#secret fuckin sauce that they put in these two
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I know it was unexpected for plenty of people but I LOVE the implication that in S3 willow is the one rocking a tough, practical jacket and hunter is the one in the cozy nerd sweater. Especially in the context of how they've always viewed each other?
Willow has always been the "leather jacket-wearing bad-boy with a heart of gold" in hunters eyes when you think about it. She's strong, plays a flashy contact sport that's essentially fantasy-roller derby, stands up to authority and fights for a cause, all the while being sweet and silly and sensitive and secretly insecure but healing from something traumatic that happened to her.
And on the flip side, willow didn't meet Hunter when he was the golden guard, she met him when he was pretending to be a normal kid. He was weird and awkward and overzealous and stand offish. His best friend is a bird and his name is Caleb Jasper Bloodwilliams. BUT as the day goes on he makes friends, acts dorky and encouraging, does something really weird and messed up but (most important to willow) demonstrates that he can mend the mistakes he makes. He's soooo the sheltered "good" girl learning to come out of her shell and willow is the risk taking beefcake who shows him the world. It's disgusting and I love it
#the owl house#hunter toh#willow park#huntlow#hi yeah sorry to shippost on main but i couldn't rest til i articulated this thought#like it's perfectly reasonable that eveyone assumed their aesthetics would lean opposite. but this idea makes so much sense and is-#-so funny#obviously this is slightly hyperbolic analysis and is mostly here for comedic purposes but i stand by the central thesis#which is that huntlow flips one of the most famous het romance tropes in a way that is soooo fuckin cute and charming i love it#this is what i mean when i call them bi4bi t4t#again i also love love edgy hunter and cottagecore willow. but those do feel more tied to their s2A characters than who they probably are-#-by the time Thanks to Them roles around#anyway yeah huntlow makes me stupid insane to think abt abdidbfk#secret fuckin sauce that they put in these two
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for some reason, your enemy, yandere! katsuki bakugo, is oddly possessive over you
lowkey yandere! reader. smut. fem!reader. regular au. enemies (with benefits) to lovers. virgin! reader mentioned. jealous! bakugo. lowkey! angst the highkey! fluff.
warnings: nsfw, mentions of virginity being taken by katsuki, public sex stuff, tit fucking, degrading, free use, oral (fem receiving), rough fucking, choking, masochism??
a/n: should i start doing more drabbles & headcannons or do you guys like the long fics?
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katsuki loves seeing you angry.
it's such a strict contrast, really. you're usually calm, put together, level-headed with a hint of dark humor & sarcasm. you seemed like you had unweavering patience when it came to the daily annoyances from stubbing your toe to helping a student that couldn't seem to grasp a subject, no matter how many times you tried explaining it.
the only person who could get under your skin was a certain, arrogant classmate who always had something to say. he would never say anything absurdly rude, but it would always get on your nerves. "the back of your shirt isn't tucked in, dumbass." "your lip gloss color is too bright on you, fuckin' idiot." "there's an easier way to do that, stupid."
maybe it was the tone he gave you-- condescending. maybe it was the way he was so predictable, always following up with a coy smirk. you didn't know why he was the only one to irk you, but you do know one thing, you hate him.
& he hates you.
yet for some reason, you two know more about each other than anyone else. you know how much katsuki hates sweet things, so you'll dump half a bottle of that cheap teriyaki sauce that tastes like artificial sweetener into his spicy ramen when he's cooking. he knows how you have your backpack organized, so he'll purposefully put things into the wrong place just to annoy you.
you two were obvious rivals in almost all aspects of life, & yet the two of you are attached by the hip. he was always in your dorm room while you did your homework, blowing on your ear or messing with stuff he knows he's not supposed to. you would find yourself in the gym with him late at night, sitting on the floor as you watched him to an exercise you didn't wanna do.
your friends would always ask about him, which was another way he would get on your nerves. even when he's not there, his name would get thrown around. "so, (y/n), when are you & bakugo gonna make it official," snickered jiro.
"yeah! we wanna know," momo chimed in. you've had this conversation with anyone who knew you & bakugo, & your answer was always the same.
"NEVER!"
the funny thing about "never" is that it means you, at no time in the future or in the past or on any occasion, would ever, ever even glance at bakugo with any sort of care or attraction. "never" means the only look you'd throw his way is a glare.
yet, there you were, under him, contradicting "never." this arrangement -secret rendezvous & lustful activities- happened a few weeks ago, you remember it so vividly. it was a late night, & you & bakugo were dead tired after training (aka fighting non-stop) with each other for hours followed by studying at his dorm. the two of you weren't done until late, so you told him that you were going to stay in his dorm whether he liked it or not.
another snarky argument ensued, which mellowed into vulnerable confessions. you told him you've never had a partner because you've never had any intimate experience before, so how would you even cope? that night, you lost your virginity to your enemy, & it was so addictive.
after that, your guys' dynamic didn't change outwardly. if people paid attentions a bit more, they would've seen the two of you holding pinkies during lunch. he would sit a tad bit closer in class. it's a good thing you've been wearing your hair down because your neck was covered in hickies.
today, katsuki was even more annoying than he has been the last year. something was coursing through his veins. he was so much more daring, so much more of a bully today.
it started when you woke up in his bed, naked after a night of taboo touches. even last night, he was different, something on his mind. groggily, katsuki shot you a lazy smirk. his fingertips ghosted over your exposed skin while you laid on his bare chest. goosebumps followed in his fingers' wake. you laid there for a moment longer then said, "we should probably get ready for school."
"hm.."
"what?"
"i just need something taken care of, (y/n)," said katsuki, voice deep. you felt him against your thigh that was draped across his hips.
"k-katsuki, we-we can't," you blushed. your protests went unanswered as he started to mark your neck. his love bites trailed around your neck, down to your collarbone.
"shhh, just relax," katsuki whispered as he groped your tits. as quickly as he removed his hand, it was replaced by his mouth, suckling on your nipple; his fingers pinched the other. his free hand dove between your legs.
"katsuki!" you gasped, pussy still sore from last night. you couldn't help but grind your clit against his palm while his fingers were knuckle-deep and pressing against your g-spot. "go-gonna cum," you moaned out, & it was like a switch flipped inside of katsuki.
he pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt. climbing atop of you, katsuki sneered"didn't i tell you quiet?" he shoved his fingers coated in your juices down your throat, making you gargle in surprise.
his heavy cock laid between your hickey-covered tits. "press your tits together," he commanded. you must've given him a confused look because he instructed sternly, "use your hand & fuckin' press your tits around my cock, nerd." oh god, how he made you so mad. you couldn't even tell him off.
that morning, he finished all over your face & tits. he smacked your cheek a couple of times with his semi-hard cock before getting off of your body to get a towel for you.
the two of you sat in aizawa's class, next to each other, like you didn't have to wash katsuki's cum out of your hair just before school started. what was embarrassing was that your friends (bless their sweet, sweet souls) complimented you, which wasn't out of the norm. however, they were gushing about how your skin was absolutely glowing.
katsuki, knowingly, shot you look of pride. he is truly the worst.
the next period came & went, & then you were stuck in another class with katsuki. your teacher decided that they were sick & tired of the regular routine, so they led the class to the library. they essentially said, "run wild, don't leave the library, & leave me to my own devices."
it's not like you were complaining; you've been wanted to pick up a new book to read so you browsed the aisles. were you also avoiding katsuki? a bit. today, especially, he was just too much. his unfortunately well-placed cockiness & his eagerness to get his hands all over you was a deadly combination.
as your eyes darted from the selection of books, the one you wanted just so happened to be on the top shelf. it wasn't unreachable to you, but it was an inconvenience. you creased your shoes as you went on the tips of your toes, trying to get a grasp of the book when a larger, familiar hand gripped yours. standing behind was katsuki, towering over you. out of instinct, you retracted your hand away, & he grabbed the book
you were about to say thank you when he placed it on top of the shelf. you could barely even see it, so there way no way you were going to be able to reach it. "i want to read that," you deadpanned, trying to turn around but katsuki's hands were on your shoulders. "h-hey, you're not doing what..." your voice trailed off.
his hands glided down your shoulders, caressing the curve of your figure, then stopped at the hem of your skirt. "are you crazy?!" you whisper-shouted at the blonde, to which he just scoffed.
he unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, & all you heard was rustling of fabric. he flipped your skirt up, covering his erect cock with it. sandwiched between your thick ass, he started to grind against you. "then stop me," katsuki whispered into your ear. he brushed your hair away from your neck & blew on your sensitive bruises forming on your skin. "just don't be too loud~ you don't wanna get in trouble, do you?" he snickered, pushing your panties to the side. katsuki shoved his girthy cock inside of your hole, stretching your already-aching walls.
you slapped your hands over your mouth to muffle your gasp. you could hear students, your classmates, talk all around the library. sure, you were tucked away on the second floor in a quiet corner, but you were still in public.
he started rutting his hips against you, shallow & uneven. he was testing the waters to see how far you'd let him go. with the fear of getting caught & utter adrenaline pumping through you, you tried to push away katsuki. his response was to pin your hands against the book shelf & pound your dripping pussy. soft smacks were only heard by you two, no one else close enough to hear the huffs & the mewls.
they say keep your friends close, & your enemies closer, & maybe you've taken that to heart. now, katsuki, your sworn enemy, knows your body inside & out. he knows how much you love being manhandled, which is why he made you arch your back as held your arms above your head while he thrusted in & out of you.
your pussy twitches, as it does every time when you're about to lose yourself in the pleasure, & katsuki knows this too. you were chasing your high, your eyes lulled to the back of your head when, suddenly, he pulled out. "k-katsuki!" you groaned in annoyance & shock. he was a selfish person with the stamina of a sex god. you'd usually cum several times all over his cock before he'd ejaculate inside you.
he flashed you his signature smirk as he wiped his dick with your navy blue skirt. he zipped his pants back up & redid his belt. with a shrug, he sauntered away, & you were left with a knot in your stomach, ratty hair, & frustration bubbling inside of you.
you were not going to entertain whatever sick fantasy he was trying to fulfill. you avoided him the best you could, however the two of you shared pretty much every class together. purposefully, you'd be the last one to class so you wouldn't have to sit beside katsuki. it always landed you in the front of the class, & you could feel his gaze burning holes in the back of your head, but it didn't matter. distance is what he deserved.
you were so mad at him that you didn't even want to look his way, you didn't want to be in his general vicinity.
the moment you saw him notice you, you would walk away from him. your plan was working to your favor until the evening. katsuki & you had very similar day-to-day routines. because you were always stealing portions of katsuki's food in the evening, your stomach began to grumble like clockwork. however, the moment you go downstairs, you would have to confront katsuki.
between the hunger you felt & your distain for the blonde, your hunger felt insatiable-- unfortunately for you. it was hard to ignore because you, while trying to avoid katsuki, skipped your regular meals. all you have in your room is an empty mini fridge, a water dispenser, & a couple of snacks that won't do anything but upset your stomach.
"ughhh," you let out a groan, getting out of the comfort of your bed. you slipped on a pair of pj pants over your spandex shorts & house slippers, prepared to tell katsuki off while stuffing your face with the food he's cooked.
knock. knock.
you jumped, almost letting out a shocked gasp. "oi! open up, stupid!" it was katsuki on the other side of your dorm door. you held your breath... maybe he hasn't heard you yet? "i know you're in there!"
"goddamn it, katsuki! go away," you shouted back as you walked towards your door. you looked through your peephole, only to see an agitated katsuki holding onto something.
"would you stop being a fuckin' child & open the door?"
"no, you're the childish one! get out of here, & go suck midoriya's dick!" just as katsuki can effortlessly get under your skin, you can do the same with him.
he punched your door, which sent vibrations around the door & frame. "you're such a fuckin' kid, (y/n)! i know this is 'cuz i didn't let you cum all over my co-"
abrasive, you threw open your door & dragged the loud-mouth into your room. your hand threw itself over his mouth as you seethed, "would you shut your damn mouth, people can hear you." under your hand, he smirked & kissed the palm of your hand. you tried to pull away with an embarrassed blush, but he gripped your wrist to keep you in place.
he kept leaving butterfly kissed on your palm, maintaining eye contact with you. each gentle kiss shot tinges of pleasure through your nerves. "wh-what are you doing?"
"you're so sensitive, y'know," he responded, kissing up your arm while pulling your closer to him. since when was katsuki this affectionate? your eyes glossed over slightly as he trailed kissed up your arm. sighs of content escaped your plush lips when he started to kiss your collarbone. something brushed against your leg, & that's when you noticed him holding something.
"wh-what is that?" you asked, dragging your nails down his arm that was gripping it. goosebumps appeared all over his arm, & he tensed up.
he cleared his throat. he pulled away from you, &, if you didn't know any better, it seemed as though he were nervous. "it's the reason i'm here in the first place," he grumbled, avoiding eye contact. it was a box wrapped in an all-might cloth.
"oh, you mean you're not just here to torment me & use me," you shot back. you were still so, so angry with him.
he looked at you, eyes wide. "what the hell are you goin' on about, woman?"
you were about to tell him off, all your pent-up frustration about to spill out of your throat when you were cut off by a distinct grumble-- your stomach. katsuki scoffed, but it was clear what you said played over & over in his mind. "it doesn't matter right now, just eat." he shoved the cloth into your hand & sat on your bed; you followed in suit.
unwrapping it by pulling the knot, it came undone to reveal two dark wood bento boxes, two pairs of chopsticks, & two spoons. he took the utensils off the top to place them on the fabric & opened the top bento to give to you. decorated beautifully (& almost intimately) was a homemade bento with onigiri shaped in the traditional triangle along with your favorite protein with pieces of bell peppers, carrots, & other veggies cut into the shapes of hearts & stars. your rice ball had a cute cat face made out of seaweed. you bursted out in laughter, "wh-what is all this!?"
"shut up, asshole!" face flushed, katsuki yelled. "i fuckin' care about you or whatever." your laughter died down, taking in the words he was saying. "when you didn't eat lunch or come train with me or go get a pastry at that one god-awful cafe, i knew i pushed you too far."
"you think?" you retorted as your tapped the tips of your chopsticks against the bento. he took his & took off the lid to reveal his: scraps. it was enough to make him full, but it wasn't as pretty as yours. it was all just thrown in there without a care. the middle of his carrots & bell peppers had heart-shaped holes cut out of them. while your sauce was in a small container to avoid your food getting soggy, his was tossed in there, coating everything. his onigiri was just a ball with the classic seaweed strip.
"learn to shut up for once, will ya?! god, i made you food, so could you just sit there & look pretty & just listen?"
"fine, say what you wanna say," you huffed, taking a bite out of your food.
"listen, (y/n)," he started, "i know i'm harsh & not the best, & i get why you hate me, but i'm not trying to use you. yeah, i like that you & i do the nastiest shit together, but i also like just... walking around with you. you might think that it's just 'cuz i wanna get in your pants, but i couldn't care less about that shit. i don't know, i'm just, i'm sorry, alright?" this rant was so uncharacteristically not him but him at the same time. he was vulgar, yet vulnerable. he apologized.
"katsuki..."
"& i was just messin' with you 'cuz damn raccoon eyes told me that dunceface was gonna ask you out. i know that we're just doing stuff so you'll feel more confident in, i don't know, fucking, but i don't want you with anyone else. i messed up, i know. i just... d'know, i just want you to yearn for me as much as i need you."
"katsuki," you called out. "c-can i admit something to you?"
"what is it?"
"i really like you." a suddenly quiet ensued. katsuki, the guy who always had a snappy comeback, was speechless, & it made your throat tighten.
"(y/n), seriously, don't mess with me-"
"i'm not!" you yelled, but you weren't upset. "the reason i was so mad at you was because i felt used... i don't like feeling like that, especially since i really, really like you. all the stuff we do together let's me be delusional & pretend we're dating. & it's hard to stop because you're just so... doting in your own way. but then today, you didn't wanna make me, you know, so i just thought-"
"we'll that's what you get for thinking," katsuki teased, placing his & your finished bento on your desk. he sat close beside you; if you were to turn your head, your lips would've been centimeters away from his. it's not like you guys haven't kissed before, but this time was different. it felt like the first time all over again.
"(y/n), look at me," he whispered into your ear. you shifted in your spot, but you did as you were told. facing him, you backed your head up, only for it to be stopped by your headboard. "i'm so sorry, angel. let me make it up to you."
"katsuki, i-it's okay-" you were cut off.
he hushed you, eyes half-lidded & clouded with lust. "you'd think by now you'd learn your lesson about shuttin' up, huh?" he said as his hands slid under your shirt, up your torso. you raised your arms, allowing him to take off your shirt. under his breath, he whispered, "fuck."
katsuki climbed in between your legs, looming over your figure. he kissed the valley between your breasts while his arm snaked around your body. with one hand, he unclasped your bra. you threw it onto your dorm floor, & he wasted no time to latch onto your tit. he swirled your perky nipple around his tongue. you squirmed under him, your pants, shorts, & panties joined your bra
to take a moment to breathe, katsuki pulled back, & you, as eager & as horny as ever, ripped off his shirt. "woah, someone's impatient."
"you piss me off, let me have this," you snarled back, a possessive tone in your voice. katsuki made a note to himself: edge you as much as humanly possible. you pulled him close to you. sure, you crushed your face against his chest when you did so, but you didn't care. you started to nip at his exposed skin. hickeys crawled up his chest, decorating his collarbone & creeping onto his neck.
"sh-shit, angel," he breathed out. against your thigh, you felt his clothed dick twitch with every bite. he pushed you away from his bruised skin with a gentleness, his tongue trailing down his body. & just like that, he was the dominate one again.
katsuki, spreading your legs wide for him, placed your legs on his shoulders. your thighs could crush his skull if you so pleased. "you're dripping, (y/n)~" he snickered, followed by a long, slow lick against your slit. you gasped out in shock, back arching out of instinct.
"m-more," you whined. he chuckled that sinister chuckle he always does when he's about to say the most annoying shit ever.
"ask nicely."
"katsuki," you said in a stern voice. you didn't want him at that moment, no, no, no. you needed him. you needed him to make you cum; you needed his stupidly talented tongue on your pussy. you needed to be destroyed by his dumb, heavy cock. "i'm not playing around."
"i'm not either, (y/n). just swallow your damn pride & ask like a good girl, hm?" he replied as he spread your pussy lips apart with his thumbs, blowing cool air on your clit. you two bantered the way you usually do, as though he weren't in between your legs, mouth ghosting against your weeping hole.
you knew he wasn't going to let up, so you swallowed thickly. "k-katsuki?"
"yes?"
"pl-please eat me out," you begged. you looked at him with faux tears welling in your bright, doe eyes.
"how could i say no when you look at me like that, sweet girl," exasperated katsuki, acting like he was doing you a favor when, in reality, he was a selfish man. he loved eating you out, he loved watching you wraith in pleasure, hand clasped over your mouth as cute, little moans escaped your quivering lips. if anything, it got him rock hard & throbbing.
it started out with kisses against your clit, like it always does. soon, the kisses turned into licks & sucks. your hands found themselves entangled in his unruly, platinum hair, & your hips bucked forward. you rubbed your clit against him. one hand started to tease your entrance while he flicked your clit with his tongue. your juices with his drool made it easy to slide his middle & ring finger inside of you.
as if you were holding in a breath, you exhaled in relief. his fingers pumped in & out of you while his tongue circled your bud. the all-to-familiar knot began to form in your stomach. "g-gunna cum!" you whisper-shouted, back still arched & head thrown back. for a second, your vision turned white as you creamed all over katsuki's face. he lapped your juices up like it was an elixir given to him by the gods. overstimulated, you thought he would pull away after cleaning you, but he relented.
that's what you get for thinking.
"hey, wh-what are you doing?" you gasped out as you propped yourself up with your elbows. this time, instead of attacking your clit, his tongue jetted in & out of your hole. he didn't say anything, only looking up at you with his ruby red eyes. you found yourself bucking your hips onto his face once more, finding pleasure in the friction. every time you would look away, he would slow down or stop completely. you came, then came, then came again.
after the fourth time, he finally stopped. you took a deep breath, your frustrations wiped away. "f-fine, you win. y-you made it u-up to me," you stuttered out as you tried to steady your heart rate. your eyes were closed, & your chest heaved with every breath you took.
"why do you look so comfortable? we're not done yet, angel," katsuki growled, & that's when you felt it; his tip running up & down your folds. your eyes snapped open, & your jaw dropped. he eased inside of your pussy, which sucked him in eagerly. you felt full, stretched, yet he was only half way in. he snapped his hips forward, covering your mouth because, every time he does that, you'll let out a droned-out moan.
the fact that he's made you lose your unwavering, cool composure made him feral. you're dripping wet all because of him. you were sucking him in so good. his eyes were trained on your gorgeous face, your eyes were half-lidded, tearing up. whimpers muffled by his large hand made his cock twitch inside you. the way your body looked as you took him in full was the reason he can't let anyone else have you. honestly & truly, you made him crazy.
he showed this in this thrusts. they were harsh, tip slamming against your cervix. as he pumped in & out of your pussy, he uncovered your mouth, his hand travelled down to your neck. with a firm grip, he cut off your airway. your tongue hung out of your mouth as you panted like a bitch in heat. fast & hard, your body jerked forward with each one of his rough thrusts.
choked out mewls escaped your lips, & your eyes rolled to the back of your head. you were about to pass out when he released your throat. you gasped. with every exhale, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning out his name. "k-katsuki~ k-kat-m~"
"such a good fuck," growled katsuki. he draped your legs over his shoulders. the blonde, smirking viciously, loomed over you, leaning forward. your knees were against your bare chest, you feet passed your head. you were folded in half, powerless. all you could do is squirm, cry out his name, & let him pound the shit out of your pretty pussy.
he held himself over you with one hand. his other cupped your face. he squished your cheeks together so your lips would pucker. "you're such a fuckin' pretty asshole," he chuckled. "you know how many guys wanna piece of you? none of 'em get t' have you though, that's all my privilege," katsuki gloated, his voice sounded muffled yet so clear. you tried responding but all that came out were lewd moans
he let go of your face as his thrusts started to become erratic. his grunts were animalistic, the sound of skin slapping skin echoed off the thin walls. possessively, he growled sweet nothings into your ear, & you had to bite back your screams of pleasure. at this point, you felt so good that you couldn't even begin to care about who might find out. hell, even if someone told aizawa that the two of you were breaking rules, you would tell him to scold you the next day.
"c-cum," you rasped, your legs sore from being folded. you squirmed under him to find some comfort for your legs. you tried pushing him away, yet you still chased your high. was the pain turning you on? there's no way.
"tch, cum, you fuckin' brat," commanded katsuki, & it was clear he wouldn't let you change positions until you creamed all over his thick cock.
"c-cumming!" your legs shook as your walls spasmed around katsuki. you heard him curse under his breath, his dick twitched inside you.
"gon-gonna fill you up, 'k?" he told you, all you could do is weakly nod. for a moment, he didn't care about your pleasure. he had one mission, & that was to use you so he could cum. he was treating you like a toy. your legs fell near his hips, but you couldn't find the strength to wrap your legs around him. gripping your hips, he moved you up & down his dick like you were a fleshlight.
"you're such a naughty girl, (y/n)~ everyone's gon' know that y'er all mine," he told your through gritted teeth. he didn't wait for a response, groaning loudly. "take it, fuckin' take it, baby," he said as he slammed his cock inside of you before his thrusts became needy, shallow. hot ropes of his cum painted the walls of your pussy. with the entirety of his cock inside you, his cum seeped out of you, dripping onto your duvet.
you felt your heartbeat in your core, & you struggled to catch your breath. he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, it was so unlike him. since when has anyone described katsuki bakugo as gentle? yet here he was, tending to you, cleaning you up & giving you soft kisses on your plush lips. "you okay, babe?" he questioned, just a hint of snarky pride behind his tone.
"y-yeah," you stuttered out, stretching your your legs. they quivered with every movement, & your face was flushed with embarrassment. he scooped you up with one arm while the other swiped the duvet off your bed. he tossed it in your dirty laundry hamper. your arms were around his neck as you cuddled into his bare chest when you told him, "you were just rough is all."
he laid the two of you down, covering you with your fluffy, (what you dubbed) "emergency" blanket. he started to scratch your head, & your eyes felt droopy. "i'm sorry, sweet girl. was i too rough?"
"no," you sighed with a smile. "i can handle it."
"yeah, i'm sure you can."
"i can! i just proved it to you!" you retorted, your eyes closing.
"whatever."
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Joel Miller x Reader- After The End Of The World
Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Female reader
Episode 2 spoilers ahead!
The supplies would run out soon, and you were no closer to Wyoming than you’d all been the hours before.
You’d spent most of the afternoon driving in loops looking for ways out- the roads had been blocked through with cars, and keeping away from cities was only wise. Finally, late in the evening, Joel had called it a night- no sense driving around in the dark. You’d set up camp in an abandoned building, and Ellie had fallen asleep instantly, leaving you and Joel to sort out whatever remained of your belongings.
Joel sighed, and rubbed his forehead like he always did when he was faced with a problem he couldn’t tell anyone else about. He’d done it before too, it was his tell, something you’d begun to pick up on.
Are you trying to rub the wrinkles away? you’d joked, and he’d frowned and turned away. Not before you caught the hint of a smile; but he would never admit it.
It wasn’t that he hated who who he was with. He’d come to a begrudging place of affection as far as Ellie was concerned, his wayward cargo with her potty-mouth and her knife and her endless prattle. He’d told her to zip it twice the night before, to no avail. She’d gone on and on about what she’d heard about places to eat before the world had ended, and what a McDonalds was, and was it true there were secret sauces that nobody could ever reveal the recipe to on pain of death?
He’d laughed then, and looked over at you; you, Ellie’s guardian, the only person she trusted, sent by Marlene to keep an eye on her because she had too little faith in Joel and Tess let her go her unaccompanied. Your only job was to keep Ellie alive, Marlene had told Joel, even if you lost your own life in the process. Joel had hated you when you’d first set out with them; cursed you out under his breath, gave you looks that could turn water to ice. Slowly, after Tess’s death, the two of you had found an understanding, based on one simple fact— both of you were here only to keep Ellie safe, no matter what.
And lately, you realized, it had begun to feel like a friendship; you two would raise your eyebrows companionably when Ellie went on one of her spiels about what she knew about life-before, joke as you cooked meals, argue about the music in the car— you’d only been seven when the outbreak begun, but you’d had your favorite songs at that age already, songs your parents had played in the car as they drove you to school, singing along.
Not to mention, the tiny fact that you’d been falling for Joel.
It hadn’t happened all at once, of course. You’d seen him around long before he was tasked with transporting Ellie— a tall man with flinty eyes, his mouth never too far from a frown. He’d been trading with Marlene for years, always staying just as long as necessary, never making eye contact with anyone except her. You’d thought him handsome; certainly handsomer than any of the Fireflies, but it was over the course of your journey that you’d begun to really see him—the softness of his mouth as he hummed along to the old cassette tapes Ellie fished out from between the seats. The big, callused hands on his gun. The way he’d dived to cover you, putting himself in the line of direct gunfire, when you’d been grazed by a stray bullet two days ago.
“Are we headed north again tomorrow?” you asked to make conversation. You kept your voice low, to avoid waking Ellie up. “I think there’s a route that loops around one of the smaller towns. There might be raiders, but the roads will likely be clear—”
Joel didn’t look up from stacking what was left of the canned food.
“Or we could spend tomorrow looking around the houses nearby,” you offered. “I don’t think there’s anybody around for miles, and if we try I think we might find something we can use—”
“And risk getting bitten, which’ll be really fuckin’ likely?” Joel snapped without turning around. “Abandoned homes are nearly always—Jesus. Did the Fireflies teach you nothing?”
You went quiet then, hurt. Joel sighed, and put down the can to look at you.
“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry.” He came over to sit beside you, leaning his head against the wall. “I didn’t mean for it to come out— come out like that.”
You didn’t reply, and shrugged.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He looked over at you, his brown eyes suddenly clouded with regret.
“I know. And I’m sorry, I really am. It’s just…” He rubbed his forehead again. “I’ve been on edge about getting to fuckin’ Wyoming for so long, and with you getting shot—”
“Grazed.”
“Shot.” He gestured to your thigh. “How is it now?”
“Not too bad. I would show you, but—” your face suddenly went red and you realized what you’d been about to say. But I’d have to take off what I’m wearing.
Not that Joel hadn’t seen it all before. He’d been with Tess, and no doubt, many women before that— and you couldn’t deny you hadn’t thought about it yourself. What it would feel like to have his hands cup your breasts, his lips taste your neck. You’d always looked away guiltily— what would he do, if he knew you were thinking these things?
But Joel had seen you too— he’d bandaged up your thigh when it had happened, his fingers making quick work of it. It had been a flesh wound, nothing worse, but his skin had been warm against yours, and his grip had been firm.
“You should clean it.” He fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. “You can do it yourself, if you know how. Or I can…” he swallowed, and suddenly, you sensed an undercurrent of something that he wasn’t saying. “Or I can do it.”
You shrugged, trying your hardest to stay nonchalant.
“Those supplies are in the next room,” you said. You’d left them there, like an idiot, when you’d gone to explore.
Joel said nothing, and helped you up wordlessly. With his support, you limped over to the adjoining room— a room which contained, you realized in embarrassment, a bed.
“Okay,” you said, and winced as you leaned against what was left of the mattress. “I’ll just—”
“Here.” Joel leaned over. His fingers touched the waistband of your torn cargo pants. “It’ll go easier if I do it.”
You nodded in affirmation, and Joel hooked his fingers under the waistband, careful not to touch too much, and pushed your pants down your legs. He stopped when they went past your thighs, and you shook your head.
“Take them off. The snaps hurt my skin.”
He continued— was his breathing suddenly heavier, or were you imagining it?— and let your pants pool on the floor. The bandage had soaked through; Joel was right. It needed to be cleaned, and badly.
Slowly, he began pulling off the bandage to clean the surface beneath. You watched him as he worked, aware of the pain, but even more aware how warm his fingers were on your thigh, how close they were to your core, and how all you wore now was a thin pair of cotton underwear that would soon be soaked with your juices. It embarrassed you and excited you at the same time, knowing he’d see how much you wanted him. It went on forever, and you could swear he smelled the scent of your longing when—
“Done,” he said at last, his voice low, gruff. He pulled away, barely an inch. “I’ll-” his voice broke off. “I’ll take a look at it again tomorrow.” He turned away— but you caught a telltale bulge at his front, hard against the fabric of his pants.
He wanted you too.
“Joel.” He looked up, brown eyes meeting yours. You sat up, slowly, and without breaking eye contact, began to pull off your tattered old tshirt. “I want you to look at me.” He breathed in sharply when he saw your chest, breasts barely contained in an old black bra. His eyes dipped to meet them hungrily as you undid the clasp and let your breasts free, nipples peaked at the thought of him, his eyes, his mouth.
“Y/N, I-” he began, but you shook your head. Slowly, you took his hand, and guided it to the center of his panties, showing him your wetness, showing him just how much you needed him.
And that was all Joel needed to let himself free. With a lurch he let his mouth meet yours, and your tongues collided in a fiery kiss. His lips were rough against yours, his beard scratching your cheek. His fingers made quick work of the panties, pulling them down and discarding them to the ground.
“Fuck, Y/N.” He breathed as he saw all of you for the first time, swollen and ready for him. “Fuck.”
His mouth found your nipple, wrapping around it as his fingers worked at your core. In the moment, he left an enormous red mark on your neck— a mark you knew you’d have to hide under layers of clothes the next day.
He bent down to push his face between your legs, but you shook your head.
“Later.” You panted. “Now, I need you.”
He sat up, complying. Slowly, he guided his impressive length into you, filling you up completely, his heat against yours. He was huge, bigger than any of the men you’d had back in Boston. And on the first motion of his hips, you knew he was better too; rougher, more experienced. He took what he wanted.
“You’re so tight.” He groaned. “You’re gonna have me in a bad way, Y/N.”
He moved inside you, every stroke sending waves of pleasure though you. And when you went over the edge, he came with you, biting your shoulder as he let his seed trickle over your stomach.
He rolled off you with a groan, and you covered his mouth with a kiss.
“I want you to do this again tomorrow.” You gave him a wink. “Inspect my.. wounds.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Tomorrow?” He gave you a devilish grin as he moved down to push his face between your legs. “I’m a man who likes to get things done as soon as he can.” He licked the inside of your thigh, his tongue sending a shiver through you. “And those wounds need inspecting right about now.”
#joel#joel miller#ellie#tess#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#the last of us#the last of us smut#joel miller imagine#after the end of the world#the last of us hbo#hbo max#last of us#last of us fanfiction#last of us fic#joel x female reader#long long time#cordyceps#fireflies
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Salon Erotique
Tags: TheLounge, NSFW… not exactly smut?, Secret Number, Soodam, Futanari reader insert (intentionally this time, too!), cliche fanfic intro, pretty girl, awkward girl, pretty awkward girl, nudity and talk of sex but no actual sex occurs, there is no smut in this SMUT wtf, yall I gave you so many opportunities, I guess it’s a fuckin romcom, Denise and Dita are unhelpful wingmen, does it count as a foot fetish if they’re chicken feet, seriously her lip twitches are the most fucking darling thing, visions in the sauce, 90% of the dirty talk comes from Giselle, how dare you make me write almost-fluff, I’m eventually gonna write the craziest smut in retaliation or just because I intended to all along idk, I uh could have posted this four months ago, oops, happy Secret Number comeback day!, enjoy!
Another day, another photoshoot. It’s not that you’re sick of these. Quite the contrary, they’re a fantastic source of supplementary income and you can appreciate that. It’s just that they’re an overused plot device.
But despite that, you feel that this particular photoshoot is going to be an interesting one.
You heft your camera bag off your shoulder and get your lighting set up. Your client today rented a studio for this. The space itself is super nice. Small, but not so small as to be uncomfortable. Warm, not hot. Private, not isolated. You wonder how much your client spent on it.
Speaking of the devil, she has appeared.
You’re pretty sure, anyway. She’s a beautiful woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, with a calf-length black dress and a classy grey jacket over it. Based on her carefully applied makeup and the fact that her wavy brunette hair looks like it just came from the salon, you’re pretty sure this is your client.
“Soodam?” you ask to verify.
She regards you with a silent look for a moment. “Yes… I made an appointment.”
Well… yeah. That would explain why you’re here.
“Yup. That’s great. So I’ve got the lighting ready to go. What exactly are you looking for, Soodam?”
She removes her jacket and hangs it with care on a hook on the door. The upper half of her dress is as conservative and modest as the length. “A photoshoot.”
Oh, so it’s going to be one of those days.
“Yes, of course. What sort of feel are you going for? Do you maybe have a theme in mind? Or a specific situation you plan on using the photos for?”
Soodam steps into the staging area and looks in every direction but yours.
Is she going to answer?
Options for Part 1:
She just wants something professional-looking to put on her instagram.
(Picked:) She wants some tasteful, artistic nudes.
She wants promotional material for her group.
Soodam does not answer you. At least not verbally. Instead, she pulls her dress up and over her head, taking a bit longer than one would with a shirt, given its length.
You can’t help but stare as she undresses. For one, you weren’t expecting her to. For two, you’re stunned by the absolutely murderous shape of her body. The subtle flare of her hips and her bubble butt, toned legs and tummy, and breasts wrapped in lacy white.
She stands there, nearly naked, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, eyes continuing to wander.
You cough to get her attention, hoping for an explanation. Soodam merely hums, as if agreeing with you, and unhooks her bra, dropping it to the side with her dress.
“Woah!” You have to pull your shirt a bit further down to keep the bulge from being too obvious through your yoga pants. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s going on here?”
Soodam gives you a curious look. “A photoshoot.” There she goes again...
“In the nude?!”
“Yes,” she states matter-of-factly, then, surprisingly, continues after a pause, “I see. Starting with the lingerie on. That will look nice.”
Clearly she doesn’t understand your distress.
You turn around as she bends over to pick up her bra again, avoiding the far too alluring sight of her ass, and fumble your phone out of your purse. You need to figure out if she said something about this that you missed when she hired you. But when you unlock your phone, the map that you hadn’t bothered to close is on screen, and you see a marker on your current position. You hadn’t thought much about the name of the studio before arriving, but now it makes sense.
salon érotique
You don’t need to have studied French to know you’ve gotten yourself into an interesting situation. It’s fine though. You can do this. You’re a goddamn professional.
“Well then, Soodam, thoughts on the lighting? Too warm? Cool?”
“I like it.”
Of course that’s all she has to say. You turn around to discover that she’s much closer to you, mere feet away. You could touch her if you reached out...
“It’s strange for girls to look at each other like that, you know.”
It would seem you were staring again. And this time she caught you.
Options for Part 2:
(Picked:) Brush it off. As previously stated, you’re a goddamn professional. You’re just… tired.
Admit that you just weren’t expecting a nude photoshoot, because you’re a dummo.
Correct her because, um, actually, you’re a futanari, gosh.
“Look at each other like what?” you ask, feigning ignorance. “I’m scanning my subject. Sorry if it’s coming across as something else. I just didn’t get quite enough sleep last night.”
“That’s okay, as long as the pictures turn out nicely.” Soodam sounds quite uninterested in your fake plight.
You steel your nerves and pick up your camera.
The first round of pictures is innocent enough. Soodam drapes herself across the white cloth background, and her lingerie practically blends in. Over time, however, the poses become more and more erotique. She pulls at the straps of the bra and lets them fall.
You think about your memory card. Soon enough, it’s going to be jam packed with sensual photos that you never expected would be inside of it.
Despite your insistence on professionalism, you struggle to keep your erection out of view. This was certainly not the day to have decided against baggier jeans. At least your shirt hangs low enough to conceal your shame.
You find yourself talking like a cheesy photographer anyway. “That’s great, Soodam! Yes! Hand on the hip! Pop that leg!”
Soodam is either into it, or she’s very good at interpreting stupid instructions. Which is the case, you couldn’t say, but her silent obedience is sure to produce high resolution gold.
“Yes! YES! You’re a cat! You’re a sexy cat! Prowl for me, baby! MEOW!”
The words escaping your mouth become increasingly more incoherent. There’s no stopping you and your artistic rampage.
Well actually, your camera stops you quite easily. The usual shutter sound it produces is replaced by a shrill beeping. It’s time to swap the memory.
You grumble as you dig through your bag. The interruption of your flow is extremely unwelcome, but at least it brings you back to reality. It’s a good thing too, because you notice the hard outline of your cock is almost fully visible. Your shirt must have gotten caught in your waistband somehow.
Readjusting, you turn back, only to see Soodam dragging her lacy panties down to her mid-thigh. Her bra is unclasped and barely hanging on by one shoulder.
Options for Part 3:
(Picked:) Keep taking pictures as normal. You don’t want to cause any distress.
Take off your top. It’s only right that you and your model are dressed similarly, right?
Peace the fuck out of there. This is too hot for you to handle.
Of course, you decide, it would be absolutely stupid to do anything other than continuing to do your job like a normal person. This is your livelihood and you have a reputation to uphold! Not that your job hasn’t led you all the way to sex with several idols in the past, but that’s no excuse!
You slap your cheeks and let the adrenaline course through your veins. New memory card installed, you swing the camera around to continue the shoot.
Soodam remains perfectly stoic, as if she’s done full pictorials naked before. And she sure poses like she knows what she’s doing too.
She starts on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. She slowly kicks one raised foot back and forth, touching one finger to the corner of her seductive lips. Her other hand is placed coyly over her breast.
Next pose. Soodam sits up, panties casually sliding down until they’re hanging off her toes. She props her chin up, elbow to knee. One arm goes between her legs to obscure her pussy. Her bra is just about gone, looking almost like a purse flung over her shoulder and leaving her tiny, pointed nipples completely out.
Next pose. The underwear is gone. With the technical exception of her modest earrings, Soodam is one hundred percent nude. She drapes herself back, arms over the head, hair fanned out. Her knees are still up, one crossed over the other. You stand halfway over her to get a series of glamorous pictures from above. When she looks up, you swear she’s staring through the camera and into your eyes. You gulp down your nerves and keep up the pace.
Next pose. Soodam gets on her knees, popping her shockingly round booty out toward you. “Hey, I… hope you know I didn’t mean anything by saying that… about girls.”
You pause your camera work. “Oh. That’s oka--”
“I’m just nervous about doing a photoshoot like this. That’s all.”
Options for Part 4:
Tell her she’s doing well. You’d never have guessed she was nervous.
(Picked:) Say it’s fine, if she makes it up to you. Say, by paying for dinner.
Imply, not all that subtly, that she shouldn’t be so damn rude.
“Uh. Oh. No worries, Soodam. It’s fine.”
“Are you sure? I can make it up to you.”
You look her up and down. She’s still looking away from you, so it seems like the perfect opportunity to take in the view… Not that you’re taking hundreds of nude pictures of her or something.
The curve of her back, the way her thighs and calves spread out as they press into each other, her slim shoulders, it’s all making you feel crazy. You think for a moment that you could ask her to suck your dick, or something similarly dirty, but no. That would be way too brazen of you, and she’d never go for that. Would she? You blurt it out.
“How about you take me out for dinner?”
Okay, so you didn’t blurt out anything dirty, but you almost did!
“Tonight? After the shoot?” Soodam asks.
Your thought process hadn’t gotten that far. “Uh, totally. If you’re free.”
“Okay.”
Okay. That settles it somehow, you suppose. You adjust your cock again to not appear through your leggings and get back to taking pictures. Tasteful… hopefully… pictures.
But just like that, the photoshoot ends. Soodam didn’t do anything really wild, as expected. Over the course of several more poses, not unlike some relatively tame pin-ups or boudoir images, nothing out of the relative ordinary happened.
You pack your camera back up, clasping all of the relevant memory cards in a secure case. You certainly don’t want to be losing these ones. Soodam gets dressed once more. It’s almost a shock just how modest her outfit is, but it’s what she wore in. You guess it’s your horny futa mind that made you forget.
“So…” Soodam hovers around as you take down the lighting. “Do you like chicken feet?”
As an amalgamation of people, you don’t really have that strong of a preference, but still you say, “Yup! Is that where you want to go?”
“Yes. And… Is this…” Her words may be slow, but at least they’re efficient. “A date?”
You look up from your shade folding. Again, she’s not looking at you. She’s looking anywhere but, in fact.
Options for Part 5:
A date immediately after taking her naked pictures? No, that’s weird.
(Picked:) Of course it’s a date. A romantic/cutesy one, in fact.
Neither, because it was a trick, and you’re leaving now.
“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose. After you said what you did about girls looking at each oth--”
“I’m sorry.” Soodam interrupts. It seems perhaps that she’s trying to avoid mention of her potential homophobia. “Yes, it’s a date.”
You smile. She may be rude but at least she’s cute and to the point. “So does that mean you’ll be showing me a cute, romantic time tonight?”
The first sign of emotion you’ve seen out of her today appears. A rosy blush spreads across her cheeks. You’re about to let her know that it’s a joke and you’re not trying to extort a romance out of her, but she makes a beeline for the door.
“Yes, I’ll make sure it’s romantic,” she says on her way. She doesn’t look back.
What a weird chick…
Once all of your equipment is packed up and ready to go, you get a single text telling you where to go and when. Looks like you’ve got a few hours to get ready.
* * *
Thankfully, the directions were easy to follow.
Soodam is standing outside the restaurant and, unlike you, she’s changed clothes: A tank top with a cardigan, both white, a short, pink skirt, and white sneakers. She could certainly be described as cute, but the cute look is undercut by her nervous fidgeting. Her entire demeanor is different from the way it was at the studio.
In fact, she barely, sheepishly greets you, “Hi… Follow me.”
You do exactly that. “Well hello Soodam,” you say to her back.
She doesn’t meet your eye when you reach your reserved table either, but gestures for you to sit.
“No, not there!”
You pause, half-crouched. “Oh. Uh, wrong table?”
“No, I mean… Please sit here, on this side.” Her gestures frantically change direction to the opposite side of the table.
Weird might have been too tame a word to describe Soodam. But even so, you swap to the other side of the table and she sits across from you. Wordlessly and with her head down, she holds out a menu to you with both hands.
After a moment of looking it over, entirely in silence, you decide to try and break the ice. “So, Soodam. What was this you were telling me about chicken feet?”
“You… don’t have to order chicken feet. But this place makes the best chicken feet. You should definitely try it, because… You should definitely try it.”
That might be the most you’ve ever heard her speak. Too bad she said it to her feet.
Options for Part 6:
(Picked:) Clearly she wants you to order the chicken feet. Order the chicken feet.
Actually, you’re in the mood for a different kind of spice. Order the teokbokki.
Go in a totally different direction! Order the salmon.
Moments later, a waiter comes by and asks if you’re ready. Hoping to avoid any more awkwardness, you ask for the house special chicken feet. Soodam asks for the same.
And then, nothing really happens. You look around the restaurant. The wood of the seats goes all the way to the ceiling, but with large gaps in between slats. There’s very much an industrial type look throughout. Or their designer was lazy. Behind you there are a couple empty tables and a person with their hoodie obscuring their eyes. To the side, a few more people sitting at individual tables, dressed as if they had just come directly from bed. Seems to be a pretty slow day.
Minutes worth of silence has you bored and anxious. You don’t know what to say to Soodam, or even if you should say anything. You’d be at home editing the day’s photos with a bowl of ramen if you weren’t here now. And Soodam is obviously not much of a talker. You look down at your phone both to check the time and see if anybody’s sent you an urgent enough text that you can get back out of this.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see some movement from Soodam though. You don’t think much of it until she reaches out with lightning speed and snatches your phone-wielding hand.
Her eyes are wide, and her lips are twitching like she’s trying to come up with something to say, but isn’t able to make any noise.
“I, uh, shouldn’t check my phone?” you ask.
“No. I mean… no. I mean we should talk. Right? This is a date, and we should talk.”
Soodam’s words aren’t very convincing, especially since she keeps looking nervously to the side between them.
“Yeah, what do you want to talk about?”
The lip and eye twitching continues. It looks like she’s struggling to smile. “What time… are you from?”
She releases your hand and hangs her head low enough you can just see her nose through her hair. Before you can ask what she means, she speaks again. “I mean do you have any questions for me?”
Options for Part 7:
Questions? Um yes. Is she alright? What happened to the photoshoot confidence?
No, you don’t have any questions. You want to see where she was going with that.
(Picked, you nerds:) A few. What’s her name, her quest, and the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?
Ask if she wants to see some of the photos you already edited… in public.
A grin splits your face. “Yeah I’ve got a few. What’s your name?”
Soodam looks back up, obviously confused. “Lee Soodam. You knew that.”
You nod. “Okay. What is your quest?”
From somewhere in the restaurant you hear someone snicker. It seems they can hear you and already get the reference. Soodam definitely doesn’t. Her mouth continues to twitch as she desperately searches for whatever words might constitute a real answer.
“To… date… you? I don’t know what y--”
You interrupt for the final question. “What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?”
Somebody behind you bursts into laughter, followed by a loud "African or European?!" In that same moment, Soodam winces in pain and clutches her ear. You've seen enough romantic comedy movies to know what's going on.
You look back and make eye contact with the laughing girl. She has frizzy, faded orange hair and a hoodie which, you realize, was previously concealing her face. She stops laughing, whispers something down her shirt, and runs out of the restaurant.
Soodam looks absolutely mortified when you face her again.
"So who was that?" you ask, trying not to sound confrontational.
There's a long pause before she answers. "Denise."
At least she's not a liar.
"Can I see your ear?"
Trembling like a leaf, Soodam turns her head. You hadn’t noticed thanks to some very clever makeup, but there's a cord partially disguised as part of her earring.
"Were you hoping to get like, walked through the date or something?"
Soodam nods and hangs her head.
“You know,” you say, putting a hand on the table as if you’re going to stand up, “if you’re uncomfortable with this, we can go…”
“No!” She grabs your hand and yanks the cord away from her ear. There’s a patch of bare skin left over by some stage tape. “I’ve never been with a girl before and I don’t actually girls I mean go on dates in the first place and I’m very cute I mean you’re cute and I’m very nervous is what I meant to say please don’t leave we can do anything you want you’re actually very cute.”
Well now you know why she normally speaks so slowly.
Options for Part 8:
(Picked:) Get her to tell you more about herself. That’s the kind of thing a date is for, isn’t it?
Dates with you tend to include sexy times too… Where’s the bathroom in this place?
You smile. “That’s... Well that’s good to hear, Soodam.”
You take your hand off the table and settle back in. Soodam’s mouth just twitches some more for about half a minute.
“You, uh, blew your whole load on that outburst, didn’t you?”
She droops into her seat, slowly pulling her hand away from yours. “Yes. I’m… Sorry.”
Not entirely content with the idea of dipping into another extremely awkward few minutes, you snatch her hand before she can get too far away, just like she did with you. “Hey! Don’t be sorry! I didn’t realize you were taking this so seriously. How about I lead the conversation a bit more and see if that helps you out?”
Soodam nods and trains her eyes on yours. “That… yes, please.”
“Well let’s start with something simple. I promise this one’s not a joke. What’s your favorite color?”
Leading the conversation turns out to be a challenge in and of itself. Soodam seems content (that is, as content as someone with the nerves of a meerkat can be) to answer your questions simply and efficiently, and doesn’t give you much to latch onto. Topics that don’t exactly spark anything in her up until your food arrives include family, school, and vacation destinations.
But the food itself makes her eyes glitter.
“You a big fan of chicken feet?” you ask. It’s rhetorical since you can see drool starting at the corners of her mouth.
Her sudden enthusiasm shocks you awake. “Yes! I love it! See, this is how you eat it, first...”
Soodam’s hands are a blur, grabbing utensils, disposable gloves, and bowls, all while describing the step-by-step process of optimizing the flavor of chicken feet. Before you know it, she’s holding a large, steaming spoon in your face, loaded with rice, sauce, and jiggling chicken cartilage. She stares into your eyes expectantly. It’s a slightly creepy look when it’s not accompanied by a smile, but you’ve already come to expect the awkwardness.
You open your mouth wide and she gently places the food in your mouth. The salt hits you first, then the herbs. You chew carefully since it’s still hot and experience that ever so slightly chewy texture. Then comes the burn. You feel your sinuses clear out and your eyes are watering within seconds. This shit is way hotter than you expected.
“Do you like it?” Soodam asks before you even have time to process all of the sensations.
Options for Part 9:
Of course you like it! This restaurant was a good choice.
Nah, you’re not really that big on chicken feet, but you hope she likes it!
(Picked:) You’ll have to answer that after you ICE YOUR TONGUE WHERE’S THE SODA
You cough once. That’s all it takes for the spice to coat every nook and cranny of your throat. It’s not like you don’t have your fair share of experience with spice, but something in this blend was clearly harvested from one of the rings of hell, because you can already feel your butt clenching in anticipation of the next few days of pain.
Your vision is foggy from the pain and glassy from the tears simultaneously, vaguely like a mirage. You’d call the combination a brilliant grey if you didn’t feel the severe need to pay a surprise visit to Starship Medical and get the blood ties behind your eyes checked out.
“Are you okay?” Soodam asks. Her voice sounds a little distant, like you’re recovering from the sound of a couple of gunshots being fired off on either side of your head.
“Y-hhh I’m fine,” you hiss. The way you’re fanning your eyes probably doesn’t project the same message. “All good vibes here!”
Soodam’s lips are quivering again, you’re pretty sure. “I… let me get you some water!”
It’s not a bad plan. You haven’t had to worry about this for a while, so you’re left trying to remember if water is supposed to help in this situation or make it worse. Or is that milk? Whatever, you already gambled on eating this cherry bomb of a chicken foot. What’s another roll of the dice on something ice cold? Fuck, even some mint chocolate ice cream would be paradise right about now.
At what feels like a caterpillar’s pace to you, Soodam gets a glass in your hand. You’re unsure of your coordination at the moment, but you yank it toward your face and find sweet relief in the refreshing, crisp taste of Coke Zero. Zero calories, zero sugar, great Coke taste! Together tastes better!
It seems the corporate sponsorship is staving off the pain for now. Things were getting a little meta there. You can still feel the spice at the back of your throat. It’s all but guaranteed to come back with a vengeance soon, but for Soodam, everything is worth it… you think. “Thanks,” you gasp.
“You’re… welcome. Sorry.”
“No, you’re fine Soodam. I needed this anyway. My pores were feeling clogged.”
“Really? I can… feed you more.”
You sigh.
Options for Part 10:
Yes, that was definitely not sarcasm. Please, she should feed you more.
(Picked:) You know, it’s funny, it turns out you’re not super hungry. She should eat the rest.
Okay, now she owes you one for attempted futaslaughter. Time for her to eat your ass.
“You know,” you say, still fanning your tongue between words, “It’s funny. It turns out that I’m not super hungry after all. You should eat the rest.”
Soodam’s eyes go wide. You’re sure you’ve said yet another thing to make her scared, nervous, or generally trepidatious, until she whispers, “All of it?”
You nod slowly. “Yeah? I mean if you want it all.”
Her gaze shifts from you to the bounty of food on the table and you think you see the twinkle of a forming tear. “A double order of chicken feet... The whole thing.”
“Um. Yes.”
Soodam sits back down, sparkling eyes fixed on the bounteous feast laid out before her. She lifts her various eating implements. Drool forms at the corners of her mouth. She glances up at you, still breathing briskly through pursed lips, and sets her utensils back down.
“I’m… being selfish. I’m sorry.”
“What? No really, I’m not hungry.”
“Thank you, but I mean all day today. I didn’t treat you like a real person at the salon. And now that we’re here I’m making it all about me.”
You’re a bit taken aback by the apparently very sudden self realization. You can only hope this is the last personality shift you see from Soodam. “Didn’t treat me like a person? I don’t know what you mean.”
Soodam sighs. Her eyebrows scrunch up in some inscrutable combination of frustration and sadness. “No, I… was nervous about the shoot, so I decided to treat you like you weren’t real. When you said you wanted a date… I panicked. I wanted my members to help me and I wanted to do everything like I was here alone… I didn’t take what you wanted into account.”
“Well, Soodam, that’s a little more explanation than I think you necessarily needed to provide, but I—members?”
“Yes. Of Secret Number. We… got rookie of the year a while ago.”
It’s no wonder. You’re always getting tied up in idols’ affairs. “And members? More than one?”
Soodam looks to the side. You follow her gaze. One of the people, a somewhat tan girl in an exercise outfit, sitting at a table near your booth looks back at you like a deer caught in the headlights. After a very awkward moment, she hops off her chair. “I’m going to—Oh hi by the way, I’m Dita. I’m gonna go. I know this is weird…”
“Hi Dita. Nice to meet you,” you say. No sense not being courteous.
“Nice to meet you too. Ummm, bye.” Dita slowly walks away as she gives Soodam the most hesitant half-smile, double-thumbs-up combo you’ve seen in a while.
You turn on Soodam once again. “Any more members? Or anyone else?”
She avoids your gaze. “No. Jinny and Lea... weren’t at the dorm.”
Options for Part 11:
(Picked:) It’s not the first time she’s said she’s nervous. Ask why. Surely the mood swings aren’t just because you’re cute.
You don’t need to know why she’s nervous. You can remedy that with a heavy, maybe naked make out session!
Wait. She wasn’t treating you like a human? Now that you know she’s an idol, that seems real high and mighty! Get out of there!
She probably just needs to air out her true feelings. Confess your love for her and suggest she do the same.
"So to be clear," you say, "You've never dated a girl before."
Soodam nods.
"But you said it's strange for girls to stare at each other."
Soodam nods.
"But you think I'm cute."
Soodam nods again.
"What am I missing that's making you so nervous then? Did the author miss a plot hole?"
Soodam starts nodding, but stops. Her eyebrows stitch together. “What?”
“Forget it. It’s just something I say sometimes. What’s got you so nervous?”
Without a hint of emotion in her voice, but plenty on her face, Soodam softly says, “I’m… an idol.”
“Yeah,” you say at a regular volume, “I gathered that in the last minute. What’s your point though?”
“There’s a dating ban.” Soodam tilts her head to the side as she explains. “And even worse, if it were to get out that I dated a girl… there would be trouble. Especially if people suspect that we...”
She stops speaking altogether. You’re fairly sure she would have said something about sex if she wasn’t Soodam. You lean back and think. It’s not that her point is wrong, exactly.
“Have you been to The Lounge, Soodam?”
Obviously confused, she slowly points at the entrance to the restaurant.
“No, and I think that’s a lobby. The Lounge is a cafe. I’ll take that as a no.”
Soodam shakes her head.
“Okay, so I think we should probably go there sometime so I can prove this point. Um. Yeah, you won’t get caught dating. Or doing anything for that matter.” The words come out of your mouth so fluidly it’s as if you’ve rehearsed this script.
“I don’t…”
“Well I guess if you try to get caught, you could do it.”
Now it’s Soodam’s turn to lean back, staring at you like you’re the crazy one. She still doesn’t have anything to say, so you do what you can to assure her.
“See, I’ve been working with idols for a while now. At least a few years. I’m telling you, idols regularly get up to the craziest stuff, and nobody ever gets caught.”
“That’s… absurd,” Soodam whispers. She’s not actually wrong, come to think of it. It’s not clear exactly how you and all of the idols you know get away with everything you’ve done and seen. But your confidence is unwavering.
You pull your phone out of your bag. “I understand the hesitation. Would you like to ask one yourself? I’ve got a hell of a contacts list. We can make it a video call.”
Soodam’s head tilt gets dangerously close to snapping her neck, but she looks down at your phone and back up, as if prompting you to go through with it.
Well alright. Who’s it going to be?
Options for Part 12:
(Picked:) Call Giselle and pray that SM doesn’t have her too busy to take the call.
Call Chuu and keep your fingers crossed that she doesn’t sound high.
Call Hani and try to count on her even remembering who you are.
Call Ryujin and hope she doesn’t seduce Soodam into leaving the date.
Call Minnie and presume that she won’t try to extort you for her help.
An SM idol seems like your best bet to convince someone that you have connections. And wouldn't you know it? Giselle is pretty close to the top of your contacts list.
Black Mamba plays quietly as you call. Soodam's eyes grow wide.
And there's no answer. Eventually the phone just shuts off. It doesn’t give you a chance to leave a voice message.
Now it's your turn to look nervous at Soodam. "Guess she must be bus—"
Your phone rings. Thank fuck, Giselle is calling back.
“Hey, what’s up? Sorry. I couldn’t reach my phone in time.”
Giselle’s face lights up your phone, only partially superimposed in the corner by the blank void where your selfie camera points back at your face. She’s wearing some strange, high fashion get up: An open jacket with pointy shoulders, half a pair of sunglasses (sun… monocle? sunmonocle), and a very very small fedora-like hat. She’s surrounded by dozens of staff in what looks to be yet another Givenchy promo shoot.
“Sup Jizzy? I’ve got a friend here who, it turns out, is an idol like you!" You turn the phone around. Soodam freezes like a deer in the headlights.
"Oooh! Girl, obviously I know Soodam."
Soodam slaps her hands over her mouth. You respond for her. "Really? How's that?"
"Secret Number is a big deal. You should know that. Besides, gotta keep an eye on those Japanese idols. If you don—" The phone cuts out for a moment. "—ut Lea's super chill from what I hear."
You laugh, partially to widen the break in Giselle’s speech. She can go on forever sometimes. "So here's the thing Jizzy. We're on a date, but Soodam is worried about getting caught."
"What? Why?"
You nod at Soodam, who hasn't so much as twitched. "You wanna tell her?"
She doesn't lower her hands, and barely whispers, "Dating ban…"
That's all Giselle needs, it seems, as she jumps back into it. "Oh don't worry about that. It's literally impossible to get caught. Check this out. Hey manager! Yeah! Hey! I just got a call from a chick with a gorgeous cock! You cool if I take a break to go meet up with her so she can eat me out?"
There's a moment of silence. Giselle seems to be waiting for a response. Soodam looks terrified, but that's nothing new. You're slightly shocked at having been randomly outed and at Giselle’s brazenness.
"Aw, he says no. But that's no surprise. I'm actually working right now. But look at that! A whole room of people heard me say that and their only concern is that I might take a break. Hey you! You heard me just now right? Why did I want a break again? Oh you don't remember? Shame. I wanted to go get fucked. By a futa gir—"
You quickly turn the phone back around.
Options for Part 13:
Interrupt Giselle. She shouldn't be pushing her luck with this weirdness! Shut up!
(Picked:) Ask Giselle when the next time is that you'll meet up to fuck. Kill two birds with one video call.
Hang up! You didn’t mean to reveal that to Soodam and now you need to do damage control.
"Hey! Hey! Jizzy! Shush! Don't push your luck," you hiss. Though, maybe like Giselle, you don't actually have to contain your voice. "But no, really. Not right now. I gotta go because I'm on a date, but when are we going to meet up next?"
"Like the next time you destroy my holes, you mean? You busy on Sunday?"
"Nope, let's do it! Text me a time."
"Ha, yeah girl! I'll see you then. Keep your cock warm in the new girl for m—Oh, good to meet you Soodam! Get my number from her and we can meet in person! Byyye!"
You smile, wave, and tap the button to hang up. What a fun girl, that Giselle…
Oh shit, that was a huge change in tone from the rest of the date.
You look up to see Soodam staring at you like a deer in the headlights. Or, you know, like Soodam.
You gingerly set the phone down next to you on the seat. "Sorry. Bad manners to talk to other people on a date."
She doesn't move. Actually, after spending a certain amount of time with Soodam, you think "deer in the headlights" might not be a strong enough idiom. She's like a… Buddha... mannequin.
"And sorry for not telling you a few other important factors about dati—"
"You're… poly?" Oh damn, Soodam can still speak.
"I guess that's one way to put it. It's hard to define, but that's a pretty efficient way to put it. I probably should have brought it up before the date, but I didn't want to sound too presumptu—"
"CanIjoin?" This girl is really getting into the habit of interrupting you. Wait.
"Sorry, what?"
"Can… I join?" Soodam speaks between inward breaths. She's going to explode soon if she doesn't exhale.
"Just like that? I mean this our first date, and…" Your tongue goes a little numb. You can't remember the last time you turned someone down. Is that even what you're doing?
"Yes. Can I." Intake. "Be one of." Intake. "Your girlfriends?" Her face is getting red, but you can't tell if it's because she's holding her breath or if it's your run of the mill blush. Probably both.
That was forward of her. You think.
Options for Part 14:
Yeah, you're turning her down. This date has been extremely… unconventional. Not interested.
Of course she can be one of your girlfriends. You've been trying to tap that this whole time.
(Picked:) Girlfriends? Poly? Hold up. You don't define your relationships. This requires a much longer discussion.
“I… um.” You stutter. But for the sake of Soodam’s presumably precious lungs, you should probably make up your mind.
“Sorry, Soodam. I really don’t want to reject you, and I’m not, but I don’t like putting labels on my relationships. It wouldn’t be fair to… some other people if I just said yes.”
Soodam’s lips quiver and her eyes start waterin—oh no, you made her cry! Fuck! That’s now how this is supposed to work! “No, Soodam! I’m sorr—“
“Ohthankgod,” she says through a quickly released breath. She leans over the table, clutching at her chest.
“Thank?”
“I don’t know what came over me… why I asked that. I’m not ready to date. I’m… Oh god, Giselle knew my name, and…”
You stare at the top of her heaving head. She didn’t mean it when she asked to be your girlfriend? Well, now you’re a little hurt. She sort of technically said you were cute earlier… “I mean, I’m not ready to date either. But, you know, like, I was really considering it. I would just need, like, some convincing.”
Soodam falls back against her seat, fanning her face, still working on regulating her breathing. “No, that’s okay… I really can’t date… Too weird.”
“Too weird? Is it about me being a futa? Because, like, that’s not always the ca—”
She interrupts, again, a little more in control of herself. “That’s not what I mean. It’s relationships. I can’t… take that much attention.”
You stare at each other for a few moments. “Like this?” you ask, realizing you’re being very attentive suddenly.
Soodam rips her eyes away from yours and nods rapidly. “I like the idea… of being with someone pretty like you.” You can feel your self esteem re-enter your body. “I just don’t think I can… love?”
Oooh, heavy.
“You still want to spend time together without being romantic?” you ask.
She looks back into your eyes just long enough to convey that she’s being genuine when she nods. You smile back and hold out your hand, a little off to the side to avoid dipping your elbow in hell’s favorite chicken feet sauce. “May I make a suggestion then? Like a real one.”
Soodam shifts under her cardigan into a slightly more relaxed pose. Her face still seems to be expressing some amount of consternation, but you’re starting to catch on to the concept that it might just be her permanent state of being, like it’s her personal twist on resting bitch face. But even so, the corners of her mouth twitch upward.
Options for Part 15:
You can just be good friends! With the single stipulation that you occasionally hold hands in public, no matter how lewd that is.
(Picked:) Come on. Say it with yourself now. Friends. With. Benefits. Ain’t nothing wrong with some emotionally aloof butt-fucking!
You know, you still have to pick and edit the stuff from her photoshoot, and you could use help. Ask if she wants to be your coworker!
"If you like the idea of, you know, being together," You pause to watch Soodam slowly nod. "But you don't want to do a relationship, which I also don't, to reiterate," You pause again. Same reaction. "But you are totally cool with maybe perhaps staying friends, which I love the idea of," She doesn't nod this time. Instead, one side of her mouth wiggles up. It may look a little hesitant, but it sure seems like the most genuine… or only smile you've seen from her today.
"We could maybe, if it's cool, try a situation like, say,"
"Gal pals?!" Soodam's outburst makes you jump a little, and gets some dirty looks from the surrounding restaurant patrons.
You take a second to process. "Wait, gal pals?"
Soodam nods, very enthusiastically now.
"I thought you didn't want the romance."
"What?"
"Gal pal is a romantically coded term."
"It just means… girls who are friends but has a secret connotation that they have sex sometimes."
"Who told you that?"
Soodam's smile fades. It was nice while it lasted. "I… looked it up."
"It's about… okay, you're technically correct, but the general implications is that the titular 'gals' who are being 'pals' are actually in a committed relationship with each other."
She snatches your hand, which you suddenly remember has been floating over the table for a while now. "No! That's not what… what do you call lesbian friends with benefits then?"
You smirk. At least you were going in the same direction. "Um, 'friends with benefits?' But there's space to make adjustments to the terminology."
"Are you sure it's not 'gal pals?' Why does it have to be romantic?" Soodam gives you an unexpectedly angry glare, catching you off guard. Her grip on your hand gets a little tight.
"I just—"
"Who told you that's the case?"
You suddenly don't recall. Maybe it's best to relent. "I… good point. Let's be gal pals then?"
The smile isn't so hesitant and lopsided this time. Her eyes make way for a single dimple. "Okay."
The rest of the date feels like more of a… well, a date. Soodam opens up and actually engages in conversation, even if she's still awkward and very to the point about most subjects. She annihilates the chicken feet throughout, not even noticing that you steal the occasional spoonful of rice (there's no way you'll be incinerating your soft palate just because you're a bit hungry).
A few times, she makes a little flirtatious move on you: a brush of the foot on your leg, a stroke of the finger on the back of your hand, a bite of the lip when you make eye contact. It's somewhere between juvenile and impossibly arousing. The sun has gone down outside by the time you even think to tear your eyes from her to look at the time. A skinny young man in an apron walks by and subtly reminds the two of you that the restaurant is trying to close, and you're the only ones left.
Outside, you catch a glimpse of the coffee shop across the street, Denise and Dita in the window. They're clearly still trying to evade detection, but being the only people with a reason to use binoculars at night in a public space gives them away.
Soodam catches your hand. "I guess this is bye for now."
"I guess so. I'm glad we met up, Soodam."
"Me too… pal." She grins far too widely at her single entendre. She turns you to fully face her and goes in for a hug, face pressed against your shoulder. You return the gesture, trying not to laugh at your own speculative mental image of her members' reaction on the other side of the street.
"Can we meet again soon?" she asks, muffled.
"Of course…" You remember a very good reason to meet again soon. "I have to get your pictures to you."
There's a long pause. Maybe mentioning several gigabytes of lewd and nude photos of your date isn't the best way to end the night. But then, the hint of mischievousness in her voice tells you it wasn't all that bad.
"Actually, can I… help you pick them?"
You pull away from the hug enough to see Soodam's lip-biting grin.
"Oh dear, Soodam. How suggestive."
The hug itself gets a little more suggestive when her fingers trail down and squeeze your ass. "I'm not suggesting anything… Are you?"
"Of course not. It will be a perfectly normal, friendly day of looking at your naked pictures."
"Day?"
"Or night. You pick."
"Hm. A day sounds good. That will give you more time to figure it out."
"Figure it out? Figure what out?"
Soodam's grip on your buttcheeks becomes extra brazen, curling inward and kneading. "That I won't be wearing panties, like today."
You feel like you should say something about how you no longer have to figure that out since she told you, but your curiosity and latent horniness overwhelm you. You start to reach for her butt to get your hands on it the same way her hands are on yours, or maybe you can go under her skirt. That perfect, bubble-round butt that you've tried so hard not to think about since arriving at the restaurant is so close! So ready for your touch!
But Soodam backs off. Your fingertips merely brushed her hips, and your own ass suddenly felt very lonely and unsqueezed. "Text me your address if you want me… to come over."
Even in your mild daze, you catch on. That particular pause was much more intentional than most. You shudder. This girl might be more seductive than she's been letting on.
"Friday. Yep, Friday is good. I'll send you my address tonight."
Before you can react, Soodam is millimeters away from your face. She gives you a chaste peck on the corner of your mouth and drops back. "Don't look at the pictures until then, okay?"
Soodam is walking away by the time you regain enough of your senses to speak again. The sway of her frustratingly opaque and barely too long skirt don't help."H-hey! What was the photoshoot for, anyway?"
You can barely make out the blush on her cheeks in the dim street light as she turns back to you. "I'll… tell you on Friday."
The anticlimactic answer pains you as much as the sight of her slowly shrinking silhouette. When she turns a corner, you finally get the unfortunate relief of not watching her.
Another day, a little more than just another photoshoot. It really was an interesting one.
Thank fuck for that overused plot device.
THE END
Heylo, thank you for bearing with joining me for another one of these! Sorry for the, uh, drawn out time frame. But like... it happens.
Anyway, on to the stuff!
Storyline unlocks:
[Soodam - PromiScoodam]
[Giselle - Ally]
Unpicked option facts:
Part 1: No lie, the studio was going to be called salon érotique regardless of the option picked. This is a SMUT.
Part 3: Damn, nobody wanted smut in this SMUT apparently. No votes for anything except the fluffy option. Obviously this would have been a very different story overall if not for this.
Part 4: If the vote had been to call her out for rudeness, I was going to write her as a more dominant personality moving forward.
Part 7: The Monty Python reference was not in my original outline. I hadn't thought of an option that would reveal Denise and Dita up to that point, so I tossed it in as half a joke. The no questions option was meant to make it more rom-com as she'd have stumbled around over two different explanations in her ear.
Part 10: While not a fun fact about the options, this part was fun to write because I accidentally incorporated a couple references to other writers' stories that I enjoyed, and eventually decided to go back and fill it with more of that.
Part 12: Calling Chuu and Hani were the "bad" options, resulting in Soodam not believing you. It wouldn't have ended the story, but would have made her very suspicious of you. Ryujin was a sex option because Soodam was going to get hot and bothered and basically jump you. And Minnie would have turned out much the same as Giselle, but I would have swapped Minnie out of Sorry for Shuhua (not for any good reason, but just to not repeat idols so quickly).
Part 13: Y'all caught me off guard with this vote. I thought you were trying to keep the story pure, but nooo. I had already started writing Part 14 as if one of the other two options had been picked, but then the overwhelming majority was like "Kk, sex talk time." Not that I especially mind, but it was a funny switch up.
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I Put A Spell On You - Obey Me Boys and A Witch MC
I may have mentioned it in an ask or something before, but I'm actually a practicing witch. (Sorry, Mammon.) So, in honor of spooky season, I bring you witch MC!
----
Lucifer: "Can I ask you something?"
Lucifer looked up from the report he had been working on. In the House of Lamentation, hearing that question was very rarely followed by anything but disaster. He bit back the urge to sigh and turned to look at the human. "You may."
"Have you ever been summoned by a witch?" the human set down their pen. They had taken refuge in Lucifer's room in an attempt to actually get their homework done, and had been working diligently up until this point. "Like, successfully."
He raised an eyebrow. "No, I haven't. I doubt any mortal witch would have the power to actually summon me."
"That's what I thought," they leaned back in their chair, stretching.
"What brought this on?"
"A witch I know up in the Human Realm swore up and down that he had, quote unquote, ‘summoned Lucifer himself.’ No one believed him anyway, but I figured I would ask just to confirm my suspicions.”
“No, it is highly unlikely that a mortal witch would have the magical power to summon me,” Lucifer chuckled darkly. “Although many have tried.”
“What happens to them when they do?” they asked, completely abandoning their work at this point. Part of Lucifer wanted to reprimand them for getting distracted, but he couldn’t deny that he liked having their attention on him. “Do you curse them or something?”
“I do nothing,” he smirked as they got up to lean against his desk. Perhaps he could stand to take a break as well. “The minor demons they actually summon, however, often have their fun with those foolish enough to try.”
“Oh, I’ll bet the Little Ds have a blast with them, huh?” the human grinned.
“Ask Number Two about the time he possessed a ouija board and convinced a human they would die if they ever wore the color blue again.”
Laughing, the human moved to return to their spot at his coffee table where they had spread out all of their study materials. Lucifer, however, had different plans.
“Oof!”
In one quick, fluid motion, he had grasped the human around the waist and tugged them into his lap. The movement had mussed up their hair, and he affectionately moved a few strands out of their face to see their adorable pout.
“You know, my dear, you are the only human witch able to summon me. You should wear that fact like a badge of honor.”
Mammon: “Now that’s just playin’ dirty!”
The human had to make a concentrated effort not to laugh at Mammon. “Yeah, they really didn’t have to go that far. They already have you by the balls.”
“They do not!” Mammon growled, crossing his arms. “Nobody has control over The Great Mammon!”
“Except for the multitude of humans who you made pacts with because they promised you a few bucks.”
“Wow, okay.”
Shaking their head, they gently plucked the doll out of Mammon’s palm. It was a standard poppet, made out of cloth. “Why don’t you just have Lucifer or Satan undo the curses?”
“Because,” Mammon huffed. “Human magic is different from demon magic. None of us know the first thing about it.”
“You just don’t want to admit to anyone that the witches pulled one over on you again.”
“Can you fix it or not?”
Smothering another laugh, they brought the poppet closer to examine it. Aside from the basic filling, it felt like there were some stones in there, and they thought they smelled some herbs.
“So, basically all you need to do is remove whatever link they used to bind the doll to you,” they muttered, more to themself than anything. “Usually it’s hair, nail, a drop of blood if they’re feeling particularly nasty…”
“That’s what they were doin’?”
The human looked up, tilting their head. “What?”
“One of the witches was bein’ real nice to me,” Mammon sighed. “Patting me on the head when I dropped off some money for them. Shoulda known she was trying something fishy!”
“Okay, that answers that.” they made their way over to their desk, plopping down in the chair. “So she probably pulled out some of your hair and put it inside the doll. So all we have to do it get it out, this thing becomes a regular old doll, and voila, curse broken.”
“How do we do that?” Mammon asked, peering over their shoulder as they reached into their drawer. His blue eyes widened when they pulled out a pair of scissors. “Whaddaya plan on doin’ with those?”
“Mammon, this is going to hurt like a bitch.”
“Wha - ack!”
Mammon doubled over in pain at the same time the human cut open a slice on the doll’s belly. There, right in the center of the stuffing and stones - and there were herbs in there, they had been right! - was a little bundle of white hair, tied with a piece of twine.
“Ah-ha!” they plucked the bunch out of the doll, and Mammon just barely managed to catch himself on the corner of the desk before he went crashing to the floor.
“Holy shit, human, I’m gonna fuckin’ hurl.”
“Do it somewhere that isn’t my room, please.”
Leviathan: “Levi, I don’t know how to tell you this, but ‘witch’ and ‘magical girl’ aren’t the same thing.”
Ever since they let it slip that they practiced witchcraft, Levi had obsessively forced them to watch every magical girl anime he could think of. It was his way of relating to them, they were sure, but it was starting to get a little out of hand. There were only so many variations of the magical girl trope in existence.
Levi frowned at them. “It’s not?”
“Well, for one, I don’t own a super cute lolita dress.”
“Do you want me to make you one?”
The human laughed. “Somehow I don’t think showing up to a coven meeting wearing a pink loli dress will make the others take me very seriously.”
“What about blue?”
“Leviathan.”
“Fine, fine,” he huffed. “So if it’s not like in the anime, what is human magic like?”
“A lot more boring than demon magic, honestly.” the human shrugged, turning back to the monitor. Since they had put their foot down against watching Madoka, the two of them were rewatching Sailor Moon. “A lot of using herbs and crystals and energy. Really symbolic.”
“That is boring,” Levi scowled. “You don’t even get a transformation sequence.”
“I’m just as mad about it as you are, dude.”
Satan: “Holy shit, Satan, that is a ton of books.”
THe demon had no reason to look as proud as he did as he sat the stack of books on the table in front of him. “This isn’t even all of them. Some of them are cursed, so I let them be for now.”
“That’s...both impressive and concerning.” the human picked up a book off the top of the pile. “Whoa, it’s even handwritten!”
“I’ve collected my fair share of grimoires over the millennia.” Satan took a seat across from them, watching as they turned each page with reverence. “I believe that one is from a Scottish witch from the 16th century.”
“Should I be wearing gloves or something?” they cradled the book like it was made of glass. “This is historic, Satan.”
“I’ve cast the appropriate spells on them to prevent them from decaying, don’t worry.” Satan laughed. “Although your concern is appreciated.”
“I could learn so much about the craft from these,” their voice was barely above a whisper, eyes wide as they scanned each page like it contained the secret to eternal life. “This is...wow…”
The look of utter rapture that the human had on their face was endearing, and Satan couldn’t help but smile softly at them. “Feel free to peruse them whenever you like. They deserve to be appreciated.”
“You mean it?” they looked up with hope sparkling in their eyes. “Thank you so much, Satan!”
“Of course,” he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind their ear. “That look on your face is worth any price.”
Asmodeus: “I have a gift for you!”
Asmo poked his head up from where he had buried it in his D.D.D. The human stood next to the couch, arms clasped behind their back and a giddy smile stretching across their face. Asmo could practically feel them vibrating from excitement.
“Ooh, for me? Darling, you shouldn’t have!” He pocketed his phone and gave them his full attention. “What is it?”
They held out their hands, revealing the treasure they had been hiding. “Ta-da!”
Asmo carefully picked up the chain from their palms. Dangling from the end of it was a small bottle, wrapped carefully in wire and turned into a pendant. Tiny, translucent pink stones sat inside, nestled in a layer of salt and herbs. The magic surrounding it was faint, as most human witchery was, but it was so uniquely them that Asmo could just about cry.
“Oh, darling, you made me a love charm!” he exclaimed, immediately slipping the necklace on. “It’s so cute! I love it, thank you so much!”
The human smiled. “I’m glad! I wasn’t sure what to do with the rose quartz, but I knew you would love them, so I figured I would make you something! Not that I really think a love charm would work on you, but I figured you would appreciate the aesthetic.”
Asmo laughed, reaching forward to cup the side of their face gently. “You don’t need to use a love charm on me, darling. I’m already captivated by you.” His other hand came up to touch the pendent resting against his collarbone. “This will just serve as a reminder of how spellbound you’ve made me.”
Beelzebub: When they had first described themself as a “kitchen witch,” Beel had thought that they meant they were a really good cook.
And while that was true, they also were literally a kitchen witch.
“Basil for protection...oregano to ward off negative magic...there, that should do it.”
To Beel, it just looked like they were making pasta. Which was never a bad thing. But they chose which herbs to season it with such intention and purpose, Beel knew it was more than that.
“Do herbs really have magic?” he asked, leaning on the counter next to the stove while the human worked on magic dinner. “I’ve never thought of them as particularly magical.”
“It’s more of a human thing,” they said, sprinkling the last of the oregano over the pot of sauce. “We don’t get the flashy sparks and all that, so we had to develop our own magic.”
“Hm…” Beel regarded the pot with curiosity. “Is that why your cooking is so good?”
“Sure, we’ll go with that.” they laughed, swatting at his hand as he slowly approached the pot. “You aren’t sneaky, Beel.”
“Can I just have a taste?”
“Your ‘taste’ is drinking the whole pot like it’s soup.” they rolled their eyes. “I haven’t even started cooking it yet! It’s cold!”
Beel pouted, looking every bit the kicked puppy. “But I want to taste your magic.”
“You can taste my magic when dinner’s ready.”
Belphegor: On nights when he couldn’t sleep, Belphie usually ended up with the human.
Sometimes it was just him wiggling his way into their bed and cuddling with them until he felt sleepy. But tonight, it looks like they were sharing a case of insomnia.
So that was how he ended up sitting on the human’s floor with his hand in their lap as they studied it like it was a textbook.
“So? What do the squiggly lines of destiny tell you about me?”
“That you’re a little bitch.” they shot back, running their thumb over the center of his palm. “You have a lot of crosses on your heart line.”
“Which means?”
“You’re emotionally fucked up.”
Belphie snorted. “I could have told you that one.”
“You’re the one who came in here and wanted to see some human magic, I don’t want to hear any complaining.” they let go of his hand. “The only reason I’m breaking out the salt and candles is to banish your demonic ass from my room.”
“You know that only works on lesser demons.”
“Anything will work as banishment if I throw it hard enough.”
Diavolo: This...felt kind of pointless, honestly.
They knew it was mainly because of Diavolo’s obsession with human culture. But doing a Tarot reading for the Crown Prince of Hell seemed like a waste of everyone’s time.
Well, regardless, a summons from Diavolo was not to be ignored, so they had dutifully gathered up their cards and made their way to the Demon Lord’s Castle.
“You know,” they began hesitantly. “If you want to know the future, you have a time-manipulating butler right there.”
Barbatos, ever watchfully, chuckled and inclined his head. “My Lord is fascinated by human methods of divination.”
“It’s true,” Diavolo nodded. “Tarot especially has always piqued my interest, but very rarely do I have time to indulge with the other witches who visit the Devildom.”
....Oh, they really couldn’t say no to the hopeful gleam in his eye. A man that large had no right to look that cute.
“Alright,” they handed him the deck of cards. It looked hilariously small in his hands. “Go ahead and shuffle them.”
“Oh, I get to do it?”
“If you want,” they shrugged. “I usually have whoever is being read for do the shuffling, so the deck can get a feel for their energy. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”
“No, this is exciting!” He really did look like he was having fun. “How many should I draw?”
“Just one, and we can go from there.”
With a focus that might have been a bit too intense, Diavolo began shuffling. He handled the deck carefully, which made them happy. So many people were rough with the cards, and they were always worried they were going to get ruined.
“Alright.” Diavolo laid a card face down on the table between them. “Would you like to do the honors?”
He was being dramatic, but they couldn’t help but play along. What was the harm in a little bit of fun? They flipped the card face up and let out a startled chuckle.
The Devil.
“Did you do that on purpose?” they asked, laughter dripping from their voice.
“No, honest!” Diavolo was laughing too. “What does the Devil card mean?”
“It means my deck has a sense of humor.”
#obey me shall we date#obey me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me beelzebub#obey me beel#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie#obey me diavolo
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Dork Solomon Agenda
You say sexy shady sorcerer I say nerd and love of my life
Solomon is a sad lonely little man why just wants a genuine connection us that so much to ask???
No but seriously like. It's totally fine if you hc Solomon as this man-turned-lowkey-sex-god with a million succubi and more at his whim whenever he wants and would be a tough one to put the ol' ball and chain on like to each their own for sure! But that's not MY hc
(Thats not to say my hc means he doesn't ever engage in casual sex like that and wanting a genuine long term relationship at some point [or finding out thats what you want when you meet someone] are not mutually exclusive yknow)
So like Solomon isn't the type to be short with you or keep you at an arm's length (i mean...u get what I mean. Once you're close enough and all that jazz) or get annoyed by you wanting to be affectionate?? Hello??
He LOVES the little things you do (some on accident tbh). You feeling affectionate today and give him a kiss or three on his face before you leave to go to your separate classes? Adorable, he's fallen in love again. You do that thing where you like.. forget how to walk straight and just accidentally bump into him? No come back he likes being close to you :( He doesn't SAY these things but there's a light, airy laugh he has that gives him away.
If you're ever facetiming he will say "boo!" when you connect instead of just. Greeting you like a normal person.
His fuckin. His devilgram name is monSOLO. My mans is a star wars fan!!! I dont know any of The Discourse bc I'm not super into star wars myself but he has IN DEPTH opinions about the movies. Seriously rivals Levi in this aspect. Please make time for movie nights where you watch the movies together 🥺 especially if you haven't seen them before he'd love to convert you 🥺
Didn't Solomon also have a thing for TSL??? Or am I just imagining it??
I feel like his ideal date would be exploring something new, whether its this new spooky forest or "hey have we been down this alley before? Let's check it out!" but ideal date number TWO is movie night. Even if it isn't Star Wars. He likes to sit on opposite ends of the couch throwing popcorn into each other's mouths (and big candies like peanut m&ms where you both have almost choked before) and maybe a footsie war if he's feeling real devious. Then at some point you grab a blanket and snuggle up to him and you both fall asleep on the couch
Simeon yells at him when you leave because there's popcorn EVERYWHERE
LOVES when you laugh super loud. Idk man he just thinks its great when you have such unbridled joy and then he laughs too 😊 not as loud though he's more of a quiet chuckle kind of guy (most of the time).
Is friends with Asmo so is extremely great at slumber party gossip. Catch him in his pajamas, cross-legged on the floor while clutching a pillow to his chest and listening intently to you rant about the brothers.
"Come here I have a secret to tell you" (blows air in your ear) "okay okay I'm sorry but come here again" (blows air on your neck) "okay okay last time! I actually have something to tell you. Please? Its important...." (kisses ur cheek) "like u a lil bit xo"
Never the type to send "good morning beautiful" or "good night 💞" texts. Instead he'll send you something at 4 am like "the infinite cosmos will eventually swallow whole all familiarity and life as it is now presently known and despite the adaptations humans or demons or angels could make i will still have to adapt and face the world as an alien in the realm I love so dearly. Funny how the strongest of beings bow to the whim of space and time. But sometimes my eternal journey doesn't seem so daunting when I realize that with my everlasting life will be the memory of you no matter how distant and the survival of the vessel you loved...."
And then at lunch that day when the brothers pull you away he'll send you a picture of the lasagna they're serving with "this kinda looks like you? Don't worry I'd still hit it" and then two minutes later "you not the pasta"
Is the type to think randomly "oh damn I love you so much" but has an impressive filter about it. Or he thinks he does until Luke grumbles "ugh get a room thats the fifth time you've seen that since monday" ok, sometimes he has a good filter about it
He can't help it! Sometimes you just say something really smart (or something SPECTACULARLY dumb) or you do something cute like lean on him or smile a specific way or-
Sir.....you're head over heels sir :/
The type who would go to a playground at night with you and just swing on the swings talking about life
Wants to have a secret handshake with you!!
If you're ever on a road trip with just the two of you, you can get him to join in on the terrible singing but he'll be a lot quieter than you
Also will only join in if he isn't driving. If he is and you aren't talking, he's just humming underneath his breath. Will drum on the steering wheel though
Cooking
(Yes, it gets its own section because MAYBE I'm obsessed with the idea of MC teaching Solomon to cook and the food still turning out terrible but at least it isn't a void when MC is helping)
The type to flick water at you every time he washes his hands. Will chase you down just to do it.
"Hey, tilt your head back and open your mouth MC" (proceeds to dump too big a handful of shredded cheese in your mouth)
100% the type to lean over you just to hinder your cooking abilities. Who cares if the sauce splashes he's tiiiired.... you'd let belphie do it :(
Puts a hand on your lower back when he passes behind you. Hopes you'll lean into it/step back and offer him a kiss 🥺
Believes in always having a proper table setting. Prepare for whatever juice they have (or water) in wine glasses if you're having a nice-er meal
Under the assumption that a spell ruined his sense of taste (and not that he's just bad at cooking) he hates spicy food. He can feel the burn but he gets none of the flavor??? Wack. Don't hurt him like that MC. If you do because its hilarious to watch him try to be cool about it he will pout
Gets cheesy aprons. He just likes them.
Will hit you on the top of your head with a whisk to hear the noise it makes
Will buy every kitchen hack tool there is. A ketchup dispenser that looks like a gun? He's got it. A fish that helps you squeeze out the egg yolks? Yes! A dinosaur soup ladle? You bet! Pizza scissors? A tool that makes hard boiled eggs into cubes? Something that's gotta be like 200 years old and no discernable purpose? Absolutely! He wants a hot dog toaster. Do they even have hot dogs in the devildom?
Will sneak bites just because it bothers you
Overall
Look at him. He hasn't had friends in centuries. He's playful!
Look at his DEVILGRAM NAME
His funky little WAND
This is a man who is a huge nerd, thrives off of cliches and just wants to have a good time. So let him! Its mentally exhausting having those pretenses up all the time.
#solomon#obey me#solomon fluff#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#swd obey me#obey me solomon#solomon x reader#solomon hcs#mine#swd solomon#long post#??? i think it is#mobile formatting SUCKS
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satan's little blessing.
© @sonsofeorl
MICHAEL ‘RIZ’ ARIZA. (x Taza Romero's daughter)
MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS
❝ words: about 1.4k.
❝ warnings: nsfw, oral sex (male receiving), language, mention of bodily fluids.
❝ a / n: a beautiful dream i had last night 😌 as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!
Your intentions of preparing Riz a good breakfast and bringing it to bed are ruined when two arms are wrapped around you and a nose is sunk in your neck. You can't help but close your eyes gasping, turning around under his embrace, not needing much time to notice the lump beneath his black boxers. A week has passed since he left Santo Padre for a quick run, and two days since he came back but you had to attend your father. Today, he's all yours and you're all his. Your tongues find each other's out of your mouth, pushing yours to your cavity as you moan against his.
Riz's hands roam up your sides, raising the gems of the t-shirt you have stolen him too damn slowly, dragging his fingertips over your exposed skin as his caresses give you goosebumps. Your secret boyfriend loves to torture you after you've been teasing him with your hot messages during the whole trip. His lips don't have any rush either, tasting yours meticulously, while his fingers reach your hard nipples under the soft fabric. Riz pinches them shameless, drinking the moan you can't hold back, as he purrs in your mouth.
The bubble of heat you two are inside of is broken when his phone starts to ring somewhere around the living room. And you know he must reply to the call. He grunts resting his forehead on yours before placing a pissed kiss to leave you there, breathless and needed. It only takes him a couple of seconds to answer and come back to the kitchen. His face is priceless and by his gesture, you know who is at the other side of the line.
“What's up, brother?”
Brother. If only your father knew what his brother is doing (...). You lick your bottom lip mischievously, walking towards your boyfriend dangerously as he frowns confused because of your grimace.
“No, no, I just woke up, no worries”.
He goes backward until his body finds the nearest wall. He is scared. He can read your intentions on the feigned innocence appearing on your eyes. And you don't give him time to stop you, being already kneeled in front of him and pulling his boxers down.
“Yeah, no… I'm gonna stay at home today”.
Riz is sweating, bowing down his head to find your lustful orbs over his hard dick raised majestically to his abdomen. He tries to push you away with his free hand, gripping his wrist with your fingers to pin it to the wall by the side of his hips. Using the tip of your tongue you lick all his length —from the base to the reddened tip—, sucking only his head between your lips. You can see him closing his eyes, gulping a loud pleased moan as he tries to follow the conversation.
“(Y/N)...? No, I hav— haven't seen he— fuck”.
You don't let him finish his sentence, bobbing down your head until his glans is forcing your throat to beyond his limits.
“Yeah, ye— yeah, I just… hit my toe with the door frame”.
The gag he produces you gives him enough strength to free his hand and tangle it on your hair to push you back, begging in silence for you to stop. But you're not going to. God, you have missed him so much and you don't care who he is talking to or what he has to do. Rocking your head, you twirl your tongue around his hardness making some more pressure with your lips, while Riz is starting to have some struggles to breathe.
“Her bike…? Next to my house? Where ar— are you?”
You guess your father is at Vicky's like every Sunday morning. Your boyfriend's eyes widen open, having to bite his bottom lip when you slam his dick against the walls of your throat again. Your nose is pressed to his pelvis, your crystal eyes are on his scared ones and you're about to choke if it wasn't because you can notice the force he's doing to not moan again.
“Lemme… check if she's here. You know tha— that she hates to sleep alone in the ranch… and sometimes she co— comes here”.
Yeah, you sometimes come there. Freeing his cock but gripping it gently with your fingers to jerk him off, your mouth goes straight to his balls. You suck them and pull them back with no mercy, whilst the dance of your hand around his length becomes hasty. Riz is enduring like a champion, pretending he's walking through his house to try to find you.
“I don— don't know, Taza… I was too drunk when I… came home. I fell asleep on the so— sofa. Maybe she's in my bed”. Your boyfriend needs to pause briefly because of how good you look with his balls within your mouth, tasting him in all his splendor, running him out of words. “I'm… okay… I just have a fuckin' headache… Yeah, it's called hangover… thanks for your wisdom, brother”.
“Go check on her, idiot”.
You can feel his heated cock starting to twitch under your grip and you know he's really close. This is a new record. He isn't going to last not even a minute. The risk, the need, your warm mouth swallowing him and sucking his life out of his body is too much to handle at the same time.
“Okay, I'm… I'm… coming”. Riz gasp inappreciable for your father, but not for you.
“You don't have to tell me you're coming to your room. The fuck is wrong with you today?” You can hear your dad laughing at the other side of the phone, making you giggle because your boyfriend is really stupid sometimes.
As soon as your lips are blowing his dick down, increasing the pace of the swing of your head, the Mexican helps you to go a little faster to finish this torture you have put him into. But, God, he's not going to lie. He's enjoying it more than ever in his life. He can't put his eyes off from you, putting the speaker on to leave it over the dinner table to free his other hand —the one that lands by the side of the other. In silence, arching his back, Riz fucks your mouth. He fucks your mouth rough, quick, clumsily, abusing your lips and your throat now that he can go deeper.
Your saliva mixed with his pre-cum spills itself through the corner of your lips, trying to breathe by your nostrils while your crystal eyes continue glued to his darkest orb, letting him use you at his will.
“Is she there or not? Your house isn't that big”.
“Yeah, wa— wait. I was checking the guests' room”. Riz lies, not holding his orgasm for any longer.
He closes his eyelids strongly, opening his mouth as much as he can because of the pleasure of exploding inside of your mouth, pressing your face against his pelvis as much as he can. Gladly choking you on his bittersweet cum to punish you for playing with him like that.
“Satan's little blessing is here”. Your boyfriend pants unconsciously, resting his head against the wall gulping a new silent grunt.
“Send me a picture”.
Riz looks at you almost panicking. That petition has turned him off completely, letting you go. Your cheeks are burning because of the effort. Your chin, your neck, your shirt (...), wherever he looks at your boyfriend can see part of his cum and your saliva. The less you have couldn't swallow. But you're not worried at all, collecting it with your fingers to suck them clean under his attentive horrified glance.
“Okay, you, ah… lemme hang up and I wil—”.
“You don't need to hang up to send me a picture”.
“I'm a man! I can't do two thiNGS AT ONCE”.
“Fucking relax, brother. You're gonna wake her up”.
Because you aren't enough awake yet.
“Forget it. You're dumb as fuck, Ariza, I swear it. Can't understand the hell has seen my daughter on you”.
“You said what?”
Standing up as you clean your mouth on your shirt, you raise both eyebrows about to break in laughs. Is that pretty obvious? Does he really know what happens between the two of you?
“I know my kid better than she knows herself. And you… you… you're dumb as fuck, man”. Taza repeats trying to not chuckle. “You fuckin' drool wherever she walks by”.
“I don't kn—”.
“Prepare her breakfast. Satan's little blessing needs coffee when she wakes up”.
Riz can't reply. Your father hangs up laughing, as he watches you cross your arms over your chest.
“Do you… refer to me like Satan's little blessing all the time?”
“You're not a fucking angel, mi amor”. He scoffs putting on his boxers, squinting at you.
GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow
MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveeee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowmans @fanofalltheficsx @aurelie-celine
#mayans mc x reader#mayans mc imagine#mayans x reader#michael riz ariza x reader#riz ariza x reader#riz ariza#michael riz ariza#i love you rizzy ❤
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First Time for Everything
a santiago ‘pope’ garcia x reader fic
word count: 2k+
rating: m for smut feat my watch kink; mentions of pregnancy
summary: It’s Santi’s birthday and you give him a present~
a/n: i wrote this a couple weeks ago and now im finally posting it!! as many of you know my main blog (damerondjarin) is still incorrectly flagged smh so i made this side blog for posting fics and gifs! and feedback is always appreciated!
tagging: @punkpascal, @tintinwrites, @damndamer0n, @mandoplease, @darksideofclarke, @yougottakeeponkeepinon, @huliabitch, @himbopoes, @mylifeliterally, @agentpike, @pascalplease, @wakalas
First Time for Everything
A classic rock song plays overhead. There’s a dull roar of voices overlapping in the sports bar. It’s dimly lit, with deep red walls and a black ceiling. TV’s playing different ball games are over the bar. It’s Santi’s birthday, and this place has his favorite wings.
He was ready to get a to-go order and spend the night with you, but the guys wanted to come hang out and buy him dinner.
So that’s how you ended up sitting in the middle of the restaurant at a tall table. Tall enough that your legs dangle from the bar stool. It’s not your first preference. If you’d could pick, it’d just be you and Santi alone in a booth in a corner. Or better yet just you and Santi home alone and naked.
It’s not that you mind the guys company. You enjoy being around them. They treat you like one of their own. You’re an extension of Santi and they respect you. You make him happy, and he makes you happy; and that makes them happy.
Santi’s hand rests on your thigh as a comfort. He knows being out in the middle isn’t your favorite. He only removes his hand to eat his meal. But he’s right there and that’s enough to bring your comfort.
There’s no keeping it a secret it’s Santi’s birthday, Benny told the waiter something like 8 times. A free dessert will be brought out once the meal is over. All Santi does is laugh, and hey he’s not complaining.
Your husband is a happy man tonight, you pat his tight stomach when he leans back in his chair, full and content. He grunts a little, as it tickles him. He’s about to lean in to kiss you when you swipe a bit of sauce from the corner of his lips.
“What did you get Pope for his birthday?” Benny asks with an obvious tease in his tone.
“I haven’t given it to him yet,” you play along, your face heating anyway when Benny smacks Santi on the back. “There’s something else that he doesn’t know about yet,” you add in.
Santi raises an eyebrow, his hand back on your thigh. His palm warm on your bare skin, and his pinkie finger just under the hem of your shorts. Will and Frankie share a surprised look from your comment.
“Guys calm down I’m not pregnant,” you laugh.
Santi leans in for a kiss, and presses another to your cheek.
“Do you wanna be?” he murmurs in your ear. You don’t have time to answer because the dessert is brought out and a group of singing wait staff crowd around the table. Benny sings loudly along with them, and Frankie can only shake his head with a laugh. Will takes a swig of his beer but joins in the singing. You sing too and plant a big kiss on your husband’s cheek as the dessert is set in front of him.
He gets a big spoonful and holds it up to your lips. His eyes have a secret hidden heat in them as he pulls the spoon from your lips. Then like nothing happened, he tucks into the dessert himself.
He gives you a couple more bites before he finishes it, and this time he wipes some chocolate sauce from the corner of your mouth. Only instead of his finger, he kisses it off.
His hand finds its spot again on your thigh while the conversation turns into goodbyes as the night winds down. The bill has been paid and everyone’s letting their food settle a bit before getting up to leave.
Will and Benny leave together. You stay seated while Will kisses your cheek, and Benny wraps you up in a huge hug. Benny gives you a wink, you know what it’s for. Santi’s gonna get lucky tonight.
They hug Santi and you take that opportunity to turn to Frankie to say your goodbye to him. He adjusts his hat on his head and pops one of his remaining fries in his mouth. He gets up and squeezes your shoulder and smacks Santi on the back telling him happy birthday. Leaving you and Santi sitting at the table.
He flips his hand on your thigh over, his wrist coming to rest on your skin. His palm is open to you, he’s offering you his hand, but all you can focus on is his watch face digging into your skin.
All it takes is one look from you and he’s on to you. He doesn’t say anything, just quietly observes. He presses his watch into your skin just a little deeper and your heart jumps.
Fuck.
He knows.
You’re quick to take his hand and hop off the barstool. The heat of his gaze is too much, and the night has only begun.
His hand is in yours and he follows close behind, he slides up close to you and pulls his hand from yours – putting it on your hip.
“Something you wanna tell me?”
“No,” you smile, which he returns.
“I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” he teases. His ‘threat’ goes right to your core. You know what that entails. He’s right, he has a way of getting you to ‘talk.’
His hand is still on your hip as you walk in the parking lot, Frankie drives by in his truck and honks his horn when he sees the two of you. Santi gives a little two fingered salute at his friend.
Once in Santi’s truck, you lean in and give him another cheek kiss while he starts the engine. He turns to kiss your lips and he hums.
“How’s your birthday so far hmm?”
“It’s been great, honey. But I have a feeling it’s going to get better.”
“Don’t speed on the way home,” you laugh.
He gives you a little wink. You grab his hand and pull it in your lap. Your fingers interlock with his, and with your other hand you rub up and down his forearm.
The drive home is familiar, nothing new to notice. It all fades in the background. All you can focus on is what you’re going to give your sweet husband when you get home.
“So, do you?” his voice pulls you from your thoughts about him.
“Do I what my love?”
“Do you want a baby?” he seems nervous. His fingers flex slightly against yours. “We’ve not really talked about it in a while. Is that something you still want?”
You bring his hand up to your lips and kiss the back of his hand. You don’t answer verbally, just a nod of your head ‘yes.’ His foot presses a little harder on the gas and you giggle behind his hand.
When he reaches your driveway, he pulls his hand from yours. With his knuckle his presses the garage door opener. He pulls his truck in the garage next to your car. He pulls the keys from the ignition and sits for a moment. Still.
“What?” you freeze, your first thought is that something is wrong.
“Honey,” he purrs and lunges forward to kiss at your neck. “I wanna fuckin’ take you in the backseat right now.”
“I have to give you your present!” you squeal while he starts to bite on your neck. His stubbled chin scrapes your collarbone.
“I thought you were my present?” he murmurs and kisses behind your ear. His hands cradle your head, there’s no pulling away.
“That’s not all of it!”
“Fine,” he pretends to pout and opens his door. He unlocks the side door and closes the garage and squeezes your ass when you pass by him into the house.
“Go sit down and get undressed,” you point to the couch when he turns on the living room lights. “I’ll come out with your surprise. Don’t move.”
“Yes ma’am,” he grins and steals another kiss before doing what you ask.
Your stomach flips with excitement, it’s been a while since you’ve put on lingerie for him. You disappear into your bedroom and get the bag out of your closet. Inside along with the garments is his other gift.
You undress and the redress in the lingerie. It’s sheer, thin, and lacey. It flatters your curves and you know he’ll like it. He likes you no matter what you’re wearing.
“Close your eyes!” you call out to him from the doorway. Your hands clutch to his other gift with a sudden bit of nerves. You hope it likes it. “No peeking!”
You can’t help but smile when you step out into the living room, then a rush of heat goes to your core. He’s sitting naked on the couch as requested, feet planted firmly on the floor. He’s sitting up straight, and one hand is covering his eyes. His lips twitch into a smile when he hears you come in. And his nostrils flare when he gets a whiff of his favorite perfume. He’s hard and ready for you already, you love the effect you have on him.
“Can I look honey? You sure know how to kill a man here.”
“Yes,” you tell him. He lowers his hand and his eyes widen. His mouth drops open and his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip.
“Fuck, honey. Get over here,” he laughs. He’s dying to hold you.
“First,” you hand him the small box in your hands. He takes it in his big hands popping it open to reveal a brand-new shiny silver watch. He has a few watches, but not one like this.
“Wow,” he looks up at you, “thank you!” he takes off his tactical black one and slips on the sliver one. “How does it look?” he asks sticking out his arm examining it. His eyes flick up to yours, he knows.
Without warning, he slips his hand between your legs – grabbing your ass with his hand. The band of his watch on his wrist presses into your center. The cool metal sends a chill to your hot flesh through the thin lace fabric. When your knees buckle at the friction, he steadies you with his other hand on your hip.
“Damn honey, look at you.” He presses his wrist into you harder. “Can I unwrap my present now?”
You nod with a smile; you’ve been waiting for this all night.
With a sharp tug, he pulls your panties down, then brings you to straddle his lap. Only when you’re seated does he pull off the sheer bra. A hand clutches your back as his face buries between your breasts to kiss at your chest. His stubble brushes along the sides of your chest and he groans to feel your body on his. His abs tighten with need, and his length is hard and hot in-between your bodies.
“Fuck,” he whimpers when he closes his lips around your nipple. His other hand cups your breast and you moan. He makes a point to dig his wrist into your skin so you can feel the watch. “I didn’t know my watch got you this hot, honey. It’s killing me.”
His eagerness has him pulling you onto his aching length, and you groan in unison. His right hand reaches between you to thumb at your clit. His left hand starts at your hip, his watchband digging into your skin. He moves up your body, the band brushing against you – giving you delicious chills and shudders, which spurs him on to groan. His hand finds a place on your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, but he wraps his fingers around your neck.
You know what he’s doing, and fuck if you don’t love it. His wedding ring and watch – you feel them both against your skin. It’s then he bucks up into your heat. Your hands in need of holding something, your fingers dig into his curls, and you other grasps the back of his neck. You pull his face back to your breasts and he sucks on your nipple again while he thrusts.
His fingers on your clit move faster to pull that sweet high from you. And when you tug on his curls just a little harder, he follows behind you.
“Happy birthday Santi,” you laugh, trying to catch your breath.
“Thank you honey,” he purrs into your neck. “Be honest with me though, was this watch for me or for you?”
“Both.”
He lets out a loud laugh and holds your body closer to him. He leans back into the couch cushions with a sigh. “Don’t get up yet,” he runs his hands up and down your back. “You feel too good.”
He’s softening inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. You nuzzle into his chest, feeling warm and giddy from your high.
“You think we made a baby?” you ask him, and he grunts a little, the idea turns him on.
“That’d be one hell of a birthday present, in addition to what I already got.”
Your chests are pressed together as your breathing slows. You can feel his heartbeat, and he can feel yours. His arms are comfortably wrapped around you, and you don’t move from that spot on his lap for a good while.
“I love you Santi,” you nuzzle your face into his neck. He squeezes you tighter.
“I love you too honey. What a good birthday. Seems like you enjoyed it too.”
“Santi!” you scold him, and all he does is laugh. His chest rumbles under yours.
You hope you do get pregnant; you’d love to have a baby with this wonderful man you get to call your husband.
#santiago pope garcia#santiago pope garcia x reader#santiago garcia x reader#triple frontier#my writing#FIRST FIC IN AWHILE YALL#some of yall im tagging have read it but#anyways lol
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I will pay the person who goes through the dub, finds quotes and matches them with the anon it fits best... I'll pay you $150
I'm too lazy so I mostly did eggman
----
Prompt:
"Tails, listen to me. I know who your mother is and— *dies*"
"Martha, what have you been tweeting about...WHAT THE FUCK, IS THAT SHADOWS DICK?"
"Why is my body doing this thing? I'm like a puppet on a string bririrbbriri you see that? Look at that!"
Noodles:
"Shoot me, you fucking coward. Do it! You won't! I have no reason to live anymore."
"I am going to kill you..........and then kill you again."
Al:
"You have 13 seconds till the island fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe and you blue gumball son of a bitch. You have done nothing but destroy my life and I hope you both die."
"If you say please stop one more time, I'm going to piss my own ass."
"I peed on your wife robotnik, she's mine now."
Gabe:
"I gotta get on that plaAaNe 🏃♂️"
"Who is this red stripe mohawk—why you got hot sauce on your hair cuz, what's wrong?"
Writer:
"Get the fuck out or I'm gonna shoot Amy in the fuckin face, I swear to gosh I'll do it you bitch, get out!"
"What the fuck— why does tails have the fucking weed?"
Citypop:
"I miss my wife, tails. I miss her a lot. I'll be back."
"Let me check her Twitter page on my holographics"
"Go ahead, I have 50 alternate accounts."
Watermelon:
"I put hot sauce on everything. From Twinkies to milk. It's what I do!"
Bella:
"I'm taking over Victoria's secret, I'm taking over best buy, the news is mine, and everyone else can leave. You see that planet? IM TAKING IT TOO! It looks like a fucking walnut— BOOM AND IT BUSTED A NUT THEN AND THERE"
"Hey bitchessss, didn't expect to see me?"
"YOU FOOL I HAVE 70 ALTERNATE ACCOUNTS! YOU WILL NEVER KNOW MY MAIN!"
Cup:
"That's right little girl, I hate you and your stupid nose. I'm taking everything from you, give me your phone."
"I'm taking over your worlds, I'm taking your tv, I'm glitchin it! They call me the glitch, do you know why they call me the mother fuckin glitch? Cuz I glitch the tvs out."
"Get out of here you thotass bitch you still owe me $100 anyway, we need to go."
"I've come to make an announcement, shadow the hedgehog is a bitchass motherfucker, he pissed on my fucking wife. That's right, he took his hedgehog fucking dick out and he pissed on my fucking wife And he said his dick was 't h i s b i g' and i said 'thats disgusting' so I'm making a call out post on my Twitter.com, 'shadow the hedgehog you've got a small dick, it's the size of this walnut except way smaller, and guess what? Here's what my dong looks like— that's right baby, all points, no quills, no pillows, look at that it looks like 2 balls and a bong..."
"—I'm gonna fuck the earth, this is what you geT MY SUPER LASER PISS. EXCEPT IM NOT GONNA PISS ON THE EARTH, IM GONNA GO HIGHER, IM PISSING ON THE MOOOON"
Eyes:
"*struggling to remember the password to the twitter account*"
"I have no character motive 😔"
"What are you two fucking talking about?"
Cinna:
"aUUGH MY BONES! I know i shoulda— *intense coughing* WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"
"AND SHE HAD A DIAMOND IN HER VAGINA?"
Orion:
"I hope you're ready to die it's gonna be like evangelion get the fuck out."
"...I fucked your wife 😐"
Atlas:
"ouch ouch ouch 😐"
"please stop, your mother would be very disappointed"
"as you can see, twitter went through a bunch of updates. This one, is that one that makes me go away from yo bitchass."
Nash:
"FUCK YOU MOON YOU NEVER HAD THE CHEESE I WANTED"
"Did you see that hot jpeg footage that just—"
Universal:
"You thought you were gonna escape and I knew you were gonna fart in here so I had to put up a fuckin seal!"
"Now get out of my fucking sight before I piss on you too."
Shrimp:
"Shadow! Get back here right now! Shadow! What the fuck?!"
"How do you think I feel about being cocked by a hedgehog!?"
Ikea:
"Don't gamble my life for a piss rock!"
"It's been 17 days, I'm still trying to get out of here"
Mary:
"So if I've had enough you took my wife, you fucked my crops, I'm takin ya life"
"I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCK MY WIFE"
That one anon:
"How did you know my middle name 😕"
🕳️:
"I'M BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN! OH MY GOSH IM SO S I C K."
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Forgive Me (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Reader and Bucky are enemies who prank eachother and annoy eachother all the time until one insult is taken too far, Bucky must do everything he can to make it up to the reader.
Warnings: Bucky is a bit of an asshole, insults, mentions of a parent’s death (but no details), language, kissy kissy at the end. Angst with a happy/teasing ending.
Word Count: 2,176 (oops someone take my keyboard away from me!!)
A/N: This is for @simsadventures 1k writing challenge with the prompts:
1. Enemies to Lovers
2. One character annoying the other just because they’re into them and don’t want to admit it
Thank you for letting me join babe and so sorry this took so long! I love you!!!
Another day stuck at the compound as the storm outside hit unexpectedly overnight. Too dangerous to fly the quinjets, Director Fury had canceled all missions temporarily which meant you had to stay at the compound with the team and more specifically with the man you detested from day one when he was so rude to you, the two of you never really got along since you were always bickering about everything and anything. It drove the team insane with your constant arguing, but you couldn’t stand the guy and didn’t understand why he was even on the team. All he did all day was brood and yell at you but because he’s Stevie’s best friend you figure that’s the only reason he gets away with so much.
It didn’t help the situation that you developed a big crush on Bucky. The room always felt better with his presence in, and so ordinary if he wasn’t in the room. You became jealous of every girl he dated and went to bed with, that’s when you knew you were in trouble and you were in fact, in love with him and could do nothing about it. If he ever found out, no doubt he would tease and insult you about it.
You were taking a shower in your room, sighing as the hot water cascaded down on your body as you washed away your worries, your loofah loaded up with your fruity shower gel. With the water running and you being too busy making sure to scrub every inch of your body, you didn’t hear your bathroom door open.
Bucky had stealthily entered your unlocked room and turned the cold water on in the sink, you shrieked out as the ice water hit you.
You yanked the shower curtain back slightly still covering your private parts as you gaped at the man. “Bucky, what the fuck are you doing in my room?!” You gritted through your teeth.
Bucky had a shit-eating grin on his face as he shrugged and walked out of your bathroom backward, leaving the cold water running and you groaned in frustration.
It was no secret that the two of you would prank each other occasionally. You once put green hair dye in his expensive bottle of shampoo and snapped a photo of him with the result. He retaliated by putting salt in your coffee instead of sugar.
And Bucky enjoyed annoying you, he loved getting you so riled up because he thought you were the cutest. He was in love with you and it killed him he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
You shut the shower off and got out, towel drying yourself quickly and throwing on a hoodie and a pair of black leggings. You tied back your wet hair as you exited your room, making your way down to the kitchen area where the team was hanging out. Steve and Bucky were making eggs by the stove.
“Good morning Stevie!” You greeted cheerfully, perching yourself up on the stool and resting your forearms on the counter.
“Good morning Y/N.” Steve greeted back, sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper.
“Goddamnit!” Bucky cursed. “Steve watch my eggs for a minute I forgot to grab my phone. I invited Holly for a skype chat.” Bucky sprints out of the room when Steve gives him a nod, and a smirk grows on your lips.
You quickly empty the tomato ketchup from the bottle and replace it with extra hot sauce and set it down next to Bucky’s plate of eggs just as Bucky gets back. Steve raises an eyebrow at you and shakes his head. You purse your lips and watch Bucky eagerly as he puts the sauce on his eggs and sighs. He lifts you off your seat and shoves you away from him.
“What’s the matter? Never seen a guy eat eggs before?” Bucky snaps, scooping up his scrambled eggs and eating them, immediately choking on the strength of the sauce.
“Enjoy.” You laugh, patting the soldier on the back and going to sit down on one of the couches in the common room with the team.
Bucky is seething and once he’s got his coughing under control he stalks towards you with his fists clenched by his side and a scowl burning holes in your face.
“You know what Y/N. You gotta be the most irritating fuckin’ person on the entire planet!” He grits out through his teeth.
“Well tell me Bucky, is it possible for you to choke on your own dick?” You grin, Sam spits his coffee out of his mouth.
“I don’t know doll, why don’t you get on your knees and find out?” He challenges, moving in front of you.
“Eww, no thanks. According to one of your one-night-stands, you taste like ass.”
“Oh yeah? Well, you smell like ass. You need to go and take a fuckin’ shower because you smell so bad that it’s no wonder anybody wants to be with ya. You probably got your smell from when your ma pushed your pathetic ass from her disgusting pussy.” And that was a line crossed for you. His insults you could handle, but insults about your mom was a step too far.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and willed your tears away, you hadn’t talked about your mom in years and the team knew why but Bucky didn’t.
You stood up abruptly and walked back to your room without another word spoken, locking your door behind you and collapsing on your bed as you think about your mom.
Bucky saw the look in your eye at the mention of your mom and he immediately felt guilty. He believed you genuinely hated him and he returned the favor because it’s easy to hate someone who hates you.
“Good job, Buck.” Steve rolls his eyes, knowing just how sensitive the topic is for you. Steve didn’t understand why you and Bucky didn’t get along. Bucky joked and laughed with the other girls and even went out to the club with the boys, but with you, he was a different person.
“You’re an asshole, Barnes.” Nat piped up from her seat.
“Steve, help me fix it.” Bucky pleads, not knowing what to do.
“Why Buck? So you can continue to throw insults towards her?” Steve places his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “You know, I’m so sick of the two of you bickering and hurting each other. We’re the Avengers. We’re supposed to be a team! Instead, I got you two down each other’s throats!“
“I don’t hate her Steve.” Bucky’s voice was so quiet that Steve wasn’t sure he heard him correctly.
“What?” He leans his ear more towards Bucky’s mouth to hear him more clearly.
“I’ve never hated her. I love her and I just don’t-I fucked everything up.” Bucky runs his hands through his hair and tugs on the roots painfully.
“What about this Holly girl?”
“There is no Holly. She’s just a friend to make Y/N jealous.”
“You’re such a jerk. Here’s what you are gonna do…”
It was evening and you still hadn’t emerged from your room. You had actually been rocking back and forth on your bed, whispering “I’m so sorry mom” over and over. Your heart clenches in pain as you remember her final days before that fucking disease took her away from you. You’ve never been the same since and you’re not sure you ever will be.
“I miss you.” You whisper as another round of sobs rack out of your chest as you clutch your memorial necklace tightly in your fingers.
A loud knock on the door catches your attention and you wipe your eyes with the sleeves of your hoodie as you go and unlock the door, thinking it’s Steve or even Wanda coming to check on you.
“You’ve been crying.” A gruff voice laced with guilt says as the man responsible for your heartache stands in front of you, looking over your features.
“What the hell do you want, James?” Bucky winces at your tone.
“I just wanted to-” you try to shut the door on him, but his foot stops you from doing that. Instead, he pushes the door open and forces you back. Knowing he won’t go away anytime soon, you go back over to your bed and sit down, playing with the hem of your hoodie and keeping your gaze to the floor.
The bed dips gently next to you, and you feel cold fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver.
“I’m so sorry, doll.” He whispers. “I really never meant to hurt you.” He sniffles, wishing he could turn back time.
“Don’t you have a date with your girlfriend?” You ask bitterly, ignoring his apology.
“Is that jealousy I hear in ya voice?” He teases slightly.
“No.” You shrug slightly, sniffling and wiping your nose with your sleeve.
“I do care about you, doll,” Bucky whispers, leaning closer to you. “I don’t mean any of the insults I say. I just-I know you hate me and I don’t blame you but-”
“I don’t hate you.”
“You don’t?” He asks, eyes wide in surprise.
“Not at all. It was just a joke.”
“I don’t hate you either.” He smiles softly and for the first time, you meet his gaze. His eyes are full of sadness as he searches your soul. “I’m sorry for everything I said. I never wanted to hurt you. Please, if you’ll let me I’ll make it up to you.” He strokes your cheek gently.
“How are you going to do that?” You wonder curiously.
“Well, I’m gonna run you a bubble bath. Make some hot chocolate and invite you to my room for a movie and cuddle night.”
You frown as you think over his words.
“A bath because I smell right?” Reminding him of his recent insult.
Bucky shakes his head no.
“You smell really great all the time. I have a hard time keeping myself together when you’re in the room because I wanna kiss and taste every inch of your soft skin. Like I said doll, I don’t know why I say half of the shit I say because none of it is fuckin’ true. But I mean it when I say I’m sorry and I’m serious I wanna make it up to you and make you feel good, make you happy. I have feelings for you and I will never hurt you again. I promise.”
And you don’t know what you were thinking - chances are you probably weren’t but you leaned up and caught his lips with yours. Relishing in his taste of peppermint and sandalwood. Bucky reciprocated, angling his head to kiss you deeper. His fingers snaking under your hoodie and grazing your hips. A gasp escapes your lips at the different temperatures of his hand, and Bucky takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips, moaning at the way you taste.
Bucky reluctantly pulls away for air and rests his forehead against yours, smiling softly at you.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He whispers, his breath fanning against your swollen lips. “Will you be my girl, doll?”
“Do you promise to never hurt me?”
“I cross my heart. I’ll make it up to you, for every single thing I have ever said to you, I’ll make it right. You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”
“I need a date first Buck.” You tease, pulling away from him slightly but he still has a firm grip on your hips.
“Come to my room tonight at 8 pm? I’ll set up a dinner and movie date for the two of us?” He asks hopefully.
“Alright.” You agree, knowing he’ll keep his word and make it up to you. He pecks your lips a final time and stands up.
“I’ll see you soon.” He says, walking over to your door. His hand hovering above the doorknob. “Oh and doll?” He looks over his shoulder and you hum in response. “Don’t wear underwear.” He winks, walking out. A small laugh escapes you and you hide your face with your sleeves as embarrassment washes over you at how forward he is.
Permanent Taglist: @buckysmischief @stuckonjbbarnes @sebbbystaaan @valkyriesryde @mypassionsarenysins @honeyvbarnes @stateoflovinged @tuesdays-are-for-bobby @photography-to-all @dark-night-sky-99 @veganfangirl5 @infj-slytherclaw @imma-new-soul @hailqueenconquer @mood-pancakes @seb-be-holding-these-tatas @seb-owns-these-tatas @margoshanotherwriter @iheartsebastianstan @lovvliies @buckysdumbmetalarm @livylou3333 @marvelsangels @donnaintx @crushedbyhyperbole @teamcap4bucky @zeilenkrieg @itsunclebucky
And tagging because I love these people: @babiiface95 @perpetually-tuned-out @pinnedandneedled @captain-kelli @captainchrisstan @capandbuckylvr @simsadventures @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @smutsonian @jobean12-blog@sebastiansloserclub @buckythewhitewolfx @this-kitten-is-smitten @babblingbonky @a-mess-of-fandoms @hey-its-grey @the-ss-horniest-book-club @littledarlinhavefaithinme @godofplumsandthunder @criminal-cookies
#sims1kcelebration#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky fluff#bucky imagine#bucky fic#bucky x you#bucky barns x reader#bucky barns imagine#bucky barnes angst#angst with a happy ending#writing challenge#mushyjellybeans#steve rogers#asshole!bucky#bucky angst#marvel#marvel fic#mcu imagine#mcu#x reader#the winter solider fanfiction#the winter solider imagine#bucky imagines#imagine#one shot#one shots
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Survey #420
lol blaze it (i’m funny i swear)
In your opinion, which fast food place has the best fries? Without a doubt, Bojangle's. Good. Shit.
Are there hurricanes where you live? Yeah, they're common here.
What do you hate the most about yourself? I'd really rather not get into this right about now.
What song are you listening to right now? "Beast of Gévaudan" by Powerwolf.
What was your first concert? Alice Cooper. Also my only concert.
What’s your favorite Johnny Depp movie? Alice In Wonderland.
Who did you last say “I love you” to? My sister.
Do you like pumpkin pie? Anything pumpkin-flavored is a hell no from me.
Do you know anyone named Austin? Knew, rather.
Do you know anyone who is having a baby? My friend recently announced she and her husband are having their second child in December.
What was the last thing you cried about? Just PTSD.
Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk? I like both, but I prefer chocolate.
Do you think you are an argumentative person? Definitely not.
How many deep dark secrets do you have? Two or so, idk.
What was the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten? Some wings at Buffalo Wild Wings with one of the hottest sauces. Wanted to die. ... Yet I continued to get that one whenever I went for years lmao.
Who last called you sexy? I don't know.
Would you class yourself as a good role model? In some ways, but in a lot of other ways, no.
Are you scared of the dark? No.
Do you have a motto? No.
Who did you last see on webcam? The doctor that overlooks my TMS progress.
Do you need a haircut? I need a trim for sure.
How would you react if your mother told you that she was pregnant again? Well, considering 1.) she's way past menopause and especially 2.) she's had a complete hysterectomy, y'know... that's kind of impossible. She also hasn't been with a guy in many years, so she would have to be joking.
You log into Facebook and see the red ‘1’ notification next to the message icon. Who do you want it to be? -___-
Would you rather exercise alone or with other people? ALONE. You will NOT see me exercise in front of other people.
What is the most difficult or involved video game you’ve ever played? The most involved is DEFINITELY World of Warcraft, and I guess you could consider it the hardest too, given some of the much more difficult things I've done in it. It itself isn't a hard game whatsoever, but you can pursue some really hard achievements.
Ever watch the show Supernatural? If you have, then what’s your favorite episode? I used to love it, but just stopped watching eventually. My fave episode... Man, it's been too long to remember many. Probably one of the funnier ones. I remember I specifically liked the bit where they were in your everyday comedy show, as well as the one where I THINK Dean kept trying to prevent Sam from dying. I just remember the "Eye of the Tiger" bit that is pure gold.
Ever heard of flavored honey? If so, what’s you’re favorite flavor? Oh, no, but that sounds good.
Do you remember what your favorite show was when you were little? Yeah, Pokemon.
Do you put anything besides cheese on grilled cheese sandwiches? Besides butter, which I think is pretty standard, no.
When it comes to books, what do you think is the “perfect” amount of pages? Uh, I dunno. It depends on the book. I don't really care about page numbers.
Would you ever be interested in going scuba diving? Yeah.
Out of all of your friends/relatives, who would you say has the best vocabulary? Girt, probably.
Are any of your fingers or toes deformed? What about the nails? I don't think so?
When is the last time you cried? I was sobbing earlier today, fun stuff.
Would you ever date somebody that has been divorced more than once? Most likely not. ESPECIALLY at my age.
What are some stereotypically nerdy things that you like? Oh god. WoW, M:tG, big glasses, anime (does that count? idk really), video games... a lot of stuff, really.
Have you ever attended a wedding that ended where the bride and groom didn’t actually get married? What happened? Y I K E S, no. That would be SO uncomf.
What scares you the most about becoming a mother (hypothetically, if you don’t want to have children)? Actually raising it properly, physically and emotionally.
Would you ever want a job in fashion? What would you enjoy about that type of job? No.
Would you ever be a surrogate mother? No.
What do you think would be the best and worst parts about being a twin? It'd be cool to have someone you feel an almost supernatural connection towards, but I'd also feel like I wasn't as "original" as I would be if I was born alone.
Do you feel that your childhood was more rough compared to others around you? I mean it wasn't awful at all, but sure, in some ways compared to at least someone.
How would you react if you found out today that you were actually adopted? Well today I'm a wreck, so don't tell me. I want to know that I wasn't lied to for 25 years.
Have either of your parents ever cheated on one another before, that you know of? How would you react if you found out today that one of them cheated? I'm not entirely clear on this, but I'm 90% sure Dad cheated on Mom with his now-wife. Dad also accused Mom of cheating, but I HIGHLY doubt that's true.
Do you like cleaning and organizing? Not really.
How would you react if you found out you were infertile? If you don’t plan on having kids to begin with, what is a long-term goal you’d be crushed to find out was impossible to achieve? Fuck having kids. I'd be a terrible mother. So to answer the other question, I'll be pretty, pretty sad if I can't get permission to spread Teddy's ashes at Yellowstone.
Would you take your dream job if it were out of the country? Well, obviously not considering my dream job is a meerkat biologist, and I'm not moving to Africa.
Have you ever been robbed? No.
Is anyone close to you an alcoholic? Not anymore. Dad was, but he's recovered.
Have you ever dumped anyone? Yes.
What kind of tea do you drink? I hate tea.
Do you know anyone in a gang? No, and I hope I never do.
What’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you? Risk his fucking sanity and health to try to hold my fucked up self up.
What is your orientation? Gay? Straight? Metrosexual? Anything other? Bisexual. I've kinda been questioning pansexual of the late, though. I don't know.
Have you ever done anything really dangerous or illegal with friends? Not to my memory.
Name three feelings you’re feeling right now: Regret. Hopelessness. Loneliness.
And the reasons for these feelings? Take a wild fuckin' guess.
How do you feel about your life right now? It's an actual dumpster fire.
Is it easy for you to like yourself? Why or why not? Fuck no. Because there's just not very much TO like about me. Even on my good days, I see flaw after flaw in myself.
What subjects come naturally to you? English, some aspects of science.
What subjects do not? Math, economics, politics, history...
Do you read more fiction or more non-fiction books? Definitely fiction. When I read a book, I want an escape from the real world.
How has today been for you? BOY HOWDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What did you do? Went to TMS therapy. Sat on the Internet. Cried. :^)
Are there any candles lit in the room you’re in? No.
Are there any lava lamps near you? No. I want one, though.
Do you like cats or dogs better? Cats.
Are any of your friends a pothead? Yes.
What’s a goal you’re trying to accomplish soon? Start losing weight again. That'd be pretty goddamn grand.
Are you a high maintenance person? Definitely not.
The last time you yelled as loud as you could, what was the reason? I was having a nightmare.
Have you ever been heartbroken? For sure.
Who did that to you? First Dad, then Jason.
Did you go through an ugly stage as a kid? Boy, did I.
The last type of sandwich you made or ate: A pb&j.
The last time you spent most of the day in bed: Literally every day. I do just about everything in bed. Pathetic, I know.
The last friend or acquaintance you made: Ummmm idk.
The last thing you took pictures of: A hydrangea bush.
The last time you were scared: Now. The future is terrifying, my friend.
The last thing you looked up online: The definition of a word to ensure I was using it correctly.
The last thing you disagreed with: So I've been watching John Wolfe's old stream of him playing Alice: Madness Returns, and he went on a total soapbox about smoking being okay essentially because we're all gonna die eventually from something, and I really disagreed with it.
Does your house have a separate laundry room? No, just like a closet.
Do your parents still help you financially? I'm still entirely dependent on them.
Does your car have a backup camera? No.
Have either of your parents ever been in trouble with the law? Not to my knowledge.
Have you ever had a pet that lived to be really old for its breed/species? REALLY old, no. Teddy was definitely up there, but beagles have lived longer.
What was the last strong scent you smelled? Lysol.
Have you ever told someone to their face that they were ugly? Christ, no.
Is your bed against more than one of your walls? No.
Have you ever been attracted to someone’s parent? Don't think so?
Have you ever pole danced before? No.
Have you ever broken into someone’s house? No.
Have you ever seen a live bat? Yes.
What is the most amount of money you’ve spent on a meal before? I dunno.
Have you ever taken a woodshop class? No.
How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? Funny you ask, because as of today I decided to take a break from it for awhile. I've found it's nothing more than a breeding ground for envy and making me feel like a horribly incompetent adult.
Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? I had one photography teacher in college that I was NOT a fan of. He was super, super hard on everyone, like to an unnecessary degree. We were students, not pros.
Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? No.
Are your parents supportive of you? Somehow.
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hear me out: he would behave in an olive garden, but ONLY because before ya'll went inside, you bet him like $50 that he couldnt do it
Oh my god I couldn’t just leave this in my inbox without writing some sort of quick fic- (and wow i took writing this too seriously send help)
“Bo. You couldn’t behave your ass in here if your life depended on it.” That earned a fake surprised sputter from Bo. “Oh really?” You nodded, folding your arms. “I bet you 50 dollars you can’t behave for one night.”
He clicked his tongue, tilting the bill of his hat down. “50 bucks, eh? I’ll fuckin’ do it.” You shook your head, locking the car as you walked towards the restaurant. “I wouldn’t be so sure of yourself Mr. Sinclair.” You heard his annoyed huffs, smiling to yourself. He couldn’t do it. You were sure.
You pushed open the glass doors, the smell of breadsticks making your mouth water. Bo followed, still pissed off. “I ain’t been here in ages...” He crossed his legs and folded his arms, letting you do the talking to get a table.
Once y’all had been seated, Bo leaned back, a shit eating grin on his face. “What's the grin for, dumbass?” You teased, reaching for your water. “Oh, nothin’, jus’ the fact that I’m gonna win an’ prove ya wrong.” He chuckled, adjusting his hat.
Mhm. Yea. Sure.
The waiter arrived after about 3 minutes of waiting, setting down 2 menus. Bo lolled his head to one side, mumbling under his breath. “’Bout time damnit.” Immediately shooting him a glare, you piped up before he could say anything. “Our bet?”
That shut him up. For now, at least. You ordered your food, asking Bo what he would like. He sat up from his hunched over position, sighing whilst flipping through the menu pages. “I dunno...” You sighed, grabbing your drink while he tried deciding. “Ah fuck it- I’ll get whatever you’re gettin’, darlin’.”
You shot him another glare, this time clenching your fists the slightest bit. “Bo, there are children here.” Carefully tilting your head to the family of four behind you, you put on a fake smile. Your tone was frightening, causing him to roll his eyes like an annoyed teen. “So what if they hear the word fuck- I mean they’re gonna hear it ‘ventually why do I gotta-”
Fishing into your pocket, you held up the 50 dollar bill. “Because you want to be a good role model, don’t you Beauregard?” He was steaming. You could see the frustration and anger in his eyes. You expected him to flip the table right about now.
Bo leaned back with an awful fake smile, clasping his hands together on the table. “Why yes, yes I do.” You quickly clapped your hands, shoving the 50 dollars back into your pocket. “Good.” You knew deep down he was pissed as hell, but you didn’t say anything about it.
The waiter took your order, hurrying off to the kitchen. He finally could drop the act. Before he did, you held a finger in front of his face. “Ah ah ah! Keep it to yourself if you think Vincent wouldn’t approve of you saying it.” Bo brought a hand down on the table, almost at his breaking point.
“I don’t give two f-” You stopped him quickly. “What did I say, Beauregard?” Now he was really pissed off. You were pushing his buttons now and he knew it. But Bo wasn’t one to turn down money. He just realized he had fallen into your trap.
He huffed angrily again, forced to keep his mouth shut for once. You had finished your drink, waiting patiently for the waiter to come with your food. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Bo stick his leg outside the booth.
A feral child who seemed parentless was going apeshit and running around tables. You knew exactly what Bo was planning to do. Lowering your voice, you shoved your hand back in your pocket to grab the 50 dollar bill, “Don’t. You. Dare.”
Bo turned to face you, about to cuss you out for fucking up his plans. Your hand shot up, waving the money. With another pissed off huff, he folded his arms and covered his face with his hat. Why’d you have to ruin all his fun?
The waiter returned with your food, sliding you yours before sliding Bo his. You thanked them, smiling as you did. When you turned back to face Bo, he was already neck deep in his food. Sauce was dripping from his nose, his fingers all dirtied up.
Even though you knew he hadn’t been to a real restaurant in years, you still went ‘mom mode’ on him. “Bo!! What the hell is wrong with you?!” You reached forward, wiping off his face before he could protest.
“More like what the hell’s wrong with YOU.” Bo shot back. You had sat back in your chair, gesturing to the mess all over his side of the table. “Why’re you eating like you’re a damn animal?!” It would be impossible to win a fight with Bo but you tried anyway.
But then you remembered about your secret weapon. Fumbling for the money at lightning speed, you held it in your hand. He was going to blow over and frankly, he didn’t care about the whole restaurant of people that would hear him.
Your money bribe instantly stopped him. He rolled his eyes, picking up his utensils to eat properly. Since you now had some peace and quiet, you finished your meal and had one last drop of water.
Bo was almost done, and you could tell he still had an attitude. At least you got him to eat the right way and keep his mouth shut. When he finished, you took the bill from the waiter.
He then took it from you, mumbling to himself as he slid the money into it. You smiled, standing up and taking his hand. As you neared the car, you pulled him closer and into a quick cheek kiss.
“Thank you, for at least trying to behave.” You handed him the 50 dollars and he instantly perked up. “Thank ya, sugar.”
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IV. I’m in the mood for love
Summary: Beyond the sass and the crass lies a tender moment
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes
A/N: Maybe I wrote myself into a pickle? Idk but I teared up a little at the end. Also this is the most politics I’ll ever put in my work-- let’s keep it civil and chill if we disagree.
Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost
It’s a miracle that you had worked up the courage to trot downstairs to return the only covering that separated two bare-ass naked men from your eyes. And not to mention yourself, who was only covered in a towel, too.
You make Steve stand so far around the corner of the doorframe that all he can do is stick out his hand. Bucky rustles the shower curtain impatiently and makes a comment on how “non-hyperverbal” you’re being and you’re too nervous to even respond back. When Buckyeye starts looking at you and the swinging white hem at your shins, you shoo him up the stairs before he gets any other bright ideas.
“Didn’t know you were such a prude.” Bucky comments later as you fiddle around in the kitchen, “But I guess it makes sense-- you still have those stuffed animals on your bed.”
You bristle and glare at him, “Just because you didn’t have a childhood doesn’t mean I can’t.”
It’s a little too mean, and you hear the venom that shoots right into him as soon as it leaves your mouth. “Sorry.” You comment. Damn it. He grew up in the fuckin’ Great Depression where everything was dusty and shit.
“Not all of us can travel the world eating caviar at the ripe age of four.” Bucky snarls. Ugh. Why’d he have to do that?
“Oh, fuck you.” You retort the same time Steve sharply calls Bucky’s name to reel him back in. It doesn’t work, as Steve knows, because when you and Bucky get into it—you get into it.
“You wish, princess. Wait, you’re such a goddamn prude, anyway--”
All Steve can do is cross his fingers and bark, “Buck!”
It’s too late. You’re across the room before Steve can say much else and you’ve launched yourself over one empty couch and straight into Bucky sitting on the other. The force knocks it slightly and it teeters before flopping back with a muffled thud.
Buckeye begins to run around in circles, unsure of the kind of play this particular moment is.
You have no idea what you’re doing, and you doubt you even want to—or can-- hurt him in any way, but you are so finished with his bullshit. You death-grip his hair as you jab both knees into his abdomen. Bucky moves to rip you off, but you clamp your teeth over his wrist and he yelps.
“Fuck you!” You scream, “fuck you so much! I—ow! I fucking apologized, you—Ugh!”
Buckeye, ever the perfect audience member, begins to bark to the rhythm of your screeching and aggressively nudges Bucky’s foot with his snout.
Soldat’s metal hand pushes your face back until its tilted up to the ceiling and further beyond, precariously suspended. The only thing keeping you from cracking your skull on the coffee table is your clinging to his hair. Steve’s concerned expression is upside down and his arms are outstretched, trying to determine the right configuration to pry the two of you apart. “Get that fucking! Aluminum foil finger the fuck away fr---”
“Shut up!” Bucky’s palm smashes against your mouth as his legs wrap around your back until you’re a squished human pretzel inside of him. You’re too crushed even to make any sounds and behind you Steve is sputtering vowels and consonants but not stringing together any real words. Finally, he nearly shrieks,
“Bucky! Jesus! You’re gonna actually kill her!”
Yep. This is how you’re gonna go, you think. The Winter Fucking Soldier has officially had enough of your bullshit, too, and he is going to bear-hug you to death. Who would have thunk it? Your fingers disengage and fall uselessly over his arms.
When time begins to slow and your soul starts to yeet itself from your body, Bucky blessedly lets go. “You’re bluer than I was in cryo.” He sneers.
Steve gasps, scandalized by the comment. For whatever reason, he’s covered Buckeye’s ears, too. You would send him an incredulous look, but you can’t feel your face.
With a pathetic whistle of air, you flop backwards and hang upside down over the couch, thighs gripped tightly by Bucky, heaving deep breaths until your lungs feel like they might burst through your rib cage. No wonder you are not a superhero—fuck the hubris, you are physically not built for this shit.
“I think I’m gonna vomit.” You mutter when Steve’s face begins to spin alongside your dog who slobbers all over your nose. Bucky yanks you up by the front of your shirt and the cough that blasts from your mouth goes right into his face. His smug expression twists into one of disgust and you take the moment to waggle your eyebrows suggestively.
Your sour mood has fled and now that you’re absolutely sure you cannot kick his ass—you return to the one thing you do know you’re capable of:
“Hey, baby. Is that a glock in your pants or are you just really happy to see me?”
To drive your point home, you bounce on his lap with a wide grin, wiggling your butt in exaggerated motions.
“Okay! That’s enough!”
Steve scoops you up and plants you back on the other side of the coffee table. “That’s too smart! Too smart!” He scolds as you pat your bottom and then curtsy. Bucky only huffs and crosses his arms, refusing to meet your gaze. Ha-ha. Winter Soldier, meet your match—Ass Woman. No, that just sounds like a porno.
“Alright, fuckers.” You declare, stepping over to the built-in bookshelf around the flatscreen and retrieving a leather-bound copy of The Wizard of Oz. “Ready for chili?”
They watch you open the front and stick your hand inside the false pages and retrieve a roll of bills. “What?” You ask nonchalantly. “Oh—shut up, Barnes. Like you guys really need me to pay back the vet fees. Technically, my tax dollars pay you.”
Steve shakes his head no. So, you casually toss him the roll of cash and then pull out another one.
“Jesus! Will you put these back?”
“Look,” You say, “For every month I don’t come home my mother puts another wad in this box.” You show them the pile of rolled bills, each encased in varying sizes of rubber bands. “She thinks it’ll ensnare me, but joke’s on her, the more I’m away the more there is to spend. She’s not very smart—a consequence of never having to think for herself.”
“And you’re fine with spending it?” Bucky ponders. The relationship you have with your family grows more confusing the longer they spend in your parents’ house. The memorabilia littered in your childhood bedroom seems to suggest that you aren’t completely detached from your family or your childhood. The way you respond to being home is paradoxical, too—disgusted at the excess one minute, reveling in it the next.
“It’s just fucking money. They make so much of it. I couldn’t bankrupt them if I tried. My father has offshore accounts in the fucking Caymans. I literally could not.”
They both pause before Steve speaks up, “Are you an only child?”
You frown. “No.” Then you aggressively push him by the shoulder and toward the exit, motioning for Bucky to follow. “It’s fucking Skyline time.”
Suddenly, you pause at the door and turn around to put both your hands on your hips. Looking both of them up and down, you shake your head impatiently. Steve is wearing his civilian Captain America outfit again. And Bucky, honestly, Bucky looks like someone cosplaying Bucky.
“Who dressed you?” You demand, exasperated, “You guys like, do spy stuff? It’s baffling to me that you don’t get caught immediately. Steve—khakis?”
Upon being admonished, he scoffs and looks around, “What’s wrong with my khakis?”
“Will you please tell him something?” You ask Bucky, who only rolls his eyes as if to say, you’re fuckin’ telling me. When it’s obvious that Steve’s poor choices are solely the result of him being an old fuck with no fashion sense, you mumble. “At least switch shirts. I’m going to take Buckeye out… please… fix this.”
-
When you come back, the sight of Steve wearing black and Bucky wearing light blue is so discomforting you cover Buckeye’s eyes. “It’s okay, boy.” You whisper loudly. Bucky flips you off but fixes the hem of the shirt he’s sporting. Steve—for whatever inexplicable reason, has decided to tuck… You quickly yank his shirt from his waistband and shake your head. “Christ, why are you like this?”
--
Untucked and uncomfortable in black, Steve looks at the menu as if the letters on it were runes from an ancient past. He doesn’t understand at all what Skyline Chili is or why it is. They’re coneys—this he does understand. But the rest of it—nope. Why would anyone ever need that much cheese? Bucky mirrors his sentiment by shutting the menu and crossing his arms.
The small bowl of oyster crackers in the middle of the table is being torn apart as you shovel handful after handful into your mouth. There is an inordinate amount of hot sauce sprayed on the top of the crisps, and you wipe your hands haphazardly on a napkin when you’re finished.
“Okay. You feelin’ spag or nah?” You ask, not even looking up. “Spagbol.” You continue, “Spag-y. SPAGHETS!” Then, in a terrible and very offensive Italian rendition, you pinch your fingers together and enunciate, “Its-a-spha-ghetta!”
Bucky slumps down into the booth until you stop. Steve puts his hand over his eyes.
“Why would you put chili on spaghetti noodles?” Bucky hisses.
The waitress arrives right after his question and you reach over to take his hands into your own— still reeking of peppers and vinegar from the hot sauce. “Shh,” You say almost tenderly, “Adults are talking now.”
“I hope you rub your eyes with that hand later.” Bucky snarls.
“I’ll cup your balls with it, instead.” You respond.
The waitress whimpers at the conversation she’s just stumbled into.
--
Six coneys arrive and as well as two plates of spaghetti. You explain to the boys that the Skyline specialty is steamed buns, mustard, special secret spice chili, raw onions, and hella shredded cheese. The noodles come with the same, sans mustard, and if you’re feeling extra frisky— beans. One plate is extra frisky today. Then you unscrew the cap to the hot sauce and shake the shit out of it onto everything.
They are bewildered at the sheer excess of American consumption as you shove almost half a coney into your face. Cheese flops down onto your plate.
“I think I’m gonna vomit.” Steve whimpers.
“Big baby, wimpy, Stevie can’t eat the cheesy?” Between mouthfuls, you’re still a dick. “Just try it! What are you, six?”
He glares at you and then sends a puppy-dog look to Bucky who already is lifting a coney to his face. You take another bite and watch them do the same.
Immediately, Steve coughs. Bucky starts laughing so hard he drops the pile of shredded cheese all over the table. You tuck into the overflowing plate of spaghetti, hot noodles melting the cheddar on top into an amalgam of gooey yellow. “I can’t do it.” Steve groans, “This isn’t right. This isn’t what God wanted.”
“God is dead, bitch.” You reply, “There is only Skyline Chili.”
--
“So what’s your deal?” Bucky asks from the couch.
The three of you have returned back to the house, winding down for the night. It’s eight now, and you’ve driven them around the city just to show them the sights. The gentrified downtown with its bustling crowd of young, white party-people interspersed with streets of dilapidated buildings and homelessness. There’s a bitterness to your voice when you talk about the changing scenery—but a kind of sadness, too. You admit you don’t really know the solution. The business brings in money to the city, but all the people left behind are really getting left behind.
You show them the more relaxed areas, like Over the Rhine and point out its massive brewery. You promise to take them there soon. There’s also the famous Cincinatti Zoo, and King’s Island, where you swear is better than where Steve wanted to go- Coney Island #2. There’s no point in taking him there, you declare when he starts to sputter, because he only wants to go to shit all over it, and because King’s Island is way cooler.
“What do you mean?” You ask back, flipping through the stations with your feet propped up on the coffee table. Steve and Bucky are sitting side-by-side under a blanket. There is a bowl of chips and hummus shared in their laps since Steve refused to eat during dinner and is now very cranky.
“All of this. Excess. Money. And then... you.” he waves to the house, then to you, sprawled out carelessly on a leather couch in mismatched pajamas. Buckeye’s head is faithfully in your lap, big eyes peering up at you, as if he’s waiting for an explanation too.
“You hating on my penguin top and pumpkin bottoms or what?”
“C’mon...” Steve beckons, knowing that your deflection is just another cop-out.
So, you groan, because they’re teaming up on you and after almost three months it’s bound to happen. They’ve told you so much about themselves already. You’ve learned all about the personal lives of the Commandos, the war stories, serums and experimentations, the cryo, the trial after the Triskelion... the blood, and sweat, and all of Steve Rogers’ tears.
“Well... it’s not as exciting as you think it is.” You mutter, tugging on Buckeye’s ear, finding the texture comforting under their persistent gaze. “Just a dumb girl born into an obscene family.”
But you tell them, truthfully and genuinely. Your family has old money- oil, or steel, probably both. As a result, you grew up in the lap of luxury, private schools, language programs, singing classes, dance lessons, horseback riding, trips to Europe and Asia, enormous birthday parties and a line of suitors as soon as you started growing breasts. The worst part, you admit, is that you loved it.
The picture they picked up in your room was from junior prom, and the date was a boyfriend- family friend- you’d been with for about six months, and he already planned on proposing. That was just how it was. Rich people marrying other rich people continuing the line of one-percenters.
Really, you say, your family was maybe the 10 percenter-range. As rich as maybe low A-list movie stars, not quite Jeff Bezos. But you know him, too.
“What changed?” Steve wonders out loud for both him and Bucky.
“Living in New York.” You half-smile at the memory of Union. “After Ohio State, I went to Union for my graduate studies and it blew my shit wide open. But that’s what happens when you start opening yourself up to other realities.”
You tell them about the immense struggle the first year at Union, feeling ostracized and realizing that your life is nothing like most peoples’ lives, and then beginning to frame your understanding of the world in a different way. You tell them you got mugged once and you felt like you probably deserved it.
“Then the election happened.” You sigh, and they both groan at the reminder. “As you know... it’s just been downhill and fucked. We had a big falling out here over Thanksgiving holiday.”
You didn’t come home in almost two years. You took out loans, you worked two jobs, took a full course load and wrote a thesis, and then went on to your Doctoral program. Your parents reached out to you and you eventually came half-way back into the fold.
“And spending their money?”
Most of the money you get you give to the local shelters. “That’s just direct action, baby.” You laugh. “We go at it, all the time. But you know, I figure... If I have to live in this shit world, might as well be a bastard about it.”
That earns a hearty chuckle from both your guests. “Jesus, that explains a lot.” Bucky grins as you nuzzle Buckeye and plant a kiss on his wrinkly face.
It feels so much better now that you’ve aired all the dirty, 1000-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.
Steve hops up from the couch and runs downstairs, “Be right back!” He yells. You and Bucky narrow your eyes at the trail he’s padded into the carpet. In the distance, you can hear his rummaging and then thumping footsteps back up into the living room. He’s perfectly in one piece, because he’s Captain Damn America and nearly flying up a flight of stairs ain’t shit.
“I figured this would happen.” He grins, holding up a metal flask. “It’s time to break out the Asgardian mead.”
--
The three of you are drunk on whiskey and space-juice, tumbling around the downstairs living room. You are banging on the piano keys, tapping out a stuttering and off-kilter rendition of The Magic School Bus theme song while they wrestle. Why is it that no matter how old boys get, they still love to wrestle? Around their legs is Buckeye, running around in circles and panting, like a racecar at the Indy—only making left turns, having the time of his life.
“Get a fuckin’ ROOM!” You scream, throwing another shot down.
“You mean your room?” Steve laughs back, head under Bucky’s arm, tapping uselessly on his ribs.
“Captain America, fuckin’ in my room. Carve that on my grave, baby.” You mutter, as the piano lid slams down and you take a bow, knocking the bench over with a crash. “Oops.”
“Thas direct action, baby.” Bucky parrots you, “You’re so fucking lame.”
Buckyeye leaps into the air and licks him on the face. “Fuck!”
“Yeah, defend my honor, Buck!” You whoop. “Not you!” You point to Bucky, who flicks you off with a cackling laugh. The sound of it flutters into your ears like a ghost- leaving cold trails down your back. Suddenly, you get an idea.
“Hey-- you guys on Twitter?”
--
They sit crosslegged on the floor flanking you as you scroll determinedly through what seems to be endless tweets. There are other tabs open, too, of compilations of these. Thirsttweets, you explain. The internet loves and wants to bone the hell out of Captain America. Some of them want the Soldier there too—just watching, apparently.
Steve is seventeen shades of red and a little bit of purple. Bucky keeps cursing under his breath and at one point, you think, is reciting Hail Mary. It’s a million times worse than your playlist.
Who’s Got the Biggest Dick in Baseball is nothing compared to captain america could spit into my mouth and id say thank you
“I would never!” Steve gasps. “Or that!”
The tweet in question says: ruin my life big dorito daddy
“What does that mean?” Bucky groans, a little ruffled by all the lewd attention Steve is getting.
“His back is shaped like a Dorito, duh. Don’t get jealous, big boy. You’re next.”
For whatever reason, Bucky’s tweets are way worse. Maybe it’s his persona—that redeemed baddie type of thing. People eat that shit up like chips and dip—and apparently want to eat him too.
As long as I have a face, Winter Soldier has a seat
rearrange my guts, Sargeant Sexy
When will James Buchanan Barnes put his fist in me? WHEN?
I didn’t know I was into getting choked until I saw that metal arm.
You snort whiskey into your lungs in the middle of reading one out loud and spend the next five minutes with your insides on fire. Steve has his head in Bucky’s lap and there are tears coming out of his eyes both from Bucky’s clenched jaw and you, crumpled into a heap spewing amber.
--
A jazz tune belts out from the surround sound system. Steve has picked a Music Choice station from the seemingly endless list of cable possibilities and of course, being a nostalgic thing, chose Swingers — wait, Singers and Swing. Your brain is loopy with joy.
“Didn’t you say you took dance lessons?” Steve asks nonchalantly.
“Uh-huh,” you sigh on the floor, legs crossed over Buckeye as you pull him down on your tummy. Rolling side to side with you, your dog begins to groan and flop, aggravated at your antics.
“You know, Buck used to dance.”
“Uh-huh, you sure did, didn’t you, big baby?” You kiss Buckeye on the nose.
“Bucky. Bucky, not Buckeye.”
He returns from the restroom with his hair pulled away from his face, changed into a long sleeved soft shirt and sweats. “What?”
“You used to dance!” Steve urges with a flick of his wrist, “Get on out there!” He waves his finger to the carpeted living space where you are spread-eagled, trying your best to keep your dog next to you. Damn it, you want cuddles!
“You want me to lead her? Stevie, I couldn’t lead the girl to water if she were a horse.”
“I am not a whore!” You cry indignantly, shooting up from the carpet and knocking Buckeye over with a yelp.
“A horse! Jesus H. Christ, ya deaf!”
You probably are, you think, as the music slurs itself into one long whine. Bucky grabs you by the hand anyway, determined to prove some point to Steve. He turns you around until you face him and takes a second to start on the right beat.
It’s like a switch has flipped and he becomes all step and sway as he moves to the music, leading you, too. Some vestigial memory digs its way out of your muscles from all those damn dance lessons and your feet point and tap along with him, hips rocking when he spins you around and pulls you back. A grin slowly breaks across his face, big and lopsided, all teeth.
You feel like a little puppet in complete submission to him as he expertly uses the perfect amount of momentum to change your course.
Laughter bursts forth from your mouth as you whirl dizzily around Bucky, hands clamped tightly in both of his. The room is a blur of colors and the blue of Steve’s eyes, watching.
At one point, you stand hip-to-hip side-by-side and kick your feet together before he takes you by the waist and dips you low. You’re breathless as he laughs, mirroring your puffs of warm air from above, wild with motion— his hair slipping from behind his ear to hang over your forehead.
“Holy shit you got moves.” You proclaim as the song finishes and he tugs you up with a satisfied chuckle. A slower melody comes on and you move to return to the couch where Steve is sitting with Buckeye, but Bucky tugs you again, closer.
He places one hand behind your back, resting on the ridged thread-bare waistband of your pajama shorts, and the other one he holds up to his chest. You blink away the fuzzy spots from your eyes and peer at him, looking so far away even though he’s just inches apart. His expression has changed, dropping into something distant and removed and staring straight through you.
You see it now. He’s not Bucky anymore.
It hits you like a bag of bricks, that this is James Barnes, in all his glory as a beautiful Brooklyn boy. Out dancing with a girl. Laughing, just like this: bristled, square-jawed and cleft-chinned. Wide, pouty lips. Bright steel eyes. Before he was a soldier, he was just a boy.
Before he was The Soldier, he was just a boy.
His chest rises and falls slowly as he takes a deep breath. The crooning in the background is tender, melodic, with the singer’s sweet voice pining for her loved one accompanied by delicate plucks of a piano.
Once, too, he pined.
The tears in your eyes spill over when you press your mouth to his. Bucky lets go of your hands and you catch his face with them, instead, holding onto his head, fingers grazing his ears and neck and brushing away his hair. You kiss him as if he might be shipped out to war tomorrow. It hurts even more to know that he probably had a night just like this, in the arms of a girl he loved, right before his entire life changed.
And then, you tear away and look at the couch where Steve sits, chewing on his lip, red-eyed too. You sob uncontrollably when you rush around the table and into his arms. He wraps them around you, pushes his face down into your shoulder.
“I love you guys.” You whisper, curled up in Steve’s lap, because the story of Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter was never explicit in the history books, but you know it too. “Oh God. I’m so sorry it’s like this. I’m so sorry.”
Steve forgets sometimes, that they were ripped out of time. He forgets the torment and tearing of Bucky’s entire being. They busy themselves in tomorrow and moving forward so much that they bury how the things that made them also broke them.
You are clinging onto his shirt, crying for him now, for both of them. Two handsome soldiers, living, dying, resurrected again. Having only each other to know and hold.
Sergeant Barnes of the 107th closes his eyes and presses his lips together. When he opens them, he is Bucky Barnes of the terrible, modern age once more. He crosses the room quietly, as he always does, as he was made to do. He sits down next to Steve as you look up at him with love and sympathy and so much sadness he can’t stand it. He links his hand in yours and smiles in a way that cracks your heart right open.
“Don’t get weird, kid.” Bucky whispers with moist lashes. Your laugh is strangled when it escapes your throat, all wet and whine as you squeeze his fingers tighter.
“I love you. You don’t understand.”
Steve breathes a sigh into your shoulder and rubs his damp cheeks on the penguin print of your sleeping shirt. From next to him, Buckeye looks up quizzically and gives his arm a long, slow lick.
“Yeah, yeah,” He mutters, swatting at your dog’s snout lovingly, lips pressed into your collarbone. Then, he kisses you too, tipsy and torn open. In the background, Julie London sweetly croons:
If there’s a cloud above and it must rain, we’ll let it.
But for tonight, forget it.
I’m in the mood for love.
Next Chapter
#marvel#mcu#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes x reader#stucky x reader#steve rogers x reader x bucky#self insert#fanfiction#FiMS
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8 for Sluff please, love your account
8 - “Please, stop smiling at me like that. I’m not sure what will happen if you keep doing that.”
Thank you! Another anon also asked for 8/sluff so this is for both of you, thanks for being patient! I started this a month ago and then got totally stuck on how to finish it 😓
Duff and Slash both overshare when they’re wasted…
~~~~
You want to know how Slash and I got to be such good friends? Well, the first thing I gotta tell you is that he’s one of the nicest, coolest people I know, and he doesn’t deserve his shitty reputation, got it? The second thing, is that I was blown away when I first heard him play guitar and I wasn’t about to let a musical genius like that walk out of my life.
But the truth is (just between you and me, right?), there’s a third, final, and very important reason. You see… after Slash, Steven, the girls, and I met, we hung out, jammed a little, then of course proceeded to get absolutely obliterated. And that’s when it happened: Drunk-Duff met Drunk-Slash and the world would never be the same.
We’re the drunken dream-team. Smashed, sauced, and sloshed soulmates. The Dynamic Duo of gettin’ gazebo-ed.
You get what I’m trying to say.
It works out real well because our tolerance is about the same, and we both tend to be happy, affectionate drunks. We’re partners in crime for all kinds of insane intoxicated shenanigans, but we’ll also look after each other, you know? Or try to at least, hah.
Last night though? Things were a little different. Slash got a head start on me, so instead of Drunk-Slash-and-Duff, it was Drunk-Slash and Just-Barely-Tipsy-Duff. Which was no problem, it was great! Er, it was totally fine! I mean –
…
Okay… there’s something I didn’t tell you about me and Slash. It’s true that Drunk-Slash-and-Duff are the ultimate drinking buddy power couple. But sober? That’s another story.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re still best friends! Contrary to popular belief, we do hang out and do stuff besides drinking and drugs. But there’s one key difference that even Slash never knew about, and that is that Sober-Duff has, well, a huge fuckin’ crush on Slash.
Hey, don’t fucking judge me, dude! …He’s just a really awesome guy, okay? And good looking. I dig the hair.
Ahem.
Anyway, it could be a real problem when we were both sober, because I really had be on my toes to make sure he didn’t catch me staring or anything, you know? It’s like, I couldn’t relax because then I might start to slip up and that could mess up everything: our friendship, the band… man, I don’t even want to think about it.
But when Slash was drunk, I had nothing to worry about! He never noticed when I zoned out staring at his ass – thank god, because it’s happened a lot. And Drunk-Slash-and-Duff might be all about the platonic cuddling, but on these special occasions I get to appreciate Slash at his clingiest in a more romantic-kinda-way. I also get to appreciate how giggly he gets: I’m a sap, I know, but just seeing him smile makes me feel like I just did a whole line of shots so whenever this happens I always pull out all the stops trying to keep him in good humor.
So there I was, telling Slash every lame joke I could think of, pulling stupid faces, generally acting like a total goofball and trying to make him laugh. And it was working! Slash was a giggly mess, and I figured it was time to give us both a break. I watched him compose himself from the corner of my eye as I chugged the rest of my beer. Even in the dim light of the bar, I managed to get lost in his dark eyes as he looked at me with an exasperated smirk.
“Duff! Stop smiling at me like that!” He whined, and oops, I guess I let my gaze linger a little too long.
“What? Whyyy?” I pitched my voice up to match his tone.
“Because…” He dropped into a drunkenly serious whisper. “…I’m not sure what’ll happen if you keep doing that.”
Wait. What?
Was he saying what I thought he was saying? It’s not just me, right? It definitely sounded like he was… implying something.
But before I could ask him what he meant, another round of drinks appeared on the table and Slash was back to his cheery, thirsty self in the blink of an eye. I gotta admit, I was just as distracted by the booze – I was trying to catch up, after all – so I forgot about what he said until about twenty minutes later.
I was back on my bullshit and better than ever – I managed to get Slash to laugh just as he was about to take a swig of his beer, he snorted into the glass and suds flew everywhere! Both of us were still laughing our heads off as he whacked me in the arm and tried to find a napkin to clean himself up. Once he got the foam off his face I was determined to make him do it again: every time he tried to take a sip I’d repeat the same stupid punchline and he’d have to quickly duck away from his glass to avoid getting beer up his nose.
After my fourth or fifth attempt, Slash suddenly bounced up from his seated position to kneel on the seat of the booth so I was forced to look up at his face as he poked a scolding finger into my chest.
“I thought I told you to knock it off!”
I just laughed, it was hard to take him seriously when he was pouting like that. “I dunno what you’re talking about!”
“Nuh-uh, don’t play dumb because I know I told you to quit it! I’m jus’tryna get drunk here and you won’t stop distracting me!”
“Well then make me,” I teased.
For a split second, I thought that Slash lost his balance and was falling into me, so I put my hands up to catch him. But then, I felt his mouth on my lips.
I was stunned into helplessness as his tongue thrust between my teeth and overwhelmed my mouth. I’d wanted this for so long that I couldn’t understand it; the kiss was deep and fast and it was over before I could bring myself to lean into him and suck the taste of whiskey and cheap beer off his lips.
As I tried to catch my breath, I realized that my hands were still planted on Slash’s chest, I was practically groping him. I tried to slide my arms out of the way but at that moment, Slash decided to swing one knee over my legs so that he was straddling my thighs. He sat in my lap and scooted all the way up until his ass was right over my crotch, then put his arms on my shoulders for balance, trapping me in place with my hards grabbing his tits and my thighs glued together so he might not notice my dick starting to poke him in the ass.
I stared up at him with my eyes wide and my mouth hanging open, wondering if I was dreaming… And if I wasn’t, would he remember this the next day? Would he still want to kiss me when the liquor wore off, or would he laugh it off like the rest of the bullshit he does when he’s wasted?
Slash seemed oblivious to the questions racing through my head. He just stared down at me with a little smile, and then leaned down again to plant another deliberate, chaste kiss.
“Yeah, now you’re quiet. Where’s that grin, huh? Did you think trying to get a rise out of me wouldn’t have any consequences?” His tone was smug but his expression was still affectionate.
“Slash, what –“
“Such a tease, acting all cute like that when you know what it does to me. Fuck, even when you’re being a pain you’re still so sweet it’s unfair.”
“What – What it does??”
“Were you trying to get me to confess? ‘Cause I was trying to keep it to myself, all right? I didn’t want to screw everything up but, y’know, it’s hard when you’re always smiling at me like that.” He bit his lip, hesitating. “And I’m already in your lap, so I guess I might as well…” He leaned down until his lips were brushing my ear, and whispered, “This is fun… but I’d rather be back at the hotel, just the two of us.”
Forget dreaming, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.
“Then let’s go,” I breathed, and Slash looked at me like he was genuinely surprised.
“Really? You want that? With me?”
“I’ve wanted that practically since we met, are you kidding?” I finally worked up the balls to stretch up and kiss him. He eagerly returned the kiss and then he slid out of the booth, tugging me after him as we hurried out of the bar.
And the rest, as they say, is history! I have to keep some secrets, don’t I?
Huh, I guess I was lying before when I said the third reason was the final reason. Actually, telling that story reminded me of a few more reasons if you know what I mean, hah!
Hey, you’ll keep all this between us, right? Yeah? Good, because I gotta go – Slash looks like he’s about to pass out on the pool table, I think it’s time to take him home…
~~~~
#pov: you were just trying to get a drink after the show but you picked the same bar as the band#and somehow duff trapped you in a conversation about his realtionship#you feel like you shouldn't be hearing this but it's just too juicy you can't help it#and duff is way too far gone to filter himself#duff mckagan#slash#saul hudson#gnr#guns n roses#sluff#reply#how many synonyms are there for 'drunk'? let me count the ways...#sodafics
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What’s the key aspect that separates successful handypeople from those folks whose houses slowly fill with thousands of undone projects, until their bereaved family members have to finally throw all of it the dumpster, leaving them without a single finished thing to show for their entire life’s work? It’s not organization, or at least I hope not. It’s stick-toitiveness.
That’s right. Stubbornness is the secret sauce that keeps the world afloat. Think about it: if someone asked you to go to the moon, you’d work hard on it for a few days before calling it “real fuckin’ tough.” After it’s declared to be a difficult project worthy of increased focus, you would then push all that space stuff aside for a pachinko-machine repair or some kind of ornate television-remote holder, neither of which you would finish either. It is our curse to pick up more projects than we can hope to ever accomplish, and flit between them as soon as the going gets tough.
Now, the science of pharmacology has developed some excellent focus-enhancing drugs. Maybe that works for you; if it does, fill your boots. However, it turns out that what I like to focus on is “starting new projects,” and a dose or two of Russian research chemicals merely produces even more entries on the to-do list with little Sharpie-marker frowny faces next to them. My boss hates it when I don’t show up for work because I wondered what the inside of a VCR really looked like that morning. Being fired admittedly did curb the new projects, but it also put a major impediment to getting parts for the existing projects, which also led to abandonment. Basically, it’s a good thing I’m not a surgeon, because the interns would have to hold the door to the OR shut to keep me from swapping out a half-opened patient.
Even with all of this, I’m a lot better at being stubborn than most folks. After all, other people would probably have given up on the entire concept of “being handy” when it had become so blatantly obvious they were not.
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I probably missed this get covered somewhere in the blog, but why did Penders think ANYONE would care about the dinner parties, the slumber party before actually getting to anything interesting?
There are a few main things I would point to
Number one: He probably thought that the mere act of seeing the heroes as grownups and finding out what their kids are like would be interesting enough to carry M25YL for a while. And, to be fair, the novelty of that did make me give the story the benefit of the doubt as a kid. (I liked shows like Butt Ugly Martians as a kid, though, so take elementary school Bobby’s opinions with a grain of salt)
Number two: He probably also thought that the impending threat of the planet exploding looming in the background would make everything else more interesting. It probably worked on some readers, but to many, it just makes it feel like the heroes (and the writer) are ignoring the impending doomsday threat in favor of trivial things like dinner parties
And number three, which I’d probably say is the main factor for why M25YL is the way it is: Speaking from experience, what’s fun for a writer to write isn’t always the most interesting stuff for an audience. I’m sure Penders was having a blast figuring out what everyone’s like in the future, but that doesn’t inherently translate to a good story
It depends on the type of writer, I suppose, but a lot of us fuckin love world and character building. We’ll write page upon page of the stuff. I have my own personal little encyclopedia for the SLARPG dev team with fairly lengthy entries on all the characters and locations, explanations for how magic works, that sort of stuff. It’s really fun to me to flesh out the world and characters like that, including trivial details about the characters’ day to day lives and how the Paladin Brigade functions within Greenridge’s government and that sort of thing. (It’s also just good to keep stuff like that written down some where to keep everything straight.) But like… even if I find all that stuff interesting, that doesn’t mean I’d open the game with a giant info dump and a million little fun facts about the characters. It has to be spaced out. You have to get people engaged in the story first, and THEN you can give them that next level of information. (In a game, it also helps that a ton of this stuff can be made optional if the player isn’t interested, but that’s a whole ‘nother discussion)
Penders, on the other hand, has front loaded M25YL with answers to questions like: Is Manik a picky eater? What’s the government of Angel Island like in the future? Who does Lien-Da’s son like? What does Knuckles and Julie-Su’s morning routine look like? What would Lara-Su do for fun at a slumber party? What are they going to make for dinner? And like… none of these are inherently bad questions to be asking. It’s just that, in an action-adventure series like Sonic, you can’t build a story out of just those questions
That stuff’s the secret sauce. You put in a little to show your readers that there’s more to the characters than just quips and fighting. It adds flavor. But you can’t just hand someone a bottle of the sauce and go “that’s your whole meal”
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