#Of Halos and Heats

[ask-smutty-lucifer]

Gabriel just smiles, not minding you using his nickname. “Mama really did call Mikey Mayor! And our other brother Raphy’s nickname was Sparky! His wings were very staticy, and he accidentally zapped us all the time!” Gabriel says as he curls up on the bed. He continues to tell you stories from their childhood, and Michael sighs softly before falling asleep as Gabriel continues to chatter your ear off. || Aniara’s hands immediately went to play with his member as soon as he was free of his pants. As she got him riled up, she leaned forward and bit his lower lip, sucking the skin between her teeth. Her forehead presses against his.

I continue to smile at Gabriel, intently listening to each and every story even as Michael’s knot goes down and I wiggle out of bed for just a moment to slip on a sleep shirt and climb back in. Just for the off chance that someone came in without knocking. When i curled back up though, it seemed Gabriel was also growing sleepy as he nuzzled against my chest, his words growing slurred and soon we were both snoring.

||

Nebriel groans, bucking his hips up, desperately needing the friction of her hand. “My Love.” He purrs, tracing his hands over her curves eagerly. “How do you want me? On top of you? Below you?” He asks, wincing internally as he feels me start to come out of sleep and back into our world, hesitating for only a moment before quietly sending my consciousness to God’s room inside of his head. He wanted a few moments to enjoy Aniara like this, by himself. And he did promise God that he could play with me, cute little kitten ears and all.

||

In God’s room, my body plops down on his bed, cute blonde kitten ears on my head and a swishing tail behind me, my belly flat in here instead of round with pups like my actual body. A pink lace bra and panties adorned my body but otherwise I was naked and I scrunched my nose up at the cold, whimpering and rolling onto my belly, seeking warmth, only the slightest bit awake.

[fandomstuckportal]

((WHO PUT PONIES IN MY SERIOUS GMOD RP!!!!

2 fallout equestrians, a spartans brain worm (ai), and a normal mundane g5 pony. they are hell.

redraws of @punkitt-is-here's comics!!))

[tonydaddingham]

LWA: Regarding the halo: we see a variant in the Job minisode. When Aziraphale does his "avaunt" speech, he has a full-body aureole, which unlike the halo around the head is /not/ an angelic attribute in religious painting and sculpture. The design of Aziraphale's aureole, with golden rays emanating from his body, looks like it was modeled on Marian iconography, as in the case of the Virgin of Guadalupe (https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/635401). There are a bunch of other examples, like the Madonna of Humility at the Getty Museum, where both the Virgin and God have ray aureoles. I am not sure where the design team thought they were going with this, although it fits with the Madonna pose they used for that promotional photo of Aziraphale in his Job robes.

ahhhhh this is so interesting!!!✨ i had no idea before this that there was such a nuance between aureole and halo, and their individual meanings in iconography (and thats not even taking into account different individual depictions like mandorla etc!). given the - as ive now learnt - very subtle but definite distinction between the two, and their individual meanings in religious contexts, it seems reasonable that the design team might have gone to some lengths to research it similarly!!!

(and now i shall spam you all with research because i am excited and Must Share)

so as LWA, the oracle of all truth, has said - ep2 where aziraphale appears to crawley shows him with an aureole surrounding him, much like the multiple depictions of Our Lady of Guadalupe (above is the Virgin of Guadalupe, by Salcedo, 1779). other depictions/notable copies of the original however include:

(L-R: de Arellano, 1691, Gonzalez, c. 1698, and the original from cy/16th, upon which they're based which, as far as i can find, has no confirmed artist?).

and coming back to italian renaissance (which im slightly more familiar with), the following works show the same:

(L-R: Madonna and Child with Two Saints, Pisanello, c. 1445, The Last Judgement, Michelangelo, f. 1541, and Baptism of Christ, Verrocchio and da Vinci, c. 1475)

it is especially prevalent in christian religious art, but as LWA said it does appear to be mostly used for religious figures, and not necessarily angels or saints (most of those are depicted with halos instead). most examples, like the ones above, that ive found seem to be used exclusively for jesus and mary. in other religions such as buddhism, aureola appear to be shown in the form of a mandorla (an almond-shaped field) that surround enlightened beings, such as Buddha.

let's move onto halos; ep6 shows our funky angel removing his, and is shown in the form of a ring, emitting the same kind of light as the aureole. disks have been depicted in art from well before the time of christ, including in ancient egypt (ra) and in iran (mithra).

funnily enough, finding depictions of ring halos rather than disk/plate ones was actually quite difficult? either way - above shows Virgin of the Rocks by da Vinci, f. 1486, shows a subtle but clear ring halo over Mary's head. keeping with the cy/15-16th onwards for fair comparison, showing a combination of disk and ring halos:

(L-R: Branchini Madonna, di Paolo, 1427, Madonna of the Book, Botticelli, c. 1481, and Deposition of Christ, Raphael, 1507)

these all again are examples depicting christ and mary, so what about angels? i found the best example to look at is the annunciation to mary, as this was the subject of a number of notable pieces in the same time period:

(L-R: da Vinci, f. 1476, Fra Angelico, 1450, and Botticelli c. 1490)

all show gabriel with a halo around their head, as opposed to an aureole. the one that fascinated me though is botticelli; there is relatively little known about his depictions of the annunciation, but there are multiple - the above is in glasgow, there is another in new york, and the last is the Cestello Annunciation). however, in the first two, glasgow and new york, there is a clear feature of an aureole-type shaft of light coming from behind gabriel, and shining upon mary.

i certainly think that it's mostly representative of god's gift being bestowed on her, ("The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee.", Luke 1:35) but the perspective of the glasgow painting almost shows like the light comes from a crack in the wall, and would suggest that aziraphale stepping out from the aureole as some sort of glorified portal is a mirror of this.

anyway, because ive rambled on long enough about nothing truly insightful; what is the point in these two different displays? well, from my research, it seems to be that aureola are used to surround the head or the body, and iconographically represent divinity, glory and, depending on the subject/context, enlightenment.

but given that it has largely been reserved in art for the depictions of the holy trinity as well as mary, to outright use it in connection with aziraphale seems... strange. in this particular scene, or part of his story, why has he been purposefully elevated to the same level of importance and power? we have no reason to suspect from the ensuing dialogue that god sent aziraphale deliberately in her name to thwart crowley, carrying her power... or did she?

the halo however appears to be specifically used for instances of depicting angels or saints (in the case of gabriel and various apostles in multiple artworks), as well as jesus and mary. so that to me would suggest that halos are somewhat specifically meant to represent innate saintliness and holiness, inherent divine nature. were specifically touched by god's grace and love, and were embodiments of god's will.

what this necessarily means in relation to aziraphale though, beyond him obviously being an angel, a representative of the heavenly host, and a messenger of god's will etc... im not entirely sure.

there is presumably no reason for him to be depicted with an aureole unless, as LWA suggests, it's to draw parallels to artwork where mary is especially shown as having one. but in the context of s2 (and the job minisode), isn't this a little out of field?

another thing - aziraphale does seem to be able to turn it on and off like a tap, suggesting that it's there in the narrative for sheer Impressiveness, to Look The Part, in front of a demon... so, is it only for design purposes, because cinematically it's bloody cool to look at? or is it meant to give insight into aziraphale's thoughts and beliefs?

with it, would he (in aziraphale's mind, bless) look intimating enough to thwart crawley's 'nefarious plan' with minimal effort? possibly, but i doubt it; im a pretty firm believer in Reasons for certain design choices, especially ones that would take a lot of post-production work to animate. so, could aziraphale have chosen to appear with the aureole, to be suitably intimidating, but after having his faith in god's will shaken after the events of job, chose not to manifest it again, because its symbolism no longer rings true for him?

[thegoldenavenger]

Oh man... just realised that when og shen qingqiu left the caves and immedietly had to deal with the whole ass demon attack by himself he had also just finished watching liu qingge kill himself in qi deviation after trying to help him not die, knowing everyone was going to blame him anyways.

Like, failing to save your rival, knowing you're going to be blamed for his death, being the only person with the power and responsibility to defeat an entire demon army while in a presumably delicate place with your own cultivation and physical ability, watching the little sister of the rival you just failed to save lose her fight and apologize to you, and then the brat you stole from your dearly departed rival wins his match instead of dying like you maybe set him up for

That's rough buddy

[ageless-aislynn]

I've always loved the look of tv!Master Chief in his undersuit, so I did my best to recreate my very own action figure undersuit!John. 😇😉

Click to make bigger. Now, granted, people with steadier hands than I could've painted details on the suit to make it more authentic but, well, ya girl has to work with what ya girl has to work with. 🤷‍♀️😉

The recipe, if you're interested, is a Valaverse Action Force Special Ops trooper body and the Star Wars Black Series Axe Woves head. They did not swap easily, I should warn, but it's doable. 😉

I really love him and am so glad to have him on my desk at long last! ⭐💖⭐

[terry-the-insane]

My favorite g/t trope is when T is scared of falling off high places even though being really small means your terminal velocity (maximum speed at which you can fall) is greatly decreased and T could probably fall off the roof of a 5 story building and only get scratched.

[acasualcrossfade]

Whumpril Day 13: “I think I need to sit down.”

Heat Exhaustion

Written for @whumpril challenge Day 13: Blurry Vision | Support | “I think I need to sit down.”

Stranger Things: Steve/Eddie

Words: 1049

TW: dizziness

Steve is dizzy after his lifeguarding shift and staggers to the concession stand, where Eddie works, for help.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve’s ears roared as he stepped down from the lifeguard stand. 

The air felt thicker and slower, and suddenly he was too hot in his tank top and shorts. Steve could feel the heat climb up his legs and across his chest as the cacophony of the public pool faded to a low hum in his ears. He staggered as he approached the concession stand, glad to see that Eddie was on shift behind the counter. The world seemed to shift and tilt under him.

Dimly, he wondered if Eddie could see that he was on fire. 

“Steve?” Eddie called, immediately jumping from his perch from behind the counter. “Steve, you okay?” Worry coated his words as he saw how unsteady Steve looked.

“I-I think I need to s-sit down,” Steve moaned, his voice barely a whisper. The ground swayed like he was standing on a waterbed and his mouth felt like dry paper and he leaned heavily on Eddie, who led him the rest of the way to the concession stand counter.

“You’re burning up,” Eddie frowned and led Steve into the concession stand, and then to the back room. He sat Steve in the chair closest to the fan that blew loudly from the corner. “Here, sit. I’ll be right back with a few things.”

With Steve supported against it, Eddie swiped a hand across his forehead. Steve frowned when Eddie’s hand left; he wanted nothing more than to melt into Eddie’s arms and press himself against his familiar worn t-shirt.

Steve put his head in his hands as he relished the feeling of cool air on his overheated skin.

Eddie was gone for less than a second and returned with a cup of water, a cup of ice and a tray of damp clothes balanced on the two cups. 

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sight. His boyfriend might not have the obvious muscles, but his balance and agility were unmatched. 

“When did you start feeling like this?” Eddie tutted, already positioning the fan so it blew directly on Steve. He pressed a hand against Steve’s forehead and bit his lip, and then nodded at the fan. “If this isn’t enough, I have no qualms about carrying you to the showers.” 

Steve frowned when Eddie’s hand left his forehead; he wanted nothing more than to melt into Eddie’s arms and press himself against his familiar worn t-shirt.

Steve lifted and lowered his shoulder, trying to give Eddie answer. His brain felt too heavy and sludgy to really think much about it. When had he started feeling like this? Maybe the middle of his shift? Or was it closer to the end? His memories felt like he was grasping at a wet soap bar. 

Eddie pressed one of the cool cloths to Steve’s forehead and temples, and Steve sighed in relief. Eddie dabbed at his jaw and cheeks, and then gently, the back of his neck. 

Slowly, Steve could feel the overwhelming heat extinguish away.

Eddie's eyes were warm and inviting as he took in Steve’s form. “Geez Stevie, how is it that even with heat exhaustion you look…”

Steve breathed out a laugh at that. “Like a damsel… dressed as a lifeguard?”

Eddie gave him a secret smile that made Steve’s heart skip. “Something like that.”

Eddie handed Steve a cup with a straw and the ice knocked together in the Styrofoam cup. “Here, we gotta get some water in you.” He held out the straw to Steve. “Slowly though, I don’t want you to get sick.” 

Steve sipped slowly as Eddie held the straw in place. The water felt like heaven against his paper-dry mouth and Steve fought the temptation to gulp down the whole cup.

Finally, the world was coming back into focus. 

Eddie cupped his chin in his palm and gave him a sympathetic look. “How do you feel now?”

“Better. Less dizzy.” Words came easier and Steve felt a weight start to lift from his brain. He met Eddie’s eyes.

Ever since that day in the shed, Steve hadn’t been able to forget the hard intenseness of the man’s stare. They glinted and gleamed and shone, and after their first kiss, they looked like melted chocolate. Now, Eddie’s chocolate eyes studied him as if he was spontaneously going to lose consciousness.

“It’s already better,” Steve assured Eddie. He already felt more steady than he had a few minutes ago and he felt cooler.

Still, Eddie eyed him carefully. “You still look pretty pale, Harrington. And pale isn’t the best look on you.” Eddie bit his lip and Steve could see him starting to contemplate how to get him into the showers.

Steve tried to concentrate on something else. The attention, being seen, still made his cheeks and ears heat in shame. He was too used to assuring people he was fine and they typically agreed once they saw he could walk, talk, and function. 

It wasn’t until Steve was truly alone when he’d let himself fall apart.

But with Eddie, it was like the man had a sixth sense for it. He saw right past it all. And sure enough, when Steve tried to stand up to prove he was fine, the world swayed.

Eddie steadied him easily, his eyes wide. “Woah, okay, nope, you’re not going anywhere.” 

Steve nodded mutely and let Eddie guide him to put his head between his knees. Eddie kept a hand on his back as he sat, and then slowly started to rub his shoulders.  

He felt Eddie’s hand leave for a moment and he looked up. Dizziness still hummed in his ears. “Eds?”

“Right here, Steve,” Eddie replied, placing another chair next to him. “We’re gunna stay here ‘til the end of my shift.”

“Here?” Steve looked around the small break room. “Don’t you have to work out there?”

“I got it covered,” Eddie replied easily. He placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.”

And for the first time in a long time, Steve found that he didn’t have to worry. He let Eddie push a few strands of his stubbornly sweaty hair off his forehead before going back to rubbing his back and shoulders. 

And as Steve recovered, he allowed himself to be cared for and cared about.

[magpie-rogue]

An some ideas on an update to Yulia’s angel form since she has to use a spell to take it now since she and Althiel no longer share a body. I almost wish I had gone with the, as a friend put it, ‘doily’ halo bc I think it’s very cute and fitting of Yulia. Anyway the last image is like extra wonky bc it was a last minute edit to the pile after I had already saved all the others and the original file had been merged and a bunch of other nonsense so =w=;;

OC Yulia: she/her

[doom-dreaming]

god the library sucks so bad. the halo level. not the actual library

[atlantes96]

Heath Halo & Bruce Jones

6106 ✅ 27.10.24

Heath Halo & Bruce Jones Aggro! (2024) dir. Steve Cruz

[ask-smutty-lucifer]

Gabriel pouts at you as he trots over, unable to resist the offer of pets. “I’m not the silly one! I’m the funny one! Mama said so!” He then sticks his tongue out at Michael. “She did not!” Michael insists, glaring at Gabriel as you pet him. “Did so! And she said you were bossy, Michael! That’s why she nicknamed you ‘Mayor’!” Gabriel smirks as Michael’s eyes narrow. “Not bossy! Just the oldest, so I was in charge when Mama was busy! And if I remember correctly, she called you ‘Munch Munch’ because you ate all your food AND tried to steal everyone else’s, Gabe!” || Aniara proceeded to climb up on Nebriel, straddling his lap. Eve coughs softly before excusing herself to use the restroom. However, Aniara didn’t seem to care if anyone was watching or not as she started to peel her shirt off.

“Munch Munch.” I coo, already thoroughly planning on using this nickname for him from now on, just to tease him. He did love to steal all the food, mine included! God forbid I open a snack and not offer him any, he’d give me the most hurt puppy look of all time until I caved.

||

Nebriel purrs, barely even caring about an audience as he helps her shuck off her clothes, his mouth eagerly latching onto the side of her breast and sucking a deep bruise there as he works himself out of his pants.

[impossibletrashcrown]

Japan imported tungsten filament, high quality quartz tube, long time in 1100 degrees Celsius high temperature use

[ranafamily7]

Appeal to humanity 🫂

I beg you read that 🥺

vetted by gazavetters

vetted by dlxxv

I am writing this post with tears in my eyes, me and my mother.

We are living the most difficult suffering here in northern Gaza.

I will tell you some of our suffering

1.We do not find daily food as there is only bread due to the closure of the crossings in Gaza

2.There are some canned foods like beans that are expensive due to scarcity.

3.They are trying to displace us from Gaza every day. I have left my house several times and it is badly damaged.

4.My father cannot reach us, he is besieged in southern Gaza, and my sisters and I have no one to support us except my mother, and she cannot.

5.My father is sitting in a torn tent, suffering from the cold of winter and the lack of winter clothes.

6.We need more than $100 a day to buy a little food. And a little firewood for heating and cooking. And charging the lighting battery as there has been no electricity for more than a year

7. My mother needs treatment for her feet on a weekly basis for $70.

She has osteoporosis, cartilage fragility and salt deposition.

This is a small part of our suffering. Please plant hope in our hearts and give us a chance by donating to us to alleviate our suffering.

Donation Link

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #250 )✅️

@thatdiabolicalfeminist @catgirlcadaver @flor4zul @majortomwaits @strangeauthor

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@pollackpatrol @lesbianboyfriend @leolaroot @clementine-kesh @shadow-banned-the-hedgehog

@txttletale @plomegranate @intersectionalpraxis @post-brahminism @mortalityplays

@whompthatsucker1981 @nerves-nebula @augustheart @woodwool @malscare

@ptsilencedhill @ihavegaysex42069 @beesmygod @wotsukai @t-800

@solarpunkcast @plum-soup @fiomeras @fithragaer @vaporize-employers

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@wellwaterhysteria @el-shab-hussein @nabulsi @irhabiya @stuckinapril @appsa @brutaliakhoa @buttercuparry @Everyone💔😴

[drgnflyteabox]

can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

<3

[ivyues]

Passionate Attacks: Stray Kids' reactions to their S/O suddenly kissing them

Bang Chan

You quietly entered the apartment after a long day, not saying a word as you made your way towards him. Without warning, you straddled his lap, your hands gliding over his chest and shoulders, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. His warmth was intoxicating, and before he could react, you pressed your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

Chris gasped in surprise, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist. “Someone’s been missing me,” he murmured against your lips, soft giggles escaping him. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked up at you, but his teasing tone faltered when you leaned in again, kissing him slowly and teasingly, your lips brushing lightly against his while your hands roamed down to his arms, feeling the strength in them before moving back to his chest.

He let out a soft sigh, his hand sliding to your back as he pulled you closer, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

“You know you don’t have to do all this to get my attention, right?” he whispered playfully, his voice low and affectionate.

You could feel his heartbeat quicken under your touch, mirroring your own, as the kiss deepened and he surrendered completely to your fiery welcome.

Lee Know

Lee Know was lying on the couch when you entered the room, your silent presence catching his attention as he glanced up from his phone. Before he could say anything, you pounced, straddling him and pressing your lips to his in a deep, passionate kiss. Your hands wandered over his chest and shoulders.

“Whoa, whoa,” Lee Know murmured, his eyes wide with surprise as his hands shot up to quickly catch your wrists, pulling them securely away from his body. A smirk tugged at his lips as he effortlessly shifted, flipping you over so you were lying on your back, your hair spreading out like a halo against the couch. He pinned your wrists down beside your head, his body hovering just above yours.

“Getting a little too excited there, honey?” he teased, his voice low and velvety as he leaned in, his lips just a breath away from yours. “You think you can just take control like that?”

You stared up at him, your chest rising and falling against his. Holding his intense gaze, a grin spread across your face as you leaned up to capture his lips again.

He chuckled at your eagerness, the sound warm and teasing, but this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, his grip on your wrists softened, his lips moving against yours in a kiss that was every bit as consuming as yours had been.

Changbin

Changbin had been sitting by the kitchen counter, focused on something on his laptop when you walked in, completely silent. Before he could react, you turned him around, grabbed his face and kissed him deeply as you climbed into his lap. Your hands pressed firmly against his chest, your fingers slipping beneath the collar of his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin.

He froze for a moment, his eyes wide in surprise, before a grin spread across his face. “Well, this is a nice surprise,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your back to steady you both on the stool. “You’re really not gonna make this easy for me, huh?”

You pulled back briefly, your breath mingling with his as your half-lidded eyes met his teasing gaze. “I missed you,” you whispered, your voice soft and filled with affection.

He didn’t hesitate this time, pulling you into another kiss, this one even deeper and more heated. Your arms wrapped fully around his shoulders, your legs encircling his waist as you pressed your body against his, closing any remaining space. His fingers trailed up your back, his touch firm and possessive as he held you close, completely consumed by the moment.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin was lounging on the couch, phone in hand, when he noticed you walking towards him. He raised an eyebrow at your silence. “What’s up?” he asked, but before he could say more, you grabbed his collar and kissed him passionately, pushing him back against the cushions.

His eyes widened, and he gasped dramatically. “Oh my God! Are you trying to murder me?” His free hand clutched his chest as though you’d struck him, but his other hand instinctively settled on your waist, holding you close. “What is this ambush?” he asked, voice full of mock outrage, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

Despite his theatrics, Hyunjin quickly melted into the moment, his grip tightening as he deepened the kiss. The phone in his hand slipped to the floor, forgotten, as he shifted to pull you fully onto his lap. His earlier playfulness softened into something tender yet intense, his lips moving against yours with fervor.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured between kisses, his voice low and breathless now. His thumb brushed your cheek, his other hand sliding up your back as he pulled you closer. The fire in his gaze made your heart race as he grinned. “I live for this kind of passion with you.”

Han

Han was sitting sideways against the armrest of the couch, focused on his notebook as he scribbled away at some lyrics, completely unaware of how attractive he looked with his tousled hair and furrowed brows. 

You couldn’t resist. You approached him quietly and without a word, you cupped his face and kissed him passionately.

His eyes went wide in shock – like boba balls – his entire body stiffened. “W-Wait, what—?” Before he could process what had just happened, he lost his balance and tumbled backward onto the couch, his notebook flying out of his hands.

“Oh my God, are you okay?!” you gasped, rushing to his side, immediately hovering over him, your hands reaching out as if to make sure he was all in one piece.

Han blinked up at you, his face bright red, still frozen in shock. Then, his lips curled into a flustered smile as he rubbed his face. “Babe, don’t give me a heart attack like that!”, his voice a mix of playful teasing and surprise.  His wide eyes softened, and he chuckled nervously, clearly still trying to regain his composure.

You breathed a sigh of relief and gently sat next to him on the couch. Han grinned at you, pulling you closer as he murmured, “Next time, just... warn me before you make me fall for you like that again.”

(if you didn't know -> clips of han falling over X X)

Felix

You came home to find Felix lounging on the couch, a soft smile on his face as he looked up at you. Without warning, you stepped forward, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his, pushing him back against the couch as you kissed him passionately, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest.

As your fingers lightly brushed over his t-shirt, feeling the muscles beneath, Felix froze for a moment, his face turning a bright shade of pink. His breath hitched as he tried to process what had just happened. His hands hesitantly reached up, cupping your face gently, unsure of what to do but not pulling away.

“W-Wait, babe,” he stammered, his voice soft but filled with surprise. He pulled away slightly to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling as he blinked up at you. “I didn’t expect this… Are you okay?” His deep voice made you shudder, and as your nails lightly scratched over his t-shirt, you could feel the slight tension in his muscles.

Felix’s eyes sparkled with affection, his face still flushed as he pulled you closer. His voice was a bit breathless, but there was an undeniable warmth in his tone. “But, um… don’t stop, though…” he murmured, his hands gently sliding around your back, pulling you in even tighter.

Seungmin

Seungmin was sitting on the couch, absorbed in a book, when you quietly entered the room. Without saying a word, you walked over and placed your hands gently on his shoulders, leaning down to kiss him deeply and without hesitation.

He froze for a moment, then pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with teasing amusement. “What’s this, hmm? Didn’t even greet me first?” he said, smirking as his hands found their way to your waist. “You know, it’s very rude to interrupt someone while they’re reading. I could’ve lost my page!”

Ignoring his playful complaint, you leaned in again, trying to recapture his lips. But this time, he dodged, tilting his head to the side with a sly grin.

“Oh no, not so fast,” he chuckled, holding you back just enough to keep you from closing the distance.

You rolled your eyes and grinned, playfully tugging at his shirt. His laughter softened as he finally gave in, cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss, this one slower, but no less intense.

I.N

You walked into the living room, spotting I.N scrolling through his phone, completely unaware of your presence. His focus was so intense that he didn’t even look up when you entered. Without saying a word, you swiftly crossed the room and pushed him gently but firmly against the wall. His phone slipped from his hand, landing on the couch as you cupped his face and kissed him passionately.

His eyes went wide in shock, a soft gasp escaping him as your hands slid down to his shoulders, feeling the muscles of his shoulders and arms. He froze for a moment, his heart racing, but as you pulled him closer, his lips began to move with yours, his hands instinctively finding their way to your waist.

“Woah, no warning?” he laughed breathlessly when you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your noses still touching. “You can’t just attack me like that.”

You smirked, leaning in to kiss him again. His initial surprise melted into something more playful, his lips curling into a mischievous grin as he let out a soft chuckle. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding into the back pocket of your jeans, pulling you even closer to him as he deepened the connection.

masterlist

[flowersforbucky]

devil's in the backseat

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.7k

summary/prompt: a night at coney island with your friends turns out much differently than expected.

or getting fucked in front of a mirror

author's note: this is my first halloween fic!! this was so much fun to write. if you've read haunting adeline, then you know exactly what inspired the mirror maze scene! also disclaimer i have never been to coney island so if any of this is inaccurate then just pretend ok it's fiction :))

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only content, sex in a public setting, mirror sex, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, friends to lovers, romanogers makes an appearance! kind of grumpy!reader, protective bucky, random men being creepy, language, reader is afab, she/her pronouns, reader pov, no use of y/n, porn with a little plot, fluff

my masterlist

“I can't fucking believe I let you talk me into wearing this.”

You tug the tight, cherry red colored velvet fabric of the babydoll dress in place for the dozenth time since arriving at Coney Island.

“What? You look hot. Plus, our costumes go great together.”

Natasha's costume mirrors your own - except hers is a pearlescent white and instead of a pitchfork and horns, she dons angel wings and a halo.

“I don't feel hot. I feel cold. It's fifty degrees and the sun hasn't even set yet.” If it wasn't for the black thigh high boots that cover the majority of your legs, you'd be shivering in the chilly late October weather.

“It's not my fault that you put off getting a costume until the last minute and had to pick through what little was left at Spirit Halloween,” she mumbles, passing you one of the cups of apple cider that the cashier hands to her. You gladly accept, sucking down the hot liquid in hopes that it will warm you from the inside.

Her phone dings as the two of you walk towards the rides. “It's Steve,” she informs you as she reads the text message. “They just got here,” she looks back up at you with a smirk on her face and a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Bucky decided to come with them.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly hating your borderline provocative costume even more.

“I thought he was leaving for a job in Denver this evening?”

It's not that you didn't want to see Bucky. It's that you didn't want to see Bucky dressed like this. As if you don't already get flustered around him when you're dressed in normal, everyday clothing. The hem of your dress barely conceals the curve of your ass and your tits are practically spilling over the low neckline.

“Guess it's been postponed,” she shrugs, nudging you with her shoulder.

The two of you turn to look in the opposite direction when a familiar voice calls your names. You see Steve, Sam, and Bucky walking towards you. Steve is dressed as a pirate, eyepatch and all. Sam wears a cowboy costume with an oversized hat, concealing the upper half of his face entirely.

And Bucky? Bucky wears jeans and a navy blue Henley.

Yeah, you're regretting any of your life choices that lead up to this moment.

“Well, well, well,” Sam drawls as he tips his hat back enough to take in yours and Natasha’s outfits. “Look what we have here. An angel and a devil. Have you two already entered the costume contest for best duo or should I go add your names?”

“You wouldn't dare,” you scold him. Natasha just laughs, falling into Steve’s embrace as he plants a kiss to her forehead.

“We should, you know,” Natasha agrees. “I think we'd have a pretty good shot at winning.”

“Yeah, right,” you retort, looking around at some of the more elaborate, creative costumes that many of the strangers around you are sporting. You notice a man and woman dressed as Beetlejuice and Lydia Deetz and know that you and Nat wouldn't stand a chance in a costume contest. “And what about you?” You acknowledge Bucky, your eyes skimming up and down his civilian clothes. “Didn't have time to pull together a costume?”

He smirks, his eyes trailing up your figure for a heated moment before he responds. “I'll have you know that I am in costume, actually.”

Steve and Sam both snort in laughter.

“Oh yeah? And what are you supposed to be, exactly?”

He tugs up the sleeve of his shirt, showing off the shiny vibranium that is his left arm.

“I'm the Winter Soldier,” he says with a smug grin. “Obviously.”

“How creative,” you praise sarcastically.

“Cut me some slack,” he feigns insult. “I was supposed to be halfway to Colorado right now. I didn't have time to pull together anything too cute.” His eyes flicker to your dress and boots at the word cute. If anyone else notices, they say nothing.

“What are we doing just standing around here?” Natasha exclaims, tugging Steve in the direction of the rides and games. “I want to ride every ride and eat funnel cake.”

They race ahead of the rest of you, with Sam close behind, leaving you and Bucky to fall into step beside each other.

“So, why did your mission get postponed?” You ask casually, trying to fight down the nerves that threaten to bubble over every time you're alone with him.

“Beats me,” he shrugs. “Fury didn't give much of an explanation. I got the text as I was loading my bags into the car to head out.”

“That's annoying,” you mumble, swallowing the remnants of your hot apple cider. “I'm sorry,” you tell him with a glance in his direction. “I'm sure it was for a good reason.”

He shrugs. “I'm here, so I can't be too mad about it.”

Before you can overthink exactly what he means by that, you're both brought to a halt when a jolly looking man in a Ghostbusters costume steps directly in front of you, blocking your path.

“This little devil looks like she needs a giant sloth!” He exclaims, gesturing towards the prizes hanging above the balloon darts station next to you.

“Oh, no,” you start. “That’s okay–”

“Come on!” The red-faced vendor insists, looking at Bucky. “Don't you want to win your girl a giant sloth? Perhaps a giant giraffe? If she was mine, I'd be winning her any prize she wants. I'll give you five throws for ten doll–”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky relents, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. You notice a faint hint of pink blooms along the apples of his cheeks, but he doesn't correct the man when he calls you his girl. “You've worn me down,” he sighs as he shoves a crumpled ten dollar bill into the man's hand.

The man accepts the money with a satisfied, toothy grin and hands Bucky five darts.

“If you get three out of the five throws, you can choose a prize from here,” the man gestures towards a section of smaller prizes. “And if you get all five throws, you can choose–”

The man is cut off by the sharp popping sound of a balloon, and then a second, and a third, until all five darts have been impaled on the board in a consecutive line in a matter of seconds.

“She'll take the bunny,” Bucky tells him before he can erase the stunned look off of his face. He points to a large, flop-eared purple bunny hanging from the upper row of prizes.

Unlike the vendor, you aren't shocked by his perfect aim at all. Anyone who knows Bucky would have known that he wouldn't miss a single shot. You are shocked, however, that he chose the bunny without even asking which prize you want.

The man in the Ghostbusters costume grabs the bunny and hands it to you, surprise still etched on his face. He mumbles a quick goodnight before he's moving onto the next people approaching the stand.

“How did you know I'd want the bunny?” You ask Bucky, trying to juggle the stuffed animal, your empty cup of cider, and your pitchfork all in your arms.

“You like bunnies, right? It was an educated guess.” He shrugs, moving through a thick crowd of people away from the game stations. “Here, let me carry it for you,” he offers when he notices the large stuffed animal is obstructing your vision. You hand it over to him and he tucks it underneath his metal arm.

“Thank you,” you tell him, your cheeks heating at the realization that he'd remembered such an inconsequential piece of information about you. You do like bunnies. The cold night air suddenly feels a lot more balmy.

“I'm - uh - I'm going to find a trash can real quick,” you say as you wiggle the empty cup in your hand. Truthfully, you just need a moment to collect yourself.

You begin walking in the opposite direction before he can reply, your eyes scanning the throng of people for a garbage can.

So what if he knows that you like bunnies? It's a pretty trivial fact that probably means nothing. You know that Natasha’s favorite animal is flamingos - because she's your friend. It's normal for friends to know things that their friends like.

Right? Right.

“I like that outfit a whole lot, baby. But I think you'd look even cuter in just the boots and those horns.”

You're so lost in your internal monologue that you don't even notice two men closing in on you as you toss the empty cup into a trash can. Unlike most of the people here tonight, neither of them are in costumes. They stand so close to you that you can smell booze on their breath.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan as you attempt to walk away, but they've effectively blocked you between their bodies and the large garbage can behind you. Wicked grins grow on their faces as you realize that you can't get by them.

“Look, I don’t have the patience for this tonight. Get out of my fucking way.”

“Or what?” One of them taunts. “You'll use that little pitchfork on us? Jokes on you, because we're into that.”

“What if I used it on you?” A familiar voice comes from behind them. “Would you still like that?”

Before they can even turn around to identify the voice, Bucky is pulling him back by the hood of his sweatshirt and throwing him on the ground with little to no effort. The other one attempts to stumble away as Bucky turns his attention to him.

He still has your bunny clutched in his flesh hand - despite the seriousness of the situation, you have to bite your lip to keep from smirking at the sight. You don't know of anyone who could be quite as intimidating while holding a stuffed purple bunny.

“What about you?” Bucky asks, towering over the guy by half a foot. “You got anything you wanna say?”

“I - no - we didn't know she was with someone,” he half slurs, half stutters out. His gaze flickers to Bucky's vibranium hand. The man on the ground manages to stand back up, following after his friend.

“Now you know,” Bucky calls after them as they quickly hobble away.

“I had that handled, you know,” you tell Bucky with a nod towards your pitchfork. “But thank you, anyway. Really.”

He places a gentle but firm grasp on the top of your arms and begins to tug you in the opposite direction, guiding you through the small crowd that had stopped to witness the altercation.

“I have no doubt about that,” he sighs, releasing his grip on you when the two of you are a reasonable distance away. “But I also don't doubt that you handling it would have drawn even more attention.”

He's right. If he hadn't stepped in, your method of handling it would have been even more dramatic.

“They would have deserved it,” you mumble. “I knew I shouldn't have worn this stupid costume.”

“They definitely would have deserved it,” he agrees. “And your costume isn't stupid. You should be able to wear any costume you like without getting harassed by drunk assholes.”

The two of you approach the ferris wheel as it comes to a slow stop, a couple getting out of one of the cars. You and Bucky flash your wristbands to the operator, who offers to hold your pitchfork for you while you’re on the ride.

“Besides,” he continues as you sit down next to each other in the car, the operator locking the gate in place. “I happen to like your costume. A lot.” He turns his head to you, his gaze trailing from the tops of your thigh high boots and up to the felt horns that adorn your head.

There's a shift in energy as the ferris wheel suddenly comes to life, sending you sliding across the limited space of the metal bench seat and right up against him.

“Oh, yeah?” You tease with your face a few inches from his. Close enough to see your reflection in his irises. “Is that why two different people have implied that I'm yours tonight and you haven't corrected either of them?”

“Your costume had nothing to do with that. I wouldn't have corrected them even if you were dressed as a giant banana,” he says, his tone and face both serious. “Does it bother you that I didn't correct them?”

“No,” you answer automatically - eagerly. You should feel embarrassed, but with the way he's looking at you, and how good it feels to be pressed so snug against him, you can't find it within yourself to care. “I didn't correct them either,” you point out.

The ferris wheel comes to a stop to let new people get on when your cart reaches the peak.

“And why is that?” he asks lowly. If you weren't sitting so close to him, you wouldn't have been able to hear him over the obnoxiously loud carnival music that pours from speakers in between the ferris wheel's carts.

He wraps his metal arm around your shoulders, pulling you further into him.

“Because I liked the sound of it,” you answer honestly. Your voice quivers - from nerves, or from a gust of wind that sways the pod still perching at the top of the wheel.

“Is that right?” he murmurs. He places his flesh hand on the exposed skin of your thigh - just above the top of your boot and just under the hem of your dress. His fingertips rest near the crack between your thighs. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart - not much, but enough for him to smirk at your body's automatic response to his touch.

“You like the sound of being my girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I do. Is that okay with you?”

He chuckles, his fingers inching further up your thigh. You spread your legs open further, giving him the go ahead to go as high as he wants. He stops when he reaches the apex of your thighs, just an inch away from the cloth of your panties. He applies pressure with his fingertips, his short nails digging into the sensitive flesh and making you clench your legs around his hand.

“That depends,” he contemplates. “Are you my girl?”

You open your mouth to answer when the sensation of his index finger grazing the fabric that covers your cunt makes you forget how to speak. You sit there with your mouth agape as he hooks a finger into the cotton panties.

He eases a finger through your folds, lubricating it in your slick before adding a second finger and massaging the pads of them over your sensitive clit.

“Feels like you're my girl.”

You become vaguely aware of the fact that the ride is now in motion once more, heading back down to the ground, when Bucky places the stuffed bunny on your lap in an effort to conceal what is happening in the cart that you and him share.

He alternates between slow, languid circles and quick strokes against your clit as the ferris wheel makes its way down and then back up again. You can feel yourself soaking your underwear as the world dizzies around you. You hide your face in Bucky's neck to conceal the pleasure written across your face.

You're seconds away from coming against his fingers, the pressure in your belly building to a climax, when he pulls away and tugs your dress into place. Your gaze snaps up to his, shooting daggers, as the ride comes to a slow stop. He looks back at you with an amused smirk as the operator approaches the cart to unlock the gate.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he tells you in a strained voice as he snatches the bunny back from you. “After you,” he motions with his head as the operator holds the gate open for you.

Stunned and speechless at what just happened, you stumble out of the cart and down the stairs to the ride's exit with Bucky behind you - both of you completely forgetting about your pitchfork. You can't help but snort a laugh at the position of the large stuffed animal - directly over Bucky’s crotch.

“Real discreet,” you tell him, glancing down at the bunny and then back up to the semi-pained expression on his face.

“I have to admit, right now this thing is worth every penny that I spent on it,” he sighs, and then removes one hand from the bunny to place it on your lower back. “Follow me,” he instructs with a smirk.

He guides you through the crowd and you follow him without question, just trying to ignore the wet ache between your legs.

You shoot him a quizzical look when you arrive at the house of mirrors. You haven't been in a mirror maze since you'd gotten lost in one at ten years old.

There's an attendant sitting in a chair outside of the entrance who unenthusiastically greets the two of you. Bucky reaches into his pocket, digging out his wallet for the second time that evening. He pulls out a hundred dollar bill and flashes it at the elderly man smoking a Pall Mall.

“Take this and don't let anyone else in until we come out,” Bucky tells him before dragging you into the attraction. You and the gray haired man both go wide eyed.

“What was that?” you cackle as the door slams to a close behind you. Bucky doesn't answer, just grabs one of your hands in his and begins guiding you through the maze of mirrors as if he's been here a hundred times.

The entire place is lit by bright, neon red lights that only aid in further confusing your sense of direction. Bucky doesn’t seem phased in the slightest, finally coming to a stop after a few minutes of maneuvering through the endless mirrors.

“You never answered me, you know,” he says as he drops your bunny to the floor. “When I asked if you're my girl.” He smirks at you, stepping closer to you and backing you against the mirror behind you.

“You just paid that man a hundred dollars to get me alone,” you jab as you pull him to you by the front of his Henley. “I think it's safe to say that I am.”

He smiles as you pull him down to you, crushing your lips to his. His hands trail down your back until they land where your thighs meet the curve of your ass cheeks. You release months worth of tension into the kiss, sweeping your tongue along the swell of his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth the second that he parts his lips for you. He groans into the kiss, kneading the globes of your ass with his fingers. You can feel a prominent bulge through his jeans against your stomach.

Adrenaline begins to kick in when he pulls away, looking down at you with lust blown pupils. He sinks to the floor below you, kneeling in front of your cunt as he raises your dress around your waist and tugs your panties down your legs and over your boots. He slips them into his back pocket before hiking one of your legs across his shoulder.

You can already feel your juices leaking down your inner thighs before his mouth makes contact with you. When he does, you lean your head back against the glass behind you in pleasure.

He sucks your clit between his kiss-swollen lips with an obscene pop before running his tongue down your folds. He plunges his tongue inside you and you grind yourself against his face, chasing the release that you were seconds away from on the ferris wheel.

He moans at the taste of you and the vibration has your walls clenching around his tongue. You ride out your orgasm on his face, the neon red lights blurring and spinning around you.

Despite the fact that your legs feel like jelly, you pull him up to you as soon as you're able to form a coherent thought. You clumsily paw at the button of his pants and his zipper, and he shoves both his jeans and boxers down over his ass, just far enough to free his cock.

He places both of his hands just under your armpits and lifts you as you instinctively lock your legs around his hips.

The head of his cock nudges your wet folds, your juices coating his length before he nudges it inside you.

You feel full before he's even halfway in you. Your walls constrict around him and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip as he adjusts to the sensation of you.

“Fuck, that's tight. You're perfect,” he grunts as he sheaths the rest of his length into you. You let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a gasp.

He has total control as he cradles you between his body and the cold, hard mirror behind you. He sets a harsh pace, his head ramming against your cervix at the sweetest angle from his position beneath you.

He manages to support you with the strength of only his vibranium arm as he brings his flesh hand between your bodies, once again massaging your clit in rapid circles as he fucks up into you.

You cum around his length in a shockingly short amount of time, digging your teeth into the flesh of his neck as he follows after you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum.

You stay in the same position after you've both reached your climax, panting against one another in the claustrophobic feeling space.

“We should probably go find our friends,” you say breathlessly with a kiss to the side of his face. “Sam's probably getting sick of being a third wheel.”

He pulls out of you, his cum running down your thighs and ass cheeks. He gently lowers you back down to the ground as he begins to tuck himself back into his pants.

He laughs, cupping your face in his hands as he pulls your lips to his once again.

“If he hates being a third wheel, just imagine how much he's going to hate being a fifth wheel.”