#30 years of rock & roll

[disco-cola]

POV: summer on sunset strip in 80s / early 90s l.a. 🍒🎸💥

[jarofalicesgrunge]

Alice in Chains photographed at The Aragon Ballroom in Chicago, Illinois on October 31, 1993.

📸 by Gene Ambo

[bruce-slutsteen]

Patti Scialfa and Bruce Springsteen in Norway on July 2, 2023.

Photos by Dag Johansen

[epaily]

attrociously late theme change again sorry. im gonna keep this one for all of april i think bc it was so late. eric carr <333 i really should plan out themes for like a year in advance because i almost NEVER have an icon ready to go which is far and above the hardest part

[mrs-weasley-reid]

SUIT JACKET

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader ↳ part 2 here

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner seems to love his suit jacket on you. WARNING: nothing besides a few curses (I think) A/N: not my gif, ctto! This was also sitting on my drafts for almost a year and barely proofread, so I apologize for the errors.

Sunday, March 11, 2:04 AM

"Thanks, unibrow." You grinned drunkenly, smiling at your boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner, as you collapsed in the cab's backseat. His suit jacket kept you cozy and covered like a cocoon while you comfortably giggled at the applied inside joke of his new nickname.

With Penelope's constant peer pressure, your inhibition has reached rock bottom eleven shots, five cocktails, and two whiskey glasses ago. You downed liquor like water, easing your stiff shoulders.

Aaron only stared at you with the same impassive face he had and shut the door before the cold caught you. He hunched in front of the driver's window, "This woman is a federal agent, and if something happens to her, I'll hunt you down. Please, drive her home safely." He straightened back up, casually tapping the vehicle's roof.

The cab took you away only after Aaron snapped a picture of the cab's plate number. He sighed as the vehicle slowly disappeared from his line of sight. He twisted on the balls of his feet, met by his other children, agents drunkenly calling his name.

Tuesday, March 27, 10:14 AM

You scurried out of the elevator, weaving through the sea of agents in the bullpen and then to the conference room where everybody was already settled in.

"So sorry! There was this son of a b—" You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, clenching your fists. Then, you exhaled profoundly with a calm smile at the end. "I got in a car accident. Go on, Pen. Sorry for interrupting." You took a seat between Aaron and JJ.

JJ turned to you, "Are you okay?" Her hand gently landed on one of yours, giving you a worried squeeze.

You gathered a smile and raised a thumb, "Thick skull and strong bones. Nothing can break me, not even this unsub... whoa—" Your eyes widened a bit.

How ironic for your case to be about an unsub who performed a craniotomy on the victims. You smiled awkwardly, the similar tight-lipped smile that Spencer would always plaster on his face.

The other agents coughed a chuckle at your reaction while Penelope continued the debrief with the same horrified look.

Upon listening to the case details, you slowly felt colder, subtly rubbing the sides of your shoulders. You were so caught up in your anger towards the guy that rear-ended you you could've sworn your body was overheating. You left your blazer somewhere and were sure it wasn't in your wrecked car.

"Alright, wheels up in 30," Aaron announced, sending everyone to get out of their seats and grab their go bags and snapping you off your trance in the process.

You rushed to collect your file copy and headed for the door but halted when Aaron called you. You pivoted on your heels, "Yes?"

He was taking off his jacket, handing it to you as soon as it peeled off his body.

"I don't think dry cleaning your suit is part of my job description, Sir." You kidded as you stared at his black jacket.

Aaron rolled his eyes. It was so rare that you had to blink twice to ensure you didn't have a concussion from your minor car accident. "You're cold." He wasn't asking, plainly stating your slight predicament.

Your eyebrows knitted, mouth slightly opened. And as if the universe was mocking you, a sudden draft slapped you in a shiver. You snatched his jacket and mumbled a small thank you.

As you walked out of the conference room, teasing eyes bore holes into your being. Each BAU team member's narrowed brows held you captive, and their loud thoughts rang in your ears. You ignored all of it, though, taming your anxiety with the warmth of Aaron's jacket.

Wednesday, April 13, 1:37 PM

"Garcia, look for old cases with one young boy as a survivor." Aaron started, listing each task that everyone was to complete.

You were so focused on the case that your next movement caught you off guard.

Your back snapped straight from the slap of Minnesota air. It was brief. An officer merely opened and closed the door, but your body was nowhere near as warm as it was a few seconds ago.

The warmth of cotton fabric soon hugged your shoulders, along with the momentary weight of Aaron's hands, before he fully let go of his suit jacket.

He continued talking as if what he had just done was normal or anything close to casualty, "Morgan and Reid, try speaking with the victim's family one more time."

Emily exchanged looks with JJ, conversing silently while you obliviously sipped your coffee.

Friday, May 2, 5:04PM

"Capital O-M-G!" Penelope squealed, drumming on your shoulders as soon as she came close.

"Garcia, breathe," JJ gently placed her hands on Penelope's shoulders, modeling a regular breathing pattern.

Emily gave you a look as she sipped her coffee, which you returned with a shrug. Penelope was ever so eccentric. You've gotten used to it over the years you've been with the team.

"Okay, okay, okay. I'm good. Just that— I was— Ugh! Look!" Penelope shoved her phone in your face.

You saw a blinding blur, forcing out a sarcastic, "Wow! I can definitely see."

Luckily, JJ took it to herself to pull Penelope's phone away from messing up your eyesight and looked at the image plastered on the screen. A smirk immediately covered her lips, "Oh."

"What is it? Let me see—" Emily walked behind JJ. Her jaw dropped not long after. "Anything you want to tell us?" She cooed as she gave you the widest grin she had ever flashed, at least for that morning.

Your eyebrows clashed, and your forehead creased, "Whatever are you on about?"

"You're telling us nothing's happening between you and a guy?" Emily's grin only widened. You wondered how wide it could get, terrifying you in the process.

JJ flipped the phone to your end. The brightness of the screen stung your eyes a bit. "Want to explain this?"

Photo: It looked like the picture was cropped because you saw Derek's arm around you, but he was nowhere to be found in the image. Aaron's jacket was around your shoulders while he was behind you, glaring at Derek's arm.

"What about it?" The confusion was solid in your voice. However, you had a bit of an idea of what the three of them were insinuating.

Penelope stepped closer to you, "Uhuh, sure," she started as she zoomed in on the picture. "You're telling me you can't see Hotch's jacket on your shoulders, let alone Hotch glaring at my chocolate thunder?"

"He let me borrow his jacket because I was cold. Doesn't he always do that with everyone?" You innocently asked, looking at each one of them.

"Still doesn't explain him glaring at Derek." Emily chimed in a teasing tone, wiggling her eyebrows.

Your eyes widened, "You think Hotch was mad at me because I took it? He offered it to me, and I was cold. You think he was just being polite or?"

Penelope rolled her eyes and aimed her fluffy pen at you, "You oblivious profiler! He's jealous!"

"Uh-no," You chuckled.

"You don't believe me? Look at this."

Photo: This photo was older than the first one and might've been your third or fourth year with the BAU team. It seemed like all of you had just ended a case. You were snuggled on the couch on the jet. Aaron was draping his jacket over you.

"Who took that picture?" You queried.

Penelope raised her hand, "I was going to check in on everyone, then the camera spotted it, and I took a screenshot because I couldn't help myself. I was going to tease you about it but forgot for a very, very, very, very long time until I saw that picture from our last team night out." She wiggled her eyebrows, a playful smile on her lips.

"Looks like our boss has a favorite," JJ sang softly, looking at you with a knowing smile.

Emily nudged you, noticing the blush on your face. "You've gotta admit that's very sweet of Hotch. I think he likes you wearing his jacket." She teased, poking your sides.

"He does that to everyone, though," You reasoned. If you recall, he had offered his jacket to many people before.

"Nope, no!" Penelope shook her head vigorously with a tight lip. "He offers it to some but gives it to you."

"We had a case where it was biting cold outside. Hotch offered to help me if I needed a jacket. I said no because of politeness and shit, but he didn't insist. He didn't even offer his jacket. He offered to give me time to return to my room and grab my jacket." Emily grimaced, obviously still holding a grudge regarding the incident.

"I've known Hotch for years. Giving out his jacket was only for emergencies. If it's the only choice he had. We've had cases where a victim was a little too exposed, and his solution was to wrap them with the newspaper he conveniently found." JJ exclaimed, sorting the manila folders on her chest.

You gave it some thought and considered every possibility, but you shook your head. "He's just being nice because he's my boss. Plus, I'm still a bit tense around the team." You straightened yourself, fixing your top.

Emily cackled, "Getting flat-out drunk with us is definitely you still a bit tense around us."

"You know what I mean," You defended, blushing.

The three exchanged looks and shrugged. If you wanted to turn a blind eye, then it was your choice. But they had a perfect theory and tried to test it out.

Aaron was heading to the elevator as you exited the bullpen. The three of them grinned.

"Going for girls night?" Aaron quipped, raising his eyebrows.

JJ frowned, "We were, but she's feeling sick. I think the cold's getting to her." She gave you a pitiful hug.

Your eyes blew wide, jerking your head behind you where the other two stood with maniac grins. You knew what JJ was doing. It didn't take a second for you to figure it out. And as if luck was on their side, the elevator dinged.

You followed their figures as they piled in in the lift. You glared at them, but Emily focused on the man beside you.

You gazed at Aaron and were met with his jacket stretched out to you. Your mouth fell open, unable to breathe.

"It's cold outside this time of night. You'll feel worse if you don't layer up." Aaron cleared his throat, "Take it."

You reached for his jacket so slowly that he took it in himself to wrap it around your shoulders. "Thank you," Your voice quivered, hesitantly stepping inside the elevator.

He followed, standing beside you. You could feel the three devils behind you, preparing yourself for their constant teasing.

Unbeknownst to any of you, Aaron was holding his breath in the hopes that none of you would notice his blushing ears.

Monday, May 16, 8:12PM

The entire day has been a drag. Besides the unsub being disgustingly great at hiding his tracks in the safety of your local area, your stomach had been giving you the worst time of your life.

Later in the evening, in Aaron's orders, everyone was sent home to get some rest and start fresh the next day.

You were thankful. You needed to rest from all the stomach-emptying vomit you did in the restroom. Your acid reflux was having a field day and didn't let you get a breath. You practically lived in the toilet. You even had to call Derek and ask him to put you on speaker so you could contribute to finding the unsub. Luckily, they didn't question it.

Emily retracted away as she exited your hug, "Are you sure you don't want me to give you a ride home? We practically live in this building. I don't think they'd mind you leaving your car here for a night."

A warm smile brightened your drained face, "Yes, I'm sure. Thanks for the offer." You bid her one last goodbye before heading to your own car.

Your head was down as the day's exhaustion finally caught up. Your senses were off. You walked as if time stopped. You wondered if you should've taken advantage of Emily's offer.

With your loud thoughts and vulnerable senses, a heart attack almost killed you when a sudden cage of warmth engulfed your body. For a moment, your body wanted to fight, but it didn't take long for you to remember the familiarity of this warmth.

"What took you so long?" His voice was gentle and comforting enough to put you to sleep immediately.

You looked up at Aaron, who refused to unwrap his arms around you, "I didn't know you were waiting. I thought you went home already. Isn't Jack waiting for you? It's movie night."

Aaron smiled, "I'm taking you to the hospital to get checked. Captain Jack's orders."

You couldn't help but smile as well. He held the door for the passenger seat before jumping to the driver's seat. As you watched him go around, you noticed his scent lingered on your shoulders.

Aaron placed his jacket on yours.

"You ought to be careful," A chuckle passed your lips, "The gals are onto you."

"Why?" Aaron looked at you with a confused expression. His face made you giggle. The genuineness of his expression made you wonder his reaction if you had said the same thing two years ago.

A grin glistened on your face, "They say Agent Hotchner has a crush on me." Your voice danced with playfulness.

Aaron copied your grin and shrugged, "I'm surprised they haven't figured it out after all these years." He turned his body to face you, "So? Do you like him back?"

If only the BAU team knew how their unit chief, the SSA Aaron Hotchner, was a lot friskier than they perceived him to be, Aaron wouldn't last a day from all the teasing.

Then you wondered how the BAU team would react if they found out you and Aaron have been dating for the past two years and successfully kept it a secret from everyone except Strauss and Rossi.

Or the number of questions you'd be bombarded with when they learn that you recently moved in together with Aaron and Jack. You knew well enough that the ladies would be interrogating you like a serial killer.

You shrugged, "I heard he's got a fiancée." You fished the necklace well hidden under your shirt. A golden ring band shaped like vines with an oval-cut blue moon diamond dangled on the chain.

"Yeah..." Aaron held your hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it, "You wouldn't want to be in the way of that." He smiled widely, an ever-loving expression you indulged yourself with for the past two years and soon... for a lifetime.

[emmyrosee]

You’ve been sneaking into Kenma’s room for years.

It started when you were very young, having left your gameboy at Kenma’s house after a few rounds of Mario. You managed to toss a few rocks at his window, and once he silently unlocked the door and let you in, you quickly scurried back out hours later with a grateful smile.

Then, you started to sneak through his window. Seeing the flashes of lights at god knows what hours was something you knew meant he was awake, and you’d climb out from your sheets and crossed the street to his place. Again, you’d throw rocks at his window, and when he’d tried to go open the door, he hadn’t expected you scale up the large tree just a few feet away.

Tonight was no different; he’s tapping away wildly on his console while you scurry up the tree in your slippers, smooshing your face against the glass when he finally sees you and opens the window.

You’d finally tumbled in, and he gave you a tired sigh, “you’re annoying.”

“And you’re still playing. I wanted to watch you play.”

“You could’ve just texted me. You left marks on my glass.”

“I needed the exercise. What time do you need me out of here?”

“Kuroo drags me by the ankle out of here by 06:30. Be out beforehand.”

You smirk and nudge his shoulder with yours, causing him to send you a glare before sitting back down on the floor. “Sleep on the bed, help yourself to pajamas.”

“You like him, kenma,” you tease. You see him tense up before he shakes his head.

“No,” he says simply. “I don’t. Not like that anyways.”

“Just not used to you having other friends besides me,” you hum. He huffs in annoyance.

“Are you gonna watch, or do I have to kick you out of my room?”

“Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll behave. Only because I hate climbing your tree.”

Kenma doesn’t like Kuroo. Honest! He thinks he’s cute, sure, gets why the girls like him and boys follow him around, he’s fine enough on a scale of emotional and physical attraction.

But Kuroo’s not the one Kenma’s eyes stay focused on. It’s you.

You’re funny, he likes the way you eat foods that you don’t like first, before diving into the favorites after to savor them. You’re cute, and you’re bad at the differences between contexts of words, and you have a little eye twitch that bestows you in a moment of quick thoughtfulness.

You don’t ask him why he’s up so late, you ask him the answers to homework and give him gummy worms as a thank you. You never overstay a welcome, always either leaving before the sun comes up, or staying quiet while you sleep on the bed.

He likes the way your eyes shine when you’re excited, the roll of your eyes when he tells you “no” when you want the answer to be “yes”, the little snickers that slip out at Kuroo’s expense at Kenma’s quick thinking.

“Kenma?”

“Im busy.”

“I want to cuddle.”

The way you want physical touch when you’re tired.

Yeah. As your best friend, he really is bias to that one.

With a groan, he pauses and saves his game under slot 3, shuts down the console before crawling up and into his bed next to you, the cold sheets shooting his nerves until they warm under your shared warmth. You bury your nose in his collar and he takes out his phone for you both to watch tiktok.

“Kenma?”

“Go to sleep.”

“When you marry Kuroo, can I be the ring bearer?”

“If i marry Kuroo, I want you far, far from my ceremony.”

He practically hears you pout, “you’re no fun.”

“I sure am not.”

For someone who has no fun, not one fun bone in his body, he’s amazed at how comfortable you are in his grip and he in yours, fingers fisting his nightshirt until his own eyes grow heavy.

And if Kuroo walked in just a few hours later at 06:30, only to see his best friend cuddling with someone he loves most, he didn’t say anything and closed the door softly behind him.

[suckerforblondeathletes]

Cuddles and kisses - Alexia Putellas

Alexia Putellas x Fem!Reader

Summary: Never in a million years did you think you would be sitting here, arguing with a 30 year old, sick woman to take a bath, but here you are.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up but no actual throw up.

Authors Note: Kind of short but enjoy!

Alexia is not the type of person to want attention or pitty over anything, usually.

If she is injured, she doesn't want anyone to talk about it or give her gifts. She would just prefer to stay in bed with you, with no one else there. Just you to care for her.

And its not just injuries that has her like that, when she is sick its 10 times worse.

She is grumpy, clingy, and emotional and only wants YOU to take care of her. Which leads to this morning, being woke up by a groaning blonde next to you.

"Alexia what the hell are you doing." You groan next to her, still half asleep. Your almost half asleep again until she slaps your chest, jolting you awake.

"What?!?" You sit up and look at her. She groans and rocks back and forth holding her stomach, which makes it click in your head and it makes you sigh.

"Are you about to throw up?" You say with fear, not wanting your expensive bedding to be covered in throw up.

"No, ew." She says and goes back to groaning.

You sigh and press your hand to her forehead, feeling a slight fever. You think for a moment and help her get up.

“Where are we going?” She asks, still groaning in pain. Part of you wants to laugh at the dramatic act she is putting on, but you don’t.

“You’re burning up babe, we need to get you in the bath so we can lower that.” You say, getting up and walking to the bathroom and running a cold bath.

You are getting a towel out of the cabinet when you feel hands snake around your waist, and blonde hair in the corner of your eye on your shoulder.

You smooth her hands with your thumb before walking over to the bath.

“Alexia I need you to get in love.” You say, the blonde half asleep on your shoulder now.

You roll your eyes and turn around in her hold. She open her eyes when you go to take off her clothes.

“I don’t want to have sex right now.” She says, swatting your hands away. You furrow your brows and give her a confused look.

“No ale I’m getting you ready for the bath, not having sex with you.” Alexia nods in agreement before taking her clothes off and sliding in.

“No it’s too cold.” She groans and goes to step out.

“I know but you need to lower your temperature. Get back in” never in a million years did you think you would be here, arguing with a 30 year old women about taking a bath. But here you are.

“Can you get in with me?” She asks as she slides down in the water in defeat. You shake you head, making her groan and roll eyes dramatically.

“No I need to go make soup. Just wash up and relax.” You press a kiss to her forehead and leave the room.

You could hear her complaints from the kitchen, each one making you shake your head and laugh.

Not even 20 minutes later you feel hands snake around your waist again.

"Alexia babe go sit down, I need to finish this." You hear a groan behind you, she protests but goes and lays down on the couch with a huff.

You put the soup in a bowl and bring it over to the blonde, who is taking up almost the whole couch and has a big pout on her face, eyebrows furrowed, and lip jutted out.

"Here is the soup." You try to hand her the soup but she doesn't take it, instead crosses her arms over her chest and pouts again.

"Whats wrong Ale." You huff and indulge in her acts.

"You didn't join me in the bath." She says quietly, making you understand why she is acting the way she is.

You and Alexia have always showered and bathed together, always. And when one of you would shower alone, neither would be happy.

"Im sorry, but I had to make you soup love. I Can hold you while you eat?" You request, she stops pouting slightly and sits up, giving you room behind her so you can slide in.

"Fine." You get behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, and the other going behind her head like a pillow and her back pressing against your front.

You smooth hair from the side of her face while she eats and watches the show she put on earlier, and your press a kiss on her temple.

Even if she was grumpy and clingy while being sick, you wouldn't have it any other way.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Dusty Springfield - Son of a Preacher Man 1968

"Son of a Preacher Man" is a song written and composed by American songwriters John Hurley and Ronnie Wilkins and recorded by British singer Dusty Springfield in September 1968 for her fifth studio album Dusty in Memphis. The single, released in late 1968, became an international hit, reaching number 9 in the UK singles chart and number 10 on Billboard's Hot 100 in January 1969. "Son of a Preacher Man" was Springfield's last Top 30 hit until 1987, when her collaboration with UK synthpop duo the Pet Shop Boys yielded the huge hit "What Have I Done to Deserve This?". "Son of a Preacher Man" found a new audience when it was included on the soundtrack of Quentin Tarantino's 1994 film Pulp Fiction; a re-release of the single reached number one in Iceland in 1995.

In 1968, songwriters John Hurley and Ronnie Wilkins wrote the song with Aretha Franklin in mind, according to a 2009 interview with Wilkins. Atlantic Records producer and co-owner Jerry Wexler, who was recording Dusty Springfield's album in Memphis at the time, liked the song and suggested it to Springfield for the Dusty in Memphis album. The song was recorded in 1969 by Franklin for her This Girl's in Love with You album. Franklin's older sister Erma Franklin also recorded the song and included it on her 1969 album Soul Sister.

Rolling Stone magazine placed Dusty Springfield's recording at number 77 among "The 100 Best Singles of the Last 25 Years" in 1987. The song was placed at number 43 among the "Greatest Singles of All Time" by New Musical Express in 2002, and in 2004, the song was on the Rolling Stone list of "The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time". Samples from "Son of a Preacher Man" were used on Cypress Hill's "Hits from the Bong" on their album Black Sunday. The song is also featured in the 2016 video game Mafia III.

In 1966, Springfield topped popularity polls, including Melody Maker's "Best International Vocalist", and was the first UK singer to top the New Musical Express readers' poll for best female singer. She has been inducted into the National Rhythm & Blues Hall of Fame, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and the UK Music Hall of Fame. Multiple critics and polls have lauded Springfield as one of the greatest female singers in popular music. In 2020, the album Dusty in Memphis was selected by the Library of Congress for preservation in the National Recording Registry for being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant". In its official press release, the library stated that despite its modest sales when first released, "over time, Dusty in Memphis grew in stature to become widely recognized as an important album by a woman in the rock era."

"Son of a Preacher Man" received a total of 85,4% yes votes!

[nanivinsmoke]

All Of Me

♪ take all of me, i just wanna be the girl you like—the kind of girl you like ♪

logan ‘wolverine’ howlett x fem!reader

tags: features your favorite merc with a mouth, takes place in deadpool three, age gap, flirting, mutual sex, rough sex, couch sex, creampies, mentions of drinking (don’t worry everything is consensual) sorry i don’t have much tags….

notes: listen to the song for added vibes ! |bottom of page|

“So? How does this look?” You turn to look at your friend and neighbor, Wade, as he modeled his off his brand new black wig. You took a long look at it, it was a stiff and a little dry; however it was different compared to the brown one he was rocking a week ago before his mission.

“Preferred the brown Justin Bieber one you had before. Now Wade, can we please have a game night? Pretty please!” You begged while the loud mouthed merc went silent and took off the new wig he brought before putting his red and black mask over his head.

“Game nights are such a hassle, Blind Al sucks at charades. Why do you want a game night so—oh” He paused and you swear you could hear him smirk behind his mask.

“You wanna do the hanky panky with old man logan, huh?” His eyes scrunched and he in your face, causing you to look away.

“Hide the zucchini with the Wolvie? Play naked twister? Prison role play? Recreating Busty—“

“Okay we get it!” You rolled your eyes and pushed his face away, heart practically beating out of your chest at the mere mention of your friend’s hot new roommate.

After the timeline altering mission, which you learned over chimichangas at Wade’s, you’ve had the pleasure of meeting the sexiest man to ever exist. Logan, was everything and then some. From his beautiful hazel eyes, to his voice down to his mutant powers; everything about him had you creaming your panties and Wade knew it too.

“Please, just one game night! That’s all i want, please Wade!” You begged once more, grabbing his wrist—making him turn to you. “What’s in it for me? Do i get a peek at the goodies too? Hm? Do I get to pop your cherry? Tongue Punch your fartbox? Eiffel—“

“A date and alone time with Vanessa” You cut him off before he could go on with anymore innuendos.

“See you tonight! Should i wear this one tonight?” Wade pulled out another wig, pulling it over his mask. It was ginger curly wig.

“Fuck no, Carrot Top” You snatched his wig off, making the merc pout.

It was a little bit after seven, the perfect time for you to show up at Wade’s place. You helped Wade send out invitations for the game night, which was at 6:30 pm. You decided to show up a little late, to make a grand entrance even though you lived right across the hall.

As soon as you got home, you immediately went to your closet picking out your best outfit, one that made your ass look so round and plump in it, before having the longest shower session ever known. After putting the last touches to your ‘i-wanna-fuck-a-twohundred-year-old-man’ outfit, you grabbed the pan of your famous monster nachos, and headed across the hall.

After you knocked twice on the door, it swung open revealing your mouthy neighbor; whom scowled behind his mask. “Well, look who decided to show up! I shouldn’t even let you in, Vanessa’s not even here!” He crossed his arms over his chest and got in your face, upset that you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain.

“Who’s not here?” Vanessa popped up behind you, her curly raven hair flowing as she moved, shocking your neighbor and making him back up from your space. You wore a smug look on your face as you walked into his apartment, pushing the pan of nachos into his hands and taking a look around his place; searching for Logan.

Wade, who had now taken off his mask and was eyeing Vanessa as she got comfortable, started to dig into your pan of nachos; until he see your face in his peripheral vision.

“Looking for Logan sugar bear? Wolvie went to go take Mary for a walk and to get us some beers—“

“And some coke!” Blind Al cut in, emerging from the kitchen; making you smile. “No, not this time Althea.” Deadpool responded, now standing next to you while the two of you watched the little old man lady make her way into the living room—cursing up a storm.

Turning his attention back to you, Wade stuck his fingers into your yummy pan of nachos and stuffed him down his mouth, “He’ll be back soon. Although he is over a hundred years old; so it might take grandpa a while to get back.” You pouted and grabbed some chips from the pan before stomping over to the living room and sitting on the black leather couch.

It felt like an hour had passed and Logan hadn’t showed up yet. You were trying your best to not seem sad, occupying your mind by talking with Yukio and Vanessa; earning some stares from Wade. You weren’t letting him speak to her, not until he showed up.

Almost like he heard you, the man of the hour finally walked through the door, holding a pack of beer and almost empty bottle of whiskey; followed by Mary Poppins skippering into the room.

“Look! He’s back! Everyone he’s back, with the beer! Hey Vanessa….” Wade announced to everyone before going to talk with Vanessa, but really it was for you. You shot your eyes up and caught his, giving him a soft smile before he quickly turned away and headed to the kitchen to put the beers down.

You hesitated on following after him, until you saw Wade motion for you to go after him. You excused yourself and walked into the small space, seeing the tall male place the beers into the fridge—you reached over and grabbed on, catching him by surprise.

The smell of his cologne piercing your nostrils and you tried your best to ignore the small throbbing you felt below. “Thanks for the beer.” You wanted to bite your tongue off after those words left your mouth. That’s all you had to say to him? Thank him for the beers?

Before you could leave, the deep voice behind you called out to you, “You’re the one that lives across the hall, right? You made those delicate shrimp tacos?” You nodded your head, a smile plastered on your face while taking a swig of the rich flavored beer.

“You think they were delicious?” You asked, already knowing his answer—however you were really excited that he knew who you were. He nodded and reached over to take a swig of your beer before responding.

“I had to sneak one because Wade wouldn’t let anyone have one, but god those were good.” You smiled and pulled another beer out of the fridge as he finished the rest off the first one you shared.

As it became later into the night, the two of you stayed in the kitchen getting know each other better. He decided to pull out the hard stuff, so instead of finishing off the pack of beer—the two of you decided to split his whiskey. The more the two of you talked, the more you fell for him.

“Who’s ready for some Strip Poker! I’ll go first!” Wade’s perky voice announced, making the two of you freeze and share a look with each other; faces contorting in disgust.

“I’d rather claw my eyes out then to see that. Let’s get out of here. What do ya say, princess?” He asked you, standing up and holding out his hand. You smiled and got up as well, bringing the whiskey with you. Walking out the kitchen and into the living room hand in hand, the two of headed to the door—surprising a half dressed Wade.

“Where do you two think you’re going?”

“To fuck off.” You responded, sticking a middle finger up at your neighbor before waving at Yukio and Vanessa; leaving the party and going to your apartment—getting away from Wade’s antics.

Sitting on your plush living room couch, the two of you continued with your conversation from earlier, the bottle of whiskey flowing freely between the two of you.

The older man couldn’t help but to take in your beautiful features, the way your eyes twinkled when he said something about his past, the way your beautiful plump lips curved up when he talked about a good memory he had—it had him losing his mind. He had found you attractive, he always did, but he was too afraid to act on his attraction. Too afraid for what could possibly happen….

“How are you still single?” You blurted out, the effects of the strong alcohol messing with your cognitive functions. He shifted in his spot and moved his eyes from yours, making you immediately regret asking.

“I’m not a good guy. I hurt people, every move i make….someone ends up getting hurt.” There was some silence before his eyes returned to yours and you couldn’t help the next words that left your mouth. You scooted closer to him and grabbed him by the chin, making him look at you, “What if I like being hurt?”

His eyes widened and he searched yours, processing what you just said before he gave into temptation; kissing you with such passion. He easily dominated you, gripping the back of your head—tugging onto your hair, making you moan out; which gave him the opportunity to pull away and look at you.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, princess.”

“I’m a big girl, Logan. I can take a little pain~” He wasted no time on smashing his lips against yours again, pulling you into his lap while his hands roamed your small back, before falling down to your ass. He squeezed both cheeks through your denim jeans, rubbing and pinching the fat—causing you to moan out his name. He was beyond hard hearing your sweet voice call out to him and you could feel it pressing right into your cunt.

You rolled your hips, creating some stimulation for you—another sexy moan leaving your mouth. He gripped the sides of jean’s hard, ripping them apart and causing you to gasp. “Can’t wait much longer. Sorry, princess,” His voice was gruff, panty wetting; turning you on even more. You reached underneath and fumbled with his belt buckle, finally unclasping it and unzipping his pants—pulling his navy blue briefs down; making his hard cock spring free.

You salivated at the sight. His deep brown happy trail lead right down to his glistening, angry, pinkish cock—jumping from the cool air. You let out a glob of spit, catching it once it hit his precum coated head—jerking him off. He closed his eyes and groaned, the sensation making his body grow hot. And when you pulled your panties to the side and let his tip slide against your slick lips; those tired looking eyes shot open.

“You ready for that, hm?” He asked, his bushy brown eyebrow raising as he watched you tease yourself; a soft gasp leaving your lips. With a head nod, you pushed him into your sodden entrance, gasping and gripping his broad shoulder; as he stretched you to fit his cock. Logan watched with low lidded eyes, in a deep lust filled trance as you took control, hands glued to your side.

“Fuck, princess….take all of it like a good girl…” He praised, sending a smack to your plump ass. You took him as deep as you could, however it wasn’t all of him…you couldn’t take it all. Your hips slowly moved on its on, grinding and bouncing—getting used to how much was inside of you.

Soon that bubble of pain popped and turned into pleasure, and your pace increased. Your hips were no longer bucking, instead you were practically jumping on his dick—the sound of skin meeting one another’s created a loud lewd noise; music to your ears—drowning out what was playing across the hall.

Logan couldn’t believe it, he was in pure bliss, he finally had you and was going to enjoy this very moment. He was scared, he didn’t want to bring his past into the new world—especially with you here.

Almost like you read his thoughts, you pulled him by his chin and made him look at you, “you don’t need to protect me…..I can take it—shit…just fuck me daddy.”

Hearing those words fueled him and he gripped your hips tightly, before pushing you further down onto his cock; making you take all of him. You gasped loudly, however you weren’t able to process it because he was forcing you up and down on his dick—stretching your gummy walls with each stroke.

He loved the sexy noises that left your pretty little mouth along with the squelching and small queefing that your cunt released with each powerful thrust. “That’s it baby…ride daddy’s dick. Fuck—you’re so tight!” You smashed your lips on his, a sweaty sloppy kiss between the both of you as the tightness in your stomach was brewing.

“G’na cum…fuck daddy! Can I cum? Please please please….” You begged, hands on his clothed chest—gripping his navy blue flannel shirt. The older man grunt and smirked, holding your hips while you continued to bounce.

“Go ahead and cream on daddy’s dick, princess.”

That’s all you needed to finally release that tight ball in your stomach, releasing your essence all over his thick shaft. He was right behind you as well, with a few more pumps, his thick milky white load pooled out in thick white ropes—filling you up.

The two of you stayed like that, peppering kissing on each other’s lips, a small smirk on his face. He was in bliss—no, he was in love. The hard ass Wolverine had finally opened his heart. He wasn’t about to make another universe hate him, he’ll damn sure try hard to not mess it up.

Sneaking away from his third round of strip poker, Wade crept into the hallway and picked the lock to your apartment door. Before entering he let out a little school girl giggle, before continuing to tip toe into your apartment—holding back his gasp at the sight bestowed before him.

A sweaty, shirtless Wolverine balls deep inside of you, giving you hard deep strokes as you laid on the couch taking all of him.

“The two of you need a third?” Their head whipped towards the door in sync, their faces of pleasure changing to anger.

“Fuck Off Wade!” He scurried back out the door, dodging the pillow being thrown at him. He took a deep breath before looking at the readers

“Welp! That’s all folks!”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Nothing But Net (And Love)

Pairing: KK Arnold x Reader

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

POV: First-person

Word Count: 1,400+

Summary: kk is a menace even during the most loving day of the year..

If there’s one thing I know about KK Arnold, it’s that she’s competitive.

It doesn’t matter if it’s basketball, video games, or even something as small as rock-paper-scissors—she always plays to win.

That’s why, when February rolled around and all our teammates started talking about their Valentine’s Day plans, I wasn’t surprised when KK took it as a personal challenge to come up with the best way to ask me to be hers.

The only problem?

We’d been dating for almost six months.

She didn’t need to ask.

But this was KK we were talking about. She wanted to do it her way.

I should’ve known something was up when she texted me after practice.

KK: Meet me at the gym in 30. Wear something comfy.

Me: …Should I be worried?

KK: Nah, just be ready to lose.

I sighed, already shaking my head.

When I showed up at the gym, KK was already there, spinning a basketball on her finger with a cocky grin.

“Knew you’d come,” she teased, tossing the ball between her hands.

I crossed my arms. “I debated ignoring your text.”

She gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “You’d ignore me? On Valentine’s Day?”

I rolled my eyes. “What are we doing, KK?”

She smirked. “A little competition.”

I groaned. “Why am I not surprised?”

She dribbled the ball, looking way too smug. “Here’s the deal: One-on-one. First to seven. If I win, you have to be my Valentine.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And if I win?”

She paused, then scratched her head. “Uh… You still have to be my Valentine. But I’ll let you pick the movie for our date.”

I laughed. “So either way, I’m your Valentine?”

She grinned. “Obviously.”

Shaking my head, I grabbed the ball from her. “Fine. But don’t cry when I win.”

The game started off way too easy.

KK let me get a couple of shots in, probably trying to make me overconfident. I wasn’t stupid—I knew she was just waiting to flip the switch.

And sure enough, the second I got my third point, she locked in.

Her defense got tighter, her movements quicker, and suddenly, I was struggling to get a clean shot.

Within minutes, she had tied it up, 4-4.

I huffed, resting my hands on my knees. “Okay, you’re taking this way too seriously.”

She smirked, bouncing the ball. “Nah, I just really want you to be my Valentine.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

She winked. “And you love it.”

By the time the score hit 6-6, we were both sweaty and out of breath.

KK held the ball, dribbling slowly as she looked me up and down. “Final shot. You ready?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Go ahead, Arnold. Let’s see what you got.”

She grinned, then suddenly took off towards the basket.

I moved to block her, but at the last second, she spun away, smoothly laying the ball up and watching it fall through the net.

Game.

KK threw her arms up in victory. “Let’s gooo!”

I sighed, shaking my head as she jogged over to me, still grinning.

“So, does this mean I won?” she asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

I crossed my arms, pretending to think. “I guess…”

She gasped. “Guess? Nah, you gotta say it.”

I sighed dramatically. “Fine. You win, KK. I’m your Valentine.”

She beamed, stepping closer. “Say it again.”

I laughed. “KK—”

“Say it again.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart was already melting. “I’m your Valentine, KK.”

Her smile softened, and she reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Good. ‘Cause you’ve been mine since day one.”

I felt my face heat up, but before I could say anything, she grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together.

“Come on,” she said, leading me toward the gym exit. “I got dinner reservations for us.”

I blinked in surprise. “Wait, what?”

She shrugged, looking smug. “Told you I had to win. I had a whole night planned.”

I laughed, squeezing her hand. “You’re something else, KK.”

She leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. “And you love it.”

Yeah. I really, really did.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[pokemonblack3white3]

some pla warden/noble headcanons

I'd love to draw these but I don't think I have the time nor spoons for that so I'll bestow these ideas onto you all via bulletted lists instead

Obsidian Fieldlands

Nobles can live much longer than ordinary pokemon. Wyrdeer is 60 and Kleavor is 340 years old.

Mai is 30 and Lian is 11.

Lian's mother was the previous warden, and while Lian was always lined up to take her place, it was not expected to happen so soon. One day while travelling between the Fieldlands and the Pearl Clan's settlement, she disappeared without a trace.

Mai was very friendly with Lian's mother despite the clan rivalries, and did her best to help ease Lian into his position.

When Lian's clothes get too dirty or torn, Mai usually mends them herself. Lian often steals Mai's clothes and ruins them, much to her annoyance.

Kleavor has known Lian since he was a baby. He is incredibly territorial over both his wardens and domains, and is still furious over the disappearance of his previous warden.

Despite how aggressive Kleavor can get, he and Wyrdeer are actually on fine terms. The main issue lies with Wyrdeer's fear of bug-types, so they respectfully avoid each other.

Mai often has to clear bug-types out of Wyrdeer's way, and her munchlax has become surprisingly strong due to this.

Lian loves to talk to anybody who will listen about his rocks, so Mai, Wyrdeer, and Kleavor have become somewhat of experts on the subject.

Kleavor has no qualms with Mai but an incredible amount of qualms with her munchlax. Mai does like Wyrdeer and steers clear of Grandtree Arena.

Crimson Mirelands

Lilligant is 500 and Ursaluna is 20.

Calaba is 99 and Arezu is 23.

Calaba has outlived 2 nobles. The first was already elderly when Calaba became a warden, and the second was sickly since its birth, resulting in a shorter life. Calaba began practicing medicine to care for it.

Calaba was witness to days when there were bloody conflicts between the clans, and it resulted in her distrust of the Diamond Clan.

Arezu suffers a lot from imposter syndrome. Her attempt to try and quell Lilligant on her own was not her first instance of sneaking around the clans, as she usually tries to solve things on her own instead of asking for help. This was not helped by the fact that Calaba was incredibly nit-picky about everything Arezu did, and made sure Adaman knew about all her complaints.

They began to get along better after Lilligant was quelled, but it took a long time for Arezu to stop feeling like a cornered prey animal around Calaba.

While Calaba prefers for her hair not to be touched, she and Arezu will often spend hours cleaning and combing the knots out of Ursaluna's fur. Ursaluna loves rolling around in the muck.

Ursaluna is a giant teddy bear. He's quite sad that his intimidating appearance tends to scare people when he runs at them in excitement.

Since Calaba is too old to play as much as Ursaluna would like to, Ursaluna's most frequent playmate is Lilligant. Lilligant was quite close with the previous Lord Ursaluna, and delights in doting on her son.

On rainy days, Lilligant will usually set down her roots and remain still to preserve her energy, but on the rare sunny days, she delights in dancing under the sun. She often coerces Arezu into joining her, even though Arezu is an awful dancer.

While Arezu was recovering on sunny days, after Lilligant was done dancing she would sit next to Calaba and sunbathe until Ursaluna inevitably got bored demanded to play.

Ursaluna loves playing with Arezu, but she finds him a little intense and hates getting dirty.

Cobalt Coastlands

Arcanine is 2 and Basculegion is over 1,000 years old. There have only ever been 3 basculegion nobles.

Palina is 27 and Iscan is 31.

After the previous Lord Arcanine's death, Iscan often visited his grave and brought Palina and her growlithes food he'd made. He was by far the kindest and most patient with Palina during that period.

Iscan has a collection of pearls, sea glass, and other nick-nacks Palina has given him. Her favorite things to gift him are treasures that match the color of his eyes.

Iscan has had his own problems with being considered unfit for his job, due to his fear of ghost-types.

Basculegion is the only ghost-type Iscan can stand. When Iscan gets anxious, Basculegion is the best at calming him down.

Arcanine takes his duties very seriously. He tends to get a bit snappish with the more relaxed Basulegion, who will often playfully splash Arcanine when he gets too close to the shore.

Palina can still bring out the inner puppy in Arcanine.

Arcanine is incredibly fond of Iscan, both for how he helped him and Palina following his father's death and because Iscan gives the best pets (and treats!).

Basculegion and Palina also get along quite well and enjoy diving together.

The four of them often spend time together as a group, having picnics on the beach of Firespit Island.

Coronet Highlands

Electrode is 70 and Sneasler is 170.

Ingo is 38 and Melli is 19.

Melli was a bit of a nobody until Electrode chose him as his warden. It's why he takes so much pride in his job.

Electrode was one of the weaker of the previous lord's children, a runt of the litter. It was entirely unexpected for him to become the next lord. Electrode chose Melli because he recognized himself in Melli.

Occasionally, the clan that serves a noble switches. Before Ingo, Sneasler's warden was from the Diamond Clan. When her old warden died, she refused to choose a new one and began to get aggressive with members of the Diamond Clan when they tried to force her to do so. Choosing Ingo as her warden was entirely an act of spite, but she grew to truly care for him.

Even though she is happy with her new warden, Sneasler is still very bitter towards the Diamond Clan. She especially despises Melli.

Electrode likes Ingo just fine, but Sneasler also dislikes Elecrtrode for his affiliation with the Diamond Clan and doesn't like for Ingo to hang around him or his warden. Electrode is also a bit mishevious and that clashes terribly with Sneasler's tendency to hold grudges.

When they first met, Ingo had a habit of subconsciously treating Melli like he would Emmet. Melli is an only child and found it incredibly unnerving. Ingo has since reigned it in, but it tends to pop out again on occasion.

Besides the torches, Melli has sabotaged other efforts Ingo has made to make traversing the Highlands safer. The day a fence Ingo put up saved Melli from falling off a cliff was the most vindicating moment of Ingo's life.

Alabastor Icelands

Braviary is 120 and Avalugg is the hero's original companion.

Gaeric is 42 and Sabi is 7.

Braviary's previous warden was from the Pearl Clan and a close friend of Gaeric's. Sabi received a vision of his death and when nobody would believe her, travelled all the way to the Icelands on her own instead an attempt to save him. She arrived in time to watch him die. A lot of the Pearl Clan resent Sabi for this and for Braviary choosing her as his next warden.

Gaeric ended up doing a lot of Sabi's training, since the next closest warden was Melli who was rather young himself- and generally ill-suited for the job of a teacher.

Gaeric and Braviary's previous warden were both trained by the same person. Their mentor tempered Gaeric's impatience by making him spend days climbing Avalugg and cleaning him as well as removing any unwanted pests. Gaeric used this method of training on both Irida and Sabi, and the girls have bonded over their hatred of it.

Sabi learned to braid her hair from Gaeric.

Braviary used to be very distant with his wardens, instead going off on his own to stop problems before they even began, but he is inseperable from Sabi. He now spends much less time scouring the Icelands for danger and instead passes the days playing with Sabi. He is incredibly paranoid something will happen to her, as well.

Braviary was friends with Gaeric even before Sabi became her warden, and their shared grief brought them closer.

Avalugg spends most of his time sleeping and usually only moves if something important is happening (such as receiving a new warden) or something truly dangerous has occurred that Braviary alone cannot handle, though such a thing that has not happened in the current Lord Braviary's lifetime.

Avalugg is still alive in modern times, the people of Sinnoh having unknowingly built Snowpoint City on his back. He hibernates until the region needs him again.

[rocknrollflames]

Okay. I've got a lot of crap to do today, but I had to stop for this, lol.

If you wouldn't 'smash' Juju Izzy - then you're not grown. You're a little girl (or boy) who doesn't like men yet. Hot, fine, sexy, aged, masculine, tasty, talented, refined, perfectly ripened, seasoned-to-perfection men.

And that is more than fine with me. Cause there are far too many of us who do. 😉

ju ju hounds Izzy stradlin

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

SPACE BETWEEN

uncle!leon kennedy x fem!reader

warnings: uncle-niece incest, 18+. content below the cut, vomit (non-sexual capacity), age gap (early-mid 30s to late teens-early 20s). fingering, oral (f! receiving, piv, creampie… Leon’s kind of a simp and lame tbh. ddlg undertones, just a little. heaps of praise :3

i got inspired by uncle from nicole dollanganger tbh.

“I want to marry my Uncle Leon!” you said when you were seven, smiling up at him with two front teeth missing, chubby baby arms wrapped around his thigh.

Half-uncle, really, but that’s semantics. It’s like someone saying the sky is blue and another person saying it’s turquoise. They’re both right, one’s just really fucking annoying about it.

He also thought you’d say you wanted to marry your dad, because that’s pretty common with kids. Most girl’s dads or brothers are their first loves, so he was pleasantly surprised at the honor of being your chosen husband.

Unfortunately, you’re also seven, and that’s very illegal.

Your dad chuckles and doesn’t bother to try and peel you off. He tried that once and you went back to sticking to him like sweat, so he didn’t bother after that.

“Do you have a wife, Uncle Leon?” You ask him, smiling up at him so sweetly. You got those dimples from your mom, and he’ll never admit it, but they melt his heart just a little.

“No, sweetheart.” He reaches down and ruffles your hair. “I’m all yours for the taking.”

You beam up at him, even as he messes up your hair. “Good! ‘Cause you’re all mine!”

Your dad snorts, promptly looking innocent when Leon glares at him halfheartedly.

“That’s right.” Leon lugs you up into his arms, kissing your temple and giving you the faintest smile. “I’m all yours.”

He sees you a little less and less as the years wear on. He’s busy and you’re busy and grow from a sweet kid to a petulant preteen to an awkward teenager.

He’s still the first one you call, though, when you’re sixteen and drunk at a house party you shouldn’t be at. You’re swaying a little as he pulls up to the curb.

Leon leans over and opens the door for you—you toddle over and slam his door shut with a soft apology. “I didn’t wanna be there anymore.” You say, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, sweetheart.” He reaches over and rubs your shoulder. “I’m glad that you called me instead of your dad.”

“Thanks.” You’re a little tacky with sweat and smell like a brewery and some sickly sweet floral perfume when you lean over to put your head on his shoulder. Baby’s first grown-up perfume instead of the body spray they sell at bath and body works. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’m still glad it was me.” Leon reiterates, kissing the top of your head. “C’mon, sweet girl, let’s get you home. Seatbelt on.”

You pull away reluctantly, buckling in your seatbelt with clumsy hands. “I know, I know. I got the riot act from my doctor when I got the physical done for the permit. Seatbelts yes, swerving no.” You grumble, pushing a sparkly hand through your hair.

He snorts, starting the car and pulling away from the curb. “Is that everything?”

“She said she’d pull my license if she caught me.” You reply, propping a temple on your fist. “‘Cause she’s a doctor and a mandatory performer—reporter. Mandatory reporter.”

Leon can’t help a quiet chuckle, even when you swat at him. “You got there in the end.”

The quiet roll of the car rocks you right to sleep, and he sneaks glances at you as he moves around pot holes and takes speed bumps slowly to avoid jostling you awake and fucking up his suspension. Cute, your nose still twitches like a bunny’s when you sleep. He thinks you got that from your mom too.

He gently wakes you up when he’s stopped in front of your house, reaching over and unbuckling your seatbelt before petting your head. “Gotta wake up, sweetheart, come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

You groan behind a closed mouth, face scrunching up. “No…”

He almost laughs. “Come on, I’ll help you up and out.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and jogs over to your side when he’s out of the car, opening the door and bodily carrying you out of the car.

The movement’s a little much and you gag, sweat breaking out on your skin.

Leon aims you away from himself just in time, rubbing your back as you puke loudly in your yard. He reaches over and holds your hair back with a grimace. “You’re alright. You’re okay. Just get it out.” He murmurs, rubbing your back once you stop retching.

When you straighten up, he wipes your mouth and his hand on his jeans. “You’ll feel a bit better in the morning.” Leon tells you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and leading you to the front door. You fumble a little for your house keys, but get inside after he kisses your temple and wishes you a goodnight. “‘Night, Leon.”

“Night.” He repeats, gently shutting the door behind you. He goes back to his car and drives home, that sickly perfume smell lingering on the seats like you personally cropdusted them.

Vanilla, white florals, he thinks he smells coffee before it lapses into a sort of acrid smell. Otherwise, perfectly inoffensive on you, perfectly inoffensive to anyone with a working nose, to be honest.

He wishes you’d wear something a little more offensive, strong, something definitively you. Florals tend to be powdery and come off as something an old lady would wear, and that’s not very sexy at all, is it?

Cherry, he thinks would fit you perfectly well. Strawberries. Maybe they make apple perfumes.

When Christmas rolls around, he does exactly that, after skulking around Ulta and eventually asking for perfume recommendations from an associate.

Leon comes back with something strawberry, something jasmine and red berries. He splurged a little bit on a gingerbread perfume, but he doesn’t mind, might as well have something festive to give you.

When it comes time to get the gang together, he tosses it all in a pretty, sparkly bag with blue tissue paper and a tag with your name on it because he’s shit at wrapping gifts.

You cling to him a little tighter with the greeting hug he gives you. Maybe you’re still grateful he didn’t snitch about the party.

Either way, Leon returns the tight hug and gives you a pointed smile as he asks, “How’ve you been?”

You, to your credit, barely flinch, though he can see in your eyes you know exactly what he’s talking about. “Been good, glad to be out of school for the next two weeks. Merry Christmas.”

He clicks his tongue, then disengages and steers you over to the living room and sits right next to you after depositing his gift for you under the Christmas tree. “Merry Christmas. Yeah, I bet. No more waking up at six in the morning for the bus at six-forty. Been staying out of trouble?” He gives you a sly look, head cocking just to the side.

Your eyes narrow at him playfully as you smile back despite yourself. “Yeah. I’ve been too busy with work to really get up to something bad.”

“Ah, that’s the way to keep it.” He slings an arm over the back of the couch, getting up after a moment to get himself a bit of eggnog, your mom’s recipe. “How much do you get?” He asks when he’s sitting down again, arm back over the couch.

And so it goes from there. You get the most of the spread of presents, being the kid and all.

Your mom and dad each got one another something and him some comfy clothes, he sorely needs them.

Whilst he was shopping for you, he ducked into some department store and got your parents some simple stuff. Soap, pajama sets and the like.

You look extremely surprised—and pleased? Leon’s heart might not take it if you hate the gifts—when you pull the perfumes out of the bag. “Whoa. How much did you spend?” You ask him immediately.

Leon scoffs, taking a sip of eggnog to hide a nervous shift. “It wasn’t much, they’re all samples.” The strawberries and cream one was like thirty-five bucks, so was the jasmine and red fruits one; he spent about fifty on the gingerbread one because he couldn’t find a smaller size than just an ounce. “Besides, I make the big bucks.”

Your mom sneaks a glance at Leon, then stealthily looks up the prices of the perfumes she can see, eyes going comically wide before she gives him a disapproving look. “Leon!”

“Yes?” He asks innocently, plastering on the most charming smile he has. Before she can start, Leon shakes his head, giving her a ‘don’t worry’ wave of his hand. “Come on, I make a hundred and twenty in a day.” More, actually, but still.

Your mom looks like she’s going to argue before your dad lays a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head with an amused look. “I’m putting a budget cap on the presents next time.” She decides after a moment.

Leon smirks, shooting you a wink. “Duly noted.” Then, he nods at you, manspreading because you’re on the floor. “What do you think?”

You pull off the caps of the perfumes and sniff them without spraying them, making faces with each sniff test. “Whoa.”

“Good?” God, he’s hoping you like them.

You nod, smelling the gingerbread one again. “Yeah. These are so cool.” Slowly, a smile spreads across your face. “Thanks, I love them.”

Relief loosens his chest a little. Leon gives you a smile. “I was hoping so.”

He stays over for dinner and maybe a little afterward, just catching up with the rest of you guys.

All too soon, it comes time to say goodbye, they hope he comes again soon to terrorize everyone with his extravagant presents.

He spends the most time hugging you goodbye.

You graduate in the spring and he makes sure to actually dress up for this occasion. Someone only ever graduates five times in their life—kindergarten, fifth grade, eighth grade, high school, college.

Leon’s wearing a suit that had a little dust on it when he dug it out of the back of his closet, the collar and tie is a little tight around his neck and he keeps fidgeting until nudged by your dad because you’re walking across that stage.

God, it’s so weird to see you all grown up.

He was one of the few to hold you after you were born before you started fussing for your mom. He babysat you a few times so your parents could go have a date night. He was over at your fucking house almost every other day because your dad wanted to hang with his half-brother.

He’s getting really old. He’s starting to reminisce the way their dad did about high school friends and the like. For fuck’s sake, he’s thirty-five, not sixty-five.

You get a picture from the photographer, grinning from ear to ear. It’s well deserved, you fucking hated high school, he remembers the complaints. Then you go sit back in your spot and wait to flip your tassel.

Finally, all the fucking pomp and circumstance is over with. Here endeth the high school.

He and your parents find you a bit afterward, all of them drag you into giant hugs before they go to the car and treat you to dinner before you get all your graduation cash with a side of birthday treats.

He got you another perfume, a sultry cherry scent.

Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ in the manger in the fucking Inn. Mary and Joseph above him. Leon might as well just go caving if he’s going to hell, getting trapped underground would be so much easier.

Leon has to put on sunglasses when he sees you in that American flag bikini the summer after you graduate, flapping his blanket out on the sand and posting his flip flops on opposite corners.

It’s a little on the nose for the holiday, but he’s more than willing to stand for the flag. He’s much more partial to kneeling, but standing works too.

He strips off his shirt and begins slathering himself in sunscreen because he’s gonna turn into a lobster in less than fifteen minutes, he’s calling it.

Your dad bets ten. Your mom bets five.

Lucky you, you got the tanning without burning genes, also from your mom. You go right in without worrying about sunscreen.

He sits there after taking off his sunglasses and spending an extraordinary amount of time trying to reach his back. Like he wants to be peeling the next time he has to go fight some BOWs.

At some point, you resurface from the water after he resigns himself to a burned back, picking up your towel and laying it around your shoulders to cushion your wet hair. “Need some help? You’re cooking.” You point vaguely at his semi-red back.

Leon stares for a second before wordlessly handing you his sunscreen and shifting so his back is to you. This is a sure fire way to avoid tempting himself.

He hears you snort when the bottle makes a funny noise, then the weird sound of your wet hands rubbing together as you warm up the sunscreen before applying it in broad sweeps around his back.

“You and dad burn so easily.” You mutter, still rubbing in the sunscreen. Your long nails graze his skin on occasion and he fights the urge to stiffen up.

“You’re lucky,” Leon says after swallowing quietly, “you got the tanning from your mom. Certainly didn’t get it from your dad.” His hands bunch up his trunks.

You snort again, rubbing away the last of the white streaks across his back before leaning back on your hands. “Or you.”

Well, he only shares about twenty-five percent of your DNA, that’s why. He learned that after an alcohol-fueled dive—and no less than five orgasms—in the incognito tab. In some places, if both parties are over the age of consent, incest is totally legal. Some can even get married.

He shifts so he’s laying down on his blanket, a soft and amused snort catching your attention. “True.” He crosses his arms behind his head, soaking up the sun now that he’s in danger of not burning to a crisp and missing the way your eyes linger just a little too long.

Turning twenty-one is a big occasion. You can get scratch offs, buy your own drinks, smoke if you damn well want to.

You, lucky girl, get two parties. One with family, one with your friends who can also drink.

Leon comes for the former that takes place the day afterward. Your parents and him didn’t wanna cramp your hot, early twenties style.

You guys go out to your choice of restaurant, then come back and have some celebratory drinks as you open your presents. Some cash, shirts, a new backpack, and some perfume, courtesy of Leon.

He went digging for the really niche ones and came back with one that smells like cat fur, cake, a bit of florals because female perfumes can never fucking escape florals. It was named for the ballet step, pas de chat. Step of the cat. He thought he’d try something out of the box.

You seem to like it, the way your face breaks into a smile. “Thanks. This is nice.” You spritz a little on your wrist and smell it, lighting up just a little bit.

Leon smiles back too, a tad softer than his usual sly smile he wears. He’s been told he has a bit of a smug face. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” He nods, raising his glass to you briefly.

He’s invited to stay over as long as he likes, or even stay in the guest bedroom if he wanted to, he’s informed by your parents as they go upstairs to bed.

Which is why he’s ruminating as he stares a hole through his glass, pondering the beer and the bubbles in it.

Leaving him defenseless to you slipping into his lap.

It takes him a second, but he gets there, eyes wide as he looks up at you.

Your perfume floats over once you sling an arm around the back of his neck, something sweet and warm that makes him want to tuck his face into your neck, your eyes remarkably clear despite the three margaritas you had. “What are you doing?” He asks after a second of just staring at you.

You give him a sly look, head cocking to the side. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Getting into trouble.” Leon’s empty hand lands on your lower back as he leans forward, setting his glass of beer on the side table, his once occupied hand landing on your thigh where your shorts rode up.

That feline smile remains on your face. “I’m rather good at that.”

He snorts, slowly rubbing your thigh. “I noticed. You’re welcome for not snitching to your parents that one time.”

You snort too, bringing him closer with the arm around his neck. “Yeah, I owe you my life.”

Leon nudges your nose with his, starting to smile slightly too. “You joke, but your mother would’ve killed you.”

“I think she knew.” You admit, shifting a little closer on his lap.

Leon’s hand slowly travels up your inner thigh, your legs parting for him just a little. He pauses, eyes flicking back up to you. “Are you sure?”

You nod, swallowing nervously. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

That’s that, then. He unbuttons your jean shorts one-handed, tugging down the zip gently, his grin widening when he sees the bit of lace visible on your waistband. “Planned this, did you?”

His eyes flick up to yours as he gently slides his hand between your underwear and shorts, gently cupping you through it, gratified when he sees you inhale sharply.

“Hoped, actually.” You admit near shamelessly, thighs spreading a little more.

“Well,” Leon can’t help feeling a little smug, slowly grinding the heel of his palm against your clit, “I hope you can be quiet.”

He dips his head down, nosing at your neck, down your collarbone and to your chest as his hand keeps slowly moving. He won’t be satisfied until there’s a wet spot.

The scent of your perfume grows a little stronger and his eyes flutter shut, his not busy hand pushing up your shirt at the back so he can rest his palm on your back.

He increases the pressure and you twitch a little, stiffening just a little. “Take this off.” Leon mumbles without lifting his head.

You tug off your shirt and he groans lowly, hiding his face back in your tits as he sucks and licks at the skin. He shifts his hand, gently dragging his fingers up before gently tapping your clit, then tucking his hand into your underwear, grinning fiendishly when there’s a puddle slicking you all the way up.

“Messy girl…” he can’t help taunting, biting down over your heart.

You whine just a little and he can literally feel all his blood rush south. It’s a surprise he didn’t faint, to be honest.

Gently, he pushes a finger in, cooing with a soft click of his tongue when you whimper. “Shh, shh, it’s ok.” He murmurs, pushing in all the way and waiting a little for you to get used to it as he messes with your clit so you stop clenching, chest heaving just a little. “You’re doing so good, sweet girl.”

Slowly, he begins pumping, making sure to graze your clit with his palm, getting himself all sticky. Maybe he’ll shake your dad’s hand with this one.

When you’re fucking yourself back, hips moving of their own accord, pretty mouth open, he adds another, curling them just until he feels that spongy spot and hitting it with precision. “There we go… that’s my girl.” Leon grins up at you, kissing your jaw as he fingers you open.

His hand is cramping just a little, but he’ll push through it for his girl.

“You’re doing so well.” He murmurs as he lays you on the couch, dragging down your bottoms as one hand slows down just a little. You whine and he clicks his tongue, pouting at you just a little before he kisses it off.

Once you’re naked, save for the bra—Leon likes the way tits look when they’re pushed out of the bra by a vigorous fucking—Leon whistles quietly, planting a kiss above your bellybutton piercing as he lays down between your open thighs. “So pretty, baby. So, so pretty.”

You have to slam a palm over your mouth when his own seals across your clit as his fingers keep moving inside you, speeding up just a little. He laughs, more vibration than sound, at least the way you feel it.

Watching you come for the first time will be seared into his mind forever. It started with the little things. Your chest was heaving, your thighs were starting to try and close around his head, your pussy starting to spasm.

Then, it happens. Your upper half snaps up, your eyes scrunching shut as you muffle what could’ve been a very incriminating noise if your hand wasn’t covering your mouth.

You sag back against the couch, chest heaving as Leon pumps his fingers and sucks you through it, leaning away and gently pulling his fingers from you when you start twitching.

“My poor baby.” He breathes, sucking his fingers clean before leaning up, hands bracketing the side of your head. “Good?”

You nod after a second. “Good.”

He gives you a soft smile, pushing some hair behind your ear. “That’s my girl.”

“I’m your girl?” You open your eyes, a little dopey smile across your face.

“‘Course, you’re my girl.” He leans down and kisses your forehead. “Always have been.”

Leon lives in fear of your parents finding out for at least a couple months. That’s what wakes him up in the night, not just memories from Raccoon City, Spain, Tall Oaks, et cetera.

God, he’d be hung by his toenails and skinned alive. Like when Willow killed Warren on Buffy, but a lot more drawn out because your dad would be in on it too.

You guys are at a vacation house the night you two first have sex.

It starts the same way him fingering you on the couch did. You slide into his lap long after everyone’s gone to sleep, he gets his fingers wet when you guys are in his room.

His room is a little further from your parents room than yours, hence the choice.

He lays you down and gets you off another time to hopefully make this painless, tangling a hand with yours. Only when you push at his head does he stop, grinning like a fat cat.

Leon doesn’t smile when he pushes in, watching you carefully for when he needs to stop and let you breathe.

Slowly, he’s seated balls deep inside you, hands on either side of your head. “Good, baby? Are you okay?” He pushes some of your hair back, relieved when you turn your head and kiss his palm.

“Good.” You reach a hand down and feel around, smiling slightly when he winces.

“Jesus, give me a moment. I’m not as young as I used to be.” Leon mutters, shifting a little so he can spread your legs a little more, hands dimpling the fat of your thigh.

You gasp quietly at the shift and nod, one hand over your tit, the same one he marked when he fingered you on the couch. “Leon…” you breathe, moving your legs to wrap around his waist.

“I know, baby, I know.” He whispers, gently shifting before drawing back and thrusting in.

Your eyes scrunch shut as you let out a soft yelp. Quickly, Leon settles his palm over your mouth, shifting so his weight is on his opposite elbow. “Hush, sweetheart. Don’t want your parents busting in, huh?”

You shake your head, face settling into a blissful expression as he starts moving, little sounds punched from you from each firm roll of his hips.

“That’s my girl.” He smiles down at you, leaning down and licking up the sweat from your neck all the way up to your earlobe, kissing it and hiding his face in your neck. “My pretty baby girl.”

Leon lifts his head up, his face hovering by the side of yours as he grins. “I got you. I got my girl.”

Ah, the praise gets to you, just a little bit. He can tell because you get a little tighter and he has to fight so this doesn’t end too early.

He’s a gentleman, he refuses to come before you.

“Can you be quiet, baby? Wanna play the quiet game?” He chuckles when you nod, removing his hand so he can play with your clit and get you just that extra bit closer.

This close, he gets to watch you pause before your upper half snaps up again, your arms wrapping around Leon as you gasp into his shoulder.

It’s your orgasm that undoes him, his hips stuttering before he fills you up, collapsing on top of you as he gasps, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as his body to yours.

To mom and dad:

I’m really sorry if I worry you both. Leon and I know you wouldn’t approve, which, for obvious reasons, makes sense.

Trust me when I say we love each other. I’ll still be studying, it’s not like he wants me to drop out.

I love you guys so much. Please don’t be mad.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Deja Vu -Oneshot

Word count: 2845

“Do you remember Y/N?”  Steve asked offhandedly one day.

Bucky scoffed. “Of course I do,” he replied.  

Steve hummed and smiled softly.  “I miss her.  She was real sweet.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed.

Y/N Y/L/N had been Bucky and Steve’s childhood friend.  She didn’t always join them on their escapades, but she was a constant in their lives.  She had been two years older than them and had taken on an older sister and at times motherly role to them, but as they got older the dynamic shifted.  She was extremely protective of them both.  Steve in a brotherly sense, and Bucky in a best friend way.  As they neared their late teen years Bucky’s feelings toward her changed from friendship to romantic, but he had never pursued her.  It just didn’t feel like the right time, he didn’t want to ruin the friendship between the three of them, and then eventually war broke out.  On his last night before he was due to ship out, he had gotten home from dancing and found Y/N on his stoop.

“Hey doll,” he greeted her, then saw her crying and frowned.  “What’s wrong?  What happened?”

She wiped her tears away and smiled sadly at him.  “I need you to promise me something that’s impossible, and I know it’s unfair of me to ask for it, but I’m going to.”

“Anything,” he said, taking her hands in his.

“Come home,” she whispered, her lips quivering as she fought back more tears.  “Come back.  And if you can’t, fight like hell trying, you hear me?”

Bucky’s eyes started to fill with tears.  Looking at his best friend, who had grown from a chubby, spunky little girl to a voluptuous, caring, fierce woman, he was overcome by the realization that this might be the last time he ever saw her.  He pulled her into a hug, holding her tight as her hands clutched at the back of his uniform.  “I promise,” he whispered.  “I’ll come home, and if I can’t, I’ll die trying.  I…I love you doll.”

“I love you, Bucky,” she said.  

They pulled apart and stared at each other for a moment, then Y/N stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.  It took him by surprise, and he barely had a moment to close his eyes and kiss her back before she pulled away.  She gave him a quick smile, then pulled out of his embrace and swiftly turned and walked down the street back to her house.  He watched her walk away, his eyes wide and his lips tingling from the kiss.  

He never saw her again after that.  For all she knew he and Steve had died in the war.  And maybe it was better that way, thinking they died rather than knowing all the pain and suffering they endured later.  But he never forgot her, even after all the brainwashing and the torture.  Bucky only wished that they had more time, one more chance to do it right. 

***

Bucky was walking along the booths of a vintage market fair, he and Steve perusing the old books, trinkets, clothes, cars, and everything that they would have seen growing up.  Steve had picked up an old toy car that looked astonishingly like one he had as a child, and Bucky was going through a stack of records.  He still enjoyed listening to older music, primarily from the 30s and 40s, but was looking for some things from the 50s and 60s to add to his growing collection.  He pulled a couple of records out, examining them, when someone held out a record in front of his face.

“Looking for some good old rock and roll?” 

Bucky nearly choked as his head whipped around and looked at the woman next to him.  Her voice sounded familiar, and when he looked at her his eyes bulged and his mouth fell open.  The same colored hair, though styled more modernly, the same face, the same voluptuous body, the same kind smile.  It couldn’t be.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice coming out in a reverent hush.

She frowned.  “Um…how do you know my name?”

He frowned, blinking and shaking his head, sure that he was seeing things.  “You, y-you’re…I–”

“Hey Buck, what’s this…Y/N?” Steve asked, just as surprised as Bucky, staring at her in disbelief.

“Okay, uh, this is creepy,” Y/N said, her frown deepening and taking a step back.  

“No, no no wait, I’m sorry,” Steve spoke first, putting his hands up in surrender.  “You just look like someone we used to know a long time ago.  Like…almost exactly like her.”

Her face relaxed and she sighed, rolling her eyes.  “Oh, ha, yeah I get that a lot,” she said.  “I’m named after my great grandmother, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, and I inherited her face, too.”  She looked at both of them more intently, then her eyes widened.  “Wait…oh my god, Steve Rogers?” she asked, looking star struck.  “Bucky Barnes?”

Bucky silently reveled in hearing her say his name.  “Yeah,” he breathed.  “We uh, we knew her.”

“I know!” Y/N said, smiling widely.  “She wrote about both of you in her journal!  Oh my god, this is insane,” she laughed.  “My mom is gonna die when I tell her I met you guys.  It’s so nice to meet you.”  She extended her hand and Steve shook it with a wide grin, then Bucky shook her hand, still looking at her in awe.

“I’m sorry to stare, I’m just…a bit in shock right now,” Bucky said, chuckling at himself.  “You literally are the spitting image of her.”

“Weird, isn’t it?” she asked.  “I was just reading her journal this morning.  She really loved you guys, I hope you know that.”

Steve smiled kindly and nodded, while Bucky looked down.  “She was something special,” Steve said.  “Like the big sister I never had.”

They all continued talking for a while, walking down the market together and looking at odd bits and pieces.  It was getting late and Y/N looked at her phone.

“Ugh, I gotta get going.  Dinner plans.  But it was awesome to meet you both,” she said.  “Would it be weird if I asked for a hug?”

“Not at all,” Steve laughed, then leaned down and hugged her for a moment.  When she pulled away she looked at Bucky.  He nodded and leaned down, hugging her tight.  She gave the same great hugs that her great grandmother gave, and he took a deep breath, subtly getting a whiff of her perfume that smelled just like her, too.

She seemed to let him hold her a little longer than Steve, sensing that he needed that hug.  When she started to pull away he reluctantly let her go, giving her a sad smile.  “It was great to meet you,” he said quietly.

Y/N watched him for a moment before glancing at Steve, who was pretending not to watch them.  “Could I, uh, get your number?” she asked, giving him a hopeful look.  “And maybe, you know, I could show you some old photos we have, and her journal, if you’re interested?”

Bucky’s heart soared at the offer to see her again.  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

They exchanged information, and said goodbye to each other before she walked away and Bucky turned to Steve, who was giving him a knowing look.  

“Think you’ll have a chance this time, pal?”

“Fuck off,” Bucky said, shoving Steve’s shoulder.  But inside, he secretly hoped that maybe, in a weird way, he would.

***

“Dr. Strange?” Bucky called out as he stepped into the Sanctum Sanctorum.

Dr. Strange appeared on the floor above, peering down at Bucky.  “Sergeant Barnes, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Bucky walked up the stairs and shook his hand.  “I’m sorry to just come by unannounced, but I have a question that I don’t know who else would actually know the answer to without giving me some big religious speech.”

Dr. Strange chuckled.  “Well color me intrigued.  What’s your question?”

Bucky inhaled deeply.  “Is reincarnation real?”

Dr. Strange smiled.  “Hm, that is a great question.  One that many have philosophized and agonized over for centuries.  Why do you ask?”

“Well, I knew someone back in the day that I was close with, before the war.  She died a long time ago, but two weeks ago I saw her at a vintage market.  She looks just like her, sounds just like her, acts a lot like her.  Turns out it’s her great granddaughter.  They even share the same name!” he said, rubbing his face harshly.  “I can’t…I can’t get her out of my head.  It’s driving me crazy.  How is this possible?”

Dr. Strange nodded, considering his words.  “I can’t give you a definitive yes or no answer.  What I can say is that sometimes, when a soul or the universe has unfinished business, patterns can repeat themselves to try and mend what’s been interrupted or broken.  If this girl is almost the exact embodiment of your friend from days gone by, then there must be a reason she’s here in some form again.”  Bucky nodded, then Dr. Strange shrugged.  “Or it could just be amazing genes in the family.  A crazy coincidence.”

“Could be,” Bucky mused.  “Thanks.”

***

A year later Bucky and Y/N were hanging out on a Friday night, watching a movie at her apartment.  They had gotten really close since they met at the vintage market.  He had come to her mom’s place a week after they met where she showed him her great grandmother Y/N’s photos and journals, and he learned all about what had happened after he and Steve had left.  She had eventually married a returned soldier who was an engineer, and they had three children, one of which was Y/N’s grandfather.  She had always had a soft spot for Steve and Bucky, telling stories of her time with them when they were kids to her children as the story of Captain America and the Howling Commandos became legend.

After that she had become a regular part of his life, and as much as Steve was a part of their outings, she and Bucky had become close friends and spent a lot of one-on-one time together.  Steve could tell that the feelings Bucky had been fighting when they were kids were coming back for this girl, and he kept encouraging him to do something about it, but Bucky was once again afraid.  

“I’m just saying, you’d be hard pressed to find a really good rom com nowadays,” Y/N said, turning to face him more on the sofa, their attention pulled away from the movie playing on the TV.  “Like what happened?  Bring back the yearning men!  The pining love!  The passion!”

Bucky laughed at her impassioned speech.  “I have to agree.  The ones you’ve been showing me compared to what’s out now?  Not even close.”

“Exactly!” Y/N said, clapping her hands.  “It drives me nuts!  Where’s a man like that,” she pointed at the screen as Bill Pullman leaned against Sandra Bullock, “in my life?”

Bucky’s heart ached at that statement.  He wanted to be that man for her.  “He’s right here, pretty girl,” he smirked, trying to joke about it as he gestured to himself.

Y/N giggled at him, covering her face as she blushed.  “Ugh, I know.  Just make the move, Barnes, yeesh,” she said, playing into the joke and arching an eyebrow at him.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her.  The joke was suddenly becoming too real.  They stared at each other for a long moment, then he leaned in closer, arching his eyebrow in challenge.  “Like…leaning?” he asked quietly, watching her reaction.

Her eyes widened, her eyes blinking rapidly as her gaze flicked across his face.  “That’s a good start,” she breathed.

“Yeah?” He raised his hand and cupped the side of her face, his thumb smoothing over her plump cheek.  He leaned forward just a little more, nuzzling her nose with his own and his gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips and back.  

Right as he angled his face, his lips with centimeters of hers, she inhaled sharply and pulled away.  “I’m not her, Bucky,” she said, shutting her eyes and hanging her head.

“What?” he asked, frowning at the sudden change in her demeanor.

Y/N leaned away, shrinking back into the corner of the sofa, crossing her arms over her chest and keeping her eyes shut.  “I see the way you look at me, like you can’t believe she’s back after all this time, like you have a second chance to be with her.  I may look just like her, and share her name, but I’m not my great grandmother.  I can’t…won’t replace some fantasy version of her you have in your memory.”

Bucky shook his head.  “No, Y/N, that’s not how I feel at all.”  She shook her head and held herself tighter.  “You’re right, when I first saw you I thought I was having some weird out of body experience.  I even went and talked to Dr. Strange about reincarnation.”  She smiled bitterly, opening her eyes but keeping her gaze looking away.  “But I know you’re not her.  And as much as I loved her, and cherished her friendship, she’s not you.”  Her gaze slowly moved back to him.  “In a lot of ways you’re just like her.  But she didn’t swear like a sailor and say the dirtiest innuendos while looking ridiculously innocent.”  She smiled, looking a little embarrassed but happier.  “She was fiercely protective of Steve like he was her brother, like you are, but she never put him in his place like you do.  You’re not afraid to sass him back.”  She rolled her eyes, biting back a wide smile at the thought of how many times she and Steve got into teasing fights, where she would feed off of Bucky’s jabs until Steve would glare at them both and sulk about them making fun of him.  

Bucky scooted close to her again, pulling her to face him.  “You might have her face, but she never looked at me the way you do,” he said quietly.  “She may have loved me in some way, cared about me, but I was never as close to her as I am with you.  Remember that time I called you doll, then quickly corrected?”  She lightly frowned then nodded.  “Because it felt wrong.  I used to call her, and most girls back then, doll.  But you’re not doll.  You’re Y/N.  You’re my Y/N.  My pretty girl.”  He leaned forward, nuzzling her nose again and then kissing it, her eyelids, her forehead and down both her cheeks as his hands held her under her jaw, his fingers tickling her neck and behind her ears softly.  “You’re not my second chance at her.  You’re my second chance at love in my very long, complicated mess of a life.  I want you, not her memory.  Just you.”

Y/N eyelids fluttered as he kissed near her mouth, then looked at him earnestly.  “I want you, too,” she whispered.  

He smiled softly, pressing his forehead against hers.  “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough just as you are, that I wanted some idealized version of you.”

She sighed, nuzzling his nose back.  “It’s hard when I’ve been constantly compared to her my whole life.”

Bucky moved closer, hugging her as best as he could.  “Just because you’re similar doesn’t mean you’re the same.  You are you, and I love you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened.  “Love?”

“Love,” he nodded, knowing he was saying it too early.  “Will you give me a chance to prove it, pretty girl?”

She watched him for a moment, looking him over like she was trying to make sure he meant what he was saying.  When she was satisfied her smile returned, wide and bubbly, and she giggled that soft, breathy giggle that he loved.  “Yeah,” she said, then leaned in and kissed him.

Bucky kissed her back, slowly, taking his time to feel and enjoy it.  It was definitely different from his last kiss from almost 90 years ago, but in the best way.  She was insistent, intentional, her lips pressing firmly against his, like she was taking her time to enjoy it as well.  Her hands lifted to grip his wrists near her face, and his hold on her face tightened as he angled his face to kiss her deeper, harder, more hungrily.  His chest felt like it was fizzling with his excitement, his head fuzzy as metaphorical fireworks went off in his mind.  This was better.  So much better.  Like unfinished business being settled.  

Y/N slightly pulled away, staring at his lips then glancing up at him.  “Please tell me that wasn’t like deja vu for you?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head.  “No pretty girl.  You’re one in a million.”

[nashusglasses]

2. (let me hear you say) please (m)

+ based off nsfw prompts: 25. “On all fours, right now!” + 53.  “Don’t test me.”

note: happy thirsty thursday! these prompts are from this list. if you'd like, send me two prompts and a lads man for next week :)

note 2: Caleb nation this one's for u!!!!! I saw someone edit the lads men in sweatshirts and literally lost my mind when I saw Caleb like tell me he's not the most college romance love interest EVER ToT!!!!!!!!!!! anyway i went clubbing the other week and my personal headcanon is that Caleb doesn't like going but he sees u looking pretty n sparkly under the lights and all of a sudden the loud music isn't so bad <3

PAIRING. caleb/reader GENRE. established relationship/sort of college AU? WARNINGS. recreational drug use, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving)/face sitting SUMMARY. “If I make you come in two minutes, will you do anything I tell you to do?” WORD COUNT. 1.2k

You have two tells to indicate when you’re drunk or high (or a nice mix of both). One: you don’t stop talking.

Two: you get inexorably horny.

Caleb is the (un)fortunate victim to both these whims.

All you remember is being offered whiskey neat, Tara slipping moon rocks into your palm, garish neon lights in your periphery as you danced to the music. Bodies on sweaty bodies on gyrating bodies. Caleb stuck to your back the entire time, and he’d done his due diligence in ordering a ride back home when the clock hit 1:30 and you couldn’t stop whisper-yapping into his ear about how good he looked in black. 

You high-tail it to your bedroom once you make it past the front door. Caleb barely slips your heels off your feet when you plop onto the bed, shimmy your skirt and panties off and wail dramatically:

“Oh my god. I think I’m gonna die if you don’t put your mouth on me.”

“I won’t let you die. Does your head hurt if you lie down like that?”

“A little.”

“Get on all fours.” You take ten seconds to process the fact that he’s actually indulging you, and another five to realize you haven’t followed his instructions yet. You think there’s cotton in all corners of your brain. “Now,” he says, half-exasperated. 

He has to grab your hips and haul you over because he knows it’ll be another 500 years for you to process everything. You barely stick the landing. You settle on your elbows, wiggling your butt in what you hope is a tantalizing motion. 

“Like what you see–ow! Did you just bite me?”

“No,” he lies. You twitch from the feel of his teeth on your asscheek. “Probably a ghost.”

You immediately conjure up a blurry image of hot ghost anal. You’re both very intrigued and slightly disgusted. “That sounds hot.”

Caleb snorts. You feel the bed dip underneath you, warm breath on your mound. You’re about to ask what he’s up to when two hands grab your hips down to lick where you’re embarrassingly wet.

Your tongue is a brick behind your teeth. “Oh god–”

“Let me hear you.” You both know you have it in you to be louder. But your head fogs over into stillness so calm all you can do is roll your hips downwards to show he’s got you feeling good. Caleb takes the bait easily. He sucks on your clit till your brain finally connects to the muscles in your jaw and you mewl, clawing at the sheets. “‘Atta girl.”

He slaps your ass as a reward. You squeal with the sting. “Ugh. Do that again.”

“You’re so needy.” He slaps it again regardless, and you hum in satisfaction. “If I make you come in two minutes, will you do anything I tell you to do?”

You laugh. You’re most definitely coming in less time than that, and the kiss he leaves on your cunt nearly tips you too far. “Depends on what you’re asking for.”

Caleb feigns contemplation with prolonged silence. You can’t see him but you know he’s grinning. “Washing the sheets when we’re done.”

Trust him to come up with something so pedestrian, but you know he’s got the ick for all the sparkles you’re rubbing into the bed every time you shift on your forearms. “Oh my god you’re such a loser.”

“Hey.” He licks at you in punishment, wet tongue for even wetter pleasure. “Don’t test me. Maybe I’ll just leave you here.”

“No–!” 

When he makes the move to slide away, you steel your knees and drop down. Exactly where Caleb wants you, because he grips your ass and eats you out in such spectacular fashion you’re two flicks away from sobbing. “You’re so easy,” he taunts. You’d bite back with a snarky response, but your brain lags reality to four frames per second.

“Mm,” is all you say. You’re always greedy with his mouth. You know he gets off to your desperation. “You just do it so well.”

“Do what?”

He draws a lazy pattern with a taut tongue, warmth unfurling from your gut down to your toes.  “That,” you moan, “just like that.”

You burn with every kiss he leaves on your aching clit. Caleb lets you settle into the muted noise inside your head, laser-focused on the way he tastes you like you’re his favourite flavour of the night. Your thighs are starting to tingle into jelly.

He lets up with a deep breath. “You’re so hot like this,” he groans, and your eyes roll back when he shoves his tongue as deep as he can go.  

“Fuck. Close–!”

You’re almost tempted to beg for his fingers, but he obeys your command with so much fervour you nearly pass out. He seizes the meat of your thighs, skin smarting where his nails catch to bring you in deeper. You choke on your next inhale. “Caleb–ngh–!”

You tense from the promise of an explosion, rock a slow rhythm into his face and you feel him groan. “Ride my face harder,” he calls. A dangerous feeling in your core flickers at the command.

It starts on your knees. Settling your weight back and forth till Caleb takes the lead, adjusting every stroke with a pliant jaw until he can hear you keening from the back of your throat. Your head is hazy with each heavy movement. “Feels…”

“Nn?” (He purrs. The sound rips straight through you.)

“Feels so good,” you whine. “God you’re gonna make me come.”

Your shoulders are starting to ache. But the pain fizzles into a swelling ache where Caleb guzzles on your most sensitive spots, and you revel in the nasty sound of him slurping up on your slick. “Oh don’t stop–yes–!”

Every single cell in your body splits into a frenzy for an orgasm Caleb coaxes out so easily, and you shriek through wave after wave of literal bliss. 

Your thighs are shaking. You’re vibrating down to your fingernails. You realize you’re probably smothering Caleb’s nose but you can’t stop grinding down into his mouth. “Oh my god,” you heave through the come down, burying your face in your hands. “Caleb–ngh–fuck, please–”

He leaves one last kiss on your clit. “You’re so sensitive tonight.”

He’s not wrong. You swear you can feel every single thread on this bedsheet. But your mind is still garbled with post-orgasm euphoria and all you can mumble is: “I don’t want to do the laundry.”

Caleb slips out from underneath you, helping you flop onto your back before sitting on the edge of the bed. He strokes a gentle rhythm on your cheek. You want to say something about his boner. You also want to tell him he’s the bestest boyfriend ever and that his cologne smells so, so yummy and that you want to merge existences till your souls are irrevocably intertwined with one another.

“You should at least take your makeup off,” he sighs. “You’re just gonna complain in the morning about how dirty you feel. Wait. Are you crying?”

You sniff away the sudden wave of tears. “You’re the literal god of giving head.”

Caleb shakes with laughter, then pulls at your dead arms. “I’m glad you think so. Come on, get up.”

“But you’re still hard.”

“Don’t mind that. I need you in the bathroom. Think you can wash your face without me?”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you mumble, completely ignoring him. You sit upright, fall into his chest, and pass out immediately.

.

.

.

(When you wake up in the morning, the sheets are changed and your eyelashes are mascara-free. You start to cry again.)

[ivystoryweaver]

He's Okay

"My dad never defended me. Not once."

Summary: No one ever defended Marc. He doesn't want the same happen to his only son. Word Count: 1.3k

Content: overprotective!Marc, angst, discussions of Marc's past/abuse, mild violence, Marc trying his best, mention of food, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

From the time your son first scooted across the hardwood floor, Marc has existed on high alert during the day and stood constant vigil each night.

Eyes and ears ever aware of the video baby monitor, he would drop anything at a moment's notice if your child uttered so much as a restless sigh or grumpy gurgle.

The first time your baby fussed all night had Marc pacing the floor, one hand tearing through his curls while the other scrolled one baby website after another, attempting to decipher the cause. This came after an hour of holding and rocking the baby himself.

"I think it's just gas - he's okay," you attempted to soothe both your boys, taking your turn walking your little man.

It was. It passed, like every crisis before it.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

When your son began to really crawl, Marc baby-proofed your home three times over. In fact, you had trouble opening the kitchen cabinets now.

The first time your toddler tripped and smacked his chin on the hard floor, Marc was ready to roll up to the emergency room.

"He's okay, just a bump," you tried to convince him.

Marc didn't put his little boy down for the rest of the night, rocking him, icing his chin, giving him snacks, playing "Pat-a-cake" and generally spoiling him rotten. He gave your sweet angel a bath and put him to bed with all his favorite stuffies and his blankie.

"Daddy loves you so much," he soothingly whispered. "I won't let anything hurt you."

Watching discreetly from the doorway, your heart melted.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

When your kiddo started school, you both walked him the few blocks over, each of you holding one hand as his backpack (which practically swallowed his little body whole) flopped rhythmically on the back of his legs.

"Now, remember - you only have to stay until 1:30 - one-three-zero," Marc reminded him, tapping on his digital Spider-Man watch. "Then we'll walk you back and?"

"Go get ice cream sundaes!" Your five-year-old cheered.

Kneeling down, Marc took his son by the shoulders. "You don't have to be afraid. You're gonna be awesome."

"I'm not afraid, Daddy," he proudly beamed, blinking innocently while cocking his head curiously. "Are you afraid?"

Swallowing thickly, Marc locked eyes with you briefly. "I'm proud of you is what I am."

You thought Marc might climb the walls, waiting on your kiddo to get out of that first day of school. Yes, you both took the day off just to be available for this momentous occasion.

"He's okay," you promised, wrapping your arms around him. "He's been waiting for this day to come - you know he has."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

When your son was twelve, he came home with a black eye and a split lip, attempting to duck into his room before his dad could see...

Ever vigilant, Marc's entire body went rigid before a shuddering tremble urged him forward.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded, his voice stern - eyes flashing with anger.

Seeing his son shrink away stopped him cold.

"S-sorry. I'm sorry," He stammered, kneeling down in front of him. "What happened to you? Who hurt you?"

Your son had gotten into a fight with another kid during lunch. So there was no one for Marc to unload his rage on.

That night, after your boy fell asleep, you saw Marc sink down on the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Carefully kneeling in front of him, you reached for his hands, caressing his fingers with your own before tenderly kissing each knuckle. Standing up on your knees, you wedged yourself between his thighs, but he turned his head away.

Marc wasn't going to hear you right now. So you gave him a little space, fixed him a drink and took a long shower before checking in again. You found him staring out the bedroom window, gazing up at the moon.

Easing behind him, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of his back. He covered your hands with his own, releasing a heavy sigh.

"When I saw his black eye..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"I know," you softly returned.

Drawing a trembling breath, he pushed his fingers through yours, resting there on his soft abdomen.

"I had so many..." Unable to finish his thought for several long moments, he simply soaked in your love and your touch, steadily drawing breaths in and out to remain calm. "Most of mine were...hidden, under my clothes, but..."

Chomping on your bottom lip, you held back the tears pricking your eyes.

"My dad never defended me. Not once," he whispered. "Not one time."

"Oh baby," you gasped, easing around to hug him for real.

Marc accepted your love - your healing, steady tenderness, folding you close.

"He could have, you know. But he didn't." His voice had faded to a broken whisper.

You understood the entire basis of Marc's parenting philosophy.

"I shouldn't have let him..." he carefully admitted, wincing as he waited on your response, but he couldn't help himself: angry red and brutal blue were colors too familiar. "I can't let him get hurt."

You didn't judge him. He should have known.

"That makes you a damn good father," you said with conviction, turning your gaze up to his.

“When I had Khonshu’s armor, it healed my body, so you can’t see…not anymore.” Sniffing, he shook his head sadly. “Do you think those little cuts on his face will scar?”

“They’re scrapes, they’ll be fine,” you assured him. “The doctor even said so.”

Marc was beginning to realize he couldn’t protect his only son from everything.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

During your son's teenage years, Marc’s (over)protectiveness put some distance between the two of them. Your son was the last kid his age allowed to go online, or go on a date, or get a driver’s license.

But every time he would get angry, Marc would try to extend an olive branch. He would take all his friends to the movies, or simply order a pizza and watch baseball together.

And one day it dawned on him that not one adult ever asked him what he wanted. Or needed. So he asked.

“I just want to feel like you trust me,” your son admitted.

Marc took him to get his license the next week.

Then came the car accident. Because, of course Marc’s only child would be involved in an accident. Marc was expecting it - practically waiting for it.

Thankfully everyone was okay, but the car was totaled.

When you and Marc saw your boy at the scene, you fully expected fireworks, but he charged toward his son, arms open.

“Dad, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry about your car, please don’t be mad.”

And then you witnessed the exact moment Marc far surpassed his own father (as if he hadn't spent you son's whole life doing so).

Taking the boy's face in his hands, he gently smiled. Marc Spector actually smiled in the middle of a life-threatening situation.

“It’s only a car. There are millions of cars.” He touched his forehead to your son's. “There’s only one you. And you’re okay. You’re okay.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Sometimes there were failures or broken hearts. Things Marc couldn't punch or fix or threaten. In fact, a life free from Khonshu's service left him with no one who really needed defending.

Years later, your son dropped by for a visit. The three of you decided to take a walk through the old neighborhood, to his favorite ice cream shop from when he was little. Nostalgia mingled with sugar for a bittersweet concoction that opened your hearts for sharing.

As you ambled back toward home, Marc noticed his son walking beside you protectively, closer to the street. He had opened the door for you, he took your hand as you crossed a puddle and even shielded your body briefly as a stupid teenager breezed by too fast on a motorbike.

It was like looking at a younger version of himself, but he was…softer somehow. Stable. He was a man now. And he was okay.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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