#uh oh! looks like someone is knee deep in the commune! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boop-le-snoot · 1 year

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I just had this vivid scene play out in my brain. Dropped to my knees in a local chain grocery store, had to pretend I was grabbin the bootleg brand chips from the bottom shelf. I'm definitely normal about this. Yea, I'm so abso-fucking-lutely normal about this.

So what if I'm ovulatin'? It ain't me sittin' here clenching my fuckin' thighs, no ma'am, nu-uh. Even my predictive text talks like Daryl now- okay, I may have a tiny little problem. I hope I never, never ever get the chance to look Norman Reedus in the eye.

4.5k words. VERY VERY NSFW. Just sweet and a little rough monkey lovin' where Daryl enjoys something for the simple sake of it feeling good. A little undercooked plot-wise but the smut has been grilled to a perfect medium-rare, slightly juicy, collard greens and mashed potatoes on the side with the mushroom sauce. Two packs of cigarettes later (he owes my lungs an apology),

Imagine you and Daryl going out on a - run, scouting mission, whatever - and hunkering down in a secure cabin for the night. It's summer, it's hot and stuffy inside, but luckily, the cabin has running water, even if it's ice-cold. So you wash up and apply some of the essential-oils-homemade-perfume-thing that someone at the community made for you.

You change into your PJs and come downstairs to amuse yourself til the sun sets completely.

He's smoking next to a crack in the boarded up windows and you, being on friendly terms, banter a bit and bum a cigarette off him. He doesn't mind when you use one of his knees to sit down. As you two joke, you ruffle his hair slightly, not missing the way his eyes narrow in pleasure.

That sparks a conversation about letting oneself to feel good things.

You say that it's different for women because they get judged for wanting to experience pleasure just for the sake of it and Daryl says he always thought it to be stupid. You say that he's not exactly the resident expert on that, which briefly makes his natural competitiveness overshadow his shyness and self-loathing.

Petulantly, he places your hand back in his hair and stresses the purring growl of pleasure as your scratch his scalp and let his moist tresses glide through tour fingers.

You laugh and say you're gonna braid his hair one day, in jest, and he growls back "yer pushin' yer luck, pretty girl," but his smile is hidden rather badly.

In revenge, you stomp out the cigarette and straddle his lap fully, attacking his head with a massage worthy of a spa parlour professional.

He grips your waist as his head hangs forward, a low rumble coming from his mouth as his nose comes that much closer to your neck.

Daryl takes a deep breath, and sensing you unbothered by it, says "ya smell good. like apple pie."

"Oh," he doesn't miss the slight hitch in your breath, "'member when I fixed up the 'lectric in number twelve? they paid me in some essential oil perfume they made. feels nice to... not smell death all day, every day. 's a nice change."

He nods, agreeing, remembering your strong feelings about doing some things just because they feel good. Not because it's useful or to survive, but just for a surge of happy hormones in your bloodstream.

Despite his best efforts to distract his body, one wiggle from you is all it takes for his excitement to be obvious. He freezes, but you adjust simply, politely, keeping your weight off his boner. Confused by your chill attitude, he lifts his head, forcing you to brush all of his hair out of his face.

Daryl feels vulnerable and exposed.

Your eyes slide down to his lips, once, twice, but you - just as stubborn as him - pick them back up. As he parts them to run the tip of his tongue over them in hopes of finding something to say, he notices it fully.

He notices the flush of your skin. His hands move on your waist, provoking another blink-and-youll-miss-it twitch of your fingertips and toes.

Gathering his ducks in a row, Daryl leans into you - your neck, not your lips, not yet - softly running the tip of his nose along your collarbone and up to your jaw.

"That feel good?" Voice gravelly low, it sends reverb through your chest.

"Yeah," you breathe quietly, your fingers in his hair shaking slightly. You lean more into him and that is all the encouragement he needs for the time being.

"Wanna make ya feel good," he admits, dry lips and scratchy stubble gliding along the length of your jaw. His breath is hot on the shell of your ear. "Can I do that, suga'-pie?"

"Mhm," you respond, his cheek now against yours - you rub into him gently, like a cat. The affectionate headbutt makes him chuckle quietly in his throat.

He continues nosing around your neck, feeling the muscles in your back and your thighs unclench one by one. You're practically on top of him, almost right there, over the throbbing erection in his pants, and he feels your control slip away bit by bit.

The flimsy wooden chair you two are sitting on creaks; Daryl doesn't place much trust in it. Planting his feet wide, securing his position, he inadvertently lands your cunt right over his cock. Both of you shudder and hiss at the contact.

The damn chair creaks again.

He curses under his breath, hands sliding down to your ass, hoisting you up and urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he stands up, sending the raggedy chair clattering to the floor.

Your breath catches in your throat, your hands grab at his shoulders, kneading into the meat there. A few steps later, both of you land on the couch heavily; it creaks, too, but your legs have room and your body can finally relax against Daryl as you stabilise yourself on the surface.

He's panting, open-mouthed, looking at you with those stormy blue eyes, searching for something in your earnest, open face.

The corners of your mouth tug up.

He runs his palm over your back, settling on your nape to pull you into him. Your mouths connect; the kiss is slow and unhurried as you take the time to explore each other's mouths. There is no need to rush, no risk of being caught or ambushed; it really feels good. Following someone's advice for once, Daryl lets himself become utterly lost in the sweet kiss.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging softly every now and then, tipping the cup of him ever-so-slightly for short groans to spill into the kiss. Sometimes, you let your hands traverse the hills of his shoulders, the plains of his chest, fingertips poking around the collar of it.

It's overstimulating but at the same time, it's not enough. To give you a hint, Daryl timidly strokes the single bare inch of skin between your shirt and your pants, feeling the goosebumps even through the thick, calloused skin of his working hands.

The way your hips respond: restless and fluid, pressing into him just that much closer, prompts him to slide his hands further under your shirt, mapping the bony ridges of your spine. The skin along it is sensitive on any mammal, that much he knows, so he expects the twitch, expects the breathy moan leaving your lips; he revels in it, the kiss growing humid and sloppy.

Your hands slip into his shirt, finally, your warm palms on his hot skin. He's burning up inside out and you're- you're diligently adding fuel and accelerant to the fire. Blunt nails scratching over his uneven skin, you snag his bottom lip on your teeth as moisture gathers in the corners of your mouths.

The need for oxygen is strong.

Daryl inhales deep as he rests his forehead against yours.

Both of you are panting. Necking like horny teenagers, not a care in the world, no worry for tomorrow; it's near impossible to focus on anything else but the pulsating need at the spots where your bodies are pressed together.

It's all too much but neither of you want it to stop.

"Holy shit," your awed mumble causes Daryl to smirk lightly; as you shift in place, he swears he can smell how wet you are. His jeans must've gotten ruined by now, if not by you then by the weeping of his own cock.

It feels almost regretful to proceed. This exact feeling, if someone could figure out how to bottle it, would have people sellin' their soul for it, Daryl is damn sure.

It's the moment before lightning spears open the stuffy air of a muggy, stormy day. The millisecond before a heavily pregnant cloud gives birth to a solid wall of ice-cold rain; the blink of skies as they generously cool the overheated earth, filling up its parched cracks with invigorating liquid.

"Fuck," Daryl groans, tossing his head back onto the backrest of the couch, watching you through lidded eyes, "whatchu doin' to me, girl?"

You offer him a shaky, sheepish grin before your lust takes over your senses, pushing you back up to him. Your mouth connects with his neck, suckling, licking, nipping at the caramel skin there.

Daryl tastes of cheap soap and clear sweat, that musky scent of gasoline and leather unfurling into notes of pinewood and smoke as you nose deeper; right next to his ear, tickled by his hair, he smells and tastes like the best dessert at the carnival inside the town fair.

A little greasy and drenched in spices. You can't get enough of him. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out flat and lick.

Daryl groans. It's open-mouthed and loud. His hands grab your hips firmly, dragging you over the tent in his pants.

Both of you hiss at the friction.

Your knees wobble as your stance widens in an attempt to cover more surface are, to bring the feeling closer to your clit. There's at least four layers of fabric between your skin and his and it is something that is so sweetly, arduously annoying.

He pushes down again, harder this time, offering another delicious groan that you can't help but swirl in your mouth and recreate. The noise attracts his attention; Daryl watches you, watches your face, the flush on your chest, your heaving breasts. Like many men, he licks his lips utterly unintentionally when his eyes settle on your hard nipples.

Inwardly, you find enough clarity of mind to chuckle. Men and breasts nevel fail to amuse you when placed in close proximity. You push them outwards and his mouth is immediately right there, shirt and all, rolling a stiff nipple gently between his teeth.

The soft, damp cotton adds an edge to it; you feel your underwear slide over your cunt, the fabric absolutely saturated with your arousal.

Daryl's hands knead your ass as he takes in his fill of your breasts.

"That's, fuck," you pant, needing him to know, "that's really fuckin' good."

"Yeah?" He groans wetly before taking in as much of your breast as he can fit in your mouth; there's no finesse to it, just raw, unadulterated need.

"Uh-uh," you nod: his eagerness is what takes the cake.

Daryl tugs your shirt up; up and over your head and fuck knows where it flies, forgotten the moment his lips are back on one nipple, his fingers on the other. He rolls, he bites, he sucks.

Your breasts are wet with spit and sweat.

His breath ghosts over the damp areas, pebbling the tender bud to a state almost frigid.

You moan, loudly, wetly and openly. You gasp, you squirm, anything to quell the restlessness. It's like an army of fire ants trotting their primal, tribal dance under your skin, reducing you to a disoriented mess with a one-track mind. Your fingertips are pale where you hold onto Daryl in a feeble attempt to ground yourself.

He's smirking when he surfaces up. There's spit glistening on his chin, his lips are puffy, the deepest, most delicious shade of maroon. It's obvious the state of your undress and the intensity of your want is echoed by him.

"Feel good?" He has the audacity! to ask.

"Yeah," your response is lackluster in words but the tone and the pleading expression on your face conveys it all: your desire, your desperation.

With you on top of him, the only relief to your aching cunt so far has been provided by his bulge rubbing against your clothed slit. It's not enough, it's not even nearly enough.

Daryl's biceps bulge as he effortlessly lifts you up, "c'mere," placing you back-to-his-chest.

Your legs fall open on your own accord, hanging limply over his muscular thighs. The meat of his cock digs into the cheeks of your ass; you feel it twitch along with you when Daryl's thick palm cups the mound of your pussy in a gesture both tender and possessive.

"Fuckin' shit," his low mumble travels down the shell of your ear, "this all fr'me, sugar?"

"Yes," you breathe out as he slides his middle and ring fingers up and down your slit. There is no hiding it: your cunt had soaked right through your panties and the cotton of your pajama pants.

With some more maneouvering that comes unfairly easy to him (in your opinion), your pants join your t-shirt somewhere in the deepest pits of hell (a far corner of the room). The panties stay on and for that, you're grateful - a little - as the simplest, straightest of touches on the sensitive meat of your cunt feels like clear honey being poured over a-

Daryl taps two fingers at the top of your slit, right where you outer lips part to reveal your swollen clit.

"Fuck!" You yelp.

"So responsive," he mumbles. He sounds fascinated as he spreads his fingers, the rough tips gliding along the skin and the thick meat sliding over the soaked fabric. You quiver and he can't resist running his mouth, "that feel good?" His smirk is a little mocking, a little breathless.

Your resolve hops between strangling Daryl and begging him, the rabbit of your heart leaping in your chest, doing a binky when your lover shows you mercy by moving aside the sticky fabric covering your crotch. It immediately cools and you wince as it touches the hot flesh of your thigh.

Daryl's inhale is sharp, deep and loud as he dips the same two thick fingers inside your slit.

You're swollen and so wet, its practically dripping. Your clit twtiches under his fingers.

"Jesus Christ," he exhales his disbelief, "you like that, huh? This all for me?" The question proves to be rhetoric when the arm that holds you by your waist tightens on you and Daryl grinds his hips up into the small of your back.

The pitch of his voice drops impossibly low, "bet you taste sweet," as he scoops up some of the fluid, fingers snagging on the snug ring of your entrance, before bringing them up to his lips. He noisily sucks your cunt off his fingers, slurping, "fuck yes!"

Your eyes flutter shut as you cunt pitifully clenches around nothing, no doubt making an ever bigger mess between your legs and on his jeans. Your soft whine is an earnest compliment to the man doing his best to clean up your mess.

Daryl repeats the motion several times, scooping up the sticky droplets of your cunt juice, immediately sticking his fingers in his mouth.

You feel a little sad you can't see it, but your imagination supplements that which is lacking. You imagine his brow, furrowed; his eyes, closed; the tight 'o' of his lips around his fingers. Your cunt flexes again, spasming.

Daryl's reward for it is to circle your clit with a featherlight touch of a single finger. His breath is heavy as he reaches lower, same finger sliding to your entrance: not breaching it, just circling, like a predator circles its prey. He must have the patience of a saint.

You, however, do not. Your hips have a mind of their own as they arch into him, your cunt so empty, it practically hurts.

"Tell me whatcha need," Daryl orders, the low of his voice seasoned with a pinch of pride and a pinch of desperation, "tell me, sugar."

"Inside," you keen, out of your mind, "I want you. Inside." There's drool gathering in the corners of your mouth.

Daryl obliges, but not before lubricating the entirety of his thick finger by sliding it over the outside of your cunt, causing another loud keen to fall from your lips.

When he pushes in, you swear you could cry from the sheer relief of finally getting something for your hungry cunt to wrap around.

Experimentally, he drags his finger in and out, slowly, tense as he watches your reaction, before adding in another. To say they're big would be an understatement: long and thick and textured, it's everything your cunt has craved for the past some minutes. Daryl pumps them in and out as you pant through the new sensation, acutely aware of the loud squelches coming from your hole with every plunge.

Your swollen lips and throbbing walls attempt to keep him hostage with every pull.

Daryl curses, something completely unintelligible, his rough voice completely lost to lust. "Gonna cum for me, eh?" He breathes as the contractions of your cunt become quicker, more rhythmic.

Your neglected clit pulses, your nipples are stiff as rocks, your breathing is uneven and shallow. You couldn't find your voice even if you tried; you don't try at all, letting your body do the talking. You fuck back onto his fingers to the best of your limited ability to move as short, loud, primal noises choke their way up your throat.

The throb of his cock against the small of your back is what sends you over the edge.

Daryl's panting, whimpering himself at the unabashed state of your being; you don't think he realises it, even, his eyes set on your cunt gripping onto his fingers.

When it clenches for one last time, you arch, you paint the walls of the room with curses and whimpers that would make even a prostitute blush as more sweet slick drips out your spasming hole and onto his fingers. Your legs tremble as your entire body goes limp in Daryl's hold.

Soft lips rest on the crown of your head, hot, uneven puffs of air frizz your damp hair.

As your brain does a factory reset, you become hyperaware of the hard, thick flesh pressing into you; a stark realization comes over your being, washing your body in a new layer of shivers. Your cunt still tingles, still aches for more.

"Daryl," you mumble, feeling him go stiff and hot, his name like the sweetest honey on your lips, "I want you inside me."

He shudders, he pants, his cock twitches pitifully once again in his pants. The tight denim had provided some relief, enough to focus on you, enough to stretch the time a little bit more. But now, with your body warm and lax and fucked out of your skull, how could he resist?

He didn't want to resist. He wanted to feel good.

In your dazed state, it was easy for him to pick you up, bridal-style, and carry you towards the singular bedroom in the cabin. He grinned at the clumsy way you immediately reached out to him, tangling your fingers in his hair, placing sloppy kisses on the nearest inches of skin you could reach.

The whine you let out when dropped onto the cool comforter?

Daryl's cock twitched demandingly.

The man stood at the foot of the bed, admiring the view: you, blinking up at him, breasts moving with each shallow breath, feet on the comforer and legs bent at the knee, a hint of flushed, swollen pussy peeking out from the crooked gusset of your underwear.

This may not be heaven but it was as close to it as he'll ever get.

The buckle of his belt clinked, denim shuffled as it was left somewhere behind him- Daryl wasted no time dropping to his knees, using two strong hands to bring your cunt up and into his face. The force of his inhale made your sensitive pussy quiver, it was something that made him smile against the fabric of your panties as moved it aside once more - this time with his teeth.

"Oh, fuck!" You yelped as the broad, wide, flat expanse of Daryl's tongue licked messily up your cunt, hole-to-clit.

"Mmm," he groaned, "fuckin' candy apple pussy," taking another taste. And then another, and another until your skin was raw from the stubble of his beard and you were left in a shaking, whimpering, wet mess of a human. His face was drenched. "Messy girl," he chided in a soft mock as your cunt provided him with another gush of arousal, "ya like bein' messy for me, don't cha?"

"Uh-uh," you arched, your usually concise vernacular reduced to whimpers, groans and two-syllable words that barely made any sense to your own ears, much less anyone else's.

Daryl was like a wild animal, lapping up the liquid, uncaring of the mess he made of you and of his own face.

"Please," you fought with your tongue and finally, finally won, "I wanna- uhh," well, maybe not quite.

Momentarily, he withdrew, wiping the side of his face on the inside of your thigh, "you want what? Tell me."

In your state, he could have touched you anywhere and it would have reduced you to a mindless, blabbering mess. So you settled on the next best thing. Your hand, the one that was in his hair, tugged him up - or tried to.

Daryl's responding growl, the shift of his shoulders, the absence of a single hand on your thigh - you knew the tug had him palming himself through his boxers. Another, purposeful tug was given, another growl followed as he stood up.

You weakly pushed yourself up higher on the large bed.

In the dim twilight of the bedroom, Daryl stood, shirt soaked through and through with sweat; his chest heaved as damp strands of hair fell over his face. They were unable to conceal the glistening layer of you on his chin, neither they could hide the blown pupils of his stare. There was almost no blue visible in his eyes.

You licked your dry lips, forcing them to cooperate, "c'mere," your hands stretched out towards him.

Daryl crawled on the bed and over you, sitting between your spread legs. Obedient, he leaned into you, placing sloppy, damp kisses over your face as you wound your arms around his neck. The tent in his boxers hovered less than an inch away from your bare cunt.

"I need ya'," you breathed, tasting yourself as you licked into his mouth, hoping to convey with you body what you couldn't with your words.

"Ya sure, sugar?" Ever the gentleman, Daryl pressed his clothed cock over your bare cunt, ruining his underwear even further; his muscles flexed under your palms.

"Uh-uh," the heat, the feel of his thick cock backtracked any progress you'd made on getting your vocal cords and your brain cooperate. There was nothing but lust and saliva gathered in your mouth now, something that both of you shared during another slow, wet kiss. Your teeth clashed, your tongues ran over each other, all graceless and sloppy.

With one swift, ragged motion of his hand, Daryl shoved his boxers down and over his cock, freeing it from the tight confines; that action alone was enough for him to let out a grunt as the cool air hit his leaking, flushed tip.

The same tip that slapped against your clit, jerking your body and his.

"F-f-fuck," Daryl wheezed, fisting his cock at the base, running the tip slowly over your lips, your clit and down to your hole, "m'not gunna last for shit like this."

Just get inside me!!! You wanted to scream. Instead, you wiggled your hips, you squeezed his shoulders.

The fat head of his cock slipped in, slowly, steadily. More wet, sticky noises got lost in the growl coming from Daryl's gritted teeth.

Your cunt was sucking him in, all wet and hot and snug and constantly flexing, rippling as it adjusted to his size. The roll of your hips that followed was utterly unintentional, driven by the most primitive of instincts.

"Oh, sugar," Daryl grasped your hip tightly, holding it in place, "fuckin' shit. What're you doin' to me, woman?" His speech slurred.

All you could reply was a series of small breaths, 'ah-ah-ah's' with every inch of his cock sliding into you, until you felt his heavy balls pressed against your ass.

If your eyes weren't clenched shut, you would have seen the wild look in Daryl's eyes, the way they darted between the blissed-out look on your face and the root of his cock secured against the entrance of your cunt.

Slowly, he withdrew, hissing at the smooth pleasure of your wet pussy sliding over his cock, and then he slammed back in.

Your body curled, arched; a shriek left your lips at the sudden realization. You held onto him tightly, his shoulders, his arms; the sweet feel of his skin, slick with sweat, bombarded your senses, drowning you in that natural, masculine smell of him.

You babbled some nonsense, something about how good he felt, how he fit just right and so nicely, how he was so good to you-

"You're so good to me," Daryl objected, Daryl stated, "s'fuckin' sweet. My sweet, messy girl."

The words alone brought you closer to the edge as he hammered away inside your oversensitive cunt. In fairness, he could have flicked your clit just once, or even taken his mouth to one of your hard, throbbing nipples-

Daryl's need to feel you come, to clench and gush around his rock-hard cock was at the forefront of his mind, followed closely by awe at the way your body molded perfectly against his. The way your thighs quivered as they attempted to wrap themselves around his hips, the desperation in your grip on his shoulders.

"Fuck!" He cursed, teethering at the very edge of his orgasm, "come for me, pretty girl, c'mon," he urged, swallowing his own moans and gasps.

"I- uh," you, too were almost right there. The coil in your stomach at its most tense, it sent small tremors inside your cunt, shocks of pure, hot, liquid ecstasy-

That traveled down Daryl's cock. Like damn rings during a heated game of muckers, the spasms of your cunt collected at the root of his shaft, one on top of the other, until he could do nothing else but rut roughly, sloppily into the equally sloppy mess of your cunt.

He felt it. It began somewhere at the deepest part of you, squeezin' the head of his cock firmly and traveling all the way down his shaft, until each ring of pleasure popped, releasing his seed into you-

Throbbing, your cunt pushed and gushed, a flash of lightning zapping your clit as Daryl's pubic bone ground into it with force. A hoarse scream tore from your throat, your body curling inward with the force of your orgasm. Strong, heavy spasms of his cock shooting hot ropes into you lulled you into the aftershocks.

It made both of your bodies limp with exhaustion. The cord had snapped and tension finally leaked out, dissolving like smoke and fog into the open air.

Sweaty, sticky and hot, the two of you panted your relief onto each other's cheeks.

Your lips connected with the rough stubble on Daryl's. Hair hung over his face, obscuring your smile.

"Whatchu grinnin' at?"

Boy, did he sound fucked-out. All smoke and gravel and spice and everything nice.

"Feels good."

"Heh," he chuckled, the noise coming from somewhere deep within his chest, "sure does."

#WHEW I NEED TO BE NEUTERED Y'ALL #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x female reader #twd smut #fuckin' tiktok editors wirh their fuckin sexy edits #fuckin norman reedus with his stupid fuckin face #ALL OF YOU GET OUT #of my head #please.

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pedge-stuff · 8 months

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strawberry margs (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual, yada yada.

happy belated labor day, y'all! tip your servers and thank your union reps.

(my union is on strike rn and, while it is ass, I'm very grateful for the people who are working hard to secure a better future for all of us. wga strong!)

summary: a totally normal labor day cookout with no big announcements whatsoever.

—————————————————————————

"Hey!" Pedro is slightly out of breath, flushed from the cocktail and the dry heat. Sometime in the fifteen minutes he's been gone inside the house, a tiny sombrero-on-a-headband has made its way onto his head.

He plants a kiss on your temple, slinging an arm over your shoulder; the man gets a little possessive, after a couple drinks, but not in an unpleasant way. There's a pitcher of pre-mixed margaritas on the picnic table, and only a thin finger of the same drink left in his plastic cup. You squeeze the hand that now rests on your right shoulder.

"Are you having fun?"

Truthfully, yes. Parties usually aren't your vibe, and you'd been nervous about this one, for some reason. Had expressed as much to him, beforehand.

Oscar and Elvira usually host in the summer, the little patio attached to their apartment far surpassing anyone else’s outdoor space in the city. No reason at all to be nervous— you were just here, for the 4th of July, alone, kindly invited while Pedro was still filming in Morocco. (And oh, how the summer had changed.) Had been here almost every weekend since then, while things were shut down.

But, this was the first party since… well. Since you’d put a ring on it, so-to-speak.

The social etiquette of the whole thing has you flummoxed. Are you supposed to tell people? Is that annoying? Do you just not say anything? Wait for them to notice? Take the rings off and break up so you don’t have to do this at all?

Ultimately, these are Pedro’s friends, so it’s been Pedro’s call. Not that you communicated that to him. Which might have been a mistake. Regardless, you’re deferring to him, despite the pit of stupid anxiety it left in your stomach leading up to the party.

Not that you’re not proud of the ring, either. You couldn’t be fucking happier. Social anxiety is a tricky thing, apparently. (You might have way, way overthought all of this.)

“Yeah,” you smile at Pedro, shaking cobwebs of shitty thoughts from your brain. “Yeah, this is lovely.”

Another kiss, this one soft on your lips. He tastes a little fruity, some kinda flavored syrup in the margaritas. You’d accidentally opted for an IPA that tastes like ass, so you’re just carrying around the can as a prop. His fingers are sticky from something, you discover, as he licks them clean.

The arm around your shoulder steers you towards the long picnic table, around which most of the party is gathered: the hosts, and a few extended family members you’ve definitely been introduced to, before. Sarah is here, with Holland, which is a nice surprise. The kids are deep into a game of corn hole, in the small grassy area.

You settle at the table, folding chair pulled flush against Pedro’s. A large hand palms above your knee, exposed below the inseam of your shorts. The sun is warm on your skin, fingers wet from the condensation of the can you’re pretending to nurse.

“— the AMPTP doesn’t know what they’re talking about,” Holland is saying, from where you’ve entered the conversation.

Oscar’s brother, whose name you should know by now, laughs. “Been four months now, though,” he shrugs. “You think someone would’ve budged by now, but—“

"Woah, woah." From his perch on his wife's lap, Oscar points, looking scandalized. “What the fuck is that!"

Pointing, unexpectedly, at the ring on your finger.

"Uh." Pedro's looks sheepish.

"You're joking!" A hand dramatically clutches his heart, while Oscar swoons against Elvira. "I'm wounded. Sarah, did you know about this?"

Across the table, she raises a glass, mockingly. "I picked out the ring."

"That's not true—" Pedro begins to protest.

"—Sorry, I forced him to make a fucking decision because he'd been agonizing over three options for like a month."

Pedro shrugs. "I wanted it to be perfect," he says sheepishly, "sue me!"

"No, no, backup," Oscar says. "I don't care about the rings. I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"I can," Elvira offers, "you've got a big mouth."

He groans. "It's not like it was a secret!"

Loud interruptions from across the table. "It was absolutely a secret, that's the whole point!"

Oscar throws a hand up. "You already act like you're married, is anyone surprised about this?"

"You were surprised."

"I was surprised you didn't tell me! Wounded, frankly. Irredeemably. To the core."

"Are you done?" Sarah rolls her eyes, squeezing Pedro's shoulder affectionately. "About damn time, but we're happy for you."

She gestures at Oscar. “Yeah, yeah, we’re happy for you.”

“With feeling this time.”

“Guys,” Pedro interjects, “I wasn’t keeping anything from you. It happened two days ago!”

He launches into the tale, eggplants and double-rings and all. The hand stays planted on your knee, and you take advantage, laying yours on top to thumb over the band on his ring finger. Someone tops Pedro off, and you reach for a sip— strawberry, you determine, is the marg syrup. You’re not really listening, but you lean back, content to watch him retell the story.

The next time he kisses you, as the sun sets into the Brooklyn skyline, you taste like strawberries, too.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #joel miller #din djarin #javier pena #narcos #the mandalorian #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #javier pena x reader

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year

Text

Day 16. First Time - Steven Grant

Kinktober Day 16: First Time - Steven Grant x f!reader

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, making out, dry humping, virgin steven, lots of reassurance, riding, creampie, fluff, nicknames, no use of y/n

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link

Steven had told you during your third date together, after cooking you a beautiful dinner, the two of you settled on the sofa and one thing led to another and you soon found yourself straddling his lap, hands cupping his cheeks as the two of you made out.

At first, Steven was wide-eyed as you moved to climb into his lap but soon settled into it, hands hovering over your hips until the time came that you ground down against his lap, in which he then stopped you, pushing against your shoulders.

You were off him immediately, sitting back on the sofa, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to overstep”.

“No no love, it’s fine” his hands cupped your wrists, making sure you didn’t move away too far. You watched him closely as he opened and closed his mouth like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what to say.

Relaxing into his touch, you moved closer, knee rubbing against his, “what is it, Steven?”

“It’s embarrassing” he mumbled, eyes looking anywhere except yours, his curls falling further into his face and you refrained from pushing them back.

“I’m sure it’s not Steven, you can tell me anything, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by my actions” you tried to encourage him, moving to try and catch his eye, giving him a soft smile that he thankfully returned, making that soft spot inside of you melt.

“It’s just that I uh- I've not exactly done any of this before” he ran his hands through his hair, shifting on the sofa uncomfortably.

“I know you’ve said that I would be the first girl you’ve properly dated before and that’s why we’ve agreed to take things slow. That’s completely fine Steven, I’m sorry for overstepping- oh…” it finally dawned on you what he meant. “I thought you might have slept with someone before, I thought you meant you just hadn’t had a girlfriend”.

Steven shook his head, he hadn't even had a one-night stand before let alone held a girl's hand. This entire conversation didn’t seem to settle his nerves either as he looked just about ready to jump out of the window.

Not entirely sure what to say, you leaned forward, turning his face towards yours to kiss him sweetly. “I promise it’s ok, we’ll take things slowly and whenever you’re ready we can-”

“I’m ready” he cut you off, eyes firm but cheeks warming beneath your palms. “I mean I… just-” your eyes softened at his stumbling, watching as he took a deep breath to steady himself. “I am ready, I want to do this with you.”

“I want to do this with you too Steven”. He grinned at your words, almost vibrating with silent excitement before it slowly faded, worry returning to his features.

“I just don’t want this to be awful for you love, I think I know what I’m doing I just-” you smile at his candidness, glad he was being open with you.

Taking his hands in yours, your thumb brushing against the back of his hand as you continued to try and calm his nerves, “the best thing to do is communicate. Tell me if you need help or even if whatever I’m doing isn’t right for you, it’s important to be open with each other”.

He seemed to calm down more at your words, a smile returning as you asked, “are you definitely sure about this, just asking to be sure”.

“Hell yes” was his quick response before his mouth captured yours, lips moving against yours with ease and familiarity from a few moments ago. You sighed into the touch but pulled away.

“Let’s move this to somewhere more comfortable”. He almost dragged you over to his bed, causing you to laugh but feeling just as eager and excited, secretly already falling for him, he was like an adorable puppy dog.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his mouth down to kiss yours, feeling his shoulders relax with the action, smelling his woodsy cologne against his cheek, the gel that stuck in his hair as you ran your fingers through it. His own hands wandered over your face, cupping your cheeks, fingers rougher than you would have thought for a museum gift shop worker.

Slowly you began to remove his clothes, making sure not to move too quickly as to startle him but Steven soon moved with ease to remove your own, giggling in between kisses to help ease the tension as he caught his foot in a trouser leg then finally you were both completely naked.

Pushing back gently against his chest, he fell back onto the bed, sitting on the edge and eyes raking over every inch of your skin as you straddled his lap.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered in amazement, hands again hovering over your body as if he was scared to touch you.

“Well so are you handsome”, he really was, and he was a lot more toned than you thought and you noticed his abs flexed. Glancing between your bodies, you also noted his surprisingly girthy length that was standing up in attention between the two of you, begging to be touched.

Making sure to hold his eye, you leaned back on his thighs, hand tentatively wrapping around his cock, feeling it pulse and harden beneath your touch. “Is this ok?”

He sucked in a deep breath as he had just reemerged from being underwater, hands now settling heavily against your hips, holding you to him, eyes wide as he watched your hand move up and down his shaft.

“Shit, no-” you stopped but he quickly rectified himself, “I mean yes, god yes, it’s perfect but I just don’t think I’m going to be able to last if you carry that on for much longer and I really want to have sex with you”.

You couldn’t help but laugh again at him, inching forward to kiss him strongly, distracting him thoroughly with your lips and tongue, waiting until he groaned at your very own taste before moving your weight up onto your knees giving you better access.

Steven was so lost in your sensational touches that he almost fell off the bed when his cock finally came into contact with your warm, wet cunt. “Shit” he cursed loudly, looking between your bodies, watching as your pussy took him inch by inch, he could feel every clench and spasm your hole was producing, nearly overwhelmed by the feeling.

As you finally took all of his cock you just sat for a moment, giving you both a moment to get used to it. “You ok Steven?” you asked breathlessly.

“I’m more than okay love” he responded, hands beginning to discover more of your body as he grew in confidence. Sitting back up on your knees, you began to ride him, slowly at first, allowing him time to get used to it, hands cupping your breasts, noting the way you moaned sweetly as his fingers rolled your nipples between his fingertips.

It wasn’t long before you were increasing your pace, pulling his mouth back towards yours, kissing him feverishly, tongue dancing against his for dominance, teeth pulling his lip down to snap back again.

Steven felt like he was in heaven, not quite believing that this was finally happening after impatiently waiting all these years and to hear you breathlessly moan out his name, it was the most beautiful sound.

Wrapping his muscular arms around your waist, he began to lift his hips up to meet yours, thrusting up as you ride him harder, the tingling sensation building in your abdomen, spreading into your cunt, eyes shutting in concentration, mouth gaping open.

“Steven, I’m going to cum”.

“Yeah?” he choked out almost sounding in disbelief.

“Yes, ah- don’t stop” you groan feeling his hips fucking you faster, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies as you nuzzled into his neck, holding him tightly around the shoulders until finally, your hips rocked harshly, cunt contracting in pulses around his cock.

“Fuck, love!” he groaned loudly into your neck, his cock hardening and then pumping you full of his cum, it lasts for a few breaths before he shuddered to a stop, his juices seeping out of your cunt and onto his lap.

After catching your breath and holding him close, combing through his hair and scratching gently against the skin across your skin, you finally sat back, seeing that he had a huge shit-eating grin spread across his face that infectiously spread to yours.

“That… that was-” you laughed at his loss of words, kissing him deeply before he seemed to stiffen up at realisation. “Wait, shouldn’t I have worn a condom or something?”

It’s ok, I’m on birth control” he noticeably relaxed again, stroking his thumb across the skin on your thighs, finally touching you without permission and you loved it.

“Are you ok Steven?”

“God yes” he was looking at you with such intensity that you could feel your cheeks warming, feeling his cock that had softened starting to pump to hardness once more. “Can we uh- can we do it again?”

You laugh, nodding as you pull him gently into another kiss.

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #steven grant one shot #moon knight smut #moon knight fic #moon knight #marvel smut #marvel #mine*#kinktober #kinktober 2022

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starsofcybertron · 1 year

Text

ERROR - A Steve Saga AU

1 | Strangers

“Woah, man! Calm down, Reality Steve, calm down!" Sabre said. Reality Steve looked at Sabre and Alex through panes of glass. They were in an altered illusion of the Rainbow Town cast by Reality Steve. The Rainbow Tree of Life towered over them like a giant off to the left. They were surrounded by grass and walls in the distance. A redstone contraption stood in front of Sabre and Alex. The Rainbow house, along with the rest of the buildings, were gone, replaced with flat ground. Only the tree remained in the small section that Reality Steve brought back. Said Steve was glaring down at Alex and Sabre from a glass tube connected to another identical tube.

“Calm down?! You want me to calm down after all of this?! You-you know what?" Reality Steve exclaimed angrily. Sabre stared at Reality, waiting for him to finish his sentence. He took a deep breath and exhaled, his gray-and-galaxy-themed hair blowing away from his face.

“Ok, I’m calm." Reality Steve finished. Alex and Sabre turned to each other and exchanged confused glances.

“There’s no way," Alex said.

“That- I-I- Alex listen, Communications 101. I told you, it’s uh…" Sabre trailed off.

“Ye-yeah..." Alex stammered.

“In no way am I shocked. I knew that was gonna happen, so…"

“Yeah, uh-huh," Alex said.

“Lesson learned, am I right? Up top!"

“....yeah…"

“Yeah…"

“Can we, uh, get Galaxy Steve back, please?"

“Yeah. Reality Steve, you ready?" Sabre asked.

“I’ve bEeN ready, you two. Know this: I will do this right now. Just stand back or- you know what, as a matter of fact, don’t even stand back. Go ahead and stand near this machine and take all the damage you want. I really don’t care." Reality Steve said, emphasizing his sentences in his strange, deep, slightly demonic voice. Sabre and Alex stepped away from the colorful redstone contraption and watched Reality as he continued to ramble. “I’m just going to get going on with this now, so hErE wE gO, wE’Re dOiNg iT! I’m just going to- yeah, oKaY…" Reality Steve droned. Suddenly, lightning began to strike the machine. Sabre turned to Alex again.

“Should I have actually explained how-? Oh, I guess he didn’t really need to figure it out--ah, woah...wWwOoOaaAaAHHaaah...!"

§˜FavreMySabre’s Point Of View˜§

My screen instantly flashed white as the sound of lightning booming quickly became high-pitched ringing in my ears. In fact, the ringing was so loud that I couldn't hear anything but. I sank to the ground onto my knees, squeezing my fists to try and help with the pain. I heard a scream, but I couldn’t tell if it was me or Alex. At some point, I lost consciousness.

☆~Galaxy Steve’s P.O.V.~☆

I could see my surroundings again. I think Reality Steve finally had enough with me and decided to separate himself. I was surrounded by glass on all sides, the huge Rainbow Tree of Life standing in the middle of closed-off plains. I raised a hand to my face, slightly reassured by the sight and solidity of my own chocolate-colored skin.

Suddenly, I was aware of a choked cry sounding somewhere in front of me. Sabre was on the floor, passed out. “Sabre!" I yelled, my voice muffled by the glass surrounding my body. “Someone let me out here, I can’t break this thing!" I pounded on the glass wall in an attempt to break it. Alex ran over to me and punched the glass, shattering it into tiny shards onto the ground. Alex and I rushed towards Sabre. Alex scooped his head into her hands, tilting his head slightly up and checking his pulse with shaky fingers. She let out a sigh of relief, but her eyes were still full of worry. I shook Sabre’s shoulders. “Sabre, wake up!" I exclaimed.

Sabre gasped and jolted up, breathing heavily like he just woke from a bad dream. “What happened?" Sabre asked.

“You passed out right after Reality Steve separated. You seem okay, though, thank god." Alex explained, still trembling.

“Speaking of Reality Steve, where is he?" I asked, changing the subject before Sabre could say anything. We simultaneously turned our heads toward the tube where Reality Steve stood. In his place was a tall girl, her brunette hair sitting on her shoulder blades. Another glass tube flanked on either side by the other two glass cylinders held another girl. She had waist-length rainbow hair that looked mussed up. And Reality Steve? Well, he seemed to be long gone.

“Did he just like...disappear…?" Sabre asked slowly. I nodded, staring at the brunette girl in the right tube. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go free those people," Sabre said as he slowly lifted himself off of the ground. We all ran to the tubes. I took the girl on the right and Alex helped Sabre break open the tube in the middle. When I shattered the glass of the strange container, the girl fell forward and I noticed that she’s unconscious. Both of them were. I caught her and yelled to Sabre and Alex,

“They’re passed out! Be careful!" Just as I do, the rainbow girl fell into Alex’s arms. After setting them on the grass, Sabre and I tried to pull the girls out of their sleep.

“It’s no use. They won’t wake up." Sabre sighed as he stood up.

“We’re going to have to carry them, aren’t we?" I questioned, dreading the thought of walking somewhere far with a stranger in my arms.

“Yeah," Alex responded. I sighed and picked up the surprisingly lightweight brunette. Sabre did the same with Rainbow Girl.

“This way," Alex nodded her head to the right, suggesting that we go in that direction. “I think there’s an open plain over there. We can set up camp there until we figure out what to do."

#ERROR AU #Steve Saga AU #Steve Saga #Steve Saga fanfiction #favremysabre #favremysabre fanfiction #Steve Saga fanfic

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jonesy-and-max · 6 months

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part 17: Jonesy & Jamie

Jonesy fussed with her bangs in the rearview mirror as she drove towards her date with destiny at the Silver Mine. Her eyes darted from the mirror, back to the road in front of her, squirmy without her hat. She felt naked, but at the same time a bit free, like at least for tonight she wasn’t your everyday Jonesy. She wasn’t the Jonesy she had been for the last nineteen years of her life. Maybe for tonight she could be better, she could be someone Jamie Reynolds would want to hang with, maybe even kiss. She pressed her knees against the steering wheel, keeping the car straight, as she lit her inhaler/pipe and took as big a hit as her lungs could hold. She needed to chill out and fast. She thought of taking a few hits of Squirt, but had a feeling in her gut that the universe would let her know when it was time to light one of those bad boys up. As it was, they still rested safely snug in the inner rim of her cap.

The Silver Mine was absolutely packed that night. Having a band like Sleater-Kinney come through town was a huge deal, especially for a small town like Lake’s End and the even smaller punk community that resided there. The venue itself was a pub/bar/performance showcase, built inside a small industrial warehouse. It was the most popular place, and easily the coolest place, to go for the college aged crowd. Teenagers from the surrounding area were known to sneak in constantly, but no one ever seemed to get in trouble for it.

Jonesy found a place to park on one of the nearby side streets and walked briskly to the bustling parking lot of the Silver Mine. People of all sizes, shapes, ethnicities, and social cultures arrived and congregated in the parking lot. They smoked and laughed, kissed their partners, and talked and talked and talked. Jonesy stooped anxiously through the crowd of punks and hipsters, desperately searching for any sign of Jamie Reynolds. She chewed on her thumbnail and stood her full height, standing on tippy toes to try and see where they could be.

“Jonesy!” A melodic voice called.

She looked around, finally landing on the direction the voice had come from. Sitting on the trunk of her green Honda was Jamie Reynolds, five beautifully androgynous people hung around her and stared at Jonesy as she called her name. Jonesy let out a short breath at the sight of her and tugged her polo down, unconsciously self conscious.

Here we go. No turning back, now. Jonesy took another deep breath and tried to focus on not sweating. She tried not to think about how she was walking, Am I walking weird? How do I normally walk? Is it normal? Do I walk like a crazy person?? Just one foot in front of the other. Same as every other day. Jonesy stiffly made her way over to Jamie Reynolds, nearly tripping on her own feet.

“Hey! Jamie Reynolds!” Jonesy trotted over.

“Jonesy! I am so happy you came!” Jamie jumped off the car and ran up to Jonesy.

Jonesy blushed, “I mean, how can I say no to a night out with…uh,” She caught herself, “A night out to, uh…see Sleater-Kinney!”

“Seriously!” Jamie clocked her hesitation, but ignored it.

The athletic, impeccably styled, androgynously, feminine boy that stood next to Jamie with their arms crossed, looked Jonesy up and down.

“Someone reeks of pot.”

Jonesy blushed, “Oh, um.” She smelled herself.

“It’s fine. I’m just deadly allergic, that's all.”

“Jasper, settle down. You’re not allergic, you just can’t handle your high.” Jamie rolled her eyes and smirked.

Jamie took Jonesy’s hand and pulled her in close, and smelled her neck. A wave of goosebumps shuddered Jonesy’s body.

“I think she smells fucking incredible. Earthy, witchy.” Jamie pulled Jonesy’s hand to her, taking another smell with her eyes closed, then opening them just so, “I love it.”

“Christ, you’re such a lesbian, Jay,” Another gorgeous friend of Jamie’s poked her in the side, causing Jamie to giggle and play fight with the poker.

“Jonesy! Let me introduce you,” Jamie wrestled herself away and stood in front of the group, arm around Jonesy’s waist. “This is Jonesy (don’t call her Lindsay), she’s a gorgeous, powerful, punk, badass who runs the video store.”

“Well, I don’t run it, I just, well, me and my friend Max, we just love the place and -” Jonesy blah blah blahed all over the place.

Jamie ignored her word salad and pressed on, “Jonesy, these are my closest friends. We all met at either theater camp or band camp. They're my real family…” She looked at them with loving eyes as all six of them held hands, performing for an audience of one (or six).

“This is Tag.” An athletic, gorgeous, traditionally masculine boy, with sunkissed caramel skin. Long, wavy brown hair you could lose your hands in, and impossibly blue eyes you could drown in.

“This is Jen.” A waifish boy with soulful eyes, “This is Mickey,” A short, strong girl, wearing all black, with broad shoulders and shaved black hair. She wore subtle black makeup, her eyeliner was impeccable, and she had one Ankh earring in her left ear. Jonesy blushed, Mickey was an absolute hunk. Jamie pulled her along, “You already met Jasper,” They rolled their eyes. “And this is Usagi, she’s my half sister from Japan.”

Jonesy had never met anyone from another country before, “Dude, that’s so awesome.” She extended her hand for a shake.

Usagi took a drag of her clove cigarette and blew the smoke in Jonesy’s face.

Jonesy coughed and snarled.

“She has problems with most social interactions,” Jamie scowled at her friend, “And overprotective! That’s why I’m here. I keep these guys in line, cause they’d just be lost without me, right?”

Her friends all chuckled and made snarky little in-jokey chatter back at her in sarcastic agreement.

“She thinks she’s the main character!” Jasper nudged Tag with their shoulder.

“There’s a shocker!” Mickey rolled her eyes.

They all laughed together, Jonesy attempted to join in. Jesus Christ, I wish Max was here. Jonesy sweated and suddenly became very aware of her tongue.

Tag pulled out a six pack that had been reduced by half, with a twist and a tug he released a can of Coors Light, offering it to her, “Pre-game?” Jonesy could tell that smile of his was dangerous. She was sure he’d broken a lot of hearts with that smile.

“Hell yeah, dude.” Jonesy took the can and cracked it open, appreciating the first welcoming gesture she’d experienced from Jamie’s clique.

Jonesy had a couple more beers, finally starting to loosen up when Jamie ordered the party to move into the Silver Mine. They all cheered in agreement and readied themselves for a night of dancing, drinking, and flirting.

Jamie leaned into Jonesy’s ear, “My cousin is the bouncer, he always lets us in.”

“That’s so dope!”

“That’s so dope!” Jasper mocked Jonesy to Jamie’s face.

“Shut up!” Jamie laughed and swatted at Jasper, who grinned and ground their heel on what was left of their clove cigarette. She turned towards Jonesy, “Please don’t beat my douchebag friend up.”

“I’m afraid they’re leaving me with little recourse.” Jonesy deadpanned.

Jamie made an evil laugh, Jonesy grinned and let Jamie pull her along towards the entrance. She was a puppy on Jamie’s leash, she could’ve pulled her off a bridge and she would’ve thanked her. Jonesy was part of Jamie’s crew now as she walked side by side with her, their fingers intertwined. It was unbelievable, it was like a dream, Jonesy couldn’t keep her eyes off of Jamie. She sparkled and shined and being in the glow of her light was intoxicating. Jamie said something to her cousin, the bouncer, an absolute tank of a man, but Jonesy wasn’t paying attention. Jamie looked at Jonesy, gesturing to her and saying something to her cousin, Jonesy just nodded and smiled. Jamie pulled her in closer as the two of them pushed through the double doors of the Silver Mine.

Inside, the Mine was packed. The band wasn’t on stage yet, so people were still getting drinks at the bar and others were ordering food on the second floor. Upstairs, people were starting to claim their spots against the guard rails, drinking and smoking. The whole place was warm, with a humidity generated by its clientele. A smoky haze hung just above their heads, the overhead lighting breaking through like a twilight canopy. Jamie’s friends scattered into the crowd, except for Jasper and Usagi, who locked arms and headed for the stairs leading up to the second floor. Jamie placed the palm of her hand on Jonesy’s lower back and slid it around her waist again, pulling her towards the bar. Jonesy’s ears turned hot and bright red, her heart pounding in her chest. Jonesy thanked God that she had had the guts to wear her midriff polo as Jamie’s hand gripped her hip.

“There’s a good one.” Jamie narrowed her eyes on her prey.

Jamie pulled Jonesy through the thick of people trying to order drinks until her elbow was resting on the table of the bar.

“Hey!” She said, gazing up at a young man with a kind face and big brown eyes. He wore a smart, powder blue, button up dress shirt over a white undertee, and a small gold cross around his neck.

When he realized Jamie was looking in his direction, he looked around almost bewildered, then pointed at himself.

“Me? He, me?” His smile was awkward, but cute.

“Yes, you!” Jamie playfully touched his arm, Jonesy couldn’t pull her gaze from Jamie.

He was clearly flattered.

“So, like, it’s my girl’s birthday today and we could really use a couple beers.” Jamie put on a sweet, ditzy persona, “You see, she just turned…” Jamie slowly, suggestively, slid her hand from Jonesy’s hip, up her waist, under her shirt, finding a firm grip on her ribs, “...eighteen.”

The brown eyed boy had watched the entire journey of Jamie’s hand with stunned amazement. His imagination ignited, he was snapped back to reality when he heard the word eighteen. Jamie had put a breathy emphasis on that number. The boy swallowed hard and blurted out a laugh.

“Wow! That’s…” He didn’t know what to do with his hands, “Yeah. I mean, I’d love to help you two celebrate!”

“Oh my gawd, you are so awesome!” Jamie turned to Jonesy as the boy ordered them some drinks. Jamie gave Jonesy a little shake and a mischievous grin. Jonesy chuckled nervously, staring at Jamie’s lips.

After handing them their beers, Jamie pretended to see her friends, talking over the boy about how she needed to go, her friends were over there, “thank you, you’re so sweet!” She steamrolled him hard, whooped it up and once again pulled Jonesy along.

She found a dark spot behind a pillar and laughed, “That was too easy.” Jamie was inches from Jonesy’s face.

“Yeah, he was totally hypnotized by you.”

“Come on, the moment he heard you were ‘eighteen’ he practically jizzed in his pants! Haha!”

Jonesy laughed along, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I noticed you weren’t wearing your hat. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it.”

“You…” Jonesy went for it, “You’ve ‘noticed’ me?”

“Well, I’ve seen you around.”

Jonesy’s back was against the pillar, Jamie pressed up against her.

“Jonesy,” Jamie suddenly seemed a little awkward, the first time Jonesy had ever seen her almost vulnerable, “I don’t know if this is dumb or whatever, but…”

Holy shit holy shit. Ho-ly SHIT, is this happening? This is happening, right? Holy shit shit shit shit! Jonesy closed her eyes and moved in, her heart in her throat, beating like a bass drum.

Suddenly the lights went low, the sound of reverb on a guitar and some microphone feedback, cut through the din of the Silver Mine attendees. The crowd went quiet, then broke out into cheers and applause. Jonesy winced and Jamie leaned her head around the pillar to see what was up.

“The show’s starting!” Jamie grabbed Jonesy’s hand and pulled her into the crowd gathering in front of the stage.

“Aw, man.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, man! Uh, hell yeah!” Jonesy wiped the sweat forming underneath her bangs.

Jamie squeezed and elbowed her way through the crowd while Jonesy provided backup and defense. They reached a wall of people, ass to elbows, that could not be breached. Jonesy had an idea.

“Do you trust me?” Jonesy looked Jamie dead in the eyes.

“...” Jamie considered for a moment, “Absolutely, I do.”

Jonesy grasped her hand and spun her behind her, getting down on one knee.

“Get on!”

Jamie hopped onto Jonesy’s back, gripping her tight around her collarbone. Jonesy braced herself, and charged forward, letting the combined weight and momentum do its job, they burst through the human barrier. As Tucker, Brownstein, and Macfarlane took to the stage, Jamie and Jonesy were enveloped by the crowd and released into the desperately patient pit about to unleash. It churned and simmered, its inhabitants vibrating with the energy of a supernova. The opening chords of “Little Mouth” erupted from the stage and it was almost too much for the crowd to handle. Cheers ignited from the crowd and the pit became a thunderous whirlpool, its energy finally released. Jamie and Jonesy were lost within, becoming one with the roiling mass of humanity. Inside they cheered, shouted, threw fists, stomped, and thrashed. At times crashing into each other, oftentimes protecting each other from the uninhibited violence of the pit denizens.

After a few more songs, Jamie and Jonesy found their way out, in search of provisions. A couple of older punks hung in the back near the bar and tables, the girls wasted no time flirting with the good natured elder asskickers, joking, sharing some laughs and a basket of fries. The older men flirted back, buying them a round of shots. They bought them another couple shots for the road as Jamie and Jonesy weaved through the crowd, happening to run into Tag who was surrounded by more than a few starry-eyed suitors. He handed Jamie and Jonesy a couple of cocktails as he charmed and infatuated those around him. Jamie just rolled her eyes, finished her drink, and pulled Jonesy along, once again. They finally found Jasper in a circular booth, the rest of Jamie’s crew had joined back up there as well. The booth was full, a few extra people had been picked up at that point, single-serving girlfriends and boyfriends for the night, so Jonesy pulled over a chair to sit on the outside. Jasper smirked, keeping an eye on Jonesy, enjoying her awkwardness. Jamie noticed the cliche symbolism of Jonesy’s outsider status.

“Jonesy, sit here!” Jamie had taken the spot at the end of the booth. She got up, pulled Jonesy into the seat and jumped on her lap. “There! Now we can all fit!”

Jonesy’s ears went red and she could feel the sweat on her back begin to form.

“Haha! Cool, yeah!” Fuck, she smells good.

Jamie took Jonesy’s hands and wrapped them around her waist. Jonesy’s cheeks flushed red.

“This show fucking rules!” Jamie shouted to her friends, all in agreement.

“It’s okay, I guess. They were better in New York.” Jasper was unimpressed as usual.

Jamie laughed, Jonesy noticed Jamie found Jasper’s acerbic asides to be hilarious, which led her to thinking maybe this is just Jasper’s way of joking around. They were just kind of a dick for the irony of it. Jonesy could get her head around that. She loosened up a little, starting to embrace the vibe of Jamie’s crew. Once you got past the insufferable, hipster, snottiness, you could see it was possibly self-aware.

“I can’t explain why. So, don’t ask me to, because I won’t even answer you.” Jasper continued, “You would know if you knew.”

“Would I?”

“You would.”

“But, only if I knew?”

“I mean, if you knew, then you would’ve been there to know. But you weren’t. And you don’t. And you can’t.”

“Are you having a stroke, Jasper?” Jonesy raised an eyebrow.

Jamie giggled, “Yeah, like, are you good, dude?”

“No, I’m not!” Jasper smirked and drank their Manhattan.

“So, how do you know each other, anyway?” Mickey asked.

“Oh, I’ve known Jonesy since we were in, like, Junior High together?” Jamie turned to Jonesy.

“I mean, we went to the same school, but Jamie didn’t know me. She’s a year older. And I wasn’t exactly cool.”

“I knew you!”

“How??” Jonesy was genuinely puzzled, to her knowledge, she was exclusively with Max until he eventually dropped out. Jonesy had pined after Jamie from afar since day one of seventh grade, but she always assumed she had been all but invisible to everyone else.

“Are you kidding? Everyone knew you guys. That time you guys released all those stray cats into the school…”

“They needed someplace to live!”

“That time you and Max scammed everybody with your fake exorcisms.”

“I maintain my innocence. You look at those guys and you tell me God hath not forsaken them!”

“Oh! That time you got the principal arrested for being a werewolf!”

Jonesy rubbed the back of her neck and shrugged, “He wasn’t a werewolf, but he was a pervert.”

“Animal control shot him with a tranquilizer!” Jamie and her crew laughed.

“He was being hostile!” Jonesy joined them, “He shouldn’t’ve tried to bite that cop!” She thought for a moment, “You know, when you say all that stuff together like that…”

“Like I said, Jonesy, how could I not know who you were?”

“Who’s this Max guy? Is he your boyfriend?” Jen asked.

“Oh! God, no, haha,” said Jonesy, “He’s my best friend.” Jonesy suddenly thought of what had brought her to the Silver Mine. Did I overreact? I mean, how could he do what he did? Gina? That’s fucked up. I have a right to be pissed! I miss him, though. I can’t remember the last time we were apart for this long. Is that weird? I think I’m doing fine without him.

“She’s single!” Jamie shouted to her friends.

“I don’t know, sounds like you spend a lot of time with this Max guy.” Mickey teased.

“I’m not…into him like that. He’s not…what I’m looking for…” Jonesy attempted to be as stealthy as she could.

“What are you looking for, exactly?” Mickey smiled knowingly.

“You know…what…everyone is looking for, I guess…” The sweat in Jonesy’s pits began to soak through her polo.

Jamie noticed Jonesy getting uncomfortable, “Stop playing with your food, Michelle!”

“Oh it’s full names, Jameena?” Mickey flipped off Jamie.

“Come on, Jonesy, let's dance!” Jamie flipped off Mickey in return, hopping off of Jonesy’s lap and taking her by the hand.

Jonesy looked back as Mickey toodalooed after them.

“What did you mean when you said she was ‘playing with her food?” Jonesy suddenly realized just how drunk she’d gotten. Jamie had been feeding her drinks all night and she hadn’t really thought about how many she had, but now she could feel the familiar slosh in her head. She hadn’t been this drunk since she and Max had lifted a bottle of Jameson at the liquor store a few years ago. “Does she wanna bang me, dude??”

Jamie was feeling good, not as melty as Jonesy, but warm and dropping her inhibitions. She wasn’t afraid of telling Jonesy the truth, “Oh yeah. She thinks you’re cute! But she can’t have you, cause you’re all mine tonight.”

“Me? I’m mine?”

Jamie shushed her, “Shhh, don’t tell you, but I think Jonesy is really hot, in this like, Joey Ramone kinda way. Like, you know how Joey Ramone is kind of funny lookin’, but you’d still fuck ‘im? Cause he’s a bad ass? Like that. You’re face is different. In a really good way.” Jamie’s mouth was faster than her brain, “I’m sorry, you’re not ugly! I’m drunk! I don’t know what I’m saying!”

“All I heard was Jamie fucking Reynolds thinks I’m hot! I’ll take it.” Jonesy was more than willing to make compromises on her dignity for the adoration of Jamie Reynolds. “Like I give a fuck at this point!” Jonesy laughed along with Jamie. Jonesy pulled Jamie in close, “I’ll be your Joey Ramone, baby.”

Jamie giggled and pulled Jonesy’s face in close. Their lips almost touching, Jonesy closed her eyes, ready for the moment to finally happen.

“Got your hat!”

Jonesy opened her eyes and Jamie had somehow unclasped her cap from her jean loop and was now wearing it, backwards, of course.

“Hey!” Jonesy weakly snatched at it, “Careful!”

Jamie laughed, putting two hands on the hat so Jonesy couldn’t take it back.

“Hold up.” Jame felt the rim, “What’s this?” She pulled out the two joints of Squirt Jonesy was saving. “Oh shit! Is this…” She ran them underneath her nose, getting a solid sniff, “It is! This is Kenny’s Squirt!”

“I’m saving those, Jamie, be careful!”

“Jonesy! Please, please, please can we smoke one of these? Please, please, pleeeaaase?” She gave her the big ol’ puppy eyes. Jonesy was nowhere near strong enough to say no to Jamie Reynolds begging her to smoke weed together.

“...Of course. Jesus, come on.”

“Yay, yay, yay!” Jamie clapped her hands and giggled with excitement.

The smoke detector in the bathroom had been rendered useless ages ago. You couldn’t smoke in the building, but the bathrooms had become fair game. No one said shit, turning a blind eye to the health code and fire code violations that had begun stacking up in the Silver Mine. It would only be two years later that the place would burn to the ground thanks to a poorly placed cigarette. Luckily no one would be seriously injured, but Lake’s End would lose a major landmark. A place so many teenagers and young adults would experience important milestones. Getting drunk, seeing shows, smoking weed, getting felt up, dates, break ups, all of these precious moments were housed within the very flammable walls of the Silver Mine. Tonight, on opening day of Chain-Slaughter 6, one of those milestones was already in the making.

Jonesy pocketed one joint, and held the other between her lips, lighting it. She and Jamie hung out in the back corner of the women’s bathroom, Jamie sat on the sink while Jonesy leaned against the cool, tile wall. Jonesy took a drag and passed it over to Jamie.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Jamie exhaled and passed the joint to Jonesy.

“Why now?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and me. Me. Here.” Jonesy inhaled and held it for as long as she could before exhaling, “We hardly know each other. I think we’ve had a total of, like, five conversations since junior high. So, why did you want me to come out with you and your friends?” Jonesy passed the joint back.

“I don’t know. I mean, that whole thing with that Farley girl left a bad taste in my mouth. And then I saw you standing out there in the Snap-Mart parking lot.” Jamie inhaled and held it in for a moment, slowly releasing the smoke into the recycled bathroom air. “Do you believe in signs? Like, from the universe?”

“Dude, yes!”

“I just felt like, after the video store, and then seeing you out there. It was like, the universe wanted me to be with you tonight.”

“B-be with me?” Jonesy coughed, choking in surprise.

“I’m glad I was able to get you away from Max for the night. Get to know just you, even just a little bit.” Jamie took another hit and hopped off the sink, “He must've been pissed.”

“Well,” Jonesy hadn’t actually given Max time to properly react, “I think maybe he was just sad he wasn’t going to be there to help me pick out an outfit,” She chuckled to herself. Come to think of it, knowing Max, he might’ve ditched opening day all together so Jonesy could’ve had her night out with Jamie. Even if he hadn’t been invited. Jonesy knew that was true and it made her feel homesick for her counterpart.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jamie ignored Jonesy’s response.

“Uh. Yeah, sure.”

“I have, like, a feeling, and maybe I’m way off base, but,” Jamie made sure no one was listening, “I get this feeling that you might like me?”

Jonesy went completely red and some internal mechanism hit the emergency sweat button. She was way too drunk and way too high for any kind of calm, cool reaction.

“What??” Jonesy scoffed, “That’s…that’s insane. First off, like, we’re both…I mean, you’re a girl…and I’m a girl, too. Both ladies. I’m not…I’m just picky when it comes to…” Jonesy wiped the sweat from her forehead, “Did someone tell you something? Cause, that’s…wack…son. Wiggity wack! I’m gonna…kick…someone’s butt over these allegations!”

Jamie laughed, “Yo, yo, yo! It’s cool!”

Jonesy continued to make scoffing, panicky noises. Jamie took her by the hands.

“Jonesy, it’s cool.” Jamie was feeling really good tonight. The drinks, the excellent weed, Jamie was in love with life. The music, all the people, the warm air of the bathroom, everything just felt amazing. Jonesy’s hands were rough, calloused from playing guitar, toughened by skateboarding falls, and strengthened by a lifetime of suburban backwoods adventures. They were warm in Jamie’s soft, manicured hands. She ran her thumb over Jonesy’s knuckles, taking her time to feel the scars that adorned them, some indented into her skin, others raised and smooth. Damn, that’s hot, Jamie thought to herself. In the fluorescent light of the bathroom Jonesy looked exceptionally pretty. Her eyes shined, full of life, her pale skin flushed with bashful excitement, only served to endear Jamie more.

“Come with me.” Jamie pulled Jonesy into one of the stalls, she couldn’t’ve cared less if anyone saw them.

“WHUH?” Jonesy’s eyes went wide with panic.

Kyle Richard had just turned twenty one and in celebration of the occasion, he, his friends, and his girlfriend went into the city and partied, literally, until the sun came up the next morning. They boarded the earliest train they could get, hungover, some of them still drunk, some of them still high, some of them still both. They ate bacon egg and cheese bagels for breakfast and picked on hashbrowns slowly, so as to not upset their stomachs too much. Greasy food was always a balm to be slathered on an aggressive hangover. Kyle’s girlfriend slept on his shoulder on the train as he finished his hashbrown and hers, slipping it out of her dozy fingers. Miserably, he had to go to work that afternoon, he worked second shift at the mall doing security. It wasn’t glamorous, but it gave him a sense of purpose, and he enjoyed making teenagers cry whenever the opportunity presented itself. That was a week ago. And in that week he had barely even seen his girlfriend, in fact, if he hadn’t known any better, it almost felt like she was avoiding him. The two of them had a…dramatic relationship. Had he cheated? Sure, there had been an accident or two through the years. Had she cheated? Not from her perspective, but from a more honest perspective, the answer was yes, she had.

She hadn’t been answering the phone, and after Kyle had already stopped by her apartment to see if she was there, there was only one place left she would be on a friday night in Lake’s End. Honestly, he should’ve gone to the Silver Mine first, it was essentially her second home at this point. The parking lot was pretty empty at this point, save for a few smokers hanging around, taking a break from the concert inside. Some hipster band Kyle’d never heard of was playing, so he could already tell it would be a packed house tonight. He hated the Silver Mine, just some place teenagers could get drunk and stoners could smoke their dope. They violated so many health and safety laws, it made his skin crawl. If only he could’ve gotten into the police academy, he would’ve shut this place down on his first day in uniform.

Kyle marched towards the entrance, determined to finally get the upperhand in the relationship. She would finally have to admit she was cheating on him, that is, if he was able to catch her in the act. As he stormed through the parking lot, suddenly, from the corner of his eye he saw something large and furry climbing a pipe on the side of the building.

WUH-BAM!

“FwOOF!” The figure body slammed itself onto the lid of the dumpster, bounced off and landed on the pavement with a fart, “My balls!”

Kyle could clearly see him now, a stocky, scruffy dude in a leather jacket. The dude picked his glasses up off the ground, inspected them and returned them to his face.

“Yo, what the fuck are you doing?” Kyle was never one to mince words.

Max was surprised, taking a defensive stance and raising his fists, ready for a fight.

“Shit! Look, man, uh, dumpsters are public property, anything in there is fair use.”

“You were clearly trying to climb into that window.”

“Perhaps…” Max lowered his fists, but raised an eyebrow, looking at Kyle up and down, “Are you a narc?”

“Fuck, no.” He lied.

“Well, then, if you’d kindly, like, go away. I’m on a mission.” Max began climbing the drainage pipe that led up to the small, rectangular window he was never going to be able to fit through.

“A mission?” Kyle crossed his arms, he was vaguely intrigued by this scrappy weirdo.

“Yeah, my best friend’s in trouble and desperately needs my help. I have to get to Jonesy before something really bad happens.”

“Hm. I respect that little dude.”

Max slipped back down the pipe, landing on his feet. He dusted himself off, “I'm not so little.”

“I’m kind of on a mission, too.” Kyle walked over and slapped Max on the arm, causing him to stagger to the left a step, “Here’s what’s up, I’m looking for my girlfriend in there. She kinda forgot to tell me she was going out tonight and when she does that, it usually means she’s here with someone she doesn’t want me to know about.”

“Damn, that sucks, dude.”

“So here’s the deal: If I get you into the Mine to find your buddy, you have to be my backup when I need to kick some ass.” Kyle looked Max up and down, “You look like you can hold your own. At the very least, I need you to be my lookout.” Kyle extended his hand, “What’d’ya say?”

Max didn’t super like being indebted to some preppy fuck, but then again, he needed an easier way into the Silver Mine, and Jonesy was in trouble after all. He would do anything to get to Jonesy’s side.

Max shook his hand with gusto, “You got yourself a deal, Sodapop!”

“My name’s Kyle.”

“Oh, uh. Nah, you know, Sodapop? Rob Lowe in The Outsiders? Cause you’re…” Max gave up, “Very good looking- Nevermind! I’m Max.”

“I don’t really care.”

“I feel like we’re really bonding, the two of us.” Max deadpanned.

He dusted himself off again and rustled his own hair before jogging after Kyle.

“Max…” Kyle mused to himself, as much as Kyle had the ability to muse, “You know, you look kind of familiar, in a weird way.”

“Honestly, I was just thinking the same thing about you.” They looked at each other, their brains both trying to muscle their way through the static of their minds.

“You kinda remind me of this kid I knew back in junior high.”

“Oh yeah?” Max’s mind, incredibly, somehow was able to work faster and better than Kyle’s and he began to recognize his new partner as soon as he began to lay it all out.

“Yeah. So, back then I played hockey, but I blew my knee out. This kid said he would ‘exorcize the demons’ from my knee.” Kyle scoffed, “I was desperate to try anything. So after seeing this kid perform an exorcism on the girl’s bathroom, he seemed legit, you know?”

Max suddenly recalled Jonesy and his’ exorcists for hire “business” from when they were teenagers. They made a few hundred bucks that year. They also made a lot of enemies that year. But, come on! It was all in good fun! Surely no one could hold a grudge against a couple’a loveable scamps just trying to make a (not so) honest buck! Max tried to reassure himself.

“Wowee! Demons, eh?” Max chuckled, his eyes dodging back and forth. “I would never mess with that kind of voodoo business! …So, uh…did it work?”

“It did. For about a day.”

Max now noticed the limp Kyle walked with, every now and then he’d give a little hop, putting more weight onto his right leg then his left.

“But the minute I got out on the ice…” Kyle trailed off, balling his fist tight, “Let’s just say if I ever see that dude again, I’m gonna cave his face in. Comprende?”

“HA-ha-ha!” Max laughed in fear, “Comprende mucho! HA-ha-HA! I bet…I mean, I’m sure he’s…long dead by now!”

“He better be.” Kyle growled.

“A guy like that? I’m sure one of his many enemies has already murdered him, so there’s no need to dwell on that ever again!” Max hesitated and aborted a jolly little punch to Kyle’s chiseled tricep.

Kyle ignored him, ironically, telling his story made him forget why he was telling the story in the first place. After giving the bouncer, Rudy, a nod and a fist bump, the two of them passed through the entrance doors of the Silver Mine without issue. Kyle tended to only be able to focus on one idea at a time and now that he was inside, all he could think about was finding Jamie fucking Reynolds.

#opening day #story #oc #original story #ao3 #writing #original characters #ao3 writer #wattpad #clerks #90s #nostalgia #videocore #Jonesy and Max #i havent posted this to AO3 or wattpad yet #i want to get closer to the end before i do #almost done #maybe one more chapter to go

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heli0s-writes · 3 years

Note

Bucky Barnes with a whole ‘heart eyes muthafucker’ hoe phase for reader but reader’s lizard brain isn’t connecting the dots and instead is like “somebody come get your mans pls he has a really dumb puppy look on his face and i am concerned for his health”

A/N: 800 words of nonsense and 1 conversation about Cap’s erection. Crack. Spicy like a little red pepper flake.

Bag of Tricks one-shots

You’ve always had a sixth sense about things. When you were younger, your family and friends often thought it was an ability— but in truth, it’s just a mixture of careful perception, logical thinking, and educated guessing.

A little Sherlock Holmes kind of talent. Except less cocaine and no Watson.

Regardless, Tony calls it your reading.

“Hey, mind-reader, tell me if Cap’s gotten laid in the past year or not?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably across the room, and that’s all you need.

“He’s gotten it way more than you. Real wild stuff. The girls could barely take it, Tony.”

Steve flushes a shockingly bright crimson and hides his face in his palms.

“Shit!” Tony cries in disbelief, panicking before making his quick exit, hollering for Pepper down the hall.

“Jesus.” Beneath your stretched-out legs, Bucky bounces his knee and tugs on his jacket spread over your shoulders. His other hand flips the pages of a book, forearm rubbing lightly on your thigh.

“That was just one time…” Steve mutters embarrassed, and you hide your knowing smirk. You didn’t have to read anyone’s mind to predict that in the last eight months Captain America has gotten laid at least once-- and considering his rabid fanbase, someone has got to be into something kinky.

Truthfully, you think, Steve’s probably the kinky one. All that pent-up energy for the last 70 years has got to be... explosive. Under your gaze, he squirms and rearranges himself awkwardly.

“Well, I gave you a gift: now Tony thinks you’re packin’ and you lay pipe. Use it for evil, Rogers.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Bucky groans again, “What did we say about your choice of words around others?” He snaps the book shut and slaps your chest with it.

Unbothered, you turn back to Steve, who is trying desperately to communicate to Bucky with his eyes— sharp jerking motions, probably code for the manual on how to shut you up. Nah. There ain’t one.

“Steve…tell me the truth,” You ask slowly, “It’s big, isn’t it?”

“Okay!” Bucky yells, pushing you off the couch, “That’s enough of that. I’m going shooting.”

Landing on your shoulder with a grunt, you brush away the rough sting of the carpet and catch the last second of his shadow before he’s gone from the room.

“What?” You call, projecting your voice and hoping he hears, “What’d I do? Buck!”

The scape of the chair legs signals Steve standing up, too. A shake of his head and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“You know,” he starts, “For all your insight, you’re pretty dense.”

There’s nothing in your head but sawdust and thoughts about his... measurements. You shake it out of your brain before it lingers too long. Steve points sharply down the hall to where Bucky’s shadow has slipped out of view and hearing-distance.

“You know he likes you, right?”

Uh? Your brain is the mac loading wheel, just spinning. “Of course he does? We’re buddies?”

Steve cuffs you in the back of the head, “Get it together. Like is putting it lightly, too. Love is closer to the truth.”

Then, he saunters off, shaking his head all the while, leaving you to gape down the hall like a fish. Bucky? In love? With you?

Flashes explode in your brain like fireworks. His jacket over your shoulders—not the first time. Sitting underneath your legs— nearly tradition. Morning jogs even though he hates them. The banter—him, scolding your motor-mouth, you— never stopping. Circles he rubs on your knees— the laughter—damn it, so much laughter.

Bucky? In love? With you? It’s more likely than you think. And you just spent ten minutes talking about his best friend’s dick.

A gasp. A choke and a wail somewhere deep inside your chest and then you’re outta there.

“Buck!” You scream, tearing down the hallway. “Buck! Bucky! I’m sorry! Bucky oh my god! I’m a fuck up!”

You bang on the glass separating you from the cracks of his pistol and he turns slightly confused, one hand on the side of his earmuffs.

You must look a wreck, hair in disarray and panting hard, his jacket, half-on, half-off.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, blinks at the way the front is sliding from your shoulder and puts the gun down.

“You’re so stupid.”

An annoyed sigh before a sharp inhale takes its place. He peels his bomber off your back and throws it onto the floor. His mouth hasn’t left yours for anything other than to breathe.

His hands stop at the button of his jeans. The room is spinning— the entire world moving too fast in a feverish haze. Years of close-quartered friendship and the first intimate touch has jumped right into the deep end. You don’t even know when the two of you made way back into his room, but the door clicks shut with a kick from his foot.

“Hey, mind-reader, I got two questions for you.” Bucky calls impishly. “First, how big do you think I am?”

“Second…”

You gulp. Your legs feel like jelly— all the smart words in the entire world wiped completely from existence. The pause he takes is punishingly long and the grin he gives you nearly makes you faint.

“Do you think you can take it?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #ficlet #mcu #marvel #crackfic #ask

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bluerose5 · 3 years

Text

Honesty is Key

Pairing: Scott Ryder/Jaal Ama Darav

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,487

Tags: Mass Effect: Andromeda, Pre-Relationship, Slight Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication, Loyalty Mission, Post-Jaal Ama Darav: Flesh and Blood, Emotional Hurt and Comfort

Scott couldn't take it.

He had been so close to losing him. His stomach churned at the thought alone. His hands shook, yet no amount of deep breaths or calming thoughts helped soothe his nerves.

Adrenaline coursed through him, showing no sign of letting up.

Scott had barely stepped foot on the Tempest before he was already rushing off to the bathrooms in quick, long strides. The others called out to him, but he ignored them. Their words were garbled, unintelligible. It was like listening to someone from underwater.

Thankfully, no one was in the restroom.

Using the codes that Kallo had given him, he overrode the Tempest's protocols and locked the doors behind him. Bile started to rise in the back of his throat, leaving a bitter taste that lingered on the back of his tongue.

Taking his helmet off, Scott tossed it aside. It hit the floor and cracked, but he couldn't find it in himself to care right now.

He had been so close to losing him.

Both of his knees buckled, and Scott barely had enough time to brace himself against the sink before they collapsed entirely. Running shaky fingers through his hair, he glanced up and met his eyes in the mirror. They were red, swollen, and puffy. Tears had started to stream down his cheeks without Scott even noticing.

His face was as pale as a ghost, and his stomach continued to churn until finally he gagged.

All he could see was that bullet slicing through Jaal's cheek, over and over again. If the shot had been aimed slightly more to Akksul's right, then he—

Before Scott could even finish that thought, he was stumbling through the bathroom. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, and his stomach heaved.

By the time his stomach was empty, his throat burned, and his vision blurred.

He couldn't stop trembling from head to toe, feeling as if he was coming apart at the seams.

"Pathfinder," SAM said through their private channel, "your vitals are consistent with those associated with extreme distress. Should I alert Dr. T'Perro?"

"I—" Scott managed to scrape himself off the floor, careful of the shards scattered around from his helmet's shattered facepiece. "No, I'll be fine."

Eventually.

Scott rinsed his mouth out at the sink, nose wrinkled in disgust.

Cleaning up as much as he could, Scott figured he could come back later and finish up.

Of course, the second he stepped out the door, he bumped into Jaal's chest.

Well, that dashed any hopes he had of making a quick escape to his quarters. Not that he should have expected any different. Jaal wasn't the type to avoid an issue when he could confront it instead.

At the sight of Scott's blotchy, tear-stained face, Jaal frowned.

"You are upset," he stated.

"Yeah, no shit."

It took Scott a whole minute to realize that he had said that aloud instead of keeping it to himself. Jaal blinked owlishly at him in shock, but Scott averted his gaze, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, face flushed with warmth compared to mere moments prior.

Jaal regarded him in confusion.

"Why are you apologizing for speaking your mind?" he asked, utterly baffled.

Right. The angara value openness and honesty.

Scott could work with that.

Hopefully.

"Mind joining me in my quarters?" Scott asked, eyeing the empty corridor with suspicion. Knowing his crew, he might not have them in his direct line of sight at the moment, but that didn't mean that they weren't listening in somehow. Call him paranoid, but Scott wasn't taking any chances. "I want to talk about what just happened out there."

At that, Jaal shifted uncertainly, wringing his hands together.

"Okay," he whispered, "but are you certain that we have to have this discussion alone?"

Scott narrowed his eyes at him, arms crossed over his chest.

"I would prefer to be alone, yes."

"You're upset with me," Jaal noted, but was he right?

Yes, no, maybe. Scott didn't know, but he wasn't going to have this conversation out in the open.

"Come on," Scott grumbled, dragging Jaal into his quarters alongside him. Once they were inside, Scott sealed the doors. "In you go."

"Scott—"

"Not. A. Word." Jaal snapped his mouth shut, and Scott jabbed a finger into his chest. "You are so—" Reckless, stupid, careless... There was so much he wanted to say, but it was near impossible to settle on one word alone. "—infuriating!"

It was nowhere near enough, but it would have to do for the moment.

Without thinking, Scott kicked at a nearby box. He didn't notice until it was too late that his body was thrumming with biotic energy, his frame enveloped in a bluish light. He sent the box flying into a nearby wall, where it shattered into little pieces.

Scott watched it fall apart, but he didn't feel much satisfaction from the act. Instead, he felt numb. Numb and drained.

Turning back to Jaal, Scott let his biotics fizzle out.

His face crumpled.

"I could have lost you," Scott whispered distantly, his voice thick with exhaustion. "I almost lost you."

Repeating it didn't help any. Reality refused to set in entirely. He still struggled to comprehend everything that happened at the Forge.

In the blink of an eye, Jaal had Scott wrapped up in his arms. Scott choked on a sob, burying his face into the crook of Jaal's neck.

He took a deep breath, Jaal's sweet, warm scent a constant reminder that he was still there. That he was alive.

"I don't have many people left that I care about," Scott whispered, finally giving voice to those feelings that had been bottled up for so long. "My mom and dad are both gone. There's no telling when Sara will wake up." He swallowed thickly past the lump in his throat. "You and the crew... You're all that I have left. My friends, my family, my colleagues."

He pulled away, just enough to stare pointedly into Jaal's bright blue eyes.

"And so much more," he breathed.

Carefully, he traced his fingers along the underside of Jaal's latest wound. At first, he flinched, but Jaal grabbed Scott’s hand and held it there before he could pull away.

If anything, he leaned even further into his touch, and Scott melted.

"I'm sorry to make you worry so," Jaal said, "but I'm grateful that you trusted me enough to refrain from bringing harm to Akksul. I know that it had to be a difficult decision, but acting against him would have only strengthened the Roekaar's cause. You did the right thing."

"Perhaps," Scott grunted, "but that doesn't make me feel any less like shit."

Jaal chuckled.

Tightening his arms around him, his rofjinn draped over Scott’s shoulders like a warm blanket, safe and secure.

Scott snuggled in close.

"Doing the right thing won't always feel fulfilling," Jaal said, "but thank you. Not only for that."

Scott furrowed his brow.

"What else do you have to thank me for?"

Jaal beamed.

Truth be told, he had no right to look that happy, not when Scott was mad at him. Sort of.

"For being honest with me." He shrugged. "I've noticed that you've been opening up more and more lately, at least compared to when we first met. It means a lot."

"Well, uh..." Scott trailed off, clearing his throat. "No problem. My family were never really the touchy-feely types. It's definitely new territory for me."

"Yet you take to it so well. Even when you're enraged, you're radiant."

Scott sputtered, then unraveled himself from Jaal's embrace, keeping a hold on his hand.

"Alright, on that note, it's time to go."

As he pulled Jaal along, Jaal grumbled in protest.

"Hey!" They exited the room together. "Where are we going?"

"To have Lexi properly clean and disinfect your wound before I kiss you, and neither of us want that." Before Jaal could get too hurt by that statement, Scott clarified. "Not until I've showered and brushed my teeth, at least. I'm a mess."

"Oh!" Understanding dawned on Jaal, but he decided to take a risk. "And after that? Will you kiss me then?"

Of course, about half the crew decided then —of all times— to emerge from the Crew Quarters, all of them stopping short when they heard Jaal's exclamation.

They tossed Scott teasing glances.

"Yeah, Scott," Vetra called out, "when are you going to give Jaal a kiss?"

"It would be rude not to," Peebee said.

With his cheeks lit aflame, Scott gaped like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled for words.

Why did he suddenly feel like it should be against the rules to bully the Pathfinder?!

Eventually, he said, "I should go."

And he hurried back to his quarters, tripping on his feet as their laughter chased him off.

#mass effect #mass effect andromeda #scott ryder #jaal ama darav #rydaal #scott x jaal #mrydaal #my writing #my fanfic #not so subtle nod to shepard at the end 😂#sorry in advance if tumblr scrambles the order again

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rootbeerrex · 4 months

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Anthropology 101 is the single weirdest fake dating plot I've ever seen but it's iconic honestly. but FUCK Annie x Jeff fuck that I hate that.

#uh oh! looks like someone is knee deep in the commune!#community

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twofrontteethstillcrooked · 3 years

Text

3 Oct. Suptober: Rainbows

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

s15 au; deancas

In hindsight, Cas was preoccupied, not only by the task at hand but by the person he was undertaking it on behalf of, which was likely why he didn't realize he had company in the bunker kitchen until Sam said, "Hey, Cas," and Cas almost fumbled the glass into the sink.

"Oof, sorry," Sam rushed to say next.

His expression was a variety of things, none of which Cas clocked as fundamentally apologetic while he refilled the glass.

Sam cleared his throat. "Whatcha doing?"

Cas squinted at him. Maybe Sam was drunk, or ill. "Just getting a drink of water." He left the statement there; Sam had seen him consume water before.

Sam fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt and did not look at Cas. "Sure. You." He made some kind of gesture with his hands that did not seem relevant to anything. "You seen Dean lately?"

"He's asleep," Cas offered, since he knew it to be correct.

"In his room?" Sam's voice cracked on the second word.

Cas drew out the word 'yes' into something of a question. What was Sam looking at on the ceiling anyway?

"His room. Which. You just left?" Sam bounced on the balls of his feet for a second.

Cas looked around for intruders, hex bags, strange fogs, spooky auras, blood stains, a bucket of empty beer cans -- something that might explain why Sam was speaking like someone who'd just learned English.

"Yes, Dean's room."

Cas suppressed a smile that wanted to surface as his thoughts quickly flitted to Dean -- Dean curled boneless beneath a body-warmed blanket, his eyelashes fanned dark against the tops of his freckled cheeks -- and back again. He sat the glass in the sink and stepped toward Sam carefully.

"Uh huh. Okay." Sam took a step backwards. His line of sight popped back up to the light fixture. "Wearing. ...What it is you're wearing?

Cas glanced down past his bare chest to the flannel covering his legs. "Pajamas?"

Sam nodded a series of tight little nods, like an invisible puppeteer controlling him was getting restless. "Okay. Okay. And Dean is." He didn't trail off as much as seem to run out of ideas for the rest of the sentence.

"Asleep," Cas reminded him.

Another Sam nod. "Right."

"He tends to fall asleep for a while within thirty or so minutes after we--"

"Dude," Sam said.

Understanding clicked into place. "Ah. I apologize, Sam," Cas said, with a small sinking sensation in his stomach. "I did assume Dean had told you."

He was leaving out some words, and he didn't mean to play coy; it just seemed like perhaps Sam would prefer fewer details over more with regards to -- how to say diplomatically? -- recent developments.

"Dean tell me? Really?" Sam stared at him directly for the first time the whole encounter. His pupils were big black dots reminiscent of the ones he'd had when they were all cartoons for a while.

"No." Cas paused. "But I did think maybe you just knew."

An honest confession, since Sam, a skilled hunter with decades of experience beneath his proverbial belt, was often quite good at discerning patterns beneath the surface of verbal communication. Cas had not always been as certain of his own feelings as he was in the present. Indeed, it had taken years for what he felt for Dean -- unfamiliar, prismatic impulses occasionally strong enough to almost bring Cas to his knees -- to coagulate into something fierce and unshakeable that could in part be described in words, much less translatable to more tangible actions. Just because Cas had been slow to realize the depths of his own emotions didn't mean Sam had been.

Except.

Sam's eyebrows jumped into his hairline like worms fleeing chicken beaks.

"What," he choked out. "Why. No. How would I have known about--" He was flinging his hands around again. "--This?" The hands flew toward Cas like Sam was casting a spell at him. "You are like my brother."

"Um," Cas said.

"And Dean is my brother."

"Uh--"

"And I have literally heard him refer to you as our brother."

"Right.”

"Like, we're all brothers here." Sam gave a helpless chuff of laughter.

"Okay."

"So you understand," Sam continued, "why I might be concerned that my two brothers are apparently sleeping together." The volume of his voice went lower in direct counter to its pitch by the end of the sentence.

Cas chose not to comment on this, nor on the shadow that lurked in the doorway and then dissipated. He said instead, "I don't really sleep all that much, but I take your point."

Sam buried his face in the palms of his hands.

"I'm." Cas swallowed. He stood a bit taller, the way a soldier might when either respectfully yielding to an enemy or accepting that opponent's surrender -- not that Sam was a villain here. "I'm sorry you found out this way, Sam."

"It's." Sam took a deep breath, then coughed once. "You don't have to apologize."

"Sam, could you... There is nothing on the ceiling that could be that interesting."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Sam spoke like he meant it, or at least wanted to mean it.

Cas let out an inward sigh of relief. "All right."

"The stress," Sam said. "What we do. Monsters. Apocalypses, plural. It's-- I know it's a lot." Now he had slipped into hunter wrangler mode, all rallying the troops and leftover law school pragmatism. "And I can see how the two of you might, you know, need to blow off some steam. Sometimes."

"Sam--"

"Dean always does get a little antsy when he goes a while without." Sam shook his head like he'd realized this was absolutely not a topic he wanted to think about. "You know."

"Sam," Cas said sharply.

"I'll stop talking now."

"I'm in love with your brother, Sam." Those truest words were spoken so easily that once upon a time it might have bothered Cas; in the present, it assuredly did not. He let Sam gape for a moment and then softened the statement with, "It's not just a casual, friends with insurance sort of thing for me. For the record. If that helps."

Sam looked like the human equivalent of the little tri-colored beachball that would spin and spin onscreen when one of his computer tablets got overwhelmed. Finally, his eyes cleared. "All right." His mouth quirked. "The phrase is 'friends with benefits.'"

Cas blinked. "Insurance is often a benefit extended to citizens in the United States, isn't it?"

"Less often than's helpful," Sam said.

Cas nodded. The two of them stood there by the sink, not really looking at each other. A thought came to Cas.

"I love you too--"

"Dude," Sam said.

Cas held up a hand. "--But I'm not in love with you." This distinction was one that had taken him a long time to understand; it seemed worth sharing.

The ceiling had recaptured Sam's fascination, but he was smiling when he said, "I know." He clapped Cas on the shoulder. "I love you too."

Cas returned the smile. "You, and Dean, and Jack -- you are all my family."

"Yeah." Sam ducked his head, as if pleased. "Yeah, I know."

Cas picked the glass of water up out of the sink. He raised it to Sam in a small toast. "Okay. I'm going to go back to Dean's room now."

"'Night, Cas."

Cas padded back down the hallway, opened Dean's squeaky door, and crept inside the room. The bedside lamp had been turned on. He watched the blanketed lump in the middle of the mattress for movement before asking quietly, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Most of it." Dean sat up and yawned. He scratched at the side of his head where his hair was sticking out. The blanket puddled below his pelvis. Cas glanced away like he hadn't personally and enthusiastically pressed those hipbones into the mattress less than an hour before.

When Cas walked around and put a knee on the bed, Dean said, "I also wanted water."

Cas bumped his arm with the glass. "This is for you."

"Oh," Dean said, taking it from him. "Thanks."

"Because I don't drink all that much water."

"Right."

"Because I don't sweat as much as you do."

"Hmm. You sweat some," Dean said, a hint of slyness in his tone. He leaned away to leave the water glass on the bedside table.

Cas sat on the edge of the mattress and let Dean scoot up to him. "Are you bragging about making me sweat?"

"Mmm," Dean said, splaying his hand over Cas's clavicle.

"You should probably talk to Sam in the morning."

"This is the morning."

"Later, then."

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's waist like he owned the span of it. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"Maybe you could just--

"Nooo."

A sharpness tapped underneath Cas's ribcage, an angel blade's point pressed with deliberate aim. It took a minute before he could speak. He gathered his courage. "If you want to stop--"

"No." The word fell from Dean like Cas had knocked it out with his fist. His eyes were fever bright and anguished, and another, better ache flooded Cas's chest at the sight. "No."

"I am very much in love with you." Cas took a breath. "Sam's reaction, I know, wasn't entirely out of nowhere."

Dean tipped his forehead to Cas's. "I don't think he was objecting so much as he was surprised--"

"I'm only saying, I have thought of you both as my brothers, at various times in the past." Cas studied, not for the first time, a collection of freckles on Dean's shoulder. "I still think of Sam as a brother, in a way. He may not be incorrect that the situation, as it has evolved, is something a bit… Atypical." He considered a further implication. "And each of us is one of Jack's dads."

Dean huffed, a bluff since his fingertips were memorizing Cas's vertebrae like he planned to sketch them later. "Well. We can't all be the goddamn Waltons, or whoever."

Cas agreed, "We definitely do not live on a farm." He let himself sway toward the ardent way Dean was looking at him. "It might be nice to live on a farm, with cows and ducks, maybe some sheep--"

"And I am very much in love with you too," Dean said softly. He pressed his lips to Cas's cheek.

"Yeah?" Cas's eyes felt hot.

"Yep."

Cas thought to say, "You know, Sam is exactly who you raised him to be: a good man."

At that, Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "New rule," he said hoarsely after several seconds. He wiped his eyes and shook his head. "We cannot talk about Sam, like. When we're not even dressed."

Cas stretched out his right leg and wiggled his foot. "I have on these pajamas pants. Can no-one else see them? They're covered in so many things."

This was an understatement. Technically, the pattern contained no less than the following items: rainbows, unicorns, blue whales, yellow stars, shield-wielding pugs, and anti-whale flags, whatever and why-ever those were. Put simply, the pajama pattern was like an indecipherable code of images that seemed to illustrate the illicit drug use of the manufacturer's designer.

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

Cas thumbed a spot on Dean's throat, his mouth going dry with the desire to taste the pulse fluttering there. "In my celestial wavelength form, I suppose I would be more closely related to a visually-deducible electromagnetic wave than I would be a pug riding a whale into glorious battle."

"These pajamas are a work of art," Dean contended, kissing Cas's temple. "Hmm."

"What?"

"I guess that story about God -- Chuck -- using a rainbow to seal a promise about never again destroying earth with a flood is just apocrypha, huh?"

Cas thought about it. "Yes. Unfortunately." He tried not to sigh. "Sometimes I have to remind myself Chuck created some beautiful wonders despite...being who he is."

"Yeah. Going out after a hard rain and seeing a rainbow's colors arching through the clouds -- still seems hopeful." Dean started pulling Cas down beside him on the mattress. "Maybe that's what reminds me of you."

Unable to speak, Cas tucked his face into Dean's throat.

Dean's fingers were slipping beneath the waistband of the pajamas, ever so slowly. "Anyway, these are mine." Cas hummed an affirmative. "I would like them back," Dean said.

"Now?" Cas heard himself gasp.

Dean pressed him onto his back to nose his way down the line of Cas's breastbone, his warm breath teasing over cooled skin and coaxing out a shiver Cas felt splintering through his whole body.

"I would settle for you just not having them on at the moment," Dean said, using both hands to reclaim his property, and before raising up to kiss anything Cas might have wanted to say in response entirely out of his mouth.

#spn #suptober21 #fic #deancas #suptober #destiel

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pretoriafics · 3 years

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If I wasn’t a goddamn werewolf - Pt. 2

Hi! First of all, thank you for my first 100 followers !! I can't believe someone really likes all of that crap I write here haha! I really don't know about the future of these imagines, so let me know if you want a part 3 or something. So, I just posted it here because I really want to break your heart. Here it goes!

Seems like Peter and Talia just figured out why Derek's plan to keep away from you is bad. But unfortunately for you, Peter is the one who does something about it. Word count: 2.052 Pairings: Reader x Derek Contain: Pure angst!! Warnings: English is not my main language <3 TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST PART 1 | PART 3 Gif credits here

Talia had tons of things that made her respected in the supernatural community. However, one of her most meaningful abilities was her smartness. Well, she was convicted that Derek made the best choice when he left you. But then, after thinking about the whole situation for a few days, her judgment changed entirely.

"Do you really think Derek made the best choice about back away from that girl?"

Talia was driving, with Laura at the passenger's seat. The question arose so suddenly inside that silent car that Laura looks at her mom with arched eyebrows.

"Are you still thinking about (Y/N) and Derek's drama?"

"Why? Shouldn't I?"

"Uh, well..."

"I think if someone dangerous knows about her and Derek, she could be caught easily. She doesn't know anything about the supernatural, so she's easy prey."

Laura blinks her eyes repeatedly, still trying to fit herself in the matter who suddenly appeared into the car.

"Mom, wait, I just can't understand. What are you talking about?"

Talia breaths in and talk slowly.

"I think (Y/N) is Derek's weakness. If I was someone trying to get him or manipulating him, I would love them to keep away from each other."

Laura finally caught the point her mom was talking about.

"Because she would be defenseless and easy prey. Someone could use her to get to Derek. Oh. Gotcha."

"We should do something about it."

Laura arched her eyebrows with a soft smile on her face.

"C'mon, mom. If you want to meet her, just ask her for a dinner night. I know you're curious about her."

It was Talia's turn to let escape a soft smile.

"My curiosity about her is just a secondary matter to keep her close. The main one is her safety and Derek's as well."

Laura's smartphone rings in her hands. It was Cora.

"Laura, you and mom are near?"

"Yeah, we're just a few minutes home. We are just coming back. I know something happened just from hearing your tone of voice."

"It was Peter. Come quickly. God, Derek will kill him."

Reform the old Hale house would put everyone into an aim to the hunters. So, Talia did something not too evident and bought a new home - where the exact location was unknown by the hunters. Talia parks her car in front of the new Hale house. She and her daughter get out of the car and walk inside the house with wide footsteps. When both of them enter the living room, Isaac, Boys, and Erica were frozen on the couch. Cora was on her feet, mad with rage.

"Are you fucking insane?!"

Peter was in front of her, with hands raised in front of his chest in surrender.

"But it makes sense! Look, she is completely defenseless without Derek. The Argent's could take her to manipulate him, and it would put all of us in danger. I just gave her a way to defend herself."

Laura and Talia look at each other. They don't need any explanations about what the heck happened.

"This was not your choice, Peter." Yelled Cora, with her eyes glowing with her inner wolf. It was Laura's turn to walk towards Peter, entirely pissed off.

"What the hell do you did?"

"I just bite (Y/N). Oh guys, really? Why all this drama? Now she will take care of herself, and Derek would finally take the girl."

The room is plunged into incredulity silence. Suddenly, Talia walks in Peter's direction and grabs him by his shirt. Her eyes were glowing red.

"Did you bite her after all the thing with Paige?"

"But what's the chance (Y/N)'s going to reject the bite as well, just like Paige? Don't you think it would be huge bad luck? I mean, two Derek's girlfriend dying for it? Oh, no, chances are minimal."

"There's no way for you to know, Peter!"

Talia knew that arguing with Peter would be such a waste of time. With this thought on her mind, she unleashes his shirt and lets out a long sigh.

"Where is she?" Talia looks for everyone, trying to focus on a problem per time. Erica's voice could be heard from the couch.

"She is upstairs, in Laura's bedroom. After the bite, she had an anxiety attack and just simply passed out."

"She saw you?"

"No, but she saw Cora. She was the one who found (Y/N) with Peter."

Suddenly, the front door opens. Derek got into the house just like the Devil himself, with glowing red eyes and a killer gaze. Without any hesitation, he runs in Peter's direction. Scott runs inside the house, and all of that action makes Talia predict what would happen - as well as Scott.

They were fast: Scott grabs Derek's arms in an attempt to hold him. Talia got in his way, staying in front of Derek and between him and Peter. Laura and Talia gave a step forward, prepared to put aside a fight. Isaac, Boyd, and Erica got up from the couch, full of adrenaline through their veins.

Then, Derek let out a loud and threatening roar to Peter. The one that made everyone shiver and cringe, and the one that echoed to far distance indeed.

Derek couldn't be put things straighter with his message to Peter.

The room dived in a deep silence after that. Trying to solve things - because of course that Derek was being unable to do this at that moment - Talia breaths in and break that heavy silence in the living room.

"You and you" She points her finger to Isaac and Erica "I want both of you upstairs, watching the door of Laura's bedroom. I don't want Peter near that door."

Isaac and Erica walk in wide footsteps in the direction of the stairs, going to the door of Laura's bedroom without questioning. Talia's sight was now focused on Boyd.

"I want you to take Peter to the basement. Don't let him leave, and watch him closely."

Well, after Derek's roar that did the entire house shakes, Peter even protested. He just goes in the basement direction, with Boyd near him. Now, her eyes were at her son. Without saying any word, she just shook her head in the couch direction in straighter request to Derek sit - which he did after Scott unleashes him.

Talia runs her hand through her face, already tired of all that mess. Why is it always Peter who causes the problems?

"Derek, look" She started, trying to call her son to reason "I know you are pretty pissed of and-"

"I will kill him!" He said, his eyes glowing red.

"It wouldn't solve anything, Derek. What's done is done. There's no way to come back. We need to deal with this now."

Derek let out a long sigh, with his eyes coming back to usual green. His gaze was lost in somewhere of the room. He was worried as hell because, well, he would never give you the bite. You could die, just like what happened with Paige.

Cora sat on his side, looking at her brother. With a soft voice and trying to calm him down, she said:

"Hey, calm down. She's fine."

"She's not fine, Cora." Now, Derek's voice was not full of angry, but worries. He was afraid of losing you definitely "I can smell her upstairs, and she smells like fear. She's terrified!"

It was Scott's turn to say something.

"She just needs some time, and she's not alone. We can help her to adjust. You did it with me, so you can do it with her."

"You forgot to say 'if she doesn't reject the bite'"

Cora's voice resurged into the discussion.

"Derek, she's fine. I took a peek at her, and I didn't saw any negative reactions to the bite. She's just pretty scared. I mean, of course, she is. Peter simply mutated himself in front of her."

Laura crosses her arms and looks for everyone.

"So... What will we do now?"

Derek stood up from the couch, with his mind cleared and the answer ready to be spoken.

"We will do what Scott said. We will help her and train her. She's one of us now."

No one protested. After all, it was exactly what should be done.

Derek goes upstairs, letting Laura, Talia, Cora, and Scott in the living room. When Derek approach Laura's bedroom, Isaac and Erica let the door behind and goes downstairs. They knew Derek would need some time alone with you. When he put his hand on the door's handle, he could smell your fear.

Derek breaths in. Damn, it would be so freaking hard to see you right now. He knocks on the door softly and opens it slowly. The vision of you broke every inch of his defenses.

You were hidden in the corner of the room, shrunken like a frightened puppy. Your knees were close to your chest, with your arms around your legs, sitting on the floor. Your face was wet, and your eyes were red in tears. When you saw Derek, you shrank yourself even more.

You were afraid of him.

In fact, Peter not just mutated himself in front of you. He actually told you the truth about Derek - and if he had just a few minutes more, you would know the truth about Cora and Laura as well. Now, knowing that Derek could turn himself into that creepy thing, you can feel only but fear.

Derek just stopped in front of the door. He wouldn't dare himself to take a step forward to you. Completely broken, he looks at you. His voice was low and soft.

"Cora told me what-"

"Please, call Laura."

Your voice was low and trembling. Derek could already see your cry approach. Your heart was racing, and your breathing was heavy. Derek didn't know what to say to you. At first, he just stays silent for a few seconds. Derek determines that he should take care of you and calm you down. But when he gave the first step in your direction, you shrive even more with new tears running down your face.

You were terrified by him - the one who, until yesterday, you wanted so much. Derek's heart ached with that vision of you, so scared. Scared to him, the man who loves you so much.

"(Y/N), please. I would never do anything that could hurt you."

"You already did."

His heart ached one more time with your words. It was true. Derek really had hurt you with his sharp words when both of you took different ways. Remembering all that tough words he said to you, Derek's gaze goes to the floor. He had his own reasons to say those awful things to you: It was just to keep you safe. However, you didn't know about that.

"I'm sorry." He said, after a few silent seconds.

"Call Laura. Please, call Laura."

Your voice was tired and almost a whisper. Gosh, all of that was so hard for to Derek absorb. He could deal with you making out with another man. But your fear of him...

It was too much.

"Hey. Can I talk with you?"

When Derek look back, he saw Laura with her crossed arms and a worried face. Without saying anything, he walks out of the bedroom. In the corridor, Laura just looks at him.

"Give her some time, Derek. She just needs a break. Her mind should be a full mess right now."

"I just wanted to see if she's okay."

"I know, Derek. But don't worry. We'll take care of her. Mom's making tea to calm her nerves. I'll keep you warn about everything. But, look, I think you should stay..."

"...Stay away from her for a while. Yeah. I got it."

Laura let out a long sigh, with her heart being broken into small pieces.

"Peter got everything worse, didn't he?"

It was his turn to let escape a long sigh. Derek crosses his arms.

"What do you think?"

"I'll solve this. I promise."

"Good luck with that."

Derek just simply walks away from his sister, going downstairs. Without saying a word for anyone, he took the car's key from his pocket and goes out of the house.

Derek just needed some time alone.

#teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf fanfics #teen wolf fics #teen wolf fanfic #derek hale imagine #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale fanfics #derek hale x you #derek hale x y/n

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Looking For A Place to Happen 6

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

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

Chapter 6: Making stops along the way

💀💀💀

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got business,” Bucky retorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, sure, when was it again?”

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

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

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

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

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

💀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Her, relax?” The mechanic scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No more for you, girly,” she chided.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No more, it’s too much!”

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

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

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

“They all suck,” you added.

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

“I’m not… not a kid,” you hiccuped.

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

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

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

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

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

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kcatta-wodahs · 4 years

Text

MC Who Does Not Fear Death x OM! Demon Brothers

Or maiming, or apparently any other consequences. You’ve walked into this situation with absolutely no filter and no fear. Time to tear down every structure of Devildom society.

Lucifer

You look at him with a withering stare when he tries to intimidate you into behaving.

“I was summoned out of my trashy apartment to this place, where literally anyone could snap me like a twig on accident. I’m just working on the assumption that I’m already dead.”

He sternly looks at you. “You’re under my protection during your time here. No harm will come to you.”

You snort derisively, which visibly irritates him. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t come back to haunt you if it happens.”

As you continue through your life in Devildom he keeps calling you out for meddling and all that, like usual, and he HATES that you literally *do not care* when he threatens you.

Like HE knows that he wouldn’t hurt Diavolo’s transfer student but YOU are supposed to be AFRAID of him dammit.

His frustration at this ends up turning into a form of respect. You’re about the only person who will stand up to him, and tbh like you’re so fucking fragile but you’ll yell at him all day? That takes guts. Annoying guts. But you’ve got guts.

But also STOP IT. He has enough stress in his life and now he’s constantly terrified that you’ve decided it’s a great idea to adopt a baby balrog

Which you did once. He’s just afraid that “Flamin Hot Cheeto” is going to come back since you somehow managed to imprint on it.

despite the fact that the BABY could easily tear your arms off on accident

Not to mention he gets the flack for EVERY SINGLE ONE of these following stories. You stress him out so much. Please. Please, stop.

He’s almost to the point of begging. The Avatar of Pride is three steps away from either locking you away for the rest of the year or begging on his knees for you to calm down.

But you know you’d find a way out if he locked you up so no worries. It’ll be a good challenge.

Mammon

“Well you WON’T be dead because it’s my job to protect you! Are you doubting the Great Mammon?!”

Stupid human. Yeah, you’re fragile and weak, but that’s why HE’S your bodyguard now, and there’s no way in hell (lol) that he would let you die on his watch.

Lucifer would kill him.

You welcome the challenge, and he thinks it’s funny at first but quickly becomes a flustered mother hen.

“NO, we are NOT going out to Madam Scream’s at 3am! Do ya know what kinda CREEPS are out there at 3am?!”

And you sneak out the fucking window.

He has had more heart attacks in the past week than he has had in the last 100 years of life.

He starts agreeing to your ridiculous adventures JUST because then he can actually keep an eye on you.

He adores the chaos of the laugh that bursts from you every time you narrowly escape death.

He HATES how often you have to NARROWLY ESCAPE DEATH. So he will never tell you.

He almost doesn’t have time for his own shenanigans anymore, because all his time is taken up by trying to make sure you stay alive.

And you’ve figured out that if you turn *any* of your ideas into a money-making one, he will join you whole-heartedly.

So you bribe him because what’s money to you anymore anyway?

Leviathan

I mean he doesn’t leave his room much, so tbh he probably just gets texts from you that make him want to scream.

‘hey uh levi say if someone were to hypothetically be stuck in a succubus’ devil basement to become an unwilling sacrifice to asmo what would that person, hypothetically, do?’

‘probably die’ is usually all he sends back

You always come back, because he always sends a text to the other brothers. In that case Asmo came to rescue you himself and scold the succubus.

You become the friend that he makes funny throwing-shade reddit posts about. (Devvit? Devil reddit? Eh??)

‘Levi so this has nothing to do with anything but is there a cure for a dangerously potent ‘always win at rock-paper-scissors' curse? Asking for a friend’

‘Friend is being held hostage tho so maybe be quick about a response’

He didn’t even know that kind of curse existed. None of them did. What the fuck did you do.

How did you get taken captive by playing rock paper scissors?

He doesn’t know. Nobody does. He expects the play-by-play so he can recommend it as a new anime to his favorite producers.

Somehow your chaotic plans end up with stories almost as great as TSL.

Beelzebub

He physically carries you around.

He’s like “fuck this you can’t get into trouble if I’m holding you.”

If Beel’s on MC watching duty, he’s almost the only one who is successful, just because you physically cannot get away.

But at the same time, he is very easily bribed.

So yes, he’ll go to Madam Scream’s with you at 3am. Sounds like fun.

But he is very protective after losing someone he cares about (who you remind him of so much….) so he keeps you close when you’re out and about too.

If you start getting into a fight with some other demon he literally just takes the fight for you and wins with no trouble at all.

You like having Beel with you.

Especially finding street festivals! You’re in a whole new world and there’s a MILLION things to try. Beel is more than happy to try them with you.

But that leads to arguments about whether deadly creatures to humans are still deadly when dead.

“No, you can’t eat that it’s on fire. I know even small fires hurt humans. I’ll eat it for you.”

“That hot sauce makes every demon I know cry. You really shouldn’t buy a bottle. Please. No, don’t try it. No, that’s too much for one-- oh. Oh no.”

He forgives you as long as you don’t actually get hurt and you give him your leftovers.

Asmodeus

“If I get wrinkles because of you I promise you will never hear the end of it. I will curse you forever.”

He swears on every single one of his lovers that you have started giving him grey hairs.

GREY HAIRS, MC.

Why can’t you just settle down and let them all take care of you? You don’t have to prove anything to the other demons!

But you will. You’re living in Devildom now, and by everything unholy, you are going to live that life to its fullest extent.

He was thrilled at first when you were all for joining him at his nightclubs and parties. Now he hides every party’s date from you.

That time you almost threw yourself off a balcony to try and emulate a very drunk demon’s newest dance move.

“I need to stay TRENDY, Asmo!! I’ll be fine!!”

Ever since learning Demonus doesn’t affect humans you have challenged every single stuck-up tough boy to a drinking contest.

And every single time you win, Asmo has had to *narrowly* save you from being killed by said demon.

And you just say “he deserved it” every time.

And like, yeah okay, he probably did but YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE.

Somehow, you manage to out-party Asmo.

dON’T TELL THE OTHERS but he lives for the times when you practically fall asleep on his shoulder while coming home from a rager. You may not get drunk, but when you’re sleepy, you’re so affectionate and something in his heart melts.

Satan

At first, Satan was all for the rebellious “life life with no restraints” thought process you explained to him.

I mean, he didn’t like the assumption that he and his brothers couldn’t control themselves to not accidentally kill you, but also… fair.

But he didn’t realize that this mindset followed through for EVERY demon in ANY place.

Including RAD, where old and wizened demons were *really* not used to being contradicted

Which led to you “accidentally insulting” your 5000 year old Human Studies professor by giving them a pop quiz on current memes (which they failed).

And left Satan as the one who had to make sure that said professor didn’t kill you.

And the thing is, this keeps happening.

You’ve written all over the school’s library books, pointing out every error.

You *continue* to argue with the demons who threaten to kill you when you say silly things like “No, Solomon did not learn his sorcery at Hogwarts because Hogwarts isn’t REAL.”

(Solomon, meanwhile, refutes you vehemently and seems to grow three inches taller every time you glare at him.)

Satan assures you that he values knowledge and truth and all that, but could you maybe find a less dangerous way to push it?

No can do, Satan, because you already had plans with Mammon to use a curse that writes the history of the actual Sorceric Academy that Solomon attended like 400 years all over the desks in Human Studies. It’s activated by anyone saying “Hogwarts”.

No, no, Satan, it’s brilliant, because you can’t do magic. It can’t be you who did it.

Satan, no don’t tell Lucifer.

I thought you hated him. Satan, wait.

You are the only person in the history of ever who convinces him to come to Lucifer for intervention. You wear that badge with pride and also deep, deep, bitter sadness.

Belphegor

Like, through the plot your willingness to be a thorn in anyone’s side just to get more information really works for Belphie.

He’s like all I gotta do is ask? Sweet. Yeah. Go, human.

But then when he’s all big and threatening and “im gonna kill you” and you just kind of look at him and nod like “yeah, this checks out.”

Frankly, that’s rude, MC.

And then he keeps threatening to kill you and it doesn’t even PHASE you like. You just keep listening to him rant and going “OH i think i get it now”

He liked that you were always looking for more information when he was the one pushing you around, but now?

No. Human, he is going to KILL you here, STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.

And then you do the time-travel bit, and see that he *literally has killed you in one timeline* and you just like

Shrug it off and keep talking about Lilith???????

Tbh what probably stopped him from doing it again is just that you’re fucking insane, MC

“MC, you literally just saw yourself dead in Mammon’s arms”

You wave your hand vaguely in his direction and say, “Yeah okay, but can we talk about the lack of communication in this household because it is tearing this family apart.”

What the fuck MC

When he’s back to normal, tbh he loves that side of you. He loves getting into shit when he’s not sleeping. He will 100% encourage you and be there to make sure that you *don’t* actually die again.

He’s the only one who doesn’t actually try to stop you. Who knew he was so into chaos.

But if you try to drag him to a plan when he should be sleeping he will be like Beel and literally just hold you down while he naps dammit. You brought this on yourself. He needs sleep.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shitposts #obey me crack #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #bast babbles #my writing #obey me headcanons #gender neutral mc #re-reading this makes me vibrate with the need to destroy things #tldr is that humans are fucked up

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stardust-kenobi · 3 years

Text

Let Me Help You

Obi Wan x Reader

Summary: Obi Wan isn’t very tech-savy, and he wants you to help him with his computer while you two sit in the Jedi Temple library. You offer your assistance, and decide to help him in other ways, too.

Warnings: smut, dub-con!!, male oral receiving, public oral sex

Word count: 2k

A/N: ⚠️please DO NOT read if you’re uncomfortable with dub-con. It’s not for everyone. (In this specific plot it’s used because Obi Wan is trying to be a good Jedi) Consent is slightly more clear right before the act.

This was requested by anon! Thanks lovely, hope you enjoy 💕

(my gif)

Obi Wan’s face became more frustrated by the second. You sat across from him in the Temple library. You’d joined your friend today because he wanted the company while he completed some tasks undoubtedly related to his Jedi duties.

“You alright?” You inquired, attempting to withhold a giggle at the sight of a man who is so usually calm becoming annoyed at technology.

“This datapad is going to drive me mad” he huffed. His fingers furiously tapped away at his attempted tasks.

“Sounds like a user-error” you teased him while continuing to stare at him. He looked up at you, obviously trying not to smile back. “And it’s a desktop computer, so, not technically a data pad” you jokingly corrected him.

“Well, whatever it is, it doesn’t like me very much” he remarked and returned his attention to the illuminated screen.

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to navigate the archives here but it keeps telling me I’m typing in invalid coordinates” his voice grew more annoyed.

“Would you like my help?” You offered kindly

“No, that’s not necessary.” He politely declined.

You waited, not responding, knowing he’d change his mind after another failed attempt. His eyes shot upward at you across the table and quickly looked back down, but then hesitantly returned to your gaze.

“Maybe I could use your help, y/n” he finally admitted.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought” you rose from your seat and headed around the table. You observed the room, and no one was around. You hadn’t seen anyone in the library since you walked in. You could probably hear a pin drop in the vast silence. You came around behind his chair and leaned down next to him. Obi Wan’s eyes could not have been less discreet as they peered over to your chest that was now at his eye level. Your shirt was low cut, and perhaps a little too tight, but nothing you wouldn’t normally wear. You noticed but said nothing to Obi Wan, just flattered that he wanted to look.

“Let me try and enter the coordinates. What were they?” You inquired. He gave you the same numbers he had been typing in. You unfortunately found yourself having the same issue he was having. Obi Wan laughed, mocking you for thinking it was his fault.

“User-error, was it?” He teased you. You shook your head and giggled.

“Let me try something else” you said. You attempted other methods in order to make it work.

“Why don’t you pull up a chair?” He suggested.

You looked around, there were no chairs close, except for your chair on the other side of the table.

“Oh no, that’s alright” you shrugged, but then an idea crept into your devious, sexually deprived head. You checked your surroundings again, no one was in the library. It was late, anyways, so it wasn’t unusual.

Obi Wan’s lap sat there, open and empty, legs spread open, as if it was waiting on you to fill the space. You slowly moved your hips downward and over onto his thighs. He didn’t say a word, protest, or even make a sound, until you were fully seated on his unprepared lap.

“Oh, um...alright then” he stuttered, unsure what to say, but didn’t reject you either.

“Sorry, I saw a perfectly good seat and took it. That okay?” You clearly played innocent.

He roughly cleared his throat and breathed out hard. His built up sexual tension was obvious, and you preyed on it guiltlessly.

“No problem at all” he chuckled, finally responding to you. Continuing to work at the computer in your new found seat, you rotated your hips side to side subtly, pressing more firm into him. Hardly any time had passed before you felt him grow aroused under your ass. You smirked, loving the effect you were having on him.

“Oh, there we go, it worked!” you announced suddenly. The screen displayed the archive location that he searched for, after tweaking with the settings for a bit.

“What worked?” He breathed out, clearly more flustered than the last time he spoke. It was as if he was snapped out of a trance. He was incredibly distracted and couldn’t even recall for the moment what you were even helping him with.

“The...computer?” You stated the obvious, turning around sharply to meet his eyes.

“Right!” He shyly remembered.

His erection was continuing to grow and he wondered if you could feel it against you.

“Something wrong, Obi Wan?” You asked him, Both of you were fully aware of what was happening, but the lack of direct communication refused to acknowledge it plainly.

“Oh, I’m fine” He replied, clearing his throat again.

“You sure? You seemed flustered” You pushed the conversation further.

“Y-yes I'm, uh, I’m sure” he stumbled over his words.

“Seems like you’re having a hard time with your words there, Master Kenobi” you purred, wasting no time dancing around the idea. “Well, something is hard” you smirked, getting close to his face while sitting sideways across his thighs.

His breath hitched in his throat when he heard your voice turn sensual. Obi Wan said nothing because he wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted you, that you could tell, but a man that lived so strictly by the Jedi code would be hard to crack. And in public? He’d be insane to let you seduce him.

“Y/n...” he groaned deeply. His body language communicating how hard it was to restrain himself.

“Yes?” You whispered while moving your lips to his bare neck. You placed your lips at his supple skin and pecked slowly and lightly.

“As lovely as this is, I can’t” he protested. “It’s forbidden for me to engage in this, y/n, you know that”

Regardless, your lips continued working at his neck. A hum, almost resembling a moan, crawled from his mouth.

“You’re telling me, that if I got on my knees, right now, right here in front of you, that you wouldn’t want me to suck your cock?” You purred so softly directly into his ear. You observed the chills that cascading down his body and you smiled against his skin.

“Stars, y/n, I’ve never heard you talk like this” He avoided the question, his breathing still tense. You felt his hips buck slightly up into your weight.

“I know how stressed you are, Obi Wan, let me help you” you offered. He looked into your eyes for a moment. Desperation was hidden deep in his gaze. He wanted a release, but had to make a decision of his morality and his loyalty to the Jedi Order.

“You want to do that to me...here?” He inquired the absurdity of your offered actions and especially there in public. His tone was so innocent and clueless to your attraction to him.

“Oh, Master Kenobi, it’d be my pleasure” you called him by his formal name yet again, even though you’d only ever called him Obi Wan. You assumed it might turn him on. You were right.

You softly press your lips onto his. He received your lips hesitantly, but then eagerly. You moved to straddle him, placing both legs on either side of his hips. You pushed your hips forward, curling them into his bulge. Becoming more comfortable with your touch, Obi Wan’s lips danced with yours passionately.

Butterflies fluttered in your belly as you finally acted on your eager built up desires for him.

“But, y/n, the Council -” he began again, breaking the kiss, and still worried for his long list of ethical restrictions on his life.

“I don’t see them here...do you? And we both know Anakin doesn’t follow the rules, does he?” You persisted.

“Well, no. I suppose you’re right” he whispered back, laughing quietly at your comment. He was nervous, but it was impossible for him to hide his new hunger for your lips around his cock.

“Allow yourself some fun, Master”

“Y/n, I want to, but I’ve never done anything like this before” He admitted casually.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you” you sweetly assured him.

“Okay, darling, but I do believe we must make this quick” he finally fully accepted the idea, but looked quickly around the very large room to confirm you were alone together.

“Oh it won’t take me long at all” you winked at him.

Removing yourself from his lap, his eyes never left you as he was unsure of your next step. You got on your knees in front of him, as you promised. His hands eagerly fumbled to pull his trousers down. You met his hands halfway and took over.

His cock begged to be let free from its restraints. Once the cloth passed his full length, it sprung out and met your eye level. He was so adorably nervous. You released a moan at the sight of him exposed to you.

You wrapped your hand around him and the contact made him twitch. He breathed out heavily as he’d never been touched like this by another person. Your eyes met his lustful gaze. You raised your eyebrows, non verbally asking If he was ready. He nodded his head, and you proceeded.

Your lips parted widely to bring him into your mouth. Your eyes locked as you lowered your mouth completely down his length, taking all of him into you. A feeling so unfamiliar to him caused Obi Wan to grip the arm rest of the chair. He breathed in sharply, and exhaled the sweetest moan. Using the moisture from your mouth, you glided yourself up and down slowly.

“Oh my stars, y/n” he whispered. You two knew you still needed to be quiet, in case someone was close.

Obi Wan was so sensitive and touch starved beyond belief. No matter how hard he tried to muffle himself, he was unsuccessful. Your ears were graced with the delicate sounds escaping his lips as you brought him more pleasure than he’d ever experienced before.

“Fuck” he cried, already so close to his climax from your skilled motions. Vulgarity flying from him was a new sound to you and it earned a warm sensation inside of you.

An aching formed between your legs, a feeling of pleasure that was all too familiar to you. You wanted him to take you right then and there, but you’d surely get caught. Another time, you thought.

Removing your mouth to rest your jaw, you pumped your hands around him. You looked up at him, his eyes had still not broken contact with you while you created a euphoric form of pleasure for him for the first time.

“Y/n...” he whimpered

“Yes, Master Kenobi?” You cooed and smiled at him. He formed a grin down at you that quickly turned back into his O-face as you pumped him faster.

“I’m...oh my” he started, his body couldn’t stay still.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Oh, yes, y/n. I’m so close. I’m gonna cum” he whined.

You returned the moisture of your mouth back to his cock and sloppily, yet rhythmically, sucked him continuously, responding to the way his body moved and the sound of his moans. The veins in his length twitched and his hips shifted.

Obi Wan threw his head back in ecstasy and just then you felt your throat become coated in his hot cum. The suppression of the growls that formed from his climax was intense and deep, somehow loud and quiet simultaneously.

You swallowed him up and removed your mouth from his sensitive parts. Obi Wan’s head was still laid back, you watched as his chest rose and fell with the effort to catch his breath.

“Was that alright?” You asked, giggling, knowing the answer already.

“Well, I...darling that was...incredible” he finally expressed in between his deep breaths.

You helped him pull his trousers back up and plant a kiss on his cheek as you stood.

“Glad I could be of some assistance for you tonight” you winked.

He was blushing, still in disbelief that you two just engaged in such an act. He was so precious and shy about the whole thing, but enjoyed every single second of it.

“Perhaps maybe I can help you next time, hm?” He suggested. You bite your lip, already growing eager for the next time you’d be alone with him.

Kinda wanna make a part 2??

#Obi Wan #Obi Wan Kenobi #Obi Wan x reader #Obi Wan Kenobi x reader #obi wan x fem!reader #Obi wan x male!reader #Obi wan x gender neutral reader #Obi wan smut #Obi wan Kenobi smut #Obi wan fluff #Star Wars smut #aotc #rots #tpm #my gif #Obi wan Kenobi gif #Obi wan gif #my work #scheduled

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bunny-hoodlum · 3 years

Text

Asynchronous With You: Ch 5

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (maybe mature later)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication/Noncommunication, Found Family

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

Neji met them outside the dorm gates. As generous as his dorm-mate Lee was, he couldn't ask him to step out for their sake.

They followed Neji to a nearby linear park that segregated the school grounds from the business park on the other side. It felt like a glass-less greenhouse, with polished granite beneath their feet and a vine-carpeted roof overhead. The benches were slabs of granite, as were the other fixtures, like an orb fountain in the center, with flawless skin of water running over its surface. The full trees muffled the night, with its crickets and distant chugging cars. The gentle, steady trickle contrasted against their footsteps, like two off-tempo drums and hers a mournful castanet.

Now that they were finally here, she was beginning to lose her nerve, she was forgetting what she had to complain about.

All that mattered was that she was healthy, right? All that mattered was that they were actually taking good care of her.

But the last thing she said to her, telling her to go home, saying that at least one of them should be loved by their parents, it began to eat at Hinata.

Could it be that she doesn't have any love to come home to?

Like resonance, her soul trembled and her ribs ached. The heel of her palm pressed against the skin between her wet eyes.

"I've become like them. I messed up."

The bench caught her before she could sink down to the ground.

"What're you talking about?" came Naruto's voice, barely reaching her ears.

"You mean Aunt and Uncle?"

Hinata nodded.

"What??" Naruto smacked his forehead rather hard. "How were you supposed to act?! They knew where you were! Nothing was stopping them from taking you guys back--"

"We don't know that." Hinata argued.

"Bullshit!"

"We don't," Her shoulders lifted, turning rigid. "They could barely take care of the two of us. It would've been the same if they had to take care of two daughters--"

"What about visits? What's so hard about keeping in touch?!"

She stayed silent. It wasn't that she hadn't considered that, it was that it was too upsetting to ruminate on any deeper.

"Ten years, Hinata. They had to have lied to her, right? Raised her believing she was an only child? C'mon, why aren't you angrier about this?!"

She wasn't sure if it was defiance that lifted her chin, but the eyes she chose to meet were Neji's as she implored him join in.

His eyes closed as he released a pensive sigh. "What's she like?"

"Don't change the subject," Naruto snapped. "Hinata needs to vent."

She prodded Neji with her stare. He shook his head.

"Who are you talking about?" Neji punctuated his rhetoric with a sidelong glance, causing Naruto to bristle. "This Hinata?"

"Yeah, this Hinata. Our Hinata. What the fuck, we've shared the same home for ten years! Hinata! You vent! You vented the other month about your-your shirt!" His face reddened as he brought up, perhaps, the worst example he possibly could.

"I was in a weird mood," Hinata said quickly, giving Naruto whiplash.

"A--A 'weird' mood?! What, like you just felt like messing with me kind of 'weird'??"

Hinata lamely shrugged her shoulders before curling in on herself like an armadillo. She could only imagine how exponential his irritation was to increase. She should've answered Neji's question right away instead of trying to convey her complaints to Neji, because now they were getting way off topic. Which was ironic for Naruto, who thought Neji was the one diverting attention away from her pain.

Neji pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what the story is, and I don't think I want to know."

"Good. 'Cuz I don't want to talk about it." Naruto huffed as he crossed his arms.

Silence lapsed around them. Somehow Hinata was rather surprised their arguing managed to fizzle out on its own and so quickly. The past was almost laughable in how different it was from the present.

'That's right. It's always going to be rocky at first, but it takes time to get used to one another.' This was proof that she and Hanabi could grow into sisters no matter how much time had been lost.

"Her name's Hanabi. Her favorite foods are bananas and milk, and she hates the herb mitsuba. She's cheerful, cheeky, and surprisingly athletic. And... I really want to get to know her better." The tears fell swifter and harder on her lap as she re-conjured the heartbroken betrayal she had put on Hanabi's face.

She really hoped it wasn't too late.

Neji joined her side and rubbed her back, while Naruto kept his distance.

Even though he had been given Neji's explicit blessing years before, somehow it didn't feel appropriate for him to console her too.

Looking at them now, it was like those two had never grown apart, not even a centimeter. And they had been communicating with their eyes, he was sure of it. Speaking around him, because he wasn't actually a part of this.

They're what real siblings look like.

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Taking the midnight train back home, Naruto spent the next thirty minutes absorbed in the things that amused him, from sexy two-minute shorts, to prank compilations and this one guy from Kaminari that totally bites at rapping. Absolutely no one, neither he nor his 745k followers know if he's a comedy channel where he's bad on purpose, or if he's just gotten popular for all the wrong reasons, but watching him never fails to inspire a deep gut-laugh from Naruto.

Because he wouldn't be laughing this hard if something was bothering him, especially not a whole host of somethings.

He ignored how arriving at their station didn't feel quite right, how following Hinata didn't feel normal.

He was surprised when she finally started talking to him, yet the weariness her voice instilled was not lost on him.

"Who was the first girl you liked?"

"Hm? Oh, guess that'd be Sakura-chan."

"I see. And how old were you when you knew?"

"Eight, I guess?"

"Eight," The number floated from her mouth in an amazed whisper, "Do you think somebody already likes Hanabi-chan?"

A blond brow perked up. "Is this that protective Onee-san instinct kicking in already?" When she giggled, his heart sank.

"I suppose it is."

And when the silence closed in on him again, he spoke up to keep it going. "Uh, what about you?"

Her steps faltered for a second, then picked up with an exaggerated bounce. "There's someone."

"Still? Like, ongoing?"

"Mmhm."

Naruto blinked rapidly, whiplash striking again. How? How did he not know his sister liked someone? "Since when?"

"Mmmm," She hummed that note a little too long that bordered on mocking him, and he was about to storm on ahead of her, until she said, "Third grade."

"What?!" Ineloquent as that was, he somehow expected her to answer him. He stood there as she traipsed away, waiting until he was finally fed up. "Well, who the fuck is it?!"

"Guess."

He jogged after her. "Kiba?" His mouth soured at the thought.

She crossed her forearms into an 'X', making the buzzer sound in game shows when the contestant got the answer wrong. "Bubuu."

"Shino?" He didn't know what to think about that if it were true. Guess they were both quiet and smart and a little weird. Is that what compatibility looks like?

"Bubuu," she went again.

What other guys was she in contact with?

Shikamaru was a good friend who came over to game sometimes, but he definitely didn't sense anything there. No, no way it could be him. And everyone was pretty sure Sai was asexual.

"Sasuke?" Why not? He was the school heartthrob nine years running. Didn't matter whether Naruto understood the taste of girls or not, they all wanted him. He kinda wishes he noticed sooner now, because he imagining a plain girl like her pining for someone unreachable and he really hates that for her. When she slows to a stop under the streetlamp, he thinks he's finally figured it out, though the truth ended up being really anticlimactic in the end.

She half-turns towards him, her face blank save for the edge of distaste clinging to the corners of her lips and eyes.

"Gross."

He reeled back. "Gross? Whaddya mean gross?" She continued on her way, forcing him to jog after her. "Hey, I can't believe you think he's gross! Are you just being a contrarian?" Her pace picked up faster. "Y'know, like what unpopular girls do when they can't fit in?"And faster. "You really think he's gross?" She was hurrying on ahead and he was trying to catch a glimpse of her face, just a little bit of veracity. "Hinata?!"

They arrived at the steps of their apartment.

"You have until graduation to guess!" She called over her shoulder as she ran ahead, her voice pitching high at the end.

She was upset.

Her footsteps resounded through the corridors like frantic clapping, but he wasn't being congratulated at all.

It was finally apparent to him that he hasn't paid attention to Hinata in a long, long time. That's why Neji was making fun of him.

He took the elevator to their apartment, and when he reached the hole between their bedrooms, he got down on both knees and crouched his spine. They haven't used this in years, he couldn't believe how small they used to be, this hole had to be over three feet from the floor. It was making his back hurt. "Hinata," He bit his tongue with a pause. "What happens if I can't guess by graduation?" Nothing. Just silence. "Hinata? Are you not going to talk to me anymore?"

"Yeah," If a ghost could croak, that's what it sounded like. "If you can't guess by graduation, I'm not going to talk to you anymore."

He palmed the wall as he drew to full height, then stepped away, neither urgency nor insult registering in his chest. He didn't know what was in there. Maybe nothing. He raised his voice a little, just enough so that she could hear.

"I'm going to take this another weird mood of yours, okay? There's no way you really mean that."

Hovering for half a second more, he didn't give her time to respond as he headed for his bed on the opposite side of the room.

Maybe Sakura had the right idea about family. Maybe it's better to just find your own.

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AN: Lel, I totally forgot to add the summary and ratings thing in the last chapter. 😜😅 Hope you liked this one!

#asynchronous with you fanfiction #naruhina #naruhina fanfiction #naruto x hinata #chapter 5 #modern au

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