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fightxxmexxshiggy · 4 years ago

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Work from home

BAKUGOU x female reader

Word count 2200

TW: cervix play, degradation, implied threesomes.

Ugh why did you decide running was going to be your exercise for this bet?! Really the bounce of you breasts was gonna knock you into a coma before you made it to the 30 day goal. You wanted to give up or even try to negotiate for a different exercise but you knew your friends would poke fun at you if you whined about this to them. Steeling your nerves you hit the hill in front of you with a jumping sort of run hoping it would make the trek upwards a little easier. This was a mistake that you might never forgive yourself for. Your knees hated you, your breasts were screaming for the torture to end, to top it off the sweat running down your back decided to drip between your ass cheeks causing the nastiest feel ever.

Finally giving up on making it up the hill in one shot you wandered to the side of the path. Sitting on the nearest flat rock you took some deep breaths with your head through back in Hope's more air would come to your overworked lungs. After about five minutes you had calmed enough to stretch a bit so you didn't start cramping randomly. Catching the sound of footfalls your eyes shot open to watch as the most jaw droppingly sexy man you had seen in months jog up to you. Fucking. Shirtless. Letting your eyes devour that incredible expanse of skin you almost didn't hear him address you.

" hey Dumbass you hurt or something?" Immediately getting irritated at the insult you growl out an assurance of your wellbeing and go back to stretching. For what ever reason the rude, attractive man comes to a full stop in front of you. Refusing to look up at him you instead stretch your arms above your head and roll your hips to crack your lower back. Slowly lowering your arms to sit behind you, your eyes open to see the man still standing there as if waiting for you. That is kind of weird so you stare at his face daring him to try something. With a hum he grins and crouches down so that your eye level. " I like you attitude, tell me are you busy after this?"

Shock took over your expression as he laughed, waiting for you to answer. Why would someone who looks like a prize fighter wanna spend time with you? Not to say that you weren't beautiful but you had curves that would make you a pinup girl not the clothing model men like him are usually seen with. The disbelief must have over powered the shock on your face because his grin shifted into a smirk. Standing back to his full height the man stalked to where you sat. Leaning over you he placed his hands right beside where yours rested. The move put his chin on your shoulders and his lips right on your ear.

" you really have no fucking poker face babe. I'll be straight with you, you are exactly my type. I wanna take you back to my place right now and wreck that pussy like it deserves." The feeling of his breath on your ear as he spoke gave you chills. His words hit you right in your core, a moan slipping from your mouth before you could stop it. He let out an animalistic growl before licking the length of your neck. Jerking back you stared into his eyes unsure but more and more interested in his proposal by the minute. Slowly he lowered his lips to yours, the kiss started of gently as if he was seeking something. After a few moments the gentle kiss turned savage almost like he was trying to show you what fucking him would be like. Whining deep in your throat you sucked on his tongue when he thrust it past your teeth. The move had him pulling back from the kiss and yanking you up the rock to rest flush against his muscled body.

" Tell me yes Dumbass I won't take you unless I hear it from your mouth." Using your closeness you trail your hands down his sides to rest against his hips. With your nails you trace a swirling pattern to his lower back before pressing down to leave light scratches from right above his ass all the way to his shoulders. The groan that left his mouth only made your pussy gush more juice onto the seam of your workout leggings. Once his eyes met yours you smiled sweetly. " yes but only if you tell me your name first."

Laughing he pulled away from you, grabbing your hand as he dragged you up what was left of the damned hill. With a quick smirk over his shoulder he shot out a quick " Katsuki Bakugou." You mumbled out your name between panting breaths as the completely unwinded man continued to drag you up what you were now calling the hill of hell. Before walking the rest of the way to the parking area, still holding your hand by the way. Stopping in front of what you assumed was his car he turned to you. "Ride with me or follow in yours?" Blushing you mumbled that you'd follow him in your car. Nodding in approval he walked you to your car a couple spots away. Unlocking your car you went to open the door only to have Katsuki stop you. With a hand on the nape of your neck he pulled you into a searing kiss unbothered by the few other people milling around.

Ending the kiss he leaned in close to whisper in your ear. " keep that pussy wet for me babe. I'm hungry and I plan to make you my meal." Well this was so not how you expected to end your daily workout but so far you were not fucking disappointed. Sexy asshole eating you out was a much better after run reward than the peice of chocolate cake in your fridge back home. Getting into your car and on the road behind Katsuki you followed him the 15 minutes drive to his place. Seeing the beautiful brownstone had your nerves launching into overdrive. Were you really about to fuck a man you met 30 minutes at a park? Watching him get out of his car and stalk over to your you realized that yes you were going to fuck this man because it would be a sin if you didn't.

Not one to go against the universe you let him open your door and help you from behind the wheel. Slamming the door shut he pressed your back to it and once again fucked your mouth with tantalizingly long tongue. Finally he had his fill of your mouth and slung an arm around your waist as he walked you up the stairs and into his impressively clean home. Shoes were kicked off at the door and clothes were pulled of with haste. In the bedroom the two of you fell onto the bed in a tangled mess of need. Crawling back until he was kneeling on the floor with your ass on the edge of the bed to give him access to the soaked hole between your pussy lips he growled.

"Look at this slutty little hole, leaking everywhere it needs to be punished." With one hand he held open your folds, with the other he layed a series of light smacks on your clit. The action only cause more juice to flow from your hole dripping down your cheeks onto the comforter below. Sticking out his tongue Katsuki licked a path through your juices to your abused clit. With sucking kisses he soothed away the small pain he had inflicted. Sucking harder he ran small circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue. Slowly he inserted two fingers into your pussy curling and thrusting them against the sensitive tissue. The fingers stroking against your gspot driving you closer to the finish line. Suddenly Katsuki shoved his fingers deeper until the tips brushed your cervix. The sensation like nothing you had ever felt, your hips jerked had nearly dislodging his mouth. With a growl he wrapped his free arm around your hips and gripped hard.

The arm around your hips should have been a warning but seriously how were you to know the man was a damn pussy master. Sucking and running his teeth over your clit he rubbed circles around your cervix until he hit a never before touched spot inside you. That was it he hit jackpot as you came screaming, squirting uncontrollably into his mouth as he moaned and drank happily. When you finally came back to your body you fell limp, muscles unclenching from their locked state.

"So good for me baby, so sweet and tasty, gonna fuck you till this pussy begs me to own it." The praise and promises flowing from his usually cocky mouth made your womb twitch something that relight your desire instantly. Whining you reached for his cock intent on getting a taste before he got inside you, you were 99% sure he would not be taking it from your pussy anytime soon once he worked his way in. " you want a taste of this cock little slut? Only a taste though I've got a some demolition to do." Kneeling by your head he ran the tip of his angry red cock across your lips. Tongue peeking out you licked the slit tasting the salty precum that had gathered there. Opening wide you sucked in as much of him as he would allow, lips stretched, tongue swirling and rubbing the underside. Katsuki threw Back his head groaning at the sweet suction. Pulling from your mouth with a loud pop pushed you to the middle of the bed.

Smooth his hands over your legs he caught the underside of your knees in a firm grip. Knees pushed to your chest framing your breasts in a breathtakingly sexual display he stared at you until you understood what he wanted. Taking hold of your legs you kept them in the position he demanded and watching as he rubbed his cock head through your folds stopping at every upward swipe to tap against your clit. Lining his cock up he fit the head into your hole. With measured strokes he worked every inch into your nearly too tight pussy. Crying out with every stroke it took all your strength to keep your legs in your hands. Finally he bottomed out, so big inside you that it felt like you would split in two. Leaning forward Katsuki gripped the sheets by your head as he started to thrust slow and deep. "Keep those pretty eyes on me baby, I wanna watch you break."

Each thrust had his cock head kissing your cervix, the pleasure threatening to make your eyes roll back in your head. All of the was too much you felt to open but everytime you went to close your eyes he would growl and pound into your pussy. Angrily saying "look at me slut." Until you would scream as an orgasm washed over you, eyes flying open with the shock of the intensity. As soon as you would look at him he would go back to his slow deep thrusts, sometimes catching your lips in a tongue fucking kiss. You had cum so much that you could barely see, vision foggy with pleasure. Unexpectedly katsuki stopped his strokes to stare at you. " baby I need a little favor from you." With effort you focused your eyes on his face and nodded your assent to horse from screaming to speak properly.

" I need you to be a good girl and take my cum."

With no other warning than that Katsuki pounded into your pussy, slamming against your cervix while you wailed his nail to the ceiling. On his final thrust he bottomed out grinding himself against your clit until you once again squirted for him, only this time he was cuming deep inside you flooding your womb with his hot load. No strength left in any of your limbs you let your legs fall as he rested his head between your breasts, trying to catch his breath while you tried to figure out if your still had lungs at all. In the distance you thought you heard a door open and close but you couldn't be sure with the limited brain function you had at the moment. A few moments later your question was answered as a red headed man with sharp teeth leaned a shoulder against the door.

"Damn bakubro you brought home a whole meal after your run didn't you. Think I can have a taste?"

The little clench those words elicited in your pussy had Katsuki's head shooting up off your chest to look at you. Blushing furiously you tried to look anywhere but at him. With a groan he slowly pulled his cock from you , his cum dripping out of your hole slowly. " her pussy seems to say yes but why don't you let us clean up a bit and we can see what her mouth says, shitty hair." Oh you were fuck quite literally.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou smut #bakugou fanfiction #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima smut #kirishima ejiro x reader #mha smut #bnha simping hours #bnha smut

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orlissa · 4 years ago

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So now we have “BatCatPussyGate” or whatever, and I have some thoughts on it—I mean, it does intersect with my area of research.

In case you missed it: a scene where Batman goes down on Catwoman was not included in the Harley Quinn animated series, because, basically, a Batman who gives oral is bad marketing, and makes merchandise hard to sell (they did use the word “toy” in the statement, but you just know they meant action figures aka collectibles aka whatever older male fans buy). It is not even the first such scandal involving Batman in recent years, but we’ll get to that later.

There is a LOT to unpack here, so let’s get started. I’ll try to make it as coherent as I can, but this post still might be a bit of a mess.

First of all, we have to make one thing clear in which Marvel and DC differ from each other (I think I might have talked about this before, but it bears repeating): it’s what I like to call “hierarchical structure of characters.” Basically, Marvel’s structure is like the nervous system: there are interconnected nodes, but no one, clearly defined center. The Avengers are important, but so are the X-Men, and Spider-Man, and the Fantastic Four… Plus Wolverine has been an X-Man and an Avenger, Spider-Man has his own lore, but he has been a member of the F4… you get the picture. A big pro of this structure is if that one node falls (a series doesn’t sell), it’s no big deal, because the system remains standing, so, basically, you can experiment with stories. If it doesn’t stick, it doesn’t stick, you move on. DC’s structure, on the other hand, is more like a spider web: you have the Holy Trinity—Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman—in the middle, and everything else connects through them. And if the center falls… everything falls. Which means that even though the Holy Trinity has HUGE cultural visibility (greater than of any single Marvel character), they are pretty much set in their ways. They cannot change much, because what they are now is what sells, and any significant change in representation might lead to failure, which then in turn would lead to the failure of the whole spider web. (I have a like 40 pages long paper on how, because of this, Wonder Woman needs to continuously appeal to both the male—sexualizing male gaze—and the female—identifying female gaze—gazes, compared to Carol Danvers, who keeps jumping between the two ends throughout her publication history.)

And within this scheme, Batman is the picture of hypermasculinity. He is powerful, intelligent, cannot do wrong, closed off from his emotions, and women fall for him, even if he cannot properly commit to a romantic relationship (this last thing is something that goes back to the Silver Age of comics, because male heroes just cannot have love, because nothing can be more important than their vigilantism, while female superheroes are lesser, because they are ready to hang up their capes for love).

Then what does academia has to say about this? Note: I’m going to be talking a lot about stuff that film criticism came up with, but since both movies and comics are a visual narrative medium, I’ve found that you can pretty much project everything about movies to comics.

So, first of all, one big shortcoming of feminist film criticism is that (not entirely unjustly) it is mostly focused on how women are portrayed in movies—especially how they are oppressed and objectified, while it leaves men/male characters… unstudied. Masculinity studies exists, but it’s pretty new and marginal. The availability of male bodies in film to the female gaze is also mostly unexamined (but I’ve dabbled in it! Talking about sexy male bodies in a detached academic manner is fun!), and it’s somewhat of a problem.

Richard Dyer studied the peculiarities of male pinups, and he came up with three instabilities: 1, it violates the codes of looking (because traditionally it’s the men who look, and women who are being looked at), 2, it rejects passivity (because being looked at is read as being passive, and the male body is supposed to be active, so, usually, male and female pinups are posed in a totally different way), and 3, it breaks the myth of the phallus (male power signified by the penis)—because once we start looking into it, we’ll discover that the phallus just… cannot live up to the hype. Therefore not studying the male body/male presence and focusing on the female body/presence actually serves the patriarchy, because the phallus can only keep its central, dominant position until it remains unexamined. Once we look into it, we discover that it’s not that great, and then we can displace patriarchy.

And then what does it mean in practice? Here comes the other Batman scandal I mentioned: about three years ago, DC came up with their new line of comics, where the big draw was the total lack of censoring. It was promised to be super bloody and full of gore and cursing and stuff. The first series of this line was Batman Damned, and the first issue featured the… batawang. I mean Batman’s penis. Returning from some mission, Batman starts undressing the moment he steps into the Batcave, stripping naked, and on some panels one can clearly see… little Bruce. It had no point. It could have easily been brushed out, and it would not have looked out of place. Or course, the internet had a field day with it, about the same way they are having a field day with his lack of oral sex now. It grew so big that within a couple of days DC announced that they’d airbrush out the batawang in the second printing and in any subsequently sold digital editions (which then caused the price of the first print editions skyrocket, to some $300, I believe). So to sum up: DC showed Batman’s penis for shock value. Seeing Batman’s penis wasn’t awe-inspiring, a show of power, but the butt of the joke—because examining the phallus shows that it cannot live up to the hype! So Batman’s power, his standing as a masculine ideal/male power fantasy was misplaced in a moment. (Something similar was happening behind the scenes of the Watchmen series as well: when Tom Mison had a full frontal nude scene, they actually used a penis-double—as there was no shot where his face and penis was shown at the same time—now imagine the casting for that role!)

In some way, this is happening now as well—not showing Batman performing oral sex is not because it “hurts toy sales;” it’s because it breaks the myth of the phallus, thus it breaks the myth of the Batman as an immaculate male power fantasy. Batman receives—power, admiration, and, of course, sex. But within the framework of sex, he needs to be the one that dominates, the one that mostly on the receiving end of the pleasure. What is important is that 1, he gets the woman and 2, he gets off. Whether the woman gets off is unimportant within this framework, because it doesn’t serve the myth of Batman/the male power fantasy. Within the fantasy, women need to want to sleep with him because he is Batman (because the male reader identifies with Batman, and he needs to feels as if the women in the comic want him just because he is him/Batman), but if he performs oral sex on the woman, it presupposes an active need for effort from his part from her to want him. It gives her agency, which elevates her to a partner, not an object to-be-looked-at.

So if Batman performs oral sex, his body will be put on display as something beyond the realm of the male power fantasy; it will be examined, and thus determined he is not all-powerful. His dominance within the narrative will be questioned. The role of the woman will be elevated. The patriarchal dominance displaced. So, yeah, that’s why Batman can’t give oral—not because it will hurt the toy sales.

I mean, it might. But because it will hurt Batman as a hypermasculine ideal

#batman #dc #masculinity #male power fantasy #batcatpussygate #mine

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

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Not That Kind of Movie

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Summary: “They plan a romantic getaway but everything goes sideways and they end up in a dive motel eating cheap pizza but the water is hot and the mattress isn't the worst and...” (prompt courtesy of @fangirlxwritesx67)

Word Count: 2590

Warnings: Steve feels sorry for himself, Bucky gets sassy, and innuendo abounds, but there’s nothing particularly explicit happening. Zero adherence to any sort of canon timeline. It’s fluffy as hell.

A/N: Blame @katwillrise, who encouraged this nonsense and has been keeping me company in the Stucky hole. Please help us. We cannot get out. Major thanks to @itmighthavebeenintentional, who a) reassured me that this was worth posting and b) came up with the whole pizza thing and let me write it because she is amazing.

“I think—” Bucky starts, but he (wisely) stops when Steve lets out a wordless rage-grunt.

“I got it,” Steve snaps, and seriously considers kicking the motel door in.

He gets five more beeping red lights before Bucky points out that he’s trying to open the wrong door.

Bucky opens the right door on the first try and ushers him through. He hasn’t said “I told you so,” but he is radiating it from every smug pore. He’s been pointedly not saying “I told you so” all damn day, about every damn thing.

“Maybe Mercury’s in retrograde,” Steve mumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sets his bag down on the desk. Then he realizes what he just said and feels himself flush brick-red.

Steve knows, without turning around, that Bucky is smirking. He can picture it way too clearly. Most people have trouble reading Bucky’s brand of deadpan, these days, but he has an array of specific smirks, and they’re all subtly different if you know what you’re looking for. This one, barely-quirked lips and sparkly laughing eyes, translates to you’re an idiot but you’re my idiot. It’s just a hair meaner than the you’re an idiot but I love you variant and its close cousin, I fucking love you, you idiot. Steve knows it well.

This particular smirk has had the same effect on Steve for about a century now: he gets a brief, overwhelming urge to punch Bucky, followed by an equally overwhelming urge to kiss him senseless.

It’s irritating. And after a day’s worth of wildly unfortunate events that could, technically, be described as “Steve’s fault,” he is already irritated enough. He pointedly keeps his back turned and tries some breathing exercises.

“That’s really what you’re going with?” Bucky says, dry and amused. “We’re blaming this on planets?”

Steve sighs. “Clint taught me about astrology last time he got drunk.”

“You do know he’s fucking with you, right?”

“Of course I do,” Steve says, hoping he sounds disdainful. “I’m going to shower off the dried alien goop now.” He makes a dignified retreat to the shower while Bucky laughs.

They were supposed to be at a luxury mountain cabin with a hot tub. Instead, the first day of their anniversary trip has been one long series of unmitigated catastrophes, because somehow, Steve’s tactical skills — which have defeated actual evil Nazi masterminds — do not extend to dates. Or romance in general, really.

Steve has realized, in the last year, that while he is a goddamn national hero and literal superhuman, he is a disaster of a boyfriend. And yeah, sure, “boyfriend” doesn’t seem like the right word, exactly, for everything they are, but they’ve officially been together for a year now, and Steve got it into his head to make an effort.

So, yeah. Catastrophes. And now he’s trying to scrub off dried alien goop in a sputtering coffin-sized shower that was clearly not built with super soldier proportions in mind.

The hot water lasts just long enough for Steve to deem himself clean enough, for certain values of enough, but it doesn’t do much for his mood, which is the sort of sulk that really requires a hot tub. He just wanted to plan something nice, for once. Romantic. He’s always so busy running around being Captain goddamn America that romance usually takes a backseat — admittedly, aliens take the front seat in this metaphor, which is fair, but the point stands.

Bucky is sprawled out on the plasticky motel duvet. He changed into flannel pajama pants and a worn henley, and he is temporarily retired from combat and other violent activities his therapist has deemed unwise, so he isn’t covered in alien goop; in fact, he looks comfortable and somehow totally content. After this kind of day, it doesn’t seem fair that someone should be that kind of attractive.

Bucky stops channel-surfing to give Steve and his very small towel a flirtatious once-over.

“Can you just get it over with?” Steve sighs, looking up at the ugly water-stained ceiling in supplication.

“Hell no. I want to hear you say it.”

“You were right. About taking the time to shower, and bringing our phones, and checking the radiator a week ago, and… all of it. Happy now? Stop laughing at me, I swear to god, I will — oof.”

Steve doesn’t bother to resist, because the way his luck is going, that’d end in broken bones. He winds up on his back, towel-less, with Bucky on top of him, but his weight and his heat and his smile are doing a lot for Steve’s mood.

Then Bucky grins and says, “Told you so, punk.”

Steve scoffs and scowls and rolls them over — more out of principle than any actual desire to fight back — and Bucky lets himself be pinned. The smirk is back, and this time Steve gives in to the urge to kiss him senseless.

By the time he pulls away, Bucky’s mouth is red and his eyes are heavy-lidded, and he’s giving Steve a slow blink and a lazy curl of a smile. It’s just as effective now as it used to be on every girl in Brooklyn.

“You should put on pants,” he says, but the husky tone of his voice is saying the exact opposite, and it takes a second for the words to register.

“Huh?”

“Pizza should be here in five minutes. We’re not in that kinda movie.”

That surprises an actual huff of a laugh from Steve. He slides away and digs around for his sweatpants while Bucky gives a low whistle and ogles shamelessly.

By the time he settles back on the bed, he’s feeling a little sheepish and he’s ready to apologize. Bucky’s got one eyebrow raised ever so slightly, just waiting — the laugh helped, and he knew it would, and now he knows exactly what’s coming. Damn him.

“Sorry,” Steve sighs. “About everything. This is not what I had in mind.”

“Not sure what you mean,” Bucky says glibly. “I can think of worse ways to spend a Friday night.” He wriggles closer, pressing their hips together and giving Steve’s ass a friendly grope.

“Seriously. I’m sorry, this was —”

“When’d you turn into such a princess, huh?” Bucky asks, soft and fond even if the words are teasing.

“Excuse you? I’m not the one with an entire duffel’s worth of hair products.”

“What I mean—” He punctuates the word with a kiss that’s all teeth and promise. “—is that I’ve seen you grin and bear it through some serious shit, Rogers. You didn’t even get this bitchy when we were trekking around the goddamn Western Front. So what’s with the whining?”

Steve doesn’t know where to start. For a second he just looks.

Bucky’s made up of dramatic angles and distinctive shadows, jawline and cheekbones set in a way that Steve’s been trying to capture on paper for as long as he can remember, but up close like this, the sharp delicate lines seem blurred and smoothed-over; all Steve can see is the softness of his mouth and the gentle swoop of his eyelashes. Everything else falls out of focus.

Christ, he’s gone for this jerk.

And that’s the problem, really, because of all the things in his extraordinarily strange life, Bucky has always been the most extraordinary, a living breathing wise-cracking miracle even before they both became world-famous scientific anomalies. He deserves fireworks and epic poems and goddamn parades, and instead — well. This is the sort of motel where you don’t look too closely at the stains on the carpet.

Steve’s spent the better part of a century pining for the guy. You’d think he could manage one romantic weekend getaway.

“Stop that,” Bucky interrupts, before he can spiral any further. “Jesus, stop with the big tragic eyes already. Just shut up and kiss me.”

Steve would protest, but there’s a tongue in his mouth and a hand in his hair, tugging sharp enough to make his hips twitch forward and his rational mind switch off completely. There’s kiss after syrupy-slow, brain-liquefying kiss, and for a moment Steve lets himself get lost in it.

Then they’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and he’s so startled he jerks back and rolls off the bed into a crouch, instincts kicking in before he remembers: pizza. Right.

Bucky is laughing — cackling, more like.

“Wallet’s on the desk,” he says, and stretches extravagantly, unbothered, while Steve fumbles for some money and goes to open the door.

“Your total is—” The guy stops, blinking rapidly up at Steve. “You’re…”

Steve remembers abruptly that he’s shirtless and half-hard, with some major bed head and kiss-swollen lips.

“Sorry, I’m not — this isn’t —” he blurts out. “Um.”

Too late. The guy is already glancing behind him; Steve looks back just in time to catch Bucky’s outrageous wink and sly grin from where he’s lounging on his side like a goddamn pinup.

The delivery guy looks up at Steve again, grinning, and says, “Nice. Get it, Cap.”

“I — what? No!” Steve squawks. “Not what it looks like!”

“Totally what it looks like,” Bucky calls cheerfully.

Steve shoves too much money at the guy. “Keep the change. Thank you!”

He manages to snatch the boxes and slam the door before this can get any more mortifying, and then he sags back against the doorframe and puts a hand over his eyes for a second.

“What happened to not that kind of movie?” he sighs, cheeks burning, before collecting himself and making a mental note to warn Pepper about another impending PR crisis.

They sit on the floor, side by side, leaning back against the mattress. Steve checks the top box and hands it to Bucky at the sight of pineapple.

“That’s yours. Heathen.”

Bucky shrugs, unrepentant, and shoves half a slice of his pineapple abomination into his mouth in one bite. Steve does the same with his perfectly respectable mushroom and sausage piece, and for a few minutes they both just shovel food into their mouths. Steve didn’t realize how hungry he was, but… yeah.

Maybe blood sugar has been a factor in his mood. Huh.

“How’sit?”

“It’s pizza. It’s hot and cheesy, it’s not like it could be bad.”

“Hot and cheesy, huh? Just like one of my other favorite things.”

Steve lets out a long suffering sigh, but it’s hard to be grouchy after demolishing half a pizza.

“You know that guy is gonna tell everyone he’s ever met, right?”

“They won’t believe him.” Bucky counters. “Hey, did you know there’s Captain America porn?”

Steve almost chokes. “Excuse me?”

“There’s a porn parody of everything these days. The guy’s not a bad lookalike, at least in the face area. The dick area—”

“Bucky.”

“I gave them that guy’s name when I paid for the room and ordered the food.”

Steve actually chokes this time. Then he laughs until his stomach hurts.

He can’t stop until he’s breathless and red-faced, wheezing like he still has asthma. He wipes away tears while Bucky sits there and looks quietly pleased with himself.

When the giggles subside he leans over and plants a greasy kiss on the corner of Bucky’s smile. Bucky chases his mouth and nips his lower lip, and for a minute they sit just like that, twisting at an awkward angle to exchange slow scattered kisses.

With hunger out of the way, Steve’s top priority is getting Bucky horizontal again, so he shoves the pizza boxes out of the way and tugs-lifts-tackles him onto the bed.

“Feeling better, I take it,” Bucky says, grinning. “Seriously, everything okay?”

“Sorry,” Steve says sheepishly. “I just — I don’t know. I wanted this weekend to be perfect.”

Bucky’s expression clears, suddenly. “God, you’re such a romantic.”

“I mean, it would’ve been romantic, if everything had gone according to plan.”

“You know I’ll say yes even if it’s not perfect, right?”

All Steve can do is sputter for a solid minute. “You — how did you — how did you figure it out?”

Bucky raises one snarky eyebrow, thumbs stroking Steve’s shoulderblades before he surges up for a quick kiss. Then his lips twitch as he tries to hold back a chuckle.

“You didn’t buy a ring, did you? ‘Cause I hate to break it to you, but… that might be problematic.” He pokes Steve in the side with one metal finger.

“No! I just — I wanted it to be special!”

Bucky rolls his eyes in a way that somehow conveys an entire lifetime of mingled exasperation and affection.

“Pal, I’m part robot and you’re Captain America. Doesn’t get much more special than that.”

“I had a whole speech!”

“Now there’s something you don’t see often: Captain America making a speech.”

“Wow.”

“No, I’m sure it was a good one. Lemme guess, the words ‘til the end of the line’ were involved. Am I right?”

“Wow.”

He’s laughing too hard for it to be considered a real kiss, but he can’t help it.

Steve’s about to pull away when Bucky wraps both arms around him and kisses back, and suddenly there’s nothing playful about it; it’s startlingly slow and deep and urgent, with a hitched inhale and an exhale that comes out shaky.

Steve can’t quite catch his breath either.

“You really thought you had to ask?” Bucky whispers. Neither of them pull away; their noses brush, and they’re breathing the same warm close air.

“Told you, I wanted it to be special. You deserve that.” He expects a sarcastic retort, but Bucky’s serious and silent. “Sometimes I worry… I’ll let you down. After all this time — I don’t want you to get bored. Don’t want you to think I take you for granted.”

“Honestly? The boring stuff is my favorite.”

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better, Buck.”

“After everything that’s happened —” His voice has gone rough, and he pauses to lick his lips and take a breath. “Boredom still feels like a luxury. Getting to muddle through the everyday shit together… I love it. Even when you’re being a goddamn diva.”

Steve lets out a wobbly chuckle. “Jerk.”

“We both shoulda died a few times over by now. You know? It all feels special. I’m never gonna get over that.” Bucky bites his lip, and his expression is wide-open and vulnerable, no trace of the usual laughter in his eyes. “So if you want a piece of paper making it official, that’s fine by me. But as far as I’m concerned… it was a done deal a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” Steve manages. “Yeah, okay.”

Then it’s bruising lips and feverish heat, a simmering need that’s so perfect and dizzying that for a few minutes, Steve forgets about the questionable duvet and the sticky wallpaper and absolutely everything else.

They could be anywhere: crappy motel room, Brooklyn tenement, mountain cabin, Army base — Steve’s never been able to focus on their surroundings or anything else for that matter, not when Bucky’s around. This kind of love’s not just blind, it’s blinding.

“You can go through the whole thing anyway, if it makes you feel better,” Bucky interrupts.

“Huh?”

“I know you need to deliver an inspiring speech at least once a week or you get all backed up.”

“I’m starting to think I should take it all back.”

“No, really. I’m sure it would’ve been very eloquent.”

“Shut up and get your clothes off already.”

“Is that an order, Captain?”

“Yes.”

“See? Who needs romance when — oh. Oh, hey, do that again.”

#stucky #stucky fic #mcu #mcu fic #bucky barnes fic #steve rogers fic

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carolofdanvers · 5 years ago

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𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - nomad steve rogers x sw! reader

steve rogers is not usually the guy to seek out a stranger for relief, but after going into hiding post-avengers-breakup in amsterdam, the sultry red glow emitting from the neon signs in the red light’s district seem more and more tempting each passing night.

( warnings: nsfw, rough, sex work, descriptive smut, slight dom x sub undertones, dark! nomad steve, angsty, oral sex (male recieving), etc. )

Word Count: approx. 4.9k

this is my first one shot, my apologies for making it so long! i got a little carried away. tbh i’m thinking about turning it into a series if people like it enough, i think theres room to explore things here but for now just enjoy! i’d love some feedback if you have any! happy reading!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

To say that Steve Rogers was exhausted would be an understatement. After the fight that broke out in Germany, where friends became enemies and enemies became friends, the blonde super soldier had lost track of time. Although the memories seared through his mind like a surgeons cautery pen as if they were yesterday, the image of Tony in a rage and taking hit after hit, Bucky going under cryo in Wakanda, it had been almost a year. It was hard to believe it; the burner phone weighed heavily in his pocket with no calls or text from his former friend and wealthy fellow avenger. But, in the time he had been on the run, Amsterdam had been the most recent place to call a temporary home. He had stayed in places not so pleasant, like the little motels all across Russia as he backpacked further west into Europe, never really staying in any place for long. He was overly cautious; the man had lost faith in most forms of authority, which rang with such a strong sense of irony considering he was at one point the epitome of a law abiding citizen. Poor pre-serum Steve wouldn't know what to think of the man he had become; bitter, closed off, easily agitated, irritable, and even a bit cruel. He hated the world that had suddenly hated him, the world he found himself wishing he had never woken up into. Steve had become so unbearable that he and sam had split ways for a while, promising to reconvene in London should it be necessary. But now, Steve was on his own, staring out the window of his hotel room that had the perfect view of the canals that swirled like ink, and the bridge that lead right into the ever so alluring Red Light District.

During the day, the Red Light District was rather inconspicuous, perhaps slightly less attractive than the rest of the city, if anything at all. The bricks aligned in a herringbone pattern practically guided you past window after window of beautiful women, quite literally anyone you imagined. The closer you get to the area, the louder the buzzing of neon gets. The bars are usually pretty empty during the day, a few stray women, presumably escorts, looking to pick up an alcoholic or two having a drink at noon. Steve often found himself in these bars, but only during the day to find a place away from the tourist infested hotel and his sad, tiny hotel room. He never got anything to drink besides water, since alcohol metabolized far too quickly in his body to have any affect on him anyways. It was times like these that he missed Thor’s Asgardian brews, the only alcohol he had ever tried that made him feel something, any kind of buzz. But alas, he stuck to water in the dimly lit, smokey bars with sunlight seeping in through the above-ground windows.

The women of the Red Light District never tempted him, at least during the day. Steve had never found the appeal in casual sex. Yes, he was a man with desires and wants and needs, but part of him was too unbothered to try anything. He had Sharon, at one point in time, early on in his fugitive life, but they had since parted ways for the same reason he and Sam parted ways. The man was far too distant to really feel anything, but there was something about this place at night that drew him in more than he wanted to admit. Was it the otherworldly red glow that caught his eye? Or rather the shadows of women dancing in the windows, that same sensual red caressing their skin, barely dressed and jewels adorning their skin and necklaces resting against collarbones and heels far too tall for day to day wear? Perhaps it was the EDM that pounded from the many clubs, or maybe there was something else he couldn’t explain, a primal nature in him that drove him to near madness when he lay in bed trying to sleep, the soft red glow haunting him through the thin curtains covering the sliding door to a balcony. Sometimes, Steve would sit out there, watching the wonderland from afar, scratching his beard as he contemplated venturing into the maw of the beast. He never gave in, knowing the risk of being caught was serving time for treason at best.

But this particular night, Steve was insatiable. His own hands couldn’t possibly satisfy the craving that couldn’t be satisfied, the itch that just couldn’t be scratched. He was usually relatively satisfied after a few minutes, his hand wrapped around the thick veiny shaft of his cock and leaning against the headboard of his bed as he swiftly sent himself over the edge. But tonight was something else entirely. He had gone at it three or four times, his bare and sculpted chest glistening with sweat and his lower half slick with his cum. It didn’t help that his neighbor in the suite next door must have brought home a girl, because between the pounding of the headboard against the wall and the fake moans the poor girl had to emit was obnoxious, Steve couldn’t possibly take it anymore. He put on a few layers, as it was starting to get a little chilly in the city, as well as a hat to hide his face behind, and ventured out into the belly of the beast. He wandered for a while, keeping his head low for a while, until he realized how the red lights drowned out most features. his hat cast a deep shadow over his face, his hands shoved in his pockets as he finally lift his head to look up at the scantily clad women in the windows, waving at passerby after passerby. A few spotted him and fear coursed through his veins, but they didn’t recognize him, only thought he was handsome enough to warrant their attention. but he wasn’t drawn to any of them, not like he was drawn to you.

You were something else entirely. Although you were tucked away towards the end of the rows of windows, your presence was enthralling. He moved closer to the window as if you were a siren and he was lured to you by your song. You hadn’t spotted him yet, dressed in what was more of a burlesque showgirl kind of costume, almost pinup style. The crystals upon your leather bra reflected the haunting neon lights into fragments of color, bouncing around and catching the eye, although your perky breasts were just another set of eye catchers. Steve felt his cock twitch beneath the denim of his jeans, cursing his quick recovery speed considering he had left his hotel almost immediately after his fourth orgasm of the night. The super soldier took off his hat and ran his hands through his long hair to disturb it, never once taking his eyes off of you. you had finally spotted him at this point, noticing the handsome figure now smirking at you as you made eye contact. His stunning blues still managed to shine underneath the red light and something about that carnal look behind them made you forget any other potential customer besides him. you moved coyly, turning around to play shy and peeking over your shoulder, but turning around exposed your plump bum and swaying your hips only accentuated such a feature. You checked again to see if he was still watching, which he was, though a smirk was ever so present beneath his thick beard. Your mouth began to water at the imaginary feeling of his beard between your legs, the coarse hair tickling your inner thighs. This is what sent you over the edge, lifting your hand and summoning him with a single finger, your long nails accentuating the movement. Steve hesitated for a moment, looking over both shoulders, before moving towards the door.

Steve had never solicited anyone before. He had never really had one night stands, let alone payed anyone for sex. He was that kind of guy who wanted chemistry and a relationship between him and his partner, as cheesy as that sounded. He may still be adjusting to the modern world but it didn’t matter when he woke up from being under ice, he would have always felt that way. But he sure as hell felt chemistry between you and him. He entered the room just as you were closing the curtains, standing in the doorway as he took in the layout of the very small room. Where you stood was the giant window that you lured customers through, the lights that once shone through the window were now blocked by thick curtains and that very same red light that haunted his every filthy thought flooded the room. It was tiny, a small bed a little larger than a twin was pressed against the wall, with a sink directly across. It was clean, plainly decorated, but clean. He assumed that every room looked like this. Steve finally got a closer look at you as you stood there staring at him, your painted lips curved into a teasing smile. He noticed that bit of mischief was prevalent in you; he could see it in your eyes, your expressive brows, your hands that wandered your own body to tease him, and god, was it working.

"You're new here." you said, moving in to place your hand's on his broad shoulders beneath his heavy canvas coat, letting them slide down to his chest and slowly unzip. Normally, you'd ask for your payment ahead of time, but this man seemed like he was going to be payment enough. "I've never seen you around, neither have the other girls. Otherwise there would have been plenty of talk. It's not often we get handsome strangers like you in all to ourselves."

Steve was mildly surprised to hear english, tensing up as he felt you unzip his coat, but he couldn't help but let you. Your accent didn't sound like the natives of Amsterdam, making him more and more curious about you. Every new thing he learned about you made him crave you even more, and though he was holding back, he wasn't sure he wanted to anymore.

"Your accent. It isn't Dutch." he was curt, his words getting to the point and it only made you wonder if he would be this harsh and unrefined with your body, something you had been craving from a beautiful man like him.

"It isn't." You pushed his coat off his shoulders to reveal a white t shirt that looked a few sizes too small considering his bulging muscles. The sleeves look like they'd burst any moment. "Would you like it to be?" You purred, arms wrapping around his neck and playing with his long hair, hair that hadn't seen a barber in far too long. "I can be a sweet little girl from London, or perhaps a feisty American woman, or a seductive French Woman fresh from Paris," You mimicked every accent with uncanny precision, leaving the blonde man unsettled and impressed. There was more to you than meets the eye, apparently. Steve was tense as he felt you get even closer, the heat from your bare body enough to make him feel that desire come back full force, blood rushing to his lower abdomen and feeling himself get warm as his large hands finally found their place at your waist, that mischievous smirk growing upon your red lips. "I can be anyone you want me to be." you tugged at his hair playfully.

"To be frank, I don't care. Just be you." he pulled you in roughly, body to body, face only inches from each other. A silent agreement was made between the two of you; this was really going to happen. Your lips collided into a heated kiss. Steve had never felt so sexually attracted to someone in his life without really knowing them. Perhaps that was the appeal, the idea that he had no idea who you were, only that you were willing to do almost anything and be anyone he asked for some euros. He pulled away from the kiss, the two of you now panting as you tugged at the hem of his shirt and helped him lift it up over his head, revealing one hell of a body. What was a man like him doing in Amsterdam alone? Was he single or was he filling the void of a lacking lover with prostitutes in the window brothels? You did not have time to dwell upon those thoughts any longer as his lips found your neck, his arms wrapped around you from behind as you let out little mewls of pleasure. His scratchy beard sent shivers down your spine, lips leaving little red splotches that would surely darken over time. His grip was strong, commanding, a little harsh, but you liked that.

"What can I call you?" you purred, pushing your hips back into his and finding that he had a large bulge that was only getting bigger by the moment. "How does that feel, Sir?" you tested, your hand reaching behind to touch his face while the other rest on top of one of his hands and guided it to your breast. "Do you like it, Master?" Still not a satisfactory reaction from the man you wished to seduce, although he continued to work at your neck and let out a soft groan as his large hand cupped at your breast still covered by the costume you wore. "If you want it, come and get it, Daddy." This was the name, you decided, noticing him freeze at the name before his grip got rougher and he was a little more reckless with you. Steve caught that mischievous look in your eyes again in the mirror and finally the man let go of all his inhibitions. He spun you around to face him before he kissed you again, sloppily and full of need as if you were his life force. His hands wandered your back, pulling you towards him and pressing your body against his chiseled one. the kiss was suffocating in the best way possible, one of his hands sliding up to your face, leaving a trail of goosebumps upon your skin. It settled at your neck, momentarily wrapping around it as if he threatened to tighten his grip, before pressing at the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. He grabbed fistfuls of your freshly done curls that reminded him of the show girls he toured with back in the forties. Everything about you screamed home to him, despite you being completely unaware of what home even was to him, despite him not even having a home anymore. You pulled away only to look him in those beautiful light eyes, the two of you basking in the deep red light that perfectly reflected the heavy heat of the room. Your hands swiftly moved to undo his belt and slide down his jeans that pooled down at his knees, leaving him in his briefs. The imprint of his bulge clearly showed how he yearned for you, his shaft wanting nothing more to escape its confine. you guided him to the little bed and had him lean against it while you wedged yourself between his legs. The way you looked up at him had him going wild, innocent eyes looking up at him through thick lashes as you palmed his cock through the thin fabric. You loved the way he looked down at you, the way his knuckles had turned white from gripping the edge of the bed too rough. He looked down at you with an intensity you rarely saw in a man as you hooked your thumbs into the elastic waistband and tugged down, his member springing out and standing at attention as his boxers joined his other clothing on the floor. Steve watched in awe as you left open mouth kisses on the veiny shaft, groaning upon the feeling of your soft lips where he craved you the most. You were shocked at how large he was, although you shouldn’t have been just by looking at him. You lifted the mattress to grab a condom wrapper, tearing it open and rolling it over his hard member. You, like all the other sex workers in the Red Light District, refused to not use a condom. It was common knowledge and Steve silently agreed to it. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable. His hands found their place in your hair again as your tongue dragged from the base to tip, flicking over the slit that leaked clear precum into the latex. Steve’s body reacted more than he would have liked, involuntarily tensing. A low growl rumbled in his chest as you finally began to take him into your mouth, little by little as your hands with manicured nails wrapped around the shaft. He watched you as you began to bob your head, groans of pleasure escaping him. You looked so beautiful to him, unearthly and sinful with drool dribbling down your chin and watery eyes from taking his thick length into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. He hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in too long, unaware of how much he had been craving physical intimacy. Watching you move was enough to make him explode right then and there, but he held it back, the coil in his lower abdomen tightening up as he threatened to orgasm.

"Yeah, that's right, doll, take it." he moaned, really getting into things now. You looked up to see his eyes shut and head tossed back. His neck was tense and jaw clenched. He was already close to an orgasm, which was unsurprising to a woman in your field, however you didn't want the fun to end so soon. Your hands moved away from his cock and you braced yourself on either of his thighs as you began to deepthroat him, taking all seven inches down. Suppressing your gag reflex was easy enough, although your jaw ached from his girth. He let out a guttural moan, one he couldn't hold back like the others as your lips closed around him and bottomed out down your throat. He pulled on your hair, the pleasure too overwhelming, but you refused to let him give in. You pulled away with a gasp, strings of saliva connected from his cock to your lips as you breathed heavily and your hands moved at the pace your head had bobbed.

"Does Daddy like it? Does it make him wanna bust? Come on, Daddy-" Steve had enough of the taunting. He lift your chin up so he could look at you, a proper mess with smeared lip stick and drool, wiping it away with his thumb.

"You drive me insane." was all he said before he scooped you up and placed you on the bed. He kicked off his clothes that pooled around his ankles and swiftly undid your own bra, your nipples hardening to the cool air as Steve hovered over you. Once again, his lips found their place at your neck, admiring his marks that had now deepened and went over them again, but unsuspecting you had been so consumed with the feeling of his lips on your neck and trailing down that you hadn't noticed his hand slip away from your waist and slipped beneath the fabric of your lacy promiscuous bottoms. Your eyes, which had previously been shut as you enjoyed his lips on your neck, flew open as you gasped, back arching up towards his hovering body upon feeling his fingers slide between your slick folds. Steve wanted nothing more than to slide into you right then and there upon hearing that beautiful sigh escape you. His cock twitched in need as his lips trailed further down, nibbling on your collarbones and leaving breathy, open mouth kisses until taking the delicate rosebud of your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently while a finger skillfully slid inside you. Your moans were symphonic, like beautiful song, although he knew they weren't faked like the neighbor's girl, her sing-songy moans that annoyed him to no end. He was genuinely pleasing her, and he loved it. You grew wetter by the second, the feeling of his finger, and then fingers inside of you, his lips leaving marks all over your breasts, you weren't sure how much longer you could last. And there was another moment of silent communication, as Steve pulled away, sliding his middle and ring finger out of her and placing them to her lips. "Be a good girl and clean them up." he demanded, groaning as you parted your lips and sucked his fingers clean, tongue swirling around them sensually. His cock twitched at the feeling before pouncing, pinning you down and kissing you feverishly and you reciprocating once more. His hands slid down your body to remove what little clothing was still on you, leaving the two of you bare. Your taste on your tongue was intoxicating, and if he had more time and more patience he would have savored it and perhaps gone down on you, but he was impatient and needed you. Steve's eyes met yours as he lined himself up with you and slid in, the two of you erupting into moans neither of you could hold back. It had been almost a year since the last time Steve had had sex, but you didn't have that excuse. Your moans shocked you. Steve shocked you. You had sex all into the night, every single night, several men leaving this very room and yet none of them felt the way Steve did inside of you. You were unsure of whether or not it was because of how attracted to each other you both were or if he was simply that large (or perhaps it was both), but as he bottomed out inside of you, your nails dug into his broad shoulders and he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You shut your eyes tight, seeing stars from the sheer pleasure of it all, but slowly it began to fade, to which Steve took as a sign to begin to move. He pinned your arms over your head as he pulled almost all the way out, smirking as he slammed back into you. It felt intense as he reached spots few other men had over reached, proving himself superior with every roll of his hips. Steve found satisfaction in the way your face morphed, eyes squeezing shut and nose scrunching before lips parted and formed a perfect "o" shape, letting out another moan that was like music to his ears. It spurred him on, encouraging him to keep going. "You like that, baby?" he asked, although you were so consumed by the pleasure that only incoherent mumbles could escape your lips. Steve wasn't satisfied by this. "Use your words, dollface or else Daddy won't let you cum. Tell me how much you love how I fuck you." He demanded, really getting into it as he picked up the pace, grunting softly as your tight walls gripped him like no other. You were a desperate mess at this point, eyes wild and filled with arousal and fear as the sounds of sex filled the air, skin to skin contact and the faint thumping of EDM from a nearby club. The unmistakable smell of it consumed your mind, unable to form a single proper thought and fully enveloped in this electrifying sense of primal desire. Your body felt hot, a thin sheen of sweat glistening upon your skin like diamonds, your baby hair starting to stick to your forehead from the pleasure of it all. You could feel yourself reaching your climax but you knew he'd deny you of that thing you chased if you didn't talk, if you didn't beg for it. "God, I love how you fuck me, Daddy. You're so big inside of me, you fill me up so good-" You were interrupted by a moan that escaped you involuntarily as he purposely rolled his hips deep into you. You were dangerously close and Steve could feel it too, the way you clenched around him, the way your body rolled like the tides beneath him. He needed to orgasm, but he refused until he heard you beg. "Beg for me, baby girl." He demanded, now thrusting at an ungodly speed. You weren't sure how any human could move like this, but you had no idea who he was, really. You had no idea that he wasn't some average human, you could only assume he was just some guy with extraordinary skills. Steve let go of your hands to get better leverage over you, and your hands flew to his back. "Please Daddy, let me cum," you begged, nails digging into his skin and leaving claw marks upon his flesh to serve as a reminder later when he showered that this was not a dream. "I love how good you fuck me, no other man can possibly compare to you. I love your big cock inside of me, it makes me feel so good. Please daddy, I'm begging you, let your baby girl cum-" You were interrupted by his hand reaching down to find your clit and begin circling it with his fingers, nearly sending you over the edge. But it wasn't his skillful fingers or his thrusting that got you to your peak, but his words, his command that brought you to your orgasm. "Cum for me, doll." Four simple words made you cum, an explosive orgasm that reminded you of the birth of a star. Pleasure ripped through you like white hot lightning and rippled out to your fingers and toes and left you feeling like you were made of stardust and nothing more. You hadn't even realized how loud you were moaning because you were so consumed with the immense pleasure he brought you. Your toes curled and eyes shut tight, head tossed back, shaking violently as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in and deeper inside of you. Steve was close, himself, but you pulling him in deeper and deeper with your strong legs around his waist sent him over the edge. He wanted to admire the beauty that was you as you orgasmed, but he could hardly focused as you had tightened around him and an orgasm was imminent. He thrust into you once, twice, and three more times before he came as well, spilling into the condom wrapped around his shaft. He let out a guttural moan in your ear, his own eyes shut tight. The two of you slowly fell from your highs together, panting heavily. Steve's warm breath tickled your neck as he peppered kisses upon your skin again, softening inside of you. It took a moment for you to recover, as it did for Steve, but he seemed eager to leave. You were a bit disappointed as he got up so soon and threw away the used condom, sighing as he was finally satisfied. for now. "How much do I owe you?" he asked as he started to get dressed again, the jingling of his belt filling the heavy silence in the room. You looked at him, languidly propped up on the bed, staring at him like he was a god. "Nothing." you said after a moment of silence. he paused and looked at you, pushing back his long hair and suppressing a smile. "I've never had sex like that before, you must've been angry for a very long time." You teased, grabbing your robe and wrapping yourself up. You grabbed your cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke out between your smudged lips. He scoffed and shook his head, putting his t shirt back on. "Yeah. I guess you could say that." His voice was low, gravelly and quiet, as if that were a loaded statement. If only he could tell you of his troubles, the tales of glory and triumphs...and losses. He had walked in with slumped shoulders and his guard up, but now you noticed his posture had straightened and he seemed a little lighter on his feet. That alone was enough payment. It amused you. You stared at the wallpaper for a moment as he slipped on his hat and began to push the door open. "Can I be expecting you again?" you asked, trying not to let the hopefulness seep into your words. He looked down at his shoes before looking up at you, your curls all distressed, smeared lipstick, blowing smoke out into the air as you leaned against the bed they had fucked on only moments ago. You were otherworldly, and though sometimes it was hard for you to see yourself as even human, he thought the world of you. Brave enough to let strange men fuck you, enter the most vulnerable state a human can be. He admired that about you. "I don't know," was all he could say. You looked at him and nodded, taking a drag from your cigarette and sighing, smoke exiting your body through your nose. Looking down at your bare feet, you pursed your lips. "Well, you know where to find me." You told him. He took one last look at you before he nodded respectfully, leaving without another word. And with that, he disappeared like a ghost.

#steve rogers x reader #marvel #mcu fanfiction #mcu #steve rogers #smut #steve rogers smut #self insert #steve rogers x self insert #marvel smut #marvel imagine #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x fem #nomad steve #nomad steve rogers #nomad steve x reader

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the-uncanny-jake · 4 years ago

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Okay, so today's lunch agenda starts with reading Dazzler #2. Honestly, I'm glad my Grandmother wasn't subscribing to the series at this point because it is pretty bland. That's saying something, because I LOVE this character.

The story picks up with Alison preparing for the big gig she scored at Club Uno. She's more than just a little nervous.

These two panels are easily the cringeworthy thing I've read in a while. "Daddy's approval"? This just isn't the Alison I enjoyed reading as a kid.

Of course, all her superhero buddies in the Avengers, X-Men and Fantastic Four have bought tickets to her show. Good thing too, because Amora the Enchantress shows up to dole out some classic yet still petty aforetomentioned doomy revenge. Luckily for Dazzler, there are about a dozen heroes who band together to defend their friend. The writing here gets a but repetitive. Lots of heroes shouting out loud stuff like Hey, I'm gonna do the thing while the other heroes encourage them with "Go to it!".

In the end, the Enchantress escapes and the heroes fly our heroic singer to an audition at a record label where we meet one Harry Osgood. Gotta tell ya, I've never been a fan of Osgood. Anyway, he's too busy but our heroes persuade him to let her sing!

It works. She sings, he listens, a lawyer is called in to draft a recording contract, THE END.

Again nothing special about this issue, until you get to the last page and you get THIS awesome bonus pinup!

Srsly, I'm not knocking it. It's one of the most classic Dazzler images ever.

I'll read #3 tonight or tomorrow. It's got Doctor Doom in it, but it's early 80s Doom so that in and of itself isn't very promising.

#comics are fun #comics are for everyone #make mine marvel #comics are art #marvel comics #comics are literature #dazzler #alison blaire

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masterofallfreaks · 4 years ago

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Runaway!Cheryl Choni

Cheryl and Jason Blossom went missing on July 4th before their sophomore year of high school. Their upturned boat was found crashed against the sharp rocks at the side of Sweetwater River by Dilton Doiley. Further examination found blood and hair from both twins on the side of the boat, causing the police to conclude they hit their heads when the boat capsized. It was assumed that they had both drowned as a result of the head wounds, though the bodies were not found when the river was swept.

Jason Blossom’s body was found a few days later on the side of the river, large wound on the side of his head corroborating the assumed series of events, a full autopsy was never done due to Clifford and Penelope saying they just wished to bury the one child that had been found so they could have some peace.

Cheryl Blossom’s body was never found, everyone just figured she traveled further downstream since she was lighter than her football playing brother. The Blossom family never demanded another search to try to find their daughter. Cheryl’s picture was beside Jason’s at the funeral, but only he was mourned by their parents.

Polly Cooper ran away two days after the disappearance of the Blossom twins, but no one was told about that. Alice claimed Polly got into an exclusive writing program in England, she didn’t answer any follow up questions.

Cheryl knew her father was a bad man for her entire life. She could see it in his eyes, the evil swirling inside him.

It wasn’t until she and Jason happened upon his hidden books that she knew the truth though.

Polly had found out she was pregnant, so Cheryl had promised her brother help. They waited until their parents went out for the night, then went to the west wing of the house to look for a stash of cash. They were sure their parents had it somewhere, it would help Jason and Polly start a life together.

They didn’t end up finding any money, but they did find some hidden books. It wasn’t hard to figure out that they were notes and schedules for their fathers drug business. With only a little more sleuthing, Jason had enough to be confident that he and his sister were not safe. She tried to convince him to not worry about her, to just leave town with Polly, but Jason refused. He wasn’t going to leave his sister in danger.

So they got to work devising a plan to get them both away from their parents and Polly away from hers.

Cheryl planned nearly everything, and Jason got everything in motion.

Their plan was really a simple one, they would casually move clothes and personal items out of the house over the course of a month, they’d let everyone know they were planning a boat trip along Sweetwater River on the Fourth of July before any festivities could start, they’d use a bat to cause the dents to the boat for their heads, plant hair and blood on it, crash the boat on the side of the river where it would be easily seen. From there they’d split up, Cheryl going to where Polly was imprisoned and help break her out while Jason went to deliver the drugs Cheryl had set up through FP Jones. They’d meet back at the packed car and drive as far as they could get.

Nearly everything went to plan, after they crashed the boat Cheryl went to the facility and got Polly out. When they got back to the car, however, the drugs were still there but Jason was not.

Cheryl just assumed he had gotten caught up in some last minute surprise for his reunion with Polly, so she and Polly made the drop with the drugs. Luckily Cheryl had thought of a backup plan, so she left a three of hearts playing card pinned to a tree where the car had been. She and Polly went to the Hearts Hotel and got room three to wait for him to meet them.

They waited a few days, and still nothing. It was only when they saw on the news that his body had been found in the river did Cheryl know what had really delayed her brother.

Clifford Blossom had caught his son in the forest and took him to the basement of the Whyte Wyrm. It was a short discussion, really, and thankfully his children had already given the perfect way to get him out of getting caught. So he bashed his son’s head in with a bat, and left him to drown in a bucket of water.

He paid FP to take care of the body, telling him to just dump it back in the river.

As soon as Cheryl saw that on the news, she knew they had to leave. Polly was too distraught and didn’t want to go, but Cheryl informed her that it wasn’t safe in Riverdale, especially not with Polly pregnant. Clifford was smart enough to know his daughter would stay close until her brother returned, so Cheryl was sure they didn’t have long until they would be found.

They got into the car and drive as far as possible. Polly made a good point about it being smart of them to change their appearance; Cheryl’s red hair was like a neon sign and if she was seen with the blonde Polly, it would be easy for Clifford to know them from a glance. They both became brunettes, Polly by dyeing her hair and Cheryl with a wig. Cheryl’s hair had been part of her identity her entire life, and she couldn’t give it up so easily. Their makeup and personal style changed as well, both going more dramatic and outlandish, verging on punk and goth, since they knew no one would expect that of the Polly and Cheryl that were. Cheryl even ended up getting a couple tattoos; she got a pinup girl in a cheerleading uniform on her right upper arm in honor of the Vixens she had left in Riverdale, and eventually got a small headstone with “Jay Jay” written in it on her hip.

They adapted well to their uncertainty; the money from the drug run was a cushion but neither relied on it. Cheryl has a silver tongue and was clever, whatever she couldn’t talk her way into getting, she was able to obtain through other means. Cheryl was surprised at how good she got at slight of hand.

They settled in a small town, telling everyone they were cousins, Marjorie and Elizabeth Kingston, trying to start a life after the tragic death of Elizabeth’s, or Lizzie as she was soon nicknamed, boyfriend. They used their drug money along with some they had collected on their travels to buy a small townhouse. Polly had less options for a job since her pregnancy limited her abilities, but she was given a job at the local bookstore and she actually thrived in it. Cheryl got hired to be a cheerleading coach for the highschool, quickly skyrocketing their abilities and interest in the team.

She started writing as a mode to cope with everything that had happened to her and the loss of her brother. She ended up writing a novel, all about the truth of what had happened to them. The names and setting were changed as well as some more stuff added eventually so it wasn’t a glaringly obvious telling. She knew the story of her death along with her brothers was national news so any similarity could be tied to a writer just getting inspiration from the news, plus she had seen a few short stories similar to it already.

Cheryl debated what to do with the novel after it was finished, part of her wanted to get it published, but she also knew it was a risk. Even though nearly everyone would think it’s just a retelling of something from the news, there was still a risk of Clifford figuring it out and using it to find her. She and Polly had long talks together about it, they had become the best of friends through all of this. The trauma and fear bonded them together, and even after it had calmed some, they were best friends. It truly shocked the both of them, but it made them happy.

With Polly’s blessing and support, Cheryl sent it to a publisher. She wrote under the name Cherry Bombshell, most just assumed it was a tribute to The Runaways and didn’t look further. It was published within a year and became a bestseller. She kept writing after that, finding it to be great therapy for her actually, and people seemed to want to read it.

Polly and Cheryl had a good life together. They were there for each other and only grew closer after the birth of Polly’s children. They had poured over baby name books and decided on two names together; Jason Junior and Alyssa, to pay tribute to their shared loss as well as Polly’s mother since her sister was honoured by the name she had undertaken. They raised the children together and were actually happy, though they both knew there was something missing.

For four years they lived a good life, but the missing something grew more and more until finally Polly told Cheryl she was going to go back to Riverdale to see her sister.

They had their first big argument over that since Cheryl knew it was unsafe but Polly didn’t care or think it was as dangerous as her red haired companion. They finally came to an agreement that Polly would stay home with the kids and Cheryl would go back to Riverdale to get Betty and bring her to Polly.

First she needed to know where to find Betty, but that was easy. All she had to do was make a profile with some suggestive pictures easily found on the internet, find Dilton Doiley online, pretend to be interested in guns, and then use her charm to get him to tell her everything that had happened in Riverdale over the past four years. It seemed Betty had gotten with Jughead and became the leader of the Southside Serpents along with her boyfriend. The redhead was actually impressed by that. She knew where the Serpents hung out, so she knew where to go.

Cheryl packed a duffle bag of clothes since she didn’t think it would take too long, and headed back to Riverdale.

Cheryl had gotten a hotel room on Southside before going to the Whyte Wyrm. She had on her black wig that would help to hide her face some if needed since it would be dangerous for FP to see her if he recognized her, the heavy, smudgy black eye makeup that surrounded her eyes making the green contacts pop more, fake freckles across her nose and cheeks, black lipstick with concealer around the edges of her lips to make them appear smaller, as well as a black leather jacket over a grey tank top over a black mesh shirt along with grey shorts over two pairs of black fishnet leggings and black boots. She had come to find out that having layers on was a good idea, it made it so much easier to change her appearance quickly. She had wanted to add red to her outfit, but knew it was dangerous, wearing red in Riverdale was a good way to get noticed, if not immediately be pinpointed as a Blossom.

She tried to look around for Betty but she didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself, so she went to the bar. She leaned over it while waiting for the bartender to finish up what she was doing. She checked out the pink haired woman and smiled some at what she saw. Cheryl had gotten much more comfortable with her sexuality over the years, Polly had assured her she loved Cheryl no matter what and that her happiness was all that mattered.

When the woman finally turned to Cheryl she smiled flirtatiously.

“Rum and cherry juice, please.” She told the bartender. “Also, I’m looking for my cousin Betty Cooper, she here?”

If you’re interested, please e-mail me at [email protected] =)

#Choni #Choni RP #RP #Roleplay

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bxrk-xll-dxy · 5 years ago

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A small collection of HCs regarding their time in war (@reservoir-loli - your tag!):

Shared:

They are almost always ready for a fight. They will usually size someone up when they meet them; there's no real intention to fight, it's more an automatic 'them or me' kind of process.

Nightmares are a very real problem for them both. They've learned to deal with it quite well, but it's definitely something they've shared a drink over. How else they deal with it is where they differ.

BOTH GOT A DOG TO HELP DEAL WITH THE TRAUMA.

As far as aiming goes, they're both pretty damn near crack shots with the standard issue pistols and rifles.

Both miss active combat. DEFINITELY reminisce sometimes.

There's a picture that Sam has and, sure enough, Cliff is also there. They didn't know until much, much later when Cliff and Rick visited her home. It was definitely a 'holy fucking shit' moment.

Guns and knives definitely don't pack the punch they used to. If you draw one on these two, then you're going to be met with a 'lmao okay buddy' kinda look. Hence Cliff's nonchalance at the end of the film (minus the drugs, of course).

They also have tinnitus.

[[MORE]]

Sam:

Met the Basterds during her service after they saved her life. They escorted her to the border, and she was redeployed in Germany.

She was a combat medic at the rank of Sergeant.

Earned quite a few medals, including the Combat Medical Badge and the Distinguished Service Medal.

Had to stitch herself up after getting stabbed and having nobody around that could do it. She has a somewhat jagged scar on the side of her stomach from this. It's a very, very touchy area and subject.

Wholly regrets not staying with the Basterds and fighting. She thinks that it should've been her who died, not Donny.

SHE HAS SURVIVOR'S GUILT.

She became somewhat of a poster girl for the army sometime after the war ended; she has a pinup series from the latest '40s, early '50s. It's still incredibly popular.

She promised her SO that she would continue working out after the war. After he died in her arms, she honoured that promise. Hence her daily workout routine.

Has a pretty cynical view of herself for what she had to do survive, but hides it remarkably well. She had to do a lot of unsavoury things just to make it to the border.

Cliff:

I'll start this off with an important thing: Cliff is salty that he never got to be a part of the Basterds.

Had the rank of Technical Sergeant, and was close to becoming a 1st Sergeant until the war ended.

Earned quite a few medals, including the Distinguished Service Cross and the Silver Star.

He's a war hero due to many things; his valiant efforts to preserve allied lives, selflessness, and effectiveness in eliminating the enemy. He is credited with saving quite a few Lieutenants and other of his SOs, as well as the lives of civilians. There's a bit more, but that's the important stuff.

To some degree, Cliff has survivor's guilt also. Though, to be honest, he's more on the mindset that it was him or them. He just so happened to come out on top. End of.

His tinnitus has somewhat eased over the years. It's still there, is occasionally annoying, but not near as bad as when he was discharged.

He has a revolver in his home because it's one of the only ways he can really get to sleep. Without a gun nearby, or another person (Brandy doesn't really count), his fight or flight kicks in.

The war made him relaxed and laid back because, well, he's seen the worst in people. Not much anyone can do now that can change him.

HIS FULL NAME IS CLIFTON. IN THE WAR, HE WENT BY CLIFF AND IT STUCK. HE HASN'T GONE BACK SINCE.

#Headcanon - tbt #🌐this won't stop me.🌐 cliff #🎶they don't want me!🎶 samantha #|| this is longer than I thought huh #|| AS ALWAYS: THIS IS FOR MY CLIFF ONLY #|| unless you want to fuckin use these too for our threads but #|| otherwise ignore em

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kenkamishiro · 6 years ago

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zakki:re translations Part 1 (pg. 10-29, Vol. 1-2 illustrations)

Hello and welcome to the zakki:re translations post! It took a bit of time to think about how I’d have to structure these translations, but I’ve figured it out for the most part.

What this series of posts will be is a text translation of Ishida’s comments accompanied by the art he’s referring to (the actual art itself that’s been available online, not a picture taken from zakki:re. It’ll make more sense once you start going through the post, I promise). It will also include some commentary from me for some additional context, which will be marked as “T/N” for “translator notes”.

What this will NOT include are photographs of the book. If I take pictures of the book, they will be contained in a different post since I don’t want the translations posts to be more cluttered than they already are. I also won’t include any illustrations that don’t have commentary attached to them unless they’re somehow relevant to it.

They will be posted every 1-2 days depending on my schedule, and have roughly 10 pieces of commentary each which I found was a good length.

And lastly, some terminology before I begin. TG = Tokyo Ghoul (overall, like the fandom tag), OG = the first Tokyo Ghoul series, :re = Tokyo Ghoul:re.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!

[T/N: This illustration was a magazine cover that included the blurb, "Justice has now been commenced." Presented this way since this is how it appears in zakki:re.]

zakki:re has now begun. Just like zakki, the comments on the paintings and such will be referred to as accordingly. I hope you enjoy.

This is the first cover on which :re began.

It gives off a certain vibe, hence the "Justice, commence!" blurb. At least that's probably what my editor thought.

I thought at the time that I was seriously going to fail to hand in my manuscript in time. It almost became, “Justice, commence (starting next week)!”

Weekly Young Jump 2014, Issue no. 46, Cover illustration

Volumes 1-4 of :re were prefaced with colour pages. Hinami was a member of Aogiri Tree, and Kanae was distressed over Tsukiyama.

Shirazu’s character looks kinda dangerous here for some reason, doesn’t he?

Weekly Young Jump 2014, Issue no. 46, Opening colour page

An image of a sky, as if it’s connected to the sky from the last chapter of OG. A certain three people from the final chapter are also standing here.

Weekly Young Jump 2014, Issue no. 46, Opening colour page

The cover illustration for volume 1 of :re. I used up all my energy drawing Haise. But he turned out quite well, don’t you think? He’s holding a Kitahara Hakushuu book in his hand.

I thought I should draw the story from the CCG perspective, so I introduced the character known as Sasaki Haise, an investigator who is a half-ghoul.

Before :re began I also created the Qs characters all at once for the shock factor. I took a break in between OG and :re, but it was only 3 weeks if I recall. I remember at the time I was working on the setting and drawing, so I ended up busier than usual during that writing period.

When OG ended, one of the staff asked, “Is it really over?” in confusion, and I answered, “Yeah, it’s really over.” It wasn’t really a lie since it was OG that had ended.

2014, Volume 1, Cover illustration

[T/N: The quality of this illustration isn’t good since I took it from the table of contents in Volume 1. But the neat thing is in zakki:re, the quality is so good that you can clearly read the words in the book that Haise is reading. Right now he’s reading Hakushuu’s poem “Blue Dragonfly.”]

Ui-kun has risen the ranks. Looks like he’s gone through a lot.

2014, Volume 1, Frontispiece

The exterior of the pinup, I think. From the series of mysterious outfits. Seems it’s based off a military uniform?

Weekly Young Jump 2015, Joint issue no. 6~7, Special long pinup

This is an illustration I drew using CLIP STUDIO. I’ve always used Sai for drawing, but when I was drawing the ending cards for the 2nd season of the OG anime (the ones that moved along with amazarashi’s “Seasons Die One After Another”), I decided to try drawing using CLIP STUDIO on a whim, and I kept using it for a while. Later I also drew the Trump card illustrations using CLIP STUDIO. I don’t use it anymore but looking back, the end product has a really distinct look to it, which makes me wonder if I should try using this program again...

Weekly Young Jump 2015, Issue no. 12, Cover illustration

[T/N: Couldn’t find the raw version of this illustration. This page was scanned by Imperial Scans (RIP).]

At the time it seems I pressed my editor, “What’s ‘On Christmas Eve the Qs bell is ringing’ supposed to mean?” for answers. But hey, doesn’t “Qs bell” sound kinda cool?

Weekly Young Jump 2015, Joint issue no. 4~5, Center colour illustration

[T/N: Not completely raw, but close enough. Scan for this illustration done by Twisted Hel Scans (also RIP).]

You’ve probably realized it by now, but the opening pages and the center colour illustrations from the YJ magazines were printed as they originally were back then.

Since the magazine design would be lost for those who didn’t buy the magazine back then, it would’ve been a shame since L.S.D. (the design company) worked extremely hard to make it look good. I also think the blurbs that my editor came up can be considered a work of their own (such as ‘Qs bell’).

Of course, I’m sure there are people who want to see the paintings in their original state. I felt the same way which was why I was conflicted about it, but I’ve accepted it in this form for this time.

The volume illustrations and the magazine illustrations have been arranged in chronological order as much as possible. I hope you can enjoy it together with the circumstances of my editor’s work.

If I ever get another opportunity, I’d like to have an art book with just illustrations only.

Weekly Young Jump 2015, Joint issue no. 6~7, Opening colour page

[T/N: The version of this illustration in zakki:re doesn’t include any text.]

Colour pinup from the appendix of YJ magazine. I added in Scarecrow who hadn’t appeared in the story yet (I didn’t know when I would add him in). I had fun drawing the 4 people above. I really like Nutcracker in particular.

Weekly Young Jump 2015, Joint issue no. 6~7, Special long pinup

The character popularity poll illustration contest (I think it was with Nico Nico Seiga). I drew some shikishi and gave them as gifts to those who submitted illustrations. This illustration itself feels nostalgic.

Weekly Young Jump 2015, Issue no. 12, Opening colour page

[T/N: Updated with HQ scans from TG_Hub. Thank you!]

The cover of :re volume 2 featuring Touka.

I chose something relaxing for the off-centre composition while still following the general flow of the OG volume, conveying that she has become more cunning. A reference to "zakki", so it'd be great if you could compare between the two.

Haise looks good in shades of brown.

This is the interior of the Chateau where the Qs resided, and it was designed by a good friend who I’ll call J-chan. A luxury home with the Qs’ bedrooms, common room, kitchen, Haise’s room, and the training room, fully furnished. I got the data from him so that I could preview it and look around in 3-D, so I included it in the instructions for drawing the backdrop as a reference. Thanks!

[T/N: If you want to see the comparison to OG zakki, click here. Also, the Qs chateau that Ishida’s friend designed...is ripped from The Sims 4. No, I’m not kidding.]

Weekly Young Jump 2015, Volume 2 cover

I took a bunch of my scribbles and reused them for the colour pages in the volume.

At the very beginning I drew Mucchan (Mutsuki Tooru), and moved on to other characters from there. As Saiko hadn't appeared in the story yet, her face isn't shown here. "Saiko absolutely won't show up for an entire volume," was my iron will.

2015, Volume 2, Frontispiece

#Tokyo Ghoul #zakki:re #Ishida Sui #Translations #my translations #zr translations #first part done!!#please be excited with me!!#also tfw the hardest part about making these posts is the formatting

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wheeloffortune-design · 6 years ago

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What’s coming this year

Chronicles of a depressive overachiever: i got the rest of my year planned.

-- Le Monde dans ma boîte à lunch, children book about diversity and cultural exchange through lunches, came out today, so that’s done. Yay! I got a new book! It should be available through my online store as soon as I get the copies they promised me.

-- Avengers Pinup Calendar 2020, coming out in July for Comic Con, Pre-sale starts this week.

-- The Feminism 101 comic (French and English) on paper - Will be available at Montreal Comic-Con and online.

-- Pépins de Pomme tome 1: Aventures de pirate / Appleseeds tome 1: Pirates adventures - children adventure book, aimed at girls from 4 to 8, comes out in November 2019 (it’s all sketched out, it leaves me 4 months to draw the finals).

-- Je cherche un livre / The book was blue, a comic about my experience working in a bookstore. Should be ready Spring 2020. They’re all sketched I just need to draw them neat.

Translation plans: Trying to find a way to get Hiéroglyphes, the fantasy novel, translated from French to English. Find time to translate Emmanuel, the comic, from English to French. Bilingual trouble...

I think I’ll leave Spring/Summer/rest of 2020 to work on Hiero 2. Future plans are nebulous, probably another Appleseeds (in space, this time!), and the production of Couchsurfing (tome 1), the space epic comic series I’m planning with my sis.

Before some people who know me intervene, I WILL take care of myself and my mental health, and work on things at my own pace. It seems a lot, but I reworked my plans to have one project at a time, so I’ll be chill.

(IF ANYONE KNOWS A WAY TO MAKE CLONES PLEASE CONTACT ME.)

Anyway, anything you are hyped about? I fully believe in every single one of my projects but I’m curious to see what you guys think of all that.

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glutko · 6 years ago

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FNaF Bootleg Merch VI: China Edition

View the previous five parts here.

To cut a long story short, AliExpress and Wish.com had enough bootleg FNaF stuff for me to make a sixth part to this series, and maybe even a seventh. This series just won’t die!

Anyways, let’s dive right in. This one’s longer than usual due to some interesting design choices made by the bootleggers.

Let’s start off with a bootleg of a Funko Pop! The most beloved of merchandise have gotten the quality treatment from bootleggers across the ocean. How does it fare?

Badly. I’ve shown this off previously in an unrelated post, but it’s too good to not include here. This figure of “Funtime Foxsde” - every FNaF Pop made by these guys have ‘sde’ at the end of the character’s name - has the body of a white Springtrap, yet clearly shows the original body for it on the box.

Speaking of the box, it drags out the esses of the FNaF logo like a snake character, and is made by a company called “Popipo Games”. So, what, did Hatsune Miku make this bootleg herself?

While looking up Popipo Games, I ended up finding these bootleg “Minecraftimm” Pops on a Russian site! These seem to have articulated limbs, which automatically makes them better than their FNaF Pops. We have “Creeperer“ with a horrified expression, “Steveve“ with a broken neck, his clone in “Diamond Armoror”, and a “Ocelotot” with a Skeleton’s body and blue eye-shadow.

Pure quality. Thanks, Russia. That is, if you even come from Russia.

Let’s get back on track now. This is FNAF Bootleg Merch, after all! Here’s some figures based on Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Simulator.

Uh... wow. These are something, alright! From left to right, top to bottom, we have bra-wearing Scrap Baby who fell into a vat of paint stripper, a statue of Orville Elephant carved out of pumpkins, a sunburnt Pigpatch holding a giant spoon, Rockstar Foxy with an exploding briefcase and a giant foot, a horrified Rockstar Freddy, and a melting chocolate El Chip with a UFO strapped to his head.

Phew, that was a mouthful. Let’s look at a phone case I found on Wish.com that has fanart of Vincent on it!

It’s a “Phone Upgrade”, apparently. But if anything, it’s more of a downgrade - you’ll be supporting art theft, have a crappy phone case that might cause future problems due to dubious quality, and be marked for death by the Rebornicult. Ah, the wonders of the Internet!

Also, it was originally $40? Really?!

Here’s some bootleg FNaF not-LEGO minifigs, featuring more stolen fanart, Freddy and Bonnie after eating bees, and a microphone and hook made out of cheese. I’m surprised that it took this long for bootleg LEGO minifigs to show up in this series!

At some point, the LEGO bootleggers thought that it’d be sweet to make larger figures based on the Sister Location/Twisted Ones blind bags. Which is how we ended up with these monstrosities, and I ain’t talking about the animatronics!

For the most part, these bootlegs look okay, if a bit crap when it comes to their paint job. And then we have Ella the doll, who has stolen Chica’s bib as well as Toy Chica’s short shorts, and has horrid, nasty monkey feet. Good job, guys! This won’t be the last bootleg from WZP Pong...

Let’s take a look at some bootleg stickers, according to the listing’s name. They look more like trading cards, but whatever.

For the most part, these stickers are as generic as they can be - stolen fan renders, stolen artwork, you know the drill. But there are two notable outliers in this set; the first has a screenshot of a bootleg FNaF dentist mobile game. So we’ve got another case of bootleg Inception. Nice!

The second is a pinup featuring a familiar-looking Purple Guy and Phone Guy. Because, you know, it wouldn’t be a FNaF Bootlegs post without a little bit of the Rebornica AU thrown in!

Let’s move on to some more bootleg figures. We’re not done with Minecraft just yet - here’s a full playset featuring the main four animatronics in the blockiest world ever!

There’s a lot to cover here, so I’ll just rapidly state some oddities about this set, starting now! The ore is green like emeralds but has the standard ore texture, and seems to be a sticker slapped on a cardboard box. The horse looks like it’s diseased. What are those two pebbles at the bottom for? Why are there LEGO minifigs on the box? What are those flowers from? Who designed the original skins? Foxy’s eyepatch looks like an afterthought. The bed looks like a matchbox.

And done. We’re almost at the end, I promise!

I picked this bootleg out simply because of its amazing display image. It seems to depict Nightmarionne dying in Nightmare Freddy’s arms like Michelangelo’s Pieta, while Nightmare and Toy Foxy watch with a look of impatience and deep thought, respectively.

Meanwhile, Nightmare Chica and Bonnie are completely ruining the scene by re-enacting Jack and Rose from Titanic, while also T-posing to assert their dominance over the scene.

And finally, from WZP Pong, we have a bootleg FNaF race track centered around a fake McDonald’s. (Maybe it’s the Pizzeria?)

Rumor has it that this bootleg inspired Scott to add Midnight Motorist to FFPS. No, I don’t know why there are two Bonnies. Or why the drive-thru menu only shows a picture of Foxy.

It’s best to not question this set, alright?

#not corruption #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #long post

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enfpurplekitti · 6 years ago

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Coming up with The Fairy Game Mother

I'd like to tell you about how I came up with my new original series, The Fairy Game Mother. Fully conceptualized in November 2018, its roots go back over a decade when I wanted to write and illustrate a manga series about four video game players who are inadvertently trapped inside a collection of video games after using a faulty game cheating device. I set it aside for other pursuits because, at the time, I recognized that I was not yet ready to work on that series. I knew that my skills in drawing, writing, and other areas needed a lot more development.

Over the past two years or so, I was knocked down by severe depression caused by a series of life events, which both paralleled and resulted in worsening health, together which caused a painful cycle of one feeding the other and back again. Through this period, my ability to work on anything creative became harder and harder until I reached a point where I felt like all of my creative ability had been turned completely OFF. However, there were a few rare moments where I was able to create, and in those "upward" moments, I watched as my art skills advanced greatly, as well as a better understanding of theme and structure in writing. I dabbled in various ideas here and there, but could find nothing I was able to commit to, being unable to bring anything COMPLETELY to life. There were ideas, but most were without much substance and I couldn't create anything usable.

Over my life time I have written and illustrated more than 20 manga - mostly original stories, but a couple of fan fics were included. I started many more manga series and one-shots, few of which survived the initial stages of ideas, partial storyboards, etc. There were two problems which plagued me the entire time, and that was my internal conflict caused by having great ideas, a tremendous ability to create compelling characters and story concepts, but also recognizing the many areas which I lacked significant understanding or skills. I could rattle off a long list of my artistic strengths, balanced by an equally long list of my artistic weaknesses and struggles. Though I received a lot of encouragement for my art talent, few people understood how VERY seriously I took my craft, nor the fact that I cannot simply write and draw manga and just post or sell it as-is and expect to be taken seriously.

I did a good bit of research on the comics and manga industry, and one of the top complaints of publishers about North American manga crafters was the lack of understanding of their own craft, often caused by a lack of EDUCATION in their craft. Assumptions are made that manga is somehow either inherently "inferior" or inherently "easier" than the comics that Americans are used to seeing cranked out by Marvel and DC, but these assumptions are complete myths. Worse than that, it seems the primary basis of education for American manga artists and writers come from the likes of Christopher Hart (don't get me started on him) and other how-to-draw-manga books, which are - even in complete collections - woefully lacking in any education of real substance. I have quite a stack of those books, and while I am able to glean a certain amount of wisdom or ideas from them, they almost all say the same thing, and teach the same "things" about drawing (here's how to draw eyes, here's how to draw mouths with different expressions) over and over again. They also basically fly through a decade or so of learning and craft crammed into 160 or so pages, which, after removing all the redundant lessons I mentioned above, reduces their "learnable" content to what I estimate to be about 15 or so pages. And just to kick you while you're already down, these books are NOT suitable for beginner artists, regardless of the fact that that is how they are marketed. There are so many things you need to learn about drawing before picking up one of those books to be effective. And after learning whatever they present in their "chapter 1", there is a lot to learn between that and their next chapter. So much information is missing, and it's no wonder so many aspiring American manga artists are unable to fulfill the basic requirements for publication!

Anyway, as I touched on before, I knew - I readily accepted - even long before I began my research on the industry that I had a lot of work ahead of me in terms of learning and development before I was ready to publicly release and monetize my manga. Somewhere around summer to autumn of last year, after my depression had made a great improvement, I was reviewing where I began and where I currently stood in terms of my skills and abilities, and it dawned on me that I was READY. I can DO this. There are, indeed, many more things I still need to learn about, but I am ready to put something out for public consumption now.

From October to November of 2018, I thought carefully about the most promising stories I had prepared, from character development to setting and genre to plot to theme. That old idea about the game cheating device floated up into my mind, and initially I rejected it. It wasn't developed enough, I didn't have a good villain, I didn't really even have well developed protagonists. But it didn't like being ignored, I guess, and it continued to pester me until suddenly I had a villain. I was impressed, but a villain wasn't enough - I still needed, well, everything else. But my mind was already at work on this, and after considering the traits my villain had, her background, her desires, one by one came the traits that my group of protagonists would require in order to counter her. Jasper came first, whom I initially labeled as "Overly Extroverted Gamer". He's a collection of many gamers I have known in my life (myself included), as well as ones I've seen on YouTube. He's loud, he's jumpy, he's impulsive, he's impatient - and he's bossy. He has many other characteristics as well, which will be revealed throughout the series. I'm also proud of the work I've put into the other three players, Lita ("Highly Empathic Gamer"), Margaret ("Super-Attractive Grrl Gamer"), and Wade ("Troll Gamer"). With this team, I found a very promising, workable manga series. I set the due date of the first chapter, World 1-1: Please Select a Player, to be March 1, 2019, in time for Agamacon, as an independent, self-published work. I had plans to print out some copies, as well as to print a few pinups to sell at a table, but unfortunately I won't be able to able to attend Agamacon this year. :( Though I have fallen behind schedule, I'm still keeping the (tentative) date of March 1 as its completion date.

I already have a collection of drawings of my characters, a few of which I have uploaded on Tumblr, Facebook, and DeviantArt in the past week. I'm finished with all the pre-production work, including script, I just have to draw the actual pages. It's going to take a lot of concentrated effort to get them all done in time, and... yes, sadly, I do anticipate missing my deadline if my body chooses to conk out and betray me again. T_T But I'm going to give it my best.

Wish me luck, you guys, and keep your eyes open for further updates - most of which will occur on my Facebook page - https://www.facebook.com/PurpleKittiArt/ - because it is the easiest for me to access on my phone on a fairly pitiful wi-fi signal. @_@

#The Fairy Game Mother #purple kitti #enfpurplekitti

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saviormysticmeme · 8 years ago

Note

Hey, can I request RFA+V+Saeran reacting to a SuicideGirl!MC? The idea just pop up in my head lolol. I loooooove your blog hehe stay awesome

RFA+V+Saeran react to SuicideGirl!MC

Some NSFW

Ok so I had to look up what ‘Suicide Girl’ meant and what Urban Dictionary told me is that it’s an alternative style that’s somewhere between emo/goth and pin up. My type of girl and it was also noted that they’re pretty sexual and kind of known for their style of erotic pics and sometimes porn.

If this isn’t what you meant and you actually meant then let me know but I think I got this one

So let’s go!

Yoosung

He’s a stuttering mess

He never knew he was into this style until he met you

He didn’t know what a Suicide Girl was but you explained it to him and he constantly blushes “Wait so…so you’re a p-porn star??”

You blush a little “Well I wouldn’t say star…”

He has a fucking nosebleed. He has nosebleeds everyday when you’re trying on new outfits because you change right in front of him and oh mah gawwww

Your tattoos. Your piercings. The way you move. Everything. And you always send him coy little glances knowing damn well you’re giving this boy the most raging boners.

Sometimes you ask him if he can help you take pictures ;*

Sometimes you send him pictures. Your photo shoots are anywhere between PG and Rated R for Rad as Fuck or Raging Boner. Whatever.

He always tries to make sure he’s not near anyone when he opens them, but one time he accidentally opened one of your pics up when he’s with his friends

It was Rated R

On the fluffier side of things

You guys dye each others hair and exchange hair clips

You constantly rave about how much you love his eyes and it makes him blush. Sometimes you wear purple contacts and the two of you take a fuck ton of selfies.

Speaking of the selfies

They’re always so cute

You look so fierce and poised and Yoosung usually has a shocked look on his face cause “MC, you’re a model I look like-”

“You look cute Yoosung now come on”

And you start snapping away. About 20 selfies in he gets a little more confident, so he starts getting a big dopey grin on his face

It’s so cute. You look like Edgelord McGee and he’s just this little Vanilla Cone with a swirl of Awkward

10/10 for opposites attract

Jaehee

At first it was a total ‘Whoa what’ moment, but she loves and accepts you as her girlbestfriend :)

:))))))))))))))

She loves how confident you seem in all your pictures. It’s clear you’re doing something that makes you happy and that makes her happy.

The tongue piercing also makes her happy

She has seen all your photo shoots, she even has some physical copies of her favorite shots

The kicker is she doesn’t have them just because they’re hot

She genuinely enjoys some of your photo shoots, talking about how they’re very tasteful statement pieces

She flatters you constantly without meaning to just by going on about how good you are with keeping your style consistent but making variations to fit the social setting

You think she’s talking about how even at RFA parties you’re elegant, but your dark pinup taste is evident with your V cut black dress with the leg slit accompanied by the stilettos and choker.

But who really knows.

You’ve totally tried dressing her up before

Remember in her route how she asked about dark lipstick?

It works for her.

Works reaallllllly well.

But she’s pretty awkward about it all

“I don’t know, MC, I don’t think I’m bold enough for this style”

You give a small pout as you undress her, but that frown is quickly turned upside down because

Hey you’re undressing Baehee B)

Zen

He’s so down

You were worried because he always talks about you being his ‘Princess’ and being a Suicide Girl wasn’t very…. ‘Princessy’

He agrees. It isn’t.

It’s very…. ‘Queeny’

It totally reminds him of his motorcycle gang days

When you two go out he loves to wear his leather jackets and dark sunglasses, but his favorite accessory is his hand wrapped around your waist.

You two are constantly serving L o o k s

Some of his fans rag on you for your promiscuous activities, but Zen shuts that shit down real quick.

Some really skeevy Paparazzos will try getting a rise out of him

“Hey Zen, how do you feel about anyone and everyone seeing your girlfriend naked?”

Zen whips around, staring daggers into this man, half of him fighting the urge to FUCKIN BRAWL

You tighten your grip on his arm and whisper in his ear “They can see me, but you’re the only one who gets to touch baby”

His scowl quickly turns into a grin as he looks at you.

T H E B E A S T H A S A W O K E N

He ignores the paparazzi and rushes you to the car so you two can rush the fuck home and get

Nasty.

That’s the way to describe the sex between you two because he can’t control himself whatsoever when you’ve got those tattoos, those piercings, that hair. The attitude.

And fuck, half the comments on your photos are just guys telling you what the want to do with you in a bedroom so you know how to please Zen.

Sometimes he gets jealous and a little pissy about all the people commenting on your videos and photos

But he remembers you’re just in the performance game, same as him.

And when you promise that you’re all his

Well

huehuehue

Jumin

He’s so conflicted

This is not an image he can be associated with, not as the future CEO of C&R. And his father is quick to remind him of that, constantly breathing down Jumin’s neck about how he can’t be seen with you.

But Jumin loves you…and honestly the style is a bit of a guilty pleasure

He likes the leather, the chains, the tattoos and piercings.

They were things he never saw women wearing when he grew up

It made it very easy for his subconscious to latch onto you because you were nothing like any woman his father ever brought home. You were nothing like the women who had tried using Jumin for his money

You were something new and he liked it. A lot.

So even he was a little heartbroken to hear you say you’d change your style so you two could be seen in public together. You’d quit your job. You’d be whatever he needed because you loved him and didn’t want to hinder his life. He came home one day to find you dressed head to toe in casual clothes, your piercings taken out, your hair dyed all black instead of the plethora of colors it had been before.

Fuck that

He picked up his phone and started making a series of calls. First to the hair dresser, then to a stylist, then to 707.

“Jumin what are you doing??” You asked, confused as to why he wasn’t happy with your new appearance.

“You’re not changing for me.” He grunted in between calls. “I want you to be happy when you’re with me, not playing dress up and acting like something you’re not.”

You guys reached an agreement

707 would wipe any traceable history of your videos and more racy pictures so no one could connect you to the more sexual part of your career. You’d get your hair done however you wanted, and you chose to get it done a nice, dark navy color, something still fun but a little more subdued. You put most of your piercings back in, leaving a few out, and a stylist would pick out nothing but the best clothes that matched your style while maintaining a very elegant look.

One day Jumin tells you to turn on a TV to a local fashion network

You do and suddenly you see a stream of pictures pouring across the screen featuring key points of SuicideGirl style and the host going ‘Is the American ‘SuicideGirl’ style coming to Korea? While previously receiving a lot of scrutiny, we’re seeing a new shift in this trend that makes it look very … classy. Especially if you look at M.C., girlfriend of C&Rs very own Jumin Han’

A picture of you and Jumin walking down the street together is shown, both of you freshly dressed to death looking good as hell. Jumin is looking right at the paparazzi’s camera…like he knew it was there

“Jumin…did you convince a fashion network that I’m a classy alternative fashion icon?”

“It’s amazing what money can do. Now…I can enjoy you for you” He purred the last part as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a kiss

707

He loves it.

You’re the perfect mix of pinup and alternative. The red lipstick and tattoos combo really turns him on.

He took your professional photos and made them his background on everything

His 7 computes

His tablet

His ipod

He hacked all his gaming systems so you’re the background/opening screen

The only place he doesn’t have one of your pro pics is his phone

That’s reserved for silly pictures of you two

He loves just tracing your tattoos with his fingers, talking about them, planning your next ones with you

Planning out all your outfits with you

He tries helping you dye your hair but that never works well for anyone.

He kisses every single one of your facial piercings all the time and the other ones

He occasionally buys fake tattoo sleeves and magnet piercings and dresses up like you

He uploads his photos to the same sites you’re on and sometimes this motherfucker gets more views

He always reads through the comments left on your videos and photos. If someones messing with you or get a little too raunchy, bet your ass their computer is fucked.

“Seven people are complaining their computers crash when they comment on my stuff”

“Huh, weird”

He’s a little uncomfortable with the video career. Just because he knows there are so many people being so…crude towards you because of it. You assure him it’s nothing, but he just hates the idea of anyone saying anything sexual or rude to you

He makes a proposal: You model for him instead. Photos of you to be put in galleries instead of online posts for sexual deviants to get their kicks off of

And you two can record your own private videos

I’ll let you decide if you take him up on it or not

Anyways

You probably saw this one coming but

So. Many. Photos.

He’s never had a subject like you and he’s eating it up

His photos always had a calm, peaceful, serene tone to them

The photos he takes of you? Passionate, daring, sexual.

You pose for days and you two could go for hours.

He’s never been bothered by nude models, but when you start stripping your clothes he gets a little flustered

“MC, we don’t have to do nude if you’d rather not. I know we have a relationship so if you’d rather save yourself…”

You grin at him, unclip your bra, and drop it all while maintaining eye contact

His eyes widen, his mouth drops, and his camera flash goes off.

Even if he gets his eyes fixed, his time being blind made him reliant on his other senses, especially touch.

Sometimes when you two are spooning, you take his hand and have him trace all your tattoos. Every time you hit a piercing he gently circles it with his index finger, and traces the shapes of the ones you have that aren’t typical rounds.

Everyone admits they never imagined you two getting together, but you foil each other nicely.

Sometimes you slip edgier pieces into his wardrobe

“MC, I don’t remember having black pants that were this…tight”

“Try them on. Trust me.” You grin when he can’t deny you the satisfaction of trying them on.

Saeran

Need I say it?

You two are the Edgelords of the century

You take pictures with him all the time and post him, constantly sending your followers into fits over the fact you guys are ‘#Goals’ or how ‘Oh my god they’re both so hot’

You get a few comments that are “Do a video together!”

Saeran doesn’t get it. What do they mean about a video together.

When he finds out

Hohohohoho

He gets so flustered and uppity. He’s pissed at your followers. “Tell them to fuck off”

But he never says he opposed to doing a video just for the two of you

Anyways

You guys take each other’s shit constantly. You’re constantly wrapped up in his hoodies, he’s always swiping your hats and belts.

Dye each other’s hair of course

Tattoo dates. Matching ones? Sure. But even when it’s just one of you getting one the other comes along and they make a day out of it

He follows you to work all the time

Someones taking racy pictures of you? If they’re a dirtbag about it I’m breaking their jaw.

You and some of your Suicide Girl friends are going out in public together? Saeran follows, never far behind.

Any douchebags on the street give you problems? He breaks their jaw.

He goes through the comments on your videos

And they piss him off so much, but then you remind him that you’re all his

Alllll hisss

222 notes · View notes

profoundnet · 5 years ago

Text

Profound Member Post - January 2020

Header by @cryptomoon and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis (and more!) on our Discord server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in their entirety during that month.

This months round up is extra special as PB celebrated its 2 year anniversary with a creation birthday bash. You will find submissions for this monumental occasion marked with a 🎂 emoji! Happy Birthday PB and thank you to everyone who makes this server, and our corner of the fandom so great!

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR JANUARY 2020!

Featuring works by @nox-lee, @nickelkeep, @maleyah-givemetomorrow, @banshee1013, ArielAquarial, @castielslostwings, @butterflydreaming-writes-fic, @goldenraeofsun, @jemariel, @surlybobbies, @blueeyesandpie, @rauko-creates, @foxymoley, @maggiemaybe160, and, @andimeantittosting!

Masterpost below the cut.

noxlee - @nox-lee - noxlee - (Pillowfort)

Soft (E, 1.7k)

15x10 coda. Dean discovers that his new "normal" extends to his sex life as well.

Tags: coda, established relationship, mediocre sex

nickelkeep - @nickelkeep - nickelkeep

Tupelo Honey (E, 5.5k) 🎂

When one of his co-workers fall through on a photo shoot, Dean steps up to help out and cover it. Who knew that there was a such thing as a beekeeper's society? And who knew that a gorgeous blue-eyed man would be a beekeeper?

Tags: AU - Modern, Photographer!Dean, Beekeeper!Cas, Nude Photoshoot, Pinups, Cas acts like Endverse!Cas, Semi-Public Sex

Time Alone (T, 1.9k) 🎂

Dean wants some alone time with Cas. The best way to do that? Find a case and tell Sam and Jack to stay behind.

Tags: Canonverse, Casefic, Salt and Burn, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Impala Kisses.

‘Til I Found Salvation (M, 14k)

Finding your soulmate isn't hard when almost everyone has multiple soulmates; four, five even upwards of seven. It's rare to have only three soul marks and people who only have two? Sucks to be them. And the poor sons of bitches who only have one? They're the unluckiest of all. Dean Winchester knows a thing or two about being unlucky.

Tags: Canonverse, Canon Divergent, Soulmate Marks, Angst with a Happy Ending, Temp. MCD, Whump, Hurt/Comfort

Something to Talk About (T, 5.6k)

Charlie pointed up at her ear. "You don't hear that?"

"Hear what?" Dean closed his eyes and rested for a moment. He realized that music played in the background and started searching for the source immediately. "Wait, is that... Is that Zeppelin playing?

"Bunker, play 'Houses of the Holy,'" Charlie replied, a smirk on her face.

The first few haunting notes of the Zeppelin classic started playing, and Dean's head whipped around in surprise. "Where's that coming from? Did you buy one of those damned Alexa Despacito things for the bunker?"

Tags: Canonverse, AU - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Charlie & Sam ship Destiel, Home Automation, Domesticity in the Bunker, Pranks and Practical Jokes

Balance to the Force (E, 7.5k)

When needing their privacy in open areas, Charlie and Dean have no problem switching to an uncommon language - Sindarin, from Lord of the Rings. But when they start speaking it at Nerd Convention, does Dean bite off more than he can chew?

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, AU - ComicCons, Gratuitous Nerdiness, Polygot!Cas, Language/Accent Kink, Strangers to Lovers

Space Oddity (SFW) 🎂

Art for @maggiemaybe160‘s fic Space Oddity

Maleyah - @maleyah-givemetomorrow - Maleyah

Where the Corporeal and Poetry Meet (E, 3.6k)

Part one of a series of ficlets exploring a season 9 divergence, where Cas is brought back to the Bunker and explores his humanity with Dean. "Straddling him as they make out, Dean whispers the suggestion that night. He binds Castiel’s hands with his own tie, which spikes Castiel’s breathing. He’s sure that if he still possessed his grace, his eyes would light up the dimly lit room in pale blue. His eventual orgasm knocks the breath out of him and it takes a long time to come back down into the safe circle of Dean’s arms.

They take it from there."

Tags: Human!Cas, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Soft Dom!Dean, Soft sub!Cas, Poetry, Idiots in Love, Domestic Fluff

Where Kinks and Breakfast Meet (M, 3k)

Part two of a season 9 divergence series where Cas gets brought back to the Bunker and explores his humanity with Dean. "But he still wants to engage Cas. Fully. He’s only unwilling to put Cas at a similar risk, despite Cas’ persistent reassurances that his drop was related to the realisation that hit him mid-play. They do further research together. Into shibari. Into bondage. Into subspace. Drops. Both on the Dom and sub’s end. So he realises he suffered one in the wake of their moment and that he went about handling it the wrong way. A few days ago, Dean found a promising list, which he insisted they fill in to avoid a repeat performance. With everything they have been up to, Dean has faith (who knew?) they are compatible, but he wants clarity. He smiles at the feelings that loosens up inside his chest and huffs, rolling his eyes at himself."

Tags: Human!Cas, Kink Negotiation, Domestic Fluff, Soft Dom!Dean, Soft sub!Cas, switching implied, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester

Banshee1013 - @banshee1013 - Banshee1013

Texas Sun (M, 4k) 🎂

Ever since Cas and Dean tied the knot, they have been driving Sam *insane* with their inappropriately located and utterly spontaneous make-out suggestions. So when he finds them looking at filming locations for the movie "Tombstone" in Arizona, he suggests they take some time (and give him a break!) and road-trip it. Dean plans the route and takes the long way 'round through Texas - all the more time to spend with his angel, and show him some sights along the way.

Tags: Fluff, Road Trips, Sam Winchester is Not Amused, Honeymoon, Grinding, Canon Related, Established Relationship

ArielAquariel - ArielAquariel

Your hand in mine, we walk the miles (E, 11.5k)

With the big day finally there, Dean is more than ready to walk down that aisle and marry Cas.

Tags: Wedding Fluff, Honeymoon, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe, Castiel is Claire Novak's Parent, Fluff, Domestic Fluff

castielslostwings - @castielslostwings - castielslostwings

Slide Away (E, 51k)

Since meeting and falling in love in front of the camera a decade ago, movie star Dean Winchester and his husband, celebrity photographer Castiel, have been the media’s darlings. From the outside, it truly appears as if the couple has it all: fame, fortune, fans and most of all, a profound and unshakeable bond that sees them through all the highs and lows. Behind the scenes, everything is not as it seems. Beyond carefully-curated sets of photos and filters, Dean and Castiel have been falling apart for years. Their marriage is essentially over, the latest victim in Hollywood’s merciless grinder. As a last-ditch effort to punch out some positive PR before news of their split breaks, the boys agree to do one last PR stunt—a recreation of the photos that made the world fall in love with them (while they were falling for each other). Will this plan drive their relationship over the edge permanently? Or will Dean and Castiel finally realize that their fans aren’t the only ones who have been fooled by all the smoke and mirrors? Misunderstandings, miscommunication, and mistrust are only the beginning. But if our heroes can push past those mistakes, perhaps they can learn that it's never too late to start all over again.

Tags: Miscommunication, Misunderstanding, Fake Relationship, Idiots back to lovers, Movie Star Dean, Photographer Castiel, Accidental sex tape, divorce, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending.

looks_clear (chrysalisdreams) - @butterflydreaming-writes-fic - looks_clear (chrysalisdreams)

White Light // Black Water (T, 7k)

In 2019, the Baozhu, a pearl that granted the desire of Dean’s heart, changed the timeline from a particular moment in 2003. Dean is hunting alone when events set in motion before that year catch up to him.

Tags: Drowning, Temporary Character Death, Car Accidents, Baby Gets Hurt, Time Travel, Episode Related, Episode S8e12: As Time Goes By, Episode S14e300: Lebanon, Kale!Sam, Alternate Angel Lore

goldenraeofsun - @goldenraeofsun - goldenraeofsun

Dean Winchester and the Patron Saint of Blind Dates (T, 18k)

Dean Winchester's friends are a bunch of traitors. So he had a bad breakup two years ago and hasn't gotten back on the horse. Their intervention - a series of blind dates - can't be the solution. But if this'll get his friends to stop, Dean can choke down over-priced spaghetti, make forced conversation, and drink whatever random cocktail the weirdo behind the bar makes for him next. At least Cas has Dean's back. One word from Dean, and he'll make excuses for Dean to bail like a super awkward knight in shining armor.

Tags: Human AU, Bartender Cas, Dean has self-worth issues, minor angst, Benny & Dean friendship, minor Sam/Ruby

jemariel - @jemariel - jemariel

Spit-Polish and Shine (E, 1.5k) 🎂

You know how Dean Winchester doesn't wear shorts? Well. Sometimes he does. Unredeemed filthy porn on a car. Prompted by a PB botstat.

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex on a Car, Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Sam Winchester is Scarred For Life

surlybobbies - @surlybobbies - surlybobbies

I Like the Sound of That (T, 1k)

In mid-December, Gabe hangs a sprig of mistletoe in Cas’s foyer. Cas, resisting the temptation to strangle his brother, snaps a picture and sends it to Dean. Take it down or leave it up? Idk dude. U trying to catch someone under there? Cas hedges. I don’t want to kiss anyone who’d only do it because of a plant. Fair enough. Just leave it up tho. U’ll break an ankle climbing up ur rickety ladder. Dw u don’t have to kiss me Cas puts his phone down and doesn’t reply. He indulges in two glasses of wine and valiantly tries to avoid thinking about kissing Dean.

Tags: friends to lovers, christmas fic, fluff, mistletoe, au

Lucky Enough (T, 2.5k)

Dean opened his mouth, ready to argue, but then closed it just as suddenly, deflating. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Cas, I don’t mean to be a dick.” “Then stop being one,” Cas said simply, adjusting the blankets around Dean a little more securely. There was a pause. Dean blinked. “You’re supposed to say that I wasn’t being a dick in the first place.” “I dislike lying to you.” Dean scowled. “Why am I your friend?” “Because I spend my holidays looking after you when you’re sick,” Cas said matter-of-factly, reaching out to touch Dean’s forehead. [Dean's sick over the New Year's Eve holiday, but it's fine because Cas has got a bed to share.]

Tags: holiday fic, bed sharing, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, new year's kiss, cuddling

blueeyesandpie - @blueeyesandpie - blueeyesandpie

Beginnings (SFW) 🎂

The door to Dean's room in the Bunker, with Cas's tie on the doorknob

Tags: the bunker, pb100, we all know what's happening in there

In the California Sun (SFW)

A commissioned painting for Slide Away of Dean and Cas standing in a pool.

Tags: slide away, commissions, the tension amirite

Commission for Slide Away (SFW)

A commission for Slide Away of Cas running into Dean's arms along a corridor lined with photos of their rekindled romance.

Tags: commission, yay they happy

The Kiss Cam (E, 8k) 🎂

Dean's excited about the tickets he got for the OSU/UofM football match, but his boyfriend Crowley seems intent on ruining the day (and possibly his life) for him. When the kiss cam settles on them and Crowley pushes Dean away, a blue-eyed man they'd met in line is more than happy to fill the void. Loosely based on the headline/prompt "Woman Kisses Man Next to Her on Kiss Cam After Date Snubs Her."

Tags: manipulative crowley, non-explicit dean/crowley, minor sabriel, strangers to lovers, angst and fluff and e-rated shenanigans, NOT a sports story, pb birthday bash, collaboration

Say It Straight (T, 1.7k) 🎂

Something went wrong in that milk run to Kentucky, but neither Dean nor Cas want to explain what happened. When the truth does come out, it isn't at all what Sam expected...though really, why should he be surprised?

Tags: PoV: Sam Winchester, Sam ships it, Idiots to Lovers, Canonverse, drinking to cope, PB Bot Prompts, first time, no spoilers past season 13

rauko-creates - @rauko-creates - FeaRauko

Sing Love (T, 2.7k)

Castiel comes back from a grocery run with Sam and overhears Dean singing in the shower. ***or*** That one where Castiel finds out that Dean might love him too.

Tags: canonverse, singing, idiots in love, first kiss, fluff, some angst, love confessions

foxymoley - @foxymoley - foxymoley

Hell’s Companion (G, 350 words)

This is for saltnhalo's birthday!

It's hard to write for someone so talented but I scoured PB for any prompts she had shown an interest in and apparently she 'needed this'! Lol So here we are!

Prompt by Sky: You’ve heard of witch!cas and familiar!dean now consider this upgrade to demon!cas and hellhound!dean - hellhounds, of course, having a secret human form in this au.

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Demon Castiel, Hellhound Dean, non-explicit/implied torture of random unnamed demon, mention of Boy King Sam

Roll for Dragons (T, 2.8k) 🎂

Dean is offered up as a sacrifice by his corrupt hometown. Written for jdragon as part of the Profoundbond birthday bash.

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Jo Harvelle, Dragons, Alternate Universe - Historical

Mithril (G, 1k) 🎂

Dean makes an interesting discovery in a bunker storeroom so he and Sam perform some experiments.

Tags: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Weapons, The Lord of the Rings References, Men of Letters, Bunker, Soft!Dean

MaggieMaybe160 - @maggiemaybe160 - MaggieMaybe160

Birthday Wishes (M, 3.5k)

Dean recalls his past birthdays before going out to celebrate his 41st.

Tags: Graphic Violence Warning. Heavy Angst. Anti-John Winchester.

Broken (M, 700 words)

Dean snaps out of a dreamlike state and found he's made a huge mistake and it's Zachariah's fault. All part of a plan to get him to say yes to Michael.

Tags: Graphic Violence Warning. Major Character Death Warning. Heavy Angst.

Demon Deals and Prayers to Angels (T, 4.5k) 🎂

Dean makes a deal with a demon so he can go back in time and change the future.

Tags: Major Character Death Warning. Heavy Angst.

Sleep Oddity (T, 1.5k) 🎂

Based on a prompt: "I just want to go home," said the astronaut. "So come home," said Ground Control. "So come home," said a voice from the stars.

Tags: Major Character Death Warning

Falling (T, 2k) 🎂

Cas remembers all of the times that Heaven was against he and Dean getting together, and the repeated times he didn't care.

Tags: Graphic Violence Warning. Happy Ending.

Memories on Display (T, 2k) 🎂

Cas is in shock after a battle and is going through memories to try to cope with loss.

Tags: Major Character Death. Grief.

andimeantittosting - @andimeantittosting - andimeantittosting

On a Breath of Snow (G, 4.5k)

Once, Castiel, Duke of Rexford, gave up the love of his life in the name of duty and honour. He has dedicated his life to raising his son Jack. Now, a fierce snowstorm brings Dean, Viscount Winchester back into his life on Christmas Eve. And as North Cove Castle's fires burn warm and festive, so do Dean and Castiel’s feelings of hope.

Tags: Regency AU, Getting back together, Christmas, Alternate history

#Profoundnet Monthly Masterpost #january masterpost #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #spn #sorry this took so long guys!#the past months have been A Lot

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norafinds · 8 years ago

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ATWWV - Laila Shalimar

Third post of the Around The World With Vintage and I cannot be more excited for you to read this. Today I would like to introduce you to the Australian-Pakistani pin up Midcentury Mermaid aka Laila Shalimar. I was really excited when I discovered Laila as she is definitely the perfect person to feature on this series. I started this series because I wanted to talk to vintage wearers about culture, nationalities, and identities. Laila has the most fascinating stories growing up in Pakistan and moving to Australia at 16. I thought it would great for me (and you) to learn about Pakistan and its history. I asked her about the Westernised Pakistan that I've seen in vintage photographs as well as her views on being a Desi woman and a pin up girl.

Hi Laila, tell us a little bit about you!

My name is Laila Shalimar. I am a twenty something tattooed pinup of colour from Western Australia. When I am not working one of my two reception jobs, you can find me in the library of Edith Cowan University where I am a student of Criminology and Counter Terrorism. I am passionate about writing and the art of storytelling. Being able to speak 2 languages other than English, linguistics have always been a source of comfort for me. The written word has been a source of solace during some of the most isolating and vulnerable moments of my life and I am grateful to be able to share my experiences with others through the power of writing. I have had some of my pieces published by magazines such as Adore Pinup Magazine, Retro Vintage Review, Damsel Magazine, Dircksey and I hope to continue writing for as long as my mind will let me tell stories.

What is your racial and cultural background?

Because I don’t have an Anglo Australian accent, I often get people asking me where I am “really from”. This is usually after a long and embarrassing guessing game where every country but Pakistan is thrown in as a possibility. I dread these kind of interactions because it makes me feel like my accent, name and appearance prevents me from being considered “Aussie” and also because I never know how people will react to my “identity story”. For one thing, I never know whether they are asking about my ethnicity/race or where I have lived before I moved to Australia. First and foremost, I consider myself a Desi Australian. I was born in Peshawar, Pakistan to a Muslim Pashtun father and a mother of mixed Indo European ancestry. I grew up between Karachi, Islamabad, and Peshawar. I have also lived in the UK and briefly in some parts of Europe. Because I went to an English Grammar school for most my life and was practically raised on American cable, I have a very American sounding accent. I moved to Australia with my family in 2013 and have lived here ever since. Because I was sixteen at the time, I never managed to pick up an Australian accent.

People make the mistake of assuming that “Pakistani” is a racial or ethnic identity when it is merely a nationality. Pakistan is a small country that only came into existence in 1947. Prior to that it was part of the Indian subcontinent and fell under the British Raj. My father’s generation was the first generation to be born in Pakistan. My grandparents were born in British India as it was called. Pakistan hosts a multitude of races and ethnicities much like Australia does and many of us refer to ourselves as Desi or “of the motherland/subcontinent”. I like to think of myself as a Desi Australian because I have a very mixed ethnic background, most of which can be traced to the Indian subcontinent. I value all these beautiful aspects of my ethnicity and often wonder what stories lie hidden in my genes. In my appearance I see a kaleidoscope- as time progresses and my features change, I cannot help but wonder about the ancestors in the obscured and missing branches of my family tree.

First prime minister and first lady of Pakistan during their US visit. The two have been credited for the Pakistan Movement that gained the country its independence. Photo by unknown, provided by US Department of State as part of the album "Visit of his Excellency Liaquat Ali Khan, Prime Minister of Pakistan, to the United States of America, May 3 to May 26, 1950." (Missouri Digital Heritage) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Tell us about your family and your childhood

My mother was 25 when she had me. She had only been married to my father for a year and they lived in a teeny tiny little studio apartment in Peshawar in a “not so desirable” part of town. My mother said she spent a lot of her pregnancy reading and eating tropical fruits. The day I made my entry into the world, she had been reading Valley of the Dolls and eating pomegranates and rock melon. It was a scorching 39 degrees and they had no air conditioning in their apartment. I was born on the 12th of June 1987, in the middle of a heatwave, in a small maternity home at 3pm in the afternoon. My parents did not know they were expecting a daughter and in a society that valued a male heir so strongly, my birth went largely unnoticed outside my immediate family. I was given an old Persian name that I wish I could share with your readership because it has the most delicate sound when pronounced correctly. I was raised in a household full of books, laughter, kitchen table science experiments and the concept of a Ubiquitous but loving God who didn’t care whether I prayed to him in the customary Arabic or my mother tongue of Pashto. I was raised to ask questions and my parent’s ensured they always answered truthfully and to the best of their knowledge.

I was soon joined by two siblings, a brother and a sister and we lived a pretty happy and carefree life amidst the political turmoil of Pakistan’s 90s. I grew up worshipping The Spice Girls, swooning over Nick Carter from the Backstreet Boys, having slumber parties with my schoolmates where we watched movies like Clueless and Never been kissed over and over while painting our toenails bright blue. Summer vacations were spent finding inventive ways to stay cool during ”load-shedding” (where an entire suburb loses power for a week at a time), trips to the British Council Library in Islamabad to borrow books like Matilda and the BFG, eating gola ghanda (local shaved ices) with the other neighbourhood kids and going on long road trips to see our grandparents in Peshawar. And in the background of my childhood and early teens governments were sworn in, governments were kicked out. Each party made promises it would not or could not keep before being replaced in some kind of political ousting. Sometimes there would be Union strikes that would result in school being called off for a few days and we would grow bored and restless indoors waiting to get back to our schoolyard and our friends. Pakistan in the 90s was the best bits of the west and the east tossed together like Chaat Masala on fries, coca cola with Naan Kebab, and Friday prayers after the Power Puff Girls marathon. Had I known what was to follow in the years to come, I would have committed more to memory.

I feel like my life can neatly be divided into two parts: pre and post 9/11. The collapse of the Twin Towers on September 11th and the so called “War on Terror” that followed had a major impact on the world I lived in. While Pakistan has by no means known peace and tranquility in its short existence thanks to our politicians, our military and our religious right, this time the instability was coming from politicians in an office more than 12,000 KM away from us. In war, they say, it is children that become the first casualties of damage physical and spiritual. The thing that will haunt me for the rest of my life are the tired eyes of small Afghan children attempting to sleep in strange doorsteps on freezing winter mornings. It was October when they first started piling into Peshawar, children no older than 5 or 6 unaccompanied by parents in the back of trucks huddling together like chickens roosting. The local hospitals were full of children with injuries from shellings, shrapnel embedded in limbs that often needed amputation, sometimes with very little anaesthetic. Often times the littlest ones would perish due to chest infections left unattended. Our country did not have the finances nor the infrastructure to take on the sheer volume of refugees that were making their way across the Khyber Pass once more. Aid arrived from the UN at a snail’s pace and the US happily wrote off these people as “collateral damage” forgetting that they were the children and family of the men and women who fought the Russians for them in the 80s.

My mother and grandmothers helped where they could by organising “khairaat” (charity food) but there was never enough food to stave off hunger just as there would never be enough comfort for children displaced in the middle of the night. I remember hearing a doctor ask an Afghan boy of maybe six what he wanted to be when he grew up in an attempt to distract him from the tetanus shot he was about to receive. The boy with big fat tears rolling down his cheek replied that he wanted to be “a grown up” and look after his mother who was still “back home”. Things like these hurt to think about even a decade later. I was 15 then but when I look back I feel as if I was watching the world with old eyes. I feel younger now than I did then somehow. Perhaps it is because I am now watching the same things happen from far away, on a television set that I have the luxury to switch off. Some nights I think about that boy and his mother, and other children I saw on my way to my grandmother’s house or our in Baara Market. I can switch off the Tv but the human mind refuses to co operate in the same way.

How did your family decide to move to Australia? How was the experience like for all of you?

Shortly after my 15th birthday I fell into a deep and unshakeable depression. It manifested itself in very violent and angry behaviour. I got into numerous physical fights, refused to hand in assignments and spent most of my time in the school library reading instead of attending classes. I remember thinking of the futility of education when it was likely that we would all end up dead at the flick of a button. What was the point of calculus, social studies and human biology in the event of an all out World War like they kept talking about on TV when I went home every evening sulking, writing terribly morose journal entries in my diary and crying myself to sleep. I could not eat because of constant anxiety and made several attempts to end my own life when it got out of hand. My parent’s sensed that the environment I was in was causing me great distress. They were also extremely worried about the political circumstances in Pakistan and what it meant for my father’s job and our futures. My parents had applied for American, Canadian, Dutch and Australian visas. The interview processes were often followed by months of silence and then rejection letters. In January 2003, I was 6 months shy of my 16th birthday, due to sit my O level exams and had completely stopped attending school altogether. My parents were frantic. What future was there for a woman in Pakistan especially if she didn’t even have a basic high school graduation? They tried over and over to talk to me about my poor performance at school and my lacklustre behaviour at home but to no avail. I was not living, merely surviving day to day, waiting for something to drop on my house or hurt someone I loved. It was an awful time for me.

On the 11th of March 2004 at 2pm in the afternoon, I was at home with my father who was reading a newspaper in the living room. I remember every detail of this day because that was the day the mailman brought the one envelope that changed the rest of my life. I cannot remember if it was from the Australian Embassy or whether it was from my father’s colleague who had ties to the embassy but I remember him opening the envelope, reading its contents several times before looking like he was going to throw up. “As of tomorrow” he said “I want you to start considering options for your future. Australia is a very competitive country with very intelligent people and you’re going to need to be on top of your class to go to their Universities”. That was it. We were moving to Australia. My family had been granted a 5 year multiple visa and with it came the option of residency and citizenship. The only catch was that we had to be in Australia by the 5th of May. We had little under 2 months to move across continents and start a new life.

With a suitcase and a backpack each, we said our final goodbyes to family and relatives at Peshawar Airport. One of my father’s work colleagues accompanied us to the terminal gates. They had been friends since college. I heard from my mother several years later that he had been assassinated. Rumour was that someone from a rival political party had decided to take a hit out on him to ensure a district election win. The more I think about things like this, the more I take comfort in the workings of Australia’s political and legal system. It is by no means perfect but the safety it offers those of us who are lucky enough to yield it is comforting.

Does your love of vintage stem from your cultural background?

There is a Pashtun saying that our home comes alive in our stories. That is to say our histories and therefore our cultural identity provides us with a sense of belonging or home and this really resonates with me. My family moved to Australia on such short notice, with such little time on our hands that there was never any closure. We barely brought anything with us to the new country to remember it by. I never got to say goodbye properly to my life, my family or friends. I was under the impression that our move was temporary and that I would one day return to my life as I left it. Nearly 14 years have passed and I have not visited “home”. I have lost grandparents, schoolmates, and relatives. Shops, restaurants and parks I went to as a child have been reduced to rubble or ruin. People have moved on. The Pakistan I felt safe in, the Pakistan I grew up in is like a little figurine in a snow globe, a place frozen in time, in a little bubble of reminiscence. There is no reclaiming it nor will I be able to return to those carefree and happy times.

We have seen numerous articles about how Westernised Pakistan was before the 1980s. Is there a lot of vintage now in Pakistan? Do people hold on to those memorabilia or were they destroyed?

One of my favourite pieces of furniture back home was a chest of drawers that my mother had as a teenager in the 1970s. The drawers were part of an old deco set that my maternal grandparents were given as a wedding gift. In the topmost drawer, underneath some very “groovy” 60s lining paper was a little peace symbol, “Janis Joplin forever” and my mother’s initials. When I inherited the bedroom set at 13, my mother showed me this little bit of graffiti and said “When I was a teenager, i wrote this in the drawer to piss your grandmother off”. I was equal parts mesmerised and weirded out. My mother was once a teenager who liked scribbling on furniture to make her mother angry. When I recounted this story in my year 12 drama class, my classmates attempted to discredit me. In their minds it was impossible to believe that a teenager that lived in 1970s Pakistan had ever heard of Janis Joplin. The Pakistan they had heard of in pre social media 2003 was the one overrun by the Taliban and women in blue burqas. It was hard for them to comprehend the Pakistan my parents grew up in.

My father fondly recounts stories of his American Hippie friends whom he met in Peshawar restaurants en route to Kabul. They had been traveling from India and wanted to visit the Bamiyan Buddha statues in Afghanistan. Pakistan was an important destination on what was called the "hippie trail" – an overland route taken by young western backpackers between 1967 and 1979 that ran from Turkey, across Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and India, usually ending in Nepal. Numerous low-budget hotels and a thriving tourist industry sprang up (in Peshawar, Lahore and Karachi) to accommodate these travellers. The hippie trail began eroding after the 1977 military coup in Pakistan, the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran and the beginning of the Afghan civil war (in 1979).

My father delighted in telling me stories of discos and cinemas in Kabul and how he and his cousins would go on weekend trips to buy the latest in American style fashion from the markets there. I have seen photos of my mum in smart embroidered Kaftans wearing ridiculously wide bell bottom trousers topped off with big round sunnies. Like many teenage Pakistani girls of her time, my mother’s fashion choices were influenced by the 1974 box-office hit Miss Hippie. A cautionary tale of sorts, the film depicted the "effect hippie lifestyle and fashion were having on Pakistani youth" but ironically this movie seemed to draw more and more youngsters into the hippie fashion scene. When my parents and my relatives talk on skype its not long before the conversation turns to “the good ol days in Pakistan” and if I had not seen the photos with my own eyes I too would have thought they were lying to me. Live music, great food, lots of booze and dancing were the hallmarks of the scene in cities like Karachi and Lahore. Sadly, a lot of the amazing venues and attractions they spoke so lovingly about were closed down by Military Dictator Zia Ul Haq’s government in April 1977.

[Hippie trail into Aghanistan] - By Karte: NordNordWest, Lizenz: Creative Commons by-sa-3.0 de, CC BY-SA 3.0 de, Link

Is there any Pakistani vintage piece that you covet?

There are 3 pieces that I hold very dear to me that I managed to bring with me from Pakistan. The first is a pair of gold earrings my grandmother wore at one of her wedding events in the 50s. My mother wore the very same earrings to her engagement party in 1985 and I wore them as part of my day wear for Miss Pinup Australia 2016. The second is a pair of italian leather shoes my grandmother pestered my grandfather to buy her from Bata Shoes in the late 60s. The number of times they have been cobbled and resoled is incredible! I still wear them in photo shoots from time to time. The last and most important piece to me is my grandmothers rosary. My grandfather had bought her the rosary when he went to Mecca to pay pilgrimage in the early 60s. They are made of a strange kind of early plastic that glows in the dark. My grandmother would constantly be clicking the beads of the rosary, passing each through her nimble calloused fingers, reading short passages from the Quraan. She was hardly ever seen without them. The last time I saw her, she was sitting in front of an old gas heater all misty eyed with her rosary in her hand. When I sat next to her tying my shoelaces, she looked at me and said “i want you to borrow this rosary from me for now but remember to bring it back with you from Australia”. My grandmother passed away two years ago. The rosary has been on my night stand for 14 years, i never got a chance to return it to her.

Are there many Desi women in the vintage scene?

I think there have always been a number of us interested in vintage in some form of the other but the problem has always been exposure to our history and one another. With the advent of social media platforms such as instagram and facebook, we have started becoming more visible. It has become easy to find treasure troves of images, articles and videos from the bygone days showcasing our unique cultures. I know of several vintage loving Desi women that I met on autonomous Women of Colour spaces but wouldn’t have otherwise met because they are self conscious of how they look in vintage. The fact that the presentation of vintage culture and pin up culture is so euro and anglocentric makes a lot of pinups of colour, particularly darker skinned and more ethnic looking pinups feel too self conscious to put themselves out on social media. They often feel like they are “doing it wrong”. Our features and even our vintage ethnic fashion don’t readily fall into the already pre ordained and celebrated vintage or pinup look. An example of this is how coveted pale and almost snowy white skin is in the vintage community. Darker skinned Desi women are already maligned in their own communities for their complexions, and yet are indirectly made to feel unwanted and unattractive in their beloved subculture as well. It is harder for Desi pinups to gain visibility and popularity on social media because history has never placed us in a position to be thought about or considered desirable or conventionally attractive.

Do you find it difficult to be a Desi woman in the pin up industry? Do you think people are surprised that Desi women can and want to be sexy?

I remember when I raised the issue of the lack of diversity in Pinup and vintage publications in Adore Pinup Magazine last year. There was a slough of accusations thrown at myself and the magazine. I was labelled everything from a “reverse racist”, to “a toxic negative nancy”, to a “jealous and ungrateful pinup” all for that one article that discussed the need for change in the Australian vintage scene and the global pinup industry. Apparently, if you are a Desi woman, or a woman of colour, you are expected to be grateful for the one or two token pinups of colour a magazine publishes a year. God forbid you raise hell over the lack of diversity you see in the vintage scene or if you attempt to claim an autonomous online space to celebrate women like yourself. I was lucky that the editor of Adore Pinup Magazine, Brianna Blackheart, addressed the issues I discussed in the article publicly on all of Adore’s social media platforms and backed me up in my arguments. I don’t think I would have continued writing about these issues without her support so early on in my writing.

As far as creating Desi and PoC representation in vintage and pinup goes, the conservative desis in the community feel that I am too racy, too vocal and too sexual to “appropriately” represent Desi femininity while the conservative non PoC feel that I am trying to create a “racial divide” by working on projects such as Pinups of Colour that exclusively celebrates racially and ethnically diverse pinup communities. There is no winning! I feel like people want women like myself to pick a very narrow and carefully constructed box and sit in it very quietly. Every now and then a nice whitewashed hand will come in and either grab my ethnic outfits to be appropriated and if I am VERY good and quiet I will be paraded around like a ventriloquist's dummy parroting phrases that implying (non existent) diversity in the scene. I am sorry but I cannot do that. I refuse to shrink myself to make other people feel comfortable by helping to maintain a status quo and it is just as well as I find it impossible to follow guidelines in order to fit into these boxes anyway!

Staff and students of St Patrick's Teachers' Training College, Karachi, 1956. You can see that for some time during the 1950s-1970s Pakistan strongly adopted Western fashion and culture - Source - Wikimedia Commons.

How did you start wearing vintage? Have you been back since? How do you think you will be accepted there with your tattoos and your look?

I will be honest, I spent my teenage years riddled with insecurity and self doubt because I was one of the few ethnic Desi girls in my predominantly white high school. I stuck out like a sore thumb and at a time where there was a growing mistrust of people from Muslim countries, I was either isolated by my peers or ostracised by them. Vintage clothing gave me a way to feel comfortable with a body that at times felt like a battlefield. As a new migrant whose parents didn’t have much of an income, op-shopping was equal parts necessity and thrill! Much like vintage fashion, tattoos have helped me embrace my body. I wouldn’t say all my tattoos have stories behind them but a vast majority of them were inspired by moments in my life where I felt something move me to my core. I view my body as a passport and see each tattoo as a little stamp for moments in my journey, from my darkest moments to the happier ones.

Tattooing in the Indian subcontinent is not unheard of but it isn’t as common as it is in Australia. This is partly due to conservative culture in countries with little separation between church and state. Tribal facial tattoos were common among the early pagan Pashtuns, however, my ethnic group gave up these customs upon the advent of Arab Islam in the 12th century. While some tribal women in Pakistan’s far north still practise stick and poke facial tattooing, a manual method involving charcoal pigment being inserted into the skin using hand fashioned bone needles, tattooing as a Pashtun art form is almost non existent these days. When our tattooing history is brought up in conversations nowadays, our people refer to that period in our history as the “dark ages” and dismiss the practise as uncivilised. As I haven’t visited Pakistan since starting my body modification journey, I really don’t know how people would react to my body art or style of dressing. I suppose it would be no different to how tattooed ladies got treated in the 20s and 30s in America or Australia!

What is the one thing you want people to know about you?

I am one of those people who is passionate about social justice issues, particularly issues pertaining to the representation and rights of people of colour. Sometimes this passion is severely misread as spiteful. I am angry. Of course! How can you not be angry in this day and age when women, especially women of colour, receive the short end of the stick? My anger derives from hurt, from isolation and from the yearning to have my identity recognised as valid. It is frustrating to be denied representation in the subcultures I love. It is disappointing to be overlooked on the basis of appearance. It is heartbreaking to be denied a space in my own ethnic and cultural group because I defy convention. I am angry but I am not doing it to be spiteful. I am doing it because nice women seldom make history. There are some people who have the luxury to stand by idly and watch the world plummet into darkness. I do not have this luxury. It’s not in my nature nor is it in my favour to do so. Besides, I would much rather be a cactus than a wallflower any day.

#norafinds #around the world with vintage #atwwv #interview #series #blog #pakistan #pakistani #australian #australia #pin up #midcentury mermaid #laila shalimar

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