad gives me a lift sometimes.” Yuji leant in closer, and cupped his hands over his mouth. “It was the most terrifying experience of my life,” he whispered.

“I OFFERED YOU A RIDE, NOT A SAFE RIDE!” Megumi shouted. He was just visible, signing something at the front desk.

“Jeez, how did he hear that?!” Yuji looked shaken. “I think he gets his super-senses from Mr. Gojo. You can’t do anything around those two, they always know.”

“SHOWTIME!” Megumi called. He poked his head out of the door. “Come on, Yuji, we’ll be late.”

“Oh! My bad. See you next time!” Yuji saluted the camera. Megumi gave it a small wave, before dragging Itadori off with a mumble of “What do you mean, super-senses???”

“Personally, I’m always on time. Unless I’m not,” Gojo mused, sipping his iced coffee. “Since I adopted Megumi, I’ve never been late for anything because he always drags me out the house. However-“ (this was punctuated by violent pointing) “-when I’m going somewhere by myself, say, a meeting with a superior, I’m always late. I don’t do it on purpose. I like to think it’s the universe reminding me it’s on my side and it doesn’t believe in capitalism.” He looked down at his drink. “I need to stop using straws, they’ll give me awful mouth wrinkles when I’m older. Oh, and save the turtles. Obviously.”

“I like to be on time, because then I can disapprove of people who aren’t,” Nobara explained. She turned to allow the wardrobe assistant to adjust her jacket, but kept talking as she went. The camera did its best to follow her face. “Basically, Megumi once made fun of me for being late, and I never want that to happen again.”

“Does he make fun of you a lot?”

“No, not at all. He knows I’d kick him, or get Maki to.” She grinned evilly. “Maki has these awesome boots with spikes on, and they absolutely terrify the boys, especially Inumaki and Yuta. Or maybe that’s because she uses them most on Inumaki and Yuta. Mostly Inumaki, he’s so sassy all the time – and always late…”

“She said that? I take that as a compliment,” Toge laughed. “She doesn’t even call me by my first name, that’s how annoying she thinks I am. I do my best, of course, but it’s nice to see my efforts being recognised.”

“Are you usually late on purpose, then? Does Nobara use that against you?”

“How did you know I’m usually late? It’s not on purpose though, I’m just a procrastinator. As for Nobara, what she doesn’t know is that I got most of my sass from Megumi. He doesn’t always show it, but he’s an irritating little shit when he’s comfortable. It just rubbed off on me, and now I’m better at it than him.”

“Did you know Megumi before the show? Did you spend a lot of time with him?”

“We’re legally second cousins or something, I think. I’m Satoru’s very very extended family, anyway, and so I was at his house a lot while my parents did … whatever my parents do … and that’s how I got into acting, since both Satoru and Megumi were in the industry. Sometimes Jujutsu Kaisen feels like a family project, what with Satoru, Megumi, me, Maki… Yeah, we adopted her as an honorary member, didn’t you know?”

“I did not ask to be an honorary member, but I’m not mad about it,” Maki smiled. “It’s nice that there’s so many relations on the show, although it does make us look like a nepotism breeding ground. Luckily, all you have to do is look at their interactions and you’ll know they all made it on their own. Mr. Gojo might have offered Megumi a leg up, but Megumi definitely wouldn’t have taken it – and Toge’s, like. Annoying.”

“I thought you liked being part of the family? Do you not like Toge?”

“Oh, I do. You’ve never found your siblings annoying? I think he’s annoying, because he’s always late and every second sentence is sarcastic. Oh, and he pulls the ‘Opposite Day’ thing on you and makes you look insane. ‘Do you like fish fingers in custard?’ ‘No’ ‘It’s opposite day!!’ or whatever.”

“So, you’re never late?”

“I’m always early! Sometimes I even get here before Mr. Gojo, and he’s got Megumi to chivvy him along, poor soul. It must be like living with a grumpy alarm clock.”

“I’m always late, it’s always on purpose, and I am completely unbothered,” Shoko shrugged. “I think the production team have caught on. They tell me my events are scheduled half an hour before they actually are, so when I rock up fifteen minutes late, I’m actually fifteen minutes early.”

“Don’t tell Shoko this, but the director always tells her the events are an hour early,” Geto confided in a low voice. “She thinks it’s only half an hour, so she’s being extra late on purpose, and they keep pretending they’re in a rush when they’re actually on time. It’s genius. Anyway,” he added in a louder voice, “I’m here on-time-ish. Here before I need to be, but after everyone else, who are always arriving at half eight for some reason?”

“I clock in at 9am and not a minute sooner,” Nanami said emphatically. “I don’t need to be here before then and I have other things to do during that time.”

“What do you do during that time?”

“Sleep, mainly. Anything but work.”

“So you only work, what? 9-5? Are you strict about leaving, too?”

“I like to leave early because then Satoru won’t rope me into something weird. Thank god for Megumi, that kid’s a lifesaver, I don’t know how many times he’s stopped The Idiot from dragging me to a bar or something…”

“Too right I do!” Gojo agreed loudly.

“Is this how you get in the zone?” the interviewer asked.

“I do my best acting when wearing glitter,” Gojo informed her. “Obviously.”

“Oh, obviously,” she agreed, just as someone knocked sharply on the door.

“That’s our cue,” Megumi announced. “Come on, Beyonce,” he added, shedding his sunglasses and reaching up to do the same to Gojo, before dragging him away.

The camera just managed to catch Gojo’s wail of ‘It was ABBA!! Don't call me Beyonce!!!” before everything faded to silent black.

A03 | Exclusives | Tip Me | Commissions

#astro speaks wonders #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk actor au #jjk fic #jjk fic rec #a03

68 notes · View notes

fixfoxnox · 8 months

Note

Use this ask to ramble about anything, better if it's about Roach 🪳💖

(btw I think I found you in twitter by accident, I'm not sure, too anxious to follow anyway)

AHHHHH YESSS ROACH RAMBLE ASK MUAH MUAH (KISSES)

I haven't gotten to yell about my boy by himself in so long omggggg

Oh also before I forget, you probably did find my Twitter! I haven't really made any posts about it cause, tbh, I still have no idea what I want to post there, but I do indeed have a Twitter! It is here for anyone who wants to follow me. Right now I've just really been dropping random cod thoughts and reposting a lot of artists content, but who knows maybe I'll start doing some Twitter exclusive stuff or thread fics or something (has no idea how thread fics work). Anyways on to the boy:

I'm using this as an opportunity to just talk about whatever comes to mind and the first thing I wanna start with are like some alternate ideas I had for Roach's family before I landed on the Sanderson dynamic that I have now:

Roach from a military family

Imagine how fun it would be if Roach was raised in a military family, especially if they still had that overprotective aspect to them. Like baby boy who was raised around the military so he's been intimately familiar with it

Maybe he had some different talent and his family wanted him to go down a different path and not go military like them

He says fuck that and joins the military and fucks around and ends up joining taskforce 141

Extra funny points if his family don't realize that he's on a specialized taskforce cause he was so nervous about telling them and they find out in dramatic fashion

Maybe he drops in to save them on a mission or something like 🤭 the drama of it all I love it

Also side note but I was thinking so hard about the Sanderson boys (Johnathan and Eddie) and I can't draw so I have to snatch some Face Claims for them so this is what I think Roach's older brothers look like:

Johnathan is played by Lee Pace don't test me this man is tall and probably acts as his own security at his bar and also is a goofball and idk Lee Pace is perfect (this should not detract from me also thinking that Lee Pace is a perfect fc for König)

Eddie to me has to look something like Luke Norris idk I feel like he needs a softer and more like nervous/panicky energy than Johnathan and this man fits don't test me don't test me

Also for anyone who is wondering: No, I still don't have a face claim for my Roach. In my mind he changes so much I see so many different artists versions of Roach in my brain at all times so choosing an actor for him is so hard. I have...thoughts, but idk that anyone would enjoy the thoughts that I have so we'll pretend I don't have them.

More on Roach cause he's my lil guy, my lil dude, my lil buddy

Listen y'all know Southern Roach is my bias but also also also have been falling in love more and more with the idea of Russian Roach. He would be so funnn like he works with Nik beforehand maybe he was undercover with the ultranationalists. I also enjoy the idea of him cursing Shepherd and/or Makarov out in Russian I think it would be fun.

However Southern Roach rains supreme I was thinking so hard about a ghostroachsoap au recently based loosely on the song "Farmer's Daughter" by Rodney Atkins. (Y'all let me know if you want the full au its really just farm au cuteness)

Thinking so hard of Roach just being beloved in his small town as this Golden Child precious little dude then he goes off to the military and finally let's that feral side come out a little. Imagine how funny it would be for Ghost and Soap to go home with Roach and see their boyfriend pu on this innocent act and listen to people describe him as this perfect little guy when they know for a fact that Roach is like borderline feral two steps away from being considered a wild animal.

"He's such a good boy, would never hurt a fly."

Ghost and Soap who watched Roach tear a man's throat out with his teeth last week:

Also taking the opportunity to say that we as a community need to start acknowledging hoe canonically skilled Roach is with weapons! Like this is a boy who had both Price and Soap cursing because they couldn't get any kills because he was killing them to fast. This is a boy who beat Ghost (his luitenant) on a rifle test by a wide margin and on the test that ghost beat him he only fell behind four points.

Roach canonical has several extremely brutal takedown moves that he can do, including the pickaxes and the little fucking kick thing he does to the one guy before stabbing him. Also he's like straight up flipping his guns and doing tricks with them and shit in his weapons inspections, Soap talks about how good he is with C4 and shit.

Like I think people see the like spots where he got into trouble and nearly died in the campaign and take that to mean that he's like not as good as Ghost and Soap and needed their help a lot but like honest to God all of the trouble he gets in to is less because he fucked up and more because the world seems to have it out for him.

The roof breaking out from under him, the ice cracking on him, explosions happen to rock his ass just as soon as he hits an open field. Like someone was trying to kill this little fuck and two outta the three times they failed.

And like its not like Roach doesn't help himself during these situations. Like when he fell yeah he had Soap guiding him but he was the one having the run and slide and do all that shit like no amount of Soap's guiding could have made that easy for him.

Also this boy almost falls off a cliff but is able to get himself back on track enough that he not only finishes climbing the cliff but then does a whole ass stealth mission basically invading a Russian military base on his own???

Roach is a very talented and skilled bug and we should all be patting him on the head for how cool he is.

Also I think its absolutely funny cause In my mind he's smaller than Soap and Ghost both like height and build wise (not small, just smaller than those two behemoths) and so when the trio of them are together people like tend to underestimate him meanwhile Ghost and Soap are like "Uh, no, no you uh hey dude no" because they know that Roach will gladly fuck people up.

I also love the idea of Roach appearing out of nowhere like a fucking cryptid. There is no talking behind Roach's back or keeping secrets he is everywhere at once and will appear out of thin air. Ghost and Soap have to like fully leave base if they want to plan a surprise for him and even then both of them have no trust that Roach won't somehow pop into existence next to them waahahhahaha

Alright thats all for my rambling for now

#thoughts with luke #you asked luke #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #ghostroach #soaproach #ghostroachsoap

79 notes · View notes