#remember he's just as much of an ass to her
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For my dear @lyralein (@support un-naughty my girl, you coward!!) and her mastermind of a mind, that came with the (correct) thought that Mr. Alex Keller would be a big shot at French porn.
And et voilà! ✨The porn✨ (and when I say porn, I meant it. There is no plot.)
Masterlist
Working for the CIA has granted Alex the opportunity to visit a multitude of countries, to meet unbelievable people and to push his limits on uncountable occasions.
In a couple too many times he has been at the verge of death, buildings collapsing, missiles flying a tad too close for his liking, friends turned enemies in the blink of an eye… But after all, that's what he signed up for.
Plus, sometimes, it also had some advantages.
Like meeting you.
And hearing your voice so sweetly call for him. “Monsieur, Keller!”
He whips his head around towards the sound of your voice like a dog well trained, turning to look at you standing on the porch of the little palace you lived in.
He drinks you in, standing barefoot on the first step of the short stair, pretty white summer dress accentuating every curve of your body and moving along the jiggle of your body as you effusively waved your hand at him.
He takes advantage of the distance, enough for you to not be able to tell the ungentlemanly places he rests his eyes at. The top of the dress, pulled to the center in a bow and pushing your boobs together calling him in like a siren's song.
He doesn't peel his eyes away from you, unable to do so; walking up to where you stand smiling like an angel upon him.
You shouldn't be calling him. The daughter of the owner of the wine yard shouldn't be talking to the lowest class of the employees. Alex's body is covered on a thin layer of sweat from working outside under the sun, hands grimey with dirt and clothes less than appropriate to be talking to you.
Still, when Alex slightly kicks the stairs to remove the loose dirt from his boots to not bring it inside, you are quick to jump at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him under the shade.
“You shouldn't be working at this time! It's too hot!” You reprimand him, the french accent obvious on your tone making him smile.
“Désolé, mademoiselle…” He attempts to excuse himself, cutting himself short when he sees the offended expression on your face at his french.
“Where did you say you are from again, monsieur Keller?” You ask, trying to switch the language to English again.
Alex looks at you, trying to remember what his last lie was so he can match it. “Quebec.”
You nod, raising your eyebrows at the doubt he is actually from Quebec but choosing to indulge him on his lie. You point to the washbowl on the table, a kind smile still on your face as you order him. “Wash your hands and face, I'll get us something to drink.”
And with that you disappear into the house, letting him the full view of your behind as you walk away. He turns again towards the bowl, using the fresh water to wash off the dirt from his face and hands, cleaning under his nails to make sure not a crumb of dirt has the chance to pollute you.
The door creaks when you open it again, a small tray on your hand that you quickly set on the table beside him. An unnecessary intricate jar full of iced lemon water with two just-as-intricate glasses beside it. But the first thing you grab is the small towel with your family initials embroidered in it.
He picks it up, patting his face and hands dry and checking he did a good job at cleaning himself before handing it back. You drop it on the table, slightly bending forward to pour the water on the glasses, and Alex's eyes are glued to the curve of your ass.
The heat of the summer hits you too, no matter how much of a local you are and he can tell by your clothing choices. The dress you are wearing is so dainty the beauty marks of your skin are visible through the fabric, as well as your lack of underwear.
It causes Alex to swallow a groan at his reaction over such a small detail when he feels his dick stir on his pants at the thought of pulling your dress up. His hand moves on its own, creeping closer and closer towards the flimsy material keeping the touch of your skin from him.
You turn around, filled glass in hand, jumping when you feel his hand rest on the curve of your hip but still, you look at him with the warmest smile on your face. You look down to where his hand is placed, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
“So pretty…” He mumbles, grabbing the glass on your hand without moving his other hand.
“The dress?” You ask, warmth rising to your cheeks at his touch while you try not to break the contact with his blue eyes.
Alex furrowed his eyebrows for a second confused before softening his expression. “...yeah, pretty dress.”
He is the one to break eye contact, dragging his eyes over your body, down to the hem of your dress. He bends forwards, glass still on his hand as the other moves to rest right where the dress ends.
Teasingly, he walks his middle and pointer fingers up your thigh, flicking the skirt up with each step and exposing more bare skin of the leg, while you watch on with bated breath.
He looks at your face again, so he doesn't miss your expression when he finally lets the palm of his hand rest on the softness of your thigh; dangerously close to your core.
“Monsieur Ke- Monsieur Keller!” You call him, trying to sound scandalized when he starts to close his hand, the fat of your inner thigh being squeezed.
But no matter how appalled you try to look, leaning back against the table; Alex notices how you slightly pull your thighs together, pushing his hand towards the middle in the process.
He turns his wrist in one swift motion, with the palm of his hand resting on your cunt. Making you jump to wrap your hand around his wrist, keeping his hand between your thighs as you squeeze them together.
His index finger moves between your folds making you whine as you close your eyes, your hold on his wrist losing strength. It doesn't take long for him to feel wetness dribble over his digit. The feeling making you unclench your legs, allowing him more space between them.
The arousal slowly dripping from your core allows him to slide more easily his finger along your folds, making it easy for him to probe at your entrance, making you close your eyes as little moans and whimpers start to fall from your lips.
Such delicious sounds making him thirsty, but not for the glass of water on his hand. He tries to set it down on the table, but unable to peel his eyes from your pleasured expression he knocks it down making the water run over the surface of the table.
It snaps you out of it, finally pushing his hand away and you stand, turning around to pick up the glass. “I- I better clean it up.” You hurriedly say as you place the glass back on the tray as well as everything else on the table.
He tries to call your name when you turn, but his words die on the back of his throat when he sees the wet fabric of your dress stuck to your plush ass. And it is enough to have him walk behind you, following you inside the house and into the kitchen just a couple of steps behind you.
“You were right, I shouldn't have been working…” He says, making you turn once more with a surprised expression on your face. “I think I might be overheating, mademoiselle...”
You look up to him as he walks closer to you, unable to say anything, intoxicating on his proximity. And when his hands finally wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you against his hard chest and his lips crash against your, the only thing you can do is kiss him back.
He moves his hands up, cupping your face as he hums at the satisfaction of finally feeling your lips against his. Then takes one more step forwards, keeping you trapped between the countertop and his body.
You can feel his groin pressed against your abdomen, feeling it grow and harden with each swim of his hips against your body. The need to feel his skin under your touch making you pull his shirt out of his trouser so you can bury your hand under, your nails dragging over the firm muscle of his waist.
His lips pull apart from yours to kiss his way down your neck, sucking your taste in and letting his tongue roam flat against your skin, feeling your pulse rise up at his actions.
One of your hands moves to the back of his head, tangling your fingers with his hair as you push his face into your neck. “Alex…” You softly moan when his tongue presses on the juncture of your neck and shoulder.
He shushes you, smile appearing on his face. “Now, now, sunshine… Where did Monsieur Keller go?” He asks, pulling back, standing to his whole height as he lets his hands rest on the counter behind you, caging you in. “Let's not lose our manners, alright?”
You nod, mimicking his movements when he does; you mind already getting driven by your body and not your brain. You follow his gaze when he looks down and see his hands pulling your dress up again. He licks his lips at the sight of your thighs trembling with anticipation and he knows that if he pulled them apart they would be glossy with your arousal sliding down.
He chuckles when he sees you look so bashful, averting his eyes but still unable to look away from him, needing to see what his next move will be.
To your dissatisfaction, he lets the dress down; which makes you look at him with questioning doe eyes when he steps back. You are about to question the reason for his change of heart when you see him pull the chair from the kitchen table.
He turns it, sliding it until it's right in front of you. You look from the chair to his face, questioning his plan; and instead of answering your unspoken question he simply sits down, pushing it even more forward. He pulls your dress up again, stuffing the hem of the dress into your cleavage as if it was a napkin to keep it away from his meal.
He pushes down on your chest with the same movement making you lean back on the counter, propped up on your elbows and with a seamless movement, he slides his hands behind your knees and effortlessly moves then to rest over his shoulders.
The surprise of the movement combined with the way he presses his tongue flat against your folds takes every ounce of strength away from your body making you lay flat on your back.
He groans at the taste of your arousal on his tongue, his fingertips sinking into the fat of your thighs around his head when he dives in again. Sliding his tongue between your folds, catching at your clit with a flick.
It makes your thigh tremble, threatening to close; which only encourages him further. Repeating the motion, feeling them flex on each side of his head; his hearing getting muffled with each stripe he licks.
But no matter how tightly you suffocate his skull between them, he can still hear loud and clear the moans and whines dripping from your lips.
He finally opens his eyes, not even aware that he had closed them as soon as he got a taste, letting the rest of his senses enjoy your body. But once he opens his eyes, he can't close them back.
From between your legs, the first thing he sees is your abdomen flexing at the feeling of his mouth lapping at your clit, your back arching at the attack of his tongue. The dress that he so carelessly stuffed on itself, sliding out of your cleavage with your movements. He wishes he could undo the bow keeping your boobs from his prying eyes, but not yet, not when he can prolong it and savor every minute for longer.
The only thing he doesn't love it's that he can't see your face, your head falling back; only letting him see your chin. He wishes he could see your face, see the product of his work in the shape of a pleasured expression just the way he's listening. But he'll see it later, when he's buried deep into you.
For now, he buries his tongue as deep as he cans into your cunt, feeling your inner walls clamp down on it when his nose rubs against your clit deliciously as he shakes his head. It makes you spread your legs, urging him deeper with a hand on his head. You manage to prop yourself on your free elbow, looking down at him. With your fingers tangled on his brunette hair and his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh to keep you close.
His pupils are blown, two black voids looking at you when you finally manage to make eye contact with him for a fraction of a second; before it is the last drop throwing you over the edge.
Your legs closing against his head again, unable to muffle the moan of his name as you come down from your high. His head is pressed so tightly against your cunt he can't even breath, but he would so gladly die there.
The moment your legs free his head he pulls back just enough to breathe, inhaling your smell in the way. He kisses the inner side of your tight leaving a wet spot and then stands again, standing between your legs licking his lips like an animal after eating.
The sight of your body, sprawled and fucked under him, get his dick impossibly harder. Then you raise your hand, using your thumb to collect the juices left on his mustache and before you can pull your hand back to lick it yourself, he grabs your wrist keeping it close and sucks your finger into his mouth. His scorching hot tongue cleaning the juices from your hand without breaking eye contact, it makes you whimper softly; cupping his face with your thumb still inside his mouth and you pull him closer.
“Monsieur Keller…” You whine, calling him like a moth to a light. “Please…”
“I know, love, I know.” He says once he pulls your finger out and he kisses you softly, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hands find their way around your waist pulling you closer and you circle his hips with his legs.
He picks you up, just for a second before sitting back down on the chair with you on his lap. Your hands rest on his shoulders, being you the one to kiss him this time. He can feel you grind your hips against him, the softest whine falling from your lips at the feel of the rough material of his jeans against your sensible cunt.
He moves his hand down, undoing his belt so he can pull his length free. You wish you could see it, but the dress serves as a tent when it slaps against his abdomen. The little wet spot of his seed turning translucent the fabric so you can see the red tip underneath, angry with the lack of attention.
You raise your hips, letting him slap his length against your folds; your arousal getting it slicked and desperate for the feeling of your warm walls engulfing him like a vice.
But he's not the only one desperate for it, and the moment his tip catches on your entrance you pull down in a swift motion taking all of him in, moaning into each other's mouths at the feeling. His hands rests on your hips, keeping you in place.
“Stay there for me, sweetheart.” He moans, head falling back over the backrest of the chair. “Just keep it in for me, fuck…”
His hips move in the smallest thrust, the movement would pass unnoticed if it wasn't for how deep it reaches inside of you. He finally pulls his head back up, coming face to face with your chest. And no matter how pretty the dress is or how good it looks on you, it's the only thing keeping him from seeing you and it's time it goes away.
His hands grab each side of the bow, easily getting it undone and groaning when your boobs finally spill over. He hugs your middle, burying his face between your breasts taking your aroma in before he starts to lap at them.
Licking, sucking and biting every centimeter, his hips immobile making you whine pathetically at the delicious torture of both his attention and the lack of it.
You whine his name again, needing more than just his mouth on your chest. “I know, I know, sweetheart. Just let me taste you some more…” He tries to say, words dying down on his throat when you begin to move your hips.
“T-tu… tu es… trés…” He tries to say again, so enamored with the feel of your tight cunt around his cock it makes him switch languages.
He doesn't get to finish his attempt before you push your hand over his mouth, pushing his head back. “Enough with the shitty French, Monsieur Keller…” You moan, the feeling of his length hitting every sweet spot inside of you getting ruined by his continuous butchering of your language.
He apologised against your hand, doing it again when you beg him to fuck you, your thighs getting tired of the cramped position. He pulls your dress up, pulling it off your body, finally having you completely exposed to him. His hands roam your body, getting distracted from his original plan.
Only remembering when you whine his name again, picking you up to lay you down on the kitchen table like the most precious and delicate piece of art. You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking at him with lust and hunger in your eyes.
He spreads your legs, laying his dick flat against your folds, sliding it in between making the two of you moan softly. It finally gives you the chance to catch a glimpse of his length.
The droplet of precum slowly falls over your mount of venus when he glides forwards, allowing you to see the glistering layer of your arousal mixing with his.
He moves you to lay on your side, moving your leg up, your knee almost touching your shoulder when you prop yourself up on your elbow. And at the same time he buries himself to the hilt, the double stretch making your mouth fall open as you look at him, a deaf moan waiting to be spilled.
“Big stretch, sweetheart “ He grunts as he sets himself inside of you, bending down to kiss your open mouth. He might have already been inside of you when you were both sitting down, but the new position has you feeling it all again as if he didn't.
The moan finally comes to life when his hand meets his shaft, collecting the fluids flooding for your cunt to wet his thumb and rubbing soft circles around your clit. You moan his name, your hand grabbing his shirt to ground yourself.
“Fucking hell, sunshine… Taking me so fucking good…” He moans, hiding his face on the crook of your neck. “Fuck… This cunt was fucking made to take me, love. Fucking perfect, you are. My fucking perfect sunshine.”
His thrusts start to pick up the pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin getting louder and louder; only overshadowed by the song of moans falling from one mouth to the other.
He is still almost completely dressed, his pants still over the curve of his ass. So slowly sliding down with each snap of his hips, the belt clinking with each movement. It works as proof of his desperation to be inside, no matter how uncomfortable the clothes are, it is not worth it wasting time on taking it off.
Not when your cunt is sucking him in so deliciously, each rub at your hooded clit making you clench around him; urging him impossibly deeper. His shaft dragging along your wall, caressing each and every sweet spot inside of you.
It has you closing your eyes with your eyebrows furrowed, an expression that would make him think you were in pain if it wasn't by the loud moans of his name leaving your lips like a mantra.
“Open your eyes, please, sweetheart… Look at me, love.” He moans, moving his free hand to cup your face so you will look at him. Resting his forehead against yours, your breath hitting his chin. “I wanna see your pretty face when you cum, sweetheart, please.”
You finally open your eyes, looking right into his when he slightly moves back and it is like an arrow went through his heart. He notices how your free hand grabs the arm on your face, not wanting to let escape any kind of contact and his heart melts when he notices you lay your face on his hand, kissing his palm.
Such a small gesture that has his blood rushing to his head making the tip of his ears blush, as if he wasn't balls deep into you. But he feels his ball tighten with the want for release, and he can't miss the opportunity to feel you come undone around his dick.
So using every ounce of self restraint he pulls the hand from your face away, moving it back to where you are connected, rubbing his thumb over your clit making you mewl.
He can feel you get tighter and tighter as your orgasm approaches, making it harder for him to move freely at the immensely pleasurable feeling.
It's only when he finally feels you unclench, your head falling back in a silent cry and your legs shaking slightly; that he feels you cum, your arousal spurting out of your drenched cunt with each thrust of his hips.
He groans, having missed your fuck out expression when you let your head fall and deprived him of the desired sight. So he moves his hand from your clit, moving it to the back of your head to move it forward so you look right at him.
And you look so beautiful, if he died right there he would die happy, so he can't help himself when he bends forwards, kissing you sloppy and nasty with his horny brain.
The last thrusts of his hips hard and deep making you bounce and whine, moaning softly and long when you feel him spill deep inside of you. A shiver running down your spine at the warm sensation, your hand on his shirt falling down to help you support yourself.
And it's when you pull apart from the kiss, hair sticking to your forehead from the sweat, your chest rising at an unsteady pace and your cunt still pulsing around his length that he realizes how deep under his skin you have buried yourself.
He can't keep living like this, not able to sleep in the same bed as you every night, waiting for another opportunity like this, hoping everyday will be the day. He needs to see your smile everyday, to have your number, for you to have his surname, everything. Absolute smitten with you, enamored even. Falling so deep in love after such a short period of time, his heart aching at the thought of pulling away, how could he not love you when you are so obviously his soulmat-
“D'accord! That was a good one, let's wrap everything up, tout le monde!” The director shouts, bringing the situation down on Alex.
He suddenly realizes everyone around the two of you, the cameras, the crew, the assistants, the director.
The whole vineyard owner's daughter plot of the porn movie was a bit odd from the beginning, but when he laid his eyes on him he didn't give a damn about the plot.
Being a CIA agent had made Alex live in strange situations, but starring on a porn movie in a foreign country had to be the top one.
He barely remembers how this was related with the mission, something about some suspicious money being moved along with the crew. But in all honesty, he would also move all his money after you.
Especially when you clench for a last time around his girth, the aftershock of you orgasm that makes him groan as he finally pulls out. “Sorry” The two of you mumble, chuckling at the echo and blushing like you didn't just fuck eachother brains off.
He helps you stand back on your feet, his hands resting on your waist and unable to peel his eyes away from your face.
“Are you alright, Alex?” You ask, rubbing his biceps in a consoling way.
And you look at him so softly, almost unaffected by the whole ordeal, that it sends Alex into a spiral. Were those noises you were making real? Was the way you were clinging onto his shoulder true? Would you moan his name just like you moaned his surname?
He needed to know the answer to those questions, and there was only one way to find out.
“Y-Yeah, don't worry about it, love.” He says making you smile wider. “But I was wondering… do you know any good restaurants in the area? Maybe one you wouldn't mind having dinner at with me?”
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@thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121
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@hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @cod-z @fraserbraw
@rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting
@dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708
@katreintjie @sacvh @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr
@yuki2129 @mikaronn @idk-justkane
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★j𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 ★
pairing: yandere! min yoongi x f. reader
genre: fluff? || smut || non-idol au || yandere
summary: after a couple of months of just staring at the same four walls, you realize you do love yoongi as much as he loves you, or maybe you’re just trying to survive.
word count: +2.1k
tags/warnings: yoongi kidnaps reader, unprotected sex, yoongi is delusional asf...(a ‘bit’ crazy in the head), pregnancy, murder(s), stockholm syndrome, mentions of drugging, unconsensual touching, dom! yoongi, sub!reader, stalking, reader starts going crazy lowkey
notes: this is more like a small drabble for yoongi :) and its kinda written to show that the reader is losing her mind, sorry if it’s confusing!
༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺
min yoongi was a man of a few words. he liked to relax his mind with his own devices; never one to say much with other people, even to himself. he was an introvert from the very start. his past relationships were always left in pieces; left with girls in tears while munching on tubs of ice cream left and right from such a lousy boyfriend who never cared about them. how he couldn't save their relationship from ruins, leaving it to dissolve with no worries at all for the future of what they could be. if he's honest, yoongi doesn't even know (or care to) how he managed to get women to go out with him. what he thought was just a couple of hookups was actually a relationship to some of his 'girlfriends'. maybe, he just couldn't understand women or maybe, just maybe, he was a sleazy ass who preferred to be by himself.
but, yoongi preferred to say that he loved his alone time more and wasn't prepared for a full-time relationship. the peace that he had built within his mind was enough for him. yoongi didn't really need anything else around him except for money, which was his income from working a boring office job from nine to five; monday to friday with decaf coffee in his hands daily and blue light glasses to protect him from the screen of his desktop.
the constant noise of the people around him were just annoying crowds that he couldn't handle. that was until he landed his eyes on you. it's a day he clearly remembers from sunrise to dawn. how could he ever forget seeing such a pretty face?
it was just his luck that his apartment was far from the city. one word could describe his apartment: perfect. the land was extremely quiet since no one else lived around. the only exceptional noise that would interrupt the silence would be the animals: the deers that would constantly communicate with the others, bunnies hopping around, hummingbirds that chirp with soft ends, or the baby opossums that would sneeze to get their parents' attention. yoongi's house had more than enough of love. he lived for it. however, it never hurts to add more to a loving house, especially when he was missing someone by his side. yoongi couldn't believe his luck on how this apartment was so excluded from the world; from the hands of society. it's exactly what he needed when he wanted to play his guitar with no one knocking on his door to disturb him. or when he wanted to listen to his music out loud, or to keep you safe in his home. its like it was meant to hide someone inside it, and the best part is that no one would ever know. no person can search somewhere they don't know exist. in other words, you were meant to be his.
the second you were inside, yoongi had basically erased your existence from earth. your missing poster left on wooden poles, shops, and shown on the news. and yet, not a single trace of you was found; questions about your appearance went unanswered. everyone was clueless on what could've happened to you. your disappearance was a complete mystery to everyone: where had you gone?
are you still alive?
it was uncomfortable to wake up. your head was pounding and the dizziness that took place in your head only further pushed you to have nausea. "finally." a deep, unsettling voice boomed out of somewhere. startled by the sudden noise, you quickly glance up to catch sight of a man's eyes. he stood right next to the door. that was the beginning of a new chapter. you were slipping away from sanity as time passed. most of the time, you were left alone. 'where am i?' You just sat on the bed trying to figure out what happened; what was happening. the man who stood in the corner — you learned his name was Yoongi — left after a while. he would talk a little with you before leaving the room, saying something about grocery shopping.
you kept up a calm facade for the sake of survival. You had to or else you didn't know what your captor would do to you. you had full knowledge that he had the possibility of hurting you, or even worse, he could kill you. just like he had the guts to take you from your own freedom and dreams from when you were a little girl.
but there was no stopping time. it crept up until you realized that you've done nothing to help yourself get out. you've sat there day and night, acting like a good girl for him when it wasn't even you who wanted to be there. you've wasted seconds that led into days and you hope that it doesn't go on to years because you've truly lost yourself in this house. so, you prepared and waited until he left to act out. what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
as soon as Yoongi disappeared from your room and heard another door close, you took the opportunity to do what you don't usually do. all your yells for help and screams of desperation were drowned by the trees. You kept losing hope each wasted second. you were watching it slowly fall away from your grasp, and you couldn't do anything. the remorse of watching as the days went by and you were still stuck in a room locked in by your captor. It was just him and you. You and him. but he swore on the stars that when the time comes, it will no longer just be him and you, but mini-hims and mini-yous waddling around the house.
the small interactions you had with him were uncomfortably awkward for you, and you could clearly tell that he knew. and yet, he stuck around, choosing to stay and 'talk' with you. he didn't want you to think you were alone. he would be there for you.
as the weeks passed, the situation worsened for you. at first it was him moving into the room along with his things, then the part where he started sleeping next to you, and eventually to changing in front of you, touching you, and kissing you. Soon enough, it got more intense. That's when you knew you had to get out someway. You knew what step was next when his touching didn't stop at a few pecks. yoongi began to play with your tits, holding your ass tight to his crotch every night. you just couldn't get away from him.
everything was fucking shut tight. you felt the heat of anger crawling in your body. each window was locked, even the cabinets were locked. there were also hidden cameras. it was just your luck when you had found one in the bedroom hidden perfectly. you were very surprised when you saw it peeking out of the lights. it just proved to you that yoongi was a fucking lunatic. he had been watching you and you were fucking clueless about it. but it also meant that there could of been hundreds of these tiny cameras recording you. you needed to get out.
you couldn't take it any longer. You were watched every single second. You were touched when he was home. You just couldn't keep it going like this. it was your breaking point. you screamed, sobbed, and whimpered at the fact that you were here. 'pathetic', you thought. there you were crying miserably on your mattress without trying to escape.
you heard the door open and then close, you dug your head into your pillow as the footsteps came closer. "it's okay." You immediately felt the presence of Yoongi by your side, pulling you up into a hug. he was panting. "I was worried about you." The hug got tighter. "I came here as fast as I could."
yoongi had worried about you. in that moment, you realized that maybe you gave up long ago. That's why you let him do what he did, after all, a whole year did pass without your knowledge. missing posters crumbling on the floor as the world continued to revolve without your existence. You had gotten used to his presence, his kisses, his behavior, and his love towards you. You were so frightened at first and used his attraction for you as a shield.
he kissed your lips gently before sticking his tongue inside of your mouth. your arms unconsciously wrapped around him. And for the first time, you let him touch you with his love and lust. the unbuckling of his belt made goosebumps grow out of excitement. With one thrust, your pussy sucked him in whole. Yoongi lowly groaned while you whimpered at the sudden feeling of his cock inside of you."I love you."
Yoongi waited. Were you going to say it back? his hips pounded into you with a harsh pace. You guttered nonsense as you quickly held onto his shoulders for support. the overstimulation flourishing on your cunt as his cock disappeared inside of you. "I-I love you..."
He kissed your nose gently. Yoongi stayed still until you came, cunt squirting around his cock with need. He moved his cock out slowly before filling you back in, his hot tip reach your cervix. a smile on his lips as he continued to repeat his desperate actions. a yearn in him to hear you moan in his ears louder. to make sure his cockhead reached your soft spot good enough that you would be whimpering under him as his cock perfectly managed to hit your g-spot. yoongi sucked on your skin, groaning against it as your pussy clenched around him. you were so perfect. his fingers dived into your hair as you milked his dick dry. his pace got sloppier, soft grunts escaping his throat as you legs wrapped him closer to you. yoongi pushed himself until he was deep inside of you, cumming with a loud moan leaving his lips. limbs comforting each other as the stars shined brightly until the sun outshined them once again.
the constant fear of you leaving had vanished in yoongi. replaced with a loving emotion that never left him once. While you slept in his arms, he eyed you. his fingers tracing over your arms, "I really do love you." And he meant that. That's why no one was ever around the area his apartment was in. He made sure the cameras he brought were in use to protect his territory from trespassers. buying red, bold signs to keep people out of what's supposed to be kept hidden, and for anyone who didn't listen, there's a reason he bought a shotgun. he killed anyone that passed the border between your world and reality. it's really the main reason for the cameras that were placed everywhere: inside and outside.
And as time passed rather quickly, your stomach grew and your tits swelled with milk. yoongi couldn't contain the pure excitement when he found out. you were pregnant with his child; a family both of you were able to grow out of dreams. yoongi smiled as he talked day and night, chuckling as he pressed his ear and hands to your stomach. he couldn't be happier that everything he dreamt of was finally happening.
All he had to do was wait and the perfect family he had planned for years prior had been achieved. you were clueless to everything he'd done, maybe cause of the constant drugs that he put in your food and drinks. secretly hiding away inside the locked cabinets. yoongi's lips kissed your head with softness while you carried his tiny daughter in your arms after nine months of constant patience and care. "I really do love you, __." the tears that swelled up in your eyes reminding you of your past; memories that once rested coming back to haunt you. you felt the knot inside your throat, the disgusting taste of wanting to throw up because of the gruesome sight in front of you. The doctor's snow-colored coat was splattered with his own blood. he was dead, stabbed to death by your yoongi. the knife in the middle of his chest tensing you up along with the other harsh cuts against his skin. "I had to", was all he repeated, "for our baby." his fingers gently wiping the tears from your cheeks, "say it." You felt like you couldn't breathe during that moment. everything was taking you back to day one. "i-", you paused as your voice trembled, "i love you." the pile of blood grew, drowning out the wooden floor. a faint pink colored yoongi's cheeks, "i love you more."
#bts yandere#bts imagines#yandere bts#bts smut#yandere#tw yandere#bts#bangtan#bts fanfic#yandere x reader#bts fic#bts x reader#yandere x darling#yandere yoongi#bts yoongi#min suga#min yoongi#bangtangboys#yandere male#yoongi#bts suga#bts fanfction#bts dad au#bangtan smut#yoongi smut
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Can you please do spencer reid smut!!! With a dom spencer reid, with pet names (GOOD GIRL) and Bondage!!! So! Much! Bondage! And they are so mady in love ajd its kinky but also so wholesome PLEASE
YES YES YESSSSS (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧✧✧ʸᴱˢ
It's 1 AM bare with me pls pls
SMUTT, CURSING, ORAL SEX (female receiving) lovey dovey after care.
Bound to love
Spencer loved having Y/N move in with him. Especially when he comes home from long cases, to just have her there with him already makes him so happy.
Spencer was away on a week long case, it didn't go smoothly, the information didn't add up and the MO switched mid case.
So when he got home and saw Y/N in only his sweatshirt and a pair of panties he lost it.
"Your home! " Y/N says happily running over and kissing him, just a quick peck. He pulls her closer kissing her harder and longer, forcing his tongue in her mouth making her moan.
"I missed you.. So. Much" he said between kisses. "How much? " she teases, feeling arousal course through her veins and into her panties.
"Go to the bedroom, strip and sit on the bed and I'll show you, I'll be there in a minute now be a good girl and be patient. No touching yourself sweetheart" he says smirking.
Her cheeks blush at the pet name and she nods and does as told.
Spencer takes his sweet ass time, making her wait, testing her patients, seeing how well she will listen, he gets a glass of water and some snacks for after.
Y/N waits impatiently naked on their shared bed.
Of course she wanted to be a good girl, but sometimes it's fun breaking the rules.
She lays back, propped up on some pillows and spreads her legs, smearing her wetness from her slit to her clit (I'm Dr Seuss now?) rubbing it lazily.
Spencer hears her moan and grins to himself. His plan worked. He knew she wouldn't be able to wait, she is to much of a needy slut.
He enters the bed room with a bag.
"Tsk tsk, i thought you were my good girl baby? Hm? " He says disappointedly. "M'your good girl Spence" she whines as he removes her hand from herself, she looks at the bag and then back at him and raises an eyebrow.
He leans down, his mouth next to her ear. "Remember you said you wanted to try some new things? Hmm? " he whispers out into her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. She nods. "Words love" he reminds. "Y-yes" she says, trying to focus on his words rather than the close proximity. "Good girl, now, do you trust me? " he asks standing back up and away "yes of course" she says. He smiles.
He pulls a soft rope out of the bag, it's his favorite shade of purple. Her breathing hitches.
"Is this ok? " he asks before he ties her wrists to the bed. She nods before remembering to use her words. "Yes sir" she says.
The ropes are tight, but give enough room not to hurt and to be comfortable. Then he ties her ankles to the bed.
"You ok? " he asks one more time. "Yes please just touch me Spencer " she whines, hips arching off the bed in need.
He chuckles before stripping himself of his work clothing. His cock hard, leaking precum, her pussy clenches at the thought of him being inside her.
He kisses her passionately, kissing down her neck, flicking his tongue across both her nipples, before decending lower to her sweet pussy, licking around where she needs him the most before he takes her clit into his mouth sucking gently.
His finger slips in before another one is added making her whimper out in pleasure. "Spencer oh god I'm gonna cum" she moans. He groans against her, vibrating against her. She cums hard but he doesn't stop til she comes another time.
"Need your cock please" she says desperately, "shh your gonna get it, be a good girl" he groans, stroking himself before lining up with her dripping core. He pushes in, letting out a low groan. His face burried in her neck, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.
"Your taking me so good"
"Such a good girl for me"
"Your mine, this pussy was made for me baby"
"Making me feel so good sweetheart. "
The words send her over the edge, he soon follows after, filling her pussy up with his seed.
"I love you" she says out of breath.
"I love you too, so much" he says before quickly getting the water and snacks he prepared earlier.
"You were so good baby" he says, her head on his chest, as they watch her favorite movie.
"I liked that a lot" she admits shyly.
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x reader smut#soft dom!spencer#dom!spencer#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#dom spencer reid
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⎯ STOCKHOLM. christopher bahng chan
🎧 : bang chan x female reader
TROPE. age gap! au (chan is 37, reader is 18), kidnapper x kidnapped
WORD COUNT. 2.5k
WARNINGS. drinking, mentions of drugs, illegal activities, nineteen-year age gap, kidnapping, reader falls in love with her kidnapper, sadism + masochism
SYNOPSIS. on the morning of january first, y/n wakes up chained to a wall, stripped to her undergarments, and a camera pointed right at her. strangely enough, behind the camera is what looks like a harmless, friendly, incredibly attractive man. as y/n and the mysterious Bang Chan begin to learn more about each other, y/n finds herself succumbing to stockholm syndrome: falling in love with her very own kidnapper
SMUT WARNINGS. sadism + masochism, use of vibrator, some non-con themes, sextape making, overstimulation + edging, corruption kink, exhibitionism, dumbification kink
As your eyes opened, you expected to wake up somewhere you didn't know. You were absolutely wasted the night before - New Year's Eve - and you had been almost one-hundred percent sure you would wake up in someone else's bed. However, you hadn't imagined that you would wake up with shackles around your ankles and wrists, keeping you tight against a concrete wall in a cold room that somewhat resembled your great-grandmother's basement.
You're flabbergasted, to say the last. In all of your years getting drunk and fucking random people, you had never been kidnapped. And either this guy was really fucking kinky, or you had been kidnapped.
You suspect the latter, seeing the tape recorder set up on a tripod in front of you, facing you. As you survey your surroundings, you also take in your attire - completely nude, spare for your lacy white bra and matching panties, complete with a small white bow.
"Morning."
You look up, startled at the handsome guy that you hadn't noticed enter the room.
"Y/N, right? I'm not sure I caught your name last night."
You vaguely remember his face as one of the guys you had danced with the night before, letting him grind up against you and grope your body to the beat of the music. You nod at him.
"Do you know why you're here, Y/N?"
You shake your head, staying silent.
"I find you quite beautiful, actually." The man has a thick Australian accent, one you're sure you remember from the party. "Really, a work of art. An ass to kill for, and apparently, unmatched intelligence."
"That's just a rumor," you say finally.
"Ahhhh, she speaks. You have such a pretty voice, sweetie." He sends you a dimpled smile. "I really don't think it is, though. Your IQ is three higher than that of Albert Einstein. Do you know what that means, sweetheart?"
You watch him, waiting for an answer.
"It means you are a certified genius." The man's smile drops. "This is why you've peaked my interest."
"'Cause I'm good at taking tests?" you ask softly.
He shakes his head. "Much more than that. I want to pick your brain apart, pretty girl. I wanna find out what makes you tick." Then, he smiles again, wickedly. "But more than that, I want to humiliate and violate you in ways you wouldn't have thought possible."
So that's what he is, you think to yourself. A psycho with a god complex.
"Do you think I can do that?" he asks.
"Do what?"
"Everything I just said."
"Yes I do."
He tilts his head at me. "Giving in so easy?"
"What else should I do?"
He moves closer to you, taking your chin in his hand and examining your face. "I suppose you're right."
You watch him, utterly stunned at how fucking exquisite your kidnapper's appearance is.
He backs away from you now, moving behind the tape recorder. He repositions it so that it's trained on you, then turns the viewing component of it so that you can see yourself, dangling helplessly and half-naked from the wall. "I'm going to start, yes?"
You nod slowly. You know that fighting whatever this man was about to do to you would be futile, so you waited and watched, eyelashes fluttering.
He retrieves a knife from a table of dangerous-looking utensils off to your left, returning to you.
"What should I call you?" you ask him suddenly, dreading the feel of the knife tracing your skin.
"Chris," he says simply. "In Korea, they call me Chan. Here they call me Chris."
"Chris? Or Chan? Which do you prefer?"
He tilts his head, as if puzzled by the question. "I'm not sure."
"I like Chan. It suits your face."
"Does it now?"
You nod, humming a "yes."
Chan's lips quirk up in a half-smile, and you find yourself smiling back. "First things first," he says after a moment, "I need to mark you."
"Mark me?"
He nods. "It won't hurt long, love." He moves around you, to your left side, and grasps your thigh gently. You bite back a gasp, watching as he lifts the knife. It's digging into your skin before you can protest, drawing a thin line of scarlet over the plush skin. You register in your mind it hurts, but it fascinates you to watch, taking your thoughts off the pain and onto the beauty of the letters that he's now carved into your leg. B.C., in small, pretty writing right in the middle of your thigh.
"Painful?" he asks, moving back to the table to the side and retrieving some sort of paper towel, returning to you and gently dabbing at the blood.
You blink. "A little."
"You didn't scream," he says.
"I didn't."
"I wish you would have."
"Would you like me to now?"
"No, sweetheart, don't force it."
You're surprised at how easy this conversation comes to you. This man just cut his initials into your thigh, and all you could think about were his pretty dimples and crinkly eyes.
"Where are you from?" you ask.
Chan looks up at you. "You baffle me," he says, examining you. Then, "I was born in Seoul, but I grew up in Sydney." He pauses. "You?"
You tell him where you were born, surprised at how intently he listened to you.
"I like hearing you speak," he says. "Your voice is beautiful."
You stay quiet, unsure what to think.
"I bet your screams would be beautiful too." A mischievous expression flits across his face. "You know what I bet would be the most beautiful of all?" He leans in close to you, so that his lips are right next to your ear. "Your moans."
You blink dumbly up at him.
"Look at you." He cradles your cheek in his hand, watching you with a bittersweet expression. "Intelligence already crumbling. I thought you'd last longer, sweetie."
You're tongue-tied, both disgusted and turned on by the sadistic words.
He pats your cheek once, twice, then turns away. "I'll be back later to bring you dinner, and a fun little toy."
"What am I supposed to do until then?" you ask quickly, desperate for him not to leave you. As much as you don't want to be down here with him, you even less want to be down here without him.
He shrugs. "You'll find something." Then he pauses. "Actually . . . would you like your toy early, hmm?"
You nod slowly. Chan retreats from the room, returning a few minutes later with a white box. He opens it, inside awaiting what looked like a vibrator. Nope, scratch that, it was a vibrator.
You swallow, looking at it, and Chan grins at you. "The best form of torture is too much pleasure, don't you agree, sweetie?"
You swallow hard, finding yourself nodding nervously.
Chan moves back over to you, stepping gracefully, and smiles. "For the next three hours, this is going to be attached directly to your clit."
You only stare at him.
He begins by removing your panties, then your bra, leaving you completely bare for him, and for the tape recorder.
"Pretty pussy," he mumbles, as though to himself. He leans forward, using one finger to spread your lower lips and another to prod around your private area, poking gently into your hole, then around your clit. Finally, he stops, bringing up the vibrator and configuring it so that the head stayed directly on your clit. He gently turns it on, watching as you gasp a little.
"Three hours," he says, tapping his wrist, then turning the vibrator to the highest setting. "I'll see you, pretty girl."
The moment the door is closed, unable to bite back the noises produced from this torturous device.
Three hours later, you've passed out four times, came at least twenty, and are shaking, dripping sweat, and sobbing. Your clit burns with too many sensations, and your stomach convulses violently with every buzz being emitted into your core.
When Chan reenters the room, he carries with him a plate of food. He sets it down quickly upon seeing your ragged state, mouth open slightly as he watches you.
You hardly notice him enter, buzzing with too many sensations. You only snap back to reality when you hear a shutter flick in front of you, and you find that he's taken a Polaroid photo of you.
He stays silent, listening to you whimper as the film develops. When it's complete, he turns off the vibrator, and you slump in your shackles. You feel him unlock your ankles, then your wrists, and you drop to your knees on the floor, still shaking vigorously.
Chan kneels beside you, brushing your hair from your face and soothingly thumbing your cheek. "Tired?"
You nod.
"Too tired to eat?"
You nod again.
"No you're not." He stands, retrieving the plate of food he brought with him. On it is what looks like a rather appetizing piece of chicken, salad, and small bowl of pasta. "Eat."
"What if I don't want to?"
"I'll force feed it to you."
You can't tell if he's joking, so you shakily take a bite. You struggle as you pick up your fork, and Chan takes it from you exasperatedly. "Let me," he says. He gathers a bit of salad on the fork, taps your jaw for you to open your mouth, and puts it in. You close your mouth, letting the lettuce fall onto your tongue, eyes locked with his.
"I'm sorry," you find yourself saying.
"Why?"
"I'm shaking."
"That's not your fault, is it?"
You shake your head.
"Then why are you sorry? Hmm?"
You shrug as he puts another bite of salad in your mouth.
The two of you stay silent for the rest of the meal. That night, he doesn't reshackle you, but locks the door behind him. The next day, he returns. At least, you assume it's the next day. You're not sure how much time has passed since you've woken up in this dank room. He'll come for a few hours in the morning, then leave for a few hours, then return for a few more. Each time he returns, he asks about you. As if he truly wants to get to know you, instead of killing you. He continues torturous ministrations, destroying your body and your mind in one. And somehow, you hardly mind.
Finally, on the evening of what you can guess is the ninth day, he returns as usual, bringing with him a meal.
He watches you eat, tongue in his cheek. "I'd like to bring you upstairs today."
You pause to stare at him. "Up . . . upstairs?"
He nods. "You should shower, before you stink any more."
You look down. "It's not exactly that sanitary down here."
"I'm well aware. That's why I'm bringing you up. I quite like you, honestly. So I'd like to propose to you an offer."
"An offer?"
"An offer. An exchange, I suppose. Your freedom for your service."
"Go on."
"You will marry me. You will be presented as my wife, and you will act as such in the public eye. In private, you are mine. You're my slave - my belonging."
"I just have to stay with you?" You look up at him. You're smart enough to know that even seeing the sunshine for a day being married to a kidnapper would be better than rotting down here until he eventually decided he'd had enough and kill you. Your mind was made up, but you were curious.
"Yes, love. I'm fond of you, actually."
Fond of me. You ponder this. "Okay . . . I'll do it. First, though, I have a question."
"Shoot."
"How old are you?"
Chan looks down. "I'm thirty-seven."
"Oh."
He nods. "You?"
"Eighteen." You meet his eyes.
"So young and fragile." Chan traces his fingers over your cheek. "So much to corrupt, hmm?"
You nod.
"Come on, you need to shower."
You let him bring you upstairs. You leave the basement into a small house. The walls are pretty pastels, decorated with plants and paintings of all varieties. Chan brings you away from the main floor, up another flight of stairs to what you can guess is his bedroom. It's neat and tidy, and an open door off to your right is your best guess at a bathroom.
He brings you into the bathroom, letting you strip out of the clothes he gave you a few days before, after finally giving in to your begging for warmth. You jump a little as he starts to remove his shirt. "What are you doing?"
"Stripping. I'm joining you."
"Um, why?"
"'Cause I'm not letting you off yourself with a razor in my shower."
"I wasn't gonna off myself with a razor in your shower."
"How do I know that?"
You watch him, deciding not to argue. The water is already on, steaming up the room, and his skin glistens with every movement. You avert your eyes from his dick, but you can see its general shape in your peripheral vision. Huge.
He pulls you into the shower by your waist, stepping in behind you. He'd seen you naked before, but something about this close proximity and steamy room felt so much more intimate than the hours of sextapes he had filmed of you.
Chan helps you wash your hair, then your body. His touch lingers over your curves, rubbing you in a way that you didn't know was possible. It's only moments after that you find yourself hoisted up, legs tucked around his waist, hands running through his hair, head tipped back as his lips attach to your neck.
"Do you promise to be mine?" he whispers into your jaw, teeth grazing your Adam's apple.
"I promise," you say desperately, watching him with hooded eyes.
He pushes inside you with no warning, already rock hard. You feel the tip of his member kissing your cervix, pressing in just the right ways against your walls. He kisses you hard, pushing you against the wall of the shower. Chan is thrusting inside you slowly, mouth struggling to stay attached to yours as the two of you are overwhelmed by emotions and sensations.
You cum at the same time as him, coaxing every last drop of cum from his cock.
You collapse into him, shaking as you come down from your high. He holds you gently, turning off the water and helping you out of the shower. He's wordless as he wraps a warm towel around you, kissing your forehead as he dries you, then himself, then helps you to his bed.
"Just sleep, love," he tells you softly. "I'll wake you up in the morning."
The next morning, Chan is beside you, sleeping soundly. For some reason, you're comforted by the sight. The man who kidnapped you nine days ago - who would have thought you'd be madly in love with him by the end of it all.
TAGLIST ⎯
@jisunglyricist @hash2013
let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!
#smut#stray kids#skz#bang chan#felix#han#lee know#seungmin#hyunjin#oneshot#kidnapper#kidnappers#kidnap au#murder#horror#bang chan smut#bang chan x you#chan x reader#chan smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan imagines#prod.j.one
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I saw you mentioned you liked kid fic and had bookmarks— do you have any reccs for maxiel kid fics?❤️❤️
do i ever!!!! one thing about me is that i will eat kid fics up, like i think i’ve read about all the tagged kid fics in the maxiel tag. i love seeing what names authors choose for their children and it just makes me happy. here's a couple and if you want more lmk!
listen to the slow parts by @nobrakesdown [T-7.2k]
Neither Max or Daniel are the one to find the baby. That honor belongs to Christian, and Christian alone.
a lil you, a lil me, a perfect being by 3_33 (@maxcuntstappen) [G-4.8k]
The three of them stand outside, looking at the entrance, August in the middle, clutching tightly onto Max and Daniel’s hands.
“Okay, I need you both to repeat after me.”
“Daniel, we already did this in the car. Can we please just go in?” Max asks, desperately, which only confirms to Daniel the need to remind all of them of the ground rules.
“Baby, please. We need to remember, okay? We are here to meet some new friends and play with them. It is okay if we don’t meet anybody we like. We can always come again. There is no need for us to be upset. Yeah?”
“Yes, Daddy,” August says and drops his hand to give Daniel a mock salute and Daniel really didn’t know he could love someone so much.
“Max,” Daniel implores, knowing that it is as important that his husband acknowledges the plan as much as their kid.
“Yes, yes, Daniel, okay,” Max rolls his eyes but nods in agreement.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Daniel says. The three of them walk in through the doors.
Or: Daniel and Max visit an animal shelter for their son, August's fourth birthday. Daniel is apprehensive. Max and August are vibrating out of their skin.
That's Where I Am by @flawlessassholes [E-47.8k-6/8]
“Her name is Emily,” Daniel says softly.
Max’s eyes snap down to the baby, still sleeping on Daniel’s chest. It’s—she’s snoring a little. In that snuffly way that babies snore.
“Short for Emilian.”
His eyes snap back to Daniel’s face, so serious, and Max knows it’s a joke, of course, but he still opens his mouth to say—
Then Daniel’s face breaks into that wide grin, the real one, the one Max hasn’t seen since. Well. In a while. It feels at once so familiar, and also like seeing something rise from the dead.
There’s a month between Melbourne and Baku. A month to convince Daniel to return to racing. A month to learn and relearn how to love. A month for everything to feel right amidst a season that has felt nothing but wrong. A month to create a family, and a month to maybe lose it all.
keep me in the open by Aurelia (Lily_Rizzy) (@lilyrizzy) [E-11.7k]
"Chrissy Baker sounds like a cunt,” Daniel says, then cringes at the pointed look his mum shoots him. “What? It’s not like they’re old enough to repeat that yet.”
Grace laughs, the sound audible now over Livia’s cries, which are quickly fading into miserable whimpers. Of course, she behaves for grandma, and not the dad who dotes on her endlessly, feeds her, cuddles her, and wipes her smelly ass.
“Three words, Daniel,” she says, eyebrows raised. “Cash, money, bitches.”
or, Daniel navigates bed times, bath times and jealousy, while Max races his last season in Formula One
summer sun after the rain by gentleau [T-11.7k]
“Papà? Is Max your friend?”
“He used to be.”
then you came by beforemidnight [G-4.5k]
Daniel looks at Max swiftly but pointedly. Smiling, he looks back at the camera. “Marrying him was the easiest decision of my life.”
(don't let) the days go by citydreaming (@thewindowatkirkland) [M-11.3k]
“Hey” Daniel says “thanks for coming over.”
“Is now a good time? If you are busy I can come back later.”
“Now is fine, she’s already asleep so we should be able to talk without being interrupted.”
“Talk about how you have a daughter.”
Daniel bites his lip nervously “yeah, about that.”
OR: single dad daniel returns to the grid for one final year with red bull, max doesn’t plan on falling in love with him and his daughter, but somehow it happens anyway.
#i have also gone through all 187 pages of the maxiel tag alphabetically by author but we don’t need to talk about that#me my ao3 bookmarks and google sheets against the world#f1 fic rec#maxiel
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Act Naturally
Summary: Lucy has always had a crush on her dad's favorite actor, Cooper Howard. So imagine her surprise when the Western actor ends up as her new husband.
Pairings: Pre-War Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean
Warnings: None yet? I just really wanted to see Prewar Cooper with Lucy. Let's pretend and have fun. ❤️
Cooper doesn't remember how he signed up to be put inside a big ass freezer, or how being frozen constituted being a "good" vault as his late wife once put it. But he was here now, and the actor would do his best to make the best of it.
After "moving" from Vault 31 to Vault 32, Cooper had little time to settle in before he was being summoned to the overseer's office and being informed that he'd been selected to partake in Vaults 32 and 33's arranged marriage program. He would be paired with a young woman named Lucy Maclean and would be expected to help "rehabilitate" America when the time came.
Cooper thought it all sounded like a load of horse shit, but he sighed and went along with it. He didn't have the will to fight against it right now, not when it still felt he was trying to wake up from the longest nap in his life. So, he waited at the back of the line of other vault dwellers for the massive cog door to spin open so that he could meet his new wife.
He doesn't pay much attention to what his overseer is saying. His gaze has already been caught by the dark-haired beauty that stands just behind Vault 33's overseer. She's pale with big brown eyes and in a classic wedding dress and cute white heels. He watches her rock back and forth on them, a nervous blush painting her cheeks pink.
"So um. Who am I marrying?" She blurts at some point, and Cooper already feels endearment curl in his chest. She was adorable.
He takes that as his cue to step out into the light, a friendly smile on his face as he stands before Lucy. He isn't expecting the young woman's face to explode in a blush, her eyes going wide and a hand slapping over her mouth as if she can't believe what she's seeing. Cooper raises a brow, confused, and looks down to see if he's got something on his suit.
"You didn't tell me I'd be marrying Cooper Howard, Dad," Lucy hisses, tone dripping in accusation.
*notes* just something short and cute I couldn't stop thinking about. They'll be another part eventually 😄*
#cooper howard#fallout#fallout prime#fallout tv series#lucy maclean#ghoulcy#cooper howard x lucy maclean#cooper x lucy
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Spread, Auntie, Spread
CHAPTER ONE
Lori Holmes was very excited.
It had been a surprise when her sister had called her just the day before, asking if she could leave her son and daughter with her for a week. The notice had been short, but Lori was quick to agree.
This is a dream came true, Lori thought.
She had allowed the young boy and his sister to stay with her last summer, and those few days together still caused her cunt to twitch with pleasure even though they had not fucked then.
Lori was in her mid-twenties, unmarried, but had enjoyed the company of a man two years older than her. She had no desire for marriage but craved sex. She liked Marty well enough, but she wasn't in love with him and no way would she marry the man. He was tall, good looking, and had a beautiful cock -- a nice, thick, very long cock. That was all that was important to Lori, his cock... or any cock. Marty knew this and accepted it. Lori was a fantastic fuck, uninhibited, and more than willing to do anything to feed that burning desire within her tall, slender body.
Lori was a beautiful young woman. She attracted men more than the average woman. Yet she didn't really enjoy that much of a variety. She was selective in her men, very selective. In the past ten years, she probably had not fucked more than ten men. But one thing she knew, those ten men had enjoyed the time of their lives while with her. All of them had gone away happy, well-satisfied, knowing they would search for a long time before finding another girl with such hungry sexual desire.
With her chestnut hair and blazing blue eyes, her thin, small nose and wide mouth with moist lips, with her slender neck and straining tits, tits that were almost, but not quite, pointed, she was a true classic beauty.
At the moment she had just come out of the bathroom, her gorgeous body wrapped in a huge, soft towel. Marty was still on the bed, smoking, almost exhausted from the wild, frenzied fucking she had just given him. He sprawled with his head on a pillow, looking at her.
Lori gave him a wicked wink as she stood before the mirror, shaking out her long hair with her fingers. The reflection of her was in his view, and he watched her shapely tits rise with her hands. The towel, short enough to begin with, lifted just past the sweet curves of her swelling ass. Lori stood with hr legs slightly apart, and Marty saw the long curls of her cunt between them.
Lori's thighs and legs were long, very long, smooth as they could be, creamy in color and texture. Her hips were not large, but fit her body perfectly. Her waist, he knew, could be spanned by his two hands.
Looking at her ass, he remembered how, just a few minutes ago, she had been twirling it wildly, sending thrill after thrill throughout his overheated body. His cock tingled from the tight heat of her gripping cunt, and there was a small pleasant ache in his balls. He grinned to himself and ran a hand down to caress his balls gently.
She saw him in the mirror, flashing a lewd smile as she saw him cradle his balls tenderly. The nipples of her tits were still firm, very long and a dark-pink color. Lori knew what his balls felt like. She was very much aware of her skills, of the ability her cunt had of nibbling and sucking on a cock that was fucking deeply.
Teasingly, she allowed the towel to slip from her body, the cheeks of her delightful ass bunching for his pleasure. In the mirror, she saw the stirring of his cock, and she licked a pink, wet tongue over her full lips.
Leaning over the dresser, she arched her ass out in his direction, her asscheeks parting slightly. The fuzz of her pussy became more pronounced and his eyes showed renewed interest. Lori was pleased by his reaction. It always pleased her when she could make a man's cock hard so soon after fucking him wildly. She made her ass shake invitingly as she watched his cock in the mirror. She licked her lips again as his prick swelled into throbbing hardness. Then she turned to face Marty.
She leaned on the dresser, her shoulders back and her flawlessly shaped tits thrusting out and up, the nipples hard. She smiled wantonly at him as she spread her feet and arched her hips in his direction. Her thick triangle of dint hair almost, but not quite, concealed the moist pinkness of her pussy lips. Lori slowly twisted her hips in a tight circle as she gazed body at him.
"See anything you like?" she murmured in a low, throaty voice.
"I like everything," he groaned as his cock throbbed in his fist.
Lori's eyes smoldered with her bubbling inner heat as she gazed hungrily at his unusually long thick prick. "I wish we had more time, Marty," she said, her voice not changing. "Oh God... I'd love to fuck that hard-on again, but my niece and nephew will be here in half an hour. We just don't have time."
She turned back to the mirror, applying a faint coat of lipstick to her moist lips. Marty watched as she pursed her lips, and remembered how they could devour a hard cock greedily. The remembrance caused his prick to throb powerfully, dripping from the piss hole. He lowered his eyes to her enticing ass, looking at her creamy smooth asscheeks, her inviting thighs.
He swung his legs over the edge of her bed and stood up, his cock thrusting outward from the mass of dark hair at the base. Lori looked at his prick in the mirror, jutting her beautiful ass back again in a teasing manner.
Marty came to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his cock between her thighs. Lori felt his prick between them, and she squeezed her thighs together. She loved the way his cock throbbed against the burning lips of her cunt, the hardness of his prick, the strange way his cock looked as the swollen prickhead poked past the luxurious growth of her cunt hair, giving her the appearance of having a short cock growing there.
"Oh, God!" she mewled as Marty began to fuck his cock back and forth, sliding the hardness of his prick between her hotly pressing thighs, rubbing his cock along her twitching cunt. "Ohhhh, you know I love it, Marty! Damn you, you know I can't resist that cock!"
Lori shoved her ass back and braced herself with her elbows on the dresser, gazing into the mirror at him. Her tits, although dangling, still maintained their firm shape.
"Put it in me, Marty!" she screamed in a thick voice. "Fuck me! Fuck me fast!"
Marty drew his cock from between her thighs, and looking down, ran his swollen prickhead about her asscheeks. Lori felt the burning moisture on her flesh and shoved her ass against him. "Fuck me, damn you! We don't have much time! Stop playing around, Marty! Stick that cock in my cunt and fuck me -- now!"
Her body was still damp from the shower, and the beads of water on her flesh increased his excitement. He placed the head of his swollen cock against the pulsating wetness of her pussy and shoved.
"Ooooo!" Lori moaned with pleasure as his cock went into her cunt. "Ooooo, yes, Marty!"
She felt his prick go deep, stretching her sensitive cunt lips deliciously. She loved the deep throbbing of his cock, the way that enormous prickhead seemed to stuff every bit of her pussy. Her eyes became glassy with passion as his fingers dug into her hips, his cock fucking in and out of her clinging cunt. As soon as his prick had entered her cunt, Lori began to feel an orgasm swelling inside the pit of her stomach. It was always that way... Lori usually came as soon as a cock penetrated her cunt, then she would build up slowly to a powerful explosive orgasm when the man gushed his come juice into her. Lori seldom failed to come at least twice when she was fucked.
"Ohhhh, ram that cock to me!" she moaned in a thick voice, shaking her naked ass, twisting as he fucked in and out. "Oh, God! Oh, God... I can't get enough of that hard cock! Fuck me, Marty! Oooo, fuck me!"
Her eyes, glazed with the pleasure rumbling through her body, tried to see his expression in the mirror, but her vision was blurred. She was turned just far enough so she could see her hips dancing lewdly as his cock fucked in and out of her blazing cunt. She loved the feel of his lower stomach slapping upon her naked asscheeks as Marty fucked relentlessly into her quivering cunt. Her shapely tits jiggled with the power of his thrusts, her nipples brushing the surface of the dresser. Her pussy tightened around his cock as he pulled back and seemed to relax as his prick went in deep.
This was something her cunt did of its own volition, something that Lori had nothing consciously to do with. She was aware of this ability, and she accepted it because it created such intense pleasure for not only her, but whatever cock was fucking her. Some man, somewhere, sometime, had said her cunt was a mouth-sucking cunt, that it felt like he was getting a blow job at the same time he fucked her.
"Harder, Marty!" she whimpered as her ass twisted furiously. "Ohhh, please, fuck me... harder!"
His fingers gripped her writhing hips and he banged furiously against her asscheeks, his cock going all the way into her burning, wet cunt. He grit his teeth as the pleasure burned through his body, centered at his cock and balls like a roaring fire.
Lori was gurgling hotly, her eyes half closed, savoring the deliciousness of his cock fucking into her tight, wet cunt. The way his prick throbbed between her stretched cunt lips sent her mind reeling with the erotic sensations she loved so much. Her cunt was so sensitive that she could feel each groove and ridge of his hard prick, feel when his cock throbbed. Her clit had become a swollen, hard knot of tingling pleasure as he fucked her. Her tits and nipples ached, and her ass shivered with delicious goose bumps that flowed about her creamy flesh. The nerves of her succulent body were tingling with so much pleasure that Lori could hardly stand it. Fucking was always that way, and she loved it.
She felt him speed up the thrusting of his cock, and she writhed her upturned ass tightly. Her orgasm was on the surface now, threatening to blow apart. The heat inside her cunt was becoming unbearable, and the only cure was a mind-shattering orgasm.
"Oooo, hurry!" she screamed at him. "Hurry and come in my cunt! I'm about to... about to... ohhh, there! I'm coming, Marty! Oh, God... I'm coming!"
Lori's cunt convulsed in ecstasy. Her pussy squeezed in reflexive waves at his fucking cock, drawing at his prick with hot velvety walls. Her naked body shuddered as though she were having a seizure of some kind. A loud wail of ecstasy came out of her throat as she threw her head back, eyes tightly closed, her mouth wide open.
She felt his cock as it began to spurt. Again she screamed, feeling thick come, juice gush into her pussy, splashing about the hot walls of her cunt. Her pussy closed about his prick, sucking and nibbling as they both came.
Marty withdrew his cock tiredly from her gripping cunt, slumping down on the floor, sitting on his heels as he gasped heavily. Lori remained where she had been, leaning on the dresser, still glowing from the power of her orgasm. She panted, her tits jiggling.
She felt Marty's lips against her asscheek, and sighed happily. She loved it when her ass was kissed and licked. She loved it when a moist, eager tongue lapped up and down her thighs. Lori loved to use her tongue on a man, too, licking and tasting his legs, his ass, his cock and balls. She was very oral and loved to have a hard, throbbing cock between her lips.
"Mmmmm," she murmured lazily as Marty kissed the cheeks of her ass. "Lovely, Marty. I love to have my ass kissed. Oooo, you're wonderful!"
Marty's tongue raced about the swell of one asscheek, then down the back of one trembling thigh. Lori arched her ass back, twisting and trying to get his tongue between her thighs. She gave a soft squeal of delight as his tongue scraped over the sensitive lips of her cunt. Then she jerked her ass away from him.
"Oh, my God! Look at the time!" she yelped. "They'll be here in five minutes! Damn you, Marty!"
He chuckled as he stood up. "Why damn me, baby? You wanted to fuck as much as I did."
She turned and smiled at him. "I know," she said, caressing his cheek. "I'm just nervous, that's all. I haven't seen Stevie and Janice for over six months. You know how much I care for them."
"I wish they weren't going to be here so damn long," Marty complained. "I can't do without a piece of your hot ass for a fucking week, Lori."
"We'll be careful," she said, kissing him quickly. "They won't be any trouble, don't worry."
Promptly at three o'clock, the doorbell rang. Lori silently cursed her sister for always being so prompt. She drew a loose robe on and, looking to make sure Marty was dressed, left her bedroom with him to answer the door.
"I'm sorry about the last-minute notice," her sister said when Lori ushered them into the living room. "But Bob has to fly out this evening. Are you sure these kids won't be any trouble for a week, Lori?"
"Of course not," Lori said. "I love to have them with me. You go and enjoy yourself and don't worry about these two monkeys. I have a nice big paddle if they get out of hand."
Stevie and Janice giggled, knowing their Aunt Lori was teasing. They loved her and loved being with her. Lori was almost a kid herself, being ten years younger than her sister. She didn't treat them like little kids. She let them drink coffee and stay up late. She was fun to be with.
Lori saw her sister looking at Marty. "Oh, this is Marty Horn. We were talking about his new play he just finished."
"Are you in the theater, Mr. Horn?" Lori's sister asked.
"Not yet." Marty smiled. "I'm still trying, that's all. Lori is a big help with her suggestions."
"He was just leaving," Lori said, knowing her sister could be a suspicious bitch. "I'll look your script over more carefully, Marty, and give you a call."
"You do that," he said, then left.
Stevie and Janice had already gone into the kitchen, searching for the goodies that Lori always seemed to have at her house.
Her sister quickly left, trying to give instructions about her children's bedtime and other silly things. "I know all that," Lori said. "Go on and have fun. We'll get along just fine."
She closed the door after her sister had gone, leaning against it. My sister can be a pain sometimes, she thought. So prim and moralistic, always giving advice no one wanted or took. She was forever forcing her moral attitudes on others.
Going toward the kitchen, Lori smiled to herself, pleased to have Stevie and Janice with her for a whole week. She didn't like the attitudes their mother was drilling in those young minds, making them ashamed of their bodies and sex. She wished she could teach them the real joy and happiness of living.
She stepped into the kitchen, then stopped, eyes wide.
Stevie was in the refrigerator, concealed by the door, seeking out the goodies. But it was Janice that Lori had seen.
The beautiful little girl was on her hands and knees, her head inside the cupboards. Her short skirt had hiked up in back, and Lori found herself gazing at the sweet thighs and tightly pantied ass of her niece. The view sent a sudden, unexpected thrill racing through her veins, and her cunt began to pulsate with that feeling of hunger again.
Janice was wearing pink panties, and they were very tight. The unusual thing about her panties was the sheerness of them. Lori could not recall ever seeing Janice wearing any kind of panties but little-girl cotton ones. Now she could easily see the crack between Janice's small asscheeks.
Lori wondered about this. She was certain her sister, Karen, would not allow Janice to wear such revealing panties.
Janice pulled her head from the cupboard and twisted to look over her shoulder. She saw her aunt looking at her, and she giggled.
The sound, to Lori, of that giggle, was almost lewd. Janice's eyes were gleaming in a strange way, and Lori felt a sexuality radiate from the pretty little girl. Her cunt throbbed, and she wondered why she felt so drawn toward Janice, drawn toward her lovely little body. Girls had never turned her on, but at this moment she was feeling a wild, almost irresistible desire to feel her niece up.
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Hazbin Hotel Headcanons bc I'm obsessed xoxo
(Some NSFW is implied/mentioned)
-Husk was there when alastor sold his soul to whomever it was
- He also has no trust is alastor whatsoever like he's terrified of him but he also wouldn't trust him for his life (literally)
- Angel has PTSD
- But he doesn't realise he has it, bc he represses feelings and everything
- Charlie and Angel have a sibling dynamic
- They're pain in the asses for vaggie and husk
- Charlie reminds angel of his sister molly
- He also doesn't really like to celebrate his birthday bc it's not the same without her (unless he's shit-faced drunk and won't remember)
- Vox will make his screen brighter or flicker to get and hold val's attention
- Angel is Husk's lucky charm in gambling moments
- Angel genuinely did love val in the beginning and thought val loved him too
- Whilst Alastor truly does believe that a smile is a both a way to control the situation and hide one's true intentions, his smile is stitched on and he physically cannot remove the stitches as it's part of his deal
- Alastor is colourblind in the same way deer are
- Angel knows what they said about him in Angel court and he plays it off but it really upset him
- Alastor was a serial killer in his life
- He was never caught though
- Alastor plays static when actively trying to ignore someone
- He also plays music for the hotel to dance too, finding that he and Angel enjoyed the same music (bc of the similar time period)
- Husk once got alastor drunk enough to dance with Charlie and taught her how to Charleston dance
- Nifty is like everyone's child. You cannot mess with her
- Nifty will bring bugs to the person she likes most that day (usually alastor)
- Vaggie has threatened angel's life on many occasions
- Those two argue constantly (it's friendly tho)
- Charlie spends a lot of her time breaking up little spats in the hotel
- Charlie has nightmares about the time she saw alastors true demon form
- It made her feel super bad for him too, and she's offered to cut the stitches on his mouth but he refuses
- Lucifer is trying to be a better dad
- It's hard but he is actively trying
- He likes to hand out rubber ducks he's made/painted when people are upset
- Angel has a lot of them, bc he frequently seems to catch Lucifer when he's returning from work
- Lucifer is autistic for sure
- And his ducks are his special interest
- Lowkey he's also smitten by fat nuggets when he meets him
- So much so that when angel is at work lucifer happily offers to feed and look after the lil guy
- Fat nuggets once ate off of alastors plate, and that's the only time it ever happened bc by fucking god did alastor go crazy
- He didn't hurt fat nuggets tho it's okay, he wanted to but angel was like ILL DIE AGAIN BITCH TRY ME MOTHERFUCKER and pulled out some guns
- Angel gives Alastor the tea of what's going down with the Vee's when he gets it
- Mainly bc he hates the Vee's as much as Alastor and also bc Alastor asked him too and he's kinda scared of him
- And also bc it's fucking easy bc Val is a dumb bitch who doesn't know how to be subtle if he tried, Vox thinks so little of Angel that he thinks Angel would be too focused on the sex and Velvette doesn't care much for Angel either
- That's not to say that the Vee's haven't tried to get Angel to be their spy on the inside too, it's just Angel is like nothing to report also I gotta work sorry and just lies to them
- A wannabe patron once was rude to Charlie and lucifer decked them
- Everyone was amazed he had it in him to do it like that bc damn mans was pissed
- Let's just say nobody is rude to Charlie anymore just in case
- Also Charlie is also fucking terrifying when she wants/needs to be
- Someone called Angel a whore and tried to touch him and she went off
- Lucifer had to hold her back
- Fuck with her friends and she will kill you 😊
- Charlie cries at everything (good or bad)
- Vaggie is a real trooper putting up with it
- Angel was like "would you be like that with me if I cried all the time?" To husk, and husk with no hesitation said "fuck no"
- Husk treats Angel like a princess in the streets but a slut in the sheets
- They've deffo fucked behind the bar
- Charlie and Rosie keep in touch
- They have tea parties with Alastor
- Val is scared of Niffty bc she's unpredictable and bc he's not over what happened in the club
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel Headcanons#hazbin headcanons#charlie morningstar#vaggie#angel dust#hazbin hotel husk#huskerdust#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#valentino hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#niffty hazbin hotel#fat nuggets hazbin hotel#rosie hazbin hotel
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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: john egan x gale cleven.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the last place that john egan wants to be the summer before he graduates high school is the egan family cottage, a place where time and everyone else seems to have forgotten. having been intent on finding a summer job, spending time with his friends, going to parties, and making out with pretty girls, john is irked that the egan family matriarch has other ideas and wants the family to spend "one last" summer together.
john's sour mood shifts just a little when he meets local, but also not-so-local, gale cleven, a boy his age who works at the small town's one pizza joint. through teenage angst and a desire to break free of the awkward position of not being children anymore but not yet men, the two form a bond that makes their summer a little more bearable. a bond that comes to shock the both of them.
but what happens when more than the summer comes to an end?
𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: teen, though later chapters might have a slightly higher rating.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.2k
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: YEAH FIRST MASTERS OF THE AIR FIC. thank you to everyone who reblogged the mood board and expressed interest in the story. special thanks to @wildbornsiren for being my ride or die and @swifty-fox for letting me share snippets and bouncing ideas off of you.
likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! 💚
» mood board.
» read on ao3.
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈.
Summer 1986
Somewhere in Wisconsin
“Johnny!”
Evidently, John Egan had ignored the shouts from his mother to come inside for the last time. Her voice turned into something shrill that he could hear even down by the lake, where he could normally escape all manner of ruckus that came from the cottage. It wasn’t that noisy, he supposed. But it was difficult to get a moment of peace and quiet when his whole family - his ma and dad, his sister, and himself - were all crammed into the small two bedroom space.
When they were kids, John and his sister, Billie, would bunk together in one room, at first sharing the one bed, John then eventually sleeping on the floor when he “got too long,” as his dad put it. But when one is suddenly seventeen, and the other is fourteen, bunking together isn’t on the table anymore, no matter what Ma said. John would just as soon take the couch, which he was too long to fit on comfortably anymore, in the living room, or grab a tent and camp out under the stars if the weather was nice enough.
“Johnny Egan!”
The last name had been included, it was getting serious.
John pushed himself up with a soft grunt, hands instinctively wiping grass and dirt from the ass of his shorts. He reached over to pick up the battered copy of ‘Salem’s Lot and the empty bottle of Coke that he’d brought down to the edge of the lake with him, cramming the book in his back pocket, and holding the empty bottle between his long fingers.
He didn’t know what all the fuss was about, having dinner at the same time every night. It was summer, no one else seemed to be on a set schedule. Kids, teens, and adults ran wild in cottage country. At least that had been the way. Once upon a time, he and Billie had been allowed to miss dinners and stay out past their bedtimes. Yet somehow, as they got older, Ma and Dad were trying to tighten the reins. Ma had tearfully mentioned that it might be the last time they all got down to the lake together for the summer, as if one of them were fuckin’ dying or something.
John tramped through the brush and tall grass to get to the path that would lead him back to the small cluster of cottages on the the top of the hill. There had been four that had always been there, as long as he could remember, situated around the lake. They went back generations, passed down through handshakes and wills, little more than a handful of rooms for families to sleep, eat, and unwind after a day in the sun.
But over the past few years things further up the road were beginning to be developed, real proper like, and it was only a matter of time before it reached the older cottages down by the lake. John had ridden his bike past them shortly after they’d arrived a week ago; they looked almost as nice as the house that they lived in ten months out of the year back in Manitowoc. John had heard the stories about how the Egan Family Cottage had come to be, put together by his grandfather and a few friends over the course of the summer in 1945, a product of coming home from the war, too much time on their hands, and a lot of packs of cigarettes and beer.
“Jo -”
“I’m comin’ Ma!”
When he was a kid it seemed like a much greater distance between the cottage and the lake, and now he realized that they were within spitting distance of one another. He’d taken up less space then.
John crested over the small hill at the top of the path, the cottages in full or partial view now. Theirs was on the far right, and despite its location amongst the small cluster, had been the center of his universe, and the universe of all the other kids, summer friends, that spent summers there, for as long as he could remember. But the Miller kids were both off to college the last couple of years, and Amos Cook had passed away early that spring, and his widow couldn’t bear to come down and bring their grandkids with her.
Suddenly, at seventeen years of age, John felt too young and too old all at once.
—
“Lucia’s dad said he would drive us to the mall the next town over tonight. If that’s okay? Ma? It closes at eight.”
John pushed the remnants of dinner around his plate with the prongs of his fork, desperately wanting to be set free from the small dinner table shoved into a corner of an equally small kitchen, to go and find somewhere to finish his book. He only had a couple of chapters left before he was finished, and he really wanted an excuse to take his bike (or the truck if Dad was in a good mood) into town the next day, go to the library, maybe spend some time at the pizza place that had Galaga and Time Pilot arcade cabinets, see a pretty girl. Any girl, really. He was beginning to think his summer would’ve been better spent in Manitowoc. At least then maybe he stood a chance of feeling up something pretty in the back seat at the drive-in.
“Who’s Lucia?” John Egan the Elder asked, reaching over and opening the fridge door. The perks of the small kitchen and its small dinner table meant that the fridge was often within reach. Egan Senior pulled out a beer and held it up, looking at John with raised eyebrows. John nodded, and his dad pulled another one out. He popped the caps off of both and then handed one to his son.
“A new friend,” Billie replied after a sip of water. “Her parents have one of the cottages up the road. I met her today. She’s really nice. Ma, you’d like her.”
“Oh, Billie. Why would you want to go to the mall on a night like this?” Ma Egan asked, dabbing her lips with a napkin.
Dinner had been steaks and vegetables that Dad had cooked on the barbeque. It dawned on John that in the summer that his dad did most of the cooking on the grill, which meant Ma got a break from cooking. Perhaps that was why she had been so eager to come down to the cottage every year.
“Oh let her go, Ma,” John Sr. said, then taking a sip from his bottle of beer. “She’s met a new friend and wants to go to the mall. Ain’t no danger in it. So long as she doesn’t spend her entire allowance.”
John swore his Ma still believed that they were children who needed coddling and protection from the world. He had his own feelings about his sister getting older - for one thing, she was infinitely more annoying than he had ever remembered her being - but Billie didn’t need Ma looming over her shoulder at all times.
“Well, who will John spend time with if she’s gone?” Ma asked John Sr., as if neither Billie or John will be present.
“He’s seventeen, he doesn’t want to spend summer nights with his kid sister.” Again, they may as well have not been there. “Am I right, John?”
John inhaled, waiting for a moment of quiet in which he could reply in, before Ma was filling the void. “Oh, all right. Is Lucia’s dad going to pick you up from the mall?”
Billie brightened. “Yes. Eight o’clock on the dot, he said.”
“Then I suppose it’s all right. But I want you home no later than eight thirty.”
“May I be excused?” John asked, looking between his parents.
“Of course,” Ma replied, before immediately turning back to Billie to go over the five new rules she’d just concocted for going to the mall with Lucia.
John cleared his plate, grabbed his beer, his book from off the table by the back door, and made his way back down to his spot at the lake. He still had a couple of hours of daylight left, and even after he finished his book (he was a fast reader) there would be plenty of time for him to just lay by the lake, sipping the remnants of his beer, and enjoying the sounds of the crickets and the lake.
—
Back in Manitowoc, the library had a couple of girls John’s age who worked there part time. While he did enjoy going there to check out something new, he also enjoyed leaning over the counter, smiling with all of his teeth, and asking what their favourite books were. He also enjoyed watching them duck their heads and giggle, and on occasion following them to the very back stacks where their favourite books were not at all located and putting his hands under their skirts while they tried to stifle their moans against his shoulder.
In the town library down at the cottage it was small enough to be staffed by one woman, and that woman was old enough to be his grandmother. John wasn’t opposed necessarily … she just wasn’t his type.
His solitary errand completed for the day (he picked a couple more Stephen King books), John glanced at his watch. It was only ten in the morning.
Letting out a huff, he leaned against the brick exterior of the library and looked up and down the one street the town possessed. So many shops weren’t even opened yet, their proprietors moving as lazily as the out of towners who took over in the summer. John didn’t know much about business or economics (despite Dad’s best efforts), but thought that opening earlier would be more profitable.
Or maybe it wouldn’t. He was just bored out of his skull.
They had six more weeks there.
Books placed in the milk crate at the back, John mounted his bike and began lazily cycling down the street back toward the direction of the cottage, passing by the pizza place. It was open, and John spotted a couple of kids Billie’s age playing Galaga. It felt far too early for a slice, but John wasn’t quite ready to go back to the cottage and get through another book in a day.
Parking his bike outside, John then opened the door to Rush Hour Pizza. What passed for rush hour in this place he would very much like to see. The boys were playing Galaga, one shouting very unhelpful directions at the other, but aside from that the shop was empty, save for the thin blond working behind the counter, her back turned to the entrance. He leaned over the counter, one hand pressed against the linoleum and set his voice to purr.
“Hey pretty thing.”
The blond turned around, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, blue eyes wide.
Fuck.
“Um.”
“Yeah,” the boy around John’s age supplied, tucking a piece of his long blond hair behind his ear. “My dad’s been saying I should get a haircut.”
He was slender, but not so slender that John should’ve been mistaking him for a girl. John was scarlett with shame, but tried not to let it show, instead just clearing his throat and looking down at the counter for a moment to get his bearings.
“What can I get for ya?” the boy asked.
“Uh,” John replied, finally glancing up. Okay, so he may have been a boy but he was still extremely pretty in a masculine sense. Was that a thing that men were? John had never thought a boy was pretty before. He’d looked at men with curiosity, but never -
“You okay, man?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” John replied. “Can I, uh, get a slice?”
“This early?”
John looked at the boy across the counter incredulously. “It’s … a pizza place. You sell pizza. You’re open.”
“Yeah, but … it’s ten in the morning.”
“Then what …” John trailed off, gesturing to the boys playing Galaga.
The blond boy leaned over the counter, looking at the two younger boys shoving quarters into the arcade cabinet, and then looking back at John. “They’re playing Galaga.”
“I see that they’re playing Galaga. But isn’t this the sort of place where you, I dunno, have to buy something in order to use … the facilities?”
The boy chuckled and John kind of hated him. He stole a glance at the nametag pinned to the boy’s apron - GALE - and then lifted his gaze to his face once more.
“When my dad is here, probably. But I dunno, it’s summer and this place is boring. I don’t care. If they wanna feed quarters into the machines they can go for it. We get their money regardless. At least, that’s what my dad would say. They bought some Cokes about an hour ago,” Gale said. “Pizza’s not even ready yet.”
John blinked. “Then why are you open?”
“Galaga,” Gale replied, pointing at the boys and the arcade cabinet once more. “I was here making the pizzas anyway.”
“So when you asked what you could get me, it was limited to beverages,” John said, letting out a sigh.
“There’s a menu,” Gale said, pointing to the large board above his head. “I can make you a sandwich. Or a sub.”
For the first time, John picks up on Gale’s accent, and cocks his head. “Not from around here, are you?”
“No sir,” Gale replied, leaning against the counter. “Born in South Dakota, grew up in Wyoming.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here?” John asked. Gale opened his mouth to speak and John interrupted him. “If you say ‘Galaga’ one more time -”
Gale laughed, something big and bright, showing all of his perfect fuckin’ teeth. It stretched up to the corners of his eyes and made his nose scrunch up, and John’s face felt strangely warm again. “Change of scenery. Dad got tired of Wyoming.” He tilted his head at John. “You’re not from here either.”
“Well, I’m from Manitowoc. My family summers here.”
“Summers. Fancy,” Gale said a little teasingly, straightening back up. It was far from fancy, but John didn’t correct him. “Can I make you a sandwich or what?”
John reached into his pockets and pulled out his wallet, rifling through his cash. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Cold cut sub sounds great. Not gonna get on my ass about it being too early for lunch?”
“I would never,” Gale replied with a slow smile.
—
“You were gone long,” Ma said the moment that John walked in through the back door of the cottage, a stack of books under his arm.
John rolled his eyes and placed the books down on one of the side tables next to the couch, which had been serving at his nightstand. “Ma, please.”
“Well, I’m just sayin’ is all,” Ma Egan said defensively, looking up from washing dishes in the kitchen. “Said you were going to the library. Figured you’d be there and back in half an hour or so.”
With an exasperated sigh, John flopped down onto the couch. He wasn’t certain if he could bear even just another day of his mother being overbearing. “Ma, we’re on vacation. I’m almost an adult -” Ma snorted, and John ignored her. “- can you stop hasslin’ me about being a bit longer in town? It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”
“Now John Egan, I’ve had just about enough of your complaining,” Ma said with a sigh, tossing her washcloth into the sink.
John sat up a little straighter, hands stretched out in front of him, eyebrows raised in confusion. “I haven’t complained once since we got here.”
“Oh yes you have,” Ma Egan said. “Maybe not in so many words, but you’ve been throwing yourself around like a rag doll since you set foot inside this place. Mopin’ about, spendin’ all of your time down at the lake.”
“There’s nothing for me to do here,” John said, and he sounded much whinier than he had meant to. Definitely not an adult.
“Like hell there ain’t,” Ma Egan said, hands on her hips. “Your sister has been makin’ friends up the road, and don’t tell her I ever said it, but you’re far more personable than she is.”
“Ma,” John began, his voice firm and level. “Billie is a kid. There are other kids around. I, your son who is a completely different person, am not a kid. There’s no one my age around here. They’re probably all working jobs. Which is what I wanted to do this summer back home, but you and dad insisted that we all come here. So forgive me for feeling a little bit put out that I’m spending my summer vacation with nothing to do, when I wanted to get a job, make some money for school, and spend time with my friends.”
“And get up to no good,” Ma Egan said quickly.
“Ma -”
“Those boys you pal around with aren’t exactly model citizens.”
“Neither am I,” John muttered, really wishing he had thought to buy a pack of cigarettes while he was in town. He hadn’t thought he would need to take the edge off there, but it was becoming apparent that he would.
“Not if you keep aligning yourself with that lot,” Ma Egan said, stepping into the small living room, cluttered with John’s belongings. “Look, the reason why your father and I insisted that we all come here this summer is that it’ll probably be the last time we all get the chance to.”
“Ain’t no one dyin’, Ma!”
Sighing, Ma sat down next to John on the couch. “John, it ain’t about that. You and your sister are getting older, you’re not going to want to come down here anymore with the whole family. Hell, you already didn’t want to. But next summer you’ll be off to college, or getting a job somewhere, and you won’t be able to make it down. And your father and I aren’t gettin’ any younger.” She paused and reached over, taking one of John’s hands. “Our lives are all going to change one way or another in the coming years, and ain’t nothin’ guaranteed. But we could have this one last time. Some time together. I’m sorry that we dragged you here. But I ain’t sorry that you’re here. You understand me?”
John glanced over at his mother, letting out a small sigh of his own. He loved his family, he did. But he was filled with that sort of unbridled rage that all teenagers feel when they’re on the cusp of adulthood. Even if he couldn’t identify it, quantify it, it was there. He did an excellent job of keeping it to himself for the most part, unless his mother drew it out of him, like she was doing then and there.
He didn’t quite understand her insistence that they all be together at the cottage when they could’ve been together back home. But, agreeing with her in the past had sometimes been a better option than arguing with her, and John couldn’t bear to break her heart with his own teenage angst anymore.
“Yeah, Ma. I understand.”
—
That afternoon, John had found his father, who was working on a truck for one of the newer neighbours up the road. Turns out it had been Billie’s new friend’s father. Billie and Lucia were inside, enjoying some air conditioning and listening to New Kids on the Block, while their two dads stood over the open front hood of the blue Dodge Ram, each holding a beer in their hand. John the Younger managed to lend a hand, which seemed to please his father, who really wanted his son to one day take up the mantle of the family business back home.
John was still undecided if he wanted to be a mechanic or not. In fact, he was still undecided on what he wanted to be at all.
As a thank you, Lucia’s dad suggested they get pizza. John was about to take his leave when Lucia insisted that he stay. John didn’t miss the way that Lucia looked at him, and couldn’t find it in himself to break the girl’s heart, so he agreed. Billie looked equal parts shocked and disgusted, and he later heard her say, “My brother? Seriously? Ew.”
“He’s got a moustache, Billie.”
“Not a good one.”
John was glad he was out of sight, if not out of earshot, rubbing at the hair above his lip absentmindedly. The moustache was a work in progress. He thought it looked just fine. And Deborah Jensen back home in Manitowoc had seemed to be quite fond of it as well.
Lucia’s dad gave him the keys to the newly fixed truck to go pick up the pizzas, and John Sr. reminded him to be on his best behaviour with a truck that wasn’t theirs. John fought the urge to roll his eyes, wanting to be a good guest, and after taking his time to ensure that the mirrors were properly adjusted, hands at ten and two (he knew his dad was watching), John drove ten under the speed limit until he was out of sight.
—
John pulled up to Rush Hour Pizza with a groan, not really in the mood for Gale. He didn’t know why, they’d gotten on well enough that morning. Gale was clearly bored to tears waiting for the pizzas to come out of the oven, so he’d chatted with John from across the restaurant while he ate his sub (it had been really fuckin’ good).
When the bell above the door chimed, Gale popped up seemingly out of nowhere, looking a little bewildered to see John again. “Couldn’t get enough of me?” he asked.
“Very funny,” John said, looking around. The arcade cabinets were abandoned. He supposed it was dinner time, all the neighbourhood kids were probably at home. “I’m just here to pick up a couple of pizzas. My dad’s friend ordered them.”
“Oh yeah. Of course,” Gale said, hands braced against the counter. He paused. “What’s the name?”
John blinked at Gale. “I don’t fuckin’ know.”
“You don’t know your dad’s friend’s name?”
“... Lucia’s Dad?”
Gale chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t say I recall taking that order, man.”
John sighed, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Well. Are there any orders here?”
“Yeah, a few.” A beat of silence passed between them. “Do you know what he ordered?”
“Pizzas.”
Gale smiled, cocking an eyebrow and folding his arms across his chest. “How in the hell do y’all get by in Manitowoc?”
“I’m beginning to wonder that myself.”
Still smiling, Gale pulled some receipts from a small pile to his right. “Here. We’ll go through them both together. You tell me if any of the names or orders ring any bells.”
“Doesn’t this violate pizza-client privilege or something?” John asked, leaning over the counter slightly to look at the order slips with Gale.
“That’s not a thing.”
Apparently, all twelve people in town had ordered pizzas for pick up that evening. As Gale rattled off names and orders, John realized that the pizza boy didn’t even know his name. It seemed very unfair that he knew Gale’s.
“I’m John,” he said, interrupting Gale mid-sentence.
Gale glanced up at John, blinking slowly. “Well, all right. Hello John. I’m Gale.”
“I know. You have a nametag.”
Gale glanced down at his chest and smiled. “So I do. Forgot I had that on. Okay, where were we? Carlos -”
“That’s it! What’s his last name?” John interrupted excitedly.
“I was gonna get to that, y’know,” Gale said, looking up at John and smiling. “Navarro.”
“That’s the one!” John said, taking the slip from Gale and looking at the order. “One pepperoni, one meat lovers, and one vegetarian.”
“Coming right up,” Gale said, heading toward the back as John pulled cash out of his wallet.
While John waited for Gale to come back with the pizzas, he craned his neck to look into the kitchen. “Do you work here alone?” he called out.
He heard Gale laugh. “Why? Comin’ back to kill me tomorrow night?” he replied, still hidden in the back.
“Not my style,” John replied. “Just … you’re the only pizza place in town it seems, and it’s just you here. Seems like a lot of work.”
Gale returns to the counter with three boxes of pizzas, setting them down and then taking the cash from John. “I like to keep busy. My dad comes in during the rushes, but once the pizzas are actually in the oven the rest is just … transactions. Making sandwiches and stuff like that.”
“Right,” John said, watching Gale as he rang up his order and handed John back the change. John tossed some into the tip jar. He picked up the pizzas and nodded a thanks to Gale, who nodded one back and tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear. John was halfway to the door, before he stopped and turned around. “Gale, what the fuck do people like you and me do around here for fun?”
…
#masters of the air#mota#masters of the air fan fiction#mota fanfic#john bucky egan#gale buck cleven#clegan#bucky x buck#buck x bucky#john egan x gale cleven#1980s summer au#antiquitea.fic
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im in LITTERAL obito hell. Can i please get hcs for obito w total sub fem s/o. God, i really need therapy bc how much i need a man like him 😭
Nonny,
We all are in Obito hell, especially when he's balls deep slapping your ass to the rhythm of your moaning.
Obito is a weird mix of a sub/dom himself, he’s going to need to be shown the ropes, idk why but he's aggressive in a tender way. 🙈🙊😇
NSFW; both y'all getting fucked stupid; there is no way around it; Obito likes to be owned too; (lightly edited because its late asf.)
It’s kinda cute actually. 🥹 His s/o is such a patient woman!! Has no issues with forcing his aggression on her. But HOLY, once Obito is in charge.
Babygirl, you're fucked. In every sense of the word. He's not super fond of tying you up because he really likes when your nails dig into his skin. Obito, bless his little Uchiha heart, can't really feel much on his right side due to nerve damage. So you can freely bite and claw your way up his arm and throat. For the love of god, leave those delectable red marks in the shape of your lips. Hickey's are his love language, and Obito won't hesitate to consensually leave you a handprinted necklace. A testament to how a bit you both are unruly and unhinged in the heated throes of sex.
He's so shy, but easily warms up to it. Especially when you look that gorgeous stuffed with his cock in your mouth. He loves loves loves when you hum from the base of his shaft and up to his tip, sucking there just a little harder than the rest of him. Please press a kiss there too every so often, the tender aspect of it makes him whine. You sucking him as the slut he's always needed just drives him bonkers, and may make him cum fast. And that's usually embarrassing for some men, but when you both are really in the mood for one another...this is just the starting line. You haven't even been stretched around him properly.
His absolute favorite thing is overstimulation. For both of you, he particularly enjoys cock warming in your mouth until he's hard and ready again. It goes without saying, but most Uchiha have a really quick refresh rate (breeding kink checking in). And, this is just my two cents, I love all the Uchiha men, but Obito is built like a damn semi truck, ok? Cock, balls and fuck if I don't love good thighs on a man. Powerful enough to just keep going and going and going... So have your fun now, because you're getting railed faster than the 'midnight train to anywhere.' Your pussy will be crying and raw by the end of the next two hours.
Obito might not even go soft if he's sucked deep enough in your throat. The muscles in the back milk him so damn good. Of course Obito's ideal woman swallows his cum whole, but he understands if you didn't like it coming out your nose like last time. Regardless, once he's been worked good enough, you better grip the sheets and expect to be flipped on your stomach. I truly believe that Obito's favorite position is face down, ass up. He loves to see you shudder and writhe, how each thrust ricochets through your lithe frame.
It gives him the most intimate view of his beautiful cock filling you too, seeing how deliciously you swell around his girth that first thrust in. You being a whimpering mess is an added bonus, even if you try to be quiet, you're not. Not really. Probably don't even remember half the shit you moan out when he's busy fucking you this way.
'Gods Obi...just like that..' or 'Please, I need to cum.' He really enjoys edging you, and then once he does allow you to cum, fucks you into oblivion until you can't stand it anymore.
His large palm pressing your face into the mattress as you stare up at him with glazed eyes, his other hand gripping your ass. He's not thrusting himself into you, he's thrusting you over his cock. The perfect little sleeve, and you glide so easy over him. In and out, the delicate tap tap tap of his cock head against your sensitive cervix just is so good, you cum so fast within the few minutes of being conquered this way. He doesn't mean it if it hits too hard, his cock is just that divine and long. Several orgasms leave you drenching his shaft, but Obito is far from cumming fast this time.
Expect to be thrown into every position known to mankind, and ending with every Uchiha males favorite. The mating press. Oh it's so so so hot, looking into those dark onyx eyes this way. He's incredibly one of the best Uchiha to watch when they cum. His eyes gleam with the impending orgasm that makes his cock twitchy and thicker. Hand at your throat, squeezing every time he feels the dull throb of your pussy sucking his cock in more and more. Each gentle swell of your overused walls reverberates up and down his aching need.
'That's right babygirl, you love to cum all over me.' and all you can do it moan more, words are beside your minds ability to function other than thinking about how full you are.
I know this is supposed to be a dominate situation for you guys, but Obito can't help but be a tender dom. Asking you if you're gonna cum all over his cock again, begging you to cum with him. You both are babbling little fucked out idiots here. And the moment that throb in the depths of your cunt shoots through you, making the both of you pant over each other's mouths. His hand tightens around your throat the second you moan his name for the hundredth time tonight, that undeniable sound of gratification and satisfaction as you cum hard all over his cock. Shaking, twitching and incapable of breathing due to his grip. Adding another layer of your juices to his balls and thighs, the bed is a damn lake from the two of you and it probably is reaching up your back now.
A final groan in your neck as you feel your orgasm coaxing his to fruition. Obito is a softie when he finally cums, it's just so hot to him when you want him to use you this way. Its the best offering for a man who was deprived of basic human touch. Being milked for all that he is worth in the most beautiful manner. SO much better than all those solo years as a 'handy man.' His cum, like most Uchiha, is thick and warm. Coats your insides and each subsequent thrust thereafter your mutual climaxes causes some of it to seep out around your raw opening.
The time you two take to come down and actually gather your senses is euphoric. Obito traces your skin, and rubs your aching thigh muscles when he finally sits up.
All in all, he's down to please you however. Maybe next time he'll wear that mask you always ask about...
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I hope you don't mind if I drop a little gift here. I couldn't sleep so here’s another tasty delusion from the era before he became Husband!Jay.
Boyfriend!Jay almost got caught this time. You close the window to your dorm room just before a uni security guard walks by. Jay stares at you wide-eyed as he sits on the floor in the darkness. His heart is still racing, sweat on his brow. He could easily be suspended, if not expelled, for being in the womens' dorm. But he can see the excitement on your beautiful face in the moonlight. He instantly remembers why he’s decided to risk it all for the third time this semester. You reach down to help him off the floor. But instead he pulls you on top of him. Bricked up from adrenaline and lust. He needs you now.
“Precious, you better ace your test tomorrow ‘cuz if you don't– no more booty calls for you,” he teases.
“Yes Daddy,” you say sweetly as you roll your hips, grinding against his erection. You know it drives him crazy when you call him that. He grabs your ass with both hands as he moans into your kisses.
“WHY CAN'T YOU WHORES DO THIS AT YOUR DORM, JONGSEONG??!!” your roomie yells from her bed.
“Shit! Why didn't you tell me she was here?” He jumps. You giggle as he grumbles, dropping his head against the floor. “Starting tomorrow, we're looking for an off campus apartment,” he whispers sternly.
“Fine. But let's just pretend… she's not here,” you whisper, nibbling on his ear.
“NO. NO. I AM STILL VERY MUCH HERE!!!” she turns on her lamp before launching a plushie, bonking you on the head.
First of all, I NEVER mind any form of Park Jongseong in my inbox! (You absolute treasure of a human!)
Second, I just need to pick my soul up off the floor because this was *chefs kiss* 🫠 more boyfriend!Jay pleaseeeee 🙏🏻😍
#lovely kangnina#jay smut#jay hard thoughts#jay x reader#enhypen smut#enhypen hard thoughts#jjongie#love of my heart
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Misunderstanding. Part 4.
Warnings- Angst, fluff, danger and a fan crush moment.
-----------------------------------------------------
“Romanoff?”
“Tony get your ass here Y/n is in danger”
“What?”
“Just get here!”
“Tony, is everything okay?” Bucky asks, noticing the worried look on Tony's face. “What did Natasha say?”
“Nat said they are in trouble, more like Y/n is in danger.” Tony replies.
“What happened?” Steve asks immediately, a bit of panic seeping into his voice, as he realized you and Natasha are in danger. “Where are you going? What’s going on?”
Few hours ago...
“Y/n talk to me”
“Nat I'm fine”
“Come on!” she says, grasping your hand, pulling you along. “Let's just walk and talk...”
“Okay, fine…” you agree, letting her guide you along. As you two make your way down the sidewalk, Natasha pauses and turns to you, her expression serious. “Y/n, I know you well enough to know, you are thinking too much. Talk to me babe”
You smile, happy at the fact that she knows you so well. “I should have told him, where I was being treated, I hid from him and lost him for good…”
“No, you did not lost him, ok? it was our decision for his own safety, hell we would have done it for Bucky too.”
“He is freaking Captain America!!! Nat, he can take care of himself, even if we know it’s the other way around. If he wants to be with someone else, I won't stop him”
“He loves you, you both are just going through a major misunderstanding…”
“Nat I'm not perfect for him! He deserves someone perfect, like him...” you exclaimed, cutting her mid-sentence.
“Did he told you that?” Nat snaps at you.
“No…” you mumble, pouting at her, for snapping at you. She just rolls her eyes over your dramatics.
“Then don't jump to conclusions, stay on the ground before doing something stupid!”
“Yeah, okay” you respond, feeling a bit tense as you anticipate her next move.
You stop walking, staring at her. Natasha is a smart woman, but god she had no patience for bullshits and over-reactions. But one thing is for sure, everything she says, is true and never ever argue with her.
“Are you going to keep on staring or what?!” she asks not bothering to stop, or look at you.
“Coming, god you can be scary at times!” you raised your hands up in surrender, as she raised her brows at you.
After some few minutes of silence, you talk again, “So how are things with Bucky?” You can swear on anything, that you saw her blush and choke on air at the same time!
“What did you see or hear?” Nat asks, looking straight ahead, avoiding your gaze. You just smirk at her.
Before you could continue, a guy ran towards you both and pushed Nat in the alley. “What the hell?!” You yell as a man suddenly grabs Natasha and drags her into an alleyway, surprising you both. You quickly aimed your gun at him “Let her go, now!”
“What? Natasha who is with you?” The man holding her was looking in your direction, but not directly at you.
“Hey, I said let her go!” You had a firm grip on the gun, ready to shoot, if required.
“Matt?”
“What? Do you know him?” you ask her, not lowering the gun.
“Y/n, I know him, put the gun down.”
“What, are you sure?” Natasha nods and you put your gun back down in your pocket.
The guy name Matt, lets her go and gives a sheepish smile to Nat. “Matt what are you doing here?” she asks him.
“I need your help…and”
“Wait, how did you know it was me?” you furrow your brows in confusion at her question.
“Your perfume that's how I knew you were near…” he answers rubbing the back of his neck.
“Wait her perfume? Who and what are you?” you ask looking at him with utter confusion, almost feeling like a third wheel.
“I’m a very good lawyer and you are? He smirks.
“Assassin!” you answer proudly.
Nat rolls her eyes, at your antics.
“Y/n wait, this is Matt, DD, remember I had told you? and Matt this Y/n fellow avenger and…”
“That's him!” you ask cutting her mid-sentence, “The blind kickass vigilante?” you ask, totally surprise to meet the infamous lawyer finally. “Sorry by the way…” you say quickly, realising you are going ahead in your fan zone.
“It's ok.” he tells you with a smile, before turning to Nat, “You told her about me?” getting serious.
“Yes she is my best friend, I tell her everything.” Nat replies with a smirk and a proud smile.
“Since when did you started to make friends?” Matt asks in disbelief.
“Does not matter to you…” Nat scoffs.
“Yeah right!” Matt raises his eyebrows, running a hand through his silky hair.
You shake your head, getting some control over your fan crush, for the man wearing red tinted glasses.
“Umm...sorry to interrupt the reunion, but I supposed he wants your help with something?” you remind them.
“Yes, right thank you, come this way...” Matt smiles at you, gesturing you and Nat to follow him.
“Not to sound rude, where are we supposed to go and why?” Nat asks in a stern voice, getting serious now.
“I was on my way for work, I heard some guys talk about planting a bomb, somewhere here and if my senses are right, that bomb is there. Right at the end of the alley, inside that abandon building” He replies with a serious tone.
“How did you know its abandon?” you ask getting curious.
“Senses” both Nat and Matt reply in unison.
“Sorry…” you shrug, not sure whether you offended him or both.
As you three enter the building, you split. With Nat searching the ground floor, you and Matt start looking on the first floor. Most of the walls were collapsed, debris fallen everywhere.
Out of instinct, you helped Matt to walk, making sure he didn’t fall or stumble on anything.
“Sorry, I know you are a vigilante and can take care of yourself, I…”, Matt smiles cutting you off “It’s really nice of you to help me. Yes, I like to be independent, but you helped me out of instinct not because of pity. And I don’t mind a beautiful girl like you, helping me.” He smiles, offering you his arm, which you accept with a red face.
“You are blushing”
“No, I'm not...” you bite your lip to hide the smile forming on your lips.
“I can hear your heartbeats” he tells you, laughing softly.
“Your senses are very admirable…” you smile.
“Thank you.”
You both kept looking, from one room to another, before finally entering the last room.
“I don't feel right about this room…” Matt says, getting bit tensed.
“Your senses acting up?” you tease, to lighten the mood.
Matt laughs heartedly, he looks so cute, “No I think it's in here…”
“Well let's keep on looking, or else you might need to get your senses checked. Tony and Bruce can help you.”
“Tony will kill me…” Matt says, as he starts looking around, by poking his stick. “You know him?” you ask, looking in one of the boxes piled up.
“Yes, long story for another day…” he says still looking.
“Asking me out already?” You ask, coming to his side.
“I don't mind, do you?”
Before you could answer, Matt's pokes a box and it falls on the ground with a loud thud. The box was full of bricks, Matt asks you, what the noise was and you answer, “Bricks. Why keep a box full of bricks?”
“Yes, everything here is empty, except for this box…”
“Shit” you both say in unison and look at the place where the box was before. There was the bomb. The weight of bricks, had kept it off. Wires were connected to a box with code pad.
Without a second thought, you both sat on the bomb with half asses.
“Y/n, what are you doing?”
“Keeping the bomb off, what are you doing?”
“This is no time for being funny, get off now”
“If either of us gets off, we are gonna die. The bomb has stopped under our shared weight…”
Some minutes later, Nat comes up looking for you both.
“Guys did you find anything?” She sees you two sitting together and she raises her brow.
“Yes we did…” you answer.
“What? where is it?”
“You are looking at it!” this time Matt answers with anger evident on his face. Seriously why are people snapping today?
Matt explains everything to Natasha. She tries to defuse the bomb, but is unsuccessful. With no other option she texts and calls Tony.
“Tony is on his way.” Nat tells you both, with a hopeful smile.
“Now we wait…” you say sarcastically, to which Nat gives you a smile and Matt is still angry.
Nat makes herself a seat, using few of the empty boxes and sits comfortably.
“Matty smile…” Nat jokes and you try to suppress a laugh, while Matt just ignores you two.
“You know… whatever happens or may not happen… can you try to be less grumpy and smile? You look cute when you smile...” you tease Matt, even though you can see the corners of his lips turning into a smile, he stills acts angry.
“Why did you?”
“Why did you?”
You both ask each other the same question.
Matt remains quiet and you answer his question, “Matt I have fought worst people, aliens, heck gods and robots. This bomb is nothing.”
Matt was about to say something, but you don’t let him speak, “Don't blame yourself. Even if you had not asked for our help, I still would have been in danger, in some other mission. My job comes with danger, so there's no escaping it. I trust Nat, Tony and everyone else. Nothing will happen to us, Matt.”
Matt starts to relax a bit, “You are good with words…”
“Thank you.”
“She is good in lots of ways…” Nat winks at you and you give her a ‘what are you trying to do?’ look.
“Is that so?” Matt chimes in.
“Don't tell me, his senses pick that up?” you laugh.
Back at the compound...
“Come on, metal man, we have to go now!” Tony says, his voice a mix of urgency and concern. “Don't call me that” Bucky warns him.
“Are you coming or not?” Tony asks with a raised brow.
“I'm coming, they both need us.”
“Tony wait, I'm coming with you.” Steve tells him.
“Steve, please...” Tony replies, clearly feeling torn between wanting to have Steve with him, and knowing that he doesn't want to risk another fight breaking out. “I need you to watch the compound, in case we need anything, I’ll let you know. Trust me on this.”
“No, let Bucky stay; I have to come please…” Steve begs and Tony's resolve wavers, as he sees the desperation in Steve's eyes.
“Fine suit up.”
“No! She needs me, not Captain America.”
A/N: Seriously Charlie Cox is so cute and hot..!
(Comment, feedbacks and reblog are highly appreciated. I hope you all enjoy.)
Part 3 -
TAGLIST- @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @lillyxlillian
#chris evans characters#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers angst#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers x reader angst#steve rogers x reader fluff#steve rogers#matt murdock#daredevil
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[BAD DECISION #1] Purple Starfuckers
warnings: alcohol, clubbing
soundtrack: bad decisions - bts, passionfruit - drake, promiscuous - nelly furtado & timbaland
wc: 3.5k
bd total wc: 540k (on-going)
minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist
"Don't think of it as a bad decision. Think of it as a lesson learned. Something to remember for next time."
The way Hoseok looks at you is borderline comical - face all scrunched up, mouth hanging ajar. He's scowling, but it isn't new. He's had a face like a slapped arse all evening. Kinda goes with the territory of a fresh break-up, mind you.
"You don't seriously believe that?" He scoffs, before swallowing his words down with the rum and coke that he's been nursing for the past fifteen minutes. It tastes like shit, and is far too strong - but he's the one who asked for a triple. No one else to blame
The bartender had raised his pierced brow, told Hoseok that he's "not allowed to do that" - but had offered to make him a double and pour a separate shot, instead. "What you do with that shot is up to you," the bartender had shrugged - and so Hoseok had poured it straight on in.
You finish your own drink with a roll of your eyes and shake of your head. "What I believe is that she wasn't 'the one', Hobes. Was a lucky escape, if you ask me. She was fucking vile to me and Danbi."
"You guys just didn't get to know her proper-"
"Hobi, she wore white to Jungmi's wedding," Danbi interrupted. Truthfully, she could not have cared less for how badly Hoseok's ex had treated her - it was when she started behaving badly around other people, embarrassing them in the process, that she started to take offence. If there was one thing Danbi had, it was pride. "WHITE! Who does that?! Poor Jungmi. She's a better woman than me. I'd have fought that bitch on the spot, right in the aisle. Don't care if it's my wedding day, when bitches deserve a slap-"
"Dan," you laugh but try and get her to quiet down, knowing that Hoseok is still reeling from the break-up. As true as her words are, he doesn't need to hear them right now. Turning to Hoseok, you stroke up his shoulder tenderly, with a soft smile on your glossy lips.
You didn't cover yourself head to toe in glitter just to sit in the smoking area of a shitty club all night. There's fun to be had.
"Look, Hobes, it sucks that things ended the way they did -" a screaming match over the price of asparagus in the middle of a supermarket, that was totally an argument about something more than that, but Hoseok is still in denial - "but not everything we lose is a loss. Okay? You've still got us."
Which is admittedly more than he deserves after how much of a shitbag he'd turned into during the relationship. He'd go days, weeks - hell - sometimes months, without getting back to you. You and Dan had been fine - you had each other after all - but it still sucked not having your third musketeer with you.
"Now c'mon," you smile. "Get that drink down you, and get that pretty ass of yours on the floor. We both know you're dying for a good dance."
"I don't feel like it," he groans - but he downs his drink regardless, and is dancing to a noughties classic within five minutes.
You think it's Nelly Furtado - it is - but you're so drunk that you can't really place it. It's the kind of song that everyone knows; the kind of song that gets everyone's hips moving just right. Bodies are hot and sweaty, the clammy dancefloor a pit of sin. To you, though, it feels like heaven at that moment. This is all you've wanted for months. You're holding Danbi's hands, Hoseok between the pair of you, unable to escape and not really wanting to, either. He's smiling, and it's the best thing you've seen all night.
The lights of the club beam down on you, pinks and blues reflecting the satin dress you're wearing. It's short, barely covering your ass, and silver. Picked out especially for a night like this; when attention is welcome, but not necessarily encouraged. You think you look like a trophy. Maybe someone will be lucky enough to win you. Maybe not.
From the bar, Jeon Jeongguk thinks you look like a little disco ball.
He's wiping a tumbler dry, fresh from the glass washer, making most of the lull in customers coming to the bar. There are only three of them behind it, and it always makes Friday shifts feel that little bit more hectic.
Dionysus, a club just on the outskirts of the party district, is always busier on a Saturday, so he prefers Friday shifts. A relatively small club, it has only a single dancefloor and a bar area with a few seats. The back entrance leads to the smoking area, which is where he'd first noticed you coming from with your friends. There's nowhere to hide, really, in a club like this. If you're in Dionysus, everyone knows about it.
Especially the bartenders.
"What do we reckon," Yeonjun, the youngest of the crew, smirks at Jeongguk as he nods towards you and your friends. "They all going home together, or what?"
A little air squeaks through Jeongguk's lips as he purses them, trying to get a read on your little trio. The way you're moving your hips towards the dude in the middle certainly seems a little more than friendly. At least, if a girl he'd never met before was dancing with him like that, he'd take it as a good sign he was getting laid.
What makes it interesting is the fact that there are two of you. You in silver, another girl in black. Both pretty. Both incredibly different, but both captivating nonetheless. Like a pair of shooting stars, he thinks, cracking through the crowd at a vibrancy that could blind. Is a little confused as to how the fuck you aren't being pestered by other guys - doesn't complain though. Makes for a clear line of vision.
It's nights like these which make Jeongguk wish he worked a normal job. He misses out on all the fun always being behind the bar, he thinks. Does also save him from making some bad decisions that he knows would surely haunt him. If anything, he should be thankful.
"Fuck knows," he simply says, closing the glasswasher and whipping the towel over his shoulder. "10,000 won says he's going home alone."
Yeonjun smirks. "You're on."
It's less of a bet for Jeongguk. More of a manifestation. He likes watching you dance. Doesn't like the thought of you dancing with the dude by yourself. Doesn't like the idea of you leaving with him, either. Considers the fact that maybe you're not even interested in dudes, and that it's the girl you're holding hands with who you'll be leaving with instead. He's less intimidated by that - at least your disinterest in him would be preference based - but it's still not his favourite scenario.
It's not like he knows you, nor will he ever know you. He just likes to live in the what-ifs. They're always so much safer. Can't get rejected if you don't put yourself out there.
And so he carries on with work just like he should, serving the next punters who stumble to the bar. He pours them a water with their order, because lord knows they need it, and laughs when someone tries to pay for it thinking it's a vodka lemonade.
"On the house," he shrugs, letting their drunk minds believe it really is a vodka lemonade. Easier that way. Will get them drinking water, at least, even if just for a sip or so before they clock on.
You're laughing, a little out of breath and not entirely steady on your feet, as you head to the bar.
He'd been so busy with the last customers that he didn't even notice until he saw you using the bar to help steady yourself. You aren't looking in his direction, but up at the row of spirits behind him, trying to sus out what you fancy.
Your hair is dark, up in a ponytail with grown-out bangs framing your face. The makeup you've been wearing has faded, melted off from the heat of the club, but the glitter remains. You really do look like a disco ball, he thinks. It makes him smile.
"Hey, sorry," you beam towards him, eyes just as sparkling at the glitter dusted on your collarbones. He raises his brows, expression open, receptive, as he moves closer to the bar. "What's something that can get me fucked up but also tastes delicious?"
Oh, how he loves a challenge. He licks his lips and tilts his head to the side. "What do you qualify as delicious?"
"No passionfruit," you say almost instantly. "So no pornstars." And then you gag a little, to emphasise just how much you hate passionfruit.
"No pornstars, noted," Jeongguk says as he pulls an imaginary pencil from behind his ear and pretends to jot it down on his palm. He looks back up at you, and doesn't bother fighting the way his teeth bite down on his bottom lip - why would he? You're giggling. He likes it. And he also knows you're probably drunk, so won't remember this interaction in the morning.
"Well, I mean, none of the drinking variety," you grin, tongue in cheek. "If you happen to know any of the human variety, send them my way."
He almost chokes on his own spit. The shock in his eyes has you laughing again.
"I'm joking, you idiot."
Although you kind of totally aren't. You haven't been laid in a while. You'll take anything with a pulse who is interested at this point.
"I knew that," he bluffs, and looks back down at his palm as if he's reading again. "Okay, so no pornstars - pornstar martinis. What else?"
"Don't like orange juice."
"Do you like anything?"
You like lots of things. So many things that your brain can't think straight, actually.
You like the way a tattoo is peaking out of his shirt sleeve. You like dancing with your friends. Being drunk. His smile. The way he's joking with you. The knowledge that Hoseok is probably doing the robot as you speak. Sunsets. The chain around the neck of the man in front of you. Those cute tiny straws he puts in some of the cocktails. Him.
But you narrow your eyes, and ignore your brain. "Alcohol."
He narrows his eyes right back. Purses his lips. Looks down at his fake notepad, then back up at you. "I think I have just the thing for you."
Reaching for the plastic cups which you know are reserved for water, you almost look offended. Does he not think you have eyes? Are too drunk to know he's giving you water?
He places it in front of you and smiles, lips together, eyes round - but still challenging you.
"It's water," you tell him, and he nods. No denial.
"Uh-huh. Cleanse your palette first."
"Are we fine dining?"
"We aren't doing anything," he assures you. He's on the clock. "But everything tastes like shit after a smoke, so if you wanna enjoy it, have some water."
Your brows furrow together, head tilting and then you're self-conscious. "Do I smell like smoke?"
You'd doused yourself in perfume and had been chewing on gum to hide it, but apparently not well enough.
Jeongguk shakes his head, realising how much wider your eyes are. You don't seem as confident. You're not smiling anymore.
"No, no," he says quickly and nods toward your clutch, which is propped open on the side of the bar. A packet of cigarettes are sticking out slightly, a lighter tucked into the side. "I just guessed - sorry. I didn't mean to- I mean, no. You don't. Not at all."
You follow his gaze, and find yourself smiling. Small misunderstanding. That's all. But he seems just as panicked as you had been. It's sweet.
"Fine," you elongate your response and let your eyes narrow again, to let him know you're ready to banter again. "I'll drink it - but whatever you're making better be good."
"If you hate it, it's on the house," he says, knowing that you won't hate it. He sets about making your drink as you sip on the water, not really watching him because you're trying to focus on not falling over. Water actually seems like a great idea. You're thankful for it.
When Jeongguk returns to your spot by the bar, he can't stop blinking. The glass of water - an entire pint - is finished. You're smiling, lips a little wet, eyes a little hazy.
"Thirsty," you shrug.
He checks your jaw to make sure it's not grinding, but it's perfectly still. Not a gram of MD - the drug of choice in Dionysus circles - in your system. You just really are thirsty - had been dancing all bloody night. He knows this, but he's naive to how hot it is down there. Hasn't actually been on the dancefloor himself in a while. Always working.
He accepts your defence, and holds up the shot in front of you. It's tiny, and pretty, all purple and shimmery.
Jeongguk smiles. "Purple Starfucker."
The water you've just finished almost comes back up through your system. "Sorry?!"
"Purple Starfucker," Jeongguk simply repeats. "Amaretto, peach schnapps, a little curacao and cranberry juice. Fucking delicious."
You do love all of those. It's the ideal drink for you. You've never had it before, but you know it's gonna be good. He places it down in front of you, but that challenging look is still in your eye.
He laughs a little. Can't figure you out. Has no idea what you're thinking. "What are you waiting for?"
"Nothing," you grin, picking the shot glass up by the rim, raising it with a nod. "To Purple Starfuckers."
Jeongguk nods back. Toys with his lip piercing, the tip of his tongue peeking out ever so slightly before he bites down on his lip. "To Purple Starfuckers."
From his peripherals, Jeongguk can see Yeonjun leaning against the countertop at the back of the bar, watching him with a curious smirk.
Un-fucking-believable, Yeonjun thinks. Reckons Jeongguk is trying to fuck with the bet. Trying to lure Disco Ball away. He doesn't hear the conversation, but he can read your lips - 'Holy shit? That's fucking delicious? How much do I owe you?' - and watches the way Jeongguk shakes his head. Hands too. Shrugs. Bloody git is giving it to you on the house.
10,000 won ain't that much, but Yeonjun doesn't like losing. "Oi, Disco Ball. Get your friends"- he nods towards Hoseok and Danbi. -"We'll make you a round."
He ignores the way Jeongguk's eyes burn into him, knowing that his shit-eating grin is enough to wind Jeongguk up. They love each other really, but in a way you'd love a sibling. Fully capable of hating one another, too.
You glance up to Jeongguk, almost as if you're asking his permission. You kind of are. You trust him. He's been kind. This other bartender? He's a bit louder. Far brasher. And he'd called you Disco Ball? The fuck?
Jeongguk nods. Doesn't want you to leave, but equally knows the only reason you're looking at him like that - eyes all wide and innocent - is 'cause you're drunk. Doubts it would be the same if you were sober. When he comes to think of it, he'd rather you were with your friends. Safer that way. "Hurry. Before we get really busy."
And so you scurry off, running on the balls of your feet to avoid awkward heel mishaps. There's something endearing about it and it's almost enough to distract him from Yeonjun's taunts.
"If he doesn't take her home, I will."
"She's fucked," Jeongguk tells him, voice stern, eyes still on you. Fucking around with punters isn't against the rules, but taking advantage of drunk girls? Yeah, not on his watch. Doesn't matter who it is. He's seen enough creeps and enough girls in tears because of them to know when to step in. "You're going nowhere near her."
"I clock off in an hour," Yeonjun reminds him. Jeongguk the one who's closing the bar tonight. "Plenty of time to play catch up."
Yeonjun - brilliant, blue-haired, and with enough boyish charm to seduce almost anyone - isn't a creep. He looks up to Jeongguk. Respects him. Follows his lead. Would never take advantage of a punter. He just likes winding Jeongguk up a little too much.
Jeongguk ignores him. Doesn't put it past him. While Yeonjun likes to think he has values, Jeongguk knows he's just as horny and desperate as the rest of the fuckers in the bar.
That's not to say Jeongguk is discounting himself from the generalisation - he just actually does have morals. To some degree, at least.
You're on the dancefloor for no more than thirty seconds, dragging Hoseok and Danbi with you to the bar. They complain and moan - "but I love that song!" - though as soon as they're faced with a tray of shots, their moods shoot up. You go to pay Jeongguk, but he shakes his head.
"On the house."
"You're trying to get me drunk," you accuse with a knowing smile.
"You're already drunk," he smiles right back. It's not his goal. It's a fairly quiet night. If anything, this is entertainment. Not like there's much better for him to be doing. Not until his friends drop by later, at least. "I'm just a nice barman."
Part of you wants to protest. He's covered in tattoos - his hands, the ones peaking from his shirt at the wrist and the neck - and has more piercing in his ears than you do. There's a stud in his brow, and a ring on his lip. It's his eyes though, that you think scream danger the most. They're deep and they're dark, and you know better than to trust them.
And yet when he smiles like that, your tummy feels all fuzzy in the same way that your head does.
"Well thank you Mr Nice Barman," you nod and curtsey, because that somehow feels appropriate.
"Jeongguk," he corrects, before knocking his head to the side and nodding towards the dancefloor. "Go enjoy your night, trouble."
Not too much, though, he thinks to himself, but watches as you bounce back to the dancefloor with your friends.
The drinks were a small gesture, but one that he knows will have made a difference to their night. No skin off his back. He likes doing things like this. You're not the first, likely won't be the last - but he spends a lot longer than usual quietly observing you as you get on with your night. Doesn't notice the smile on his face.
Yeonjun does, though. Chooses not to say anything. Knows when to pick his battles.
Does warn him when he sees Jeongguk's friends bundle in through the door, though. "Watch out boss. Same as usual?"
Jeongguk nods, and Yeonjun sets about making a round of drinks for the usual suspects. Three malibu and cokes, one rum and lemonade and four purple starfuckers. Jeongguk'll make those. They're his signature.
"Look what the cat dragged in," he grins towards his friends, all a little worse for wear. Bleary-eyed, they're smiling and joking, having come from dinner - which turned into drinks, and then more drinks and then - fuck it - clubs. Dionysus is always the final stop. They like the atmosphere; like the free drinks even more.
"You know us," Park Jimin grins at him in the sleazy way he so often does, which lets Jeongguk knows he's up to no good. "Where the pussy goes, we surely follow."
"Speak for yourself," Namjoon snorts beside him, a little more sober than the others. Taehyung and Yoongi are engaged in their own conversation - something about the Samsung Lions and baseball strategy that Jeongguk doesn't care much for. "Quiet night?"
"Fairly," Jeongguk nods - which can only mean one thing. Same thing it means every week.
He'd always thought that by the time they hit their mid-twenties, they'd be over this lifestyle by now - but his friends like to make just as many bad decisions as he does.
"Round up boys," Jimin cheers, his voice booming above the bass of whatever noughties classic is on. "Purple Starkfucker time!"
Jeongguk laughs. Shakes his head, rolls his eyes. Unfolds his defensive arms. Glances up to the crowd - but you're lost to the night. Maybe not forever, but for now, at least.
And so he just nods, and cheers along with them.
"Purple Starfucker time."
AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT
#by holly#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#jungkook ff#jk#jungkook x reader#jeongguk fanfic#bangtan#jungkook fluff#bartender!jungkook#non idol au#bts fanfic#jeongguk fic#bad decisions#dappleddaisies
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Hello! If you don't mind answering, what are your thoughts on Rogue only mentioning Gambit during E.7 ?
It felt weird after all these episodes and exploration of their relationship.
Ahoy there! 🛸
Well... I try not to put too much thought into it. Overall Bright Eyes felt like a moment of transition towards the finale (with an absolute kick-ass Rogue). I am happy they had an episode that showcased a part of what Rogue was going through after Genosha, because, as Amelia Vogh said - 'a survivor is the last thing I’d wanna be.’ So Rogue has a lot to process: the guilt and grief over losing Gambit, the uncertainty and anxiety around Magneto and well, the death of so many people around her. Remember what Magneto said? “We shall not live our days wondering if we could’ve saved more.” Rogue is doing just that - and it's hell.
About Rogue focusing just on Gambit - it makes sense. She held his body in her arms. That moment is with her probably every time she closes her eyes. The way I see it, there are two reasons why the focus has been only on expressing her feelings for Remy.
1. It might be just the way it is. Rogue and Gambit will always be 'the couple'. More so for TAS. They are one of the most well-known and popular Marvel couples so, after the drama was done, the writers needed to pull that ship back on course. It was always going to be like that and I'll be here for the ride. Not everything in media has to be written to match my preferences. Plus, the show has kept both of them in character and written them exceptionally well so far. Especially with Gambit, I am grateful for the care they put into portraying him, because in comics it's such a mess, depending on who's writing him. So I am expecting the focus to be on Rogue and Gambit from now on.
2. The other reasoning (from a media literacy perspective), and the one I prefer - is that she's processing. It might turn out to be true or it might not - the show will tell us. But at this moment it does look like that. Grief, guilt, shock. First of all, in Magneto's case, there was no body. The rule is until the search is called off, if there is no body, there is no death confirmation. So Rogue is struggling to accept it. What she knows is that Remy is dead - that is a reality she cannot avoid and it consumes her. On the other hand she was refusing to face the possibility that Erik was also gone. Then Kurt made it real. In the privacy of that moment between them he said what she wasn't allowing herself to think or accept: that she lost more than one person she cared about. Secondly, also why it makes that moment with Kurt so much more heavy, is that no one else in the team knows of the emotional connection she has with Erik. Everyone who knew the depths (Gambit and, in parts, Madelyne) are dead. I don't think Rogue can voice her grief in front of the rest without an explanation. She can however channel it through Gambit’s loss. What is worse is that her feelings for Gambit are now intertwined with a lot of guilt, and she probably feels like she has failed him in particular. And it breaks my heart. I don’t think that’s fair towards her and I am not particularly a fan of that, but X-men has often times put drama ahead of character development.
So is it the first one? Is it the second one? Who knows, maybe it’s a bit of column A, a bit of column B. But there is one thing that I would have liked the episode to show more of: I wanted to see Rogue processing what it meant for her to survive Genosha, to survive the genocide. I care more about that, about her humanity, her struggles and convictions, unrelated to the romantic aspects. Romance is not the ultimate form of love, and it doesn’t have to be the most intense display of love either.
#rogue#gambit#remy lebeau#magneto#erik lehnsherr#rogneto#romy#x men#x men ‘97#x men 97#x men 97 spoilers#anna marie#anna marie adler#texpost#marvel#just thoughts#still a firm believer that what's happening with magneto is far crueler than death
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Trigger Warning for abuse since I am going to be talking about it a lot.
My honest reaction to TSM anon's confessions/posts trying to justify J's treatment of N. (They're so ass)
Ok so uhh... Anyway I'll try to debunk some of the points:
First of all: yes the fuck she is abusive! Search the damn definition on Google or the dictionary, it's exactly what she's doing, like beat for beat.
Let's start with two examples: one from the manor and another from copper-9.
J kicking N in the manor flashback: for context N and V had literally just bumped into each other, made a spark and both were trying to clean up the mess they made, then comes in Ms. Tenth letter of the alphabet with a kick to N's face for like no fucking reason whatsoever.
J stepping on N's chest while he clearly struggles: In the pilot during the scene that introduces the Alphabet squad during J's introduction she has her foot on his chest while saying he's useless, terrible and if she could, she'd kill him herself and N is very clearly struggling to even breath.
Those two very clearly ARE abuse, the second one even has a tinge of verbal abuse!
Ok so TSM tried to justify both these actions by us not knowing the full context.
The context of the kick is that: there is none, that kick was completely unprovoked, so J had absolutely no reason for kicking N aside from him being in her way from the "move it moron" line, and she changes up her attitude completely at Tessa being there, her visor showing those hollow eyes that drones show when worried or scared.
But even if you say "oh but N was in J's way so she kicked him out" but she could have just, you know, MOVED A LITTLE BIT TO THE RIGHT?!?!? And also that does not excuse kicking a person in the face.
Context of the second scene is: THERE IS NONE, ONE AGAIN! The reason that scene exists is to show that A. J is abusive towards N, and B. J is a hypocrite! Let me explain, A is very self explanatory, stepping on someone's chest and verbally abusing them is very clearly well... Abuse and B is to show that even though she calls N useless, N has shown throughout the rest of the series he is a very competent fighter, arguably better than his fellow DDs and also that even though J was pretty much insulting N for being weak, she got killed by a Angsty bisexual 18-year-old with a pen and a Railgun made out of like, scrap.
I don't know how you can genuinely look at those scenes and go "J isn't an abuser" even though yes she fucking is.
Also I dead ass forgot that second post aside from the "why would Cyn put N in the squad if his abuser?" Part, which has a very simple explanation: it wasn't Cyn, it was Mr. Solver of the absolute fabric itself! It used Cyn as a host, Cyn wasn't in control, she prob has been dead for a long ass time.
The solver is sadistic and it likes fucking with the alphabet squad, take V as an example: it allowed V to keep her memories, just to make V's trauma even worse.
The solver thinks it's funny to traumatize people so why wouldn't it think putting a person in the same team as their abuser wouldn't be?
Anyways I've been typing this since 5:30 AM, and now it's 6:50 and I got school so I'll stop here, if you got anything else to add put it in the reblogs ig...
Final note: I haven't been abused myself (not that I remember) so I can't really fully grasp the concept, but still, J's treatment of N is like, the dictionary definition of Abuse, I'm very bad at understanding other people and their emotions and I'm not super great at analysing characters but this shit is so obviously abuse seeing TSM over here trying to say otherwise is giving me a brain aneurysm.
Anyways have a good day/evening/night or whatever time of day it is :D
.
#md confessions#murder drones#abuse cw#serial designation j#serial designation n#serial designation v#md cyn#the absolute solver
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Mostly random 911 thoughts about S7
Buddie won’t go canon this season but hinted at in closing episodes (like last 2)
^ (there’s only 4 eps left this season and Eddie needs his own ‘oh shit I’m gay’ arch) (also other reasons that will take up too much space)
Perhaps Maddie gets pregnant again
No I don’t have any idea where I got that from but it just feels right now I said it (maybe even next season if not now)
Bobby/Athena/maybe both start to think of retirement
Athena might go to desk job/less field activities
^ Bobby similarly but I mainly think he would flat out retire
Hen and Eddie have a moment together
Dumbass Buck, Eddie, Chim, Hen, Ravi moments through episode and Bobby just sighs and looks at neighboring Captain and goes “sorry I forgot to give the kids enrichment time earlier” (LET THEM BE THE DUMMIES WE KNOW THE 118 TO BE)
Chimney and Maddie get into a nasty ass fight but then turn out ok after a few episodes (maybe less - but they definitely fight)
May comes to see Bobby for x reason and Ravi is smitten (plz I think they would be cute)
Christopher runs away again and Buck freaks out this time
(This would cause many tears for everyone)
(Funny if Chris didn’t actually run away - just forgot to tell everyone he was hanging out with a friend)
Major natural disaster
Another car accident but off duty - they don’t find 118 member and only realize when they remember that’s the road said member takes to get home and they haven’t gotten home yet (bonus points if it’s Hen)
One of the main *stares at someone whose name rhymes with tuck* gets evicted and needs to move out of their overly expensive California home
Albert
Just Albert strutting in frame, shirt off, sweaty, huffin and puffin- I mean
Jee-Yun starting elementary school/preK and maddiechim SOBBING as Jee has the time of her LIFE (Uncle Buck picks her up bc the two are such messes and forgot to)
#jee yun buckley han#buck buckley#chimney han#maddie buckley#eddie diaz#bobby nash#hen wilson#athena grant#christopher diaz#911#911 abc#911 show#911 fox#911 season 7#911 fandom#albert han#ravi panikkar
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