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worldcatlas · 11 months

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DS9: Emissary (Part 1)

After an oddly Star Wars-esque text crawl, we meet Benjamin Sisko in a flashback to his time on the USS Saratoga, during the battle of Wolf 359. The ship is captained by a Vulcan named Storil, played by J.G. Hertzler, who would later come back to play the Klingon General Martok. Both are wearing TNG-style uniforms, and both are having a very bad day.

One of these characters is about to gain a tragic backstory, and it’s probably not the one we’ll never see again.

Oof. Thankfully, the plot fast forwards three years, and we see Sisko’s son Jake holo-fishing in some cute space overalls. The shirt appears to have an interesting texture, and the slightly darker fabric on the shoulders is a nice touch, with the double piping at the seams giving it just a hint of “space suit”.

You can eat whatever you catch, but it might leave you feeling a little… hollow.

Interestingly, this outfit would later find its way to the Delta quadrant, as we often see it worn by Rebi, one of the Borg twins in season 6 of Voyager.

Look, we all just want to be Super Mario in our hearts.

Next, it’s time to meet an old friend in a new uniform: it’s the universe’s favourite punching bag, Miles O’Brien! In contrast to the old uniforms, which displayed rank pips on a stiff collar, the new ones have a soft grey turtleneck under the jacket. As well, where the old uniforms had black shoulders and a coloured body and sleeves, the new ones are only coloured on top.

It saves on coloured ink in the replicator.

A tour of the dilapidated station wouldn’t be complete, of course, without a spooky Bajoran monk making ominous invitations, and Sisko is in luck! I love this look; the cowl and long sleeves convey religious modesty, while the asymmetry, exotic fabrics, and metallic accents give it a distinctly alien flair. Given the importance of Bajor to the plot of Deep Space Nine, it’s not surprising they’ve given this much care and attention to the Bajorans’ costume designs, but it’s still nice to see this level of detail on a one-off character.

He may be a harbinger of your cursed destiny, but he’s got his aesthetic locked down.

Speaking of Bajorans, we soon meet a very angry Major Kira in the uniform of the Bajoran militia. We’ll see different earth-toned variations around the station, but Kira’s is a rusty orange colour, made with heavy corduroy and quilted fabric on the sleeves. It’s a nice contrast to the primary colours Starfleet brings to the table, while still using rank pips and a communicator on the chest.

What, do you want me to do a twirl?

Elsewhere on the station, some last-minute looters are causing trouble, and we get a quick look at Ferengi fashion. Nog wears a typical Ferengi headpiece with shimmering sequins, and Quark adorns himself in heavy, patterned fabrics.

Rule of Acquisition #47: Don't trust a man wearing a better suit than your own.

Even better is Nog’s partner in (literal) crime, an unnamed alien in an impressively monochrome outfit. The alien wears baggy pants and a cowl similar to the Bajorans’, but also carries a spiked flail on his belt. He also wears a leather-looking vest with a strange bar across the front, and heavy bracers and boots, all in varying shades of brown.

It probably works great as camouflage… outside of a space station.

The two are busted, however, when security chief Odo shows up to out-brown them all.

Don’t make me go all the way to beige.

On board the docked Enterprise, Sisko has a very tense meeting with Picard, who asks him if they’ve met – before realizing they have, kinda, when Jean-Luc sort of uh… murdered Ben’s wife in his Borg phase. Oops.

Haha awkwarddd

The final straw was Sisko’s realization that they’d worn the same outfit, so he returns to the station to change into something else.

New year, new you(niform).

He gets a fit check from his new pal Odo, who wears a slightly different uniform in this scene than the one we saw on the promenade. This version is yellower, which doesn’t do any favours for his complexion, especially since the makeup also seems to be, uh, droopier.

You good, Odo? Need some bucket time?

Of course, a good captain always gets the opinion of his second in command, so he goes to see Kira as well, who is hard at work cleaning up the mess left behind by the Cardassians. It’s sweaty work, so she has removed her uniform jacket, revealing a very lovely sleeveless blouse underneath.

Redefining high-waisted pants for the 24th century.

In a helpful bit of exposition, she explains to Sisko how the Bajoran religion is the only thing holding her people together, and we get a glimpse of her earring – an important symbol of her faith.

However, their heartfelt conversation is cut short when the ominous monk from earlier returns to tell Sisko, simply, “It’s time.” He’s too Starfleet-polite to say no, or “who the heck even are you,” so we find ourselves whisked away to a temple.

Welcome! Get comfortable. It won’t last long.

The monks here, too, do amazing things with robes, using the same layering as before in various colours and textures. We meet Kai Opaka, an important religious leader, who insists on showing Ben a magic box. Suddenly, we’re transported to a beach, and our stoic commander is wearing some extremely purple beachwear.

I need to stop saying “yes” to everyone.Once the shock wears off, Sisko realizes his dead wife Jennifer is here too, in a killer teal and gold bikini! This would be great, except she doesn’t know who he is, so he just kind of weirds her out a little.

Excuse me, you’re blocking the radiation.

Sisko is nothing if not determined, however, and as he pursues Jennifer down the beach, we get to see some interesting swimwear in the background, too. I dig the pattern on the left suit, and the guy on the right is a great example of the old Trek standby of “colour blocking = futuristic”.

My man looking like an early aughts DVD menu.

Just as Ben’s about to win Jennifer over with aubergine stew, we’re thrown back to the present. Fortunately, it’s a present where we have Dabo girls in metallic latex dresses.

We’re all winners at the Dabo table.

Not fashion related, but I’m 99% sure this alien is playing his instrument with two cucumbers.

…?!

Anyway.

Gul Dukat comes aboard the station to spread smugness, wearing armour consistent with the Cardassians’ last appearance on TNG, though considerably updated from their first appearance (pictured: TNG season 4 “The Wounded”).

Is it just me, or do all Cardassians look alike?

Don’t expect to get any great fashion inspo from these guys, though, as they never leave the house without their pointy black security blankets.

Seriously, these guys have one look.

Lastly, we get a good – if all too brief – look at the outfit worn by Morn, the chatty barfly often seen in Quark’s. He’s wearing what appear to be studded leather gauntlets, to match the sleeves/pauldrons(?) on his top, which is obviously just stretched tight over his rippling muscles.

Some folks are just built different.

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h0tchner · 3 years

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Any Age, Any Day, Anywhere (Part 1) - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: WRITTEN FOR AN ANON REQUEST: "ok hi so u already wrote a jealous reader and was wondering whats your take on jealous hotch? i mostly see him in fics as possessive and yeah being the leader type i would think he could also be possessive but i also think that he would just be sad like ya know he doubts himself as we saw in some episodes and i think he would need assurance and a lot of convincing that u only love him but if you’ve given that to him then thats the time he would be possessive and god i would love to imagine a possessive and feral aaron hotchner"

word count: 3.5k

includes: kissing, so much freaking adorable fluff, talk of body insecurities, insecure!hotch, protective!hotch, wifey reader, super brief mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, confrontation with a drunk asshole (derek & hotch are all over it tho dw), party at papa rossi's!, smut to come in next chapter...

rating: 18+ (technically there is no smut in this part, but there are adult themes such as drinking, kissing, etc.).

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! This is part one of a two-part fic! The next part will be pure filth, so keep your eyes peeled for some feral hotch content... ALSO! PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Aaron! Can you come here for a sec?” you call out to your husband from the bathroom, muttering curses under your breath as you try (and fail) for the third time to zip up the back of your black cocktail dress.

“Sure, I just need a minute,” he replies from the bedroom closet, securing the last opalescent button on the arm of his white dress shirt. He looks at himself in the closet mirror, zeroing in at the bags under his eyes and the sprinkling of grey in his stubble. He looks… tired. Tired and old. And he hates it.

Even though Aaron is only in his late-40s, he has lived lifetimes; years of working as Unit Chief of the BAU will do that to a man. Every horror he’s seen and every person he’s lost has weighed on his body and mind. In the past few months, amidst work changes and a new baby, he’s been exhausted and in fear that he’s letting himself go. Of course, being the stoic man that he is, he’s done his absolute best to hide these feelings from you. Tonight, however, he doesn’t know if he can. It’ll be your first night out together as a couple since welcoming baby girl Hotchner to the family four months ago. With no pressing family or work distractions, he just knows that you’ll be able to sense his apprehensions. It’s only a matter of when.

Taking in a breath, he turns a little to the side, frowning at his profile. Aaron winces a little at his “dad bod,” but quickly recovers from the discomfort, milliseconds after it flashes across his face.

“Aaron Hotchner get your handsome butt in here and help me zip my dress! We’re gonna be late,” you exclaim, trying one last time to reach the zipper before giving up and crossing your arms in defeat. You lean back lightly against the countertop facing the door, letting the fabric slip off your shoulders, and wait for your husband to rescue you from the hell that is this dress.

At the sound of your voice, Aaron snaps out of his trance. He shakes his head lightly, as if to physically erase the intrusive thoughts, and clears his throat. Grabbing his suit jacket off the hanger, he flicks off the closet light and closes the door behind him.

Languidly, he meanders from the closet toward the bathroom. He drags his feet a little longer than he normally would, still feeling off and a little bit shy about his appearance.

“Aaron,” you sing, “I’m waiting for –,” your jaw drops mid-sentence when Aaron appears in the doorway.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out before you can stop yourself, eyes widening at the sight of the gorgeous man in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, crossing over to you, searching your face for any ounce of reprieve.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you’re quick to reply, standing from your leaning position to meet him, holding out your hands.

He takes them in his own, cocking his head slightly, his soft hazel eyes boring into yours.

You shift forward, moving up on your toes to peck his soft pink lips.

He sighs into the kiss, feeling the warmth of your lips against his own. It feels so good that it almost makes him forget about how he is feeling… almost. But the dark thoughts come back, and he pulls away from you a bit, reluctantly.

Aaron clears his throat.

“You called me?” He questions, but it sounds more like a fact.

“Yeah,” you give his hands a squeeze. “I needed you to zip up my dress, but now,” you lean in again, “I kinda want you to rip it off me.” You offer him a sultry smirk, moving your hands up to rest on his broad chest. He moves his hands to settle on your hips.

You lick your lips and let your eyes rake over his body, taking in every ounce of his sexy frame. The way his crisp, white dress shirt hugs his solid body makes you go weak in the knees. His strong, toned legs in those black dress pants? Yes please. His soft black hair and salt and pepper stubble on his face are practically begging to be touched. He looks good. Damn good.

“You look…” you pause, tapping a finger lightly against his pectoral, searching for the right word, “…delicious.”

Aaron blushes lightly at your ogling, offering you a sad smile as he squeezes his eyes shut out of embarrassment.

You sense the falter in his demeanor, knowing that there’s something else nagging at him far beyond his usual flustering when you vocalize your attraction to him.

“Honey,” you implore, looping your hands around his neck to bring his forehead down to touch yours. “What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, swallowing, rubbing soft circles into your sides.

“It’s something,” you counter, carding a hand through his hair at the nape of his neck. You scratch lightly at his scalp, waiting for him to speak. You’ve learned that the best thing to do when Aaron gets in a mood is to give him some time to gather his thoughts. Keeping him close, physically, is a way to show him some comfort without pressuring him to speak. It encourages him, without words, that your arms are a safe place.

“I don’t…” he starts, and then stops himself. His dark eyebrows furrow and his mouth presses into a thin line.

“Mhm?” you question, fingers still tangled in his thick, black locks.

He pulls his forehead away from yours and locks eyes with you. You let your hands be still now, a silent gesture to show him that you’re listening.

He takes in a breath.

“I don’t look the way I used to,” he says quietly, shifting his eyes away from yours.

“What do you mean,” you urge him to continue.

“I mean, I don’t look like I did five years ago. Two years ago. Four months ago. I mean, I was practically a different man when we first met. I was younger, fitter…” he trails off, visibly upset.

“Yes, Aaron, you were,” you agree, keeping your tone temperate.

His eyes snap to yours, confused. It’s clear that was not what he was expecting you to say.

“You were a different man,” you continue gently, resuming your pacifying touch in his hair, “and I was a different woman.”

Aaron lets out a huff.

“Do you love me any less now than you did five years ago?” You ask him.

“Of course not,” he’s quick to answer.

“Why is that?” You prod.

“You’re gorgeous, inside and out. You’re funny, smart, loving…” he begins, but you interrupt him before he can go on.

“And,” you butt in, “if I were to go completely grey, gain thirty pounds, and only wear a potato sack to work every day would you love me any less?”

Aaron huffs again, but this time he’s fighting a smile. He’s starting to catch on. You watch as a spark of levity returns to his eyes. He holds you a little tighter.

“No. There’s nothing you could do or say to make me love you any less,” he grumbles in annoyance, but his upturned lip and matching eyebrow tell a different story.

“Ditto, baby,” you smile up at him. “I love you at any age, any day, anywhere, and there is nothing in the world that can make me change my mind.”

He dips down then, capturing you in a kiss, grinning against your lips.

You giggle as Aaron works his way down your jawline and neck, gasping as he kisses the soft skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, thick fingers gripping the sides of your hips. He moves his lips back up to your earlobe, nipping at it lightly as you let out another soft gasp.

“You always know the right thing to say,” he whispers into your ear, pressing another kiss right underneath it.

“Aaron, I know I said I wanted you to take this dress off me,” you say breathlessly as Aaron nips at your shoulder again, “but Rossi will kill us if we don’t show up tonight. Plus, I really want the chance to show off my super sexy FBI husband. It’s been far too long.”

He lets out a low groan into your skin and gives your hips a squeeze, nuzzling his head into your neck.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “you’re right.”

“Aren’t I always,” you snort, eliciting a chuckle from your husband as you turn around in his arms to let him zip you up.

He takes his time, letting his fingers brush lightly over your spine as he draws the zipper over your back. When he’s done and the clasp is latched, he kisses one shoulder lightly, and then the other.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning back against his warm body.

“No, honey,” he kisses the top of your head, “thank you.”

_____________________________________________________________

By the time you and Aaron arrive at Rossi’s mansion, the party is already in full swing. Judging by the number of cars in the makeshift parking lot on his spacious front lawn, there must be at least fifty, maybe even a hundred people here.

Despite the bustle of the evening, it doesn’t take long for you two to find Emily, Penelope, and Derek in the living room, drinks in hand, snacking on some very expensive looking food.

“Hey, look! It’s the Hotchners!” Emily cheers, teetering on the arm of the leather couch, wine glass in hand.

“Hello beautiful BAU power-couple!” Penelope chimes in from the seat next to her, cuddled up into Derek’s side.

You laugh and let go of Aaron’s hand, walking over to greet your friends.

“Hey hot stuff, look at you, look at you!” Derek chimes in, eyeing you up and down before standing to shake Aaron’s hand.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes at him as you give Emily a big hug.

“And you don’t look bad yourself, boss man!” Derek adds.

You shoot your husband an ‘I told you so’ look over your shoulder, before untangling your arms from Emily and giving Penelope an equally enthusiastic squeeze.

“It’s good to see you all,” Aaron smiles lightly, all dimples in the low light. He steps in to give Emily and Penelope soft hugs.

“Let’s go get you a drink,” Derek says to Aaron, clapping him on the back.

“White?” Aaron looks to you, even though he already knows the answer.

“Yes please,” you respond, “thank you.”

“Be back soon,” he smiles easily, kissing your cheek, making your heart ache.

Aaron and Derek turn and exit the room together.

Penelope drunkenly pats the seat next to her, and you plop down on the couch.

“We’ve missed you like this!” Emily exclaims, gesturing between the three of you and around the room. “I can’t believe we’ve had to wait nine whole months plusanother four just to have a drink with our best friend again.”

You laugh at her, tilting your head back lightly. “Well, you guys got a beautiful little niece out of it, doesn’t that make up for all the wild girl’s nights I missed?”

Emily sighs, dramatically, “I guess so,” she jests.

“Oh, for sure.” Penelope adds. “You look freaking gorgeous, by the way. I mean, I would have never guessed you were creating a tiny human in that body only a few months ago!”

You blush lightly at her words, “You flatter me far too much, Pen. I owe this,” you gesture down at your figure, “all to Spanx!”

“Amen!” Emily toasts. You raise an imaginary glass to theirs and pretend to clink, taking a swig of invisible liquid.

“Are J.J. and Will here?” You ask them after they’ve had a few more sips of their wine.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emily nods, “they’re around somewhere.”

You take a moment and look around the room, taking in all the sights and the sounds of the party. You see some faces you recognize from around the bureau, but others you don’t. Just as you’re about to turn back to your friends, someone catches your eye. One face stands out from the crowd: he’s a young, suave-looking man in a sharp navy suit. Sandy hair perfectly gelled, shiny brown loafers, and bright blue eyes looking right at you. In another life you would have been exhilarated by his attention, apparent charm, and good looks, but now? Now, you’re married to the love of your life with an amazing stepson and a wonderful baby girl. His wolfish gaze means absolutely nothing to you. You simply flash him a curt smile and turn back to Emily and Penelope without a second thought.

You and your friends resume your chatter, waiting for the men to return with more drinks... only they don’t. Perhaps its “new mother anxiety” talking, but the longer your husband is gone, the more you start to grow concerned. A few more minutes pass of antics, laughter, and catching up until the nagging voice in the back of your head turns into an all-out scream. All you know is that you’re suddenly feeling very overwhelmed need to be with Aaron. So, you announce to your friends that you’re going to hunt down Derek and your husband.

You stand from the couch and smooth out the skirt of your dress with the promise to be back in a few minutes.

You walk out of the living room and into the grand foyer, following the same route as Aaron had earlier. Your black kitten heels click on the marble flooring, the skirt of your dress swishing lightly as you walk with purpose towards the kitchen. You’re so concentrated on reaching your destination that you don’t realize the man who had been watching you in the living room was now hot at your heels, following you through the house. It’s only when a hand reaches out and jerks your arm backward that you stop, startled, just past the grand staircase, turning face to face with him.

“You’re not an easy woman to get alone,” he smirks, reeking of alcohol, still gripping your arm, tight. Up close he is decidedly not as handsome as the low light of the living room made him seem. In fact, he seems… creepy. Really, really, really, creepy.

“Can I help you?” You blink at him, pulling your arm out of his vice grip.

“You sure can, baby,” he steps closer to you, voice oozing with sleaze. You gag at the liquor on his breath.

Moving away, you scowl at him, crossing your arms across your chest.

“What’s say you and I head upstairs for a little while? I’m dying to get my hands on your body.” He jerks his head toward the staircase, reaching out to grab your arm again.

You’re fuming at this point, ready give him a piece of your mind when a stern voice beats you to it.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” Aaron articulates, approaching you both with Derek not far behind.

You breathe a sigh of relief as your husband glares at the drunken man vengefully, coming to stand by your side. Aaron pulls you into him, roughly, hand tight around your waist. The anger radiating off your husband is equally terrifying and HOT.

“Take a walk, man,” Derek adds in, coming to stand next to the drunken asshole. The man looks from you, to Aaron, then over to Derek, and finally back at you.

“Whatever,” the man grumbles, putting his hands up, “she’s not worth it anyway. Not pretty enough for the hassle. I just thought she looked like an easy lay.”

“That’s enough,” Aaron snaps, seething. “Leave now, before I make you,” your husband growls. He angles his body forward so you’re slightly behind him. A shiver passes through you at his fierce protectiveness.

“Fine, I’m going to get another drink,” the man utters.

“No,” Aaron interjects, “the party. Leave the party or I’ll have you removed.”

“What’s your problem?” The creepy man retorts, this time, more confrontationally.

“My problem?” Aaron says, angrily. You feel his entire body tense at the accusation.

“Hotch,” Derek warns, “I’ll take care of it. You guys go enjoy yourselves. Forget about him.”

“Come on, Aaron,” you tug on his suit jacket lightly, eyes pleading… but Aaron doesn’t budge from his spot. He only holds you tighter as he continues to stare down the man as Derek ushers him away and towards the front door. He doesn’t falter until they are out of sight.

“Aaron?” You repeat.

He looks down at you, finally, blinking away the fury until all that’s left is an all-consuming love. He releases you from his protective hold, and you face him.

“I’m okay,” you assure him in earnest, letting out a shaky breath.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” he breathes, bringing his hands up to cup your face.

“Aaron, it’s okay, really,” you bite your lip, shifting your eyes away from his.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron kisses your forehead, and then the top of your head. “So, so beautiful, and I’m so sorry.”

“Aaron, can we just go home?” You ask.

“Sure,” he kisses your head one last time before weaving his fingers between yours and guiding you gently toward the back exit.

_____________________________________________________________

The car ride home is quiet. The only sounds are the occasional click of the turn signal, and the hum of the wheels on the road. Aaron is still upset, and so are you, but you’re also… something else. Something you can’t quite put your finger on. You feel guilty for ruining the evening, guilty that you FEEL guilty for something you had no control over, hungry, tired, and… horny? Oh, and guilty for feeling horny.

It isn’t helping that one of Aaron’s hands is planted firmly on your thigh. He lifts it only to adjust the air conditioning or to scratch his nose, but otherwise it remains on you the whole way home. When he pulls into the driveway of your shared house, and shuts the car off, he still doesn’t move it.

“Honey?” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are closed. You take in the strong features of his profile, noting the prominence of his nose and the way his eyelashes rest on his high cheekbones.

“I almost punched him.” Aaron whispers, opening his eyes to look over at you sheepishly.

“You what,” you exhale, mouth slightly agape.

“That guy,” he continues, bringing his left hand up to pinch his nose. “I almost punched him for saying that about you.”

You snort, amused by his confession.

Your husband lets out a short laugh, squeezing your thigh as he does.

“I would’ve liked to see that.” You’re grinning now and so is he.

He flashes his eyes at you and laughs again, this time less anxiously. You join him, feeling the tension dissipate with every passing moment.

“My big, bad FBI man decking a barely-legal drunk dickhead for making a move on his wife? Where can I get my tickets?” You joke.

As you say the words “his wife,” Aaron’s breath hitches in his throat. His hand on your thigh presses down instinctively. Neither of his reactions go unnoticed.

You lay a hand over his where it rests on your leg.

“You know, Aaron,” you begin.

He looks over at you, jaw tight, but this time it isn’t from anger.

“This is the first time we’ve had the house all to ourselves in months,” you pull his hand off you and bring it up to your lips. You press a kiss to his palm, and then to his wrist.

“This… is true,” he breathes out, studying you, taking you in.

“So, I’m just wondering:” you grin, linking your fingers with his, “are you going to carry your wife into our house, Aaron? Or do I have to walk myself?”

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justagirlsearchingforamuse · 3 years

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If you are still taking nsfw requests, could you please write Heisenburg having some 'alone time' with himself?

"Hmm ... yeah this will have to work ... running out of options because of that stupid man Ethan Winters. The man is nothing but trouble. ... I was a fool to consider trying to work with the clown." Karl growled in a ragged breath, his hands were pressed into his messy cluttered desk and he stood slightly hunched over his desk with his eyes staring at the revised plan he had. He stared over the plan once more, he'd have to either get rid of Ethan or let him do all his dirty work and then finish him off once more. As he slumps into his chair, a heavy sigh leaves his lips at once and he takes his old tethered hat off, he's quite surprised he hasn't lost the beloved accessory. Sitting it down on his disorganized desk with papers, photos, and crumbled pieces of paper he lets a heavy breath leave his lips and tries to let peace rest in his old factory and within his soul. The sound of machinery working actively, metals bumping into other metals and the scent of dust and metal lays heavy in the air. He liked his factory. Just the way it was. Messy. Dirty. Dusty. He loved it, it was his own little home and his place to truly be himself and truly allowed to be vulnerable without the worry of being seen as weak. As inadequate, he runs his thick fingers through his straight dark grey hair, pushing some hair out of his face as he listens to the machines, the huffing, and the metals clanking together and it reminds me of something he's tried so damn hard to forget. You.

He enjoyed and relished being alone, he was in his element, he was allowed to be vulnerable but there was that soft aching in his soul that missed your soft humming or missed hearing you enter his factory. He missed the smell of you, it was warm and so heavenly to his nostrils, when you would bother trying to clean up his cluttered mess and he would try and excuse it. Try and get you to stop. Damn, did he miss you. He sits up straight in his chair, his finger rests upon his bottom lip as he forces and pushes thoughts of you out of his head, he can't bear to think about you, he can't bear to be weak again after what you did to him. "fuck" he mutters in a swift breath as his hands cover his face, he buries his face in his hands as he finds getting rid of you is like getting rid of gnats, nearly fucking impossible. He lets out an agitated sigh, nearly growling to himself before his eyes lay heavy on his desk, still cluttered and messy once again he decides to at least get rid of some of his failed plans. As he begins to grab at a few crumpled up paper balls, he suddenly stops and another sigh leaves his lips, he stops as rushed words leave his lips. "what the fuck am I doing?" he mutters as he began to try and put things back where they were, his hands moved too quickly and suddenly a photo falls onto the floor. It's a polaroid, he twists in his chair and picks up the photo and his eyes harden at the sight of what he tries and tried so desperately to forget. To leave behind. His eyes meet the sight of your face, you took what Americans call a "selfie", a short yet soft chuckle leaves his lips at your weird slang and your way with words was so unique. You smile warmly at the camera, a natural smile suits you perfectly and the light in your eyes, the natural warmth that flushed your skin, everything about you reminded him of what he lost. The family he lost. He missed what he used to once be, human. Humans have freedom, are free to be whoever and do whatever they want but a cruel bitch with selfish intentions and a knack for kidnapping took that away from him.

His face softens at your picture, he remembers your laughter echoing through the room so beautiful and unique to his ears, how you would sit on his lap and tease him with your smile, he remembers so much about you. He remembers you. He remembers the day you left, bitterness on your tongue, sharp anger in your veins and you left with horror, with tears and with nothing but pain striking your face. He hurt you. In return you left him, you left him all alone with nothing but his so-called "family". He wants to rip up your picture, burn it and spit on the image he once treasured so dearly but all he can do is look at what memory he has of you. "Damn, you don't know how much ... how much I miss you ..." Karl whispers, a deep frown curls onto his lips and he can memorize and almost catch your voice in his ears. His throat begins to get tight and his lips try to tremble and quiver before, he buries his teeth in his tongue and inhales a sharp breath to stop himself from being too ... open. He exhales slowly and sets your picture down on the desk once more, he slumps back in his chair, and memories of you circle and float around in his head. "Come on ... forget her, she fucking left you." He mutters and murmurs to himself in a whisper, sighing once again as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, he keeps repeating "forget her, fuck her" almost like a mantra. But it doesn't fucking work. Especially when he finds himself pitching a tent, his pants become tighter and not as loose as he prefers them to be, he lets out a little more than agitated growl from his lips at the sight. Clicking his tongue, he decides that maybe he can turn this into just another jerk-off session that is nothing more than that, he sets your picture up on a coffee cup he has and lets it sit there right in view. His tongue swirls around his lips as he unzips his pants, he slips his hand in his boxers and lets his eyes rest as he wraps his hand around his firm thick semi-hard cock. He lightly squeezes at the organ, causing him to let out a swift breath at the sensation before leaning back just slightly more, grinding his teeth into his bottom lip he begins to gradually move his hand up and down his cock. "Damn ... kinda sensitive, huh?" Karl says in a slow ragged breath, his voice rumbles, and echoes through the factory.

He wants to rush into it, he wants to imagine you with your tongue down his throat, hands exploring his body and he could imagine your chuckles after he rips off your clothes. "Fuck ..." Karl whispers, his eyebrows furrow at images of you that flash in his mind, the things he's done to you, the sheer pleasure that he's given you has him squeezing his fully erect cock. His fingers travel to the head of his cock, he squeezes at the sensitive area causing a ragged deep growl to leave his parted lips, pleasure pulsates through him and leaves him almost like putty in his hand. He swallows thickly and inhales once again, his hand begins to slowly travel up and down his thick meaty cock that pulsates, eagerly. Heavy ragged breaths leave his lips, his eyes are closed, almost like he's relaxed and at ease with his hand shoved down his pants and his mind focused on the aching problem in between his thighs. When his hand travels to the head of his cock, his thumb moves in circles around the head, slow agonizing circles that leave him almost gasping for air at the throbbing sensations that travel through him. "Damn ..." Karl groans deeply, a ragged breath soon follows as he spreads his legs wider, his hand travels up and down his throbbing hard cock, heavy ragged breaths are all that leave his lips. "Shit ... shit ..." He breaths out heavily, he whines and it fills his throat and the factory he resides in, echoing heavily through the room before a deep breath leaves his lips. "Get the fuck outta the way," Karl whispers to himself, he pushes his pants down to his ankles and his cock isn't restrained by his pants, his hand moves to his cock once again and continues to gently stroke his throbbing cock that now leaks with precum. "Gah ..." Karl gasps, burying his teeth into his bottom lip as heat begins to flood into his being, his heart throbs and pulsates in his chest, and arousal pulses through him, leaving him aching for sweet release. Hot damn ...

"Yeah, remember how you used to just worship me ... do you remember how much of a masochist you were? That look on your face though ... whenever I had you tied up and at my mercy or ... whenever you needed to be punished ... oh damn ..." Karl rambles to himself, his words are slurred and his thoughts of full of nothing but you, he remembers how you used to tease him away from his work and how good you were at making him hard in mere moments. His cock pulsates in his hand at the thought of you and he decides to kick it up a notch, his hand begins to move at a slightly quicker pace as it travels up and down his throbbing meaty cock. His cock leaks with precum that travels down the head of his cock, his thumb quickly moves against the sensitive head, rubbing and massaging that sensitive area causing sharp waves of ecstasy to rush through him. He licks his lips and a wide toothy grin curls onto his lips, a light chuckle follows soon after as short and breathless moans leave his parted lips, the heat that was once warm gets hotter and it travels throughout his body. "Yeah, you remember that. You can't forget how good my cock felt down that tight throat of yours, how you savored my seed obediently ... haah ... damn." Karl rambles once more, imagining as though you were listening to him, what follows after his words are heavy breathless moans that are pried from his lips. He uses his other hand to clutch the chair's arms as his hand eagerly strokes and massages his cock aching in between his legs. "Ah ..." Karl moans deeply, a growl at the end of that moan as he can ecstasy pulsate through him, his body throbs with arousal and aching as he selfishly takes care of himself. He was getting close.

The heat that was hot as hell was now boiling inside of him, running his hands through his hair he wraps both of his hands around his cock, eager to taste his release quicker as his face twists at the waves and waves of ecstasy that travels through him. He clenches his teeth and his eyes are closed tightly, heavy ragged raspy breaths leave his lips followed by low growls of your name that he repeated like a mantra. "Oh, fuck ...! Oh, baby ... don't you miss me? Don't you miss how I used to fuck you ... nice and hard, all night fucking long and I still have your marks on my back." He rambles in a series of heavy breaths that clouded his throat, he begins to fist his cock swift and severely as sharp powerful waves of bliss washed over him in heavy waves of heat. "Oh, fuck! Shit! Oh, shit ...!, Baby, I want you so bad ... I want you here with me ... your lips wrapped around my cock or maybe you would want to ... want to be on your back like a dog. Eager for my cock, eager to get pounded into the mattress." Karl rambles once again, a smile is curled onto his lips as he is so eager to chase after a high, eager to chase after whatever he was deluding himself into that had him believing you were there. "Oh, shit! Goddamn ...!" Karl pants out, his breaths become raspy and sound like a growl at the end of each moan that falls from his lips. His throat is tight and struggling to keep oxygen in it, heat boils within him and he's just so enamored with the thought of you and you're not even there. Clenching his teeth, he begins to drive his hips into his tight fist, his hand swiftly stroking his throbbing hard cock as he throws his head back. Waves after waves of ecstasy travel and burst through him, the ecstasy is strong, merciless, and unforgiving and he fucking loves it so much. Oh, what you do to him ...

"Shit, baby ... I'm gonna ... I'm gonna come ... gonna come so fuckin' hard. I love you ... I love you ..." Karl rambles out in heavy ragged breaths as he continues to vigorously fist his throbbing meaty cock, his breaths are caught in the middle of his throat and when it hits him his entire body disobeys him. His body jerks, almost jumps at the tides of bliss that flood through him and he reaches his boiling point, his stomach coils and he bites at his tongue enough to make himself bleed as thick ropes of semen land onto his shirt. "Fuck, (Y/N) ...! Oh ..." He whines deeply, his hand continues to vigorously stroke his cock, shorter ropes of cum spurt onto his shirt as he desperately tries to feel more. To see you again. He'll never admit that. Never let his mind admit because he's a stubborn bastard but there's that thought in his head, he was wondering if you would've said "I love you". He wondered if you would've just smiled at him and left him again, when he catches his breath a bitter taste hits his tongue, and memories of your time together hits him like a pile of bricks. Fuck, all he wanted was to forget you. Forget that you brought him up just to leave him when he needed you most. His eyes open and he inhales a shaky breath through his nostrils, pain weighed heavy on him and that's all he can think of. The pain. Your last words. The tears. He remembers you.

#resident evil smut #resident evil 8 #karl heisenburg #karl heisenberg x reader #re: village #smut

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sundaysundaes · 3 years

Text

Our First Time

Mark Lee X Reader, ft. Johnny | Smut, Fluff | 4.6k | College AU

Summary: Considering your boyfriend never dares to take the initiative to go further than your usual make-out sessions, you have to do the part to actually be in charge of the relationship.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, Mark Lee losing his virginity while being extremely awkward and utterly cute about it, oral sex, fingering, failed fluff (idk man this is just basically me being a thirsty hoe over morkly)

“Remember the suit you wore when we went to your aunt’s wedding?”

Your boyfriend, who has been together with you for almost a year by now, hums in response, not really giving you any glance as he’s busy tapping his pen to his lips, thinking about writing the next lyric for the song he’s composing. Mark Lee has his chest pressed against his acoustic guitar, his hair’s a bit messy and slightly parted to the side, showing his forehead. Considering how close he’s sitting on the floor next to you, you can tell how half of the collar of his washed-out denim jacket stands up, brushing against the end of his dark hair.

“Yeah, what about it?” He continues asking when he notices that you’re waiting for a proper answer. He slips his guitar pick back between his fingers and tries a few chords to match his lyrics.

“I just dreamt about you fucking me from behind while wearing that suit.”

Mark strums his guitar too hard out of shock, making his instrument flies away from his lap, hitting the marbled floor with a sudden loud noise.

“What?”

Still having your head pressed against the table with your right cheek glued to your abandoned college papers, you flatly repeat, “I dreamt about you fucking—”

Mark stands up so fast, you can tell he’s having a slight headache because of it. “No. No. I heard what you said, I just—” It’s a fact that Mark blushes rather easily, but he has never blushed this hard before. “What—why—telling me so suddenly like this—you’re—”

“Mark, you’re rambling.”

“Why are you so calm about it?!” He walks away to pick up his guitar, unconsciously stomping a little bit like a fuming child as he does so. “And why are you lazing around like that? Didn’t you have some assignments to do?”

You finally straighten yourself up, looking at the textbooks you need to read and suddenly feeling like you’re dyslexic from birth. “I dozed off a bit, I guess. I just woke up from that dream where—”

“OKAAAAYYYYY!” Mark scrambles back to your side, crossing his legs and shushing you down by covering your head with your hood until you can barely see anything. The grey hoodie you’re wearing—his hoodie, actually—is already oversized when Mark is wearing it, so it’s basically a dress when you’re wearing it and the hood is big enough to cover your entire head.

You pull your hood away, your hair looking like a mess and by then Mark still has his cheeks rosy from your words and you wonder, whether it really was too much to talk about with your boyfriend?

You have never been the one who gets easily embarrassed about sexual stuff—or about anything really, because you’re a pretty blunt person. It’s his job to get embarrassed about things—even the ones that came out from his own mouth. Mark can be so confident and so awkward at the same time that it doesn’t make sense but you find him to be cute that way.

“Mark.”

“If you’re going to talk about that dream again, I am going to yank my hair out of my head.”

“But—“

“And I’m going to yank your hair out of your head.”

“But then we’re both be bald.”

“That will be your fault.”

You huff, unconsciously pouting, before you finally let go and head back to your papers. You try to hold your concentration longer than a few minutes, but when you hear Mark going back to his guitar, humming a few notes here and there, you just give up because there’s no way you’re going to finish your thesis when your boyfriend is singing so angelically like that.

“New song?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Thanks. It still feels a bit weird on some parts though, but—” Mark stops talking when you walk on all fours toward him, pushing the guitar out of his hands and crawl onto his lap. “Babe?”

You sink your face against the crook of his neck, hands going down and circle their way around his back. “Ssshh,” you say, exhaling all of his scents and thanking whoever it is that invented his perfume because goddamn, Mark smells like cinnamon and chocolate and everything that is good in this world. “I’m out of battery. I need to re-charge.”

Mark spends two seconds in silence before he blurts out laughing, “What are you even saying?” He protests but doesn’t push you away. Instead, he rests his chin on your shoulder and cuddles you closer into his chest.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs, almost lazily as if he’s a few seconds away from sleeping. You answer by placing a peck on his neck which makes him jolt a little in surprise but not breaking away. The silence between you two is comforting but the way Mark’s jeans are pressing against your bare thighs is not so you move around, trying to find the most perfect comfort zone on his lap—not knowing that it is becoming a new kind of torture for your boyfriend. It’s until you feel something growing underneath you that you begin to halt your movements.

“Mark—”

“I know, don’t say it—”

“You’re kinda… hard.”

“I said, don’t—” He lets out a whine, slamming his temple against your shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry, but you keep moving your butt and it feels like you’re not wearing any pants—“

“I am not wearing any pants.”

“Fuck.” Mark is not the kind of man who curses a lot—he only does it when he’s surprised or when he panics as he tries to process what he’s saying next, so the fact that he’s cursing now can mean he’s feeling one of those things or both or for a whole other reason.

“I mean,” you try to explain, “I’m not trying to seduce you or anything. It’s just your hoodie is way too big for me so I thought why bother? It’s not like we’re going somewhere. We’re just hanging out in my bedroom after all.”

“Oh my God,” Mark groans, throwing his head back as he leans against your bed. “Just give me some time to calm down.”

He really looks like he’s trying to will his boner to go away, what with the way he furrows his eyebrows and keeps his eyes tightly closed in concentration. Mark is too much of a gentleman to ask for your help but you’re willing so it’s more like he’s giving one by providing the chance for you to ravage him.

Just gotta play it cool, though.

And by cool, you mean pressing your palm against his groin when he’s not expecting.

“Yo, what!” He jumps like a scared little cat and honestly, he’s too cute—so utterly cute—that you begin to lean up and kiss him square on the lips. “Mmph!” His protest is muffled by your mouth and the way you entangle your fingers around the back of his hair, pulling him close. He stiffens for a few seconds before he finally lets go, melting into the kiss and you know the next one is going to be your favourite part.

See, the thing with Mark is, he acts shy and awkward most of the time but when the moment is right, he can be passionate about things. Like when he’s playing music. Or writing his raps during his free time.

Or kissing you.

“Mark—“ It’s funny that you initiated this, but it’s you who’s losing your breath. Mark takes your hand when you’re about to fall off his lap, pulling you with enough force to make you tumble back to his chest, and slips his tongue inside your mouth as you gasp. His kisses are deep and fast, almost like he’s in a hurry to kiss you before you disappear from his life forever. You never peg yourself to act like a thirteen-year-old virgin—because you’re certainly not—but when Mark kisses you like this, you feel like you’re acting worse than that.

You can feel one of his hands on your thigh, holding you tight to the point it feels like it’s going to bruise. You push his denim jacket off his shoulders when he kisses your neck, lips hovering hot against your sensitive spot, making you say his name in the tone you’ve never made before.

“You,” Mark whispers between kisses, “have got,” another kiss, his teeth nibbling against your bottom lip, “to stop teasing me like this.” Another slip of his tongue, meeting yours for a split second before he breaks off the kiss. “Or else, I’ll go crazy. I am going crazy because of you.”

“Then why are you stopping?” You ask, breathing a little bit heavier. You cup one of his cheeks, leaning up to kiss him again but he pulls away, hesitating. “Mark?”

“I don’t think we should go any further.”

“You don’t?” You grind your hips against him again and his lips part slightly, trying his best to contain his moan. “Even though you’re this excited?”

“That—” He hisses, gripping hips with both hands to keep you still. “Stop it, you’re not being fair.”

“I’m being honest,” you correct him. “What’s wrong? What’s stopping you? What did I do wrong?”

You can tell he feels sorry for making you feel like this and he’s really contemplating whether he should tell you the real reason or not, so you squeeze his hand and smile at him. “Let me know, please?”

He licks his bottom lip nervously before he sighs. “It’s dumb but…” He looks away, trying to hide his face but you see how the tips of his ears are turning scarlet. “You’re Haechan’s ex and I know he can be a little bit, umm… wild.”

It takes a few seconds for you to process. “So you’re afraid that you’re going to be worse than him in bed?”

“No, I mean—“ He seems frustrated and ashamed, like a child being caught with his hand in a cookie jar. “Okay, yes, I guess you’re right. I am. But it’s more than that.”

The way he fidgets and rambles is just so cute—everything about him is cute—but you never say that out loud because he hates being called cute. He always says you’re cuter than him. “Mark, I don’t care about what happened with me and Haechan. I’m dating you now, aren’t I? You’re being jealous over nothing.”

The way he pouts indicates that he doesn’t particularly agree with your words, but he lets it go. “Well, there’s also one other thing.”

“What thing?”

“You know,” he shrugs, hiding his doe eyes behind his bangs. “That thing.”

“What? What is it? What thing?” Then you open your mouth in realisation. “Oh Mark, baby, I don’t care if you have a small dick. Size doesn’t matter.”

“What—NO!” He shrieks, face in flame. “I mean, not that I regularly measure it and compare it to other guys—I have never even seen another guy’s dick—not that I want to—”

“Mark, you’re rambling again.”

“I DON’T HAVE A SMALL DICK!” He exclaims and you hold back a laugh when he adds in a murmur, “At least I don’t think I have.”

“Okay, my bad.” You massage his shoulders, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Then what is it?”

Another silence, then. “I’ve never done this before.”

“What, sex?”

He weakly nods, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip worriedly, and you feel something warm growing inside your chest. The fact that he’s never been with anyone suddenly becomes the highlight of your life, and if you can be his first then you can just die from happiness by the end of the day.

But it’s because of this very reason, that you have to become very careful.

“Okay, then, let’s just take it slow?” You offer and he seems conflicted about his own expression. Part of him looks relieved but the other part of him looks disappointed.

“Why do I feel like we have our roles in reverse?” He asks, somewhat annoyedly, as you settle yourself better in his lap. You let out a small chuckle in response. “Also, your brother is downstairs.”

“He has his AirPods on.”

“How do you know he has his AirPods on?”

“Johnny always has his AirPods on.”

“But—”

“Mark,” you whisper, closing your eyes as the tip of your nose touching his, “Don’t you want me?”

He lets out a shaky breath, having a hard time trying not to stare at your lips that are becoming even more irresistible by the second. “You don’t even know how much I want you.”

“Then just let go. Just give in, Mark.” You press your temple against his and within this close proximity, his scent is intoxicatingly amazing.

“Okay,” he finally whispers back, but since he still sounds somewhat unsure, you add, “Look, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Just stop me whenever it gets too uncomfortable for you, okay?”

“Okay now we seriously have our roles in reverse. Should I be handing my dick to you now? I think you’ll make better use of it.”

“That sounds like a great idea only if it’s possib—” The rest of your words is replaced with a yelp when Mark suddenly pushes you down onto your back, your head hitting the floor too hard and now he’s yelping.

“Oh, shit—fuck!” He scrambles with his words and with his hands, trying to help you get up and check on your condition at the same time. “I’m so sorry! I was trying to be sexy and be in control or something like that—shit, it just looks way better in my head—I—Why are you laughing?!“

You can’t help it. This is all too ridiculous. Almost refreshing for you, even. You never compared Mark with your ex-boyfriend Haechan before because Mark is way, way better than he’s ever going to be but you remember that with Haechan, things were wild. So wild, that you constantly got caught off guard, not having enough time to focus on your feelings or your own pleasure and just fulfilling his, and his only. With Mark, you feel like you have so much more to give. So much more new experience. So much laughter. So much fun.

“Oh my God, Mark,” you cackle, wiping away some tears from your eyes, “I love you, but if you don’t stop acting so cute, I am going to ravish you myself.”

“What?”

You blink in realisation. “Sorry, that was too much.”

“No, not that.” He knits his eyebrows together. “You love me?”

You feel your heart drops to your stomach. You can’t believe you just said that. It’s not like you didn’t mean it—of course, you mean it. But you’ve tried your best to wait so you can hear him say it first. You are a woman, after all. And to think that you just said it randomly at times like this? After your boyfriend knocked your head against the floor for trying to be sexy? Not really the way you imagined it to be, that’s for sure.

“Umm,” you fondle the hem of your—his—hoodie. Great, now you’re nervous. Suddenly, those papers you have scattered on your table don’t look so bad. “You’re right, I do have some assignments to do. I’ll just get back to—“

Mark grabs your hand, holding you right on your spot. “You love me?”

You can practically hear your own heartbeat in your ears and it’s really fast. “My thesis—”

“Babe, I need to hear you say it.” The way his doe eyes are holding yours seems unfamiliar. His gaze is firm, unfaltering, and you give in because what else can you do? It’s really how you feel after all.

“I love you, Mark.” You can hear the shyness in your own voice and you curse inwardly because where did your confidence go? You were acting so superior before!

Mark doesn’t say a word and when you feel like dying is a better option than standing awkwardly in front of your attractive boyfriend after your stupid unplanned confession, he suddenly lifts your entire body with both hands and lays you down on the bed.

“Mark—“

He kisses you like he needs it to keep himself alive, and you find yourself closing your eyes shut, moulding your lips against his until you can taste the mint flavour from the candy he ate earlier. He tangles his fingers around your locks, the other hand cupping your cheek to angle your face better so he can kiss you deeper. You can’t help but to arch yourself closer to him, chest meeting chest, hips against hips. You can no longer tell whether the moans come from you or him but everything feels hot and going so fast, like you’re free-falling from a skyscraper.

Perhaps he feels the same way because he gradually slows his pace until he finally parts his lips from you. One look at your disheveled face and messy lipstick smeared from your mouth to your cheek, and he goes back to staring at your lips again with want. He mutters, “Fuck” under his breath, almost inaudibly before he crashes his lips against yours, but slower this time, just carefully savouring every taste and breathing in every scent of you.

Mark pulls away only to grab the hem of his white Van Halen shirt, pulling it over his head and tosses it somewhere without care and you have to remind yourself to breathe because fuck me, that was hot. His hair’s a mess—even messier than before and you think that’s just as hot as he can get but then he pushes his hair back with his hand, forehead showing as it glistens with sweat, and says, “I’m not going to hold back anymore.”

Again, fuck me, that was hot.

Mark seems brave enough to finally just let go and consume you in the way he has been wanting to for a while, but you can tell he’s also nervous from the way he fumbles every now and then, especially when he tries to unhook your bra without looking. He has no problem tossing your—his—hoodie away, but when he keeps his eyes closed as he kisses you, it takes a good minute for him to finally unclasp your bra.

He’s momentarily in awe when your naked breasts come into view but he wastes no more time trying to please you with both his hands and his mouth.

It’s good. He’s good. If he’s this good his first time, you can’t wait to see what happens next. You’re too busy losing yourself in his touch until you feel his length pressing against your thigh. By instinct, you press it harder against his groin, eliciting a surprised moan from him.

Goddamn, why is he so hot?

That voice of his; you want to hear it more and more, so you bring his mouth back to yours, align your hips with his and unzip his jeans. Mark is swearing again, but the more he swears, the breathier he sounds and when you rub him over his underwear, his moans are delicious.

“Feels good?” You ask and he kinds of scowl at you because what do you think?

Surprisingly enough, he pushes your hand away from his crotch and when you raise an eyebrow asking why, he kisses your body lower and lower until his face is hovering above your panties.

“Mark,” you call out, “Don’t try to be sexy and pull my underwear down with your teeth or something. You haven’t reached that level yet.”

He responds by tickling you hard on the sides of your stomach and you almost kick him in the face from laughing beyond control.

After all joking has receded, Mark swallows his breath nervously and kisses you on the inside part of your thigh, slowly creeping down to your heat, mouthing against it from over the fabric.

“Want me to take it off?” He asks in the cockiest way you’ve ever seen him do and you wonder who’s the virgin one in this relationship.

“Depends. Do you want to have blue balls for the rest of your life?”

“I’m kidding, geez,” he says, chuckling a bit but it sounds more nervous and he probably is nervous since he’s never done anything like this before.

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” you assure him and he looks like he wants to retort with something clever and snarky but he also kind of needs your guidance so he keeps quiet and just pulls your underwear down and tosses it away.

Mark knows how to use his tongue, he just doesn’t know where he should use his tongue. That’s when your guidance comes handy, you suppose.

“A little bit lower, Mark.”

“Here?”

“Lower.”

“Umm… here?”

“Whoa, too low!” You spring up from the bed, pressing your thighs together so he won’t lick anywhere weird. “Okay, Mark, there’s my vagina and there’s my ass. Some girls like to have their asses eaten, but not me.”

“Right,” he says awkwardly, cheeks burning bright. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. Umm…” It’s so awkward and you both kind of just sit on the bed not knowing what to do so you ask, a bit unconvincingly, “Try again?”

To your surprise, Mark nods rather excitedly, like a child eager to learn and that’s cute and all but in this context? Not so much.

But wow, Mark learns fast.

It’s been more than a year since someone has touched you like this and it feels like it’s your first time again, so you’re quickly reduced to a whimpering mess when Mark kisses and flicks his tongue against your private part. And when he sucks at a particular spot, you’re practically screaming his name.

“S-sorry, did I hurt you?” He asks, pulling away, eyes shaking in concern.

“God, no.” You’re this close to shoving his face back to your crotch. “Don’t stop, Mark, please.”

“But if you’re in pain—“

“Mark,” you can practically feel your patience throwing itself out of the window. “If I’m in pain, I will kick you in the face or tell you to stop, so if I don’t do any of that, don’t fucking stop.”

You know you sound a bit desperate. Or a lot. But is there any girl out there who’s not going to sound this desperate when Mark Lee is using his mouth to utter nonsense when he just did a perfectly good job over there?

Lucky for you, Mark actually listens and doesn’t stop going even if you’re mewling his name, to the point of almost sobbing even, and continues to please you until your thighs begin to tremble in delight and you fall back to the bed with the biggest content sigh you’ve ever made in your entire life.

“How was it?” He asks with a little bit of teasing in his tone because he can see how good it was. You can tell he wants to hear you praise him.

“You, Mark Lee,” you breathe out, looking at him with stars in your eyes. “Are the most talented person in the world and I’m not just talking about your talent in music, but in everything.”

He chuckles. “That good?”

You pull him down by his belt, until his chest pressing against yours again. “That good,” you agree before you crash your mouth against his in the most consuming way you’ve ever kissed someone.

Mark eventually has his pants off and you switch positions when he’s finally stark naked. He’s so shy about the whole thing that he barely keeps eye contact with you, and he stutters hard, asking where the condom is when you begin to position yourself on top of him. You shake your head, telling him that you don’t have one and add, “Just tell me when you’re about to come so you can pull out just in time.”

Mark opens and closes his mouth like a fish gasping for air, probably about to protest but can’t come up with any better solution. Besides, he basically just throws everything out of the door when you sit down on his lap, your walls stretching against his length in one swift motion and he throws his head back.

“Fuck!” He breathes heavily, looking at you specifically at the part where you both are connected. “You’re wet—how are you so wet—and warm—oh my God—I’m—“

“You’re rambling again.” It’s the third time you said that to him in the last hour, which must have been some kind of a record. Not important right now, though. You’re focusing yourself to adapt to his length—because he’s nowhere small, it turns out—and slide up and down when it stings less.

“Okay, shit, wait—“ Mark sinks his nails on the sides of your hips, making you wince a little and he pulls back, muttering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I feel like I’m going crazy. Can we stop?”

“Too much?”

“Too much.”

You tease him by clenching your walls around him and he just groans loudly in the sexiest way you’ve ever heard a man groan. “Babe, please,” he begs, eyes half-lidded in lust. “You’re not being fair. It’s my first time.”

“So?” You can’t help it. You’re having so much fun. You rock your hips against him again and he just loses it. Mark grabs you by the waist, bringing you back down to the bed and muffle your laughter with his mouth.

“Since you can’t stop teasing me about it,” Mark says, spreading your legs apart by instinct and seeing him between your thighs is just the sexiest thing you’ve ever witnessed. “I’ll take control from here.”

Mark moves rather awkwardly, and sloppily from time to time but he is hitting the right spot. He’s too enthusiastic though, which doesn’t make him last long. He comes undone soon after, dripping liquid onto your stomach before your own orgasm can hit you but he doesn’t spend his time lying beside you on the bed. Instead, he quickly inserts one finger into you, then two, pumping in and out as he analyses your expression—making sure that he’s doing right and not hurting you in the process. You clutch your fingers around his bicep, urging him to go faster with your mouth parting halfway in pleasure and he smiles proudly at the sight. Smirking, he brings his mouth back to suck on whatever that is that makes you feel like the world is ending and you don’t fucking care because of Mark, oh yes, Mark!

When you’re done, he pulls his fingers out and licks the tips. He’s probably not trying to be sexy but more out of curiosity or just trying to imitate some dudes in those porn videos he watches from time to time, but goddamn, please do that again.

“Sorry for making such a mess,” he says, pushing the bangs out of your eyes, “I’ll go grab some tissues to clean you up—”

You bring him down to kiss him, senselessly, longingly, and languidly. Just enjoying the moment as you come down from your high. “You know,” you say, “I don’t know if I’m a good teacher, or you’re just one hell of a student, but that was amazing.”

Mark blushes but he grins like a child. “Am I better than Haechan?”

“I hate you for bringing him up because he no longer exists in my life but I bet my ass he’s never going to be as good as you. Our first time is ten times better than my last time with him.”

“You’re being honest?”

“Ten thousand percent.”

Mark plops down on the bed next to you, punching the air in a winning pose. “Hell yes!”

“Mark?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Let’s take a shower together. You see, practice makes perfect.”

As he’s busy trying to wash the blush away from his face, there’s a loud knocking sound coming from the other side of your door.

“Have you two bunnies done fucking each other’s brains out yet? I need to take my AirPods you borrowed.”

Mark stares at you in horror when you finally remember that you, indeed, borrowed Johnny’s AirPods this morning.

You begin to sweat. “Oops?”

***

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter three rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spiderman’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

Peter arrived at the Avengers tower with a little pep in his step. His new neighbor was on his mind and he couldn’t get her off. He knew it was a long shot, after all you’d only had one conversation, but he felt like there was a connection between you. You were awkward, he was awkward. What more does a relationship need?

Tony was quick to notice the change in Peters mood. A dreamy smile crept across his face every now and then while Tony was trying to explain something about his nanotechnology.

“Alright Underoos, whats on your mind? A girl? Boy? That gorgeous Aunt of yours? Oh wait no, that’s what’s on my mind.” Tony smirked, making a blush paint Peters cheeks.

“Nothing sir. Sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Peter answered quickly. Tony scanned Peter up and down skeptically.

“So its a girl. Alright. Who is she?” Tony asked, motioning for Peter to sit down with him.

“This girl moved in across the hall from me about a week ago. I’d see her on the stairs sometimes, or in the lobby. She’s beautiful, Mr. Stark. I mean, really beautiful. And I know girls are a lot more than their appearance, trust me, but I can never look away. It’s like God made a perfect batch of cookie dough, and then made a perfect cookie cutter, and then hand made her just for me. There’s just, there’s something about her. I feel like I’ve always known her, and I don’t even know her yet. She knocked on my door this morning and I nearly had a heart attack when I saw her through the peephole. I played dumb and acted like I didn’t know she lived across the hall.” Peter started to explain. A twinge of embarrassment struck him at the memory of what he said to you.

“Oh God. You said something stupid, didn’t you?” Tony inquired, noticing the look of embarrassment on Peters face as he recalled their conversation. Tony leaned on his hands like a child, this stuff exciting him more than anything.

“I insulted her dead father and called him smelly.” Peter admitted, and Tony laughed.

“But she found it funny and agreed with me.” Peter quickly followed up.

“Wow. Normally I’d say there’s no coming back from that, but she seems like a keeper. So, are you gonna throw on your Spidey suit and take her for a ride around the city? Works with all the ladies.” Tony wiggled eyebrows, but Peter shook his head.

“No. Spider-Man isn’t a party trick or some tactic to pick up girls. Plus, I want her to like me for me. That’s why I invited her over for dinner tonight.” Peter answered. Tony looked down at his hands, not wanting Peter to see how proud he was. He couldn’t let Peter get too cocky.

“That was a test and you passed.” To y quipped. “Alright, spider child, you have my blessing. But no funny business tonight. If I find out I’m gonna have to design nanotech baby clothes, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Peter blushed at the mere thought of what Tony was implying and spent the rest of his time at the tower going over missions to get you off his mind.

You arrived at Peters at 6:07. You were done getting ready at 5:45, and sat in the living room on your phone until you were slightly late. You didn’t want to be early, like some loser. Or even worse, on time. You had to be fashionably, but not rudely, late.

You knocked on Peters door at 6:07 and waited. The door swung open instantly, as if he’d be waiting right behind.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He stated. “I’ll let you decide if I was waiting at the door for you or if I’m just really fast. “

He had successfully broken the ice, and you gave kudos to him for trying.

You, on the other hand, were drawing a blank. You had no idea what to say and you were a reporter for crying out loud. You didn’t get tripped up on my words, but something about Peter Parker and that damn collared shirt rendered you unable to formulate a thought. All you could do was stand there and smile at him. You felt like you were standing weirdly and all the sudden had no idea where to put your hands. Do you leave them at your sides? That felt too stiff and soldier-like. But where else would they go? You were pretty sure every brain cell had left your body at that point, leaving you defenseless.

“You look nice.” Peter blurted, interrupting the awkward silence that had settled between you. Even he seemed surprised by his statement. You looked down and shrugged. You looked as nice as a lazy person who didn’t fully unpack their clothes could look. You had on a casual grey dress that was made of some sort of t-shirt material, and your hair was in a loose bun with a few curls framing your face. Peter took in your appearance with what looked like approval. Then you noticed Peters gaze falling to your feet.

“Converse with a dress.” He noted. “Bold move.”

You felt your personality re-enter your body, finally, and nodded.

“Oh yeah. You know me. Quirky and cool and not like other girls.” You joked as you clicked your heels together. “You look nice too. Very…Freddie Benson.”

Freddie Benson? Who the hell makes an ICarly reference to compliment someone? This night was going downhill fast and you regretted ever knocking on his door.

“Dude. You’re tanking.” Venom said in your ear, you had to agree. This couldn’t be going worse.

But lo and behold, Peters beautiful laugh filled your ears once again.

“That’s what I was going for!” He cheered. “My friend Ned always teases me for wearing sweaters and button downs but he just doesn’t have the vision.”

“Come in.” He suddenly stepped aside and gestured inward. “Dinners almost ready.”

Peters apartment looked just like yours, but much more homey. You saw his baby pictures on the wall, coupled with pictures of him and his parents through the years. You noticed a framed picture of a different couple on the coffee table. They resembled Peter but you didn’t see them in any photos with him past the age of around 7. There was a candle next to the frame, as well as a ceramic cross. You quickly looked away, not wanting to overstep.

“You must be Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” You heard a woman’s voice from behind you. You turned around and saw a woman in high pants and a yellow tank top, recognized her from the pictures with Peter.

“I am. It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Parker.” You said politely and shook her hand.

“Please.” She shook your hand. “Call me May.”

“May.” You repeated with a smile.

You turned around and saw Peter pulling out a chair for you, so you sat down while May finished preparing dinner. You offered to help, being the polite ass bitch that you were, but May insisted that you were the guest. A plate of “meatloaf” was soon placed in front of you and Peter. The term “meatloaf” is used very loosely. It looked more like an old shriveled brain. Peter made eye contact with you and winked.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He whispered. He glanced at May, who was busy pouring the drinks, before leaning in closer and whispering, “it’s way worse.”

You playfully kicked Peter under the table and he giggled, quickly masking the sound with a drink of water.

“So, Y/N, where do you go to school?” May started the conversation. You took a bite of meatloaf, nearly died, and swallowed before answering.

“I’m actually taking a gap year before I start my junior year at Berkeley.” You told her. “And I work part time as a reporter.”

“That’s a very good school.” She complimented. “And I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen your show on YouTube.”

“I haven’t.” Peter realized. “What’s it called?”

“The L/n Report.” You answered. “I started it my freshman year and it just kinda took off.”

“Oh. I’ve read some of yoru articles, but I haven’t seen the show.” Peter realized. “I can’t believe you do that. That’s really cool. You’re really cool.”

“Thank you.” You winked at him, not used to being praised for your work.

“Peter told me about your father.” May changed the subject. “I’m so sorry to hear that he passed. He left the apartment to you?”

“He did.” You nodded. “And it’s all right. We were estranged anyway.”

“It must be so different living alone in a city.” May sighed. “Did you dorm while at Berkeley?”

“No, I lived with my boyfriend.” You shook your head. Peter began choking on his water at the mention of a boyfriend and May shot him a look.

“Peter. Manners.” She said sternly.

“Boyfriend?” Was all he managed to say between coughs and sputters.

Oh great. Time for this conversation.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected. “I got him demoted to traffic duty for two weeks and he wasn’t too happy about it.”

“He broke up with you over that?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “That’s gotta be the dumbest reason for a breakup I’ve ever heard.”

“May I ask how you got him demoted?” May wondered.

“Well, I’m an investigative reporter, and my ex, Andy, is a cop.” You began. “I looked at some classified files on his computer and used them against someone.”

“Carlton Drake, right?” She realized the story sounded familiar. “I read about that. Your exposé about him was everywhere.”

“Didn’t he die in his own rocket?” Peter asked you, fully invested in the story.

“Yea. I was there. Me and…my friend.” You caught yourself before almost mentioning Venom.

“Gosh I read that story forever ago.” May recalled. “It was all over the news here. I remember Peter ranting to me that this girl was straight out of high school and already taking down shady guys in San Francisco. You were obsessed with the article, remember Peter? I’m pretty sure you hung it up.”

Peter, you guessed it, turned bright red.

“I just thought you were cool. You know, taking down bad guys and all at such a young age. It really inspired me.” Peter explained. He suddenly looked panicked, like he said too much, and you wondered what it inspired him to do.

“Thank you Peter.” You smiled fondly. “How old are you anyway?”

“19. I’ll be 20 on August 10th.” He said proudly. “What about you?”

“He’s legal.” Venom whispered in your ear. You couldn’t even be mad at her, you were thinking the same thing.

“I’m 20.” You told him, and smile crept across his face.

“And this boyfriend, where is he now?” May asked. May wasn’t blind to what was happening between her nephew and this new neighbor and knew that’s what Peter was dying to ask.

“I would very much also like to know that.” Peter said, almost robotically. He leaned in closer and stared at you while he awaited the answer.

“He’s engaged, actually.” You said between sips of water, making Peter sigh in relief. “To a friend of mine. They’re getting married this summer.”

It was the first time you said those words out loud. You didn’t feel sad, like you thought you would. You didn’t really know how you felt. The smile that broke out on Peters face gave a clear indication on how he felt, though.

“That’s great. I mean, not great great. Great for him, I mean. It’s always good to move on. Wether it be with an old friend or a brand new one. Maybe it’s with someone you just met. You never know. Things just happen between the most random of people. Could be a stranger. Or, or, hear me out, it could be less of a stranger. Like a barista, or a mailman or a…a neighbor.” Peter stumbled over his words, the last part coming out very quietly. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out though. Between you and him, I mean. ”

“Thanks.” You shrugged. “It was tough at first but, I’m okay now. He wasn’t the one.”

“When you do find the one, you’ll know. I knew almost immediately that Ben was the one. I saw him and my heart said “that’s the one you’ve been looking for” and I believed it.” May sighed wistfully. You could see her eyes glistening behind her glasses and did something rather bold. You put your hand on top of hers and squeezed. She gave off this loving motherly vibe that you had only seen in movies but never felt for yourself. May gave you the warmest smile and squeezed your hand back.

“That’s lovely May. Although, I always thought when you met the one, your heart wouldn’t say that it’s been looking for that person. I always thought it would say ‘welcome home’, or something like that. You know? Like, you’ve always known them. I don’t know though. Maybe I’ve just seen The Princess Bride one too many times.” You shrugged.

“Ah. That’s a classic in this household.” May recalled. “Peter would refuse to go to bed without watching it.”

“Because it’s a cinematic masterpiece.” Peter sassed. “You’re trying to embarrass me by pointing out that even as a child I had impeccable taste? Oh please.”

You laughed at his remark, making May noticed the smile that broke out on Peters face when he succeeded in making their new neighbor laugh.

May looked at you for a while with a content smile on her face before saying, “Yeah. I suppose you do have good taste.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #peter parker imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader

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uwuwriting · 4 years

Text

Having a girl with an aesthetic w/ Shinsou, Aizawa and Bakugou

Request: Shinsou with an e-girl gf, Aizawa with a dark academia wife and Bakugou with an angelcore or cottagecore girl, please and thank you. - anonymous.

Yall, dark academia is my best friends’ and mine aesthetic and its so pleazing. Like god damn. Angelcore is amazing so soft and uwu. Do I even have to say anything fir e-girls? No, I would just do them an injustice. Love ya and sorry for the inactivity.

masterlist

rules

warnings: none I think.

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Yall match.

-Like he wears dark brooding colors, mainly shades of purple to match his hair and maybe some greens while you on the other hand always have a black and red combo or some sort of stripped item of clothing.

-You share beanies.

-It has become an unspoken rule that you two will always go for beanie shopping every october.

-Your style kinda changes according to the month.

-Like during september you wearing mainly greys to match your sour mood bc school, during october since its spooky season you wear oranges and purples matching your boyfriend perfectly while January and December are red months.

-Those are his favorite.

-Red brings out the color of your lips making you look even more fearsome and badass, turning him on in the process.

-Yes I said it, Shinsou will beg for red lipstick.

-He’s semi worried for your hair.

-You keep changing it and he doesn’t mind when you cut it, oh no he finds your bangs or pixie cut adorable.

-He is worried when you change colors like you chnage clothes.

-He liked all your phases.

-The skank stripe and half-half ones being his favorites but he will ask you to tone it down a bit give your hair some time to rest and regain their strength.

-Yall paint your nails.

-You will spend endless hours in his room just painting each others nails and doing face masks.

-It brings out his edgy lord side, the nail polish.

-As if the dark circles and that constant ominous look on his face doesn’t do it.

-But you love it.

-He looks so content when you two are just sitting there listening to trash rap songs and taking care of each other.

-He loves it when you wear skirts with thigh highs.

-Actually you can’t wear those anymore bc once he sees you you can’t really walk anywhere afterwards....

-He is all about your chains and chokers.

-Like give him some he is jealous.

-Baby really be thriving while dawning those fake silver chains.

-If you are interested in more intracate make up he loves being your test subject and just lets you transform his face into whatever deity you want.

-Tends to scroll through your tik tok because its full of witch toks and very very interesting cosplays and makeup stuff.

-Somehow he found himself into anti trump tik tok and he cant get out..... then his fyp shifted to draco tok and he just gave up.

- “Are you cheating on me with Draco Malfoy?”

- “Baby-”

- “Because I don’t blame you.”

-Deadass has a whole folder on his laptop with couples outfits he wants to recreate at some point.

-He’s just so wholesome.

Aizawa Shouta

-He really can’t understand how he managed to get such a fashion icon of a wife.

-I mean have you seen the way this man dresses?

-Head empty just Aizawa with pink sweatpants.

-Yeah so he really doesn’t get it how he managed that but he isn’t complaining.

-I mean have you seen the dark academia aesthitic.

-It gives Maraurders vibes and we stan.

-He loves it when you wear long coats and those scarfs.

-They make you look like such a lady and so sophisticated and he lives for it.

-He really likes the plaid skirts and pants, makes him think that he is living with an English lady or maybe a philosophy teacher.

-Have I mentioned how much he adores your vintage book obsession?

-Going to old bookstores together and just browsing through the poetry books or the fantsy novels has become one of his favorite past times.

-He tries to somewhat keep up with you but he struggles.

-He really has no fashion sense but he wants to try for you.

- “Honey you don’t have to dress up for me! I love you just the way you are.”

-He loves you so much like omggggg!!!!

-Anyways.

-Rainy days have become book dates where you just snuggle up together on the couch in a large fluffy brown blanket and you both have a book in your hands reading away.

-He loves the little expressions you make when you are reading something interesting or staright up crazy.

-He bought you your very own round -Harry-Potter-style glasses for your birthday.

-You had been going on and on for some months now about how you wanted to go and buy a pair but you never got around to it.

-Being a teacher at UA and a hero is kinda hard and a busy job so we get you.

-You were so excited when he gave them to you.

-Um for Halloween you two went as James Potter and Sirius Black.

-He has the hair, okay maybe he is lacking that care free and cocky attitude but visually he does a good job.

-Seeing him in that suit oh boy.

-Really your realationship is just full of Harry Potter references since you are kinda obsessed with that Era, especially the Marauders.

-Hizashi is lowkey jealous because he could never get AIzawa to dress nicely.

-You are special though!!

-You are the wife

-He does what you tell him to in reality.

-He’s kinda wrapped around your finger.

Bakugou Katsuki

-He gets flustered so easily.

-Like your aesthetic is so soft and angelic and compared to him people think you have a corruption kink.

-He kinda feels bad bc when you dress like something god sent it because painfully clear how opposites you are.

-He sees his rough edges and rude behavior more than usual and he may become self concious.

-You will have to reassure him and remind him that this is a facade and that he knows your true evil nature.

-You are a true menace.

-ANyone trying to fuck with your friends or your boyfriend?

-They are getting round house kicked and yeeted out a window.

-Back to your aesthetic.

-Whenever he seas something pastel or colorful he wants to immediately buy it.

-Especially pastel stuff.

-Pastel is your whole thing.

-Pastel pinks, blues, purples, and greens.

-He will buy anything, from a headband to a purse to a very very cute plaid skirt.

-Kirishima and Denki are always so confused when he comes back to the common room with a few bags from womens’ clothing stores.

-He never answers their questions of course.

-He likes watching you make mood boards and create matching outfits.

-Trying clothes in fornt of him is a must, a small fashion show taking place in your room every Friday night.

-He likes to believe that you truly are an angel.

-Your aesthetic is a combination of angelcore and cottage core so your room is split into two sides.

-One side full of plants while the other had pastel mood boards.

-So pleasing.

-You tried to shift him into your aesthetic once.

-AND IT WAS ATRAUMATIZING EXPERIENCE.

-He looked so good in white and soft yellow but his mood was so so foul.

-He had made you agree to never a) bring this up and b) try this again.

-You have taken some photos though so not eveyrthing was lost.

-You will never tell him that you have evidence of his cottage core moment.

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez-mangetsu @bemorefiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Looking For A Place to Happen 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, drunkenness, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: The second last chapter of Sam for y’all!

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 6: Making stops along the way

💀💀💀

You laid on your side and hugged the covers as the bed shifted beside you. Sweaty, sore, exhausted, and the sun was only just dimming beyond the window. Sam’s broad back tensed as he sat up and stretched his arms above him. You could still feel him inside you, not that any reprise lasted long.

He said nothing as you heard the knock again. You barely noticed before but the pounding got louder as Sam pulled on grey jogging pants and chuckled. You groaned and hid your face against the duvet. Every move sent a thrumming pain through you, and agonized emptiness you resented.

Your knee hit the toy as it rolled against you and you flinched. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if it was him or the silicone stretching you. How had it only been a few hours? It felt like you’d been there for days.

“Damn it,” the voice grumbled from the other room, low and muffled by the wall, “I told you I was coming by.”

You recognized it from that fateful night at The Asp; deep and sinister. As brief as your encounter with the man, you could guess he was rarely anything but irritable.

“Calm down,” Sam replied lightly, “I got other things to do…”

“You got business,” Bucky retorted.

“Money’s in the bag,” you heard a soft rustle and a harrumph.

“Should’ve brought it direct,” Bucky complained.

“I’ve been taking care of your other problem,” Sam countered smoothly as you heard heavy footsteps move around the front room.

“I see that,” Bucky mused, his voice clearer, closer.

You lifted your head and quickly hid your bare leg and ass under the blanket. He chuckled as Sam neared and crossed his arms over his thick chest.

“She knows the rules now,” Sam said, “got it all under control.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his chin and turned to Sam, “yeah, yeah, well… my girl…”

“Nice woman… stubborn like you,” Sam remarked.

“Stubborn’s a word for it. She’s, uh, concerned,” he said carefully, “about the girl. Says she’s young--”

“Not deaf either,” you sat up as you clung to the duvet.

He squinted at you and you flinched. Sam glanced at you and tapped a finger against his lips for you to be quiet.

“You know Steve’s girl is having that little thing at the bar. Her birthday or some shit.”

“Steve won’t shut up about it,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“He’s sweet on her. Too sweet.” Bucky sniffed, “Anyway, bring the girl, need mine to stop worrying.”

“Ah, sure, when was it again?”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky jutted his jaw out, “actually…” he peeked over at you as he thought, “take her by my lady’s place. The girls will be there getting all dolled up.”

“I’m busy--” you began and Bucky snapped his fingers at you.

“You said she knew the rules,” he pointed at Sam, “maybe you should remind her before I have to see her again.”

He turned and you saw his leather jacket as he stomped away, seizing a leather bag from the coffee table as he passed. The door slammed in his stead and Sam leaned against the wooden frame to look at you. He shook his head and sighed.

“Don’t know what it is about that man and women,” he gave a smirk, “but y’all sure do like to take the piss out of him.”

💀

It was easy enough to find any house in Birch, there were only so many. As you were realising too late, this was detrimental, not just to you but many in the thrall of the club’s clutches. There was no place to hide from those men and their cruelty.

He handed you your phone back before he let you go. He warned that you better use it wisely. He would meet you at the bar later; you were to make your way over with the group of women you didn’t know.

You neared the front door of the yellow house and knocked. You waited nervously, the cold air slipping in under your long jacket. A woman opened the door and you wondered if you were at the wrong place. Typical. You could even get lost in Birch.

“Oh, you must be the last,” she chimed, “I’m Mel.”

You smiled and awkwardly gave your name. She beckoned you inside and you added your boots and coat to those already by the door. You dressed for the occasion, Sam approved of the outfit with a growl after advising you to wear something slutty. You hadn’t worn the tight leather leggings and the strappy crop top since your club days in your two years of community college.

Mel looked you over but made no remark on your attire as she pointed up the stairs, “to the left, you’ll hear them.”

You ascended and the low hum of 90s music and female voices reached you from the slightly open door just down the hall. You neared and knocked as you waited tentatively. You knew Bucky’s girl from the bar but never had the chance to talk to her. You never did well with strangers, always the weird one, the funny one.

“Hey,” Bucky’s girl swung open the door, “just in time.”

“Um, hi,” you stepped into the small bedroom, “I brought tequila.”

You held up the bottle as you peered around. The mechanic was on the bed, her brows arched sardonically as she watched the quiet baker girl that sat at the slim desk and checked her appearance in a hand mirror. She hovered a stick of eyeliner in front of her face but never made contact with her skin as she bared her teeth. You put the bottle down on the corner of the dresser.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she wisped but quieted at her name as Bucky’s girl introduced them, “oh, hi.”

You smiled and stared quietly. You chuckled nervously and rung your hands. “Did you need help? I’ve watched some, um, Youtube stuff on it--”

“Sure,” she lowered the mirror in defeat, “I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“That’s a lame present,” the mechanic said, “make-up? When you don’t even use it? I always knew Steve was a bitch--”

“At least he got me something,” she handed over the stick of liner as you neared and Bucky’s girl pushed a cushioned chest up from the corner for you to sit, “my pa never did.”

“Just because he’s less of an ass than your pa doesn’t mean he’s not an ass,” the mechanic spat as she pulled at the front of her stiff dress, black with little gems set into the fabric.

“Oh, and look at you, wearing that clown suit,” Bucky’s girl intoned, “we’re all in the same boat.”

“What kinda look you going for?” you asked as you cleared your throat.

“I… don’t know, something pretty,” she smiled meekly.

You nodded and looked over your shoulder at the bottle of tequila. You peeked back at the girl as she squirmed nervously.

“We should do some shots,” you said, “it’s your birthday, right? You should have fun… try to relax.”

“Her, relax?” The mechanic scoffed.

“Shots sound good, I’ll get some glasses,” Bucky’s girl said from behind you.

She left and you asked the baker to close her eyes. You held her head carefully as you stretched her eyelid and traced it carefully. It was much easier to do on someone else. You added a little wing and balanced out her other eye before you sat back.

Bucky’s girl plunked four short amber shot glasses on the dresser and poured as you went over the gift bag full of make-up with Steve’s girl. She chose a rosy shade of pink that you gently applied to her lips.

Bucky’s girl handed out the glasses. The mechanic didn’t flinch or wait before she downed hers. Steve’s girl frowned as she took hers and you gave a thank you as you accepted a glass.

“I can already feel the burn,” the baker girl bemoaned.

“Come on, loosen up,” you raised your shot and downed it, “jeez, how old are y’all?”

“Old enough to know better,” Bucky’s girl said, “you know, you really got yourself in the shit but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you.”

“Oh you mean the local den of assholes,” you snorted, “shot, shot, shot.”

You encouraged Steve’s girl until she reluctantly knocked back the tequila. You took her glass and your own and went to the dresser. You refilled them and offered her the second.

“You really don’t learn,” the mechanic blinked.

“No, I do but I’d rather be drunk and miserable than sober and miserable,” you raised your shot, “and you guys, this,” you pointed to them, “the look, sure you got some years but you’re still young enough. You needa show some skin.”

“It’s below zero,” Bucky’s girl narrowed her eyes.

“The tequila will keep you warm,” you nudged Steve’s girl and mirrored her as you drained your shot.

“She’s gonna get us all killed,” the mechanic muttered.

“No, I’m gonna get you lit,” you grabbed the bottle and turned up the little speaker in the corner before shimmying over to her. You filled her glass and took a swig directly from the bottle, “also, I can hardly feel anything anymore.”

💀

“I’m telling you,” you slurred, “you can’t wear that! We stop by my place and I’ll get you the look.”

“The look?” Bucky’s girl interjected, “you mean the hypothermic style?”

“My nan has more style than all of you,” you stumbled off the main road away from the bar, “come on!”

“We’re gonna be late,” Steve’s girl squeaked.

“For what? It’s your birthday,” you grabbed her hand and ran ahead.

The other two followed a few feet back as you led them down to your nan’s house. You dragged her up the steps and leaned heavily on the door as you burst through. The smell of cigarette smoke met your nostrils as your grandmother appeared in the door of the front room and puffed as she watched you sway.

“Nan!” you dropped the baker girl’s hand and outstretched your arms as you grandmother swiftly sidestepped you and sucked on her cigarette.

“I see you’ve made friends,” she tutted, “try not to make a mess of my house or you’ll be cleaning it up, drunk or not.”

“We won’t be here long, we just need clothes… you got any of that wine left?”

“No more for you, girly,” she chided.

“Girls, girls, girls,” you turned back, “this is my nan. She kills bikers.”

“Shut your mouth, girly,” your grandma snarled, “you might be three sheets to the wind but words carry.”

“Do you?” the mechanic spoke up, more and more quiet as she imbibed.

Your nan gave her a long look. There was a moment of silence, understanding, commiseration. The old lady shrugged and tilted her head.

“I haven’t messed with bikers since 1978 and I don’t plan on starting again,” she butted out the cigarette in the empty coin tray on the console table, “go on, get what you need and get out.”

“Ugh, fine,” you moped away and waved the girls up the stairs behind you.

You leaned heavily on the railing as you ascended and they followed behind you in disorder, several times supporting each other in the climb. Inside your room, you pulled open your closet and looked at the impulse purchases you never had a chance to wear. You don’t know why you bought them, they were all cheap and generic, but you were always a sucker for a sale.

“Here,” you handed the mechanic as shiny silver top with straps, “I should have something to go with it.”

You handed out clothes like candy, some of the tags still attached so you ripped them off clumsily. The mechanic ended up in the silver top and black pleather leggings, Bucky’s girl in dark blue dress with cutouts that you ordered in the wrong size, and Steve’s girl in no more than bright red bra and some high rise jeans.

“We’re gonna freeze,” Bucky’s girl whined.

“Suck it up and put your coat on,” you snapped, “now, we’re ready for fun!”

“Steve’s not gonna like this,” the baker moaned.

“You need more alcohol! Who gives a shit what he thinks?” The mechanic nudged her, “he’s a prick.”

“They’re all pricks,” Bucky’s girl giggled, “what’s this?”

You turned as she pulled out the bottle of Smirnoff hidden in your top drawer. It was still sealed because you didn’t like the grape flavour but she quickly broke the plastic. She took a gulp and scrunched her face as she held it out to Steve’s girl.

“No more, it’s too much!”

“If only Thor hadn’t dragged his girl off,” Bucky’s girl pushed the bottle to Steve’s girl’s lips, “but we gotta make up for her, don’t we?”

“Shit, shit,” the mechanic chuckled and grabbed the bottle as the baker struggled to swallow, “we’re gonna get in some shit, girls.”

“Is that idiot ever happy? Loki? What a dumb name?” Bucky’s girl snarled.

“They all suck,” you added.

“Ugh, don’t get me started on Sam,” the mechanic wiped her glistening lips, “preying on a kid.”

“I’m not… not a kid,” you hiccuped.

“You didn’t know who Aaran Carter is,” Bucky’s girl said, “you’re a kid.”

You laughed and took a swig and cringed at the burn of the vodka, “I’m an adult.”

“Sure don’t act like it,” the mechanic said loudly.

“Who gives a fuck? Tonight, we don’t,” Bucky’s girl said, “come on, let’s go see those bastards and show ‘em we don’t fuckin’ care.”

You snickered as you found your coat where you left it on the bed and the lot of you staggered down the back steps and around the house. The winter air crawled over you and sent a shiver up your spine. You hardly felt it in the warm glow of the alcohol; not the cold, not the dread that had lingered for days, not even the regret. You were completely and pleasantly drunk out of your mind.

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dojolarusso · 3 years

Text

daniel larusso's outfits megapost

hello, loves! i'm just gonna go through the movies and make a few comments on all of daniel's outfits. give or take a few that i may have missed, but i tried to get them all. they will also (mostly) be in chronological order.

so here goes. if you wanna read my ramblings, look under the cut!

okay, here goes. the first time we see our daniel. not my fave. but when i first watched thses movies, i was instantly attracted to him lmao. he was my first celeb crush at like age 12/13 and he still is as a 59 year old man now..

the beach wear is nice but not one of my favourites.

v cute when he adds the red hoodie though. definitely his colour

this look is one of my favourites, vvvv nice and he does actually look really cool. the red checkers are real nice - i am very much a fan of anything plaid/checkered/flannel, so i always love it on him. i would wear this for sure, glasses included

his gym wear, we see twice.. another fan favourite, i believe. i prefer it without the jacket though

probably my least favourite out of the movies. not a fan of the orange, daniel

the yellow shirt was really nice, he looks very good in this with his very pretty bruise too. we only get to see this outfit for like a minute though :(

the red jacket - very very nice. he is stunning in this scene

this one always has a lot of different opinions. personally, i really like it and it's one of my favourite outfits of his. he makes the colliding patterns work, right? and the whump adds to the look. he wears the same pants when he's trimming his bonsai tree with miyagi too.

this is another one of my faves but we see it for literally 4/5 seconds because he's trying to avoid ali. it's vvv cute.

he usually wears his flannel buttoned up, but here, he wears it open and i get writer or artist vibes from him here too

another fave.

look at himmmmm. or...... it. lmao

hi beautiful boy

okay, and this scene after the fight, wearing the same shirt and looking so so comfy and cosy (despite the whump). i just wanna cuddle him so bad in this scene

guess what? another favourite outfit.. in fact, the rest of the outfits from part 1 are in my favourites. he looks v good. the blue and white checks are one of the best ones he wears.

this little moment where miyagi puts on the headband... doesn't it feel like some very monumental moment? like when someone in your family passes down a watch or piece of jewelry, or just any kind of item with meaning. it feels special and it's very nice too. the fact that this scene was improvised by pat oo, and then the headband became a statement.. amazing. also, i was curious about the pattern, and looked some stuff up, so if you didn't already know - it's a japanese hand towel or handkerchief, called a 'tenugui'. they are usually used to dry hands, sweat, etc (never for blowing your nose though), but they can also be used to wrap things, to give gifts, as belts etc. so hopefully that's something new for some of you to learn today. also! how sweet that ralph still has one of them!!

okay, enough on that.. the next one.. the green/navy kinda flannel, also very nice on him! the whump!!!

the date night outfit is basically and example of how i dress whenever i'm not working or living in hoodies. very lush

this could be my top favourite if there wasn’t so many. the headband around his neck, the plaid, the smiles, the background... it all adds up and it’s stunningly gorg

this one is like, probably one of the most popular, no? it's like one of the first pictures you see if you search daniel larusso on anything. he looks angelic

this one is pretty too! it's like he knew he would be painting or something because the outfit sort of gives off artist vibes again

these are probably the same shorts that he wore to the beach party, right? listen, he was the same age here, that i am now and just, like... turn around, daniel, pls :)

okay, fine..

look at that background.. so pretty.. and so is the main subject :)

his birthday outfit is him in a sweater, so of course, i love it very much. the hat just makes it that much more adorable too

then he tries on the gi for the first time.. gorgeous

this jacket is really nice.. one of my top faves! i would probably buy a jacket like this

the plaid he wears just before the tournament.. pretty pretty

the gi!! it's very hard to pick an all time favourite, but this is very close to being it. idk what it is but i just really enjoy him in it.

and the patch is really really cool

first outfit of part 2... a top fave. another outfit that is pretty much an example of what i wear a lot

not a fan, not a fan. the colour of his prom suit is nice, but it's not his best look

it looks slightly better without the jacket though

not a fan of this striped shirt either

it seems like part 1 was a lot of plaid/flannel and part 2 is a lot of stripes.

he wears this shirt a few times throughout this movie..

the pink shirt is quite cute, and he's a lil cutie during this scene meeting yukie

this scene is very sad, but the outfit is very good. wish we'd seen this at some other point

one of everyone's favourites. yesyesyes. very, very nice.

damn, he looks good. the peaking shoulder and the shirt blowing in the wind. yesyesyes. very, very nice.

just... yes.

he wears that tank top again a little later too!

more stripes, very cute

i've realised that a lot of you love red on him and i happen to very much agree.

gorgeous

then here's the shirt that kumiko gifts to him. also, very very nice

the pink checkered shirt - he wears this for the cermony, then through the storm, up until this moment.. again, it's another that i really like

bet you've been waiting for this one, huh?

or maybe you scrolled down to it because you wanted to see what i would say.. hm? haha

it's actually shiny just so nice. the bonsai is so cool too. and it matches with miyagi's grey version

anyways, if he didn't have so so so many good outfits then this would be my all time favourite. he is radiant. the little bonsais on the front are so sweet!!! ugh, i just love bonsai trees too, i guess

this is like the only full shot of it, unless you use something from the actual fight

had to include this glorious, perfect smile and moment. ugh, just look at him.. stare at it for a moment and enjoy his beauty and the very nicely done whump goodness

okay, you done staring? good, because we're onto the final movie... part 3

these three shirts are some of the few that i like in part 3. the blue is cool

the yellow is nice

the red is pretty

this puffy jacket appears a lot in this part, and i don't really like it

this shirt is one that miyagi gifted to him, very nice.. and i think it's actually very similar to one that miyagi wears in the first movie too

the sweaters. oh, the sweaters. he looks so good in them. this grey one with the red pants.. gorgeous

such a pretty man

he just looks so comfy and cuddly, pls

ugh, precious angel

i can't decide if i like the grey or dark blue one more, but they are both really nice and two of my favourite colours which is part of the reason why

come and cuddle me, pls

this has to be the same outfit he worse while running with jessica, only with the joggers rolled up a little.. v cute

this was a nice outfit! despite the heartbreaking moment that comes right after. i think he really suits red.. and blue

this jacket, he wears it a few times with different shirts. i actually love this one. it has like a plaid/check inlay which is really cool - i want it.

i prefer it like this though, with the collared shirt and sweater

and finally, we have the gi again. a classic, one of his best best looks ever.

if you would like to use these screencaps, please feel free, but just tag me somewhere because it truly tok a long time to get them all/edit/sort etc :)

#courtney's ramblings #tkk #tkk2 #tkk3 #the karate kid (1984)#the karate kid part ii #the karate kid part iii #daniel larusso #ralph macchio #outfits #fashion #daniel's outfits #my screencaps

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

for the meet ugly asks, 08 with the ot4 if that’s ok? (the note in the locker one, in case I have the wrong number). rating up to you! :)

Here you go! I went NSFW

Joseph is not missing his chance. Not again.

If he’s keeping count, which he’s certainly not, he’s missed fifty-two chances between fifth grade and now.

Barclay’s family moved next door in the summer of 1951, causing eleven year old Joseph to learn very quickly what it’s like to have someone whose side you never want to leave. Lucky for him, Barclay felt the same way; they were in the same boyscout troop, were each others first choice for sleep overs or outings where they were allowed to take one friend. When they hit high school, Barclay went out for football because Joseph did (and Joseph did because that’s what upstanding young men do). They played together all four years, Barclays growth spurt rendering him doubly dangerous on defense and the dominant source of Joseph’s late-night fantasies. Joseph did debate club alone, but Barclay joined him for chess club. And when Barclay bought his car, his first stop was to take Joseph cruising, just the two of them.

Unluckily, Joseph’s never worked up the nerve to tell Barclay how he feels. This may be why he hasn’t had a date since the spring hop two years ago, while Barclay’s had quite a few (cheerleaders and band boys alike can’t seem to resist his physique and general gentleness).

That all changes today. Joseph slipped a note into Barclays locker right before lunch that conveyed all relevant information.

Dear you,

Drive in on Friday? We can park in the back row.

Love,

Joseph.

He’s sitting in his normal spot on the bench near the cafeteria, doing his best impersonation of someone who’s heart isn’t in his throat.

As he’s scanning the crowd, none other than Duck Newton begins weaving his way over to him, leather jacket reflecting the sun and his black hair combed back as always. Joseph was wary of him for years--as any good square is of kids from the rough side of town--until they got paired together in biology their senior year. Duck, who seems not to give a shit about school the rest of the time, is incredibly good at science. And he’s funny, nearly got them both kept after class for cracking a joke that made Joseph lose his breath laughing.

The problem is, right now he’s waving a very familiar piece of paper.

“Gotta say, I’m pretty fuckin flattered, Joe. But, uh” he leans on the table, smiling playfully, “I gotta make sure ‘Drid is okay with me playin backseat bingo with someone who ain’t him.”

“Um.” Joseph shakes his head, trying not to focus on the idea of Duck holding his head in his lap in the dark corner of the drive in, “I, I’m so sorry. I must have been nervous enough to put the note in the wrong locker. Not, not that you’re not a catch.”

Duck raises his eyebrow, “1650 or 1652?”

“1652.”

“Huh. Well, I got shop class with Barclay. You want me to just give it to him?”

“No.” Joseph holds out his hand.

Duck places the letter in it with a shrug, “Suit yourself, slick. See you later.”

Joseph rips the letter to shreds, tosses it in the trash, and hopes that’s the end of this humiliating error.

It’s not.

“Hello, Joseph.” Indrid Cold rests a shoulder on the locker next to his. There’s no one in Kepler High quite like him; his family moved from California three years ago, which most people use as the explanation for Indrid’s red glasses, crystal necklace, and pale hair that is always a quarter-inch shy of the principal writing him up for it. He’s never struck Joseph as the kind to fight, but he did mistakenly proposition his boyfriend three hours ago.

“Indrid. How can I help you?”

The taller boy hands him a folded slip of notebook paper, “By taking me up on this invitation.”

Before Joseph can ask any questions, Indrid is disappearing down the hall. The paper contains a hand drawn map to an X, under which is the word “Bash” but nothing else. Joseph has never been invited to any kind of party that needed a secret map. He mostly just gets invited to get togethers because he’s the captain of the football team. No one talks to him once he’s there. Well, except Barclay.

He stares at the map; he doesn’t have to be home until ten. He’s never going to get a chance to make the scene like this again.

Joseph shuts his locker and hurries to his car.

------------------------------------------------------

Indrid’s remarkably accurate map leads him to a dirt parking lot beneath the sign for Amnesty Point. As he follows the signs for the “beach house,” a Coaster’s song drifts through the air, underscored by splashes from the lake to his right. He’s deep in the woods on the wrong side of the tracks, but even so he’s unprepared for how everyone lounging around the weathered picnic tables on a shaded patio stops talking and stares at him.

“Who the fuck invited the square?” Someone whispers, making him wish he hadn’t left the map in the car.

“Joseph?”

He turns so fast the gravel flies. Barclay, clad in a grease-stained apron, is smiling so bright it evaporates his nervousness.

“Hi, big guy.”

His friend hoists him in a hug, “I’m so glad you’re here, Indrid said he invited you but I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“He piqued my curiosity. Um, is this the new job you were so cagey about?”

“Yep. Mama--she runs this place--pays real well, but tries to keep Amnesty Point kinda secret. Cops just love busting places like this up for no reason.”

Joseph nods, still a little hurt Barclay didn’t trust him enough to share where he worked. His friend must notice the dip in his smile before he hides it, because he adds, “It’s gonna be even better working here now that you know where to find me. Listen, um, I gotta get back before Jake sets something on fire, but the burger stand closes at eight. I’ll come find you after that. Duck and Indrid are down by the dock, if you want company.”

He absolutely does, since the alternative is looking even more out of place by being the only person here alone.

When he hits the grey sand, Duck is just pulling himself back onto dry land. The half moon scars on his chest are the only reminders of the trip he took to San Francisco last summer.

“Glad you showed up, slick. Day like this, the water is the only nice place to be.”

“I wish I’d known, I would have brought my swim shorts.” Maybe if he rolls up his pant legs he can get some relief from the heat…

“Could just go in your boxers. I won’t tell.” Duck winks.

“Nothing is also allowed.” Indrid lilts, floating past on his back.

Joseph looks at him, then at the planks of the dock because Indrid is also demonstrating that second option without a care.

Duck snickers, “sugar, put somethin on, you’re scandalizin’ the poor guy.”

“Very well. But I demand help with the sunblock in payment for quashing my self-expression this way.”

“You’re soundin like your pops there, ‘Drid.”

“....ugh, you’re right.” A splash and the soft fwup of a towel, “alright, Joseph, I’m decent.” He is, but his swim shorts leave very little to the imagination. Joseph stares a moment too long, notices Duck smirking when he looks away.

The greaser holds out a bottle of sunblock and they get to work.

“Goddamn, this wouldn’t take so long if you weren’t so fuckin long everywhere.”

“You’ve never complained about that before.” Indrid grins, red sunglasses hiding his eyes. He doesn’t lift a finger to help them, but Duck seems to get a kick from it. Joseph wonders if he spoils Indrid like this in everything they do. If Indrid ever does it back.

(If either of them would do it for him).

They spend the evening talking, Duck skipping stones and Indrid sunning himself while Joseph dangles his legs in the water. When they get back to the beach house Joseph receives fewer stares, Duck and Indrid’s company substituting for cool. He and Duck get a real dinner, but Indrid opts to down three Cokes in place of a meal.

When Barclay closes up shop, he’s immediately at Joseph’s side. Joseph is about to suggest they all go for a walk when Indrid winks at Barclay and steers Duck towards the trees with a promise to see Joseph at school tomorrow.

“You get on okay while I was working?” Barclay starts them on a path towards the edge of the point.

“I did. It was actually really nice just to spend time talking with people who like me. Or at least don’t hate me enough to shove me in the water fully clothed.”

“Nah, they’re not those kind of guys. Hell, it was their idea to invite you here. I was, uh, I was too shy.”

He stops, turning to face Barclay, “what do mean?”

“Duck told me about the note.”

“Oh lord.”

“Not on purpose, he just mentioned he’d seen you and when I asked how you were doing, well, you know he can’t lie for shit. So Indrid suggested we invite you out here.”

“Out of pity?”

“No.” Barclay frowns, sets his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, “Joseph, why didn’t you just ask me out in person?”

“I was too nervous. I thought it might ruin everything.”

“Not a chance, blue eyes.” Barclay rumbles. Then he’s kissing him, gentle and slow, whimpering when Joseph kisses back and cups his face. When they part, he’s certain there’s nothing but air under his feet.

“Can we do that again?”

“Not tonight. Your curfew is still ten.”

“Shit, you’re right, if I don’t get on the road I’ll be late.”

“Lemme walk you to your car. I gotta hang around since I’m Indrid and Duck’s ride home tonight.”

“Do you want to go get them so we can all leave together?”

Barclay chuckles, tips his head towards the woods where a faint, rhythmic grunting cane be heard.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not gonna ruin their fun.” He pulls Joseph into a much more heated kiss, then sighs, “get home safe, blue eyes.”

---------------------------------------------------------

Joseph suffered through both the personal hygiene class at school and his father’s lecture on what to expect now that he was truly a man. But nothing in either of those taught him what to do if he’s so hot under the collar he can’t focus but the guy who’s causing it won’t just fuck him.

He and Barclay have gone out every Friday for the last month, steaming up the car windows with their kissing sessions. They tried to work out who was supposed to give who their varsity jacket and settled on just trading, Joseph smiling whenever he spots Barclays name on his back. And Barclay tells everyone Joseph is his boyfriend with a level of pride he never gave their state football wins.

But he won’t go all the way with him. One Sunday afternoon they were listening to records in Barclays room when the larger boy rolled across the rug to straddle Joseph. His hands were hot and a little rough on his cock, Joseph moaning into his mouth as he came in under a minute. Before he could reciprocate, the front door banged open, announcing the return of Barclay’s parents. His boyfriend told him not to worry about it and kissed him on the cheek.

He’s worried Barclay loves him but doesn’t want him. He’s worried that if he ever does, Joseph will embarrass himself, be so inexperienced and inelegant he’ll turn him off forever. He wonders if he can entice Barclay to ask him to fuck so he doesn’t have to admit the embarssing intensity of his desire.

“Duck? Do you, um, do you think I’d look better if I dressed like you?”

The greaser looks up from his notes, “Maybe? I mean, I dress like this because I dig it. You wanna try it, go wild.”

Joseph nods, intending to drop it. Instead, he slows his stride by Duck during their laps in gym.

“It’s just, I’m worried I’m too square for anyone to be really into me.”

“Joe, what the fuck is this about?”

“Newton, I heard that! That’s an extra lap.”

“Son of uh, hold on, are you worried about Barclay? Because he’s so into your goody-goody thing I’m surprised he ain’t asked you to fuck him with your report card.”

“Stern, you’re done, get off the track!”

He jogs to the bleachers, Duck’s words rattling around long after he’s hit the locker room.

“You’re really worried about this, ain’t you? You’re smart, slick, but I swear sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.” Duck is behind him, still in his gym clothes while Joseph is half changed out of them. They’re both dawdling, the locker room empty save for some other stragglers near the bathroom.

“Duck, if I were in high demand, I’d be getting more, um, attention than I-”

His sentence is cut short by Duck yanking him down into a kiss, lips salty with sweat and so demanding Joseph wants to get on his knees.

Duck pulls back, pats his cheek, “Like I said; right in front of you.”

With that he waves and leaves the room the back way. Joseph can’t even be mad for cutting school; right now, he’s almost ready to follow him.

-------------------------------------------------

“I really must thank you again.” Indrid clears the low table of his math notes, “my focus is such that I struggle with math much more than I’d like. Having someone sit and walk me through it in a calm setting helps a great deal.”

“I’m always happy. Barclay can too, if you ever can’t get a hold of me.”

“Oh, I know he can. He helped me last year.” Indrid stretches his legs; they’re on the floor of his VW Westfalia. His parents let him live in it on the property behind their one-story house as long as he continues to be a cooperative member of the household.

“I didn’t know that.”

“It was only a few times, though he often lingered when we were through.” Indrid’s emphasis makes Joseph blush.

“Duck and I weren’t going steady yet. And my cocksucking skills are not the stuff of legend for nothing.” Indrid smiles, dreamily.

“Oh. Um.” Joseph shifts his notebook into his lap.

Indrid sits up straighter, “I apologize. I, ah, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not sure that’s what this is.”

Indrid cocks his head, “No? Envy perhaps? After all, you’ve had years to dream about him, to hope you’d be the first, and here comes a skinny little freak from the coast to beat you to it.”

“You’re not a freak” Joseph says softly, “I, I can’t say I blame Barclay for taking you up on it.”

“He does have excellent taste” Indrid looks pointedly over his glasses at him. The heat under his skin doubles as Indrid crawls forward, “you know, Duck and I have an...understanding. But if you and Barclay do not, I can stop. I mean, I can stop regardless, if you don’t want this.” He lowers to his belly between Joseph’s legs, nuzzles his fly with a hum.

“I, I--ohlord” He moans when Indrid mouths at his slacks; he’s getting hard, if he had his way he’d lay down and let Indrid suck him off until he came on his glasses. But he knows he won’t enjoy it if he isn’t sure how Barclay feels.

“I, we should stop. Please.”

Indrid sits up, smiling, “Of course. Would you like to stay for dinner? My mother is making fish stew instead of tofu salad for once.”

“...I’d love to.”

---------------------------------------------

“I didn’t know Amnesty owned all this.” Joseph let’s Barclay guide him through the trees.

“Yeah, Mama’s family bought it years ago and she’s hung onto it through some seriously nasty shit. Hah, there they are.” Barclay waves to Duck and Indrid, resting against each other on a massive, checkered blanket. His boyfriend sets the picnic basket down and then, confusingly, turns off the lantern Duck brought.

“Okay, baby, there’s something I’ve got to ask” Barclay looks at him, “do you think I don’t wanna make it with you?”

“Truthfully? Yes. You, you’ve barely gone beyond some heavy petting, meanwhile Indrid was offering to blow me.” He slaps a hand over his mouth; there go all three of these relationships.

Barclay shrugs, “He told me about that.”

“Honesty is important. Most of the time.” Indrid grins.

“Blue eyes, I’m crazy about you. I’ve just been going slow because I was afraid I’d stress you out. I know how you get, Joseph. You put so much pressure on yourself to do everything right, I was worried you’d try so hard to be perfect for me that you wouldn’t enjoy it at all.”

Joseph stares into deep brown eyes, eyes he’s loved since he was a boy. Then he laughs softly, rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder, “You really do know me well, you know that.”

“Oh, oh baby” Barclay holds him closer, “you really think there was a way of touching me that’d disappoint me? Fuck, just getting to kiss you makes me the happiest guy in the state.”

“That being said” Duck drawls, “aint there somethin about practice makin perfect?”

“I, are, is this really what you three want?”

“Yes” Indrid nods, “but if you don’t, well, we shall never speak of it again.”

“I do. Sweet fucking christ I do.” He kisses Barclay ferociously as the other two scoot closer.

“Hmm, I believe we should let seniority decide. Barclay, what’s your preference?”

His boyfriend pulls back, kissing his jaw, “Do you wanna blow me, blue eyes?”

“So badly.”

“That settles that. Duck, what about--ah, I see you’re already taking off your pants, so I guess you’re fucking hm. He’s fucking you? Ah, semantics.” Indrid waves his hand dismissively.

“Wait, does, do we have a rubber?”

Duck pulls one from his wallet, “never leave to see this one without one. I know how he is.”

Indrid pecks his cheek, then grins, “I believe, Joseph, that leaves me to help you with your hand jobs.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“On your back, baby.” Barclays nudges him and he falls onto the blanket. For a moment only the trees and stars look down on him; then Barclays face fills his vision as his hands open his fly and guide his cock out.

“AHshit, shit that’s good.” He bucks as his boyfriend jerks him off steadily, his cock standing at attention in a matter of seconds.

“Okay big fella, you go get your dick sucked.” Duck straddles him. He’s down to only his undershirt, his muscular thighs, soft belly, and strong arms on full displays as he rolls the condom down.

“You’re so handsome” Joseph sighs.

Duck seems to blush, “Thanks, slick. Not bad yourself.”

“I mean it, really, you’re incredible” he paws his legs, grabs his shirt and pulls him down into the kiss. Duck giggles into his mouth, then sinks down onto his cock. Joseph decides he is never, never letting go of the man above him; his weight is so comforting, his body so perfect, the way his laughs morph into moans so charming.

“G-great thing about this position” Duck gasps, “is you don’t gotta do much besides let me ride you. That’s why it’s ‘Drid’s favorite.”

“Second favorite; you on my face is my first. Speaking of which” he kneels, gently lifts Joseph’s head into his hands while Barclay sits cross-legged on the other side of his head. His cock is thick and long, so mouthwatering Joseph opens his mouth without being told.

“Fuck, baby, wanted this so long.” Barclay guides his cock between his lips when Indrid turns his head. The skinnier man keeps supporting him as his tongue registers skin, sweat, Barclay and he whines for more.

“Easy, blue eyes, fuck, you’re doing great.”

“I’ll say. Fuck, can’t believe you been keepin this dick all to yourself, Joe.”

“I got my haAAnds on it once.”

“Clearly you should have done it more” Indrid purrs, hips moving slightly, “as soon as someone plays with it, he sucks cock very nicely.”

“No fuckin kiddin. Baby, baby, yeah, suck like that.”

Indrid shifts behind him, “Barclay, hold him a moment, there’s been a change of plans.” A zipper goes as Barclay cradles him. Then Indrid’s fingers are back, turning him to face a second, narrower cock.

“Handjobs can wait.” Indrid pulls him forward, moaning high when he sucks the head, “oooh, yes, that’s it.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuckin combust watchin you do that.” Duck bounces more deliberately and Joseph yelps joyfully around Indrid’s cock. He’s already close to cumming, the feeling of Duck around him and Indrid inside him flooding the rest of him with pleasure.

Indrid pulls his head back, starts to turn him towards Barclays, when it punches through him. He moans, pushes up into Duck as the shorter man laughs.

“I, I came first, I’m sorry, this is one of the things-”

“Shush” Barclay helps him up as Duck climbs of him, “that was fucking incredible, and you’re not done yet.”

“On your knees, facing us. Unless, sweetheart, do you-”

Duck’s hand is already between his legs, “I’m gonna enjoy the show.”

“Mmm, which means I get to enjoy you enjoying it. Barclay, turn slightly, like this.”

“Why, oh, oh I got it, fuck, you’re a fucking genius.”

Joseph agrees, though he’s going a bit cross-eyed. So he closes them, lets first Indrid and then Barclay press their cock into his mouth. It’s a stretch, his jaw aching instantly, but it’s the best he’s ever felt. They can’t push more than the heads in, so he concentrates on sucking and licking, pre-cum collecting on his tongue and spit seeping down his chin. Duck grunts behind him, offering running commentary on Indrid’s appearance and Joseph's voice. Barclay shoves both hands into his hair while Indrid keeps one on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, Joseph, baby, this is fucking aces, gonna paint your whole fucking stomach white.”

“Ahnnn, agreed” Indrid pants, “your mouth was made for this, ohyes, that’s it, mmm, this is even better, feeling your cock against mine dearest, oh, oh” Indrid cums, bitterness hitting his tongue, and when he tries to swallow he gasps and gags instead.

“Fuck” Barclay grunts and then another burst of cum fills his mouth. He gasps for air as they pull out, sending some down his chin. He wipes ineffectively at it with the back of his hand.

“Here” Duck, underwear back on, cleans his lips with a napkin.

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course.” Duck kisses him as Indrid flops on his belly and Barclay curls his arms around Joseph.

“Gotta say, blue eyes, don’t think you got anything to worry about when it comes to making it good for me. Or, uh, us.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” Joseph rests against him, then jolts up, “shit, what time is it?”

“Ten.”

“Shit!”

“Don’t worry” Indrid nestles next to his knees, “we’ll say I had car trouble and you two came to my aid.”

Joseph relaxes back among his boyfriends, “Good call. Just, um, don’t let Duck talk?”

“Only if I get an extra kiss for keepin my mouth shut.”

“Deal.”

#OT4: Government Men and There Cryptid Boyfriends #Indruck #agent stern/duck newton #sternclay #50s au #inclay #meet ugly #reader request #trans duck newton

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barschter000 · 3 years

Text

FANGAN CHARACTER DESIGNS YO HOLLER

I have been encouraged to post some of my fangan peeps' appearances and I shall do so with gratitude

Baiko Omori - Ultimate Lucky Student

Fitting his talent, Baiko looks average. His skin is tan from working in the sun and under his clothes, he is built quite wiry. He has an oval face and clean skin. His slim lips are always curved into a mysterious, blank smile and has a small, straight nose; the rest of his facial features are hidden by his bangs. He has rectangular, attentive, deep and soft blue eyes that display his emotions very clearly.

Baiko wears a dark blue turtleneck sweater and a used-looking light brown trench coat with a stand-up collar and big buttons that reaches his knees. Latter belonged to his grandfather. The collar of the turtleneck conceals an old scar across his throat that was stretched as he grew. He wears straight dark brown suit pants and shiny brown business shoes. He also carries a golden pocketwatch around his neck.

Baiko has long, dark brown hair and his slightly-tousled bangs reach over his eyes and up to the middle of the bridge of his nose. His hair dips a little into the collar of his coat, then bends and continues outside of the collar until his waist. He has an ahoge which curls to a square with soft edges.

Ei Hagakure - Ultimate Ghost Whisperer

Ei is a tall and lanky girl. She has dark skin and in her underweight phases, her bone structure becomes visible. She has a long face with half-closed eyes that make her look smug. Ei has three earlobe piercings on each ear. There are a hanging golden star and moon, a glob of green goo, an eyeball, a cartoon ghost, dango-like puffy balls colored gradient purple and a button.

Ei has dark-brown, almost black, frizzly hair that she keeps in two big buns on her head. Strands are falling into her face and framing her jaw. Inside her two buns, she keeps the antennas of her gear. They extend when she is scared.

Ei wears a lab coat that she has dyed pink. The symbol of her university is printed on the coat's lapel. Under her coat, she wears a loose t-shirt with a light-blue and yellow batik design that is stuffed in her pants. Her sweatpants-like pants are dark purple with a sand-colored strap and (the area on the end of a sweatpants where it tightens around the leg).

Ei's ghost detection device hangs around her neck. It is a vintage lunchbox with a surreal motto on it. One side is filled with a monitor, the other with three speed-indicator-like displays and a foldable keyboard.

Etsuya Iwata - Ultimate Opera Singer

Etsuya has an average body build and a slim face. He wears make-up, dark lilac-blue eyeshadow and thick eyeliner. He also added an artificial beauty mark above his upper lip. Etsuya has brown, rectangular eyes, so dark that they seem black.

As for clothing, Etsuya wears a mix of costumes for his roles. He wears a white loose shirt which is stuffed inside a dark red long and wide skirt with a golden vine pattern. A golden, glittery matador jacket is draped over his shoulders. A tag saying “Prop for: Etsuya Iwata'' is attached to its collar. Additionally, he wears dark brown slippers.

He has blond hair and styles it to round, big curls into a ponytail. A rose is tucked behind his ear.

(Etsuya is kinda just entirely based on the opera "Carmen" aksjjs)

Hideaki Yukiyama - Ultimate Mathematician

Hideaki is a small, thin boy. He has a round face and big, circular bright green eyes. He has a button nose and is usually seen with a wide grin. Hideaki styles his red hair to part in the middle and stick to the side like a clown or an owl.

Hideaki’s daily attire consists of a button-up shirt that looks three sizes too big for his frame, shorts and mid-calf high socks. The shirt is half black and half white, the black part is made out of velvet and has arithmetic operators in all colors and sizes on them. A cheap squirting prank flower is attached to the collar. His socks are green and red striped. His shorts and shoes are part of the uniform of his boarding school, his shorts are therefore strictly gray and straight and his shoes neatly shiny black.

(tbh I'm not satisfied with Hideaki's design yet. His early design was way too bright and chaotic but this one is kinda.... too dark and gray when I imagine Hideaki? I can recolor the shirt in also green/red but I fear that that's too much on the eye??? Idk man I'm an absolute fashion disaster and so is Hideaki am9sjehe)

Ichini - Ultimate Robotics Engineer

To be honest, I have a vision of Ichini but I don't have details since I haven't really done much with robots before. What I know that Ichini is absolutely massive and mostly uses angled shapes. Xe is a robot from the neck down. Xe has square, bulging shoulders, thick arms and giant hands. Instead of feet, xe just has flat metal clumps. In general, xe is very unproportional, wide torso, slim hips, short legs, also considering that xir head is still human and way too small for the rest of xir body. Xir hair is jet black with a cyan stripe, it's styled into one giant spike or multiple spikes that stand up from the back of xir head.

Jun Nagao - Ultimate Escapologist

Jun is of nearly average build, just a little thinner and smaller. His complexion is sickly. He has a round face. Due to his facioplegia, his expression is always stern, almost annoyed. His thin, straight eyebrows, slim lips and empty, light-gray eyes play a role in that. His brown hair is shaven. At the back of his head is a bald spot where the weapon hit that knocked him unconscious.

(The same weapon (probably a bat, a pipe or a baton) caused his head injury that lead to the paralysis of his face. It was the first abduction incident.)

He wears a long-sleeve shirt which is a bit oversized and of a yellow that almost seems dirty. The sleeves end in black leather and have a leather strip with a small buckle attached to them. The leather ends are folded up as not to hinder Jun's hands. The sleeves can be fixated like a straitjacket like a belt on several points on his chest and back, the other straps lined up in two rows like trench coat buttons. The leather looks used.

His tight pants are black and gray striped, horizontally but swirling down his legs. They're held up by an old brown leather belt with metal-rimmed holes on the entirety of it. On each belt loop hangs a different type of lock. Jun wears a chain around his neck like a necklace. The keys hanging from the chain fit the locks on his hip. In between the keys, two bobby pins can also be found.

He wears clunky-looking black boots that reach a little over his ankle, so that the ends of his pant legs disappear in the shoe. The black and yellow shoelaces are tied strangely and differently on each boot.

Kaida Tsutsumi - Ultimate Stock Broker

Kaida is small for her age and has inherited the classic looks of her family: slim, blonde hair and semi-rimless glasses. Her hair is cropped short and parted to a formal side parting. Her clothes are very formal as well: She wears a full, dark green suit, a white shirt and a tie that is held in place by a silver tie pin.

(Hm, I feel like Kaida needs more details in her designs and I really don't know what since they gotta relate to her talent somewhat.)

Kyo Kido - Ultimate Horror Author

Kyo is tall but his bent posture decreases his height. Though he is lanky, he has broad shoulders that don't quite fit him.

Kyo has a long face with slim features and high cheekbones. There are dark circles from tiredness under his white eyes. His hair is straight and dark blue; one side of his head is shaven, the other grown out to his shoulder.

He wears very casual clothing, a black t-shirt with a grey skull on the breast pocket stuffed into black ripped jeans, and worn, dirty white sneakers. Over the t-shirt, he wears a blue checkered flannel shirt. The t-shirt and jeans have strange red stains on them.

(idk if I'll add that as "OfFicIaL" but I just had the most random thought, what if the stains were soup stains that didn't wash out and that's why he doesn't like soup kjwjeheehe, everyone is like "Oh my God, that's probably blood on his clothes, eek, that's so creepy!" and Kyo is just standing there with his soup stains)

Maxis von Läuterbach - Ultimate Knight

Maxis is tall and wiry, however, seems slender. Because they are half-German, half-Novoselic, their complexion is accordingly Caucasian. They have yellow eyes with slits which makes them look dragon-like. They also have a big hawk nose and slim lips. Their hair is of a rather dirty blond, reaches to their chin and is parted in the middle. A golden circlet is placed on their brow.

Maxis' outfit is inspired by German medieval fashion and is mostly in blue and green. They wear a light blue tunic with a damask pattern and a golden belt where they keep their sheathed sword, a long cape, tight leggins, and loose brown leather boots.

(For reference, I searched up some medieval clothing, found this and took inspiration from the guy with the green cape in the bottom right corner. Fun fact, that guy is labeled with "Fürst" which translates to "prince", so yeah even in their clothing, Maxis goes full "You have reached the house of unrecognized talent.")

Miyoko Iwata - Ultimate DJ

Miyoko dresses in loose, mostly white clothing that is splattered with neon green, blue, yellow and pink paint. Her outfit consists of an old jeans jacket, a loose top, and wide ripped pants. She has styled her white hair into many independent ponytails. Most of her face, meaning half of her forehead, her eyes, and half of her cheeks, are covered by her visor. It is a black display with a white rim that displays kaomoji-like eyes in correspondence to her current mood. She has brightly painted nails.

(Yeah, Miyoko just goes >o<. Also when she is so utterly disappointed by something that she doesn't even have words for it, I imagine her visor just displays "......" Also I may or may not have stolen that visor idea and design from Godot from Ace Attorney but yeah, I did.)

Rokuro Nakatani - Ultimate Fraud

Rokuro has a slim, femininely shaped body and a chiseled face. He has slick black hair, one strand is falling into his face. In the style of a true con man, he wears a black suit without a tie and a long coat with a fur collar over his shoulders. His eyes are colored like emeralds and there is always a smug smile on his thin lips. Rokuro wears elaborate earrings and a myriad of big rings with gemstones set in them.

Shiori Ishimaru-Owada - Ultimate Team Captain

Shiori is tall and is built athletically, so she has broad shoulders and is decently muscular. She has an angular face, round eyes and short bushy eyebrows. Her eye color is a sort of pinkish. She has thin faded cut scars on her entire face. Her hair is brown-blackish, sorta shaggy and tamed into the stump of a ponytail. Bangs still fall in her face.

Shiori is dressed according to her talent and mostly in the colors of her ice hockey team: blue and orange. She wears a training jacket with the name of her team on the front and her surname and her number, 11, on the back, orange sport shorts which expose her toned legs, blue sneakers and a simple white shirt.

In addition, she has an elastic sport bandage around her left ankle and blue boxing bandages around her wrists and palms.

Tamae Shiroma - Ultimate Whistleblower

Tamae is a small, chubby girl. She is snuggled into comfortable clothing: a dark blue hoodie, black sweatpants and sneakers. She mostly wears her hood up and under it, a baseball cap that she can pull into her face to hide it. Under her cap, some of her locks spring out onto her forehead. Her hair is dyed lightly purple and she has an undercut at whose sides the dye is fading and her natural hair color, black, is coming through. Most of her hair is hidden under her cap though.

She has a round face, a big nose and squinting ink-black eyes. Her eyebrows aren't dyed and bushy and slightly bent upwards.

#fanganronpa #fangan #fangan oc

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cycat4077 · 4 years

Text

Sheltering An Outcast

Summary: Sonny goes undercover during “Sheltered Outcasts” 17x19 Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: fluff and smoochies with a sprinkle of angst...and maybe a bit of Sonny in only a towel ;) Words: 2848 (sorry it’s a bit long...) AO3 here

Part 6 of the Changes verse (but it can be stand-alone too). (Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5)

It’s evening and you're flaked out on your couch, an empty ice cream container sitting by the wayside, when your phone rings. "Hey Sonny, what's up?" you answer, spirits brightened by the sound of his voice. "Finally finished that difficult case you were working on?"

As you were discovering, some cases posed ridiculous hours, keeping the two of you apart with only the occasional evening together amidst the chaos. Text, calls and Skype eased the separation, but there was nothing better than physically being by his side.

"Yeah, it’s done," replies Sonny. "Thank goodness too. It was a tough one, doll." You hear a heavy sigh on his end and your heart goes out to him. "You busy?" he then asks hopefully, and when you answer in the negative, he adds, "Wanna spend the night?"

A rush of excitement spreads through you. Of course, you want to spend the night! Running around, you stuff a change of clothes into a bag and hop awkwardly, struggling to slip on your pants.

The commute over leaves time to reminisce about the nights you and Sonny actually do get to share at each other's apartments. They're sweet and intimate times. Nothing sexual, just precious moments together without any rush to go home.

Those times bring out the domestic side of Sonny too, being that he always makes sure you feel welcome. For instance, even though he blatantly detests peanut butter, you opened his cupboard one day to find a jar simply because he knows you like to eat it for breakfast.

You also love being privy to his little habits. After practically every shower, Sonny darts between the bathroom and bedroom having forgotten his clean clothes in the latter. With only a towel around his waist, he’ll tell you jokingly not to look, though you can't help sneak a peek at his bare torso still coated in a sheen of water as he runs by.

It’s all these little things that make you fall even more in love with him and excite you for a future with your Italian detective.

-x-

Arriving at Sonny’s apartment, he opens the door and you throw your arms around his neck. Enthusiastically, you pepper kisses across his nose and cheeks, purposefully leaving his lips for last.

Sonny’s smile stretches from ear to ear. Clearly, the affection you shower him with washes away any remaining stress from his latest case. "What'd I do to deserve all that lovin'?" he teases, taking your coat and closing the door.

"Hmmm…" you pretend to think on it. "Gotta be that Italian charm." Winking, you begin shimmying out of your pants, revealing pajama shorts underneath. You then glance over your shoulder and notice Sonny still standing by the door with mouth slightly agape. His baby blues are quite obviously glued to your behind. "Hey, detective!” you call out, batting your lashes and smirking. “My eyes are up here!" It’s hard not to take at least a little pleasure in flirty bouts like these since they never fail to flush Sonny’s cheeks or jumble his words.

"Y-yeah, I-I know, doll. It's just," he closes the distance towards you. "You're so beautiful." Sonny's voice seems to catch in his throat causing your heart to do the same in your chest. He reaches out to cup your face, a thumb brushing tenderly along your cheek. "I'm gonna miss this..."

Your eyebrows knit together. "What?"

Sonny shuts his eyes firmly as if he's guarding a confession and releases a breath through his nose. "I have ta go undercover for a while."

Your eyes widen. "When?!"

Your boyfriend rests his hands on your shoulders, bracing you. "Tomorrow." You pull yourself out of his grasp. "Doll, please!” he begs. “I just found out myself! There's been a few assaults around this shelter for convicted sex offenders and we need a guy on the inside."

How could he just spring this on you? A cramped space packed with ex-cons struggling to get their lives together hardly seems like the safest assignment. What if they don't believe his cover? What if they find out the truth? He could be bashed over the head and no one would give a damn! How could Sonny, a man without an ounce of evil in his body, ever pass for one of them? Sure, he could come off as a little brash sometimes, but not sex offender-levels of it! And how the hell long would he need to be there for, anyway?!

You don't realize that you asked that last part aloud until Sonny responds. "I'm not sure. It all depends on what we can find out and how fast. I hope not too long but who knows..." To say his demeanor is apologetic is an understatement. He isn't any more enthusiastic about this whole thing than you are.

"Why you?!" you protest, half frustrated, half terrified. "Because...because I need you to be careful, Sonny!" The way you say his name is more a desperate plea than an outburst of anger.

"I will! I promise! But I'm still technically the new guy, so it’s kinda on me to take the U.C. assignments no one else wants." And he's right. There's nothing he can do about it. You just have to cherish falling asleep in his arms tonight and pray he stays safe.

-x-

“What about this?” you ask poking your head out of the closet to hold up a tan and green plaid shirt. It’s definitely seen better days.

Sonny turns around from where he’s packing a duffle bag on the bed. “Yeah, that could work,” he agrees. “But where’d ya find it?”

“It was in this box back here labelled ‘Dom’,” you state, parting the dress shirts and suits hanging above your head for a second look.

“That’s dad’s stuff.” Sonny crosses the room and helps you tug the box free from the back corner. “Ma insisted I bring them along when I moved ‘because ya neva know when ya might need ‘em’,” he mocks, attempting his best impersonation of his mother. “I guess she was right.”

“Mothers usually are,” you quip before pulling out a faded pair of thick, denim jeans. “Will these fit?”

Sonny takes the pants to examine their size. “’Should,” he confirms. “They’re from the eighties or somethin’. Dad’s appetite for Ma’s cookin’ sure has made him pack on the pounds over the years…” he chuckles, stretching the waistline back and forth.

“Hey, now! Since I started eating your cooking my jeans fit tighter too!” you say jokingly as you pat your tummy in defence of the Carisi patriarch.

“Jean size doesn’t matter, doll, as long as the heart’s happy ‘n the stomach’s full.” Sonny’s blue eyes lock onto yours, delivering a sincere smile. “And my heart is the happiest it’s ever been.”

Your cheeks flush and you avert your gaze like a bashful teenager. You may not have supermodel proportions, but your heart flutters knowing that Sonny loves you all the same.

The old clothes are the perfect match for Sonny’s alias. Later, as the morning sun trickles through the New York City streets, ‘Dominick Smith’ joins you in the living room clad in an old grey hoodie and his father’s faded jeans. Things are a bit baggy but they’ll do. The two of you spend the next little while rehearsing ‘Smitty’s’ backstory, unnerved that Sonny has to be convincing as someone with such a disgusting past.

“Oh, I almost forgot the ring,” Sonny declares as he jogs to the case-info envelope on the table.

“Huh?” you question as your line of sight follows his movements.

He shakes out a gold wedding band and rejoins you. “Dominick Smith has a missus, rememba? And apparently he wants to better himself so he can go back home to her.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say foolishly, eyes glued to his finger while he delicately slips on the ring. You know it’s stupid, but for a moment your hopes were high and your heart pounded at the inside of your chest. You can’t help but wish the ring was real; that it would symbolize that he is yours forever.

Sonny’s eyes dart between yours and where they’re fixated on his hand. “You okay?” he asks quietly which brings you back to reality.

“Y-yeah,” you manage, forcing a smile.

He then reaches into his pocket and produces a key. “I hope you don’t mind me askin’, but since I dunno how long I’ll be gone for, would ya mind checkin’ in on my place every now and again? Y’know, just ta make sure that no one’s broken in or whateva.”

“Of course, babe,” you reply, accepting the key. But your clouded mind gets the better of you and your eyes widen when you realize your words.

“Babe?” he questions, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I-uh…” You’ve never called him anything other than ‘Sonny’ since the two of you started dating and you’re just not sure if he’s comfortable with anything different.

However, before you have a chance to articulate an excuse, your Italian detective leans his forehead against yours and sneaks in a swift kiss. “I could get used ta you callin’ me that,” he grins. And you can’t help but giggle. This sweet man keeps giving you more reasons to love him.

With spirits lifted, you stand back and place a hand on your hip before drawing a finger up to your lips to study his appearance.

“What?” Sonny questions, scanning himself over self-consciously.

“Something’s not quite right…” You take a couple steps forward and tangle your fingers in his hair. It’s soft and uncharacteristically floppy without any gel. You continue to muss it up, carding through it and enjoying the texture.

“You done?” he asks, pursing his lips, unamused.

“Almost,” you utter as you poke your tongue out of the corner of your mouth. “There!” You step back to admire your handiwork.

Sonny leans over to glance in the wall mirror. A horrified expression overtakes his features. “What did ya do?!” he exclaims.

You throw your head back and laugh. “I made you look the part a little more, silly!” His dark locks now stick up in multiple directions.

Sonny narrows his eyes and gives you a hard look. However, the slightest of smiles plays at the corner of his mouth and you know he secretly enjoyed it.

Then Sonny’s watch lights up, giving off a beep which catches both your attentions. You know what it means and so does he. It’s time.

Tears begin to rim your eyes. “Please be careful,” you speak in a shaky voice. You wish you could protect him and keep him safe throughout this whole ordeal.

“I will be,” he reassures. “This will all be over soon.” Sonny steps towards you and gathers you in his arms. The two of you lock into an embrace and you feel a squeeze that’s filled with desperation. It’s then that you understand just how nervous Sonny actually is about all this. You hug him a little tighter, both clinging to one another like a life source.

“I love you,” he says lingering his touch along your arms.

“I love you, too.” You lean up and kiss him before burying your face in his chest for one last embrace.

-x-

“On my way home now to shower and change before I have to head back. So, I have a few minutes if you're free." Is what his text reads.

You don't think you've ever made it to Sonny's apartment in such record time. After five days of no contact and being consumed by a worry that made you feel like throw up 24/7, his return lifts a giant weight off your shoulders.

You eagerly knock on the door and a disheveled looking man in the same old grey hoodie and faded blue jeans opens it. His hair is greasy and he looks a little pale, though you suppose nearly a week of cruddy food and shoddy sleep will do that to a person. None of that matters, however, because a large smile of relief spreads across your face from knowing he’s safe and naturally, your first instinct is to jump into his arms.

But this time Sonny stops you. "Don't, doll. I stink,” he scrunches his nose in disgust.

A laugh bubbles free from your chest. "Okay, babe!"

"Lemme go shower 'n brush my teeth, then ya can kiss me," winks Sonny as he welcomes you into his apartment. It seems this undercover gig hasn't completely broken his spirit.

"Hurry up then, stinky!" you chide, hopping onto his couch impatiently.

Sonny runs off in the direction of the bathroom and in no time, you hear the whoosh from the faucet and spray of the shower.

A few minutes later, the water shuts off and a familiar darn it! resonates from within. You smile to yourself knowing exactly the cause and perch over the sofa arm to watch the show.

As predicted, the door opens and a billow of steam releases into the hall. The patter of wet feet follow as Sonny comes scurrying out, darting into the bedroom for clothes. You're about to unleash a cheeky catcall when you notice a large purplish splotch resting above the white towel tied around Sonny's waist. You immediately jump up to intercept him before he can duck back into the bathroom. "What the hell is that?" you demand, tone no longer light and flirty.

"What?" he questions, perplexed.

"That!" you point to his discoloured side.

He contorts to glance in the direction of your finger. "Oh."

You continue to stare him down when he fails to provide an explanation.

"It's nothing, doll," he lies, clutching his clothes to his chest. But your disapproving eyes forces him to confess. "Okay...I got jumped. It wasn't by the guys in the shelter though! It was outside 'n they were targetin' everyone they thought could be a suspect in the most recent assault."

They?! You're suddenly overwhelmed by his close encounter. "Oh my God, Sonny! Are you all right?!" He could have come out of this a whole lot worse.

"Yeah, I'm okay. It'll heal. Actually, it was one of the guys from the shelter who came to my rescue. Who knew..." Sonny's voice trails off as his mind drifts.

But all you care about is Sonny. Focusing on the bruise, you hesitantly reach out and give it a light touch. His skin is warm and damp, yet turns to goosebumps under your fingertips.

Sonny gazes down at you silently and you shift your eyes to meet his. It's only been five days but it feels like a lifetime since you've seen his handsome face. The gentle curve of his lips. The blueness of his eyes. Suddenly he feels so close. Nothing but a towel separates you. Your heart rate picks up as every inch of you aches for the man you love.

"I gotta go get ready.” The tension snaps with Sonny’s soft grin and breathy voice.

"I know," you say reluctantly. "I missed you."

"Missed you too, doll." His left hand finds the back of your neck, cradling your head as he leans down with closed eyes to place a kiss to your lips. Maybe it's the steam from the shower, but it's the type of kiss that makes your insides melt. Then Sonny parts and slips back into the bathroom.

Lightheaded, you make your way back to the couch and sit down. Twenty minutes later the door opens again and the Sonny Carisi you're most familiar with steps out. A three-piece suit and crisp tie. Slicked back hair and smooth cheeks. Though he looks perfect to you, Sonny is still fretting over his hair, combing it back at the temples to work in the last of the gel.

"How do I look?" he inquires, holding his arms out to the sides.

"Handsome as ever!" you give a cheerful smile.

Sonny grins. "Sorry I have ta run, but I need ta get back to the precinct. We've got a major lead in the case."

"All good," you wave dismissively. "I'm just glad you're all right and that I got a chance to see you."

Sonny echoes your sentiments while scurrying around to gather his things. You get up once he starts heading for the door. "I dunno when I'm gonna be back t’night," he frowns. "I'd love ya to stick around but don't wanna keep ya waitin'."

"No worries. Besides, you're gonna need a good night's sleep after almost a week in that place." You smile up at Sonny lovingly and take the apartment key out of your pocket. "Here."

"Nuh-no! That's your copy now, doll." He folds your fingers towards your palm, enclosing the key within.

"Really?" You're ready to burst with joy.

"Really," he confirms with a kiss.

"Well in that case," you smile against his lips, "maybe I'll sneak back in here tonight and we can indulge in some mediocre takeout and bad tv."

"Ya read my mind, doll,” he beams. “Ya read my mind."

Notes: Hope you enjoyed this one! It was originally just going to be angsty but I tried to liven it up a bit with some flirty stuff.

Also, here’s a bit of a preview of what’s next. Let’s just say that there’s trouble in paradise... (Full version up now!)

"Doesn't matter. I want to be with you -" "No." Sonny cuts you off firmly. It's the first time he's raised his voice to you in any way. It shakes you to your core, leaving a horribly sour feeling in the pit of your stomach. You try to dismiss it because you know he's tired and scared but the tears still fall when Sonny hangs up the phone.

#Sonny Carisi #Sonny Carisi x Reader #Sonny Carisi x You #Sonny x Reader #law and order svu #svu fanfic #my fanfic #Sonnyshine of my life #Author may or may not have a thing for hot mess Carisi aka Sonny without gelled hair #Thanks for reading folks #I truly appreciate the notes on my fics #This community is great :)#The Changes verse

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bodyswapmischief · 4 years

Text

Authentic Costumes: Santa Claus

I came home and my boyfriend, Manny, was still cooking. His chocolate skin glistened with the heat from the kitchen. His small arms and slim frame worked hard, as he quickly moved around. He was in his zone.

However, I felt guilty. Before the holidays started I lost my job. I applied to a number of jobs but, no one was hiring. Now, Henry has been working double to support us. "Oh, your home." He quickly glanced at me and went back to mixing. "How was the gym."

"It was okay. There was just a lot on my mind. " I said as I walked to him. I easily wrapped my arms around him and gave him a kiss on his flour stained check. "And how has my little baker been doing?"

He wiped the flour from his face as he quickly gave me a peck. And weakly pushed my arms off him. "Well as you can see, it's been going. But there is still alot of work to do. I need to make more of everything: cookies, cupcakes, tamales."

"Well do you need any help." I asked.

He stopped and looked at me and laughs. "No, no, no. The last time you helped the cookies were to salty, the cupcakes didn't rise, and the tamales came out dry. And, then when I put you incharge of mixing you broke multiple bowls. And then.."

"Okay ... okay, I get it. I won't help." I sigh."Just go relax." He smiles back and starts mixing again. I sluggishly walk to the living room. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot, a package came for you."

I continued to walk towards the living room and saw the package. The logo confirmed it was from Authentic Costumes. The box was way bigger than I thought it would be. I open the box and revealed a small vial sitting on top of a santa costume. I pick them both up and underneath was a full wardrobe of clothes. Triple X shirts, size 50' waist pants, and oversized underwear. What is all this for?, I thought.

But, before I could even think about Manny walked in. "I've been curious all day so, what was in the box." I look at him holding the Santa Claus costume. "Well it was supposed to be a surprise..., I got a seasonal job as a Santa Claus." My boyfriend laughed, "Are you serious? Was it a phone interview? They do know you have rock hard abs, right?."

My face blushed with slight embarrassment, "Yes and they didn't care. They said anyone can be Santa and offered me 20,000 dollars for the month. So, I said yes. And, then they said they would send me a package to look more like the role." I snapped back.

There was some silence and then I pulled a card from the box. "Begin transformation process by drinking blue vile. The changes will activate once you put on the suit. The transformation will not be permanent. Don't be alarmed." "What transformation ... are they talking about magic..." He asked. "I don't know ... I guess." I replied back. I open the vial. "Well here goes nothing." I start to drink it. "Are you sure.." Manny tried to talk before I drank it But, it was to late.

The blue liquid went down my throat. And, a tingling sensation filled my body. I saw Manny look at me in horror. "What's happening to you." I looked down. The blue liquid was spreading through every vein in my body. My body glowed as a blue road map of viens spread through out my body. I tried to talk, but couldn't. My legs gave out and I fell to the floor. My body started convulsing.

Manny ran to my side. "Daniel! Daniel!" He screamed in terror. He held me with his small body. His hands shook with distress. And, as quickly as it started, it stopped. I laid up against my boyfriend. My body was exhausted and my breathing was heavy. "Are you okay?" He asked putting down his phone and his voice was still shaken. He started rubbing my strong chest and back.

"I think so." I whispered due to a lack of energy. "What were you thinking." He told me. "Why did you just drink a mysterious blue liquid from a sketchy ass company. You could have died. "But, I didn't," I smiled as strength returned to my body. "Plus the company is legit. They do a lot of events for rich people. And, we need the money." I rubbed my head. I get up and start taking off my clothes.

"What the fuck are you doing now?" He asked. "I'm going to put on the santa suit on." I put on the oversized underwear and pants. Manny just looked at me and shook his head. He seemed to be calming down. He laughed seeing me in the bigger clothes. "Damn, we could both fit in those pants."

I grabbed the Santa hat and put it on. I didn't feel anything. And, then I put the Santa coat on. I looked hot as my six pack and pecs were exposed in the open Santa coat. Then I started filling itchy. My whole body was itchy and it felt like little pins started poking out of my skin. I turned to look at the mirror and Manny joined me. Both of us shocked by the changes. Hair started to fill my buff hairless body. My chest and stomach were covered. I could even fill back hair starting to rub against the Santa coat. I knew the same was happening to my legs, thighs and ass.

Finally, stubble appeared on my face and continued to grow out. Until, I had a beard that would make any lumberjack jealous. "Who knew Santa was so hairy." Manny said as he rubbed my hairy muscular chest.

But, my body didn't stop changing. My tanned skin started to lighten. At first, I didn't know what was happening. Small changes to my face and body started appearing. I started looking stronger and better looking. I finally realized I was getting older. I was aging but, my body still had the muscle mass of a 25 year old that spent all his time at the gym. It was erotic. Then my hair started going grey and the lines on my face started to deepen. The hair on top of my head started to fall off. I was a silver fox. I look at my boyfriend and both of our faces were in shock.

But, still the changes didn't stop. Underneath my furry stomach, I could see my abs start to disappear. My body was growing with fat. My face became rounder. I could feel a double chin form under my beard. My chest started sagging with fat. My stomach became enormous. My thighs thickened up. And, my dick started getting buried under pelvic fat.

"Well, fuck me." Manny said. " Magic actually fucking exists. I can't believe it. This is fuckin crazy." "I know. It feels so different. I'm in shock. It's me but, everything feels different." I said exploring my new body. He comes over and also starts poking me in places. "How do you feel?" He said.

"Heavy." I laugh and my whole body jiggles. "I can't imagine having to live life like this. I can feel parts of my body touching each other, that never did before. I don't even think, I can touch my toes. Fuck, it's weirding me out. I can feel all of this kinda affecting my personality. I feel lazy, slow, hungry and tired. Just standing here is taking so much energy. I'm not use to it. Here help me take the suit off."

Manny goes behind me and peels the coat off me. I take of the pants and underwear, revealing my shrunken dick and enlarge fat pad. I let a couple seconds past. "Do you see anything changing." I ask my boyfriend. He just shakes his head. "What do you mean. It's supposed to reverse when I take the costume off."

Panicking I pull out the instructions. Manny squeezes against my side to read them at the same time. "Here, it says the transformation starts when I put on the costume." I say. "Yeah but, that doesn't mean you revert after taking it off. It just says the transformation is not permanent." He answers. He proceeds to look around at the box and picks up the vial. "Here the vial says the transformation last for about a month." He adds.

My heart sank. "So, I'm stuck like this for month." I cried. "I can't be stuck like this. What about the gym? I'm going have to walk out in public like this. What about you? Are you okay with dating a fat old man for a month?" "Luckily they sent all these new clothes you can wear." He joked. I just glared at him. "What it's funny." He laughs. "You make a pretty good daddy bear." He flirted. "What!? Does this turn you on?"

He smiles and walks into the kitchen. He quickly comes back with a plate of food. "I think I can make this work. I don't want my Santa daddy to go hungry." He winked. He motioned for me to sit down, as he fed me. I didn't realize how hungry I was. I was never one to indulge like this, but my body had a mind of it's own. Eating gave my body a new sense of pleasure. "Here take the plate big boy." He handed me the plate of cookies and cupcakes. I continued eating.

"I think you should take the month to enjoy your new body. Give in to your hunger. Don't get me wrong I love your real body. But, I also have a feeder fetish. Now, I can expirence my fantasy."

Manny started kissing my body. My neck. My fat chest. He rubbed my new boobs and my body rushed with pleasure. He sucked on my fat tits and I moaned while I continue to eat. He moved down and kissed my growing belly. He took his hand and pushed my fatpad down. He reveals as much of my dick that he could and started sucking. I continued to moan in deep pleasure.

As, I finished the last bite of food, I cummed into his mouth. My dick was still hard. " Come on big boy." He positioned our bodies so I could have easy penetration into his ass, at my new weight. I was worried that my dick was no longer going to be big enough. But, I squeezed against his ass. His check's helped pushed my fatpad and a decent amount of my dick entered his ass. I began thrusting and my body jiggled from the motion. My breathing became heavy. It was more intense than any work out at the gym. My hairy body became wet with sweat.

We both orgasmed at the same time., breathing heavy. Now, laying side by side he seemed even smaller then when I was in my original body. He Pat's my stomach and lays his head on my boobs. Maybe this month won't be so bad. And, maybe when I revert back, I will start working on developing my own real fat stomach.

#male #body #swap #mischief #weight #gain #age modification #bear tf #bear transformation #transformation #tf

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sestra-inestro · 5 years

Text

The Carry On - (1/5)

Pairings: mob!bucky x fem!reader

A/N: This is the series that is inspired by the oneshot I wrote like two weeks ago. This took me forever and is gonna be the long, crappy, filler part of the series but the rest with be much better and I wrote part two first because I’m a doof. I’ve also been in a film noir, gangster/Tarantino mood so als inspired by them. Alrighty enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of smut, no actual smut because I’m a TEASE, mentions of torture and violence.

The Carry On - mini series part one.

You sighed as you picked at the sleeve of your shirt. Waiting for Bucky was taking forever and he was already late. You were supposed to be picking out the invitations to your wedding today, before you met him for dinner. You had done most of the planning yourself considering his demanding work arrangements, which wasn’t his fault entirely. But being one of the city’s biggest Mob Bosses, half of the blame lands on him because he causes half the trouble. This was supposed to be one of the few things you’d choose together.

Looking at your phone again, you sigh before getting up.

“Leaving?” The woman at the counter asks. She’s been watching you wait for your fiancé for the last 40 minutes.

“Yep.” You approach the counter and look down at the many examples she had laid out before. Your eyes scanned over them before pointing to a grey background with white patterns in the corners. “That one.”

She nodded her head before collecting the rest of the examples. “We will have ready as soon as we can, Ms June.”

You huffed before turning to the door. “Take your time.” You called back before leaving the store.

Sam, who was assigned to be by your side whenever you went out, noticed you leave and pushed off the wall he was leaning on and ran after you.

“June!” He called out, catching up to you. “You’re leaving already?”

“Yep.” You said without care.

“But Bucky said he’d leave soon.” Sam raised his eyebrow, looking at his phone.

“Then you can tell him I’m going home now and I’ll meet him at dinner.” You informed him. “Or I can tell him myself. I’m done waiting.”

“No I’ll tell him.” Sam assures you before typing away at his phone.

You continued to walk down the small street of stores to the car as Sam received a message back from Bucky.

“He’s not happy.” Sam told you.

“I’ll deal with him.” You said before you reached the car.

Sam moves in front of you to open the door for you.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Sam smirked at you as you stepped into the car. As Sam shut the door and walked around to the drivers seat, your phone pinged with a message from Bucky.

B: Sorry baby doll

You rolled your eyes, sighed and shoved your phone in your bag. This has happened many times already, someone had him caught up at the office or the warehouse. You didn’t mind him working, you just wished he’d stop making promises he couldn’t keep.

Bucky stared at the message he sent, hoping you’d reply. He knows he messed up by missing another part of the wedding planning. Really he didn’t care if he had a say in the wedding planning at all. He wanted to see what you created, see you happy with things you liked surrounding you, in the prettiest dress you picked. He didn’t care if you even had a wedding at all, all he wanted was you to be his wife.

He proposed fairly early into your relationship, because he immediately knew that you were the one. You turned a blind eye to his malicious work ways and his alliances, the amount of men that come and go through the house. You’d said you always loved some company, even with just the house staff. You felt safer knowing you weren’t alone.

He also loved the way you shuddered underneath him and the way you circled your hips on top of him when he brought you release again and again.

A pained groan brought Bucky out of his mind.

“C’mon, Zemo.” Bucky sighed in frustration and shoved his phone in his pant pocket and turned to the man tied up in the chair. “Haven’t we gone at this long enough? I have a date with my future wife.”

Zemo huffed, his head that hung low bounced as he coughed out the blood that had pooled in his mouth from the punches Steve had landed in his face. Steve stood behind him wiping the blood from his knuckles.

“The days are long.” Zemo croaked out. “How many punches you got in you?”

Steve threw down the paper towel and gripped Zemo’s hair, yanking his head back by his scalp. “How many do you think you can take?” He growled in Zemo’s face.

“As many as you can give.” Zemo spat, some blood landing in Steve’s face.

Steve flinched and closed his eyes. Bucky watched as Steve slowly stood and wiped a hand down his face. Steve moves to punch Zemo in the face again but Bucky grabbed his arms.

“Woah, there buddy.” He pulled the handkerchief out of his breast pocket and handed it to Steve. “Take a break.”

Steve scoffed, snatching the handkerchief from Bucky and walking away.

“Now you’ve pissed my friend off.” Bucky leaned down to look Zemo in the eye. “Which is why I’m giving you one more chance.” Bucky raised a finger. “Now I’m not gonna pluck out any of you teeth or anything because we’ve been here way too long now. You just need to tell me the names of the people who robbed my cartel tell last week, or you stay here to sleep in the cold winters night of this nice, lovely, metal scaffolding warehouse of mine, where you’ll probably freeze to death.”

Zemo glared at Bucky’s face. His mouth clamped shut.

To his silence, Bucky clicked his tongue and shook his head. Turning on the balls of his feet, he gestured to Steve that they were done.

“Sleep tight, Zemo.” Bucky said carefree as he waltz towards the door. “Oh. And feel free to scream for help. Nobody can hear you.” Bucky winked at the tied man before stepped out and sliding the massive door shut.

Steve stood next to him and locked the warehouse door.

“That bastard.” Steve muttered.

“You know, maybe you should stick to be the good guy, bad guy Steve kinda scares me.” Bucky said to his best friend as they walked towards their cars.

“Yep, you go back to being bad guy.” Steve loosens his tie and wipes a hand over his face. “They all just spit on me.”

As they approached the cars, some of their men stepped out with guns and full uniform.

“I knew you were never gonna let him sit here by himself.” Steve chuckled as he watch Bucky’s men take point around the left side of the warehouse.

“Fuck no.” Bucky huffed, crossing his arms and he watched Steves men take point of the right side of the warehouse. “I’ll also knew you would never, either.”

Steve nodded, and smirked. He also crossed his arms and watched. “I also have men in the grass around this area.”

“Nice.” Bucky tapped him on the shoulder.

They had been best friends since childhood and nothing stopped them from becoming the kings of the city’s together. Their own businesses, own men and a shared alliance with Tony Stark, Thor Odinson and his half brother Loki who he shares a business with and T’Challa. They keep the peace with each other and work together with the others to try to keep business between them private. But recently, all five businesses men have had their cartel movements infiltrated and had finally caught one of the men involved with it. They also have suspect that an old partner of Tony’s, Brock Rumlow is involved too but they haven’t been able to catch him.

Bucky sighed before checking his watch. “Shit.” He hisses. “I have to get ready to pick up my lady.” Bucky stated as he walked around the car.

Steve rolled his eyes at the mention of you.

“Oh yeah, can’t forget about her.” He said dryly.

“Oh stop. I didn’t pick on you when you married Peggy.” Bucky eyed his friend.

“Yeah, because we had known Peggy for years.” Steve defended his wife.

“And you love her, right?” Bucky asked opening his car door.

Steve have him a ‘duh’ look.

“Well I’m in love with June, Stevie. I can’t help it.” Bucky said, sitting in the driver seat and turning on the engine, rolling down the windows to see Steve bending down to look at him with his brow raised.

“You barely know her.” Steve said with a dull tone.

“I’ve actually gotten to know her very. Inside and out.” Bucky winked at Steve.

Steve groaned in disgust. “Get out of here you maniac.”

“Bon voyage, my friend.” Bucky waved before driving off.

You had just finished putting on your dress, with the help of Rita, Bucky’s longtime General housemaid. After you shimmied into a body suit to tighten your body under your dress, she helped you climb into a classy form fitting black dress and fix up your make-up.

When you finished getting all your stuff together, Rita informed you that Bucky was here.

You trudged your way out of the bedroom and stopped at the top of the stairs, seeing Bucky looking up at you from the living room with wild flowers in his hand. You, still vaguely annoyed at him, gave him a look with a hand on your hip.

Bucky smiled sheepishly. “You’re beautiful.”

“Uh huh.” You responded.

“I’m a lucky man.” He tried again.

“I’m sure.”

Bucky sighed at your short answers to him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Bucky looked up at you with puppy eyes. “I really wanted to be there but I got caught up. We got closer to the people who have been stealing our shit and this guy just would not give up and...” He trailed off as you have him an unimpressed look.

“Babe, it was just the invitations.” He tried to reason. “I can help you pick out the cake?”

“I did that last week.” You said, finally giving it to him. “And it’s not about the invitations Buck, it’s the fact that you promised me that you would be there. That maybe this was something that we could do together besides actually getting married. Or will I have to do that by myself too?”

“Of course not, baby doll.” Bucky’s eyes were now sad. He didn’t realise how much you wanted his input on this wedding.

As you saw his eyes, you felt a little pang if guilt in your chest. He does work hard to keep you safe in the house and he does pay for everything. He doesn’t treat you bad or insult you. And when he is home, you’re like his goddess.

You huffed before stomping down the steps towards him. He watched as the annoyed scowl on your face twisted into one of confliction. You walked up to him and looked him in his gorgeous baby blue eyes.

He offered you the wild flowers, giving you the biggest set of puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I don’t want to be a brat.” You said, taking the flowers.

“You’re not babe. You’re right.” He rubbed your arms. “I keep making promises I can’t keep. I knew I wasn’t going to make it.”

“Sam said you were gonna be pissed when I left.” You looked at your feet.

“Yeah at myself.” He put a finger under your chin and gently lifted your face to look at him. “I’m sorry baby.”

He pouted before leaning in slowly and capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.

“I’m still annoyed.” You said after pulling away. “No matter how guilty I feel, I can still be annoyed at you.” You pointed at him with the flowers before moving to the kitchen to put the flowers in water.

Bucky smirked as he watched you. “That’s why I brought you something else.”

You pushed open the kitchen door to see a little, grey Staffordshire Bull Terrier puppy sitting patiently on the floor, it’s tail wagging at the sight of a human.

You froze and gasped. The little puppy dropped its head and shuffled its way towards your feet.

Carefully you bent down and the puppy crawled into your hands and you lifted it to your chest. You turned back to Bucky who had a hopeful smile on his face.

“Oh my gosh.” You said with wife eyes and the puppy nuzzled under your chin.

“Do you like him?” Bucky asked with his hands behind his back.

“I love him.” You kissed the puppy on the head, earning little licks in return.

“I thought he would ease your your hostility against me for a little while.” Bucky joked and you frowned at him.

“You can’t buy me a puppy every time you annoy me.” You said and scratched the puppy behind the ear.

“Of course not.” Bucky chuckled. “We’d have a full house.”

You smooched the puppy as Bucky stepped forward.

“Am I forgiven?” He gives you the puppy eyes again.

“Hmm.” You pretend to think. “Sure.” You give him a smile.

Bucky’s face brightens and he leans forward to capture your lips again.

After finally trusting Rita to look after the puppy and separating you from him, Bucky drove you to a quiet area of town and led you to an empty restaurant.

You frowned as you got out of the car. “This is dinner?”

“Yep.” Bucky smiled brightly.

The restaurant looked extremely fancy, and even with your dress and heels, you felt under-dressed.

“There’s no one in there.” You said, taking his arm as he offered it to you.

“I know. I booked the entire night to ourselves.” Bucky grasped your hand and kissed your fingers. “We have nothing but time.”

Bucky opened the door for you to reveal a dimly lit dining room, a massive fish tank lining the wall filled with different types of gold fish, and only one table with two chairs. Faux plants lined the walls and the windows to the restaurant, giving it a homey feel and the air was warm. But you still felt the tiniest bit intimidated.

As soon as you say down, waiters placed a covered dish in front of you, shocking you.

Bucky smirked at your face, confused by the silver cover of the plate.

“I ordered your favourite.” Bucky winked.

You scoffed. “I doubt this place does cheese burgers with extra cheese.” You laughed and placed a napkin on your lap.

Bucky winked again before taking off the cover and making you laugh. Seated on your plate was a neatly made In N Out burger and fries.

“I thought you’d appreciate this more than what this place normally makes.” Bucky’s eyes watched you as you smiled down at your food. “And I hope the Double Double counts as extra cheese.”

You looked at him ridiculously. “Um, no.” You held up a finger, ready to educate him. “It has two slices of cheese with two patties. It’s evened, not extra.”

“Alright, alright.” Bucky laughed and held his hands in surrender. “Enjoy your food.”

You pushed back the sleeves of your dress and your hair out of your face while muttering. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Bucky admired the way you visibly relaxed. He was going to take you to the formal dinner that Tony was hosting to discuss the recent events in business. But considering so much he has missed with you, he decided to take you somewhere where just you and him could enjoy yourselves.

You ate your food and enjoyed discussing some of the recent decisions you’d made about the wedding. He approved of every single decision.

“So,” You started after finishing off the burger and picking up a fry. “What’s new in the business?”

Bucky smiled at your interest.

“Well, we caught a guy that had been invading our private sales.” Bucky spoke in code, incase of any rats hanging around.

“You give them a good talking to?” You asked.

“Real good talking to.” Bucky wipes his mouth talking to you more. “We got some new information from Natasha. She just came back from her honeymoon.”

Natasha Romanoff was Tony’s own little mole that had been placed undercover as Natalie Rushman inside the gang of Hydra about a year before you met Bucky. She was feeding them as much information as she could while also playing the newest, youngest and most loveable wife of Alexander Pierce.

“Oh how nice.” You smiled. You’d met Natasha before and she was gorgeous.

“It might be another year before she can come back and work for us.”

“That’s good.” You say before munching on your last fry.

“God, I love you.” He mumbled under his breath. There was no way you could be real.

“What’s that baby?” You raised a brow as you heard him mumble.

“I said I can’t wait to marry you.” He told you, watching your eyes fill with love before you launched at him, attaching to his lips in a passionate attack.

3 months later, the wedding reception.

The reception was in full swing. You had a slightly non-traditional wedding. No one heard your vows except you and Bucky, then you joined your friends for the reception. You had finally met T’Challa and his right hand woman Okoye. As well as Steve’s wife Peggy and Tony’s wife Pepper. A bunch of your family had turned up and some friends. Once you and Bucky had your first dance, you changed into something much more moveable so you could enjoy the wedding comfortably.

You were browsing through the snack table when a voice boomed behind you.

“Mrs Barnes.” The deep voice said.

You turned to see a handsomely long blonde man with blue eyes, smiling bright at you with his hand out to you.

You reached and accepted it.

“Thor Odinson.” He introduces himself.

Your face lit up in realisation. “Oh, Mr Odinson. Nice to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, M’lady.” He said charmingly. “I hear you use to be a Vet Nurse.”

You nodded. “Yes, in fact that how I met Bucky.”

“Oh really?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, him and Tony came stumbling into the clinic I was working at chasing someone.” You explained, remembering that moment you first laid eyes on Bucky.

“Wow. I do love animals myself, though I never could have become a vet myself.” He smiled to himself. “I get too attached.”

“I love them too. I always wanted to work with animals. Just didn’t think it would end so soon.” In truth, you missed being surrounded by animals and meeting new ones.

“June.” Bucky’s voice interrupted. “Mind if I steal my wife back, Odinson?” He stepped to you and wrapped an arm around your waste.

Thor smiles at his ally before raising his hands in a playfull surrender. “She’s all yours.” Thor winked at you. “Nice to meet you, June.”

“You too.” You wave him off.

Bucky looks down at you, gosh he looked so good in his suit.

“What?” You giggled at him.

“You’re just so beautiful.” He rubbed his nose against yours.

You reach up gently and wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him down softly to meet you lips. You couldn’t get enough of kissing him today. He was finally your husband and you couldn’t wait to love him with all of your body.

You deepened the kiss by turning your head, your tongue massaging itself against his and you other arm gripping onto his shoulder. He pulls your body against him, pressing your chest against his and feeling the strength of his heart beat. His hands gripped you in such a delicious way that you wanted to melt in his embrace.

You pulled away for air and Bucky leant his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

“Are you ready?” He asked, breath fanning against your face.

You look around to see that some guests had gone and it was now a relaxed mood, not that you cared. You just wanted to be with him.

“Yes.” Your voice came out on almost a beg.

“Alright.” Bucky pressed another soft kiss to your lips before pulling you with him to the small stage where a lone microphone stood.

“Hello, everyone.” Bucky pulled the attention of the rest of the people in the room. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate this beautiful woman and me. But now it is time we part.” Bucky smirked to the crowd. “We have to start our honeymoon.” You and Bucky then ran out of the venue, giggling like children and into the car on the way to the hotel you’d spend the night at. Making out and touch in the car, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on each other. As soon as the car stopped, you and Buck leapt out and into the building. Bucky fumbled with the room key while you kissed his neck, purring in his ear and gripping him any where you could get a hand full.

As he finally got it open, he pulled you inside and slammed you against the door as it shut. He attacked your neck and moved his hands to take off your outfit. His hands were rushed and he couldn’t wait to feel your skin. Getting frustrated with the fabric, he ripping it at the sides causing you to gasp.

“You only needed it for one night anyway.” He mumbled as he immediately latched onto your nipple, one hand gripping the skin on your hip and the other kneading your other breast.

Your head rested against the door with your eyes closed, enjoying his lips on you. Warmth grew in your core, wetness slicking up your folds as Bucky made his way down your body. He massaged your skin as his kisses trail down to your navel.

“I want to feel every inch of you.” He mumbled against your skin.

His lips were hot against your skin as he sucked a purple bruise on you hipbone. The fabric that had been ripped from your body and bunch up at your knees was now being pushed down you legs and you stepped out of it.

Bucky stood back up and tucked his hands under your thighs, making you jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

He handled you gently, making sure your legs shook at the touch of his tongue to your core and his tip to your sweat spot. He made sweet love to you and you were so glad he could fuck you like that for the rest of your life.

Tags: @kiwi-comics

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eldritch-obscuritea · 4 years

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The Fog In The Morning, Part 2

AN: This one took longer than I expected, but here it is :) Also, I guess I’m doing tags for this now? Let me know if anyone wants to be included!

Tag(s): @scary-lasagna

Word Count: 973

Content: none that I can think of

First Part Here!

Liu stood again in the corner of the school’s parking lot. A gentle breeze blew pink petals into a small cyclone, lifting his light brown hair slightly. He squinted as he scanned the sea of recently liberated elementary school students. Liu wanted to get home, he was all too ready to be done with St. Mackillop’s for good, but he had to wait for Jeff.

Jeff was nowhere to be seen, probably obscured by energetic kids and the legs of their parents, but Liu did spot a familiar mop of red hair. The kid was easily visible due to his height, and apparently had a good vantage point since he saw Liu as well. His brow furrowed when his grey eyes met Liu’s green ones, and after hesitating for a moment he began to approach him, one hand raised in greeting.

“Hey.”

Liu nodded in response.

The boy paused, waiting for Liu to speak. When it became clear that Liu had no intention of doing so, he rocked back on his feet and sighed, pushing his red hair back from his forehead. Then he cleared his throat, and Liu noticed with some surprise that the kid looked almost as awkward as he felt.

“Look,” said the boy, “I’m sorry about what happened.” He paused again, but Liu didn’t reply. “Really.” He shifted, putting his hands in the pockets of the school uniform and looking at his shoes before he returned his gaze to Liu. “I just wanted to say I didn’t mean bad by it.”

Liu looked up at the redhead, who was pushing his hair back again. Nervous habit? All in all, he seemed genuine enough so Liu opened his mouth and was about to say that it was alright, that maybe he was crazy, when he heard Jeff shouting from across the parking lot.

“You get away from Liu, you arse!”

The boy jumped, looking around. He saw Jeff storming towards them and turned quickly, starting to speed walk away. Before he disappeared around the corner of the school building, he stopped, looked back at Liu, and mouthed a “sorry” before he hurried out of sight.

As Liu watched him leave, Jeff ran up, panting slightly. He scowled at the redhead’s retreating figure, then huffed and turned to Liu. “Kid’s lucky I didn’t get here any faster. No teachers to stop me, and even if they wanted to, it’s the last day of school.” He adjusted the straps on his backpack, and nodded at Liu. “You ready?”

Liu’s eyes flicked back to where the boy had disappeared. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.” He started walking, and Jeff followed suit.

The sun was bright, but not uncomfortably so as they approached the exit to the parking lot. It glinted off the cheap chainlink fence, and Liu thought to himself that Mackillop’s wasn’t so bad, even if he was glad to be done with the place.

“Man, you’re lucky,” Jeff sighed.

Liu nodded. Jeff shrugged, then stretched, his arms reaching high above his head. “Really though,” he continued, “next year shouldn’t be so bad. A buncha teachers aren’t gonna be there. Oh, and that kid, whats-his-face? He’s leaving too.”

Liu looked at him, curious. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Jeff looked up at the sky, shading his eyes. “Told him that if I ever saw him near you again he’d regret it.” His face broke out into a grin. “Man, I kinda wish he didn’t listen. I gave him a black eye for weeks, didya see that? And I was the most popular kid in school for even longer!”

Liu shook his head slightly, but otherwise stayed quiet. Noticing his subdued behavior, Jeff punched Liu lightly on the arm. “Least you’ll be out of there, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Liu. He smiled slightly.

The two boys got home without much incident, and Liu pushed open the door.

“Hellooo!” Jeff hollered. “Guess who’s gonna be here all day every day for the next three months!”

A somewhat skinny man rolled into the hallway on an old office chair, smiling at the two boys. “Well it certainly can’t be my two boys, Neff and Stu!”

Liu rolled his eyes, grinning. “C’mon Dad, you know that’s not what our names are.”

The man tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Jen and Mew?”

“Oh geez, now you’re just making stuff up!”

“Yeah,” added Jeff. “After all, our names are clearly Leff and Jiu.”

Liu mimed gagging, saying “Euch, I know that a bunch of girls in your class were mashing your name up with theirs and I want no part in it. That’s gross.”

Jeff snorted. “You’re just jealous.” He turned towards Mr. Woods, nodding in the direction of the kitchen. “We’re gonna fix us something to eat, wanna join?”

He shook his head, grey-streaked hair flopping slightly. “Would if I could Jeff, but I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. You two don’t burn the house down, alright?”

“We’ll do our best! Good luck with your work.” Mr. Woods gave Liu an appreciative, tired smile, and rolled back into his office. The off-white door creaked loudly as it shut behind him, leaving the two boys in the hallway.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Man, Dad’s crazy. It’s our last day of school for Chrissake! I mean, of course Mom’s not here, but still...” He sighed, and Liu could see the concealed disappointment on his face.

“Hey, it’s fine,” said Liu cheerily, gently leading his brother away from the office door and hopefully further out of earshot of their father. He winked conspiratorially at Jeff. “Listen, if he doesn’t have dinner with us then he can’t say that we have too much ice cream, now can he?”

“Of course it’s fine! Nothin’s making it otherwise,” Jeff scoffed, but Liu observed with some comfort that Jeff half-walked, half-skipped into the kitchen.

#creepypasta #creepypasta hc #jeff the killer #jeffrey woods #liu woods #homicidal liu #rewrite #the fog in the morning #backstory #creepypasta au

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 3 years

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Magnolia

I don’t know much about Magnolia or Paul Thomas Anderson, but I do know that it takes someone paying me to get me to watch a 3-hr+ drama that doesn’t star Kate Winslet, Leonardo DiCaprio, and a really big boat. This is one of my mom’s favorite movies which is why she requested it for me to review. It’s packed with a balls-to-the-wall star-studded cast (Tom Cruise! Julianne Moore! Phillip Seymour Hoffman! John C. Reilly! William H. Macy! Felicity Huffman!) and I’m genuinely excited to see how they all fit together. Cause they have to all fit together in some coherent way, right? Well...

Do you remember in Sorry to Bother You when the Equisapiens came out and things just took like...a real turn? That’s kind of what this was like. Whereas StBY pushed a thought to its most extreme, but logical, conclusion, what Paul Thomas Anderson has done here feels like a magician doing a lot of impressive illusions - sawing a lady in half, making a motorcycle disappear, pulling smaller things out of bigger things - and then for his final trick, walking onstage amidst a grand plume of smoke, dropping his pants, taking a gigantic shit, and then saying, “You’ve been a great audience, thanks a lot and goodnight!” It’s not like you can say the experience was BAD. Everything up to the finale was a really great time! But when you’re left on a note that is that bafflingly odd, it kinda colors the way you’ll remember the whole thing.

Magnolia is the story of one long day in the life of 12 people living in Los Angeles who are all connected via an extensive web from acquaintances to married couples to parents and children to paid caregivers and beyond. It’s a day that has the same kind of ups and downs as any other day until it, well, turns into something else entirely. I’m not sure how else to explain it, but if you want to know more, spoilers will be spoiled below.

Some thoughts:

Patton Oswalt cameo! I am a massive fan and thought I knew his whole filmography and OMG how did I not know that he was in this!!

Ok, in spite of my skepticism this entire opening sequence about coincidence had me hooked IMMEDIATELY. Like, this is some damn good storytelling, if this were a novel, I would not be able to put it down - that pull, that’s what it feels like.

Am I the only person whose encyclopedic memory of character actors/roles gets distracted when they see someone from something that is wildly disparate compared to the role you’re currently watching? For example, I had to pause the movie and confirm via IMDB that I did just see Professor Sprout from HP scream “Shut the fuck up!” at her husband while brandishing a shotgun.

Would people really recognize a grown ass man from being a successful child game show contestant? I’ll tell you the answer, no they wouldn’t, because no one realizes that Peter Billingsley (aka Ralphie from A Christmas Story) is the head of the elf production line in Elf.

I knew this was a stacked cast, but holy SHIT this is a stacked cast. If I had $1 for every fantastic character actor I recognize in this, I would have at least $37, and these are people in the film who have maybe 2-3 lines each. It’s a deep bench is what I’m saying.

This makes me miss Phillip Seymour Hoffman so, so very much.

Watching PSH care for and be so compassionate and gentle with his hospice patient, Earl (Jason Robards),makes my heart ache terribly. All of the people who have been unable to perform this kindness, this type of compassionate care for their closest loved ones as they lie dying in isolation of Covid...it’s overwhelming.

OMG I’m counting 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 Very Good Dogs in the old man’s house!

I know Scientology is evil and he’s undeniably a complicated and morally grey person. I know all that. But goddamn I just love watching Tom Cruise COMMIT. Particularly when he commits to just absolute fucking sleazebag slimeballs. And boy oh boy is Frank Mackey an absolute fucking sleazebag slimeball.

Related - I know Frank looks like Tom Cruise, so he could get people to sleep with him no matter what, but I honestly feel like as a human being, this flesh suit is WAY more attractive balding and fat in Tropic Thunder than he is in this shiny brown shirt/leather vest/long hair combo.

I’m getting an uncomfortable vibe about these black characters being written by an artsy white dude, because I don’t know any young black kids who want to hang around with cops and offer up information about who committed a murder in their building. In fact, the way all of the black characters are treated in this film - as liars, criminals, the disingenuous “main stream media,” and thieves - feels rooted in some racist ass bullshit. We see a lot of nuance in our white characters, but even in a film that has, shockingly, more than one key black role, we don’t get that spectrum or nuance.

There is nothing I would love more than to learn that Frank Mackey is 1) gay 2) impotent or 3) both. He’s so disgustingly over-the-top misogynistic, it honestly feels like it should all be a complete act.

I confess I am on the edge of my seat trying to figure out how all these narrative threads tie together. It’s compelling as hell, even though half the time I don’t know why these people are having these long, meandering conversations. The pacing feels so deliberate, like a puzzle coming together. There’s real craftsmanship in how every scene is plotted to feel connected rather than manic or disjointed.

This pharmacist is being unprofessional as hell. Judgy McJudgerson, mind your fucking business, Julianne Moore’s father is dying! [ETA: ope, that’s embarrassing, Earl is actually her husband.]

NO THE DOG IS EATING THE PILLS OH NO VERY CONCERNED ABOUT THE DOG.

I think I knew this, but this soundtrack is fantastic. All Aimee Mann and Supertramp, and Jon Brion’s score is this thrumming, anxious thing full of strings that underscore all these nervous conversations, and then it shifts into these low, mournful horns when things start to take a turn and everyone is reaching their lowest points.

I love this interviewer (April Grace) who is taking Frank (Tom Cruise) to task. I think it’s particularly noteworthy that she is a black woman, because the kind of misogyny Frank peddles is rooted in white supremacy.

Stanley (Jeremy Blackman) is breaking my goddamn heart here. I think he and Phil (PSH) are my favorite characters.

Jim (John C Reilly) is the perfect example of how even a cop with the best intentions, with absolute kindness and love is in heart, is abusing his power and sexually harassing a woman he encountered in the line of duty, who is eager to appease him because she doesn’t want to be charged with a crime. This movie reads a LOT differently than it did in 1999.

I normally really love Julianne Moore, but she is a screeching mess in this. I can’t stop staring at her mouth and all the contortions it makes as she delivers every line in hysterics. She’s one of the few weak spots for me here.

Listening to Frank go on his whole diatribe about what society does to little boys to break them and victimize them HAS to be the source of where Keith Raniere got at least half of his NXIVM bullshit. Like, some of these points are word-for-word.

Also if Frank makes as much money as he seems to, there’s no way he would drive a shitty Saturn sedan.

It feels like the common thread of this movie is everyone is terrible and cheats on their spouses, and you should come clean when you get cancer so you can die peacefully. Weird moral, but ok.

If Jim is a cop, how does he not see that this woman he’s interested in (Melora Walters) is coked out of her mind?

Y’know for being a quiz kid, Donnie (William H. Macy) sure is kinda stupid.

I confess I’m not taking many notes throughout this because I’m just kind of sitting breathlessly still watching all these conversations unfold because I am on the edge of my fucking seat to find out how all this is gonna come together.

Secret MVP of this movie is the mom from A Christmas Story (Melinda Dillon) who is giving the performance of her goddamn life as Jimmy Gator’s wife.

Did I Cry? On the surface it appears ridiculous, but when Tom Cruise is having his breakdown at his dying father’s bedside, I admit, that really got me. If you’ve ever been faced with that kind of hysterical, I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening, it feels like the whole world is ending kind of shock and hurt and anger, that’s what the crying looks like.

Are those......frogs?? That landed on Jim’s car? It’s raining fucking frogs???? OK for those of you sensitive to frog harm, this movie is going to take a real hard left turn for you, because I swear that came out of NOWHERE.

Um.

What.

Pray tell.

The fuck.

The climax of this movie - is when literal frogs rain from the sky.

And we finally got resolution about the dog, and the dog DID die, and I’m pissed about it. It’s offscreen but still.

I'm sorry - I know I’m fixating. But how is it possible that I knew about all the characters performing a sing-along to Aimee Mann’s (excellent) song “Wise Up” but I did NOT know that the climax of the film involves literally thousands of frogs falling to their death from the sky? How is that something that escapes entry into the cultural zeitgeist? I’m with it, you guys. I have been Very Online for over a decade, and before that, I read a lot of Entertainment Weekly, and like it just seems that this is something that pop culture really should have told me.

I think the funniest moment of this movie might be the credits in which I discovered that not only is Luis Guzman playing a man named Luis, he’s actually playing himself. I don’t know why, but I can’t stop laughing about it. That was a 189-minute setup to one dumb punchline.

I think I loved this movie but I don’t quite know. The frog thing really threw me. What I’m taking away from it is that even when it doesn’t feel like it or seem like it, we are all connected to each other, always, in ways we can’t see or know. As Wife astutely pointed out, it’s reminiscent of the pandemic - we’re all in the same storm, but we each have our own boats and our own experiences within that storm. And it’s kind of nice to remember that right now, that connection still exists even when it feels so far away. Just not if you’re a frog I guess, cause they really got the short end of the stick here.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #magnolia #magnolia review #paul thomas anderson #tom cruise #julianne moore #phillip seymour hoffman #John C Reilly #william h macy #movie reviews #film reviews #patreon review

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