#best hit comedy scenes
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Congratulations to the cast and crew of "The Bear," for a record-breaking 23 Emmy nominations!
THE BEAR — Season 2
#the bear#the bear season two#emmy awards#jeremy allen white#ayo edebiri#lionel boyce#ebon moss bachrach#liza colón zayas#olivia colman#jamie lee curtis#bob odenkirk#jon bernthal#will poulter#christopher storer#congratulations!!#the bear season 2 breaking the record for most emmy nominations for a comedy at once it's what she deserves#the bear fx#the bear season 2 my beloved#peak television i'm not even kidding#just hit after hit!#nine nominations for “Fishes” alone#“Honeydew” and “Forks” still two of the best episodes in the history of american tv#also while making this gif set I lost track of the number of times richie and carmy call each other “cousin” in season 2#when they are in the same scene it is nearly incessant#half of their conversation is just “cousin” with varying degrees of intensity and inflection#i'm going to spontaneously combust!
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Ouhhhhh the “I should have let the English kill you” scene makes me absolutely feral. Like. OUGH. They both really put their whole pussies into it didn’t they???
#like yeah ofmd is a comedy#but the more serious and emotional scenes are soooooo good#and sure it’s no surprise for con to be good at dramatic acting#but taika being like ‘oooh yeah I’m not the best dramatic actor’???#as if watching Ed cry doesn’t make me feel like I’m being repeatedly hit over the head with a frying pan????#*bouncing off the walls*#ollie rambles
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secondhand bookshops rule so hard esp my fav one in town. there are such specific sections for everything. in the scifi shelves theyve organized things by space sci-fi, sea sci-fi, dystopia etc. there's a paranormal romance section in the romance section. they have 3 shelves longer than i am tall dedicated to the star trek novelizations organized by series and 3 under that dedicated to dragonlance books. i went to look at their craft section and they had subsections for eras and styles of embroidery. i can look for motorsport books by series or manufacturer without coming across top gear books or car manuals, which have their own sections. i can find poetry by nz poets in their own bookcase and books by māori authors all over the shop because they've been marked by a specific tag on the binding.
#when i went there last year i found a bunch of little knitting books dedicated to weird and fun tea cosies for $15#and my mother wanted to make some but was bored of the stuff she found online so i was like damn! mine now!#didnt buy anything today cos saving money and was just wasting time till next bus but they have a GIANT $90 encyclopedia of all of#shakespeares histories tragedies and comedies (all his plays!!!)#i remember 2 years back someone donated their grandfathers old racing book collection#and it was massive. 200 books. multiple in series like ''ferraris of 1958. ferraris of 1959''#and so on up until the year he died#but the BEST thing was the bookstore owner showed me#a local published book on the new zealand grand prix#which is a race held here every year that nz drivers compete in#and taped on the inside of the cover was a form#and it was the mans entry form that he submitted to race and the paper showing his result in that years race#(it was in the 70s)#like thats AMAZING#he had a good few on the rally scene in wellington which i wanted to get but got snapped up :(#rally was HUGE back when#the reason our waterfront is so huge (biiig pavement that stretches from the water and rocks to the park/sitting areas#which are all elevated) is because rallies were held on the waterfront!?#so all the spectator stuff had to be raised up so no one would be hit if the car spun out#of course that meant cars would either go off the edge of the waterfront and into the rocks/harbour or slam into concrete walls#because it was the 60s and safety wasnt. a thing they considered.
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i maintain that pete nelson is the sweetest character dean played in any m&l movie
#and it's WEIRD#why is he so nice to jerry's character?#it's so gentle...#not one insult?#not one attempt to hit him?#just supportive best friend#and it's really sweet#and would've been better if this movie didn't read like#JERRY LEWIS IN THREE RING CIRCUS#and uhhhh dean martin's there. he's in the back. he has one comedy scene. his romance arc is contrived. sorry no we didn't try
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𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿
Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? If you're not up for a few second-hand embarrassment sit this one out lol. Summary: Your coworker peer pressured you to look up SergeantBarnes in Pornhub, reason? Because apparently you're missing out. A/N: This would make a good mini series. . .but we'll see. I had a dream. . .that he was a guy next door, just wanted to-of course-add a twist to it asdfghjkl.
It was all Amy’s fault. And Trish’s. And okay, maybe you shared a little bit of the blame for caving to the intense peer pressure at work. But still.
You’d been minding your own business in the break room, scrolling through lunch menus, when Amy had sidled up, leaned in with that conspiratorial look on her face, and whispered, “Have you seen him yet?”
“Seen who?” your eyebrows creased as you asked, confused.
Trish popped up out of nowhere, clutching her latte in her hand. “Girl, SeargentBarnes. The guy is legendary—I mean, a literal internet icon.”
You shrugged, feigning indifference while they exchanged a look that practically screamed, amateur. They started talking all at once, dropping cryptic phrases like “too hot to handle,” “you’re gonna die,” and, “you’ll never look at men the same way again.”
So there you were that night, alone with your laptop, curled up in bed and biting your lip as you debated whether to type it in. It’s just curiosity, you reasoned. Research purposes.
Your eyes widened as the screen filled with… well, humanity, in all its naked, unfiltered glory. Your face heated up so fast you could’ve sworn it was the same shade as your throw pillow. Videos lined up like some weird buffet, titles more scandalous than anything you’d ever whispered in confession, and… was that a whole category devoted to delivery men? You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop from yelping, mortified at the intensity of it all.
“I need to go to church after this,” you muttered, squinting like that would somehow censor the thorough dedication people were showing in their, uh, procreation endeavors.
“SergeantBarnes,” you muttered to yourself as you typed, fingers hovering uncertainly over the Enter key. Then, with a sigh, you hit search, and… oh.
You nearly choked on oxygen. Because there he was, in HD glory, right on Pornhub, with that cocky grin and those blue eyes that looked like they’d been crafted in a lab. And he wasn’t just standing there looking smug—oh, no, he was on a mission, shirtless, flexing, and smirking at the camera like he was the world’s best-kept secret. The scene panned to him sitting on the edge of a bed, peeling off his belt with one hand, a glint in his eyes that seemed to say, this is what you came for.
“Oh my god,” you muttered, equal parts horrified and morbidly fascinated, as he proceeded to… well, get very familiar with his costar. SergeantBarnes was apparently an expert at multitasking, using every muscle, every inch of his well-equipped arsenal. And the way he was delivering lines? He was clearly treating the camera like it was his soulmate.
By minute two, your jaw had dropped. By minute five, you’d set the laptop on your nightstand to “watch responsibly.” By minute ten, you were convinced Amy and Trish had permanently ruined your life.
And the costar—she was practically putting on an Oscar-worthy performance, her reactions so intense you half expected her to start speaking in tongues. Every time SergeantBarnes’s… rod of justice plunges deep inside, she gasps like she was witnessing a miracle. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Come on, is that really necessary?
As you watched, he gave a low, rumbling sound—half growl, half sigh—that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. His gaze burned through the screen with a confidence that was practically magnetic, and suddenly, you understood exactly why the costar was gasping. A new, unbidden heat pooled between your legs, making you shift uncomfortably, instinctively pressing your thighs together as if that could somehow stop the flush creeping up your face. Oh no, now I wish I were her, you thought, immediately cringing at yourself.
With a mix of half-laughter and half-horror, you reached over and slammed the laptop shut so fast it was like you were trying to save yourself from spontaneous combustion.
“Holy—oh, wow,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your face. “Okay. That was a one-time thing.”
Or so you thought.
Except now, every time you even glanced at your laptop, SergeantBarnes was right there in your mind, reminding you exactly why he was internet-famous. It was becoming a bit of a problem.
× × × ×
The next morning, you stumbled out of your apartment, looking like something that had been left out in the rain and dragged through a blender, mentally cursing last night’s “research” session. The world had no right to be this bright, and your regret levels were at an all-time high as you lugged the world’s heaviest box down the hallway.
You were so absorbed in avoiding a complete breakdown that you barely registered the deep, too-familiar voice beside you.
“Need help with that?”
“Thanks, but I got it,” you muttered automatically, barely sparing him a glance.
Except...then you did.
You looked up, squinting in confusion. Because, standing in front of you, in the perfectly mundane hallway of your perfectly mundane building, was him.
You froze, your brain spinning like a buffering screen. Okay, this guy’s insanely handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, stubbled jaw, eyes so blue they should have a health warning on them. You stared, mentally cataloging each feature, when—wait a minute... WAIT. A. MINUTE.
Your eyes narrowed, suspicion prickling as your brain finally fired up. Is that…? No, it can’t be.
But it was. Oh, it absolutely was.
SergeantBarnes, the very star of last night’s “educational” viewing, right here in the flesh. And suddenly, like a tractor beam had locked onto you, your gaze dropped right to his crotch, where you’d witnessed things you could never un-see.
This, of course, did not go unnoticed. His brows shot up as he followed your very obvious, very treacherous line of sight, glancing down at his jeans before looking back up at you with an infuriatingly smug grin.
“Uh… nice shoes?” you blurted out, your face feeling like it was on fire. You vaguely gestured to his boots, wishing you could vanish right into the walls.
“Thanks,” he replied smoothly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’re pretty sturdy. But, you know…” He paused, his voice dropping just a hair. “I don’t think they’re what you were looking at.”
Your heart sank as you forced yourself to look up, his amused blue eyes practically laughing at you. Abort. Abort mission. Oh God, we are way past mission failure.
“Uh—no, I just… um…” You floundered, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that might save you from the hole you’d dug. But no words came. Not even the faintest semblance of a coherent thought. Just one long, silent scream echoing in your brain.
“Bucky,” he offered helpfully, sticking out his hand like he wasn’t SergeantBarnes from Pornhub, but just some guy offering to help with a box. “New neighbor, by the way.”
You stared at his hand like it was a booby trap, your brain short-circuiting as it reminded you exactly where those fingers had been. That hand had gripped… things. It had been places you’d only dreamed of, doing things you’d probably need a core workout just to survive. You could practically see the ��viewer discretion advised” warning flashing in your head as you hesitated, still staring at his hand as if it might explode.
But, against your better judgment—and every shred of dignity—you slowly reached out and shook it, feeling your own fingers betray you by sweating as they made contact with his very… experienced ones.
“Uh… hi… I’m… yep.” you blurted, mentally cringing.
“‘Yep’? That’s a good name,” he said, smirking as he let go. “You sure you don’t need help? You seem… a little flustered.”
Flustered? Understatement of the century. If your dignity had been a cup, it was empty, bone-dry, and cracked. You forced yourself to focus, eyes straight forward, pointedly ignoring the very tempting crotch-level view.
“I’m fine! Totally fine!” you squeaked, cringing at your own voice. Oh God, calm down!
But he just chuckled, that same dangerously cocky smile from last night plastered all over his face. “Alright, Yep. Guess I’ll see you around.”
As he turned to leave, you stood there in the hallway, clutching the box like it was a life raft, heart racing a mile a minute. You’d just had a very public staring incident with SergeantBarnes, your new neighbor, and all you’d managed to say was nice shoes.
I’m gonna need new coworkers, you thought, practically burying your face in the box as you scurried to your apartment.
The door slammed shut with a bang that could probably be heard across state lines. You dropped the box unceremoniously, ignoring the loud thunk as it hit the floor, and whipped your phone out, fingers flying across the screen like you were composing a manifesto.
Guys, you’re NEVER gonna guess who my neighbor is—
You paused, staring at the screen as the rest of the text formed in your mind: THE SergeantBarnes. LIVE. IN. THE. FLESH.
But then another thought stopped you dead in your tracks. Oh no.
You could already picture it: Amy and Trish showing up like rabid fangirls in their “I Heart SergeantBarnes” merch, carrying suspiciously flimsy plates of brownies. Trish would have binoculars. Amy would be taking notes, probably trying to “accidentally” leave her phone number under his door. You shuddered, imagining them cornering him by the mailboxes, all of them acting like they were definitely not the type of women who had his entire catalog bookmarked on their phones.
A horrible realization hit you. If I tell them, this man’s gonna be living a nightmare right next door to me. Not just a nightmare, a Trish-and-Amy-sponsored fan club nightmare, where they might even break into song—probably chanting, “SergeantBarnes! SergeantBarnes!” while he tries to get his groceries.
You looked back at your unsent message and deleted it in one go, feeling weirdly proud of yourself. Yeah, no. I’m not letting them anywhere near him.
Totally altruistic, of course. It had nothing to do with keeping the eye candy to yourself.
You took a deep breath, looking around your empty apartment like you were expecting the FBI to burst through the door at any second. Sure, you’d just been in the hallway with the actual SergeantBarnes, but maybe… maybe you were imagining things. It had been a long day. Moving was stressful. Stranger things had happened, right?
With a surge of resolve (and denial), you dashed to your bedroom, practically sliding across the floor as you went. Your laptop was waiting innocently on the nightstand, and with a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure you were still alone, you opened it up, clicked incognito mode like you were hiding state secrets, and went straight to the website you’d sworn off only hours ago.
“Alright… just to confirm,” you muttered to yourself, feeling your cheeks burn as you typed SergeantBarnes into the search bar, mentally bracing yourself for the flood of results.
And there he was. The whole page filled with him, in various… positions. You swallowed, scrolling until one video caught your eye: “Sergeant Disciplines the Bratty Recruit.”
You snorted, almost slamming the laptop shut. “Oh, for heaven’s sake…”
But curiosity was a dangerous beast, and before you could talk yourself out of it, your finger had already clicked play.
The video started, with SergeantBarnes in all his glory, wearing what looked like the world’s tightest military uniform. His face was as smug as ever, that telltale glint of mischief in his eyes as he muttered something absurd like, “Think you can handle me, recruit?”
“Oh my god,” you whispered, cringing as you half-covered your eyes but peeked through your fingers anyway.
But there was no denying it—the face, the voice, the ridiculous, smoldering look into the camera. There was no escaping it now. It was 100% him. The same guy who was now living approximately ten feet away from your own front door.
As the video continued, your disbelief only grew. This man… this man is next door, could eating cereal right now, you thought, torn between horrified fascination and the urge to laugh. Because there he was, in full “disciplinary action” mode, doing things you could barely process, and here you were, watching it again, just to make sure it was really him.
“Oh, I’m doomed,” you muttered, slapping the laptop shut. You weren’t even sure if you were embarrassed, impressed, or maybe just a little terrified of your own neighbor.
× × × ×
Over the next few days, it was like living in a twisted sitcom. Everywhere you went, he was there, lurking like some kind of sexy, mildly inconvenient specter. It was uncanny. You’d turn a corner, and bam—there he’d be, giving you that polite nod and a smirk that clearly said, I know exactly what you’ve seen.
It started small. You’d step into the elevator, praying for a peaceful ride, and ding! in he’d stroll, flashing that devastating grin. Instantly, you’d stiffen, gluing yourself to the opposite wall, practically trying to meld with the buttons, heart pounding like you were about to pass out. You couldn’t even look him in the eye without flashes of his, uh, “filmography” playing in your mind. Every single time, without fail, you found yourself studying the very clean floor of the elevator as he leaned casually against the wall, the corners of his mouth tugging up.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” he’d ask, all smooth, innocent charm. Meanwhile, you were there like, Oh, totally, perfect day to run into my favorite Pornhub star.
You were in the laundry room, blissfully alone, humming to yourself as you separated your clothes like a responsible adult. Whites here, colors there, delicates—well, you were kind of just tossing them wherever at this point. Then, suddenly, you felt it: a shift in the air, a presence. You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up, a sock suspended mid-toss in your hand. Why do I feel like the music should be getting dramatic right about now?
Slowly, as if sensing his approach, you turned. And there he was—Bucky, striding in with a laundry basket filled with a suspiciously pristine pile of perfectly folded, incredibly manly clothing. It was as if he’d just stepped out of some kind of… laundry commercial. Or worse… one of his own videos.
You blinked, eyes widening as a thousand clichés suddenly flashed through your mind. Oh no, why does this feel like the start of a porn? you thought, biting your lip as you realized the two of you were, in fact, very alone, surrounded by washing machines and suspiciously warm lighting. You mentally kicked yourself. Snap out of it! This is laundry. Regular, boring laundry.
Bucky caught your eye, giving you an amused once-over. “Doing some laundry?” he asked, his voice low and casual, but somehow it felt like the most suggestive question in the world.
You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Uh-huh,” you managed, trying to sound like a normal human being. “Just, uh… laundry.”
Your face felt like it was on fire as you realized half of your load was underwear, strewn everywhere. Panties, bras, socks—they were all there in their mismatched glory, practically screaming, We’re personal items! Pay extra attention! You yanked your gaze away from the pile, mortified, and flung the sock into the washer like you were trying to disarm a bomb.
You slammed the washer lid down, feeling like you’d just revealed way too much. But Bucky only grinned, strolling over with that maddening swagger. He tossed a shirt into the washer beside you, leaning against it with a smirk.
“Nice sorting skills,” he commented, eyes flicking down to the very obvious pile of bras and lace that you’d tried to hide. “Very… thorough.”
“Yep!” you squeaked, feeling like you might explode. You fumbled with the detergent bottle, struggling to open it as your brain went into full-blown panic mode. Why does this feel like one of those videos? Don’t look at him. Just don’t look. Pretend you’re alone. Pretend this is fine.
But of course, he wasn’t making it any easier. He folded his arms, watching you with a raised brow, the picture of calm while you were desperately trying to load underwear without dying of embarrassment.
“You know,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh, “usually people try to separate colors from whites.”
“Oh, I do! I mean, I… it’s a system,” you stammered, feeling like you were caught in a lie by the laundry police. “Sometimes it’s… it’s an artistic choice.”
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with that insufferable amusement. “Artistic laundry, huh? Didn’t take you for the experimental type.”
“Yep,” you said, forcing a laugh as you stuffed in the last sock, your hands moving at lightning speed, desperate to finish and escape.
But as you turned to leave, he held up a stray bra that had somehow escaped your grasp, dangling it between two fingers with a raised eyebrow.
“You forgot this,” he said, voice dripping with that same mischievous humor.
You stared at the bra in horror, feeling your face go molten.
“Uh… thanks,” you mumbled, practically ripping it out of his hand and stuffing it into the washer, slamming the lid down one last time before you spun on your heel and speed-walked out of there.
Behind you, you heard him chuckle softly, his voice echoing in the hallway. “See you around, neighbor.”
Yep, you thought, already halfway down the hall, never doing laundry again.
By day three, it got ridiculous. You’d ducked into the mailroom, hoping he was out doing normal human things—maybe mowing a lawn or whatever. But no, as soon as you opened your mailbox, there he was, standing by his own, sorting through a stack of letters. You froze, briefly considering whether you could just flee and come back later for your electric bill.
And then… the grocery bag incident.
You were in the hallway, arms overloaded with bags because, naturally, you’d ignored the cart right by the entrance and had instead decided to carry it all in one go. You were so close to your door when you heard footsteps behind you.
“Need help?” he asked, that voice making you nearly fumble every bag in your arms.
You turned, scrambling to say, “No, I’m good,” but of course, in your panic, one of your bags tipped, and a lone, horrifying item fell out and hit the floor. You watched, paralyzed, as the little bottle of lube rolled out with an audible clatter, spinning lazily to a stop right in front of him.
You could practically feel the heat exploding from your cheeks. No. Oh no. Not like this.
You looked up, meeting his amused, slightly raised eyebrows as his lips twitched, clearly fighting a smile.
“Uh,” you choked out, unable to form a single coherent sentence. Think fast, make it sound normal, you told yourself, even though every possible explanation was racing out of your head.
He bent down, picking up the bottle with a glint of pure mischief in his eyes, inspecting it like he’d just found evidence of some grand crime.
“Hey, everyone’s got needs,” he said, deadpan, but that twinkle in his eye was anything but innocent. “Don’t worry.” He tossed you a wink, handing the bottle back like it was no big deal.
Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as your brain scrambled to form a sentence. Finally, the words tumbled out like a train wreck, your dignity left somewhere back at the grocery store.
“It’s… it’s for my friend,” you squeaked, clutching the lube bottle with both hands like it was a sacred artifact. He raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too entertained for your liking. “She’s, uh, she’s constipated.”
A moment of silence.
“She needs it to… you know, help with a suppository.” You forced a grin that you were sure looked more like a grimace. “She, uh… can’t get things moving. Really jammed up in there.”
Bucky’s face twisted in barely suppressed laughter, and his shoulders shook as he struggled to keep a straight face.
“Right,” he drawled, nodding with an expression that was one part pity and two parts are you for real? “That’s… thoughtful of you.”
You felt like you were overheating, a human furnace on the verge of combustion.
“She’s desperate!” you blurted, doubling down on your ridiculous story, even though every fiber of your being was screaming to stop talking. “I’m just being a good friend, you know? Supportive. I mean, she’s the one who’s backed up.”
He nodded again, still fighting a smile, the look in his eyes a mix of amusement and something else that made your pulse race.
“Sure,” he said, “nothing like helping a friend in need.” He paused, that wicked smile growing as he added, “In my experience, though, there are plenty of other uses for it.”
Your soul left your body.
He held out his hands in mock innocence, chuckling as your eyes widened to saucers.
“Just saying,” he winked. “Versatile stuff.”
And with that, he turned, strolling down the hall with a casual wave, leaving you frozen and mortified, clutching the bottle to your chest like a lifeline.
“Gotta… go,” you managed, voice barely a whisper, stumbling the last few steps to your door as you fumbled with the keys, practically falling inside.
The second the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, staring at the ceiling and whispering, “I’m never leaving my apartment again.”
Just as you were about to bury your face in your hands and live in the sweet, silent embrace of shame, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out, still reeling from the lube disaster, and saw a text from your friend, Clara.
Clara: Hey!! Did you get the lube?? Need it ASAP, things are… not moving over here, if you catch my drift.
You groaned, staring at the message, letting it sink in that yes, this entire disaster had been real.
You: Yes. Got it. Never speaking of this again.
Clara: Bless you, you lifesaver. My digestive system owes you a standing ovation.
You rolled your eyes, still red-faced. Clara had no idea you’d just had to explain the entire situation to your painfully attractive neighbor—who now likely thought you were a walking sitcom.
× × × ×
It started subtly—just a little teasing, or so you thought. But it quickly spiraled into a game you could only describe as Bucky Barnes: Merciless Teasing—Extended Cut. Every time you crossed paths, he managed to twist the knife just a little deeper, making you sweat, stumble, and practically choke on your own words.
The first time it happened, you were hauling a huge box out of your car, trying to look capable and independent, when he strolled up beside you, leaning against the car with a smirk.
“You act like I’m a celebrity,” he said, eyebrow cocked. “Every time you see me, you look ready to run.”
You fumbled, nearly dropping the box.
“Nope! I’m just…uh, busy!” you squeaked, scrambling to walk away at top speed, box clutched to your chest like a shield. But you caught his laugh as you rushed off, making you want to evaporate on the spot.
The next time, you were in the stairwell, headphones in, desperately trying to avoid any more awkward run-ins. Naturally, the moment you looked up, there he was, lounging at the landing like some kind of paid actor in a commercial. You froze mid-step as he raised a brow.
“Look at that,” he said, giving you the once-over, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time you see me. Is it something I did?”
You stammered, turning pink.
“No! Just, uh… headphones! Music! Loud music!” you blurted, before speed-walking up the stairs, praying he didn’t hear the Spice Girls song you’d been blasting. Behind you, his chuckle echoed up the stairwell like the final taunt of a villain.
But the absolute worst came at the coffee shop.
You were in line, looking at your phone, hoping you could just breeze in and out. The moment you placed your order and turned to leave, there he was, standing right behind you, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Hey, neighbor,” he drawled, eyeing your coffee cup like it was some incriminating evidence. “Funny running into you here. Or… do you keep running into me?”
Your face flushed, and you tried to think of something clever, but it was like all your brain cells had gone on vacation.
“Nope! Definitely just getting coffee! I don’t even… live near here!” you babbled, immediately regretting everything.
“Oh, interesting,” he replied, his grin widening. “Because I could swear you live right next door. But hey, if you want to keep pretending you don’t know me, I’ll go along with it.” He handed you your coffee with a wink. “See you around… or not.”
But things took a turn for the mortifying when, one evening, you were pacing the hallway on the phone with Clara, trying to vent without actually collapsing in a pile of awkwardness.
“It’s him, Clara!” you hissed, oblivious to the fact that you were pacing right outside Bucky’s door. “I’m living next door to SergeantBarnes! Can you believe this? I’ve seen everything he has to offer! I’ve practically studied him!”
Clara was howling with laughter, but you were too wrapped up in your frustration to care.
“And he knows, Clara! He keeps showing up everywhere, saying stuff like, ‘You seem nervous’ and ‘You keep looking at me like you know something I don’t.’ I swear, he’s doing it on purpose!” You paused, sighing dramatically. “The man is basically torturing me!”
“Yeah?” Clara snorted. “And what are you gonna do about it?”
“Nothing! I’m gonna hide in my apartment forever! I mean, the guy is—” You froze mid-sentence, sensing a presence that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Please, for the love of all that is holy, no.
You slowly turned, and there he was. Bucky. Leaning against his door, arms crossed, looking like he’d just won the freaking lottery.
“Oh… my god…” you whispered, feeling your soul leave your body. He was watching you with an expression of pure, unfiltered amusement, one eyebrow quirked, lips pulled into that infuriating, knowing smirk.
“Well,” he said, voice laced with mischief. “That makes one of us.” His eyes glinted with barely-contained laughter. “And here I thought you were just a fan of my boots.”
You could practically feel your brain cells going up in smoke.
“I… uh… well… I…” you stammered, cheeks burning. “Boots… are great,” you managed, wanting to sink into the earth.
“Yeah? Because I seem to remember you looking… elsewhere last time,” he teased, stepping a little closer, enjoying every second of your embarrassment.
“Oh, no! Just… boots!” you squeaked, backing up, practically tripping over yourself. “I really should go… water my… uh… plants!”
He chuckled, savoring every second of your panic. “Good luck with that,” he said, throwing in one last wink as he slipped back into his apartment, leaving you in the hallway, feeling like you’d just gone through a slow-motion car crash.
Back in your apartment, you slid down the door, hands over your face as Clara’s laughter erupted over the phone.
“Boots?” she howled. “THAT’S what you went with? Boots?”
You groaned, banging your head back against the door. “Shut up, Clara.”
× × × ×
Determined to reclaim a shred of your dignity, you strode into the local coffee shop, praying for a quiet morning with zero embarrassing encounters. But, as if on cue, the universe had other plans.
There, right at the counter, was Bucky. He spotted you instantly, his face lighting up with that all-too-familiar grin that had haunted your dreams. There was no escape.
He waved you over, and before you could even think of pretending you hadn’t seen him, he was calling out, “Morning, neighbor! What’s your coffee order again?” His voice was loud enough that half the shop turned to look.
“Oh, um… it’s…” you stammered, but he’d already waved to the barista.
“Got it covered,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ve got a feeling you like it with extra cream.”
You choked on your own saliva, feeling your face turn crimson as he handed you the cup with a wink.
“Unless I’m wrong?” he added with a smirk, feigning innocence.
“N-Nope, that’s right!” you managed, grabbing the cup like it was a shield. “Extra cream… perfect.”
He chuckled, gesturing to an empty booth in the corner. “Great. Then you won’t mind sitting down with me for breakfast.”
“Oh no, really, I should—”
He raised an eyebrow. “What, got somewhere better to be?”
You froze, helplessly aware that the entire coffee shop was listening in. You managed a nervous laugh, mumbling, “Well… no, I guess not…”
Before you knew it, you were sitting across from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes anywhere but his face, your cheeks burning as he sipped his coffee and watched you with a smug smile.
“So,” he said, leaning forward, “what’s a girl like you doing watching a guy like me online, anyway?”
Your jaw dropped, coffee cup halfway to your mouth. “I—I wasn’t watching—It was research!” you spluttered, already kicking yourself for falling right into his trap.
He chuckled, clearly reveling in your embarrassment.
“Oh, sure, ‘research,’” he said, nodding like he totally believed you. “I get it. You know, it’s important to be informed.”
You practically shrank into your seat, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard. “Could you not say that so loudly?”
He smirked, taking a long, deliberate sip of his coffee.
“Relax, I’m just curious,” he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell his aftershave. “Gotta say, it’s a little flattering to have a fan right next door.”
Your brain completely short-circuited. “Fan? I—no! I mean, not like that… I… I barely even…” You could feel the lie crumbling in your throat as his smirk deepened.
“Uh-huh. Then why did you look like you were about to sprint every time you saw me?” He tilted his head, studying you, eyes twinkling. “And I swear you turned pink the second you walked in here.”
Your hands shot up, covering your cheeks. “I did not! You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” he said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Because it’s like clockwork. Every time I’m around, you look like you’ve been caught red-handed. I don’t mind, you know,” he added, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
You let out a strangled laugh, ready to crawl under the table.
“That’s… obvious,” you muttered, feeling as though you might combust at any second.
“Okay, so since we’re having breakfast together, how about you tell me: any favorite scenes?” He laughed, looking entirely too amused as he stirred his coffee.
You practically choked on your coffee, face flaming as you tried to hide behind your cup.
“I—I can’t believe you just asked that!” you squeaked, horrified and unable to meet his gaze.
“Oh, come on,” he grinned, clearly enjoying every second. “It’s just small talk. I mean, who better to ask than a neighbor?”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we please pretend this conversation never happened?”
“Nope. Can’t do that,” he replied, laughing. “I think it’s a little late for that.”
Just as you were starting to pray for an earthquake to swallow you whole, you glanced up at him, cheeks still flaming.
“Did you… did you know I recognized you this whole time?”
He leaned back, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
“Of course I did,” he said, laughing. “Figured it out the second I saw that look on your face. I just wanted to see if you’d ever bring it up.”
“Oh my god,” you muttered, feeling mortification seep into your very bones. “And you kept messing with me?”
“Of course,” he said, raising an eyebrow with a wicked grin. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take for you to crack. Guess now the ice is broken, huh?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re the worst.”
He winked, finishing his coffee. “Yeah, but I make breakfast interesting, don’t I?”
You laughed, feeling the last traces of embarrassment fade away—well, at least enough to breathe normally again. But just as you started to feel almost… comfortable, Bucky tilted his head, giving you a curious look.
“So, neighbor,” he said, smirking, “I’ve gotta ask… what’s your name?”
You blinked, realizing with a jolt that you’d never actually told him. In all your attempts to dodge, deflect, and survive the relentless teasing, you hadn’t even bothered to introduce yourself.
“Oh… right,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I, uh, guess I never actually said.”
“Nope,” he replied, leaning in with a grin. “I just assumed you wanted to keep a little mystery between us.”
You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Trust me, I’m not that mysterious.”
“Really?” he replied, eyebrows raised. “Because all this time I’ve been calling you ‘Yep.’”
Your face went red as you remembered the first time you’d stammered a barely coherent “yep” instead of an introduction. “Oh my god. You haven’t been calling me that in your head this whole time, have you?”
He shrugged, smirking. “It’s kind of cute. Suits you, actually.”
You groaned, but laughed despite yourself, finally holding out your hand across the table. “Alright. I’m Y/N. Officially.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, taking your hand, his grip warm and firm. His smirk softened into something a little more genuine. “Good to meet you, Y/N. Officially.”
His hand lingered in yours for a beat longer than necessary, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no innuendos—just the two of you, sitting across the table, smiling like two normal people who’d just met under… semi-normal circumstances.
Then, just as you were starting to think maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this weirdly charming neighbor situation, he leaned back, that mischievous glint creeping back into his eyes.
“Now that we’re on a first-name basis,” he said, winking, “you can tell me all about your favorite scenes. You know, for professional feedback.”
You burst out laughing, face in your hands as he watched you with a triumphant grin. Yep, you thought, already regretting nothing and everything.
#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagines#winter soldier imagines#winter solider x reader#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x y/n#the winter soldier x reader#the winter soldier#winter soldier x female reader#winter soldier fanfiction#winter soldier fic#winter soldier fanfic#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan characters#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan fanfiction#the winter solider x reader#the winter soldier x you#james barnes x you#james barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james barnes x y/n#james barnes
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Hey! I would love to give you an idea of your next fic!
How about G!p!Director!Agatha asks Actress!R if they can make a sex tape, so she won't be lonely that much when R is away for work(They're married). Turns out she feels even more lonely and hornier when R is away. She's going crazy when she sees her cum leaking out of R in the video. She's been sending R videos of her fucking fleshlight and express how much she needs R. And when R gets back home, they fuck like a horny teen. (Breeding would be perfect for this🤩🤩)
Thank you so much!! I love all your fics!!!🩷
Ohhh 🫠🥵 writing this one killed me in the best possible way
Baby, you're a star
Word count: 8.3k
Warnings: mommy kink, filming, GP Agatha, sex toys, breeding kink, masturbation, blowjobs, sex, oral sex, fingering, minor spanking, so much filth, porn with very little plot, I have never written this much smut in a single post
Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7 @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly
You’re running, running from something, and it’s closing in on you. Looking back over your shoulder, a terrified look on your face, you trip and end up sprawling onto the ground.
It’s about to get you. Your eyes widen in fear, a loud sound coming from the distance —
“And…cut! That’s a wrap!” With the shout from your director, your character of Samantha Wren, a girl haunted by a dark creature from her past that finally catches up to her, melts away and you push yourself off the set floor, brushing your hands on your torn pants.
The scene you just shot is the cliffhanger ending to the film, The Figure in the Walls, where Samantha is sprinting through the woods after realizing what the monster is, trying to get away. It’s unclear if she does, which leaves some room for a sequel.
The movie’s director, Agatha Harkness, steps out from behind the cameras and slow-claps, smirking at you. You make a beeline for her and she wraps an arm around your shoulders and steers you away from the set. A PA jogs over and hands you a cup of coffee and a bagel. You’ve been filming for the past five hours, doing scenes from earlier that weren’t as good and finishing up the movie sequence, and you’re starving.
“You did so good, honey,” Agatha murmurs into your ear and presses a quick kiss to your temple.
It’s not a secret on set that the two of you are married, you both just prefer to keep it professional for the most part, at least when other people can see you.
You first met Agatha at the Golden Globes about two and a half years ago. You had never met, but were both nominated for separate projects: you for Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy, and her for Best Director. A mutual friend had introduced you to her during a commercial break, and you hit it off instantly.
There was almost something magnetic between you, and it just kept pulling you to her all night long. You won for your category, and so did she, and the picture of you two with your Globes is framed above the fireplace mantle in your mansion.
You’re beaming at the camera while Agatha is staring down your dress, trying to look inconspicuous. When you tease her about it, she says she was just looking at the trophy.
It’s unclear if she means the Globe, or you.
She had invited you to go to an afterparty with her and you had immediately agreed. It was a quiet, intimate sort of thing with an open bar, and she had brazenly flirted while the warmth from the alcohol settled pleasantly in your stomach.
After a few hours and after you had been practically sitting in her lap for quite some time, she said that she should get going, but asked for your number.
You had clasped her cheeks and pulled her into a hot kiss right there and promptly dragged her out the door into your car and back to your apartment.
A year and a half later, she asked you to marry her as you were walking along the Santa Monica Pier. The sun was setting, purples and pinks reflecting off the ocean waves, and you had never felt so happy in your entire life. You bought a mansion in Beverly Hills together, and you’ve lived there ever since.
When Agatha first signed onto direct The Figure in the Walls, your name had been already thrown around as for who would play the lead. You still don’t know if she pulled some strings, and there was obviously gossip that you had only gotten the role because your wife was directing, but Agatha assured you that once everyone saw your performance, there would be no doubt that you had earned every part of it.
“Thank you,” you whisper to your wife. You can’t believe the movie is finally done, but your turn-around is quick. Tomorrow, you fly out to meet with an agent in New York about a new film franchise in the works. If you land the lead role, it would be absolutely huge for your career.
You will be gone for a week, though, and you and Agatha have been looking forward to some time for just yourselves. You’re eager to get home and at least have tonight, but with the wrap party and the closing speeches, it’s going to be awhile before you’re able to.
Some of the other cast members come over and mingle while you sip on a soda, but you can feel Agatha’s eyes on you the whole time. At one point, you give in and glance over to where she’s sitting — all alone in her director’s chair for some reason, but she’s facing you.
She uncrosses her legs and slouches back, casually putting a hand on her right upper thigh. Agatha ever so slightly spreads the fabric of her dark gray pants and you can see — she’s half-hard. Just from watching you, just from the thought of finally getting some quality time. You’ve made it work with the busy schedule, always finding a half hour for a quick fuck every now and then, but it’s been too long since you’ve been able to take your time. There’s the unspoken promise that neither of you will be sleeping much tonight.
Swallowing roughly and trying to fight back the heat creeping into your cheeks, you turn back to your co-stars and try to look like you’re listening.
And then finally everyone starts to leave. With Agatha being the director, she waits until every single member of the cast and crew has gone while you sit and impatiently tap your foot.
“You ready?” Agatha asks and you jump out of your seat, eagerly nodding, and she laughs. “Looking forward to something?”
“I can’t wait for you to fuck me, mommy,” you answer matter-of-factly and it catches her off-guard for the slightest second.
It’s not often you’re this bold and straight-forward without her prompting. And she fucking loves it.
The car is already waiting outside — you called it while you were waiting for everyone to leave — and the air between the two of you crackles with electricity. The tension is thick, but neither of you move to disturb it, instead just choosing to let it build until you’re in the sanctity of your home.
But your breathing quickens and you can feel your underwear getting gradually wetter, the anticipation steadily rising. When you look over at your wife, you can see her fully-hardened cock straining against the fabric of her tailored pants and her long fingers are digging into her thighs, making her veins pop.
It’s about twenty minutes later of lingering looks between darkened eyes when the car pulls into the driveway of your house.
Agatha barely thanks the driver before you’re both scrambling out of the car and up to your front door.
The moment it’s closed, you’re shoved against the pillar next to it, Agatha’s mouth on yours in a bruising kiss.
“Fuck,” you moan, her tongue hotly licking against yours. She grunts in agreement before grabbing your wrists and holding them over your head, thrusting her right leg between yours. You can feel her cock, can feel the heat radiating off it, and you throb against it and swiftly grind down.
She groans into your mouth and angles her leg up higher and you can feel her dick pulse, which makes the ache inside you grow unbearable. Your kiss has become sloppy, a flurry of teeth and lips and tongue, and she pulls back to trail her mouth down your neck. You hiss when she sucks a bite and it makes your hips jerk involuntarily.
“Agatha — mommy, please,” you whimper, your cunt absolutely dripping. All of your thoughts are being consumed by her right now, and you just need more. You need her fingers, her mouth, her cock inside you, you need her.
Agatha chuckles breathlessly, planting an open-mouth kiss on your lips. “What do you need, honey?”
It’s almost frustrating that she’s making you say it, like it isn’t the most obvious thing in the world how desperate you are for her. “Can we — upstairs?” Your head is spinning and it feels like you’re drunk with need.
If it were any other time, she would make you repeat it and ask clearly. But she knows, she always knows, and there’s no time to waste.
She lets go of one of your wrists but pulls you by the other to the staircase and then stops on the third stair to kiss you again, like she can’t possibly wait. She sucks on your tongue and you gasp.
“Fuck, mommy’s going to miss you tomorrow,” she mutters and in the haze in your head, you feel a slight pang of sadness. Agatha would’ve come with you, but she has a meeting here that she can’t miss either. It’s tough to be apart, even for just a week.
But then the sentimental moment is gone and her teeth sink into your bottom lip, her hand coming up to rest around your throat. She barely even squeezes but it does wonders — you clench around nothing, eyes glazing over, and you let out a strangled gasp.
Agatha smirks and tugs you the rest of the way to your bedroom. Shoes are kicked off and she quickly helps you take off the shirt and pants you changed into after filming and then you rip open the silk button-down shirt she’s wearing, sending buttons flying everywhere. She pushes down her pants and underwear and a ragged gasp tears itself out of your mouth when you see her cock, hard and red and leaking.
You let out a small moan and move closer to touch it, but she stops you.
“Honey,” she says, a bit timidly, and concern washes over you like a bucket of cold water.
“What’s wrong, is everything okay?” you ask. She looks around, biting her lip like she’s not sure how to phrase it. “Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me. Is it something bad?”
Agatha shakes her head. “No, it’s just something I was thinking of. Something I wanted to see if you’d want to try, just because you’re going to be away for a bit.” A flash of heat bursts through you — usually you’re the one who brings up wanting to try new things in the bedroom, but now that it’s Agatha, fuck, you can’t wait.
“Yeah?” you breathe.
“I was wondering if you’d let me film you — us. While we have sex,” she says and your cunt throbs. You’d never thought of it, but you can see it in your mind now. You can imagine how hot it would be to watch yourself take her cock. “So when you’re gone and I get lonely, I can watch it back and remember what a good girl you are for me.”
The praise settles right into your stomach and now you can’t stop thinking about Agatha stroking her cock while watching the two of you have sex.
“You want to, what, direct me in a porno?” you ask, partly as a joke, but there’s no missing the involuntary sound that slips out of her lips, no missing the darkening of her already hungry eyes. “Fuck. Okay.”
She looks a little surprised at your easy agreement, but presses a chaste kiss to your lips, and then another one, and then leaves the room. You sit down on your bed, the excitement almost overwhelming, and try to slow your racing heart.
It’s only a minute before Agatha comes back, holding the iPad that she uses for work sometimes, and a stand for it. Has she been preparing for this? The thought sears through your veins and you feel yourself getting even more wetter.
Her cock seems to get harder if possible as she sets it up close to the bed and the moment she nods and steps back, you feel a new-found sense of confidence wash over you.
You’ve always come alive in front of the cameras, you thrive under being watched, and it feels no different now, even if you’re not becoming a character.
It’s exhilarating. And you’re going to do your best to put on a show.
“Move to the center of the bed,” Agatha orders, still watching through the screen. You swallow roughly and obey — you’ve always found it incredibly sexy watching her command a scene with just her words, and now that she’s doing it in this context?
Fuck.
You lean back against the pillows and look at her, awaiting her next instruction. Agatha nods and her eyes rake over you appreciatively. “Spread your legs and touch yourself over your underwear.”
Moaning softly, you widen your legs and plant your feet flat on the bed so your knees are bent. And then you cup your pussy and your lips part involuntarily when you feel how wet you are. The fabric is absolutely drenched and you can see from the look on Agatha’s face that she can tell too.
You slowly start to trace the outline of your pussy lips through your panties, up and down over your slit, and then when you circle over your clit finally, your back arches off the bed and you sigh heavily. The pleasure is so much more acute now — is it because of the camera? Because you know that Agatha is going to fuck herself later to this?
“There you go, honey,” your wife says approvingly. There’s a wild look in her eyes and her hands are twitching like she’s dying to touch her cock. The tip is even more red now, and you can see beads of liquid collecting and dripping onto the floor. Your hips jolt when you press down harder on your clit. “Take your underwear off and tease your entrance — but don’t go inside just yet.”
You have to peel your panties off your sopping wet pussy and you teasingly toss them over to her. She catches them and lets out a surprised groan when she actually feels them.
And then she lifts them to her nose and breathes in the scent of your wetness and your clit pulses. You try to focus on her instructions and glide a finger through your folds, molten hot and dripping. You dip into your pussy and then withdraw. You repeat and whimper at how good you know it’s going to feel when she finally lets you fuck yourself.
“Slide one finger in slowly,” she demands and your head drops back as you do, the stretch nowhere near enough but still feeling delicious. Your walls immediately clench down around it and you moan.
When you look back at Agatha, your hips roll of their own accord — she’s started stroking her cock with your underwear. You can see how she’s glistening with your wetness and she thrusts every few times like she can’t control it.
“Mommy, can you…” Pleasure swims in your mind when you curl your finger and it interrupts your thoughts for a second. “Want you to be in the video, too.” You want to watch it back and see her as well.
Agatha inhales sharply. “Yeah, okay, babygirl. Whatever you want.” And then she steps around the iPad and comes into view of the shot, standing near the side of the bed so you can see each other more clearly.
Her cock bobs up and down and you time your thrusts inside you with each of her strokes so you can imagine it’s her inside you.
“Put another finger in,” she rasps and starts to speed up, your underwear moving frictionlessly over her with how wet it is.
The addition of a second finger makes you groan loudly and you can’t even tell if you’re trying to show off for the camera or not. Everything is so much more heightened now.
She makes you fuck yourself like that for about ten minutes, every now and then telling you to fuck yourself faster, babygirl and slow down, sweetheart and fuck, honey, you look so fucking hot for mommy.
You’re a complete mess now, absolutely ruined and babbling incoherently, soaking the sheets beneath you. Your orgasm has been steadily building this whole time and you know it won’t be much longer before you cum.
Agatha is also close by the looks of it; she’s completely flushed, her chest and neck tinted the prettiest pink, and her cock is leaking even more, her hips moving more sporadically. The ache inside you isn’t going away — it’s only getting worse the more you look at her.
“Mommy,” you whine, needing to feel your wife on you more than anything. “Please, please fuck me.”
“I know, baby,” she pants. “Just a second, let mommy move the camera.” And god, it makes you throb when she grabs the stand and angles it perpendicularly to the bed.
And then she climbs on the bed and situates herself between your open legs and leans over you so she can drag her cock through your soaked folds. The gasp she lets out drives you crazy and you keen when she rubs her tip against your clit.
“Beg for mommy,” she says, hair falling down over her face as she bites her lip. She positions herself right at your opening.
“I need you so bad, please fill me up, please fuck me, I need you so bad, mommy —” She pushes into you in one motion and your mouth drops open. Your walls immediately clamp down around her and she groans at the feeling.
It’s exactly what you need and when she starts to move, soft sounds fall from your lips with every thrust.
She twitches inside you when you pull her down for a quick kiss. “God, I can’t wait to watch this,” she grunts and it makes you clench. Her hips stutter. “You’re so good, such a good slut for me. Taking my cock like a superstar. Fuck, honey, I’m going to watch the video everyday, gonna figure out how to make it my home screen.”
The thought of Agatha opening up her phone to immediately see you being fucked by her makes you moan gutteraly and she huffs out a laugh. “Mommy, please.”
“Fuck, baby, you really like this, don’t you?” You nod your head quickly under her and her cock throbs inside you. You’re so fucking close. She feels so good inside you, her cock dragging deliciously against your walls, and hitting that spot inside you that she always does.
Pleasure is rolling over your body in waves and you lift your hips to meet each of her thrusts. It’s never been this intense before and you can’t believe you never thought to try filming sex before.
Agatha’s rhythm starts to falter inside you, she’s cursing, short of breath. She reaches between you to rub at your clit with two fingers and it makes you sob with how good it feels.
“Agatha, I’m so close,” you whine, beg. She ruts into you urgently, like she’s about to cum but needs to make sure you get there too, and she scrapes her teeth against your collarbone with a sharp thrust and presses on your clit and you explode, your orgasm tearing through your body and absolutely blowing your mind.
Your walls convulse around her and she stiffens, her breathing tightening, and then she lets out a long moan and you feel her pulse before her seed spreads through your cunt. You gasp at the warmth and Agatha collapses on top of you.
She lays there until she starts to soften before pulling out. Her cum starts to trickle out of your swollen pussy and you grind against nothing at the sensation but Agatha quickly jumps off the bed and grabs the iPad off the camera.
You gasp when you figure out what she’s doing — Agatha holds your legs open and holds the camera down close to your pussy.
“Spread your folds,” she directs, but without any of the authority she usually has. You reach down and do as she asks, more of her cum oozing out as you do. She swears under your breath. “Make yourself messy.”
You know what she means. You collect the wetness between your legs, both hers and your own, and start to stroke it all over your cunt.
“Fuck, honey, just like that,” she says and you rub your clit again, your body jerking under your own touch. “Clean your fingers.”
And then she lifts the camera to film you sucking your two cum-covered fingers into your mouth. You moan at the taste of both of you and Agatha looks like she might ravish you all over again.
The iPad gets tossed somewhere else on the bed and she leans over to kiss you before crawling down your body and cleans out her cum from inside you with her tongue.
Agatha doesn’t stop until she’s made you cum three more times.
When you wake up in the morning, there’s a pleasant soreness in between your legs and the sheets are still slightly damp. Light has started to stream in through the curtains on the large windows and you roll onto your side to find that it’s 8 am.
You have to be at the airport in an hour.
“Fuck,” you curse and jump out of bed, rushing around to get dressed and throw some clothes into a suitcase. With the end of the film, you haven’t had much time to get ready for this trip, and you are sorely regretting it now.
Agatha stirs while you’re trying to find the black dress for the cocktail party you have to go to in New York and mumbles something. You pause and wait for her to repeat herself. “Why don’t you come back to bed?” she asks suggestively, picking her head up to watch you.
“Babe, I have to be at the airport in an hour,” you say apologetically. “How do you still have energy after last night?”
Agatha chuckles and gets out of bed, coming over to wrap her arms around your shoulders from behind. You can feel her semi-erection through your suit pants. “I just always want to fuck you,” she murmurs into your ear and you debate whether or not you have enough time.
In the end, logic wins and you twist in her arms to give her a quick peck on the lips. “I’m sorry. When I get back I’ll make it up to you. Plus,” you say, eyebrows raising mischievously, “you have that video from last night.” The memory of making it heats through you — Agatha directing you on how to touch yourself.
You will definitely need to revisit that in the future.
But it does very little to quell Agatha’s lust and she grumbles as she goes to get dressed. “Maybe, when you get back, I’ll make you cockwarm me while we watch our little home movie and if you make one move, I won’t let you cum for a week.”
The idea runs straight through you right into your cunt and you seriously debate saying fuck it to New York entirely.
But an hour later, Agatha’s pulling up to the airport to drop you off and giving you a tight hug while she whispers in her ear how much she loves you.
You miss her the second you walk into the terminal, but you try to focus on preparing for your trip. There’s a few dinners, meetings, and parties that you’re expected to attend, just to get to know the right people for the next project that you could potentially be in. You know the other actresses being considered will also be there, so you need to be on your A-game.
And you’re able to focus for the entire plane ride, memorizing parts of the script they gave you, and when you land, you pull out your phone to text Agatha that you made it, only to find that she’s already messaged you a few times.
I miss you already, honey.
Hope you have a great time in NY! I know they’ll love you.
I wish I didn’t have to be here for this stupid meeting. I’d have loved to be there with you.
The first ones make you smile at how sweet your wife can be. But then the next couple are enough to reignite the fire in your stomach from earlier.
I miss your pussy, babygirl.
Can’t wait for you to come home so I can taste you.
Fuck, baby, mommy is so hard for you.
You’re too caught up in the messages to realize that your row is moving and the person in the middle seat taps your shoulder to get your attention. You startle and mutter an apology, hoping he didn’t accidentally see anything she sent you.
As you’re getting checked into the hotel, you get another text from your wife and the second you open it, you have to slam your phone down on the receptionist’s desk. She gives you a weird look but you pretend not to see it.
Watching the video — mommy loves watching her cum drip out of you. Fuck, honey. I’m going crazy.
Your heart is pounding, blood rushing to your cheeks, and you quickly take your room key and hurry up to the room. You press the call button and put your phone on speaker so you can start unpacking.
Agatha answers immediately. “Hey, sweetheart,” she says, the most casual you’ve ever heard, and you clench your jaw.
“Agatha, what are you doing? I haven’t even been gone six hours. You’re going to kill the both of us!”
Her low chuckle makes you squeeze your legs together involuntarily. “I’m actually all right, baby. Remember that fleshlight you got me as a gag gift last Christmas?”
Fuck. “Agatha,” you say warningly. You have to be at a steakhouse in about thirty minutes — you don’t have time for her to get you all worked up. You were so distracted this morning you didn’t even bring any of your toys with you either.
“Of course it’s not as good as the real thing,” she sighs, and you can hear a soft slapping noise on the other side. You feel dizzy with heat.
“Are you…” you trail off, not even sure you could say the rest out loud. Could you pretend to be sick tonight?
Agatha lets out a little moan and you’re sure it must be for show, just to rub it in. “Fucking this toy and pretending it’s your pussy?”
You can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips and you have to sit down on the bed. “Fuck, mommy,” you whine and she laughs cruelly.
“Don’t you have that dinner to get ready for?” she asks and with a sinking feeling in your stomach, you know what’s going to happen. You hum, almost wishing you would’ve lied. Agatha grunts, the slapping sound speeding up, and you have to close your eyes. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Love you.”
She hangs up before you can protest and you’re forced to get into the shower, the heat in your stomach burning more than the water, and your hand makes its way between your legs to furiously rub your clit.
You cum in about three minutes.
You can barely focus at dinner with the thought of her using a fleshlight, one that you got her as a joke nonetheless. Her hard thrusts into the toy, picturing your mouth or pussy.
When you finally get back to the hotel, you’re absolutely exhausted. The travel, being teased by Agatha, and now that dinner where you had to pretend like your body wasn’t screaming for you to get on a plane and go home to your wife wiped you out, and you barely press send on a goodnight text to her before you’re passed out.
The next few days pass in a blur with events jam-packed into your schedule and you hardly have any time to talk to Agatha. She’s good for the most part, with the occasional dirty text every now and then.
But on your second-to-last day in New York, she starts to play a different game.
You’re sightseeing, checking out the American Museum of Natural History, when your phone buzzes. It’s a video from Agatha.
You don’t really think much and you click on it and your jaw drops as your entire body freezes.
It starts out shaky and it takes a few moments for it to focus, Agatha clearly in the middle of something. And then it points down and you see Agatha fucking the fleshlight.
Turn your phone off your brain screams. But it’s as if you’re stuck, your eyes glued to the screen to watch her thrust over and over into the silicone toy. She’s holding it with her left hand, her phone in her right, and her hips are driving her cock into the fake pussy hard. You can almost feel her cock inside you, as if the toy and you are connected.
She’s going faster and you wish more than anything you weren’t out in public so you could turn up the volume and hear her moaning, hear if she’s saying anything. It cuts off right as she’s about to cum. You have no doubt that you will be very busy with the video once you get back to your room.
And by the time you get back to the hotel, she’s sent you another one. Luckily, you don’t have anything for two hours, so you’re free to do whatever you want.
You’re almost afraid to click on it, and you shimmy off your jeans and underwear preemptively. You’ve been worked up for so long and you’ve barely had a chance to touch yourself and you breathe a sigh of relief when your fingers press against your clit.
Clicking on the new video, your pussy spasms when you realize what you’re watching.
Agatha has the iPad set up on the table, the video of you two open and playing. It’s strange to see your own face contorted with pleasure on film while Agatha tells you how to touch yourself.
And then in the lower half of the video she just sent is her, thrusting into the fleshlight again.
“Fuck,” you whisper. She’s fucking the toy while watching you fuck yourself. You turn the volume all the way up so you don’t miss anything and her little grunts with each drive only turn you on more.
Your wetness makes a squelching sound when you drag your fingers up and down through your folds and when you come back up to circle at your clit, there’s almost no friction.
“God, babygirl, mommy can’t wait for you to come back,” Agatha groans and it makes your heart skip a beat. On the iPad, Agatha has slid her cock into you and you’re in awe at how hot it is watching yourself get fucked.
It becomes quite clear to you that Agatha’s idea of having you cockwarm her while watching this video would not bode well for you. There is absolutely no way you’d be able to stay still, as evidenced by your squirming hips grinding against your hand right now.
Agatha takes her cock out of the fleshlight, puts it down, and strokes her hand quickly over it and a flash of heat bolts through you when you see it glistening. And then she places the toy on the table and teases her tip against the opening, sliding it up and down, you keen and your back arches off the bed.
All you’re doing is touching your clit a little.
On the iPad, Agatha’s speeding up and you’re whimpering underneath her. In the video you just got, she starts to slowly push her cock back into the fleshlight.
In your hotel room, you shove two fingers inside you, moaning at the stretch, and begin to thrust in time with Agatha, who is thrusting in time with the video you made.
“Fuck, honey, I need your pussy,” she babbles and you curl your fingers just right, a moan slipping out of your mouth. “Can’t wait to fuck you when you come back, can’t wait to fill you up.”
Her thrusts are becoming shallower into the toy, her sounds getting louder, and you’re right there with her.
You’re determined not to cum before she does, even though it’s a video and you could speed it up to cum with her. But you don’t want to miss a thing.
Turns out, you don’t have to wait too long, because when Agatha on the iPad moves the camera close to your pussy after she came inside you, her cum gushing out of you, that’s it for your wife.
“You feel so good,” Agatha says on the video before letting out a long moan and thrusting roughly one more time into the fleshlight. She stiffens and grunts and then pulls her cock out and lowers her phone so you can see her cum still spurting out onto the lips of the fleshlight.
That makes you cum almost immediately and you clamp a hand over your mouth so you don’t get any neighbors in the hotel wondering what you’re up to.
The video ends shortly after that and leaves you gasping for breath on the bed. You type out a quick Can’t wait to get home tomorrow and hit send. Thankfully, your plane leaves in the morning so you’ll be home soon.
Agatha immediately sends you back a wink emoji and then an eggplant emoji, making you laugh.
After the last dinner, you watch the video again and make yourself cum two more times.
It’s been the longest week of your life, and when the agent for the franchise drops you off at the airport, you barely remember to shake her hand.
“We’ll be in touch,” she says. “But between you and me, I think you have a very good shot of getting this part.”
Even through the horny fog in your mind, you realize just how big of a deal this is and you can’t wait to tell Agatha.
You call her while you’re waiting to board and tell her.
“Honey, that is amazing,” she gushes and your heart swells. Agatha has been your number one cheerleader since you met.
“You know I’d be spending a lot of time in New York. If you could barely last a week, imagine how hard that would be,” you joke.
Agatha snorts. “I’d come visit you all the time. Or I’ll just quit my job and become your trophy wife.”
The thought of the legendary director quitting her job for anyone makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Got to get on the plane, Mrs. Harkness. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“I can’t wait, baby,” she says, her voice dropping an octave and making your stomach warm.
The entire plane ride, you can’t stop thinking about Agatha — about her hands, her mouth, her legs, her cock.
Would anyone notice if you pulled up that video again? Maybe you could go to the bathroom. With how you’re feeling right now, you wouldn’t need more than a few minutes.
And it only gets worse when you finally land and a car is already waiting for you to take you back. Excitement vibrates under your skin as you get closer to your house and you have to fan yourself to calm down. You can already feel your underwear sticking to you uncomfortably — lacy purple lingerie you brought on the trip just so you could wear it home.
When the car pulls into your driveway, you tip the driver and try to walk up to the door as slowly as possible, not wanting to seem too urgent.
The front door opens right when you get there and your wife is standing there, two glasses of red wine in her hand, casual pants and a tank top on, hair in a loose ponytail. You’re not sure she’s ever looked so hot.
“Hi,” you breathe, shutting the door behind you and leaning in for a quick kiss. Agatha deepens it and presses a glass into your hand and you take a long gulp.
“How was the flight?” she asks, sipping on her own wine. You drop the suitcase in the foyer and walk into your living room before plopping down on the white couch. She follows and sits next to you, her thigh touching yours.
Your heart is pumping so fast and you couldn’t care less about the flight because you’re finally here, with her. So you take her wine glass and put it on the coffee table with yours before climbing into her lap and kissing her roughly.
She makes a slightly surprised “oomph” before her tongue is in your mouth, entangling with yours, her hands creeping under your shirt and stroking up and down the skin of your sides. Her fingers are cold and they make you gasp.
“I missed you so much,” you murmur against her mouth and grind down hard on her rapidly growing bulge. She hisses and digs her fingernails into you. “You fucking tortured me.”
She laughs breathlessly, tugging on your bottom lip with her teeth. “I thought the video would help. It just made it so much fucking worse,” she admits and your entire body heats up. “I was so lonely — so horny — fuck, baby.” She loses her train of thought when you kiss down her neck and nip.
“I need your cock so bad,” you whimper, having thought of little else for the last twenty-four hours. You slide off her lap and onto the floor between her legs, your body moving faster than your mind, and you’re undoing her pants before either of you realize what you’re doing.
You pull her cock out and lick up the length with your flattened tongue and the sound she makes, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, goes straight to your cunt. She slouches more onto the couch so it’s easier for you to start lathering your saliva all over her. Her hips thrust up every now and then, and when you take the tip in and hollow your cheeks out, her ass fully lifts off the couch.
“God, honey, you suck mommy’s cock so well,” she whimpers and it spurs you on to go further down. There’s an ache in your stomach already and you can feel your wetness on your upper thighs.
Agatha’s hand tangles in your hair, but just rests and lets you go at your own pace. You can feel her twitch against your tongue and you suck harder.
“Baby, god, fuck — you’re so hot, mommy loves your mouth,” Agatha rambles and she throbs when her cock hits the back of your throat and you gag, tightening around her. She’s not going to last long, you can feel her pulsing and swelling, her cock growing heavier on your tongue. You think you could cum right now if you touched yourself.
You look up at her through your eyelashes and she groans like she’s in pain and then you pull your mouth off her, gasping for breath, while strands of spit still connect your lips to her cock. “Use me, mommy,” you say hoarsely and her hips involuntarily jump. “Fuck my mouth.”
This time, when you take her cock again, she thrusts her cock deep into your throat over and over. The only sounds in the room are you gagging and her moaning.
“Fuck, honey, I’m going to cum,” she pants and you nod slightly before trying to say something around her cock. But the vibrations against her feel too good and she stiffens before spurts of her cum fill your mouth. She slows her thrusts while she pumps her seed down your throat and you take it all, groaning at the somewhat salty taste.
She pulls out, cock soft, and slumps onto the couch and you wipe a strand of cum off your lip and suck it from your finger. You shift on your knees and she tracks the motion with her eyes, smirking wickedly.
“I always forget how hot and bothered sucking my cock gets you,” she purrs and then jerks her head to the couch. “Take your clothes off and lay down.”
You swallow roughly and get to your feet before teasing her by slowly taking your clothes off. Her fingers dig into the couch beneath her and her limp cock twitches just a bit when you reveal that you’re wearing her favorite lingerie. She’s always been able to recover relatively quickly and your mouth waters at the thought that, soon enough, you’ll have her inside you.
Once you’re naked, you settle on your back, one leg up over the pillows and your other foot resting on the floor, baring your dripping cunt to her. The look in her eyes is positively ravenous and she tosses the hair that’s come loose from her hair tie over her shoulder before situating herself so that she’s on her knees in front of you.
And then she leans down and runs her tongue through your folds — which are practically fused together with how wet you are — and you keen.
“Mommy,” you gasp, back arching. She chuckles against you and the feeling makes you moan. “I need you, please.”
She teases you a little, her tongue circling around your clit but never quite touching it, and your hips grind up to try to get just a little more stimulation. One of her hands trails up your body to pinch your nipple right as she sucks on your clit and you’ve never made such a high-pitched sound in your life.
Your noise drags a strangled moan from her mouth and her hips jerk. She starts to devour you, her tongue lashing against your clit and then thrusting inside you as far as she can go. Her other hand digs into your thigh, holding it open and using it for leverage just the same.
It takes you a little bit to notice what she’s doing — her hot mouth on your pussy has made your brain go completely fuzzy — but when you pick up on her flattened out body on the couch and her ass flexing in a steady rhythm, you clench violently around her tongue.
Agatha is grinding her cock against the couch. Eating you out for three minutes has gotten her so hard that she’s desperately getting any stimulation that she can.
Her fingers continue to tug and roll your nipple and her mouth is furiously lapping at your cunt and you can feel yourself getting so close.
“Please, mommy, Agatha, I’m —” you whine and her hand on your leg removes itself before she quickly slides two fingers into you while she rubs her tongue against your clit. Your walls bear down immediately around her and she curls them up and presses deep inside you. It makes you sob and your hips move on their own accord to chase the orgasm that is about to wash over you.
Agatha’s thrusts against the couch are getting more and more sloppy and she’s moaning against your cunt like she’s never been more content in her life. Your breathing becomes short and shallow and tingles spread through your entire body.
“Fuck, I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence before she sucks roughly on your clit and sends you right over the edge. Your vision goes white for a second, completely overwhelmed with pleasure as she keeps fucking you through your orgasm. She doesn’t stop, and although you have no doubt you’d be able to cum again in no time at all, it’s been too long without her cock inside you.
You tug at her hair weakly until she finally stops and looks up at you, her nose and the entire bottom half of her face absolutely coated with your wetness. Heat flares through your stomach and you almost shove her right back down between your legs.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Agatha coos and you whimper at her sweet voice. “Do you need more? Do you need mommy’s cock?”
When you nod eagerly, Agatha grins and crawls back up to her knees and you moan when you see her cock. It’s just as hard as it was before — maybe even harder? Is that possible? — and so red. It looks almost painful.
She bends over you and slides her cock against your entrance, both of you letting out heavy sighs of relief. “Wait,” you choke out, and she stops. You need to feel her deeper.
You turn over from your position on your back and get on your knees and elbows so that your ass is straight up in the air. Agatha sharply inhales and her hands cup your asscheeks before giving each one a little spank simultaneously.
Agatha drags her cock through your folds and then circles your clit with it, the feeling of her skin against yours making you keen.
And then she pushes into you, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan. Agatha mews once she bottoms out and holds still for a second, savoring the feeling of your walls milking her.
She starts to move, not even giving you a chance to adjust before setting a fast pace, her hips making a sound every time they slap against your ass. She’s filling you up so good, hitting a spot so deep inside you that makes you gasp each time, and your head drops to rest on your elbows while you start to push back against her thrusts.
Her pace stutters when you clench around her and she grabs onto your hips so tightly that your chest warms at the possibility of having bruises so you can remember just how good she fucked you. She practically slams you back and forth on her cock and there are no other thoughts in your head, no other words you can say, besides “Mommy!”
“I know, babygirl,” she rasps. “You’re taking my cock so well — fuck, I think this pussy was made for me. You were made for mommy’s cock, weren’t you?”
“Yes, god, yes, I was,” you pant, letting her completely use you. It’s like she’s just fucking her fleshlight and, god, that shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does.
She spanks your ass again and the familiar feeling of your orgasm rises steadily in your stomach. You can feel Agatha’s cock throbbing inside you with each thrust, can hear her groans become less restrained as she loses composure for the second time, and you need more.
Your hand snakes down between your body and couch to rub at your clit and your walls instantly clench around Agatha.
“Fuck, babygirl, mommy’s about to cum,” she gasps and it only drives you closer.
You press on your clit while her drives become short and fast, effectively knocking the wind out of you every time. “Cum inside me, mommy, want you to breed me,” you breathe and she falters for a second, a loud, guttural moan tearing from her lips, before recovering and fucking you even harder.
“Yeah, honey, mommy’s gonna breed you,” she babbles in agreement, an urgency you usually don’t hear from her lacing her tone. When you fuck, she usually does cum inside you anyway, but there’s something about asking her to breed you that turns you on beyond words. Seems like it has a similar effect on her too.
Tears gather in your eyes as she keeps thrusting into you and you’re not even aware that you’re cumming before your body spasms and jerks around her, and you keep frantically rubbing your clit to prolong the feeling spreading through you.
Your pussy convulses around her and she stills, grunting lowly, and then her cock stutters a few times inside you before pulsing and you whimper at the feeling of her cum spreading through you, and fuck, you’re so full.
Agatha stays inside you for a few moments, both of you enjoying the feeling, before pulling out. You curse under your breath when her cum oozes out of you in globs and Agatha runs and grabs a towel to clean you up.
You swear when she rubs the towel over your pussy, she brushes against your clit on purpose, and it makes you wince. You’re already sensitive from your two explosive orgasms and you don’t know if you could take anymore.
She helps you stand and the two of you walk up the stairs together, whispering sweet nothings and exchanging soft kisses, and then once you get to your room, Agatha turns on the shower while you sit on the edge of the tub and wait for it to warm up.
“I think next time you leave, I should come with you no matter what so I can fuck you every night for the rest of our lives,” she jokes and you laugh.
“Why did we even make that sex tape then?” you tease.
Her eyebrows wiggle teasingly and she comes closer to you and tugs you off the tub. “I seem to remember you liking that quite a bit. Plus, now when I’m at work and I get bored, I can just pull out my phone and watch what a good slut you are for me.”
Despite you being completely worn out, there’s no ignoring the heat that runs through when she says that. “God, you’re insatiable,” you say, mockingly dropping your jaw, and she chuckles before kissing your lips.
And then she opens the door to the shower for you both to get in and sinks to her knees in front of you. You gasp.
“You love it,” she says before licking through your swollen pussy and you have to lean back against the wall.
Yes, you do.
#agatha harkness x fem!reader#agatha harkness x reader#agatha x reader#agatha x you#agatha harkness x you#agatha harkness smut#agatha smut#agatha all along
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Snuggles and Cuddles
Genre: Romance, Comedy, Fluff
Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)
Characters: Girlfriend!Reader, Boyfriend!Yunho, Mingi (Cameo)
Summary: Yunho has the best alcohol tolerance amongst his friends. However, after a night out, you didn't think that his best friend would bring him home, absolutely wasted. Seems like alcohol unlocks a whole new side of your boyfriend you didn't know existed
Word count: 3.4K
Warning(s): Alcohol consumption, drunk-ness, y/n babies Yunho and teases him but all in good fun
A/N: I started this, not really having idol Yunho in mind. But I guess with Puddeongi, it means he's an idol right? Idk, I mainly wanted Yunho and Puddeongi in this story lmao
Tonight was finally a night to relax. No late night meetings, no work assignments to complete, nothing. So you put a movie on, turned off the light and nestled a tub of ice cream in your hand, enjoying your night off to the max.
"What time in Yunho getting back?" You thought out loud, checking your phone. Before knowing you had a night off, Yunho had made plans to go out for drinks with his friends.
Of course, your ever loving, sweet boyfriend immediately wanted to cancel to spend time with you when he found out but you insisted he go.
'Don't wait up for me, lovey~ I might be back late or go crash at Mingi's. - your Yuyu'
The last text he sent you was at 9:30pm. It was approaching midnight but you were not that worried. Yunho could handle himself.
*DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG*
"Ah! Coming." You put your bowl down and shuffled over to the door, wondering who was ringing your doorbell so incessantly. When you opened it, you were surprised to see Mingi standing there, struggling to hold up your drunk boyfriend. Mingi's face brightened up when he saw you there.
"(y/n)! Thank god." Mingi let out a sigh of relief. You blinked, taking in the scene before you. You've never seen Yunho so intoxicated before, he usually holds his liquor well compared to his friends.
"I-Is he okay?" You were unsure of what to do. Yunho's face was so flushed and eyes were closed.
"He's fine. Just had a little bit too much to drink. I wanted to bring him back to mine but he insisted on coming back here." He sighed.
"Oh... Thanks for bringing him home, Mingi. Are you sober enough to go home on your own? You can crash here if you'd like." You offered with a soft smile.
"I'm fine. One drunk is enough to keep you busy." He chuckled, stumbling a little as Yunho swayed.
"Alright, let me know when you get back." You said. Mingi nodded and you went over to help him, softly cupping Yunho's cheeks.
"(y/n)!" Yunho suddenly exclaimed loudly, making you and Mingi jump. He opened his arms and threw them around you, causing you to almost fall over. Luckily you held the wall.
"Yah. Don't hurt her." Mingi slapped the back of Yunho's head.
"Owww, don't hit me." Yunho pouted, nuzzling his head against yours affectionately. You patted his back to comfort him. It wasn't easy to balance yourself when your giant boyfriend decided to put almost his entire weight on you.
"I've got it, Mingi. Thanks again." You giggled. Mingi nodded and patted Yunho's head.
"Don't give (y/n) a hard time, Yunho ah." Mingi chided before leaving. You closed the door with your foot and guided Yunho in. There was no choice but to put him on the couch first.
"Yunho, are you alright?" You asked. He maintained his pout and shook his head.
"What's wrong?" You went closer to him. He didn't say anything but hugged your waist, burying his face against your stomach.
"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. Does your stomach not feel good?" You asked, running your fingers through his hair lovingly. His face and body was so warm compared to yours.
"My head hurts~" He whined.
"Alright, let me get you some medicine." You wanted to pull away but he only tightened his grip on you, shaking his head again.
"Silly, the medicine will make your head feel better." You chuckled.
"Noooooo~ I just want you~" He whined. You let out a soft sigh, unsure of what to do with a drunk, whiny Yunho. But he was honestly so cute. Normally, he was always such a gentle giant, a golden retriever, but he was never this needy and clingy with you. It was a whole new side of him that was so endearing.
"Yuyu, why don't we change and go to bed? We can cuddle then go to sleep." You offered. He looked up at you with excitement and nodded his head.
"Come on." You held your hand out to him, still supporting his body as you entered your shared bedroom to go to the bathroom.
"Sit here." You closed the toilet cover and let Yunho sit there while you grabbed his clothes.
"Where are you going?" Yunho asked but still stayed in his spot.
"I just went to get you some clean clothes, babe. It'll be more comfortable for you." You replied, putting the shirt and pajama pants by the sink. Yunho tilted his head.
"Arms up." You instructed. Yunho obediently raised his arms as you removed his shirt and helped him into one of his home shirts. It was hard when it came to changing his pants since his legs were so long, it was a struggle but you managed to do it.
"You're pretty." He giggled as he watched you wet a cloth with a dreamy grin on his face.
"Thanks?" You chuckled and wrung the cloth, proceeding to wipe his face gently since you didn't want to risk him showering and possibly falling or hurting himself in any way.
"I want to hold you." He said, arms reaching out for you like a sad child.
"I promise you can later, hmm?" You stroked his head. You rinsed the cloth and wiped his arms.
"This should cool you down." You carefully wiped his neck as well, which made him laugh and squirm. Yunho's laugh was always so infectious to you, the way he throws his head back to laugh.
"That tickles! And it's cold~." He giggled. You laughed along with him and grabbed his mouthwash.
"Do you think you can you rinse your mouth?" You asked since you didn't know how to help someone brush their teeth. He looked at you then the mouthwash, thinking for a while before nodding his head slowly. You had a watchful eye as he gargled the mouthwash.
"Spit." You instructed and he did. Thankfully he didn't swallow it.
"Good job, Yuyu." You reached up to pat his head. Yunho grinned bashfully at your praise and threw his arms around you.
"You smell nice~ So nice~" He buried his face against your shoulder, making you melt. You were wearing Yunho's shirt as a dress since he was so tall, like you always did. So you basically smelt like him.
"Let's get you to bed." You moved him out of the bathroom and to the bed.
"Here, I'll let you hug Puddeongi tonight." You helped him under the covers, grabbing Puddeongi and putting in into his arms.
"Hi, Puddeongi." He shyly waved to the plush as it stared back at him. He giggled and patted the plush's tummy. You had a stifle a laugh. You were usually the one to hug Puddeongi to sleep since Yunho preferred to hug you. Sometimes, he would even steal Puddeongi so you had 'no choice' but to hug him instead.
"Wait! Where are you going?!" Yunho genuinely looked like he was going to cry when he felt you pulling away from him. You stroked his hand to calm him down.
"I'm just gonna clear up, Yun. I'll be right back, I promise." You squeezed his hand.
"Promise?" Yunho pouted sadly and it did tug at your heart a little, seeing him so sad. You nodded your head.
"Okay..." He reluctantly let go of your hand, letting you go clean up. You went out to the living to wash your dirty ice cream bowl and turn off the television.
"See? I told you I'll be back, Yunho." You re-entered the room, seeing Yunho sulk, his cheek squished against Puddeongi's body. But when he heard you, he immediately perked up with a bright smile.
However, you didn't come back to bed immediately. Instead, you went to the bathroom to grab his dirty clothes that were on the ground and threw them into the laundry basket. You didn't want you or Yunho to trip while coming in. But you made sure you were in Yunho's view the entire time.
"(y/n)... Do you have a boyfriend?" Yunho asked as you moved around the room. From your position at the sink, you turned to see him sitting up, Puddeongi in his lap.
"Why is he so cute?" You mumbled to yourself, taking your phone to quickly snap a picture of him.
"I do." You nodded with a chuckle, washing your own face since you did sweat a little while helping Yunho. Yunho appreciated that you kept the door to the bathroom open so he could see you.
"Your boyfriend is very lucky to have you. You're so pretty." He replied with a serious tone.
"Yun, you are my boyfriend." You reminded.
"Oh... I am? Then I am very lucky to have you." He smiled, letting out a big sigh of relief. You laughed at him and hung the rinsed cloth up to dry then crawled into bed with him.
"Comfy?" You pulled the covers up after he laid back down, Puddeongi squished against his cheek. He nodded his head.
"Goodnight, Yun. I love you." You leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. But before you could turn around to turn off the bedside lamp, you noticed the pout and frown that was still on his face as he looked up at you.
"What's wrong? Does your head still hurt? Or your tummy?" You asked worriedly, stroking his head. Since he didn't let you get the medicine for him earlier, you didn't want him to be in pain.
"I want to hold you. Just now, you promised I could." He said with disappointment.
"I know, Yun. I'm just turning off the light and we can cuddle after." You smiled, turning off the light.
"I'm right here, okay?" You laced fingers with him. Yunho somehow managed to put Puddeongi on top of you to hug both you the plush in his arms.
"Hmm~ Hmm~" You heard Yunho making little noises.
"What's up, Yun?" You asked.
"Nothing. I'm just happy. I have you~ Puddeongi~" He said, kicking his feet with excitement. You were sure that if he was really a golden retriever, his tail would be thumping against the bed in happiness.
"Alright, happy boy. Go to sleep." You reached up to pat his head. You changed your position, letting Yunho hug your waist alongside Puddeongi, so he could lay his head on your chest to be the small spoon. His face and body were still a little warm but you liked having him close to you.
"Your heartbeat is pretty." He mumbled. Now you knew he was spewing nonsense. You giggled and stroked his head to try to lull him to sleep.
*BZZ BZZ*
"Hang on." You moved away to check your phone, unaware that Yunho was looking over your shoulder with a frown on his face.
'Hey, sorry I forgot to shoot you a text. I guess I fell asleep on the couch the moment I got back, didn't even have time to remove my shoes. But I'm back safe. - Mingi'
"Your phone light makes my head hurt. Stop." He whined, burying his face against your back.
"It's just your best friend telling me he's home safe." You informed, sending a quick reply to Mingi to give him an update about Yunho too.
"Ugh! Why are you talking to other guys? You said I am your boyfriend!" He huffed angrily, showing his frustration. You turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. The room was dark but the light from your phone illuminated his face a little.
"Yun... He's your best friend. He brought you home safely, we should make sure he got home safe too." You spoke to him slowly. Yunho turned his nose up from you.
"You big baby." You rolled your eyes but put your phone down. You were actually a little worried that your phone hurt his head.
"Okay, you just cuddle Puddeongi tonight. Goodnight, Yun." You wished. But suddenly, Yunho glued himself to you.
"Am not a baby." He mumbled against your chest as he hugged you like before, sandwiching you between the bed and Puddeongi. You hummed to appease him.
"I love you." He murmured as he drifted off to sleep.
"Love you too." You kissed his head and joined Yunho in dreamland.
The next time you woke up, Yunho had rolled away from you, snuggling with Puddeongi. You smiled softly and brushed his fringe away from his face so it wouldn't bother him.
"Rest well." You whispered. You couldn't help it, grabbing your phone to take a picture. Seeing Yunho's face squished against Puddeongi, it was too cute not to take a pic. After that, you tucked your phone away and adjusted the blanket over him before leaving the bedroom to let him sleep more.
When Yunho reached over, he expected his hand to reach yours or at least, your body. He didn't expect the empty space.
"Baby???" He sat up, looking at the Puddeongi in his lap in confusion. Why was he hugging Puddeongi and not you? He winced as he felt the pounding in his head.
"God..." He groaned, falling forward. When he heard the door open, he sat back up immediately.
"(y/n)?!"
"Woah, woah. Slow down, big guy. Are you alright?" You blinked in surprise at his reaction. He seemed like he was about to leap into your arms or something.
"You were not here." He sulked.
"I know, I wanted you to sleep more. And I cooked you food, you're always hungry after a night of drinking." You replied, sitting down.
"Gosh, what happened last night...? My head hurts so bad." He groaned and fell forward, leaning his head on your shoulder. You reached up to try and massage his head, hopefully being able to alleviate some of his pain.
"You don't remember anything?" You asked. He shook his head.
"It's okay. Here, I brought you some hangover cure and ginger ale, it'll help your head and tum. You can take meds later if you need." You told him, retrieving what you brought in for him.
"Lifesaver." Yunho said, downing the hangover cure. His face scrunched up at the bitterness but he chased it with the ginger ale.
"H-How did I get home? A taxi?" He asked.
"Mingi brought you home. He said he was going to bring you back to his to crash but you insisted on being brought home." You smiled. Yunho frowned slightly, trying to remember what happened.
"I'm drawing blanks here. I guess I really overdid it last night. Thank you for taking care of me, sorry if I troubled you." He sighed.
"What are you saying? Don't apologise, it's no trouble at all. You always take care of me when I'm on my period, we take care of each other when we're sick. It's just what we do, hmm? So no need to thank me and no need to apologise." You stroked his cheek and he leaned into your touch.
"That's right." He smiled, lifting your hand to kiss the back of it.
"So you really don't get remember anything?" You checked. Yunho's eyes widened at your words, shaking his head slowly.
"I-I didn't do anything, did I? Oh my god, did I hurt you?!" Yunho's hands flew to cover his mouth as he moved back from you, as if he was really scared.
"No! No, not at all, Yun. You didn't hurt me. I trust that you would never hurt me, no matter how intoxicated." You smiled softly.
"Phew! Cause if I did, I'll never forgive myself. I'll pack up and leave now." He let out a shaky sigh of relief.
"Okay, calm down. You didn't hurt me, no need to pack up and go anywhere." You chuckled. He smiled and leaned over to give you a kiss to your forehead, he was really the sweetest.
"You were mighty adorable though. I've never seen you like that before in all our years of being together." You giggled. Yunho merely looked at you and blinked in confusion at your words. You took your phone out and showed him the pictures that you took of him with Puddeongi.
"Delete this!" He yelled, grasping the device, his ears and neck turning red in embarrassment.
"No way! You were so cute. You were all whiny and clingy, wanting to hold me the entire time, kept saying I was pretty. I even needed to remind you that my boyfriend was you." You said.
"Please, if you love me, delete this. And delete from your brain what happened last night." He begged.
"I love you and I'm keeping this. When I let you hug Puddeongi, you even went 'hi Puddeongi'." You imitated the cute wave he did.
"Please stop, I beg you." He buried his face in his hands.
"Alright, I'll stop. Let's go eat the ramen I cooked you before it gets cold and soggy." You patted his head. Yunho nodded and went to brush his teeth before coming out to the kitchen.
You won't tell him that he was jealous of you texting Mingi last night, he seemed embarrassed enough. But thinking about it again made you laugh to yourself.
"Wait, are you still laughing at me?" Yunho stopped in his tracks when he caught you laughing quietly on your own. You lied and shook your head, putting the bowl of spicy ramen in front of him then grabbing him chopsticks and a spoon.
"Mmm, that hits the spot." He sighed blissfully after taking a sip of the salty, spicy soup. Thankfully it distracted him from how you were laughing at him.
"Are you eating, baby? You can have some." Yunho held his bowl out to you.
"It's alright, I had toast and coffee earlier when I woke up." You told him with a smile, placing your hand over his.
"That was great, just what I needed. Thank you, baby." Yunho leaned over to give you a kiss. You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, Yunho took the opportunity to pull you down into his lap.
"Can we spend the rest of the day in bed?" He asked, resting his cheek against your shoulder.
"Of course, you might want to shower first though. I only wiped your face, neck and arms when you came back." You informed.
"Are you telling me I smell?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Well, even with a change of clothes, you did spend the night out in a public place and you kind of smell like day-old booze." You wrinkled your nose. Yunho rolled his eyes but leaned in to nuzzle his cheek against yours lovingly. While you cleaned up and did the dishes, Yunho went to take a shower.
"Ah, that was great." Yunho sighed blissfully as he stepped out of the bathroom. You sat up on the bed, putting your phone aside.
"Come." You patted the space in front of you. Yunho happily climbed over to you, leaning down as you helped him towel dry his hair like you always do.
"You have to comb your hair. It's always so frizzy and poofy." You giggled as you grabbed his brush.
"I know, that's why I have you to do it for me." He turned around to smile at you.
"All done." You went to put the towel back in the bathroom. When you came out, you saw Yunho laying there with his arm around Puddeongi as he checked his phone.
"Look at you being best friends after I let you spend the night holding him." You teased. Yunho shot you a glare and shoved Puddeongi back into your arms.
"Come here. I would rather hug you." He opened his arms and you slotted yourself in them. Yunho always insisted that you fit so perfectly in his arms. You hugged Puddeongi tight, he smelt like a mix of you and Yunho now.
"So, why did you and the boys drink so much last night? I mean, you've never gotten so drunk before." You asked.
"Oh... I don't know, I can't remember." Yunho shook his head. You hummed. You didn't know that Yunho was lying, he knew why the boys kept pouring him drinks last night.
It had to do with the small velvet ring box that was hidden in the pocket of his blazer in the closet.
#kpop#kpop scenarios#kpop oneshot#ateez#ateez scenarios#ateez oneshot#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#ateez yunho#jeong yunho#jeong yunho scenarios#jeong yunho x reader#jeong yunho x you#yunho#yunho ateez#yunho x reader#yunho x you#yunho oneshot#jeong yunho oneshot#jeong yunho imagines
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You're the One - 1
Summary: A daughter uncovers the wild, untold story of how her parents’ marriage began—and it’s way better than any romance movie she’s ever watched.
Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Genre: Romance, Comedy
Words Count : 2,100
Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 ,-
Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻
Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️
Having a cool dad like Bucky is a blessing. For Jade, it definitely is. Her friends, after meeting him, always say things like: “He’s so cool!” “He’s so funny!” or even, “Can we trade dads?”
Jade could only roll her eyes. Sure, Bucky’s pretty chill and easygoing about most things, but there’s one thing that drives her crazy.
It’s not a big deal for her, but for Bucky, it’s a huge one.
Romantic movies, especially where the bride runs away from the wedding.
That’s why their house only has action and mystery movies.
But tonight, Jade wants to watch one of her favorite genres at home. Why? Because their home theater is amazing, a special project Bucky built for his wife and daughter.
Unfortunately, her dad’s silly rules mean she can’t enjoy it.
But tonight is different. He’s heading out to pick up her mom from the airport.
Jade is sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for her dad to leave.
In the hallway, Bucky stands in front of the mirror, fixing his hair and shirt while whistling a tune. Through the mirror, he notices Jade watching him.
“Don’t have a house party,” he says, pointing at her with mock sternness.
“Yes, yes,” Jade replies, hopping off the counter. She walks over, pushes him toward the garage, and tosses him the car keys. “Go pick up Mom.”
Bucky chuckles as he stumbles slightly. “Alright, alright. You’re awfully eager to get rid of me tonight.”
She smirks. “I just know how much you missed her. You two will probably go straight to dinner or something. Now, go!”
Bucky shakes his head, amused, and heads to the car. But as he opens the door, he suddenly stops.
“Wait… my wallet.”
He heads back inside.
“Jade?” he calls out. No response.
On the counter, his wallet sits neatly next to the fruit bowl. Grabbing it, he pauses. The house feels… too quiet.
“Jade!” he calls again, louder this time.
Still no answer. Frowning, he checks the living room and kitchen before heading upstairs. Knocking on her bedroom door, he’s met with silence.
“Did she sneak out?” he mutters. That didn’t seem like her.
Then it hits him. The home theater.
As he walks back downstairs, the faint smell of buttered popcorn wafts through the air. His suspicions confirmed, he pushes open the theater door.
“Jade!”
Startled, Jade nearly drops her popcorn but manages to save most of it. “Dad!”
She fumbles for the remote, pausing the movie and quickly turning off the screen. Her heart races—the scene on display had been the bride in a wedding dress.
Bucky strides forward, picks up the DVD case, and reads the summary. With a single glance, he knows exactly what it is.
“Jade, how many times have I told you? No romantic movies like this in my house.”
“But why?” she groans, flopping dramatically into her seat. “We have the best home theater! I just want to use it!”
Bucky crosses his arms, his expression stern. “Because they’re predictable. It’s always the same: someone’s crying, someone’s chasing, someone’s kissing. And the bride always runs away for some cliché reason.”
Jade huffs. “Why do you hate them so much? It’s not like Mom ever ran away from a wedding or something.”
The moment she says it, Bucky freezes.
Jade stares at him, her eyes widening. “Oh my God. Wait—she did, didn’t she?”
Bucky doesn’t answer. He turns and heads toward the door, but Jade jumps up, running after him.
She wraps her arms around his waist, trying to hold him back. “Dad! Is it true? Did Mom run away? How did you chase her? Why am I just finding out now?”
“I’m going to be late picking her up,” Bucky mutters, dragging himself forward with his daughter clinging to him like a koala.
Then, a notification chimes.
Both father and daughter glance at the phone on the counter.
The family group chat reads: “The flight’s delayed three hours. 😔”
Jade grabs the phone and shows him. “Look, Dad! Mom won’t be here for another five hours.”
Bucky sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Please tell me!” Jade begs. “I promise I won’t watch the movie. This is way more interesting. Why did Mom run?”
Bucky turns to her with a serious expression. “She didn’t run away.”
“Huh?” Jade tilts her head, confused.
“She didn’t run away,” Bucky repeats. “I kidnapped her on her wedding day.”
The room goes silent.
Jade’s jaw drops as she points an accusing finger at him. “You… you stole Mom from someone else?! You're the bad guy!"
Bucky rolls his eyes and pushes her hand down. “If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t have had a happy life.”
He heads to the kitchen, grabs a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and takes a long drink.
Jade, now buzzing with excitement, follows him like a shadow. “Tell me! Tell me everything! How did that happen?”
Seeing her curiosity, Bucky sighs and gestures to the couch. “Fine. Sit down. I’m only telling this story once.”
Jade darts to the couch, grabs her popcorn, and settles in, eyes wide with anticipation.
Bucky clears his throat and leans back against the counter. “Alright. It was 15 years ago…”
💍🔔💍🔔
15 Years Ago
The changing room in the chapel buzzes with excitement. Your bridesmaids gather near the mirrors, giggling and chatting as they adjust their dresses and share jokes.
“Oh, did you see the flower arrangements?” one of them exclaims. “The Jordans really went all out!”
“They’re stunning. Just like this wedding,” another adds with a dreamy sigh.
Their energy fills the room, but you sit quietly in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. The white wedding dress you’re wearing is nothing short of a masterpiece. Designed by a world-renowned fashion house, it fits you perfectly, every intricate detail exuding elegance. The lace, the pearls, the veil—it’s flawless.
But it doesn’t feel like yours.
“You’re so lucky,” one of the bridesmaids says, leaning toward you with a knowing smile. “Everything about this wedding is perfect. And Clark? He’s an absolute catch. You’re living a dream!”
You force a smile, your lips twitching just enough to look convincing. “Yeah… lucky,” you reply softly, though your voice lacks conviction.
In truth, you don’t feel lucky. You feel trapped. This wedding isn’t about love; it’s about business. The Jordans—one of the wealthiest families in the country—are securing an alliance with your family. It’s an arrangement, a deal sealed with vows.
It’s not that you dislike Clark. He’s kind, patient, and honest—a good man by anyone’s standards. The wedding is happening with your consent, after all.
Still, your heart feels heavy, uneasy. Marriage is forever. And with Clark? The problem is, you don’t love him. Not yet.
You hope, maybe after the wedding, the love will grow. Maybe with time, you’ll learn to love each other deeply. But right now, your heart is stuck in the past.
It doesn’t belong to Clark—it belongs to someone else.
Bucky.
The thought of his name makes your breath hitch. That wild man who once turned your world upside down. He was nothing like the calm, dependable Clark. Your parents couldn’t stand him, but you didn’t care. You chose him. For a while, you and Bucky were unshakable, inseparable—until life threw challenges your way, and the weight of it all broke you apart. He was the one who ended it, leaving you shattered.
Your gaze drifts to the window. You wonder where he is now. Is he happy? Did he achieve his dreams? Has he found someone else?
You shake your head and whisper to yourself, “Why am I even thinking about him?”
Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you try to push the thoughts away. It’s your wedding day. You should be focused on Clark, not your ex. You give yourself a light tap on the forehead. “Stop it,” you mutter.
But just as you’re about to take a deep breath, the door to the changing room bursts open with a loud bang.
Startled, you whip your head around, your eyes widening.
“Bucky?!”
There he is, standing in the doorway like he’s just stepped out of a different world. His leather jacket looks completely out of place among the pristine suits and elegant dresses. His dark jeans and worn boots carry the same rugged confidence you remember.
“What are you doing here?” you stammer, rising to your feet, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might leap out of your chest.
He steps closer, a familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Isn’t it obvious?” he says, his voice low and teasing. “I’m here to steal the bride.”
Your breath catches, and your mind races. “Huh?” is all you manage to get out.
Before you can process what’s happening, he closes the distance between you. In one swift motion, he grabs you and hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Bucky!” you shriek, pounding your fists against his back. “Put me down! Are you insane?!”
He chuckles, his grip firm as he carries you toward the door. “A little, yeah. But you’re not staying here.”
Your bridesmaids are frozen in shock, their mouths agape. One finally breaks the silence with a panicked, “Somebody stop him!”
But no one moves. Maybe it’s the sheer audacity of the moment, or maybe it’s the dangerous confidence in Bucky’s eyes. Either way, you find yourself being carried out of the room, your heart racing in a way that feels strangely familiar.
“Bucky!” you shout again, your voice laced with equal parts anger and panic. “You can’t do this!”
“Oh, I can,” he replies smoothly, “and I am.”
As he strides down the hallway, you struggle to free yourself, but his grip doesn’t falter. Despite the chaos, there’s a part of you—a small, buried part—that feels alive in a way it hasn’t in years.
And that terrifies you.
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#bucky barnes x reader#husband!bucky#bucky x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky barnes au#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#buckybarnes#bucky x female!reader#bucky x f!reader#bucky barnes x fem!reader#marvel fanfiction#marvel x reader#the winter soldier#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky fanfic#bucky#bucky barnes x you#you're the one
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Ladies, gentlemen and other folk who see themselves outside those groups, please be advised! This is not for the faint of heart. TW: racism, sexism, bigotry, parental abuse, exploitation, alcoholism, smoking, swearing, sexually explicit content. Very much of the time period.
After a life of general obscurity, in 1938 you come out of hiding to star in the biggest production in Hollywood history. Hopefully, your own demons, those imagined and those very much real don't tear you apart before the closing scene!
Greer Monroe 🎭
Your co-star. With beginnings in comedy, he's trying to be seen as a serious actor. He's everything a person believes a leading man to be. 29 years old.
Preference: he's an actor, of course he's had gay sex men or women.
Magenta Wey 💎
Your other co-star. After a recent... scandal she's seeking to move past that event with a new role. A classic blonde bombshell. 30 25 years old.
Preference: women.
Jack Harlow🎙️
A singer. Wishes he could sing his own songs instead of giving the best ones to bigger artists. Handsome in his way, just not as flashy as those on the screen. 27 years old.
Preference: men.
Ashley Booker 📽️
The director. Hit it out of the park five years before and after a serious of failures, seeks to make a comeback. Everyone says Ash is good-looking, but Ash doesn't like the image in the mirror. 32 years old.
Preference: is partial to women but is curious about men.
You ✨
Your last name is Skylark. Do you want to be famous? Is it to fill the void inside? It's far too late to make anyone proud.
—————
Also if you could reblog that would help a lot :)
DEMO (08/2) | Spotify
Check out my other IFs: We Wretched Creatures, Excellent Cadavers
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⋆˙⟡ — plot ideas !!
hey y'all!! i'm back at it again — meaning i'm bored, it's a dreary autumn, and i'm finding myself retreating back to cutsey fantasylands in my mind 🥰 listed below are a few plot ideas i've had in my notesapp for a while — as always, send an ask or a private message if you'd be interested in any of these up !! happy writing !!
childhood sweethearts (on the rocks)
a plot where muse a and muse b have been friends since childhood — here and there, they would have a one night stand, but never really allowed themselves to progress into anything more than just friends. now, as adults who are figuring out the dating scene isn’t as easy as their parents made it seem, muse a and muse b are seeing each other more and more frequently. eventually, muse a starts seeing someone new, and has less and less time for muse b. i’m talking jealousy, tension!!! muse b realizing maybe they’ve had feelings for muse a the whole time, muse a having to make tough decisions — either continue dating this new person or hurt muse b!!! i liiiiive for drama pls
childhood sweethearts (with a twist)
okay but a plot where close childhood friends reunite — except muse a was in love with muse b growing up, and muse b became muse a’s best friend’s high school sweetheart. muse a concealed their feelings for muse b all throughout their friendship, in high school & college, although both muses definitely had feelings & felt sparks for one another long before muse b started dating muse a’s best friend. despite the connection they’d felt, neither wanted to jeopardize any of the friendships between the three, and ultimately, muse b ended up married to muse a’s bff… except now, years later, muse a and muse b reunite at muse a’s best friend’s funeral. imagine the hurt of losing a loved one but having the comfort of yet another loved one?? blurred lines, tension, second-guesses…….
let me take care of you (southern charm)
okay so i’ve been kicking around a ranch hand plot where muse a is looking for help around the ranch they’ve just inherited due to a death in the family, and seeing as they’re just one person with lots of land, and virtually no knowledge on how to take care of it, it’s impossible to go it all on their own… enter muse b. muse b, a man who not only knows how to work the land but can take care of the ranch with ease, finds it impossible to not take care of muse a, while he's at it. just give me texan sunsets and lovers with low static music crooning in the background from some vinyl record please & ty
friends with benefits (with feelings)
a friends with benefits plot where muse a is dead-set, hellbent on not having a relationship and not getting too intimately involved with muse b; muse b has been in love with muse a for years, and muse a knows this, but still can’t bring themselves to get emotionally attached. i need tensionnnn and like, a lil toxicity ykwim??? for the angst omg
will you come find me (after the after party?)
so hear me out — a plot where muse a and muse b met at a friend of a friend’s party & instantly hit it off. muse a is immediately infatuated with muse b — they laugh, talk, drink; they even make an incredible beer pong team. at some point during the night, muse a decides to put the moves on muse b. however, after leaving to get them some drinks, muse a comes back to find muse b kissing someone else… and to make it worse? it’s their boyfriend/girlfriend. tbh this plot could have the potential of a shakespearean comedy if we did it right akdjgh ok i'm talking messssssssyyyy
you feel like home (but i’ve got a different address)
okay so i need a tense plot where muse a and muse b are soulmates, beyond the shadow of a doubt — but muse a is married to a nightmare of a spouse. little by little, they spend more time together one on one, but it’s getting increasingly harder for muse b to see muse a with their spouse, especially knowing how that spouse treats muse a. idk this is a rough plot/work in progress plot but i feel like it has potential to go somewhere!!!
— as always, send an ask or a private message if you'd be interested in any of these up!! happy writing 🥰🥰
#1x1 plot#plot idea#plot ideas#wanted plots#my plots#indie oc rp#indie rp#1x1 rp#plot bunny#rp plots#literate rp#plot inspo
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Age Gap (Buggy x Reader)
A/N: for @soft-mafia since she wanted more age gap Buggy! Mostly bulleted like a headcanon but has two little drabbles sprinkled in cuz I couldn't help myself. I will be posting a continuation of this actually writing out the scene mentioned at the end, but I wanted to get this out now.
Word count: ~2.6 k
Warnings: obviously an age gap but the younger one is mentioned to be in their 20s, fem!reader, NSFW mentioned at the end, alcohol consumption, probably (hopefully) silly humor, the touch starved shows hardcore for a second there, tried my best to get Buggy right but you know how it be especially because he exists as an amalgam of LA and anime Buggy in my brain
Now come get y'all dopamine
I imagine you joined Buggy’s crew largely looking for that found family goodness then found out how much you’d never been taken care of and how much you craved it
One day while going through the different acts you were learning from the crew trying to find what stuck, you took a decent fall. Not the kind that breaks bones, but the kind where you just gotta lay there a sec and recalibrate how you got to this point
After some laughter (I mean come on it is a crew curated by Buggy and they could tell it wasn’t serious), the nearby crew surrounded you to check on you. While you were breathlessly saying you’re fine from your position on the floor, they parted to reveal the Captain coming to your side:
Buggy bent down to loom over you. The shadow he cast over your face was a welcome break from the bright overhead lights. You just wished that the way they haloed him didn’t make it so hard to see the laughter on his face.
“Good form! I think we could just throw you around to see you flail like that as your act - you’d be our finest comedy routine.” His voice was thick with sarcasm and giggles. However, his detached arms were gentle when they lifted you from the floor. They changed to posing outstretched with his hands on your shoulders and he walked into them to reattach. He looked you up and down before circling around you, all the while his hands were nudging you this way and that for his inspection. Once he was back at your front, he changed to brushing some dirt from your arms and shoulders. You didn’t speak for fear of interrupting this attention you were receiving from him. He seemed to suddenly snap to clarity anyway.
“RIGHT.” Vocal control? Who is she? Buggy doesn’t know her. “So either get better at what you’re doing or actually fall on purpose. Wouldn’t want you fucking up that money maker.” He was already walking away when one detached hand gave your cheek two brisk pats and he made himself scarce.
It was obvious to you and everyone else how much you ate up his attention. The soft look you were still giving the direction he went in was damn near sickening. It was then you understood your purpose here - becoming Buggy’s spoiled lapdog.
Luckily for you, that was also the moment Buggy realized how his body buzzed when he touched you and how he lit up when you looked up at him with pretty, wide eyes.
Unluckily, he also decided that being near you would lead down a dangerous route of him needing more and more of you and he was positive that he was just being some old creep over a pretty little thing like you.
This led to a game where Buggy would try to keep you at arm’s length while he battled both his own desire to be around you and your seemingly supernatural ability to just appear next to him at all times.
He wasn’t great at the arms distance thing even when he thought he was nailing it because nailing it to him was being in his natural space as the center of attention and only checking (immediately and desperately) that you were watching and approving of whatever he was doing. The way his head would always snap to you for your reaction was neither subtle nor discouraging to your rapidly growing infatuation.
You decided that orbiting his personal space wasn’t working well enough. Sure, he’d give you a hit of what you wanted with some fleeting touches and mostly disguised compliments but you needed more. Hurting yourself intentionally so that he would take care of you didn’t seem like a sustainable option, so you settled on playing his own game. Time to practice owning a room.
This could be a dangerous game to play. You were certain that blatantly taking the spotlight would just make him upset with you not that you’d mind him taking that out on you. You settled on more subtle things like spreading your attention more through the crew instead of mostly on him, being more focused and daring in your training, participating more in the many games that broke out when the alcohol did, and dressing a bit more intentionally (whether that’s flashier colors, eye-catching accessories, bold makeup, new or intricate hairstyles, etc.)
The boldest card you played was feeding more into any of the flirting you received.
He has a freak show, yes, but have you ever seen how fine circus performers are?? Full fun costumes are It and also the tasks they have to perform either help them get conventionally attractive bodies and/or the rizz that comes with performing feats (just look at the traction Fryboy has gained with women like damn why he kinda-). Due to that, you’re around attractive people all the time.
While the flirting is for the purpose of pushing Buggy’s buttons, you must admit that it wasn’t a hard habit to keep up and may help inflate your ego.
Your attempts have mixed results. Buggy’s desire to claim you grew but so did his insecurity
In his mind, you look more natural next to one of the younger lookers in his crew while he’s certain the pair of you must look ridiculous together. It’s this very insecurity that’s gonna make it necessary for you to bluntly and shamelessly throw yourself at him both repeatedly and with no room for questions:
You have no clue what else you can do to get through that thick skull of his. You’re on your knees, quite literally at that. You figured that kneeling in front of that circus throne while he’s laid himself all over it would be enough to break the man. Enough to break any man, really, but he’s still finding ways to deflect you.
Buggy nodded his head to a nearby open seat. “You know they made chairs to be comfortable and your dumb ass is on the floor. That drunk already?” he snorted. Maybe choosing to do this during one of the many celebrations (you think this one is for one week of no one pregaming for show runs. ironic.) was a bad idea. You had been banking on some drinks loosening up whatever was holding him back. It always made you snicker when you entertained the idea of it being from a sense of propriety. Checking in on the situation, you could see how all the chaos going on around you two made it easier for him to keep his eyes off of you and his ears unfocused. Earlier, you had counted it as a plus that working up a buzz would help you bulldoze through his stubbornness. You had forgotten that any alcohol in your system would make for the perfect excuse for him to write you off.
“I’ve barely started my third drink,” you started with a pout, “and I’d be ashamed if that’s enough to get me drunk after all the time spent on your crew.”
“Then you are just being stupid.”
You huffed and rolled your eyes. Okay. Attention didn’t work. Compliments didn’t work. Kneeling didn’t work. Time for some big guns.
You shifted to the side so you’d be sitting towards your left hip with your bent legs beside you. Your drink found its way to your right hand but, most importantly, your chin found its way onto Buggy’s left knee. It brought you so close to where you’d really like to put yourself to work, and, man, was the temptation strong with the way his right leg was slung over the armrest of his seat. How did he expect you to stay away when he was serving himself up on a platter like this?
Buggy was definitely giving you his undivided attention now. His gaze was dark and slightly accusatory. The lighting matched with his makeup made him look more dangerous than usual. The nerves it sent through you might have had you back right off. Instead you held your ground because you saw his pulse hammer against his neck. You saw his throat bob as he swallowed. You saw his pink tongue contrast with red as he licked his lips and gave a shaky exhale.
While you were starting to settle into your bold move, Buggy was becoming more and more antsy. His grip on his glass became white-knuckled under his gloves, and he tried to give himself time to think by taking a huge gulp of his drink. Why did you have to look at him like that? So pleading? The angle from his lap made your lashes darken your eyes and it was impossible for him to keep the image of your hooded gaze about a foot closer to him out of his head. What did you want from him? You’d denied his accusations about money or intel so what the fuck could it be? Was this a game? Get in the pants of the Captain for preferential treatment and go back to whoever else you had in your palm on the crew to laugh about him falling for it?
You noticed his mood turning sour so you decided to interrupt whatever was tumbling around his head. “I think I could get much more comfy right here.” To prove a point, you dragged your chin to his inner thigh, right above his knee, and snuggled your cheek into his leg. His pants weren’t the softest against your skin but he was so addictingly warm through them. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut to enjoy the sensation before you looked back up at him and flirtatiously said, “I’m comfiest next to you.”
His hands itched with the need to grab you by the hair and force your face right where he needed you. Instead he scoffed at you. “Suuuuure. And why’s that, princess?”
“You make me smile,” you admitted immediately. His startled gaze met your lovesick one and you realized what you said and how quickly you said it. Too close to emotionally vulnerable; time to backtrack a touch. You want to get the role as his trophy before you even attempt to approach the title of Love of His Life. “You also said that you take care of your crew and I’m on your crew, right? So you’ll take care of me.”
The cheeky smile you spoke through melted him. An achingly deep sigh left him while his right hand detached from the arm to deposit his drink on the floor next to you. Quickly, it flew back to its limb. Both of your hearts pumped fire through your chests as he reached that hand out towards you. Buggy took his time stroking his fingers from your forehead into your hair. When his palm came down to join the gesture, you were very happy to realize that his hand was just as warm as the thigh still under your cheek. You shuffled closer so your legs squeezed in between his foot and the left leg of his throne. Buggy shuddered when he felt your fingertips graze the back of his calf and spread out like a star so you could grab it. Using your new grip, you snuggled more firmly into his leg and let yourself buzz off of getting this new touch from your Captain.
Ulterior motives be damned, Buggy couldn’t give them any credence when you looked so happy to sit at his feet and receive such a simple touch. He should probably laugh and call you a needy puppy to regain some control over the situation. Instead, he slipped his hand down the side of your head. He massaged his fingertips into the base of your skull and said, “I’ll take care of you, little star.”
Once he has accepted that you’re serious there will be jokes about the dynamic but do not be fooled - he can only dish it out and WILL spiral if he receives any type of comment about how much older he is (the word geriatric is punishable by death)
Sometimes the joke is him patronizingly treating you like a child (you almost socked him right there at the dinner table when some food came at your face with accompanying airplane noises)
Sometimes it’s calling you a gold digger (“then where’s my allowance, huh?” “OH so my gIFTS AREN’T ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW? YOU were the one ACTUALLY CRYING over me buying you that wonky ass stuffed seal with the lopsided face!!” “HIS NAME IS JERRY AND YOU WILL SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT”)
Sometimes it’s just dumb shit like pointing at the type of girl’s clothing store that has made a contract with God to own all the pinks and pastels the world has to offer before turning to you straight faced and asking if you want to stop in to look. Any way this man can think to goof, he will.
And it’s tooooootally a coping mechanism to process the fact that he’s nearly forty and dating a twenty-something and not at all because joking around with you has become one of his basic survival needs
The dynamic ends up helping both of y’all feel special - you have a hot, boisterous, spotlight-stealing pirate captain pampering (and then making a mess of) you while he gets a beautiful, capable, eye-catching young thing looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky
Nothing goes to Buggy’s head more than when you walk into a room full of people, attractive ones especially, and only see him.
He loves anything that makes it obvious to others that you are his, whether that's him draped over you, you draped over him, red stains on the back of your hands, your shoulders, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, having his jolly roger on your outfit, having you in his hat or coat
This very much extends to him wanting anyone and everyone to overhear you in the bedroom. Everyone should know you're his and he's the only one who can make you feel so good
Don't worry, they'll also get the message that he's yours from all the moaning and praises
He gives you endless pet names but always comes back to “sweet stuff”, “sweets”, “princess”, “star”, “prima donna” (affectionate), “prima donna” (derogatory), and anything preceded by “little” (“little showstopper”, “little tease”, very rarely “little girl” if he feels especially like exerting power over you)
He prides himself on making you feel cared for and safe. Instead of feeling like a chore he has to do because he’s in the ‘older man’ role, he loves the way you preen under his attention and how you happily return the favor.
When in the Cross Guild Era, Buggy started going to all meetings with you by his side then on his thigh. It was a good defensive strategy because the other two seemed more hesitant to throttle him if you were in the way, but lets be real this man is also clingy and loves showing you off too.
At first he found it offensive that Mihawk and Croc were so disbelieving at the sight of you happily perched on your captain’s lap but then it made him the smuggest motherfucker when he would see their eyes trail over you knowing that they can only look and he can touch however he wants. This leads to him pushing until he hit your boundary at leaving very visible marks on you
One time he fucked you stupid right before a meeting so that you wouldn’t think about the bite mark surrounded by red makeup that kept playing peekaboo with your shirt collar (or the red smears between your thighs that showed whenever you shifted your legs)
#buggy x reader#buggy the clown#one piece#one piece x reader#buggy one piece#opla buggy#buggy x you#buggy x y/n#my writing#fem reader#afab reader#x reader
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𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐒
— cozytober masterlist !
summary: you finally convince matthew to face his fears by watching a horror movie.
warnings: definite spoilers of The Conjuring, couple swear words,
word count: 1.11k
notes: fourth installment of cozytober! hope you guys enjoy this one
You shift on the couch, settling next to Matthew with the remote in hand, your excitement barely contained. You clicked through the titles before finding The Conjuring and selecting it.
You glance over at Matthew, who’s leaning back, arms crossed over his chest as he does his best impression of calm confidence. “You sure about this?” you tease, raising an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.
“Yes I’m sure. It can’t be that bad,” Matthew replied, voice dripping with forced confidence. “It’s just a movie, it’s fake. How scary can it be?”
You bite your lip, trying to hold back a laugh. He’s putting on that brave face, but you can see the way his foot taps against the carpet, the slight tension in his posture that gives him away. It’s adorable, really. He’s never been good with horror movies, and you know tonight is going to be no different.
The one thing that you and Matthew seemed to be at odds about was movies. You liked sci-fi and action movies, while Matthew preferred comedy and even the occasional romance. However, your biggest dissimilarity was when it came to horror movies. You loved every gorey flick, every jump scare that had your heart pounding in your chest. Matthew, however, couldn’t stand the genre. He’d never admit that it’s because the category scared him, instead claiming they’re too predictable or cheesy, but he couldn’t seem to get through any horror flick without pausing multiple times and being plagued with nightmares about the movies content. When he watched Childs Play with his brother a few years back, it took a nearly a full month for Matthew to stop seeing Chucky in his dreams.
You raised an eyebrow, doubting his bravado. “Uh-huh, just remember you said that.” You couldn’t help but smirk as you pressed play, the ominous opening music filling the room. Matthew shuffled a little, and you noticed the subtle tension in his shoulders. He might’ve been putting on a tough act, but the atmosphere was already getting to him.
The movie begins, creeping in with its unsettling buildup, and you sneak a glance at Matthew. The tension in his jaw betrays him as the camera pans across the creepy Annabelle doll. His fingers tap against his thigh, faster now, and his eyes are wide, a little too focused on the screen, as if by sheer willpower he can keep the fear at bay.
“You okay there, Matty?” you asked, nudging him lightly.
“I’m fine.” he said a little too quickly. His eyes stayed glued to the screen, but you caught the way he flinched when the first jump scare hit — a door slamming shut. You snickered softly, Matthew throwing you a sideways look. “It was loud, I wasn’t expecting it.” he said.
His tough guy act only lasted so long, the movie beginning to tear down his defenses. Every tense moment accentuated by creepy music, caused Matthew to shift closer to you, whether he realized or not. When the demon finally showed itself, jumping off the closet, Matthew grabbed onto your arm. You glance down at it, his fingers gripping you a little tighter than necessary, but you decide not to say anything. His pride’s already hanging by a thread.
The atmosphere in the room is thick now, and when the climax of the movie hits—the mother’s possession scene — Matthew’s resolve crumbles. His breath hitches, his body tense, and when you turn to check on him, you catch him squeezing his eyes shut, the blanket pulled up so high it’s practically a shield.
“Matty,” you whisper, nudging him lightly, “you’ve gotta watch the rest. You’re missing the best part.”
“I’m watching,” he mutters, voice muffled behind the fabric. “Just… taking a break.”
“C’mon, you gotta see the ending. It’s the scariest part,” you coax with a grin, watching as he cracks one eye open, then immediately shuts it again. A small giggle escapes you, but you let him be. The poor guy’s already hanging on by a thread.
Without even realizing it, Matthew ends up practically wrapped around you by the time the movie reaches its terrifying conclusion. His arms are tight around your waist, like you’re some kind of human shield, and his cheek rests lightly against your shoulder. It’s kind of sweet, really, and you’re definitely not complaining about the sudden closeness.
Finally, the credits rolled, and Matthew let out a long breath of relief, sinking back into the couch like a man who had just survived a battle. He stayed quiet for a second, as if gathering himself.
You turn to him, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well? Thoughts? Ready for round two? I hear Insidious is next-level scary.”
The look he gives you is pure exasperation, his eyes wide, like you’ve suggested jumping out of a plane without a parachute. “Not a chance in hell. You’re twisted for enjoying these movies.”
You burst into laughter, the sound filling the room as Matthew shakes his head, still looking a little rattled. He mutters something under his breath about you being a “crazy bitch,” but there’s no bite to it, just fond exasperation.
“Okay, okay,” you say between giggles. “I promise, no more horror tonight. But… maybe next time?”
“Next time?” He raises an eyebrow, still eyeing you warily. “There’s not gonna be a next time.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” you say in a low tone. Despite the movie ending a few minutes ago, your conversation turning playful, you could still sense Matthew dripping with tension.
“You okay?” you ask, rubbing his arm softly.
“I’m fine…” Matthew reassures you. “But I will be seeing that creepy ass woman in my dreams tonight.”
You snort, grabbing the remote from the cushion beside you. “How about we leave off on a lighter note?”
Matthew’s eyes soften with relief as you scroll through the options, finally landing on a colorful, cheerful title. “How about Hotel Transylvania? No jump scares, no possessed moms… just some cute cartoon monsters.”
He visibly relaxes at the suggestion, sinking into the couch as a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, giving you a light squeeze. “Now that I can handle.”
You hit play, and as the goofy, fun atmosphere of the movie took over, you nestled back into Matthew’s arms, both of you finally at ease.
You hit play, settling back into Matthew’s arms as the room fills with the playful, goofy sounds of the animated movie. The tension from The Conjuring melts away, leaving behind a cozy warmth as the two of you snuggle up together. Maybe horror wasn’t his thing, but moments like this? You wouldn’t trade them for anything.
#matthew knies#matthew knies x reader#matthew knies imagine#nhl#nhl imagine#hockey#hockey imagine#toronto maple leafs#mk23#halloween#horror#fluff#clover's cozytober
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Starting to think the hype for a show is inversely proportionate to its quality because wtf all the best premieres this season have had no hype! Like where the hell did this show come from, Cloverworks knocked this first episode out of the park and if this is any indication of how the rest of the series is gonna look, look out for a dark horse AOTS contender.
There’s no better studio to handle shows that have a blend of action and comedy than Cloverworks. They’ve shown us time and time again with Spy x Family, Balance Unlimited, Windbreaker and now this, but this actually looks better than anything they’ve done imo.
First 12 minutes of the episode totally lull you into thinking it’s gonna be a peaceful slice of life anime about a prince who likes to slag off his training, only to seamlessly transition, thru the use of the ball hitting the ground turning into a decapitated head, into the reality of the era. This period in Japanese history was filled with bloodshed, war, betrayals and stuff that would make George RR Martin’s novels look like Disney colouring books and they nailed that here.
The bloodshed, the fall of the Hojo clan and their territory, it all feels so sudden and you’re as broken as Tokiyuki is by the end of it. Everything’s going so well, you get the prophecy from the sage and boom, your world is flipped upside down. Brilliant use of direction to evoke empathy from the audience for the MC. Almost a Ghost of Tsushima style start to this.
The animation during the scene of Suwa pushing Tokiyuki off the cliff and him running thru the crowd of warriors was astounding.. this really is one of the best looking shows this year and one of the best premieres as well. After the success of Shogun I’m very much down for more stuff in this era of Japanese history and can’t wait to see how Tokiyuki gets his revenge.
#the elusive samurai#elusive samurai#nige jouzu no wakagimi#nigewaka#animanga hive#animanga#animangahive
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My and my 2 straight friends are doing a watch party for the spooky season. We try to find some movies generally unheard of, doesn't mean they are always good tho. I wondered if you had any idea to spice up 3 gamer's night, and maybe more. And I think this is deserving of a trick.
So, I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that, unless something changes soon, no one is going to go to your watch party. You and your two friends you planned it with, Liam and Tyler, are the only three who show up, and the party will be a complete flop. It’s not as bad as it sounds though. You three have a great night, watching bad movies, playing video games, making inside jokes and eating junk food and candy. It was a little embarrassing that no one else came, but all in all it wasn’t a bad night.
The good news is that it’s not too late. Your night doesn’t have to be just ‘not a bad night.’ You asked for something to spice up the night, and I’m going to give it to you.
I did a little research into you and your friends before I sent this out. No offense, but you guys are kind of movie snobs. It’s not unexpected that you’re intense about movies, given that you’re all film students, it’s just that you take it a bit too far. You guys don’t mean to, but you tend to pick apart and criticize movies people like until you take all the fun out of it, only to then rave about bad movies because to you they were so bad it was hilarious. That's the main reason everyone skipped out on your watch party, because they knew you’d pick unusual, and sometimes bad, movies. So the best way to fix your problem? If your movie choices are driving people away, put on something else! I know it sounds awful to you. Putting on something else to bring people in means putting on some dumb, overplayed mainstream movie you’d have to suffer through the entire night. Watching some overhyped dumb cash grab just to make your watch part more popular doesn’t just sound shallow, it sounds unbearable. But you’re going to have to trust me on this. This movie isn’t popular, it’s not that good, and it will change your life. ‘Brad, Chad, and Vlad’ Isn’t a movie most people have heard of. No one in your school's film department will probably have heard anything about it. It’s an 80’s Halloween comedy about two frat boys, Brad and Chad, who accidentally awaken a vampire, Vlad, and end up getting into a bunch of college shenanigans with the ancient bloodsucker. There’s even a classic 80’s makeover scene where the vampire gets a frat boy makeover. As you, Liam and Tyler watch the movie, just to check it out before the party, you can help but laugh at how cheesy the whole thing is! It’s like if a frat boy tried to make a scary movie, and somehow hit comedy gold. As the movie continues, you start to find some of this stuff… honestly funny. The part where Vlad uses his powers to scare a bunch of nerds made you and your friends laugh loudly, and the storyline about Brad and Chad almost getting kicked off the football team was strangely… relatable? You actually felt for the two dumb jocks, and cheered as they beat the nerdy chemistry club slash dark magic cult and freed Vlad from his curse. As the three friends, now all able to be together in the sunlight, flex their muscles cockily for their sorority girl love interest, you and your bros Lee and Ty couldn’t help but flex too, celebrating the movie's end with your solid meaty muscles shining in the light of the TV.
You and your best bros had fucking loved the movie, and you knew the rest of the frat would love to see it. You had found the perfect movie for the party, which was great considering the 3 of you knew nothing about movies. The three bisexual sports majors barely knew how to take a good enough video for their shared OnlyFans. Not that it mattered. People didn’t pay to watch you three fuck for the camera quality.
#muscle growth tf#muscle tf#jock tf#jock transformation#jockification#nerd to jock#gay to bi#straight to bi#trick or treat tf
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Pest Control 141
Taskforcexfemalereader
You were ready for anything—armed combat, hostile extractions, stealth missions. But what Ghost just called you for? Well, it wasn’t in the job description.
“Oi, get to the common area,” Ghost’s voice crackled through your comms. “We’ve got a... situation.”
You rush in, ready to face some unknown terror. Turns out, the "situation" is an eight-legged monstrosity clinging to the wall, looking like it’s planning world domination. Ghost is standing in the corner, arms crossed, keeping a good six-foot distance between him and the spider.
“You serious?” you say, trying not to laugh. “Ghost, the guy who can take down a platoon single-handed, is afraid of a little spider?”
“It’s not little. Look at the size of it!” Ghost says, nodding toward the creature. It’s huge. You’ll give him that. But still, the irony is too rich to ignore.
“Fine,” you sigh, grabbing a broom like a true warrior. “I’ll take care of it. Stay back, tough guy.”
You inch closer, broom in hand, ready for the mission. Ghost watches closely, clearly not trusting the spider to stay put. With the grace of a seasoned soldier, you raise the broom and swipe—only to miss entirely. Instead of falling to the floor, the spider launches itself… straight onto Ghost’s chest.
The next few seconds are pure chaos.
Ghost lets out a noise you’d never expect from him—half a growl, half a yelp. His hands flail as he tries to bat the spider away, but it’s too late. The thing is clinging to him like a special ops agent on a stealth mission.
“Get it off! Get it off me!” Ghost shouts, running around like he’s under enemy fire.
“Hold still!” you yell, trying to catch up to him with the broom.
“Hold still?!” Ghost snaps, dodging your first broom swing as you chase him around the room like a scene from a slapstick comedy.
In the middle of the commotion, Soap walks in, immediately bursting into laughter. “What the hell is going on in here?”
You barely glance at him, still in hot pursuit of Ghost. “Spider. On Ghost. Stand clear!”
“On Ghost?” Soap is doubled over now, laughing so hard he’s struggling to breathe.
Ghost is still running in circles, arms flailing. “For the love of—just hit it already!”
You aim another swing at Ghost’s chest, but he dodges, and the broom whacks him in the shoulder instead.
“That’s me, you bloody idiot!” he shouts.
“Stop moving, and I’ll hit the spider, not you!”
In one desperate move, Ghost trips over the couch, falls backward, and lands flat on the floor, the spider still crawling around like it owns him.
“Now’s your chance!” Soap shouts, cheering you on like it’s a championship match.
You raise the broom like a gladiator about to strike the final blow and bring it down. This time, you hit the target. The spider goes flying across the room, landing on the window with a satisfying *splat*.
Ghost lies on the floor, panting. “You hit me at least three times, you know that?”
“Yeah, but I got the spider, didn’t I?” you grin, offering a hand to help him up.
He swats it away, muttering, “I’d rather face a whole squad of enemies than deal with that thing again.”
Soap is practically on the floor laughing at this point, tears streaming down his face. “Oh, mate, this is the best day of my life. Ghost, scared of a little spider!”
Ghost pulls himself up, glaring at you both. “Say one more word about this, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Soap wipes a tear away. “Noted. But I’m definitely telling Price.”
You shake your head, trying to contain your laughter as Ghost storms out. Mission accomplished, but you’ll never let him live this one down.
#ghost call of duty#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#cod ghost#call of duty#modern warfare#modern warfare 2#ghost x y/n#ghost x reader#task force 141#task force x reader#simonghost#simonghostriley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost simon riley#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x oc#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x female oc#simon ghost riley x johnny soap mactavish#simon ghost riley x female reader#simonghostrileyheadcannons#soapghost#john soap mactavish#ghost x soap
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My Dragon Prince Boards season 7, episode 702
The time has finally come for me to talk about my boards for the last season of the Dragon Prince! Wow, time flies!
To be honest season 7 was such a hard season to make. Telling a good story is always a challenge, but ending one, oof! that is an herculean job!
I remeber everyone being super stressed during the production of this season, because time was always in short supply, and it is really hard to produce great art with little time, haha.
Also, I think that after a year and a half working non stop doing boards for the show, most of us where starting to feel exhausted, and you can see it on my boards, they are much less polished than usual.
But, no matter the context and circumstances, we always try to deliver the best we can and tell the ending of this arc in the most satisfactory way possible.
Lets start with my sequences. First one is the one with Ezran's council in the Banther Lodge.
This one starts with the little exchange between Soren and Corvus, I really like these two. I think they grew on me as a duo during my time in the show. Soren was already one of my favorites, but by the end of season 7, Corvus and Soren was a top pair for me, too.
I think that, whatever you think their relationship is, physical touch is a thing between this two, they are always touching each other, there is some vulnerability that they allow with each other that is endearing.
If you read my comments about my boards in season 6, one of the things I was talking about is how sometimes the expressions we draw in boards don't translate that well to the final animation (This happens in a lot of shows, and it's because of limitation on the face rig of the characters, nothing related to the talent of our crew, because they are all super talented) This little shot is another case, I wanted Callum to feel like "Oh boy, shit is hitting the fan!"
I think this scene is mostly about the conflict between points of view, Callum and Rayla wanting for Ezran to free (and forgive) Runaan as soon as possible, while Ezran is struggling with his emotions. It's a hard one.
To be honest I understand Ezran 100% and I know that the right thing for him would be eventually to forgive Runaan, but is not something that could happen inmediatly. Grieve and angry are feelings that can get poisonus really easily, and they need time to heal and allow perspective.
I think Ralyla made the wrong choice bringing Runaan to Katolis.
Anyway, I wanted to play this sequence (and the next one) a little as a power play between the brothers. There are two forces pulling Callum rigth now, and the tension is growing because of it. I like this shot, I think, is cool.
My next sequence is the continuation of the Banther Lodge Council scene. Rayla is out of the building right now, and Callum is deeply distracted.
But we start with a little coment of comedy with Soren "testing" the bread. This shot ended flipped, but the idea is still the same, I am glad the keept the moment of Soren putting the bread on his mouth, haha.
Again this scene mix two trains of though or conflicts together, in one hand you have Ezran trying to figure out how to lead his people in a way that makes sure a tragedy like the burning of Katolis doesn't happen again. And in the other hand the struggle between Callum loyalties, and his inhability to be what Ezran needs him to be right now.
This is not hate to Callum, I think that his desicions are pretty ok taking in consideration that is he still a teeneager. But I feel that he gets tunnel vision when things are related to Rayla, and he failed miserably as a brother and member of the council during this time.
While I think Callum is right, Ezran should forgive Runaan, he should be there to provide love and support to his brother, and advice and perspective to his king. Space for Ezran to come to the conclusion that forgivenes is the right path.
Anyway, I had this gesture boarded with Ezran hitting the air, but they ended adding the cup there for him to toss. I don't know how I feel about it, It's fine (specially if you talke into consideration that the Anya pick up the cup and give it back to Ezran) but feels a little off to me. Not sure why, tho.
I like Anya and Ezran relationship. I think I would appreciate it if she also took the place that Callum was failing to fulfill and gave some space to Ezran to grieve and process his sadness in a more intimate level. Like as friends more than as "heads of state". But anyway, she is cool, I am glad Ezran had someone as his side during this time.
I remember that one of the instructions I got for this sequence was to make sure that Ezran feels like a mob boss. Hahaha. Funny, tho. But besides that, I think that something that I was glad to see and board was Ezran taking more action and having more agency.
Maybe we can disagree with his point of view, but it was great to finally see him taking the reins of the kingdom, being active and assertive with his actions.
My last two sequences in this episode were the talk of Callum and Ezran close to the fireplace. I think this was an instance of Callum trying to be Ezran brother, giving him support and love and helping him to see the erron of his ways.
BUT, and this is a big but, I feel that all of this feels empty and, from Ezran point of view, manipulative; because after this talk Callum right away decides not only to "betray" Ezran but also to leave him alone. And that was not pretty wise of him, imo.
It is always a pleasure to draw any character making a suspicious face, hahaha "I don't trust you":
I think during the first part of the talk, the sibilings are on pretty opposite sides, there is a rift between them, and it is hard to close. But then there is more space for vulnerability and trust.
I think a really significant momen is for Ezran to remove his crown. "I am not talking as the king, but as your brother" kind of moment. Humanizes him a lot and shows the sincerity of his words.
He is confesing here, how he is tired, how this dury felt on his shoulders even when he was not ready for it, and how much he is trying to carry the burden, but oh boy, how heavy is the crown!
And I feel that this is the part when Callum made a mistake. Instead of listen to him, to recognize his pain, to offer his aid and support, some kind of "you don't need to do this alone" kind of thing, he brings the topic back to Runaan.
And then he shots the shot: "You forgave Zubeia" And ouch! I mean, he is right, that is something that Ezran did, but I don't think this is the moment to bring it. But again, the conflict here is that none of them can see the other right now. Callum is too worried about Rayla and Runaan, and Ezran is too hurt and overwheelmed.
And I wanted to make the shift clear, so Callum literally points fingers at Ezran. He demands action, he expect his brother to do what he wants him to do, not what Ezran needs to do. In an ideal world there would be a trial for Runaan, one where we can hear both parties, where Ezran can express his feelings his doubts and grieve, that could end in him finding forgivenes in his heart.
But it is not an ideal world. Things are falling apart, and the struggles between the needs and wants of characters are in conflict. So, people make bad decisions. That is good writing if you ask me.
Then Zym intervines, he wants Ezran to forgive Runaan, not for the same reasons than Callum, tho.
I think in Zym's mind is more an attempt to get "the old Ezran back". So Callum and Zym try to make their point together. I wanted to paint it as if Zym has this naive approach to the stituation, while Callum is a little more manipulative (I don't think that on porpouse) being like "look, even Zym agrees" failing to see why Zym is agreeing. I think the sin of Callum in all this episode is blindness (or tunel vision as we said before)
And kinda works. Not because Ezran is ready to forgive, but because I feel that there is something inside Ezran that thinks like Zym too. That maybe there is a way to go back to be like he was before.
And that is the thing, pain and grieve change you, and accept that change is part of growing up. Aaravos talk about that a lot this season. So there is a little truce, a moment of "maybe" from Ezran. I really like to draw this two together.
Sadly this moment gets interrupted by Soren asking for help. And from here is downhill. I think Callum's actions after this point did not help at all to Ezran to heal or change his mind.
The fact that Callum decided to leave probably made Ezran wound worst, and any hope that this conversation could bring for the brothes to get back together gets shattered.
Great setting up of their conflict for this season, imo.
Well that was my work for 702. Thanks for reading this brickwall of text! Hope you like this! And feel free to ask if you have questions about the storyboard process!
See you for 705 boards soon!
#the dragon prince#dragon prince crew#storyboards#dragon prince spoilers#mjbarros#the dragon prince season 7
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