#Apologies for BB's filthy mouth

[abbyslev]

𝑺𝑵𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫- 𝑺𝑨𝑺𝑯𝑨 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑼𝑺 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

A/N: i haven’t written in two weeks… MY APOLOGIES i’m working on hange stuff but school is #horrible and i will cry✌🏼 BUT anyway i felt like writing for my bb sasha… also tumblr fix your fucking app before i go feral. enjoy!

WC: 822

WARNINGS: none, just lots of fluff. lightly proofread, feedback is appreciated <3

“Out.” You point at the door, jumping up from your bed. “This place is filthy.”

Levi picked up your dirty uniform, placing it in your basket. “I don’t care, it’s not your room. Give me shit about it later, out!” You eye the clock on your wall. It was almost 10. “When will you clean this?” He pointed to your muddy gear.

“Can you leave?” You put your hand on your hip. “What’s the rush?” He raised a brow, arms crossed. You grip his long sleeve shirt, trying to push him out of the room. “Get…argh…out!” You place your head against his chest, legs working to push him out.

“Fine. I want this cleaned by tomorrow night, or you’ll get stable duty. Alone.” He turned around. You mock him, slamming your door. You turn around, smiling. The door hit the back of your head. “Ow! What the fuck!” You turn around, rubbing your head. “Go to bed early. You have early training with Hange.” Levi shut the door.

“Yeah, yeah.” You switch your lock on, rushing to your window. You let the cold air in, shoving all your clothes into your closet and bringing out extra blankets. You turned on your oil lamp, and pulled some snacks you stole from Levi out of your drawers.

“Hey!” A hushed whisper came from your window. You peek out, seeing Sasha with a basket full of food, waving. You reach down, grabbing the basket, placing it on your dresser. Then, you reach down, grabbing both of her arms, pulling her up. She slid through your window, stumbling to her feet.

You grabbed her waist, trying not to laugh. She placed her hands on your hips, pulling you in for a kiss. Her lips met yours, before you pulled back, frowning. “What?” Sasha’s brows furrowed. “You got crumbs on me.” You wipe your mouth. “Eh, it makes you taste better.” She licked your bottom lip. “Gross.” You smile, pushing her off.

“Is he in bed?” “He doesn’t sleep, but yeah he should be in bed.” You nod. “Psh. Okay! What are we doing tonight?” She took a bite out of her chocolate bread. “Well, I found this.” You reach under your bed, pulling out your box of books. You pull out a black book, holding it up. “Recipes...” She grabbed it, eyes squinting. “Yeah, I stole it from the kitchen. I was thinking we could try and make some?” You smile, crawling into the bed with Sasha.

“Ahh!” She pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Oh! Before I forget,” You reach under your pillow, taking out a small, cloth bag. “I got a lot of this from Hange. She was a whole stash but I wanted to try it with you.” You open the bag, taking out the candy.

“No way.” Sasha sniffed if. “Dark chocolate.” She moaned, placing the sugary delight in her mouth. You did the same, leaning your head against her shoulder at the taste. Sasha ate another piece, opening the book.

You take the basket from your table, placing it between you and Sasha. Sasha picks up a bread, taking a bite before handing it to you. She opens the book, pupils widening at the glory before her. “Cheese…cake?” She starts reading the ingredients. “Is it real cheese?” You lay against your head board, eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t know, I think it might be.” You lean the bread towards her side. She takes a bite, brushing the crumbs off of the page. “Oh, it’s like milk that’s made into a sweet cream, not cheese though.” She nods. “That’s so strange. What about this one?” You point at the cheesecake with red glaze.

“This one had a strawberry glaze…it’s sweet and you can eat it cold or warm.” Sasha laid down next to you. “I saw one, it had meat.” You took the book, searching through the photos. “How’d they even get these strange things?” You pointed at the pictures. “Maybe they had someone draw it.” She shrugged.

The two of you flipped through the pages for what seemed like hours. The oil lamp burned out and the sun started to rise. The basket of snacks had now been empty and the book ended up on the floor, faced down.

Levi knocked, jiggling the door knob. He sighed, unlocking it quietly. “Hey, get-” He stopped himself, looking at your bed. You were in a ball, blankets all around you. Behind you was Sasha, arm draped around your waist, face buried between the crook of your neck and shoulder, breathing deeply. Your hands were interlocked together, legs tangled together under all those blankets.

He noticed the window was open, the basket that once held stolen bread, and that all of your dirty clothes were gone. He held back a smile, sighing. He closed the door behind him, leaning his body against the kitchen door frame. “Bad news, Four-eyes. I think she’s sick. Maybe tomorrow?”

[navegandoaciegas]

Sunday Sinday

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader [Priest AU]

Warnings: priest!Bucky, explicit language, smut, very desecrating and blasphemous thoughts and actions, masturbation, corruption kink, sex in a public place, hair pulling. Both parties are consenting adults. 

Summary: Father James preaches at Mass, and you think there’s no better time to sin than Sundays. 

A/N: Yesterday (9/9) was my 21st birthday and I’m posting filth to celebrate it. @whateveriwant​ and I share one horny braincell and we had the same idea, so here it is bb. 

Wide shoulders straining his black cassock, long chestnut hair pulled back, errant strands framing his chiselled face, thick rimmed glasses perched on top of his nose, Father James should be the depiction of all that’s holy, image and likeness of God himself, and instead he’s temptation in the flesh, and all you can think about as you do the sign of the cross and sit in the back pew is how much you want to do wrong with him.

“I confess to Almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do.”

His soft voice fills the room, subtle blush on his cheeks, the memory of all your shared sins in the fleeting looks he sends your way. His impure fantasies of you on your knees, your pretty lips around his cock, you taking his virginity of the altar, fucking under the cross, in the confessional, the filthy whispers in your ears, words he never imagined would come out of his mouth, the taste of you lingering on his tongue. He never stood a chance against temptation, not if you’re the one luring him straight to Hell.   

You tune out of his sermon, merely standing, sitting, and kneeling as you see the others do: there’s the column he stood against as you sucked him off, the bench he bent you over and spanked you for the first time, the backdoor where the cleaning lady almost caught you.

“We listen to a reading from the New Testament.” he announces, clears his throat, adjusts his glasses, and opens the Holy Bible, fingers scanning over the verses he knows by heart.

There’s guilt in preaching what he doesn’t practice, but there’s also that exhilarating feeling of omnipotence that comes with being in love, that rush of adrenaline of loving in secret and doing the impossible to not get caught whilst wishing you would be.

The devoted churchgoers sitting in the front rows are too absorbed to notice you, hanging onto every word he recites, and the rest of the benches are empty, the saints and cherubs on the walls and Jesus on the cross your only witnesses as you quickly slip out of your panties and spread your legs, waiting for him to notice you, a teasing smile finding its way on your lips. 

“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we-”

He looks up from the pages, and his eyes meet you, or more likely what’s between your legs. He stutters, John or Matthew’s verses escaping his mind, “If we- we, uh, confess, we confess, yes, our sins- uh.” 

Silence. Awkward, tense silence.

The white collar around his neck is suddenly too stiff and suffocating. Father James is like a deer caught in the headlights, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his eyes flit around the room. The blush on his cheeks betrays his sinful thoughts, and he can only hope, as he gapes in front of his audience, that they won’t notice the tent in his cassock, the sweat on his forehead, his heaving chest and the light fog forming in his glasses.

Whispers arise, ‘is Father James alright?’, the good, righteous churchgoers ask among themselves, concerned about their beloved priest. 

“As I was saying.” he clears his throat after a strangled apology, his fingertips finding the verse he was reading again, “If we say we have not sinned-”

His voice is a low buzz as he resumes his sermon, tension clear in his taut muscles and dry mouth; memories of all the times he’s taken you on these wooden benches invade your minds. All the times you’ve choked him with the cross around his neck, all those he’s spent on his knees, worshipping you like a goddess.

His pure soul you’ve tarnished with yours, the filthy words that sound so right on his holy mouth, his heady taste on your tongue when you swallow him whole, your wish to ruin him.

Your walls throb, arousal pooling at your entrance and rubbing on the fabric of your skirt as you grind your core on the bench, desperate for some sort of release.

He raises the chalice. “...It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me.” 

You were never one for good decisions, especially not when your brain is as fogged as his glasses. And there’s no better day to sin than Sunday, afterall.

You slip a finger inside your glistening folds, looking at him through lidded eyes, wishing he would be fucking you against the altar instead. Father James’ eyes go wide as saucers when he catches sight of you playing with your dripping pussy under your skirt, and he chokes on his wine, sputtering and coughing. 

You close your legs and bite your lips when someone walks up to him and pats his back to help him through his fit. He glares at you, and you stifle a laugh, the scene too comical to keep quiet.

“Forgive me.” he stutters to the small crowd, worry evident in their eyes, “It went down the wrong way.” he tries to ease the tension , “We can begin the communion rite now, if I don’t choke before.” and earns himself a collective chuckle.

The walk from the back to the front of the church seems endless. Thighs rubbing together and against your folds, a light breeze from an open door blows up your skirt just slightly, but enough that if someone were to pay attention, they’d see you’re not wearing any panties. 

You’re the last of the line, and by the time you get to him, the rest of the people are kneeling, their head bowed, oblivious to the tension between their good priest and the new girl in town.

“The Body of Christ.”

It’s a whisper, soft and intimate, meant for you and only you, the blue of his eyes swallowed by darkness when you part you lips wide open and stick your tongue out, a sight he’s seen countless times before, when you’re on your knees begging him to fuck your mouth. Air stills when your tongue brushes against his trembling fingertips, a shiver running down his spine, a groan almost escaping him because of what that damn tongue is capable of. Eyes locked together as you slowly chew, his gaze following the lump of your throat as you swallow.

“Amen.”

It’s lust, it’s sin, it’s wrong but it sure feels right. 

He watches your hips sway as you walk back to your seat, knowing your pussy is bare and wet for him beneath your skirt, and he can’t wait for mass to be over soon.

-

Incense is thick in the air, and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his presence. A hand pulls your shirt and shoves you behind one of the columns to the sides where you usually wait for your sweet boy after mass. The marble is cold against your back, his hold like a vice on your flesh, and it stirs up something inside you. He’s never touched you like this, not your shy, doe eyed James, with his tentative kisses and trembling hands.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he whispers harshly, lips hovering over yours.

A gasp, you feign surprise. “Since when do you use that language? You kiss the cross with those lips?” 

“You're a bad influence.” he chuckles, “Anyone could have seen.”

“But no one did.” you retort “And that’s the fun part, baby boy.”

His fingers will leave bruises behind, you muse, as you take in the fire in his eyes and his body towering over yours. Your recklessness, your attitude, your pretty face, his lack of restraint, the way he can never resist you, his body that acts on its own, the animal instinct that snaps inside him when his hips thrust against yours and his hard cock presses on your stomach.

“You wanted to get caught, didn’t you?” 

Your tongue finds its way from his neck to the shell of his ears, leaving goosebumps behind, “Can you imagine the scandal?”

“You’re such a brat.” is his strangled response as his hips roll against you, pinning you to the wall. His breathing is ragged, his jaw clenched.

“I am a brat Father, do you think you can forgive me for that?” you purr, a hand sneaking between you and palming his aching cock through his cassock.

“I don’t know, angel.” he mumbles in your hair, a thick thigh coming between yours. “You need to repent, and then atone.”

“How can I do that, Father? I want it so, so bad.” 

Your skin is scorching hot, your head dizzy as his smell clings to you and intoxicates you. 

In a blur you find yourself spun around, the marble digging painfully in your cheeks, his hand groping your ass and kneading the flesh to the point that it hurts. A whimper escapes your mouth when he slowly grazes your things up to your aching core, and he cups your pussy with a possessive hold.

“You’re so wet, all for me?”

It’s a soft whisper, a stupid question maybe. 

“Only for you.”

He peppers your neck with small kisses, nipping your delicate skin. Your walls flutter around nothing, you’re desperate to feel him inside you, his thick cock filling you like no else’s can.

Father James is not a patient man.

His fingers swirl around your swollen clit, and you’re pretty sure there’s slick running down your thighs. The pressure in your cunt is almost painful as you wait for him to lift his cassock and free himself.

“Tell me you’re mine.” 

It’s a low vibration grunted in your ear as he strokes his length and lines himself with your entrance, his tip smearing your arousal around.

“I’m yours.”

He slams his cock inside you, and you mewl when he fully sheathes himself. He sets a low pace, taking his time to slide in and out of your, revelling in the way your walls grip him so tight. 

“More.” 

You’re not begging, you swear. You’re merely requesting. A command, really.

“You must say your penance first, sweetheart.” he taunts you, his wicked self coming out the more time he spends between your legs, and you find out you’re not so different after all. “An Act of Contrition, princess.”

You feel your pussy clench down on his cock, the coil getting tighter with each gentle stroke. Your mind is swirling, and you desperately cling onto the last rationality you’ve got left to remember your prayer. 

“My God.” you snarl when his hand pulls your hair, and you arch your back, this new position allowing his tip to reach the sweet spot inside you, “My God, I’m sorry for my- my sins” you moan, “with all my heart.”

He fastens his pace, the depravity of this all edging him closer to his release with each sweet sound you make. “Are you really?”

“Yes, yes, oh my God. I’m sorry, in choosing to do wrong and failing to do good,” you pant, tears streaming down your face, your breaths ragged, “I have sinned against you, whom I should-.” You’re sobbing, your hands clutching his shoulders for dear life, the sound of his balls slapping against your pussy so lewd as it resonates in the empty walls.

“Just like that, don’t stop, please.” you mewl, feeling the knot in your core about to unravel, your vision getting spotty around the edges.

You pull on his collar and tug him down, biting his lips, your tongue tasting his, his plush lips against yours, his hand around your neck. A harsh snap of his hips, one last look at the crying angel above you, and you come on his cock, your pussy so tight around him that he follows shortly after, his cock swelling inside you and filling you to the brim with his cum. Your limbs jerk uncontrollably, your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

His hot breath fans over your neck, strong arms holding you flush against his chest. A soft kiss on your forehead, a gentle smile on his lips, your heartbeat frantic, and not because of the orgasm that just wrecked you.

“Am I forgiven, Father?”

The rumble in his chest as he snickers warms your heart more than it should.

“You didn’t finish your prayers, princess. Looks like we’re gonna have to do this all over again.”

God, you love Sundays.

-

If you’re interested in more Father James, check this out. This one shot is part of Innocent! priest Bucky x Reader. I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you did, please leave some feedback, I love reading your comments. 

[howdoyousleep3]

I have been sleeping on your blog content, for which I apologize - but I saw that ask a bit back...what is Bucky like when he drinks bourbon? I need to know now! Also, those Daddy James pics...🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Hi Lissibug!! Pop in, pop out, stick around, come back months from now-- I’ll always love hearing from you! 

Especially when you ask me a question I was hoping someone would asssssssssssk and pick up on!! 

(also hell yeah we be thirsting over Daddy James recently omfg) 

Gimme Bourbon BB Buck. 😈 The friskiest of the Buckies! Beyond frisky. I think Bourbon Buck would be downright filthy. He’d want to almost fight, would be so touchy, the best kind of aggressive. Steve is beside himself when he witnesses Bucky drink bourbon for the first time, watches on with a grin as Bucky gets sloppier and sloppier. He probably arm wrestles a random guy at the bar they’re at, maybe drinks someone under the table in a drinking game. Maybe whoops Steve’s ass in darts (forever the steady hand and impeccable aim...). 

Bucky would turn bossy the moment they get home, might even ask to fuck Steve, would want to slip a few fingers inside of Steve before or during sex. He’d turn into a Little Daddy himself, mouth running, hands everywhere. Sucking on the underside of Steve’s jaw, his earlobe, biting on Steve’s bottom lip. He’d want to mark his Daddy up. I bet he would goad too, would taunt Daddy to get the most out of him. 

“C’mon, Rogers that all you got? I said I want it, Daddy. Gimme what I want c’mon, old man, before I have to do it myself...” 

No doubt he would be on top, would ride Steve through an orgasm or even two. I have everything planned out for my fic idea for when Bucky takes a bit lot more control but this rare Bourbon Bucky would be demanding. He’d be the one to coo, he’d be the one to tease, would be the one to frustrate his Daddy. 

He’d be the one to draw Steve’s pleasure out, would giggle when Daddy whines or growls as Bucky slows down, backs off. He’d grab onto Steve’s tits, would lock his elbows and pop his ass, would let his lip curl at that stretch because Daddy has such a fat cock and Bucky didn’t want to be thoroughly stretched out on a night like tonight. 

He’d tell Steve to keep his hands to himself, “don’t make me tie you up...”, would wink at Daddy as Steve growls and almost shreds their bedsheets. His favorite would be reversed on Daddy’s dick, “watch this pussy take what it wants from you, Daddy...”. He’d go on and on about his pretty pink, would make Steve touch his rim, would make Steve talk about what he sees.

But he’d turn around because he wants to watch Daddy as he comes. He’d squeal so loud when he came for the first time, would moan and tell Daddy he wasn’t allowed to come yet, that this wasn’t about him. He wouldn’t even need to touch himself, so wound up, would spurt and drool all over Steve’s tummy and his chest. 

(...can you tell i am channeling the new Ari album whattuppppppp) 

He’d run his fingers through his own come, would press them slowly into Daddy’s mouth, run them along Steve’s tongue. His hips would never stop pulsing, so fucking wound up, would almost drool as he watches Daddy suck on his fingers. He’d tap Daddy’s cheek, would ask Steve if he’s ready to fuck him now because baby wants to take it from behind, wants it fucked out of him. 

“Let loose, know you want to. Give it to me good.” 

Ahhhhhhh, hair pulling, bruises, squeals and shouts. Growls and more taunting and smacks to the ass, squeezes, and just when Steve feels like he’s been pushed to his Daddiest edge Bucky’s voice gets all fucking sugary sweet and sobby and so very Bucky again. 

“Daddy...! Daddy, make me come, gonna make me come. Please! Daddy...”

Steve would need to hold onto that boy when he comes again, would need to press Bucky into the mattress with his whole body and cover him fully. Even through all the Bourbon chaos and teasing and that fucking mouth, Steve praises the fuck out of his boy, mouth at his ear, feels that little body quake underneath his own. 

I can’t decide what Bourbon Bucky would like more: for Daddy to come on his face or for Daddy to fill his pussy up...

Decision, decisions...😉

Thank you for indulging me, Lissi!! So glad you did so!

[punmasterkentparson]

Sacred in the Moment

read on ao3

“I wanna kiss you everywhere,” Swoops murmurs, his lips tickling Kent’s jaw as he speaks.

“Everywhere?” Kent asks, only half-listening. They’ve been making out on his couch for twenty minutes and Swoops has both hands on Kent’s ass. Higher brain functions have been out the window for a while.

“Mm, everywhere.” Swoops punctuates this with a gentle bite.

And because Kent can’t pass up any opportunity to be a dick, he says, “Even Omaha, Nebraska?”

Swoops pulls his head up. “What.”

“Salt Lake City, Utah?” Kent continues, making his eyes wide as though scandalized. “Steak N Shake?”

“Stop.”

“Blockbuster?”

Swoops groans and pinches his ass through his jeans. It barely hurts but Kent yelps anyway. “I was being romantic, you dickweed.”

“Sorry. It was too easy.” Kent knows he’s grinning too much for a believable apology.

“You’re such a pain,” Swoops grumbles fondly, and kisses him.

Columbus, OH

Losing is never fun. Losing in Columbus isn’t as awful as, say, losing in Pittsburgh, but it still sucks. The Aces are subdued the next morning as they haul their luggage out of the hotel, onto the airport shuttle, and onto the plane. Most of them find their usual seats and settle in for a nap, a movie, or a game of cards. Swoops’ normal seat isn’t next to Kent, it’s a few up ahead, so Kent is surprised when Swoops slips into the spot beside him.

“I’m not gonna be good company,” Kent warns.

“That’s fine, I’m not staying. Just wanted to give you something.”

“Oh?” Kent’s eyes still feel sticky with sleep and his heart is heavy from the shutout. He doesn’t realize what Swoops is doing until he feels the light pressure of lips against his temple.

“Everywhere,” Swoops says, giving Kent a gentle smile, and then he gets up and heads down the aisle.

Kent doesn’t figure out what Swoops meant by that until their plane is touching down on Ottawa tarmac. When he does, he blushes so hard his cheeks hurt.

Oh. Everywhere.

BB&T Center, Miami, Florida

“Your tie’s crooked, c’mere.”

Kent looks down at himself, trying to see what Swoops is talking about.

“Just c’mere, will you?” Swoops is waving him away from the door to the locker room, which is already full of their teammates pulling off their game day suits and getting ready for warmups.

Kent rolls his eyes and goes over. “I’m taking it off in like, a minute.”

“Aren’t you the captain? Set an example.” Swoops messes with Kent’s collar and makes a few (minor) adjustments to the angle of Kent’s tie. “There.”

“You did literally nothing—” Kent begins to protest, but shuts up when Swoops reels him in by his tie and kisses him. The pressure is light, barely there, and gone in less than a second. After all, they’re alone in the hall but anyone could walk by.

Swoops drops Kent’s tie and winks. “Everywhere. Even outside the locker room.” Then he grins. “You’re blushing really hard.”

“You surprised me,” Kent sputters.

“Better stay on your toes, then.” Swoops pats his shoulder and heads into the locker room alone.

Kent stands outside and fans his face for a couple minutes before he feels like he can go in without being chirpped to death.

The Blind Badger, Anaheim, California

Kent quickly figures out that there’s no logic to the locations where Swoops will choose to kiss him. Sometimes it’s by city, sometimes by arena, sometimes it’s just random. Kent also finds out that he’s not allowed to play. He sneaks into Swoops’ hotel room one night in a desperate attempt to end the week-long dry spell they’ve been forced to have, and when he tries to say, “Everywhere, even your hotel room in Dallas,” Swoops just shakes his head and says, “Doesn’t work like that, Parse.”

So it’s Swoops’ thing, just his. Kent doesn’t mind. It’s embarrassing as hell, because he cannot stop himself from blushing like a fool every time it happens, but he doesn’t mind.

He’s starting to look forward to it.

The Aces go to Anaheim and win handily, 5-2, and then go out to celebrate. They’ve got their choice of bars, and end up in a place that one of the guys found on Yelp, called “The Blind Badger.”

“This place is classy as fuck,” Carl announces when they get in.

“When you’re right, you’re right,” Swoops drawls, although Kent is looking around and he can’t say that Carl’s wrong. The bartenders are wearing ties and serving flaming martinis. Most people here are wearing at least business casual attire.

Their group gets a table and orders their first and second rounds. The bar’s atmosphere keeps them from getting too rowdy, but it’s impossible to smother the full force of their volume. Fortunately, the bar is crowded enough that the worst of their noise is drowned out.

Three rounds and a burger later, Kent hauls himself out of his seat while calling, “I’m going to the bathroom, nobody drink my beer.”

He’s no sooner through the door labeled “Gentlemen” than Swoops is right there with him.

“Swoops, what—Oh no, dude, we’re basically in public—”

Swoops kisses him anyway. Hot, wet, and filthy. Kent almost chokes on the amount of tongue in his mouth. His back bumps the door and he yelps, which becomes a low, needy whine when Swoops pushes a thigh right there.

It’s over before Kent can even think to retaliate. 

Swoops steps back, smirking, and licks his lips before wiping them with the back of his hand. Then he gestures to Kent’s crotch and says, “You’ve got...”

Kent doesn’t need to look, he can feel his own dick getting fat in his pants. “Who’s fault is that?!”

“Not mine. I was never here. I never kissed you in the men’s bathroom at a bar.”

“You absolutely did, and now I’m horny as fuck. You better make this up to me later. You owe me.”

“I will.” Swoops is still smiling, the dick. “You gonna let me out?”

Kent moves away from the door, but not without getting in a hard smack on Swoops’ ass as he goes by.

The Marriott, Montreal, Canada

They’re both stupid, is the problem.

They join a group of guys watching a movie in Kelly’s room. They don’t sit together—Kent shoves his way onto the bed and Swoops takes up a spot at the foot of an armchair. But they’re in the same room, still together, and even having five other teammates in the room with them heckling their way through Fifth Element, they can catch each others’ eyes and share a smile and that sense of, Oh, hello.

After Corbin Dallas has met LeeLoo (but before the Diva sings her solo) Swoops gets up and says, “I’m hitting the vending machine.”

There are scattered requests for Doritos and Snickers and Diet Pepsi, and half a dozen other things that aren’t on any of their meal plans. Kent grabs his wallet and says, “I’ll go with you.”

The halls are empty, just miles of off-white walls and eye-smarting geometric red carpet. A dimly-lit alcove hides the ice dispenser and two vending machines, one for drinks and one for snacks. It’s not exactly romantic. But as Kent is feeding dollars in and eyeing his chocolate options, Swoops takes his arm and says softly, “Hey.”

Kent looks up, and Swoops kisses him. It’s soft and lingering, the kind of kiss that makes Kent feel peeled open. Like Swoops is seeing Kent raw and he likes what he sees. It makes Kent feel wanted, cherished.

"With Hershey's as my witness," Swoops murmurs.

Kent chokes on a laugh, which makes Swoops giggle, and it's so goddamn cute that Kent has to pull him back in. They kiss through their smiles, each of their hands finding places to latch on: a hip, a shoulder, a back pocket. Kent loves that Swoops makes him feel like this, like Kent is something to be sought out and savored. He wants to say "fuck the movie" and drag Swoops back to his room.

Then someone says, way too close, “Are you guys—oh, my god.”

They break apart. It’s Scraps.

Kent can feel the blood draining out of his own face. He feels numb.

Scraps is still standing there, slack-jawed, his eyes wider than Kent ever thought they could go. 

“S-scraps,” Swoops says. “Buddy—”

“You guys were kissing."

Kent grapples with words. “I, uh. No we weren't.” 

“You were kissing in the hallway,” Scraps says, like he’s talking about an alien encounter in a cornfield. “Like, kissing. Are you guys, you know, together? Or is it just—what’s it, blowing off steam? ‘Cause I never did it but I heard a lot of guys in Juniors—”

“How ‘bout you fuck off ‘cause it’s none of your business?” Swoops cuts in, his glare cold.

Kent puts a hand on Swoops’ arm and gives him a look meant to convey Back the hell off, man. To Scraps, he says, “Can we talk about this later? Please? And... maybe don’t tell the guys? Or like, anyone?”

Still giving Swoops a befuddled frown, Scraps nods. “Sure.” He holds up a dollar bill. “Can I buy some pretzels?”

So they move aside to let Scraps buy his pretzels. Kent pats him on the shoulder and says, “Don’t tell the guys?”, to which Scraps repeats, “Sure,” and heads back to the room.

Kent heaves a sigh of relief. “Well, fuck.” Then he gives Swoops a gentle-but-not-that-gentle punch to the arm.

“Ow! The hell?”

Kent punches numbers into the vending machine and squats to pick his M&Ms out of the slot. “You didn’t have to be such a dick.”

“Oh yeah, sorry for being scared outta my mind. How long do you think this is gonna stay quiet? It’s Scraps, for crying out loud! This is the guy who spent a whole day pondering out loud whether a ton of bricks weighed more than a ton of feathers and still didn’t come up with an answer!”

“Wow, and you are still being a dick.”

Swoops waves both hands angrily, hard enough to nearly send his handful of snacks flying. “How are you so calm?!”

Kent sighs. “Because it’s Scraps. He’s a good guy, he won’t rat us out. Christ, Swoops, you know that. You wanna tell me why you’re freaking out so badly?”

Swoops grinds his teeth for a second, then says, “No.”

“No, you don’t know, or no, you don’t wanna tell me?”

“No, I don’t want to tell you. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“So?”

Kent gapes. “Fine, then.” He turns on his heel and heads back to the room, alone.

Later, when Swoops comes back and hands out goodies, Kent doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t acknowledge Swoops for the rest of the night, and when he wakes up the next morning still mad, he doesn’t talk to Swoops on the bus or the plane, either.

Saint Paul, Minnesota

Eventually the sting of the spat wears off. It has to; if they don’t let it dissipate, it could fuck with team dynamics, and nothing is worth that. Kent is a captain first and a lover second. When they’re on the road, facing down December and an agonizingly slow but steady drop down the Western Conference rankings, he has to be.

They don’t talk about what happened in front of the vending machine in the Marriott in Montreal, though. It chafes at Kent, the memory of dismissal in that single, “So?” But Scraps doesn’t tell anyone and that seems to satisfy Swoops, and if there’s no active disagreeing going on, Kent has to assume it’s all fine.

"Are you guys fighting?" Scraps asks Kent at a team dinner.  "You and Jeff?" Everyone around them is stuffing their faces and drinking, because they’d just lost that afternoon on account of a truly embarrassing couple of empty-net goals.The bar has three blaring TVs and most of them are half drunk. None of them are listening.

"No.”

Scraps looks surprised. “Really? You guys are always together, and now you’re...not.” He glances down the table, where Swoops is laughing loudly at something Tads has just said and stuffing cheese sticks in his mouth. Then he leans in close and says something so quiet that Kent can’t make it out.

“Bud, I can’t hear you.”

The volume comes up a notch. “I said, did you guys break up?”

Kent’s immediate response is to shake his head and exclaim, “No!” but what’s horrifying is that his first thought is, Wait, did we?

Their game hasn’t suffered, at least. Kent wouldn’t place the blame of tonight’s loss on him and Swoops not clicking on the ice.

But he’s acutely aware that Swoops hasn’t kissed him since Montreal, and that... scares him, actually. He hadn’t let himself think about it but he is now and when he looks at Swoops sitting a few feet (it feels like miles) away, drinking and eating and not seeking Kent out with his eyes the way he usually would...

It’s a black hole in Kent’s chest.

Shit.

Providence River, Providence, Rhode Island

“Can we talk?” Kent asks—pleads, really, the morning of the game. Half the team is still asleep upstairs in their rooms, the other half eating breakfast and fully distracted by coffee and their phones. Kent is not a morning person, but Swoops is. Kent had set his alarm for this god-awful hour so he’d have a shot at getting Swoops alone.

Swoops has been wearing an expression like he was expecting this since he spotted Kent coming out of the elevator. But he just sighs, says, “Yeah, sure,” and puts his empty plate aside. “Where?”

“Let’s take a walk,” Kent suggests.

They grab cinnamon rolls and cups of coffee for the road and leave the hotel. Nobody expects the Aces to go anywhere this early, so the front lobby and entrance are clear. Kent steers them in the direction of the Providence River. Swoops might know where they’re going, he might not. Still, he follows without question or complaint.

With the sun barely in the sky and the area not residential, they have the sidewalks mostly to themselves. Kent asks, without preamble, “Did we break up?”

Swoops nearly spits out his coffee. “What? No!” His eyes are wide. “Wait, are you saying you want—”

“No! No.”

“Okay.” Swoops takes a careful breath. “Okay. Good. I don’t want to.”

“Me neither.”

Kent leads them left at an intersection, and it’s only a few more minutes before the river comes into view. There’s a bike path following it, lined with white railing and skeletal trees bereft of their leaves. It’s November but unseasonably warm—or at least what passes for “warm” in Rhode Island at this time of year. Kent’s sweatshirt and his coffee are keeping him from feeling the brunt of the morning chill. The sun is rising over the city, breaking it into blocky shadows and streaks of light.

They walk, finishing their cinnamon rolls and draining their coffees and then dumping the remains in a public trashcan. The silence drags on.

Swoops breaks it. “I know what I said, I know how it came off, and I’m sorry. I’m also sorry I wasn’t sorry earlier. I’m just... I don’t know. I was pissed off.”

Kent hates to ask, but he does. “At me?”

There’s a small, awful pause preceding Swoops’ response. “No.”

“Scraps, then? ‘Cause it’s not his fault he saw us—”

“I’m not pissed at Scraps. Or maybe ‘pissed’ isn’t the right word, I don’t know. I just—him showing up reminded me, is all. That it’s not safe to kiss you everywhere.” Swoops blows out a frustrated breath and rubs his eyes. “I would, you know? I’d kiss you in front of other people. I’d kiss you anywhere, in front of everyone, if I...could.” His eyes are going glassy and he quickly wipes the wetness away.

“Holy shit, are you—?” Kent says, but doesn’t wait for a response before pulling Swoops into a tight hug.  

Swoops’ returning grip is like a bearhug. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Kent holds him close as long as he dares. Then he pulls back and meets Swoops’ gaze. “So, you like me, don’t you.”

“Of course I like you.”

“You really, really like me.”

“I’m fucking crazy about you,” Swoops huffs. “Okay?” He’d be more convincingly exasperated if his face wasn’t blotchy and his eyes weren’t still damp.

“I’m fucking crazy about you, too,” Kent admits, even though it feels like diving in front of a Zdeno Chara slapshot. Being around Swoops has the side-effect of making Kent brave to the point of stupidity. “So don’t stop kissing me all over North America, okay? You said everywhere. I want everywhere.”

Swoops might cry again, from the look of him. Kent can’t believe he’s been best friends with this guy for half a decade and never known what a soft heart Swoops has. “I’ll do my best,” Swoops says.

Kent wants so badly to take his hand. “Come on,” he says instead. “Let’s find a really thick bunch of trees and kiss behind them.”

“That’s basically in public,” Swoops protests, but Kent can’t help noticing that he follows along as soon as Kent starts walking again. “I’m not helping you do something that stupid.”

“Well, fine. Where do you wanna kiss me?”

Swoops puts an arm over Kent’s shoulders—casual enough to be ‘just friends’ but close enough for Kent to feel his warmth—and smiles. “I’ll see what comes to me.”

[sithlordintraining]

A Race in Space is Dangerous, Honey

A/N: Today I just want to be loved and kissed and eat donuts.

Previous: A Merry Companion is a Wagon in Space, Honey

Narrator: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away; Ben Solo: he’s a dandy guy in space. He combs the galaxy like his hair on the hunt for aliens and any other things that people need smuggling. Planet after planet he searches, discovering bizarre relics and new creatures, both friendly and not. These are the spectacular adventures of Ben Solo and his brave space crew in space.

Everyone ducked as the Falcon flew a little too low to the ground. Soon it was landing with an angry Han and Chewie storming up to it. The ramp lowered and Ben and Y/N walked out.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Han yelled.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Solo, I-”

“Don’t apologize for my son Y/N, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He told you. “And please call me Han.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “I was teaching her how to fly.”

Just then a discombobulated C3-PO and Maumau walked out.

“Yeah, and she almost killed us.” Maumau dry heaved.

Your head dropped not ready to be yelled at by Han, but he just sighed.

“Sweetheart if you want to learn how to fly, please ask me. I can teach you to make the Kessel Run in twelve seconds.”

Ben groaned.

Narrator: It had been a little over two months since you had joined this little Resistance family and Y/N had adjusted very well. Her pink halter, short shorts, and white go-go boots were traded for a cream turtleneck, blue military jacket, black pants and tan boots, which had Benny boys heart swelling even more from the fact that they were technically matching. Ben began to enjoy his life and forget the war around him. His life was filled with smuggling and Y/N. Everyone thought the two youngsters were such a charming couple; Ben smuggled and she was given work in the base’s cantina. Every Sunday, they would have family dinners with his parents and sometimes Luke and Rey. Ben found time for her to come with him and explore the galaxy and teaching skills that would be useful. Leia and Han loved it; they treated her like the little princess they never had. And just between you and I, Leia and Ben were already planning the destination outdoor wedding.

Leia made her to them with a scowl on her face.

“Great, not you too!” Ben mumbled, but she continued passing him. He turned to see his mother and a crowd of girls running up to an X-wing. The hood popped up and no other than Poe Dameron hopped out with his bright cheesy smile.

“Poe, you could’ve gotten yourself killed. It was a simple mission.” Leia stressed.

“I know, General. I did but can’t let the First Order get too cocky.” Poe smiled.

“Sounds like you did, not them.” She turned. “My office now!”

He began to follow her only to stop in front of Ben.

“Well hello, I’ve never seen you here,” Poe smirked.

“What? I kriffing live in the same building as you.” Ben scoffed only to realize he was talking about Y/N.

“Hi, I’m Poe Dameron, Commander of the Starfighter Corps.”

Narrator: Poe Dameron, Commander of the Starfighter Corps and one General Organa’s most trusted operatives. The son of Lieutenant Shara Bey and Sergeant Kes Dameron of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, Dameron followed in his late mother's footsteps and became a pilot. But that’s just his day job; like Ben, he too had been in the pages of COSMOS, Spacethrob and top five of Sexiest Creature in the Universe. If anything, Poe was his biggest competition. Regardless if he was short, he had great skin, a great personality and a cute little droid of his, even though, no droid beats R2-D2. Love that filthy scoundrel.

He picked your hand up and gently laid a kiss on your knuckles. “Someone as beautiful as you should never go unnoticed.”

You bit back a smile. “I’m Y/N, Ben’s girlfriend.”

Poe’s face fell as Ben’s smile was brighter than ever. “Yup, that’s right.”

“Well, if you ever want a real man to fly with I’m your guy.” Poe winked.

“Oh yeah, well a real man knows how to save lives and not put people in danger.”

“Oh yeah, well”

Narrator: This ‘Oh yeah,’ went on for quite some time until Han finally intervened settling a race between the two boys after hours. Of course, word spread like wildfire and got to Leia who was fuming. Han tried to reason with her but if he didn’t want to be in the doghouse he would have to stop it. And so he did and moved it to a planet that had an amazing race venue.

“You’ll sit right there next to my dad, ok?” Ben said.

You just nodded as you watched him return to help Threepio and Maumau get the Falcon ready.

“Y/N.” A voice called your name, turning you saw Poe.

“Hello, Poe.”

“Lovely for you to join us. I’d like you to meet my best friend BB-8.” Poe smiled. And orange and white circular robot rolled over to you beeping.

“He says you’re beautiful.” You thanked the little droid and went down to examine it. Ben watched as his rival talk to his girlfriend. A feeling stronger than jealousy seemed to rise within him.

Take that and use it, it will fuel you.

Ben shook off the voice and strolled down next to you. “Y/N, the race is about to start, you should take your seat.”

The droid beeped. “He wants to know if he can stay with you,” Poe said.

“Of course he can.” You smiled and the droid whirled around you.

Ben rolled his eyes as he walked you and the droid over to the seats.

“Good luck!” You pressed a kiss to his lips.

He smiled, then scowled at the droid. “Watch yourself.”

Narrator: The race began with both men neck and neck following the course set out by Chewie and Han. But another competitor was ready to enter the race. The First Order had gotten information of this race and it would be the best way to capture the infamous Ben Solo. And it was very easy to be on his tail since Ben was so preoccupied with beating Poe.

“You slimy, stuck up, mama’s boy!” Poe yelled into his headset.

“Yeah, well at least I have one!” Ben yelled and before he knew it the Falcon began to shake as Poe rammed his ship against it. The two ships started at each other as the First Order’s ship made their way behind them locking them both in an invisible hold. Both men messed with their switches and gears to see why they were floating backward in space.

“SHIT!” They yelled as they watched the large fleet envelop them.

General Hux marched proudly through the gleaming halls of the Finalizer with Captain Phasma by his side. He walked into the hangar to see troopers holding down two captured Resistance members kneeling. He stopped in front of them.

Poe looked up. “So do you speak first or are we just going to stare?”

Ben widened his eyes at the brave man. Soon enough, a loud crack was heard as a gloved hand came crashing down on Poe’s face.

“Take him to a cell.” General Hux ordered. “And you.”

The troopers pulled Ben up to be face to face with the General. Ben smirked as he was a few inches taller.

“You childish, incompetent Resistance scum. The Resistance will fall as well as your family.” Hux said.

Ben tried to hold it together but he couldn’t, so like the childish person he is, he spat in Hux’s face. The look of disgust was present on his face and made Ben smirk in accomplishment. Ben’s head flew back quicker than he could process as Hux landed a punch right in his face. Ben looked at the smirking General as his mouth filled with blood, so he landed his bloody spit right on the General’s boot.

“Lock him up until the Supreme Leader is ready for him.”

He was thrown into a cell right across from Poe. Ben groaned as his back collided with the metal. After the troopers left the air filled with the light humming of machinery. Poe looked over to see him with more bruises than him.

“I’m sorry for hitting on your girlfriend,” Poe said.

“I-I’m sorry for talking about your mom.” Ben looked down. There was silence before Poe muttered thanks.

“When we get out of here, just-just don’t tell my mom.” Ben pleaded.

“You so sure about that? You can barely stand.” Poe laughed.

“You won’t be saying that when I save your ass.” Ben chuckled.

“Alright, so what’s the plan?”

They devised a plan consisting of Poe’s cunning tactics of diversion and Ben’s mild use of the force. Surprisingly it worked all the way up to the hangar when the began to argue if taking one ship was the best option.

“We have to take the Falcon, it’s historical!” Ben argued.

“Exactly, it’s history!” Poe yelled

“My dad will literally skin me, while my mom will issue you a new ship!” Ben told him keeling over in pain.

“STOP THEM!” The sharp accented voice alerted the two fugitives they had just been found. Troopers started to march towards them blaster in hand. Poe whipped his blaster pistol out and began shooting. Ben took this opportunity to pull Poe into the Falcon.

“Cheap move.” Poe snarked.

“Yeah, but it was the only one we had left.”

It seemed like forever before they returned and no what thought about it because Chewie had mapped a course that was extremely long and someone had messed with the wires and the camera’s that followed the ships lost connection. But everyone knew something had happened when only one ship returned with two men. Han, Y/N, and BB-8 rushed over to them. Poe braced Ben up with his shoulder and then Han caught took his son from him.

“What happened?” Han asked.

“We were kidnapped by the First Order and we escaped,” Poe told him. “He got a little more than I did.”

“Alright let’s get you guys home,” Han said as Chewie picked up his nephew and you, Maumau, Threepio, Poe, and BB-8 followed him onto the ship.

You followed right behind Chewie trying to make sure he was okay. You’d never seen Ben so broken, he’d always been so strong and heroic. To see him beaten, bloodied and barely conscious. Han made his way to the cockpit with Chewie and you moved to sit next to your sleeping beauty. You brushed his sweat-soaked raven hair out of his face. A shaky breath escaped you as he groaned when the ship jumped into hyperspace.

“If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have made it,” Poe said causing you turn around. “I was supposed to make a diversion and I ended up creating a problem. He had to use the force and I think that’s what strained most of his energy.”

Your face twisted up. “The force?”

“Yeah, the force is when-”

“Dameron.” Han’s boisterous voice caused Y/N and Poe to jump. “Go, man, the ship.”

Poe nodded and excused himself. Han made his way in front of you and watched you gently hold his son’s hand.

“He’s going to be okay, right?” You asked him.

“Yeah...the kid is going to be alright.” Han pressed a kiss to the side of your head leaving the two alone to go scream at the droids messing up his ship.

Narrator: Somewhere deep in dark depth of space, Supreme Leader Snoke was degrading and dragging his General for capturing two of the most wanted men in the Resistance and having them both escape.

“A worthless nothing,” Snoke released the man from his hold. “Just like your father said.”

Hux rubbed at his neck as abusive childhood memories ran through his mind.

“And you come to me, looking a mess.” Snoke scoffed in disappointment.

“If only I could create the perfect apprentice.” Snoke sighed. “Dismissed.”

Hux was waved off and turned quickly on his heel. He tried his best to keep his anger at ease but the degrading memories of Ben Solo’s ridiculous smirk and spitting games had him fuming.

“Wait!” Snoke called out. “Come closer.”

Hux turned and did just that. Using the force, Snoke brought the mixture of blood and spit from Hux’s boot towards him using the force to shape it into a ball. His blue beady eyes watched the mix of human fluid swirl in front of him.

“A creation of pure darkness,” Snoke smirked

To be continued…

P.S.: I was going to put all the parts up but I’m still editing and name even I feel I still find errors even after I check. 

[howdoyousleep3]

Nov 24, 2020

Dear Miss K (aka, my lovely, amazing, perfect little filthy 🧁🥰) :

First of all, I would like to apologize because life has kicked me so damn much lately and I haven’t had the time to read and leave a comment about your amazing, work of art “We freak on the cam” fic 😔😭. Please forgive this poor lost soul who hasn’t had time to do anything else than work, stressed myself while I’m awake and fall asleep with my phone in my hand 😢. Now, being said that, I would like to express my love and gratitude towards you and PrettierAndYounger for the amazing gift you have given us!

GIRL... you broke me!!!!! There are no words to express how much I love that fic!!!!

I took some “notes” from my favorite parts but actually I can’t say they are my favorites cause all the fic and the art is amazing but here are a couple that turned my brain in hot liquid lava...

Steve has tits Bucky wants to sink his teeth into. — uggggggh you and me baby Bucky (tbt I found this edit of Chris and now I can’t help but think that’s “Cap” for ya 🤪😝😩🥵

“Have always loved it, intimacy and bringing someone pleasure. After I got out of the military I was at a loss, wasn’t sure what to do, and I was getting pretty sad, but I knew I wanted it to be something for me. Spent half’a my life doing things for other people. It was my turn.” — damn! That sad and “it was my turn KILLED ME. Ofc you have all the right in the world to do it by precious daddy, I mean Cap! I mean Steve 😩

Gonna show me somethin’ no one has ever seen, baby?” Obviously YESSSS!!! 🤤 show it to us baby Bucky, you pretty little thing. That boy is such a beauty from any angle 🤤😏

“Oh, honey—I’d be so good to you. But once I get my hands on you, you bet your sweet ass I’m leavin’ marks.” Perfect — YESSSSS leave all the marks! It’ll make it real! And baby Bucky will feel so good, so owned (and ruined for anyone else)

Bucky watches with hungry eyes, presses his hips down into his comforter, lets them roll and chase his pleasure a bit. Bucky gets one eyeful of Steve cupping and squeezing at his own dick around what’s left of that sheet before— Oh shit…” Bucky’s head falls to lean on his arm, tilted to the side. He doesn’t think he can hold it up anymore and doesn’t want to look like an idiot if he were to try. He’s moving before he can comprehend what he’s doing — INSERT THIRSTY WET NSFT GIF HERE—

He feels like an animal, like a bitch in heat. You and me both baby Buckyyyy I mean, how could you not (btw, it’s so fucking HOT at least for me, reading that phrases)

The cherry on top is that beautiful set of balls resting heavily at the base of his dick. Bucky can imagine and feel the weight of them on his tongue without trying hard. They make Bucky want to be sloppy. — I want to be suffocated by that heavy pair of balls 😬🤤 that would be a beautiful dead

Get specific, Buck. You know I wanna hear those dirty words comin’ out of your angel mouth.” — that “angel mouth” it’s an amazing contrast cause boy has the most beautiful 👄 but at the same time, there’s nothing angelic about the delicious things Bucky can do with his mouth, it’s like a religious experience for which would be worthy walk from earth to hell and back just to get a taste of his mouth

Steve is a leaker, drips like a broken faucet, fat cockhead shiny even through the computer screen. Bucky wants to slurp him up. 👄💋 he’s a leaker and I’m such a thirsty little creature 😔 mmmm god Bucky is so luckyyyy!

After that I stopped taking notes cause I was in too deep reading and I lost myself in the but then, I was brutally shaken with this...

He feels even sluttier on his back, stretches and rolls like a kitten, grins as he looks up and over at his computer screen. He feels intoxicated as Steve looks back at him in the same inebriated fashion. 

“Want you to fuck me,” Bucky murmurs hotly, spreads his legs nice and slow as he speaks. When Steve rumbles, reaches somewhere out of view, Bucky whines and lets his head drop back onto his pillows. “Want you to fuck this pussy, Daddy. Want you to give it to me so good, so fuckin’ good.” 

I have a very graphic mind, you know so I can see him so clearly, oh gosh I can barely take it!!! Seb is so gorgeous and imagining him being a little minx is so 💦

Oh, honey yeah. Daddy’s got a big cock, you know that. D’have to train that pussy.” — yessss daddy ruin that pussy for anyone else!!! Such a gorgeous fat cock to fuck that beautiful sweet pussy 😩💋💦🍑

But this... HOLLY SHITTTTT THIS KILLED ME !!!!!

His eyes almost cross when he watches Steve move, push his computer back, watches the older man crawl onto his front, dig his knees into the bed, hand never leaving his dick. He gets into position to fuck Bucky.  — K, I need your contact info cause I’m gonna send you my therapist bill, GIRL YOU BROKE ME, MY BRAIN IS BROKEN!!!

Come on, baby. Lemme see that pussy squirt, s’a boy, give it to me, yes—”

“Do it, Bucky. Do it. Come on, baby. Lemme see that pussy squirt, s’a boy, give it to me, yes—”

Bucky doesn’t win things, doesn’t have any luck in this life, has to work hard for every single thing he has. That phrase is something I can relate to Bucky so damn much! Well, not really, cause a) I’m no sexy and precious like him b) I didn’t get to find my “prince charming perfect daddy Steve Rogers” 🤣 but yes, have to work hard for every single thing 😌

I think is safe to say that I like it to infinity and beyond and you deserve no less than praises cause I said before, this is a work of art.

Thank you so much for taking the time to write this amazing and holy shit 21231 words fic! I wish I could write 21231 words praising you and thanking you for this gift of fic you’ve given us but to my utter sorrow, I’m not a writer.

Thank you again baby K and ohhhh I loved the

My sweet sweet sugary bb ana!!!! What did I ever do to deserve you or this?? Honey, never apologize for life happening-- I am not important enough for that! The stories are always there for you to get to as soon as you can or whenever you want! 

All of the parts that you pointed out are ones that I just loved writing! I knew I didn’t want Steve to lay back and touch himself and I almost blacked out thinking about him fucking his fiiiiiiiiist, ah! It seems like I’m being billed left and right for new sheets and therapist visits so might as well add yours on! Put it on my tab. 😉

Love you so so so much! Thank you for this lovely comment here and on the one on Ao3!! 🧁😘💕