#and this man said with his full chest that it was a good look for me

[inkdrinkerworld]

Courting

Synopsis: Bucky is a man from a different time. It shows when you start ‘going steady’ and honestly, you love it. Alternatively; Bucky uses 40’s dating etiquette to woo you, and surprises you with a modern turn of phrase.

cw: it’s set in a vague timeline where it’s just before cabnw but also during fatws so no thunderbolts spoilers! Bucky is a FLIRT, reader is a little shy, anxiety representation, lots of casual getting to know you, going on a date flirting, Bucky’s serious about reader tho!

word count: 4.4k

Bucky Barnes prides himself on being able to court a woman. He really does. He knows all the rules, knows all the things to say, and it doesn’t hurt that he can flirt his way through any conversation.

You and Bucky met at the Smithsonian when Bucky was missing Steve a little too much and popped in just to get a glimpse of his best friend again.

You were by the Isaiah Bradley display, reading through before murmuring under your breath, “Those poor men.”

Bucky hadn’t meant to eavesdrop like that, but there was so much concern in your voice and he had to say something lest you think they all suffered — looking back, maybe he wasn’t the best person to break that news to you.

“We didn’t all suffer so bad.”

You had gasped when you noticed him, hand to your chest. “You’re Bucky Barnes,” you weigh your words before adding, “Steve’s best friend.”

That alone had won him over. You didn’t bring up the Winter Soldier, or that Bucky was as traumatised as super soldiers went. Just that he was Steve’s best friend.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “This your first time at the Smithsonian?”

You shake your head, a little heat flushing up your cheeks. “I come every couple of weeks, to see if they have any new stuff to add to your plaques. It’s kinda messed up what they did to all of you.”

Bucky smiles, shaking his head. It is messed up, he knows that. All the super soldiers besides John Walker know how messed up it was. “We came out alright, made it to the 21st century after all.”

You tilt your head to the side, “I guess that’s true.”

Bucky’s eyes light up. “Made it this far to meet pretty girls too.”

Your cheeks flame and Bucky chuckles, you chat a bit more before he gives you his number.

It takes you two days to text him. You’d been overthinking it, if you should or shouldn’t. In the end, if he ignored you at least you’d have tried.

It turns out Bucky didn’t give you his number just to be polite, because he answered your text immediately.

The first time he had used his courting experience was when he’d made it a point to establish the fact that he wanted to take you out every second Friday of the month.

He had it in his head that the effort had to be shown and then followed through the entire time and after two days, he was determined to show you that he was serious.

‘I’m free every other Friday, if that’s good with you doll.’

You had responded four minutes later after looking at your phone in shock and a little bit of bewilderment, when was the last time a man was so forward but not in a pushy way?

‘It’s perfect as long as work doesn’t bleed into my weekends’

From there Bucky had planned three of the dates meticulously, going over places and ideas in his head until he’d settled on the best three according to himself.

The first date was at a new diner near his apartment, one that Sam said did really good milkshakes and Bucky hadn’t been able to let the idea go.

“It’s nothing too fancy, but Sam said it’s a good spot.”

You’d worn a pretty skirt and blouse, and Bucky had worn a grey henley and jeans.

“You look gorgeous,” Bucky was full of compliments as you’d learn as the afternoon went on. He dished them out easily and most of the time you pretended not to hear him because he had a sort of pleased look on his face every time you stammered to keep the conversation going, and that in itself had in your stomach in knots.

He even brought you a bouquet of red tulips which had sat beside you on the sticky diner table all day.

“Oh they have milkshakes!” You say excitedly when you catch a server walking past.

Bucky’s heart sores. God bless the forties for making that a thing.

“Wanna try one?”

You look up at him, eyes brimming with hopefulness, “Will we do the cheesy sharing from the same cup?”

Bucky leans back in the booth seat, blue eyes boring into you. “And the same straw if you really want to, doll.”

He’s so fucking smooth, because you can’t do anything but nod now that his gaze is fixed on you.

Deciding what milkshake had taken nearly five minutes, back and forth between what was a classic flavor and why strawberry was definitely not good (Bucky was very offended) and then settling on a Shamrock Shake even though St. Patrick’s day had long passed.

Sharing the milkshake sitting across from each other was more intimate than you had expected it to be, (you hadn’t ended up using one straw but just the eye contact was enough to fluster you). Bucky walked you to your car after paying for dinner, very offended that you tried to pay half of the bill, and opened the door for you. When you had gotten in, he leant a little into your space, “Did you have a good time, doll?”

Your heart pounds. You had a great time, Bucky was easy to be around, even with your shyness.

“I did, thank you Bucky. Did you?”

He smiled, “Don’t see how I couldn’t with you as company.” In your sputtering for an answer Bucky’s heart beat a little faster, you were the cutest thing ever.

“Any opposition to a gala for our next date?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not the biggest fan of crowds but I don’t see why it couldn’t be fun. Is it for the new Captain America thing?”

Bucky smiles, “I’ll text you the details. Drive safe, doll.”

The gala was fun even if a little anxiety inducing when you note the number of people there.

Bucky’s good though, he doesn’t give you a moment alone to feel that anxiety or have anyone come up to you to ask you a million questions.

It’s a veteran gala and Bucky didn’t want to go through that alone because he was getting another medal post Thanos; not that he really wanted it.

That night, as you sat beside him at one of the tables, it was hard to ignore the feel of his hand grasping your ankle and stroking it.

His palm is warm against your skin but you can feel the twitch in his fingers.

“We can leave early if you really don’t want to get it, Bucky.”

He turns to you with a smile, his cheeks a little warm when you meet his eyes. “No, I can handle it, doll.”

You tut, shaking your head. “Yeah but you look like you’re gonna pass out waiting for them to call your name.”

He rolls his eyes, “I do not.” He can actually feel the acid churning in his stomach.

In the end, the ‘medal’ is Bucky partially funding a veteran support group in honor of his friend Sam Wilson, who’s the new Captain America, and Steve Rogers. He much prefers that sort of medal.

It was only after Bucky had gotten you home from the gala that you noticed the slip of paper in your clutch.

It had the name of the diner you and Bucky had gone to a week and a half ago, but on the backside of the paper was his semi messy scrawl.

You looked gorgeous tonight. Purple’s definitely your colour, doll. I know it’s only the second date, but you’re all I think about most days. I wanna see you again, but I know tonight was a lot with all those people. Sleep well, doll. Dream of me if you’d like.

Yours,

James.

That had made you smile so hard your cheeks ached. He signed it with his actual name, not the cute nickname he got so many years ago, his real, government name and that was not something that went unnoticed by you.

Immediately you changed his name in your phone to James with a little heart next to it.

You’re not really sure you’re sold on Bucky’s affections towards you, till the third date when Bucky pulls up to your apartment with another bouquet of flowers, peonies this time in pretty pinks and soft yellows.

“Bucky, these are gorgeous!” You had rushed back into your house to add them to the vase with the other flowers he had dropped off for you on your doorstep last week.

You can hear him chuckling in your doorway as you flit about.

“Was there any traffic?” you asked over the sound of your tap filling the vase.

“Not too much, but it is lunchtime on a Saturday.”

You had mentioned to Bucky a little bit ago that there was a perfect spot in the park near your house for a picnic now that New York had finally warmed up, and the next text you had received was Bucky asking if you had any nut allergies.

It wasn’t your usual date day, but Bucky had pleaded and begged just a little (although he really hadn’t had to), and had even sent you a photo of the most gorgeous picnic blanket and you were agreeing faster than anything.

“I’m ready to go now.” Seeing Bucky there leaning in the archway of your kitchen makes you feel so many things that you can’t help it when you lean up and kiss just under his jaw before walking towards your door after snagging your picnic basket from on the counter.

“Coming, Bucky?”

He only shakes his head, some of his hair falling into his eyes as he follows behind you. You swear you hear him mutter, “Not a shy thing at all,” but you don’t say anything because your nerve has worn off and you actually can’t believe you really kissed his cheek.

Bucky hadn’t spared an expense on your picnic. He had gotten peaches, plums, two different cheeses, apples, grapes (black ones; your favourite) and even a bottle of sparkling wine.

You had brought sandwiches and salt and vinegar potato chips (those became Bucky’s new favourites), a sketchbook and your camera.

“Were picnics something you did a lot?” you ask Bucky as he makes you a plate - crackers, cheese, some of the fruit and half the sandwich you packets.

Bucky squints at you as he slices a wedge of the plum free from the stone. “If it was, would you be jealous, doll?”

You shake your head, some of the peach juice dribbling down your wrist. Bucky’s quick but gentle as he thumbs it away and presses his thumb to his lips. You’re so grateful that his hands aren’t on you to feel how fast your pulse hammers.

“I’m just curious what the dating customs of the 40’s looked like.” It’s a miracle your voice remains even.

Bucky nods like he doesn’t really believe you. “I think I went on one, but there was never really a good time for more.”

You wince, you had forgotten that he’d gotten drafted.

Your reaction makes Bucky laugh, “I’m glad I get to find out if I really like them now though. There’s a lot more to enjoy about picnics now without all the smog.”

His teeth snap through the wedge of the plum before he continues, “I can see my date better, which feels like an incredible plus.”

Damn Bucky’s flirting.

You spend all evening at the park, and it’s so fun because Bucky poses for some of your pictures and then takes some of you and when you pose for a few together and Bucky stares at you there’s a sort of stillness that overcomes you.

His eyes bore into yours, the blue of them stopping you where your finger is poised over the button to snap the photo.

“Take the photo doll,” he whispers, his lips hovering near yours as he reaches up and presses your finger down just before leaning all the way in, pressing your lips together.

Bucky’s quick to take the camera from your hand after, setting it on the blanket and cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss.

It’s not too long, but it’s more than a peck and when he pulls away you can barely open your eyes.

“Was that okay?” Bucky whispers, the hand still cupping your face warm where it rests.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” his laugh rocks you as you press your forehead into his shoulder. “I don’t think you were really frozen in ice all that time, James Barnes.”

Bucky cups the back of your head as his laughs die down. “Whatever you want to believe, honey.”

Bucky gets to your house just after sunset, and you let him walk you to your front door. You don’t really want the date to end, but you’re tired and you have to imagine so is he.

“I had a really nice evening, Bucky.”

He smiles, a hand on your lower back as he stands in front of you. “So did I,” you turn to open the door but he stops you.

“I’ve gotta go out of town for a little bit, so we’re gonna have to rain check next Friday’s date.”

You hold onto the sleeve of his Henley before he can step back, “Is everything alright?”

Bucky nods, “Yeah just some stuff I have to deal with.”

“Winter soldier stuff?” You nearly whisper the words, not wanting to upset Bucky. He only nods with a soft smile. “Be careful okay?”

“You don’t want to be my nurse if I get hurt, doll? That’s harsh.”

You laugh, shaking your head at him. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Bucky’s chest aches at your care for him. It’s been a long while since he’s been given that kind of affection.

“I’ll be careful, doll.”

“Good.”

Bucky leans in and presses a kiss just at the corner of your mouth, “Goodnight doll, lock your doors.” He reminds you like you’re not a woman in New York City, but it still makes you smile and your chest goes a little gooey.

Bucky doesn’t move from your doorstep till he hears your locks click into place.

-

Bucky’s been gone for a week and a half already and you can’t help but miss him.

You’ve been chatting back and forth and you’ve even started sending him songs to listen to. He’s got a very limited list of favourites that you’ve made it your mission to resolve.

You find another note in your handbag when you decided against texting Bucky and cleaned your cupboards instead.

It was in your bag from the picnic date, and you smiled when you noticed his handwriting on another receipt from the grocery where he got the cheese.

I hope you find this when I’m gone and you’re missing me; I know you are, doll, it’s okay.

I miss you too and I haven’t left yet.

When I get back I’ll make it up to you, I swear. Maybe we’ll go somewhere quiet again? Or I saw they’re reopening one of those antique places with all those retro trinkets; I could show what I used to have at home. Show you what I prefer now.

Keep locking your doors, honey. I should send you new flowers, the old ones will be dead soon.

Yours,

James.

Bucky’s very good at these, these little notes that leave you smiling and giddy like a fool.

You pull out your phone, you have to text him now.

I got your note. What was your favourite ‘trinket’?

Bucky answers only three minutes later.

My sister used to have a silver jewellery box that I had the pleasure of filling every month.

You smile at that, he’s always been a provider it seems.

Another chime comes from your phone.

We also had a gramophone that played the clearest music I’ve ever heard.

You roll your eyes.

You’re such an old man.

I’m not offended, doll. A pretty girl I’m seeing told me recently I’m not old at all.

Even miles away he’s got you grinning like an idiot with a racing pulse.

You can’t say anything to that and your thoughts take you to what a perfect gentleman he’s been to you. Bucky opens your doors, drives you home and waits till you get into your house before driving off. You think you might be falling for him, and rapidly.

He’s still gone by Monday and you’re missing him hard, only for the girls you work with to giggle before coming to find you.

“These were dropped for you,” they hand you a huge bouquet of red and white tube roses and a card.

It’s not Bucky’s handwriting but it’s from him,

Sorry I’m still not back, doll. I should just be gone for another day. Don’t miss me too much, yeah? I need a few kisses when I get back to make up for all this time away. I listened to that song you recommended, it was good. How do I make a playlist?

Yours,

James.

The note had you blushing and extremely flustered. Your coworkers noticed it immediately.

“Are you two going steady?”

You regret telling them who you’d been going out with. When they leave, you’re stuck with the realisation of how different Bucky is to the men you’ve dated before.

It’s a small thing, but you hardly think any of them got you flowers as consistently as he does, and you don’t think you’ve ever received such thoughtful bouquets.

You called Bucky when you got home, happy to hear his voice.

“Thank you for the flowers, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome, doll.”

You have the bouquet from today on your bedside table and smile when you spot it after changing into your pajamas.

“You caused quite a scene when they got delivered.”

You can hear the amusement in his words. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, the girls I work with brought them to me. They were very impressed by the size of the bouquet, Barnes.”

“I’m just concerned about what you think of me.” Was his answer and after that you couldn’t get a full sentence out of you.

He’s so open with his feelings towards you it’s scary, it makes your heart race but you also know he’s not just saying it. He means it and that makes you fall just a little more for Bucky.

“You’re sweet.” Is all you can manage, your face heated with a blush.

“Sam and I are finishing this up tonight, so I should be able to see you when we get back.”

You don’t know if you’re reading into his words, but Bucky sounds relieved at the prospect of seeing you soon.

“Isn’t it going to be a day’s long flight?”

“And I can see you right after I land, honey. So long as it’s not midnight or while you’re gonna be sleeping.”

Bucky Barnes isn’t good for your heart with the way he just wholly shows you how much he wants to spend time with you.

“Do you still need help with your playlist?”

He huffs, “Sam showed me. He’s not a good teacher though, was snippy the whole time; you’d think he’d remember I was in ice.”

You laugh, “I’ll show you when you get back, babe.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything about the pet name, but for the rest of the phone call he doesn’t respond unless you use it.

It’s two days before he’s back and Bucky drives straight over to see you.

He’s at your door a few hours after you get home from work, and when you open the door to see him, he’s there with a single rose in his hand and a tired smile on his face.

“Is it possible you got prettier while I was gone?” He leans against your doorway.

“You look dead on your feet, Bucky. Come inside.” you lead him to your sofa, watching him move with heavy but careful steps all the way through your living room.

Bucky’s movements are measured, not a single action wasted as he takes off his boots and socks and detaches his metal arm.

“I really missed you,” he sighs as he lays on your sofa, eyes shut as he takes a long breath.

“I really missed you too,” you brush back some hair from his face. “You could’ve gone home to sleep first, you know?”

Bucky opens his eyes and it takes great effort to do so, the whites of his eyes shot through with streaks of intense red.

“I wanted to see you,” he yawns. “But you’ve trapped me into laying on your sofa.”

You laugh, your fingers still knotted in his hair. “You can take a nap Bucky, or you can sleep the night here. I’m not really excited by the idea of you driving back tired.”

“I won’t doll,” he shuts his eyes again, the feel of your fingers on his scalp lulling him into a peacefulness he’s missed. “Tell me what you got up to while I was gone. I know you weren’t just counting down the days till I got back.”

You roll your eyes as you recount the last two weeks of your life, Bucky’s not even awake to hear what you did on the second day of him being gone.

You cover him up with your throw blanket and dim the lights of your living room. You make the playlist for him while he sleeps, putting all the songs you’ve sent him on the memory stick so he can leave with it.

Bucky doesn’t spend the night, but as he’s leaving he holds your cheek, “I didn’t come with an ulterior motive, just to see you. If you want, we can go have dinner tomorrow. I have something I want to ask you, doll.”

“That’s ominous,” you’re a little nervous by that phrase. No one likes being told that someone has ‘something to ask them’ in a day. There’s anxiety crawling up your chest before Bucky kisses your lips.

“It’s a good question baby, don’t overthink it. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You grab the memory stick off the table before you could forget, “Here, I put all the songs I’ve sent on here.” Bucky kisses you again.

“You’re an angel,” you steal a kiss before he pulls away. “Lock your doors.”

“Sir yes sir.”

You hear him laugh all the way to his car.

Despite Bucky’s well meaning, ‘Don’t overthink it.’ That’s all you did when you woke up and started sifting through dresses to wear.

You’re ready at six and that makes you even more anxious. There’s too much time to do nothing but sit and overthink it.

You’re working yourself up to outright calling Bucky when there’s a knock at your door.

A quick peek at the clock on your stove let’s you know you’ve been overthinking it for forty five minutes.

When you open the door, Bucky’s standing in front of you in a pretty blue shirt that makes his eyes pop, and black dress pants.

He’s not got flowers this time, but he is holding a box of what you think are chocolates.

“Oh my god,” he breathes as he takes you in. You’re in a pretty pale purple dress, white heels and your hair is down in loose curls. You hadn’t gone for heavy makeup but just enough where there’s purple glitter on your eyelids and your lips are a deep red.

“You look handsome.” You say as you fight the blush creeping up your chest at the way Bucky’ stares at you.

“You look,” he trails off like he really can’t find the right words. “Breathtaking.”

You feel as though the blush explodes in your chest and heats your entire face.

Bucky hands you the box of chocolates, “They’re all dark chocolate.” You smile as you take it; that’s another thing Bucky’s remembered you like.

“Do I get to know where we’re going?”

You ask as you slip the chocolates into your purse and shut your door.

Bucky smiles as he watches you lock your door before turning to him. Immediately he links his hand with yours.

“We’re going for dinner somewhere nice,” the entire ride to the car Bucky has you talking. About the last book you read, work, if you think about him every night before bed (the last one was just to make you laugh, but the truth is you do.)

“What about you Bucky? Do you think about me before bed?”

You ask as he parks and he turns to you.

“Oh yeah,” that’s all he says before coming out of the car to open your door. “Think about you more than I think about anything else, doll.”

You manage to hold back your question just before dessert, “Can you please ask me? I’m freaking out and I think my heart might explode from the anxiety.”

There’s a laugh that bubbles from you and Bucky tuts.

“Honey,” you press a hand to your chest. Your anxiety really is at an all time high. You have so many questions rattling around your head that Bucky could want to ask you and you may throw up the lovely pasta you just had if he doesn’t ask you soon.

He leans across the table and holds onto your wrist, feeling the erratic beat of your pulse.

“I’ve been torturing you, haven’t I doll?”

You nod as you try to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t mean to,” Bucky’s thumb strokes short lines across your wrist. “I had it all set up to come with dessert but I’ll put you out of your misery.”

“Thanks,” you mutter and he smiles.

“I know we’re only going steady,” that gets a smile out of you. He really is an old man, “but I wanted to ask you if I could be yours? Saying boyfriend makes me feel older so I won’t say it.”

You laugh, letting your head fall on his hand where it holds yours.

“Not the other way around?” You ask and Bucky huffs.

“You’re not property, honey.”

You look up with a smile and Bucky’s smile gets a little brighter. “Yeah you can be mine.”

“C’mere,” he tilts your chin a little higher and kisses you; slow and just long enough for it not to be a full make out. “You really missed out on the whole cheesecake with chocolate drizzle writing.”

He says as he pulls away and you laugh.

“Oh, are they not bringing it anymore?”

Bucky shakes his head, mischief in his eyes. “After you just latched onto me in the middle of their establishment? I don’t know, doll.”

“You’re ridiculous.” They still bring the cheesecake and Bucky feeds you the first bite, and like the flirt and menace he is, he gets a little just to the corner of your mouth.

“Let me get it for you,” and steals another kiss, ‘cleaning it off.’

Bucky Barnes really knows how to court a woman.

[vunblr]

The Trouble With Saturdays -Puesto-

Pairing: Thunderbolts! Bucky Barnes x Curvy! Female Reader

Tags: Fluff. Slight sprinkle of angst if you squint. Pinning.

Summary: Life at the Thunderbolts Tower is loud, chaotic, and full of questionable moral choices. Bucky’s used to keeping to himself, until one night, after one of those questionable moral choices was made, the guys got him high.

Word Count: About 7.6k.

They didn’t recruit her for the violence.

The Thunderbolts had enough of that. More than enough, actually. Three supersoldiers, a walking quantum anomaly, a man with literal god-tier potential buried beneath trauma, and Yelena, who didn’t need powers to make anyone cry.

No, she was brought in to patch what was left behind.

Civilians mostly. Collateral damage.

The ones caught in the debris cloud of a botched extraction, or buried under the wrong side of a knocked-over building. She’d move between the screams and the smoke, crouch in the rubble with her hands pressed to scorched skin or crushed lungs, and pull people back. Not metaphorically. Literally.

She didn’t stop death, but she slowed it. Called it off. Reversed it in some cases. No one liked to use the word resurrect, not even her, but she knew what it looked like when a rib cage stopped collapsing under its own weight, when air found its way back into lungs that had already forgotten how to breathe.

It didn’t take long for the team to realize she wasn’t there for them.

Mostly.

The first time Bucky came to her, it wasn’t after a mission.

It was late, the tower was in that in-between time when most of the team had gone to bed or passed out somewhere inconvenient. The common room was only lit by the flat screen, where Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth danced around each other in the 1995 Pride and Prejudice adaptation. She had a blanket over her knees and a mug in her hands. The night was ordinary. Unremarkable.

Then she felt him.

She didn’t startle, just looked up to find him standing by the edge of the couch. His eyes weren’t on her, but on the TV, and his arms were folded too tightly across his chest.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said.

“You didn’t.”

A pause. Then, quietly. “Could I… borrow your time?”

She tilted her head, studying him. He wasn’t bruised. No dried blood, no marred tac suit. But his posture was wrong. His left shoulder sat higher than the right, tensed and pulling across his collarbone.

“Is your back?” she asked softly, setting down her mug.

He gave the barest nod. “Shoulder and neck are acting up. Pulls when I use the arm too much. Been pushing it. And that strains my back, too.”

“Sit.”

He obeyed without question, sitting on the rug in front of the couch with a faint wince. She shifted to sit behind him, spreading her legs on each side of his shoulders.

When she laid her hands over the thick knot of muscle at his trapezius, he didn’t flinch but he tensed, just slightly. Then he exhaled. The heat under her palms was sharp and wrong, deep where metal met skin. She let the current of healing rise gently from her hands, coaxing away the ache like drawing poison from a wound. It wasn’t dramatic -there was no holy glow, no divine wind- just a flush of cool relief that sank slowly into his muscles. His eyes closed as he relaxed.

“Sorry to bug you so late,” he murmured after a while.

“You’re not.”

“I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d wait it out, but…” He trailed off, shrugged with his good shoulder. “Saw the glow of the tv. Damn, this helps.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m glad.”

“I love it,” she said. “It’s my comfort watch, wouldn’t trade it for any other version.”

He was quiet for a while. Let her work, let himself rest a little. Then, after a long pause-

“You like this series? I think there is a more recent movie.”

He hummed.

She smiled, pressing a little deeper into the heat at his shoulder. He made a sound then -not a groan, not quite- but something close. She felt him soften beneath her palms.

When she finished, he didn’t move right away. Just sat there, with his head bowed.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome.”

He stood up a moment later, with his shoulder visibly lower, freer, and his arm hanging loose again at his side. He looked at her then and nodded, padding back to his room.

----

She got along with all of them eventually. Yelena dragged her into a chaotic kind of sisterhood almost immediately; Alexei insisted on teaching her Russian phrases she didn’t ask for; Bob started helping her when she baked and apologized whenever he accidentally thew something panicked with the blender’s noise; Ava didn’t speak much, but once left a book outside her door with the title underlined in black. John well… he was an asshole, but a tolerable one.

But with Bucky… it was different. There was something in him that calmed her when he was near. She couldn’t tell. He kept a certain distance, like it were policy. She never took it personally. Still, there were moments.

Moments when he stood too close to her while scanning for exits, like he’d throw her over his shoulder if a ceiling caved in.

Moments like the night he sat on the other end of the couch, halfway through Pride and Prejudice, and watched in silence, asking questions with real interest, even when John heckled him for it, something about finally a period older than him.

Like the time he set aside a tupperware for her when she got back late, grunting something about how the “jackals already circled the kitchen.”

Like how he always lurked just close enough when she healed others, as if assessing what it might cost her.

That’s why she asked him.

One night, after a debrief, while everyone else argued over takeout orders and Bob tried to fix the busted kitchen fan by staring at it too hard, she leaned in at the counter beside Bucky and- “Teach me how to shoot.”

“No.” He didn’t even look up.

She raised a brow. “You don’t even want to know why?”

“Don’t care.”

“Bucky-”

“You already help people,” he said, clenching his fingers around the cheap ceramic mug with Yelena’s printed face. “You do enough. Let us manage the other part of the job.”

She didn’t argue. Not out loud. Just stood there, with heat crawling up her neck, unsure if it was from frustration or the way he said it.

----

The next morning, she didn’t bring it up again.

Bucky had said no, flat and final, with a tone like he was trying to crush the idea before it had a chance to grow legs. She wasn’t one to beg, so she thought of an alternative and left him alone.

So there she was, helping Yelena to repot the herbs Alexei kept murdering by accident in the kitchen.

Feet away, Bucky and Alexei sat in the common area. A soccer match was running on the TV. Bucky leaned back, with socked feet up on the coffee table, silent as ever. Alexei was cracking sunflower seeds and muttering something in a mix of Russian and fatherly disappointment.

Then came the voice.

“So! Guess who I’m gonna teach shooting after lunch?” John swaggered over, like he’d invented testosterone. “As a hint,” he added, wagging a finger, “it’s not the guinea pig.”

Bucky’s face soured instantly. His jaw ticked. “The hell does that mean?”

Alexei perked up. “Bob? Oho! I knew the kid would want to jump into heroic deeds instead of making waffles!”

“Nope.” John popped the p with relish. “Our group’s walking panacea.”

Alexei blinked. “Her? Da. Makes sense. She’s not bad with her hands. Has calm eyes, like assassin nun. I approve.”

John grinned like he’d just won a bet at someone else’s expense.

“I’m the only one here who thinks it’s a bad idea?” Bucky asked, frowning. “She doesn’t need to learn that,” he muttered.

“Uh, yeah, she does?” John scoffed, raising his brows like it hurt to explain. “Let’s face it, she’s super cool with the healing mumbo jumbo, but couldn’t reduce-”

“That’s not her role.” Bucky’s voice cut him promptly.

He stood slowly in all his height, his shadow stretching over the rug. “She doesn’t go on heavy missions. She takes care of us. She assists when we’re with civilians. That’s what she does.”

“And what happens,” Walker shot back, closing the gape, “when none of us are there to save her ass, huh? What happens the day it costs her life, or fucks up a mission because we’re too busy babysitting her?”

The room went still. Even the TV dulled down, like it knew something ugly was about to happen.

Bucky’s fists closed. “You’re not teaching her.”

John took a step forward. “Oh yeah? And what- what assembly named you the fucking leader, Bucky?”

No answer.

“I don’t take orders from you. She asked me. She’s a grown-ass woman who wants to learn, so, fuck off.”

Bucky moved.

Quick. Sharp. Enough menace in that single step that John instinctively squared his shoulders. But before anything snapped, Alexei clomped forward, stuffing himself between them in his garish yellow AvengerZ tracksuit like a human foam wall.

“Look, mister soldier,” he sighed, hands up like he was negotiating hostage terms. “He has a point, da? And she did ask. Haven’t you heard about women’s rights and determination?” He wagged a seed-covered finger. “Maybe in your time -and I’m not saying it was wrong- women belong in the kitchen, but-”

Bucky stopped listening.

She’d asked John.

She wanted this.

And clearly, she wasn’t going to let him stop her.

He shut his eyes. Counted to three. Didn’t make it to two.

“She’s not learning from you,” he told Walker, calmly. “If someone’s teaching her, it’s gonna be me.”

“Oh yeah?” John tilted his head, smiling all wolfish teeth. “And why’s that?”

Bucky snapped the case on the remote shut.

“Because I’m the fucking Winter Soldier.”

----

The tracksuit didn’t fit.

Or more specifically, the zipper refused to participate in any fantasy where it might slide up over her chest without protest. She wrestled with it anyway, with stubborn fingers pulling and tugging, trying to wedge the metal teeth up over her sports bra and the too-tight cotton clinging to her skin.

Her breathing had picked up. The top gaped open, exposing the rise of cleavage as she tried to smoosh herself flat enough to force the zipper into cooperation.

A quiet mutter escaped her lips. “Goddamn tits…”

Across the room, the door opened.

Bucky froze just inside the threshold.

There was a second -a full second- where all conscious thought left his brain.

He'd been expecting a shooting lesson.

What he got instead was the kind of image that used to be currency in the field. Back in the war, a photograph like that -wide hips, full breasts straining against cheap blue polyester- could’ve bought a man a whole week of smokes. Maybe two, if she smiled.

She wasn’t smiling now.

She was squishing herself with both arms, muttering curses, oblivious to his presence. He couldn’t move. His brain short-circuited somewhere between don’t stare and holy shit.

She heard the footsteps, finally.

Didn’t look up.

She thought it was John. For some reason she couldn’t picture, he told her they were going to start with rifles.

“Hey there, teach,” she called, still focused on the zipper. “Ready to show me your long gun?”

Silence.

It hit like a brick.

She looked up slowly, dragging her eyes from boots to black pants to the unmistakable slope of a broad chest under a grey Henley. Metal arm. Stubbled jaw. And that face. Oh god. That face.

Not stupid John.

“Bucky,” she breathed. The horror crept up her neck in a heatwave.

He blinked.

She scrambled to yank the zipper up in panic, gave up when it snagged under her chest, then crossed her arms to hide the worst of it, which only shoved her tits higher and made everything worse.

“I- uh- ” she stammered, backing toward the bench like she might vanish into the wall if she just concentrated hard enough.

Bucky’s voice came late. Gravel rough. “You’re not learning from Walker.”

She blinked.

“What?”

He stepped in, closing the door behind him. His jaw clenched once. “I’m teaching you.”

Silence again.

She wanted to die.

He hadn’t even blinked at her joke. No snort. No teasing comeback. Just that serious scowl and the ghost of something unreadable behind his eyes.

“I thought you said-” she started, still not daring to lower her arms.

“I changed my mind.”

Another beat.

Then, under his breath, almost too low to catch: “He’s not careful enough with you.”

Her heart kicked.

He didn’t look away. Just moved to the weapon rack methodically, like nothing had just happened. Like he hadn’t walked in on a living pin-up girl wrestling her zipper, talking about his long gun.

But his ears were red.

She exhaled through her nose and quietly regretted waking up at all that morning.

----

He handed her the rifle like it was made of glass.

“Start with the stance,” he instructed.

She nodded, lifting the long weapon with both hands. It was heavier than it looked, and she nearly tilted forward trying to keep it level. Her elbows wobbled. Feet shuffled on the mat. Then, squinting down the barrel, she bent her knees and leaned forward the way she’d seen in action movies.

Bucky made a noise.

Not a word.

Not a breath.

A noise.

His lips pressed into a line. He looked like someone who’d just bitten into a lemon and was trying to hide it. She was too focused to notice. Which was good. Because from behind, the way she bent into the stance, with her hips back, thick thighs under the stretch of her track pants, spine arched just enough to lift her ass like an offering, was testing his military-grade self-control.

He cleared his throat and walked forward like he wasn’t dying inside.

“Okay- no. You’re compensating too much.”

“What?”

“You’re sticking your ass out,” he said flatly.

She looked at him, half mortified, half amused. “Oh, so that’s your professional assessment, Sergeant Barnes?”

His ears turned red. “I’m just correcting your form.”

“Right.”

“Look,” he muttered, stepping behind her. “Feet shoulder-width. Hips square. Don’t tilt forward like that unless you wanna throw your back out.”

She smirked but followed directions. He reached out, -hesitated- then touched her shoulders very lightly to guide them back. She tensed under his hands. Not from discomfort, but something else. Awareness. Warm and prickly.

“Better,” he said, stepping to her side. His metal hand touched her wrist now. “Elbow up. Relax your grip. You’re not strangling the thing.”

“I didn’t know rifles were so delicate,” she murmured, still hyper-aware of him in her personal space.

He didn’t reply.

Because the sight of her shoulders pulled back, chest forward, arms braced in that stance, it was just too much.

In his head, he was screaming.

Professional. Stay professional. She’s trusting you. She’s trying. You’re a trainer. You’re a sandbag with instructions. Do not look down. Do not-

He looked down.

Her chest, barely contained by the track jacket, rose with each breath. A single drop of sweat slid down between her breasts and disappeared under the zipper that still refused to close fully.

He stepped back.

Farther than necessary.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll get the smaller rifle. That one’s… too much.”

He turned on his heel and walked off, jaw clenched, neck red, pretending he wasn’t about to re-evaluate every decision that led him to this exact moment.

They trained three times a week after that.

She was better than he expected, quick to learn, surprisingly capable once she stopped overthinking every movement. He still didn’t like it. Hated it, actually. But the touch-starved part of him -the one that had been pining for months- thrived under the excuse of proximity. Guiding her hand to the trigger. Adjusting her shoulders. Watching the way her eyes narrowed when she focused, the way she grinned when she nailed a shot. He got to stand close. He got to see her.

And she let him.

It was enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Like every other Saturday, he was chewing through a leg of an aggressively over-roasted chicken, sitting sideways on the kitchen bench with his legs stretched out and one boot hooked on the rung. Bob was mid-scrubbing dishes, with his sleeves rolled up and humming some offbeat tune under his breath.

Then came the death sentence.

“You know, it’s cool Yelena’s taking Y/n out tonight,” Bob said casually, flicking soap off his fingers. “It’s good they get to chill. She deserves it.”

Bucky didn’t look up.

Didn’t blink.

Just kept chewing.

Harder.

The meat turned to ash in his mouth.

Bob, kept going, oblivious. “I think they’re hitting that new place near the pier. The one with the neon sign that looks like a melting martini. Or a fish. Dunno.”

Across the room, something cracked.

The chicken bone, under Bucky’s grip.

“Right,” he said, voice like gravel. “Great.”

John didn’t miss a thing. He leaned back in his chair, with his arms crossed, smirking like a wolf catching scent of blood. “What? Don’t like your girlfriend going out?”

Alexei perked up like a dog hearing a squirrel. “Oh? You sly fox! Had it all covered up! So it wasn’t shooting lessons, eh?” He gave Bucky’s shoulder a hearty slap. “Were other kind of action? Da? Oh, Mister Soldier, you are so cool.”

Bucky threw him a sideways glare sharp enough to skin bark.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said flatly. “And I don’t know what the hell you're talking about.”

Nonchalance didn’t suit him, his jaw was too tight, his voice too frayed. The tension sat around him like a storm cloud in a leather jacket.

John made a wheezing sound and shook his head. “God, you are so emotionally constipated, Bucky. One day you’re gonna blow up and take half the damn tower with you.”

Alexei blinked. “Ima… I am missing something in translation. Constipation and feelings do not go well in same sentence.”

Bucky’s eye twitched. His glare swept across both of them like a loaded weapon.

“I’m going out.”

No further explanation.

He dropped the bone-scarred plate in the sink with a loud clang and left the kitchen without a backward glance.

----

The kitchen fell silent.

“God, it’s painful seeing him like this,” John muttered, rubbing his face. “It’s not even fun anymore.”

“Da. I say, what if we do our Men’s Night here!” Alexei declared, triumphant like he’d cracked the formula for world peace.

“What?” John wrinkled his nose.

“We drink! We bond! We order from that new shawarma place with the 2-for-1 coupons I got as a special gift!”

“They give those to everyone. They hand them out on the street.” Walker muttered.

“They recognized me,” Alexei said, offended.

John gave him a look. “I’m not wasting my Saturday with you losers. Bucky brooding in a corner, Bob vacuuming in sweatpants, and you doing… whatever it is you do on Weekends.”

Alexei stared at him, unimpressed. “Oh, because you sure have a lot going on tonight, American Bachelor. Come on. It will be fun. Do it for Mister Soldier!”

“He doesn’t even like me.”

“Da. But he would. After tonight, eh? Alcohol and food strengthen friendship!”

“You do know we’re supersoldiers, right? We can’t get drunk. Or high, for that matter.”

“Uh-” Bob’s voice floated in meekly from the sink, one squeaky-clean dish still clutched in his hand. “I’m not proud of this, but… I could help you with that.”

Both heads turned toward him.

“See, Ava found… well, a lot of Asgardian ale once. Inside a wall. Don’t ask. She never told anyone.”

Alexei blinked. “Inside a wall?”

“I saw her disappear into the surface and come back with a bottle,” Bob shrugged. “That’s how I know.”

John frowned. “What wall?”

Bob pointed.

Without another word, John walked over and punched straight through it.

Plaster rained down, dust curled into the air, and nestled like a hidden altar, six bottles gleamed behind cracked drywall.

Alexei gasped like he’d just witnessed a birth. “I told you! Men’s Night! It is fate!”

John coughed through the dust. “This is stupid.”

Bob set the dish down. “We’re doing it?”

“We’re doing it,” Alexei grinned. “For Mister Soldier.”

“What if he doesn’t drink?” John asked after a beat, crossing his arms as the dust started to settle.

“Oh, he will,” Alexei declared, solemn and sure. “He is so manly. So cool. Like brooding tiger in small kitchen-”

“God, stop worshipping that asshole,” John groaned. “He’s not in the mood. Might not even show up.”

“Well…”

Two pairs of eyes slowly turned toward Bob.

“What if,” Bob began, twisting his hands, “we give him special muffins?”

“Da!” Alexei clapped. “With sprinkles and that Nutella thing stuffing! You’re such a good boy.”

“No- I… I meant a muffin that could, uh… make him a little merrier,” Bob clarified, dropping his gaze.

“Well Nutella muffins do that,” Alexei reasoned, proud of himself.

John ran a hand down his face. “Oh my god. He’s talking about getting Bucky high. Drugged. Doped.”

There was a pause.

John straightened his back with a pleased smile.

“And I’m so in.”

It was late afternoon when Alexei thudded into the common room, with blind optimism. “Bucky! Tonight we bond. Men’s night. Like real men. With food. And feelings.”

Bucky didn’t even look up from where he sat, sharpening a knife that didn’t really need it. “No.”

Before Alexei could plead, Bob shuffled in, all wide eyes, hands tucked behind his back like he’d rehearsed this exact moment in the mirror. “It’d be nice to chill a little,” he said softly. “Just… hang out. Please?”

Bucky looked up, met the kicked-puppy eyes, and his jaw worked like he was chewing gravel. “I’ll… think about it,” he said finally, voice low. “I’m tired.”

“You told me you don’t get tired,” Alexei pointed out smugly.

Bucky muttered without meeting his eye, “Emotionally tired.”

Silence stretched uncomfortably.

Then Bob, eyes lighting up with now or never, reached behind his back and presented something small and innocent, cupped in his palms. “At least take one of these. Y/n made them earlier. John and Alexei almost emptied the tin.”

He didn’t even get through the sentence before Bucky’s hand reached out and snatched the muffin like it might vanish if he waited.

“She made them?” he repeated, already halfway through the wrapper.

He bit in fast, like someone might try to steal it back. The sponge was warm, soft, sugary- but with something odd underneath. Something behind the sweetness, bitter at the roof of his mouth.

He frowned.

But then he glanced at the supposedly empty tin on the table and got distracted, scowling harder. “Should’ve saved me more,” he muttered, licking a crumb off his thumb.

Bob and Alexei shared a look.

Showtime.

----

It was already dark when she stepped out of her room, one heel on, one still clutched in her hand, the dress tugged halfway down her thighs as she hobbled to the hallway mirror. Short black dress, modest enough by most standards, but the V neckline dipped just enough to remind her why she always paired it with the golden earrings, something to balance the look. She only found one.

“Yelena!” she called out flatly. She didn’t even have to elaborate.

“Maaaybe I borrowed them?” the younger woman called back from her own room, with no hint of guilt.

“Yelena.” She sighed.

“And maaaybe I lost one in the kitchen or somewhere near the couch while dancing. But in my defense, I looked very good with them.”

With another sigh, she slipped on her second heel and made her way toward the common room to check. If she were lucky, Bob might have found it while doing his usual nighttime sweep of crumbs and inexplicably misplaced socks.

But as she turned the corner, '90s music hit her ears, loud, obnoxious, unapologetically nostalgic. High laughter. Male voices, overlapping and hollering. Glasses clinking. A plastic thunk against a tabletop.

She blinked.

What the hell-

The sight made her stop short.

Bucky, John, Alexei, and Bob sat huddled around the coffee table, with a half-collapsed Risk board between beer bottles and empty snack bowls. Bob looked like a benign god of war, deploying his little plastic soldiers across Asia while sipping from a glass of water. John was mid-yell, stabbing a finger at the board. Alexei was roaring with laughter, slapping his thigh so hard the couch creaked.

But it was Bucky who made her forget why she’d come.

He was laughing.

Not a scoff, not a breathy exhale of amusement, but laughing. Open-mouthed, with his body leaning back against the couch like he hadn’t carried the world on his shoulders for years. He made a circle with one hand and penetrated it with his index finger toward John in an unmistakably rude gesture, still chuckling as he stole a red soldier from the board and hid it behind his ale bottle.

She almost tripped.

What the hell were they drinking?

The three supersoldiers were clearly tipsy. No other word for it. Pink-cheeked, all glassy-eyed, loose-limbed. Whatever they’d found had bypassed their enhanced metabolism. She would bet Bob had something to do with it, but couldn’t prove it. But there he was, the only one completely sober, amused, controlling half the world map without a single drink. Still, it was a responsible thing to do, since no one knew what could make the void peek through some crack in his mind.

But it wasn’t Bob’s fault she couldn’t take her eyes off Bucky.

God. He looked… relaxed. Warm. Happy in a way she hadn’t seen before. It panged her chest in the worst -best- way.

Don’t look at him. You're here for an earring. She focused on Bob. Nice, predictable, unenhanced Bob.

Bucky’s eyes tracked her every move. Every sway of her hips. Every sparkle of skin not covered by the dress. His mouth parted slightly. His back pressed against the back of the couch as if he were bracing himself for a blow.

She stopped at Bob’s side and leaned slightly over the table. “Hey,” she said softly, “you haven’t seen one of my earrings around here, have you? Yelena borrowed them and thinks she left one in the kitchen or something.”

Bob blinked, like waking from a gentle trance. “Uhh- n-no. But I’ll help you look. Maybe it rolled under something?”

John caught Bucky’s expression and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Dude, that's so uncool."

“What?” Bucky grunted, eyes not moving from her.

“Have some dignity, man. You're practically drooling.”

Bucky didn’t look at him. Just muttered, “I think it’s time to tell that cookie to take a powder and go cut some rugs.”

John stared at him like he’d finally lost it. “I don’t understand half a word you say. What powder? What rugs?”

Alexei slammed his pint down. “I think Mr. Soldier wants to invite her to dance.”

“No. No-no-no.” John’s voice lowered to a sharp hiss as he leaned toward Alexei. “As much as I love to see him crash and burn, I’m not letting him throw himself into the fire before he’ve even boarded the damn boat.”

He turned back to Bucky. “Maybe it’s not the best time, Buck. She’s going out. This is men’s night. You gonna ditch us?”

There was almost hurt there, buried deep under John's usual smugness, but there. Maybe seeing Bucky relaxed, laughing, not shadowed by silence or some kind of grief, had touched something vulnerable in him.

Bucky, still staring across the room, shrugged one shoulder lazily. “Well, yeah. Look at 'er. If someone’s gonna swag with her, it’s gonna be me.”

John reeled back. “What is this? His ‘40s casanova era? And what- don’t say swag. It sounds dirty. And old.”

But Bucky wasn’t listening. He was already shifting, gripping the armrest with one hand, the other adjusting the hem of his shirt. Calculating.

John reached out and gripped his wrist. “Don’t.”

“What?” Bucky finally turned to look at him. “You wanna make love to her too?”

John made a strangled sound. “Okay. Ew. Don’t say it like that. I’m not trying to fuck her, I just-”

“I think Mr. Soldier means… if you are interested in her, or like her. In that manly, old-timey way of speaking,” Alexei chimed in, grinning like a gossiping aunt.

Bucky raised a brow, slowly and deliberately. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business either way.”

And with that, he rose to his full height, adjusted the collar of his shirt, and turned toward her, toward the woman in black, who had just straightened, with her earrings forgotten, because now he was coming.

----

She looked at him like a doe caught in the road, because one thing was the usual Bucky: Serious, broody, dry, grumpy. But this?

This was something else.

This was Bucky Barnes with his hair tousled back in a calculated sweep, like he’d done it a thousand times in mirrors with lipstick on his collar. Like he knew he looked good, knew it with the finger-snap confidence of a man who used to leave dances with someone on his arm every single time.

And he was walking toward her like he owned every inch of the floor he stepped on. Chin up, loose shoulders. A sexy smirk blooming slowly across his face.

“The fellas tell me you’re steppin’ out with Yelena tonight?” he asked, his voice was velvet and low, laced in something that sounded far too close to a purr.

Her lips parted. Her throat forgot how to work.

Behind him, John made a dramatic groan and slapped a hand over his own eyes.

“Uh- yeah,” she managed, dragging her eyes away from the collarbone peeking out of Bucky’s shirt. “She’s taking me to some club I’ve never heard of. Girls’ night. More or less what you’ve got going here, but…”

“But more high-tone?” he cut in, lifting one brow like he already knew the answer.

“A little,” she conceded, suddenly very aware of her bare shoulders and the heat of his gaze. He was looking at her like a man who knew all her tells.

He tipped his head, just slightly. “Well, sweetheart, you show up in a swell little number like that, and those clubs’ll be thick with chiselers tryin’ to make time.”

She blinked. “With what?”

“Chiselers,” he repeated, solemn as a preacher. “Sharp-dressed fellas with quick grins and slick intentions.”

Behind him, John groaned again. “Oh my god, he’s time-traveling. Somebody stop him.”

But Bucky wasn’t done. His voice dropped lower, the charm coming out his lips like it had never left. “Lucky for you, I’m around to keep those lounge lizards in line.”

She blinked. “So… you wanna come with us?” she asked, trying to keep her tone dry, unaffected, casual, though her voice pitched up at the end like it didn’t get the memo.

“More like with you, but yes,” Bucky said, straight-faced and warm-eyed, like he hadn’t just rearranged the atmosphere around them.

A flash of heat bloomed up her face. She opened her mouth, fumbled. “Uh- but Yelena…”

Bucky turned, scanning the room like a man surveying a poker table before placing a bet. His gaze landed on Bob, sitting primly with his water glass, a solitary yellow pawn in hand.

“Maybe…” Bucky drawled, one hand finding his hip, the other gesturing vaguely toward Bob without breaking eye contact, “Bob can come too. And we four can go have a little fun. What d’you say?”

Her stomach dipped. What.

This was definitely not the quiet man with a staring problem she secretly admired.

Asking her out? Softly trying to ditch Yelena? Proposing some sort of double date?

Her eyes dropped instinctively to his mouth, then to the Risk party behind him, as if the answer were hidden somewhere between the scattered pieces and unlabelled bottles.

He was too close. That was the problem. He smelled like leather and woodsmoke. His pupils were wide, swallowing up the blue like he'd stepped out of a memory and into a daze. He looked like he wanted to crawl under her dress and make himself useful there.

She narrowed her eyes, dropping her voice. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” said everyone, far too quickly.

Alexei raised his glass like a shield. “Mr. Soldier here only wants to bond a little, eh? Have a nice ni-”

“Bucky, honey,” she said, turning back to him, her voice as gentle as her hand reaching up to fix the front of his shirt, “what did you drink? What did you take?”

“Maybe I wanna take you-,” he started, voice syrup-slow.

She pressed a finger to his lips before the rest of that sentence escaped his mouth. He went quiet instantly, grinning behind her touch like a smug idiot. His eyelashes fluttered. He looked drunk on her.

Fuck.

She spun toward the other two supersoldiers, stalked over, her heels clicking sharply across the floor. She leaned in close enough for Alexei’s eyes to widen and John to shift in his seat.

“Tell me what the hell is going on,” she whispered-hissed. “And don’t give me that ‘Asgardian ale’ crap.”

They both looked, for once, appropriately ashamed.

“Well…” Alexei rubbed the back of his neck.

John offered a shrug that could be described as some level of guilt. “Maybe… we kind of doped him?”

Her jaw dropped. “You what?!”

“Just to loosen him up!” John hissed. “Like- get him to chill a little! Maybe the combination of getting him high and drunk was a bit much, but hey- he’s smiling!”

“Oh my god,” she hissed, looking back at Bucky.

Who, by the way, was currently spinning her missing earring between his fingers like a prize he’d just won in a festival just for her, and winked when she caught him.

He Winked.

That’s why he’d cornered her with those warm, ruined eyes and soft, rakish confidence. It made sense now, so painfully obvious. It could’ve been her, Ava, Yelena, or a delivery person with the wrong timing. A warm body and a curious face.

She exhaled, slowly, willing down the disappointment. Right. Of course.

He was intoxicated. That was all this was.

She crossed the floor toward him, gently curling her hand around his wrist.

“Let’s get you some air,” she said quietly, tugging him away, ignoring how he let her lead him with that boyish smirk still playing at his lips.

She tossed a glare sharp enough to gut a man over her shoulder. The three still seated at the table winced like kids caught stealing candy.

Out on the balcony, the air was cool. Bucky leaned against the sliding glass door, running his hands through his hair, with a lazy grin stretching his mouth.

“Well, I wanted to dance,” he murmured, tilting his head toward her with a little shrug, “but I ain’t complainin’, dollface.”

“Bucky.” She kept her voice even.

“Hm?” he blinked slowly, eyes glossy and confident.

“You’re high.”

He scrunched his nose. “No, I’m not.”

“And drunk,” she added.

“Doll, you know I can’t.” His smile was crooked, defiant and soft.

“But you are,” she insisted. “So I’m going to sit with you a little, then see if I can purge it from your system. Yeah?”

“I’m not feelin’ bad.” He tipped his head back, eyes half-lidded as he looked at the sky. “In fact, I don’t remember feelin’ this good in decades.”

Her chest clenched.

That wasn’t fair. That made it worse. What was it to her if he wasn’t hurting anyone else? If he wasn’t hurting himself?

But he was. He was hurting someone. Her.

This -whatever he was doing- acting like he wanted something more with her, only now, only tonight, only when he was under some substance’s spell.

“Alright then,” she said carefully. “If you feel good… just stay with the guys, hm? I’ll go out with Yelena. Tomorrow you can tell me who won at Risk.”

He shifted visibly. His mouth fell open like he wanted to argue but couldn’t yet find the words. His brows drew together.

“If you don’t wanna go out,” he said slowly, “how ’bout a dance here?” His voice was soft again, tentative, hopeful. “Don’t make me beg, doll.”

Her heart stuttered.

“How about another day?” she said gently, stepping back just enough to put some air between them. “Trust me. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“For not acceptin’ a dance?” he asked. “You think I’m makin’ a fool outta myself?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just-” she began.

“Today’s the sixth of July,” he interrupted her. His tone shifted, serious, deliberate. “This mornin’ Ava ate the last of Walker’s sugar cereal and he pissed in her apple juice's bottle outta spite. We trained after breakfast. I taught you how to shoot a movin’ target with a Beretta, and you gave me three cherry candies you swiped from Yelena’s stash ‘cause you know I like the red ones.”

He took a breath. Didn’t blink.

“We didn’t see each other at lunch,” he continued, “but I know you went out to buy heels ‘cause you don’t own a proper pair and you were nervous ‘bout tonight.”

His gaze softened again. “I ain’t impaired, doll. Just-“ he reached up, combing his fingers through his hair, tousling it further, “uninhibited.”

She froze.

“Maybe I’m sayin’ the first thing that pops in my head. Maybe I’m talkin’ like a radio host from a bygone decade ‘cause I don’t give two shakes about findin’ the modern way to tell you what’s spillin’ out.”

He stepped closer.

“Okay,” she muttered, trying to sound stern, and failing. “One dance. And that’s it. But you’ll have to guide me, because-”

She didn’t get to finish.

Bucky caught her hand like he’d been waiting all night for the excuse, and in one smooth pull, he brought her against him.

His vibranium arm slid around her waist protectively. But it was the other hand -the warm one- that pressed low on the small of her back with possessive pressure. She barely managed not to gasp.

“‘Course I was gonna guide you, sugar,” he murmured, with mischief. He grinned, a flash of something old -young- too self-assured for the Bucky she knew. She pressed her hands on his shoulders, and then he started to move.

There was no music playing on the balcony. Just city sounds. Wind. The buzz of far-off traffic. The flicker of neon on glass.

But he was hearing something. That much was obvious in the way his head tilted, his shoulders rocked, and the cadence of his steps moved like an echo from another decade. The rhythm was slow, nostalgic. Something big-band, maybe, soft horns and a crooner’s voice threading the moment together in his mind.

Through the glass behind him, John, Alexei, and Bob were stacked like dumbasses at the edge of the living room, jockeying for a better view, faces half-lit by the apartment’s glow, whisper-arguing like overgrown kids at a school dance.

She looked away from them. Looked up at Bucky instead.

He was humming now. Not to her. Not even aware he was doing it, maybe. Just lost in whatever old tune was spinning inside his head, something warm, velvet-smooth. He had a ballroom behind his closed eyelids.

“You did this often?” she managed.

“Almost all weekends,” he said, words slurred not by drink, but nostalgia. His palm shifted slightly on her back. “Used to cut a rug like nobody’s business.”

“I bet you did.”

“Won a jitterbug contest in ‘39,” he said seriously, then laughed like he surprised himself remembering that. “Didn’t even plan on enterin’. Some girl pulled me in off the floor and said, ‘You got legs, use ‘em.’”

She swallowed.

He was… different. And not just because of whatever he took.

The natural charm. The half-smirk. The way he looked at her like she was a sure thing, and he was still the kind of man who could offer something worth saying yes to.

She felt her eyes go wet. Damn.

Because tomorrow he’d wake up with a predictable headache and maybe beat the shit out of John just for sport. He’d lecture Bob with that kind exasperation he reserved for people he secretly cared about, barking something about “drugging someone without their consent isn’t quirky, it’s a felony.” And he’d ignore Alexei entirely because you could never win against that man’s stupid arguments about good intentions and “power of friendship.”

But above all, he might not remember any of this.

Or worse, he would. And it wouldn’t mean to him what it meant to her.

That part was the sharp edge. The one she couldn’t dull with a smile or a healing touch.

One thing was secretly pining for him. She could survive that. She has been surviving it. It was almost fun, in its own pathetic way, watching him when he taught her shooting, stealing hours of intimacy disguised as routine. A hand on his arm as she guided him through a breathing exercise. The quick flick of her thumb across his temple to soothe him after a flashback. Getting to touch his skin under the guise of professional concern when she healed him.

That was her safe little corner of yearning. Controlled.

This was something else. This was another tier entirely. Pressed against his chest. Held by him. Stared at like a woman and not a teammate or a responsibility.

And she knew -knew- that it was going to cost her.

Because you didn’t survive someone like Bucky Barnes looking at you like that and walked away unburned.

Their bodies moved slowly, barely more than a sway. His breath warmed her temple, and the weight of his metal hand was solid at her waist. He kept humming that soft tune that probably hadn’t been on any airwaves in eighty years, and for a moment, -God for a moment- she let herself pretend.

That they were somewhere else. Somewhen else.

Her fingers pressed gently on his shoulders.

She didn’t want it to end.

But it had to.

She drew back just enough to look up at him. His eyes were still too bright, pupils wide and swimming in the low light from the tower. His lips parted like he was going to say something devastating again, something pretty and unfiltered, something he’d never say sober.

So she shook her head softly before he could.

“We should go back in,” she said, her voice barely louder than the city breeze.

Bucky’s brow furrowed, confused. “Already?”

She nodded, squeezing his shoulders lightly before stepping back. “One dance. That was the deal.”

He followed her retreat with a small frown, stumbling half a step like he wanted to close the gap again. “I could walk you out. Or tag along. You, me, Yelena, Bob-”

A smile tugged at her mouth, bittersweet and careful. “Not tonight.”

She reached up, brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips.

“C’mon, sit down,” she said gently, nudging him toward the cushioned bench tucked against the balcony railing. He obeyed, blinking slowly, draping his metal arm over the backrest while his flesh hand reached to one of hers as she crouched in front of him.

“Tomorrow,” she murmured, maintaining his gaze, “you’re gonna hate them for what they did. You’re gonna yell at John, probably kick his ass. You’re gonna scold Bob. You’ll try to ignore Alexei, and fail.”

He gave a lopsided smile. “That sounds about right.”

“And, about this…” She hesitated, vaguely motioning her hand between them. “You’ll pretend that it was nothing.”

“That’s not fair to say,” he whispered.

She nodded, swallowing the ache. “No. It’s not. But it’s how this works, right?”

His fingers caressed hers. “You think I’m gonna forget?”

“No,” she murmured. “I think you’re gonna remember. And wish you hadn’t.”

She stood before he could answer, slipping her fingers from his. Her voice was quiet but firm as she added, “Stay out here a little. Cool off. I’ll go find Yelena.”

But his hand caught hers again. Not tightly, just enough to hold her there.

“What if I ask again tomorrow?” he murmured. A too sober question for someone that wasted.

She raised a brow, trying to match his tone with a smirk. “With a massive hangover and the outburst of vengeance in your heart, as Alexei would say?”

“Yeah.” He said it without blinking. He licked his bottom lip, not quite smirking now. “Even then.”

And then she turned, walked back toward the glass door, ignoring the frantic scramble of limbs as Bob and John tried to act casual, as if they hadn’t been spying through the window like gremlins. Alexei didn’t even pretend to feel guilty.

It stunned her for a second. Just a second. She held his gaze, then slipped her hand from his slowly. Didn’t step back yet. Just stood there, close enough for his knees to brush the hem of her dress. Then, with the gentlest smile on her mouth:

“If you ask tomorrow… you’ll find out.”

She didn’t care.

Bucky leant back on the bench once she disappeared, with the city wind tousling his hair, and still feeling the ghost of her touch on his skin.

He smiled. Slow and crooked.

Because it hadn’t been a no, she would’ve said so if it had.

This way… she stayed unexposed.

It was a careful maybe. A thread left loose for him to pull, if he wanted to.

Because saying yes tonight would cost her if he didn’t follow through tomorrow.

Unless he reached. Unless he asked.

Unless he remembered.

And he would.

What a coincidence to find you right here

Qué casualidad fue encontrarte justo acá

Me so high, you so alluring

Yo tan puesto, vos tan apuesta

How sophisticated it was to invite you to flirt

Qué sofisticado fue invitarte a coquetear

Me so slow, you so elegant

Yo tan lento, vos tan regia

You're beautiful, you're beautiful

Sos hermosa, sos hermosa

Taglist: @civilbucky @pandaxnienke @queergalpal97 @mrsalexstan @sophiemass @alagalaska

Dividers by: @/enchanthings

[rafesangelita]

♡ bitchy!pogue!reader brings a friend to tanneyhill..

warnings: sex work, threesome (m + f + f), face sitting, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, a little but of wlw

a/n: i’m really nervous about posting this fic in particular because it’s my first time writing smut with another woman so please give me some grace! thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

“how the fuck did you even discover this place?!” topper ran his hands through his hair, his jaw falling slack as his eyes danced around the room full of pretty girls prancing around in trashy lingerie and heels. ‘pink sugar’ was by far the most attended to strip joint on the cut— and it showed. as soon as any patron walked in, they were immediately hit with a whirlwind of cheap perfume, body glitter, and sparkly lipgloss. it was every man’s wet dream come true.. including rafe’s.

“life on figure eight gets stale after a while, bro. sometimes you just gotta expand a little bit, y’know?” topper nodded even though the words that rafe just said went in one ear and right out the other. the two of them took a seat in front of the main stage, a waitress wasting no time in getting their drink orders taken up to the front. while rafe had been here a handful of times, topper was like a kid in a candy store as he sat in awe.

meanwhile, you were getting ready in the locker room, both you and your best friend sticking rhinestones around each other’s eyes as you two waited to be called out by the dj for your turn to perform. “it better be a full house tonight.. i already have my eyes on these shoes, and there’s no way in hell i’m not getting them.” you cursed under your breath, running a pink comb through your hair to make sure everything looked perfect.

just as you adjusted the garter straps of your stockings, you heard your name being announced to the crowd outside. “good luck out there!” your bestie called out behind you, a giggle leaving your lips as you waved. even though you were more than familiar with the atmosphere already, you couldn’t help the thumping of your heart everytime you walked out from behind the curtains and felt the burning stares from the hungry men in the audience against your skin.

you smiled sweetly, the lights dimming just in time for you to lock eyes with two guys in the front. one looked laid back, his gaze raking down your figure as he drank from his glass, and the other looked like he couldn’t believe you were real. you knew right away he was a first timer by the way he leaned forward in his seat. pretending no one else was in the room, you started dancing, the floor already being littered with various dollar bills.

you tuned out the whistles and the hollering and focused on only the music, your set going by faster than you thought. with only one more song left on your list of requests, you stepped down from the stage, your hips swaying as you walked over to the two men you saw when you first came out. snaking your hands down the chest of the one with a buzz cut, you kneeled between his thighs before feeling him over his lap, his jaw clenching as he watched you intently.

rafe knew as soon as you looked up at him with something a little more than just lust in your eyes, he was going to have to take you away from here, your glossy lips shining underneath the neon lighting of the club. originally coming out to pre-game for the rager rafe was throwing tonight at tanneyhill, he figured he’d get the party going early with you looking so fucking pretty between his legs. he didn’t get to dwell on the sight for too long before you left him alone just as the song ended.

flashing him a wink, rafe watched you disappear backstage, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. blinking out of his trance, rafe told topper he would be right back with more drinks before making his way over to the bar. “excuse me,” rafe motioned the bartender over, “do you know how i can talk to the girl that was just on stage?” he asked. “y/n? she usually comes out and converses with the crowd when she’s done with a set, she’ll be out here soon.”

quickly ordering three rounds of shots, rafe made his way back over to his seat only to see you and a friend of yours already over there laughing at something topper was saying. “—oh, here he is now..” topper laughed nervously, taking the tray of shots out of rafe’s hands as you two shared a look. “you talking about me?” his voice alone gave you butterflies, his tall form making you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

“don’t worry he didn’t say anything bad..” kitty, your best friend, teased. rafe looked over at her, his eyes wandering down her own sexy get-up. fixing his gaze back on you, rafe leaned down to whisper in your ear. “do you do personal parties?” he all but groaned once he smelled your sugary sweet skin, the sound shooting straight down to your panties. “personal parties?” you repeated, “it’s gonna cost you.” rafe scoffed, not worried about the money.

“give me a number.” he placed a gentle hand on the small of your back, pulling you close. you and kitty side glanced one another, a smile gracing your lips as your nails snaked around the buckle of his belt. “what kind of party?” you asked, making sure you were aware of what you were getting yourself into before agreeing to anything. “i’m throwing a house party tonight on figure eight, all of my friends are big spenders.. just putting that out there.”

you thought it over for a moment, a small part of you feeling intimidated since you weren’t familar with figure eight, nor did you know anyone that lived on that side of the island. “ten thousand, and i get to bring my friend over here.” you nodded towards kitty who was already sitting in topper’s lap. “perfect. do you need a second to get your things? i can take both of you straight over there.” you hummed at his words, silently signaling kitty to meet you in the back.

she excused herself from topper, both of you walking closely with each other to the locker rooms. “so what are we doing?” she was quick to touch up her makeup, changing out of her dancing shoes and into some platform heels. “that guy out there is willing to give me ten thousand to go to a party he’s having on figure eight, but if you come with me we’ll split it, plus he said his friends were ‘big spenders’, so that’s five thousand each excluding tips.”

without having to say another word, kitty was immediately on board, both of you squealing excitedly before grabbing your purses from your lockers. following the guys out of the club, you allowed rafe to open the passenger door for you, topper and kitty filing in the back before rafe started up his truck. he put on his music loud enough for you to feel the bass in your chest, a mix of excitement and anticipation swirling in your tummy.

you didn’t know what you were expecting to pull up to, but a mansion as huge as rafe’s definitely wasn’t on your list of possibilities. there was cars already filling the streets, people lining the gates of the house as rafe parked in the driveway, his arms wrapping around your waist as he helped you get down from the truck. you and kitty waited for him to start letting people in before leading both of you through the front door, topper following closely behind.

“i just need you two to cater towards my people, alright? these guys don’t know what a good time really looks like and i want y’all to be the ones to show them, ‘sound good?” just as he was going to send you and kitty off to the living room, you stopped him. “we need to get paid before we do anything.” rafe glanced between you and your bestie and nodded. “of course, why don’t you two follow me upstairs and we can get that out of the way?”

doing as you were told, you and kitty both looked around the house as he lead both of you to the master bedroom. “it’s in here.” he welcomed you two in, doing a quick sweep of the hallway before locking the door behind him. taking a seat on the huge bed, you and kitty watched as rafe took a metal briefcase out of his closet and entered a pin for it to unlock. looking up, rafe admired both of you as kitty ran her fingers through your hair, a smile adorning your lips as she did so.

both of you were so unremarkably gorgeous, it was hard for him to count money as you two giggled with each other. while fixing one of the rhinestones on kitty’s face, she was staring at the body glitter on your cleavage, running a finger over the sparkly dust. “are you trying to cop a feel?” you teased, moving your hand to rest on her thigh. rafe’s jaw clenched at the sight. “maybe..” kitty laughed, both of you leaning into each other as your hands wandered further up underneath her skirt.

rafe cleared his throat, both of you snapping out of whatever this was. “this is the money right here,” he held up the stacks of cash for you two to see, “however, both of you seemed to have piqued my interest..” glancing at each other confusingly, you and kitty waited for rafe to explain. walking over to the chair that sat in the corner of the room, he took a seat. “take each other’s clothes off.” at this, you felt your heart starting to beat in your ears.

sharing a look, you and kitty had the same nervous expression written all over your faces. “for ten more grand, can you beautiful ladies let me watch?” you had to refrain from letting your jaw drop to the floor, your stomach flipping at the new offer. kitty scooted closer to you, her hand shielding her mouth as she whispered in your ear. “what do you think?” blinking, you stole a glance at the full brief case that sat on the hardwood desk against the wall.

“i think he can do better than ten thousand dollars..” you whispered back, your faces just mere inches away from each other’s. “make it fifteen.” you looked over at rafe, shrugging off your coat to reveal your outfit from earlier. “how about twenty?” kitty swore you could hear her heart beating out of her chest. “tell him it’s a deal.” she whispered, getting up from her spot on his bed. “we’ll do it.” with his cock already stirring in his pants, he leaned back in his seat as you and kitty pressed a soft kiss to each other’s lips.

stepping out of your heels, you snaked your fingers behind kitty’s top, her hands resting on the globes of your ass as you untied the strings to her sequined bra. you and kitty have been best friends for as long as you can remember, you two literally started dancing at pink sugar together, there was nothing that you two hadn’t seen of each other already. “are you okay?” she spoke low so rafe couldn’t hear. humming softly, you kissed her again, allowing her to slip off the lace material of your underwear.

rafe swallowed thickly, his eyes traveling over your naked figure. despite there being two of you, he found himself zeroed in on only yourself, your stare holding his as kitty kissed down your neck. “should we include him?” you whispered against her skin, running your palms down her side. “you like him, don’t you?” she giggled. you blinked slowly, refraining from smiling as you hummed quietly. “go get him.” rafe shifted his weight in his chair as you walked over, carefully straddling his lap.

“me and kitty want to share you..” you ran your hands over his chest before undoing the buttons of his shirt, the sight of his toned stomach encouraging you to do away with his belt next. rafe watched you as you palmed him through his pants, his tongue poking out to run over his bottom lip. taking his hand in yours, you helped him stand up on his feet before getting him out of his clothes and leading him to where you and kitty were.

laying him down, rafe looked at the two of you as each of you kneeled on either sides of him. “tell us what you want us to do.” kitty stroked his inner thigh while you took his cock in your hand, a strangled groan rumbling from his chest at your touch. his chest rose and fell while he took a moment to think. “i want kitty on my face and you on my cock.” he looked at you with hooded eyes, your head moving in kitty’s direction. “whatever you want, handsome.”

you and your best friend held hands as if to hold onto each other for leverage, her mouth falling open as rafe skillfully circled her entrance with his tongue, her hips moving smoothly so the tip of his nose was nudging her clit with every stroke. you on the other hand, could barely keep up with his thrusts as he stuffed you full, your moans bouncing off of his bedroom walls. “fuck, he feels so good.” you whimpered, nearly doubling over as he started thrusting from underneath you even harder.

kitty’s head hung low in defeat as she rode rafe’s face, her thighs trembling around his head as he licked and sucked at her soaked cunt. you clenched around him, squeezing him tightly as he groaned in response. kitty was speechless at the whole ordeal, her eyes rolling far back into her head as rafe held onto her thighs so she couldn’t get away from him. “oh, god—!” kitty gasped, her chest rising and falling as rafe pushed her over the edge, her hands dropping from yours in order to dig her nails into his skin.

rafe cursed when he felt the stinging sensation, your hips still moving as he loosened his grip on kitty’s thighs. he kept up his ministrations until your best friend got off of him with a squeal, overstimulation setting in as she laid next to him still going through the aftershocks of her orgasm. rafe licked his lips clean, wasting no time in sitting up against his headboard, his hands grabbing onto the globes of your ass so he could bounce you on top of him.

you buried your face in his chest, the scent of his cologne only adding to your cock drunk state. “you’re so fucking tight, holy shit—” he tugged on your earlobe with his teeth, your clit meeting his pubic bone as kitty took a seat behind you, her hands coming around to cup your tits as she moved your hair to one side of your shoulders to expose your neck. holding your head up, you shuddered when you felt her lips on your skin, her teeth nipping the sensitive flesh there.

you were a mess by the time rafe’s hips started bucking, kitty’s lips finding yours as you came with a cry, his moans echoing in your ears as he pulled you against his chest. you clenched around him as he came inside of you, his cum painting your insides as he panted. letting out a sigh, rafe thumbed your chin, both of you sharing a heated kiss before kitty got up and helped you slide off of him. “you okay?” she asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “yes, are you?” kitty nodded, both of you slipping back on your clothes.

rafe watched as you two cleaned yourselves up, his hand motioning towards the money. “it’s all there..” he trailed off, “kitty you think i can get a word alone with y/n here?” grabbing her stack, she nodded before going into the bathroom, leaving you and rafe alone together. “i want you to come back tomorrow, ‘spend the weekend with me.” you bit your lip, glancing over at the bathroom door. “i don’t know if kitty will be busy—”

“no, just you,” he cut you off, “i want you by yourself.”

[ari-ana-bel-la]

What about Pierre having this bad haircut because it was his little girl doing it. And because he loves her so much, he wore it proudly everywhere.

Papa’s Haircut

The 2025 season kicked off with a buzz—quite literally—when Pierre walked into the Jeddah paddock on media day, baseball cap in hand and a brand new haircut on full display.

Well, if one could call it a “haircut.”

It was uneven. Patches too short on the side, a strangely long tuft at the back, and a slightly lopsided front that looked like someone had tried to shape a heart and then gotten distracted halfway through. And the cherry on top? Pierre was beaming like a proud man on his wedding day.

“Mate,” Lando said the moment he saw him, eyes wide, “what the hell happened to your head?”

Pierre turned toward him with a radiant smile. “My daughter did it.”

Lando blinked. “Your… daughter? Yn?”

Pierre nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes! She wanted to be my ‘personal coiffeuse,’ and who am I to deny her dreams?”

From behind, Charles nearly choked on his drink. “You let a five-year-old give you a buzz cut?”

“She’s five and a half, actually,” Pierre corrected, “and she took it very seriously. She even asked for a towel and said, ‘Papa, you must sit very still or I’ll make you bald like Uncle Seb.’”

At that, George burst out laughing. “Poor Seb. Man’s retired and still catching strays.”

“Respectfully, you do look like you lost a bet,” Carlos chimed in as he approached, adjusting his sunglasses. “Was this filmed? Please tell me this was filmed.”

“It was,” Pierre said proudly, pulling out his phone. “Kika was on camera duty. Wait—look at this part—this is where Yn says, ‘Oops, I think the wind moved your hair.’” He pressed play.

On screen, little Yn stood on a kitchen stool, holding an electric clipper nearly the size of her arm. Her tiny brows furrowed in concentration as she buzzed a line up the back of Pierre’s head.

“Oops,” she whispered.

Kika, off-camera: “What do you mean, ‘oops’?”

Yn: “Nothing, Maman, it’s just… art is complicated.”

The group around Pierre dissolved into laughter.

“Art is complicated,” Max repeated with a smirk, crossing his arms. “She’s going to be unstoppable.”

“You’re a good sport, man,” Oscar added, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I could show up to a race looking like that.”

“Because you don’t have kids yet,” Pierre said, tapping a finger against Oscar’s chest. “When you do, and your little girl climbs into your lap with her plastic scissors and says, ‘Papa, I wanna make you pretty,’ you’ll let her do anything.”

He paused.

“Well, maybe not anything. But… hair grows back. And look at this face—” he pulled up another picture of Yn, this one with her clutching a handful of Pierre’s fallen hair with glee. “Tell me that smile isn’t worth it.”

Charles leaned over to look. “Okay, yeah, that’s a dangerous level of cute.”

“She looks exactly like you,” George added. “Like… scarily identical. Mini Pierre.”

“I know,” Pierre said softly. “Same eyes. Same smile. Same chaos energy. Kika says she’s me with glitter and pink socks.”

“And what does Kika think of the haircut?” asked Lando.

Pierre snorted. “She was horrified. But she laughed so hard, she couldn’t even be mad. Said it was a small price to pay for family bonding. Then made me promise to wear a hat on the grid walk.”

“Are you going to?” Oscar asked.

“Nope.”

That earned another round of laughter.

“Of course not,” Max said, grinning. “He’s too proud.”

“Damn right I am. I might start a trend,” Pierre declared. “Buzz cuts by children. All the rage in Milan next season.”

Charles fake-sneered. “You can keep that to yourself, mon ami.”

They were still teasing him later in the driver’s meeting. When the team officials handed out strategy folders, Pierre placed his phone on the table like a proud dad at a PTA meeting, showing off photos of Yn and the makeshift salon she’d set up in the kitchen with a towel cape and a Hello Kitty comb.

“I even gave her a tip,” he told the group. “Two scoops of gelato.”

“She undercharged you,” Lando muttered. “This haircut’s gonna haunt you in every interview.”

Pierre shrugged. “Let them ask. I’ll tell them: ‘My daughter made me look like this. What’s your excuse?’”

Max held out a fist. “Fair play, man. You win this round.”

Pierre bumped it. “Always.”

The next morning, he FaceTimed Yn before heading to the track. She answered from Nonna’s kitchen, surrounded by markers, glitter glue, and what looked like a Barbie head with a similarly questionable haircut.

“Bonjour, Papa!” she chirped, waving.

“Bonjour, ma chérie. You’re up early.”

“I made pancakes with Nonna! And then I gave Barbie a makeover like you.”

Pierre smiled. “She looks… fantastic.”

“Do you still have your haircut?”

“Of course,” he said, turning his head so she could see all the uneven angles. “Still just the way you did it.”

Yn squealed. “Yay! Did everyone love it?”

“They did,” he said. “Everyone laughed a lot.”

“Good!” She paused, growing very serious. “Do you think you’ll win the race because of my haircut?”

He laughed. “I think I might.”

“You better,” she said firmly. “Because it’s lucky hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And if you win, I want a unicorn.”

“A real one?”

She tapped her chin. “No, just the toy. But with sparkles.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

As the call ended, Pierre slipped the phone into his pocket and looked at himself in the mirror one last time. The haircut was ridiculous, sure. But the love behind it? That was real. That was everything.

He grinned—crooked hairline and all—and headed to the garage with his daughter’s voice still ringing in his ears:

“Lucky hair, Papa!”

And maybe, just maybe, it would be.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

-💚🐍

[littlelamy]

the basement smelled like boys, no not dirty boys—not gross, like that—but a mix cologne and weed, a smell that followed rafe everywhere. you were perched right on rafe's lap, plush thighs bare, skirt riding up high, showing your lace thong while his big hand wrapped around your waist like a seatbelt. barry’s voice floated somewhere in the background, talking shit about something, and the other guys laughed, passing the blunt in a lazy circle.

you blinked up at rafe with big, glossy eyes and gave a little pout. “can i try it?” you whined out.

rafe didn’t even look down at you. he just smirked and shook his head slowly, eyes locked on the joint as it made its way around. “no, baby. this is for grown-ups.”

you gasped. “i am a grown-up!”

“no,” he said, finally looking at you, his mouth curling like he was trying not to laugh. “you’re my pink little slut. grown-ups”—he pointed at himself, then barry, then the guy across the couch who had an eyebrow ring and no shirt—“that’s grown-ups.”

you crossed your arms, your tits pressing up and out over the top of your babyphat baby tee, and gave him your most cutest look. “please? i just wanna try. one little puff. pretty please, rafe…”

he stared at you for a long second. then sighed, muttered, “fuck,” under his breath, and reached out to grab the joint as it came back around. he brought it to your lips with two fingers, the other hand sliding up your thigh for comfort.

“small hit,” he said. “don’t embarrass yourself.”

you grinned like you’d won the lottery. leaned forward, lips parted, and took a little drag.

you coughed immediately. your whole body jerked forward on his lap and your eyes went glassy with tears. barry cackled while someone else slapped their knee.

“aw, shit man!” someone said. “she ain’t built for it.”

you hacked and gasped, hands fluttering, clutching at rafe’s chest like he could rescue you from your own lungs. he rubbed your back, smirking down at you with a mix of amusement and affection that made your belly twist.

“you okay, princess?” he asked.

“i hate you,” you croaked, voice all raspy, eyes watering. but your giggle gave you away, even as you blinked through the tears.

he leaned in, kissed the corner of your eye, whispered, “drama queen.”

you settled back into his lap, still coughing once or twice, but the warmth was already spreading through your limbs. everything felt a little funny. not ha-ha funny, but loose and tingling. your skin buzzed where his hands touched you, like baby fireflies were crawling along your thighs, your hips, your waist.

you squirmed, his brow twitched soon after. “don’t start.”

“what?” you asked innocently, your voice light in contrast to your ass grinding down just a little as you adjusted.

he groaned more warning than an actual sound. “chi…”

“just moving.” you giggled again, but your hips didn’t stop.

the weed made everything feel…hot and needy. “baby,” you whispered, wiggling your hips, your breath ghosting against his ear. “you feel soooo good right now.”

his hand tightened on your waist. “baby.”

“you’re hard,” you whispered, like it was just between you and him and not the entire room full of stoned assholes who could definitely see you rolling your hips on his lap. “you’re big even when you’re not hard, but right now? fuck…”

his eyes snapped to yours, dark and molten. “you need stop.”

“or what?” you licked your lips, smiling, nose still flushed from the coughing fit. “you’ll spank me?”

he said nothing. just stared at you like he was debating whether to take you over his knee right there on barry’s shitty futon. the look alone made you clench, made your thighs squeeze around his.

you leaned in closer, tits brushing his chest. “maybe i want you to.”

ᡴꪫ tags below

taglist𑄽𑄺: @rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafedaddy01 @rafesangelita @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl @esquivelbianca @p45510n4f4shi0n @palomavz @cokewithcameron @donaldsonsgirl @yncoded @lilbunnysfics @solaceluna @icaqttt @alphabetically-deranged @bevstofu @wintercrows @st8rkey

[lay-z]

COD VACATION AU | PRT. 1 — SURPRISE

— poly!141 × fem!Reader

— 18+ | established romantic relationship; eventual smut; fluff; humor; cussing; all the good stuff:)

You've already booked and taken care of everything by the time your four boyfriends return from their deployment—much thanks to Kate Laswell for giving you a 48 hour head start with her call (the one that nearly gave you a bloody heart attack).

Once they walk over the threshold of the house you five share, you go through the usual routine with them—lots of welcome home cuddles and kisses, a hearty meal and a stiff drink, long showers and, depending who is up for it, sex.

Kate didn't exaggerate when she said they need a break; their eyes are sunken with dark circles, their bodies battered with bruises and sore muscles, their poor hands calloused and swollen from handling gear and weapons for weeks, their tummies too flat and lean for your liking after losing a bunch of weight again.

Johnny's bright blue eyes are lacking their sparkle and his mohawk has grown out, Kyle's usually flawless skin and plump lips are dry and chapped, Simon's acne on his face and back has returned full force, and John's beard looks like a rat's bushy nest.

It's quite a sad sight, truly, and it triggers your maternal caretaker instincts like crazy.

"So, uhm–" You're shifting on your feet in front of the large couch they're currently all sprawled on top of each other like a bunch of lazy alley cats.

"I've got some exciting news."

That makes their heads perk up in unison.

"Ye're pregnant!" Johnny exclaims first, eyes wide and regaining some of that sparkle until he earns a light smack against the back of his head from Simon, who's shushing him gruffly.

"Let 'er speak, ya numpty. 'm bloody tired of yer voice."

Johnny pouts. Kyle snorts, hazel eyes half-lidded and glassy with fatigue as he glances over at the two. He's snuggled up to John, his head resting on the older man's broad shoulder.

The Captain, who's been holding his breath since your little announcement, keeps his steel blue eyes trained on you like a hawk while his arm wraps around Kyle's shoulders supportingly.

"Go on, sweetheart. What's it you'd like to share with us?"

You flash a sugary smile, wanting nothing more than to make them feel better now that they're finally back home with you, safe and sound.

"Okay, so," you make a vague gesture at them, "you're all clearly exhausted and in dire need of a nice break–"

A gruff chorus of yes and aye comes from them, making you giggle as you shush them.

"Anyway, so... I booked us all a very nice apartment for ten days in Mallorca. Islas Baleares, baby!"

Crickets. Nothing. Your smile slowly fades by the milliseconds as you gauge their—nonexistent—reactions.

Kyle's chest is rising and falling slowly as he nuzzles John's chest, his lips slightly parted. Simon's head has tipped back against the sofa's backrest, his mask rucked up and exposing his open mouth as he snores, his large hand buried in Johnny's hair, kneading the short brown strands self-soothingly while the latter is snoring just as loudly, his bearded face buried into Simon's neck.

You really can't blame them, but your bottom lip still juts out in a pout.

"Not the best time for big announcements, love." John chuckles all gravelly, still somewhat conscious, though his eyes have fluttered shut as well. "Sounds great, though. I can't... wait." He yawns mid-sentence and your heart flutters as you drink in your sweet bunch of tough, yet very sleepy, soldiers.

"Yeah, I figured." You whisper, though more to yourself, as you walk towards the switch to turn the light off. "I'll try again tomorrow."

John gives a small approving wave, hand barely lifting off his thigh, before he's knocked out cold as well.

As you make your way upstairs towards the master bedroom, your steps feel a little lighter and you can breathe a little easier knowing your men are asleep downstairs—and you know, they'll come crawling under your blanket one by one as the night progresses.

Let's get these men to a tropical island, shall we? ☺️🌴🌤🌊⛱️🍹

[leighsartworks216]

Shut Up And Drive

Sylus x gn!Reader

Written set in the Raven universe, but can be read outside of it too. Sylus x reader isn't super in this, but it is hinted at

Had a guy behind me tonight flashing his brights on and off at me for no gd reason and it pissed me off enough to motivate me into writing this. So everyone say thank you asshole

Title from "Shut Up And Drive" by Rihanna

Warnings: action, car chases, street racing, motorcycles, swearing

Word Count: 753

Main Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Motors rumble on either side of you. You have to turn your head over your shoulders to see them; a couple of bikers decked in full gear, shiny visors looking right back at you. The one on your left pulls up to ride side-by-side, far too close for comfort. His hand reaches out quickly-

You kick his bike. Cars behind you swerve and honk as he goes tumbling down with it. The guy to your right speeds up, but you're faster, throttle pushed to the max as you take a sharp turn. You lean into it, tucked so low on your bike your chest is pressed up against it. The bike in your side mirror takes the turn clumsily, slowing down to avoid hitting a pole before speeding right back up.

Two more bikes pull out - one in front, one behind. You swerve around the frontrunner, slotting yourself precariously between two cars headed the other direction.

These must be the guys Sylus told you about.

You pull up sharp, arcing your bike in a semi-circle behind a car that just passed. The bikes zip by as you speed off into an alley on the other side of the road.

In all your time as a street rat, you've gotten good at knowing the roads and alleys in the cities you've lived in. You know Linkon best; you lived there most of your life, hunting out the best places to survive. But the N109 Zone's layout is no stranger to you. Even now that you can live in comfort, sometimes even luxury, you made it a point to know the lay of the land, exactly for situations like this.

The alley is narrow, barely wide enough to fit through. It curves, arcs. You kick against the wall around a turn, slipping down another path and back out onto the main road. At least one motor is still just behind you. You slip back into the flow of traffic.

When you look behind, only one guy follows. He leans down, kicking his bike to the absolute limit to keep up. Cars pass by your side, one after another. Colored blurs that reflect the dull sunset.

Another intersection comes up fast. Red lights hang in the air. Cars filter past.

You speed up.

The world passes so fast.

A barely-there gap in the first stream of traffic. Just behind it: a massive semi, hauling who-knows-what.

You swivel your bike into the gap. And quickly pull it up hard to the side.

Your bike slips underneath you, angled harshly with the ground. A black-red mist lays out beneath you like a carpet, protecting you as you slide against the asphalt underneath the semi's load. It's claustrophobic; trapped between the under-workings of this massive vehicle and hard blacktop. Your heart is racing. Head dizzy with the stench of gasoline.

You love it.

On the other side of the intersection, your bike is pushed back onto its wheels by the mist. You skid to an easy stop right in front of Sylus at the side of the road. He leans lazily against his own bike, arms crossed and smirking.

"Have fun, sweetie?"

The other bike comes in at a normal speed, slowing to a stop just behind you. The man quickly pulls off his helmet. He's young; bright-eyed and mouth agape.

"That was the coolest thing I've ever seen!" He laughs breathlessly, running a gloved hand through sweaty hair. He looks at Sylus with awe. "You didn't say they were such a badass!"

He shrugs. "You said you wanted a challenging race. Challenge enough for you?"

The biker nods enthusiastically. He turns back to you. "Shit, I'm sorry about Johnny back there. We take our races seriously, but trying to shut your bike off was way off the mark. He deserved that kick."

You nod, then hold your hand out. He laughs again as he eagerly jumps off his bike, jogging up to shake your hand.

"Lemme know if you wanna race again. That was awesome!"

He's still got a big grin on his face when he slips his helmet back on and hops on his bike. A few cars go by, and he pulls it around to head back the way you came. The rumbling motor disappears into the city noise.

Sylus grabs the chin of your helmet, turning your head to face him. His other hand flips up your visor. He grins at the sight of your own victorious smile. "Think you can handle one more race?"

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @nezuswritingdesk @anaathxma @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @nerrivm @ichosesparklingtorment @schnittled @animegamerfox @flamedancer13 @rebloggingislove @moonlight-inthe-sea @persepolys @satorubabee @sleepykittycx @perla-drg @17chuuya @slovesyouuu @leiakitty @lemonn015

[soulsmangione]

party 4 u

luigi mangione x reader

SUMMARY: kappa kappa gamma was never the sorority to throw very many parties. that is, until one of their very own members has a unique situationship with the one and only, phi kappa psi, luigi mangione. it took you ages to convince the president of your sorority to let you throw a party, but when everyone found it that it was secretly to gauge the attention of him, they allowed it.

WARNINGS: dark!luigi, fratboy!luigi, SMUT, dubcon, breeding kink, angst af, bondage

NOTES: i’ve had this idea for FOREVER just ask @luigisbambinaaa hehehe… i wasn’t sure which route i wanted to go with it but ive decided. ENJOY<3

·.· ˚ * ✧ * ˚ ·.· ·.· ˚ * ✧ * ˚ ·.· ·.· ˚ * ✧ * ˚ ·.· ·.· ˚ * ✧ * ˚ ·.· ·.· ˚ * ✧ * ˚ ·.·

"it's already twelve in the morning, y/n!"

stood in the middle of three of your beloved sorority sisters, you stayed in one spot, arms folded across your chest as the loud rap music thumped through your ears. you were quite drunk at this point, but still coherent.

"whatever," you scoff, pretending not to care. "i heard that lucas is here, maybe i'll finally let him-"

"y/n! you can't lose hope." your friend kylie encourages, squeezing your shoulder gently. "my boyfriend's one of his close friends, and he said he's coming."

"i'm going to go find lucas." you shoved your half-full cup of some ridiculous mixture of alcohol into kylie's hands. "at this point, i hope he doesn't come." you roll your eyes, pushing through the swarming crowd of sweaty bodies. for never being a sorority known to throw parties, kappa kappa gamma had a large turnout.

at this rate, the entire building was almost body-to-body full of drunken college kids. the only place that was somewhat open was the make-shift dancefloor that everyone collectively decided on.

that's exactly where you spot lucas.

he's leaned up against a fireplace, beer in hand, laughing with some of his friends. you stagger over towards the boy, smiling kindly at him, yet it doesn't give you the feeling that he gives you.

"hi!" you exclaim, and his friends give him an approving look. they all say hello to you, then let you and lucas be.

"hey, y/n. you know, i've actually been wanting to talk all night." lucas grins down at you, his breath reeking of corona light. you ruffle his dark blonde hair, something you'd probably never do while sober.

"good thing i've been wanting to talk to you all night," you lie. "come on, dance with me!" you exclaim, not giving the man a chance to respond before you're dragging him behind you by his wrist.

he obliges, quite obviously happy to be within your company.

you're not quite sure what song is currently playing, yet you have no issue dancing when lucas grabs your hand and twirls you around, having you end up with your back pressed against the front of him. grinding your hips back and forth across his lower region, you're quick to notice him harden under you.

spinning around to face him, you giggle. "you got a little problem?" you shout through the loudness in your ears.

"maybe," he chuckles, snaking his arms around your waist and squeezing your ass. as he does so, he looks up towards the front door, his facial expression contorts as if he's just seen a ghost. "uhh, i've gotta go."

"what?" you blink, and lucas has disappeared into the sea of madness. "what the fuck?" you spin on your heel to see whatever the hell lucas saw, and that's when you lock eyes with a curly-haired italian boy.

a curly-haired italian boy whose face is currently stone cold, eyebrows furrowed down at you. he's angry, yet he looks so good. his black curly hair is longer than he usually keeps it, and he's dressed in a tight fitted black shirt and sweats. you both stare at each other for seconds before he lunges towards you at a fast-pace. you don't move, just drunkenly sway until he's met up with you.

"what the fuck were you doing with him?" luigi seethes, grasping you by your arm and squeezing. before you can open your mouth to respond, luigi is pulling you off to a long, narrow hallway that leads to rows of bedrooms.

"oww!" you whine, batting at his hand. he doesn't move it. "look who finally decided to show up."

"look who decided to be a fucking slut," luigi's voice boomed. you had never seen him so angry before. the sentence made your heart drop. "with lucas out of all people, really?

"oh fuck you!" you spit, snatching your arm away from him. "if you cared, you would have texted me back the other night."

"i was busy," luigi's tone was still stern. there wasn't very many people around the two of you in this hallway to begin with, yet when they witnessed luigi pull you over there, the place emptied quick. "you know i'd come to you the second that you ask."

"do i know that?" you retort, folding your arms. the alcohol from earlier was definitely making its way through your system now, giving you that tingly, warm sensation.

"i can't believe you," luigi sneered, shaking his head and running his tongue over his bottom lip. "that guy's such a fucking loser, anyways." luigi smirks at his own comment.

"fuck off, lu. let me enjoy my party." you put your two hands on his chest and shove him backwards. he stumbles back, snatching you by your wrist which is still lied upon his upper body.

“that’s cute,” he mutters as you pull against his grasp. his grip only tightens. “your party that you threw for me?” he chuckles menacingly.

“what are you talking about?” you demand, cheeks flushing rose-petal pink. fuck. “let me go.”

“don’t act stupid, you didn’t think kylie, the girl who never stops yapping, wasn’t going to fill me in?” he presses his body to yours, closing the space between you two. he grabs your other hand with his free hand, and unkindly shoves you against the cold wall. the alcohol in your system blurs your vision as you blink up innocently at the man.

“you’re just so fuckin’ obsessed with me, huh? so fuckin’ needy,” he rasps, connecting his lips to the nape of your neck. he sucks harshly, causing a gasp to escape your lips. “threw an entire party just for my attention, yeah?”

“no,” you retort back, but it’s useless. “go back out and enjoy your friends, or maybe even my friends. i want to sleep.”

“uh uh,” he pulls his lips away from your skin, leaving you cold. “i came all this way, baby. just for you to abandon me?” he questions, his voice softer now.

“you’re being mean.” you whine, tears threatening the corner of your eyes.

something shifts in luigi’s eyes, something dark and lustful. “mean,” he taunts, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “i’ll show you fuckin’ mean.” he growls into your ear.

without a second thought, you’re two steps behind luigi who is dragging you through the pouring crowd of people. the music is loud in your ears, heart-thumping at whatever luigi’s last statement meant.

it feels as if all eyes are on the two of you, you stumbling and tripping behind his tall figure.

“where are you going?” you yell through the noise.

“shut up.” luigi mumbles, arriving to the front door. he opens it, drags you outside, then slams it shut behind you.

outside, the air is cool against your skin. you had on a tight black dress paired with skin-colored tights.

“i’m cold.” you babble, still following luigi. he rounds the corner to the backyard, where cars are lined across the street.

“won’t be in a minute,” he mumbles to himself before arriving to an all blacked out audi. he opens the back door hastily, pushing you in as if he can’t wait any longer. “stay put.” he commands before climbing in the back with you.

“wh- what are you—“

his hands are everywhere on you at once. kneading your breasts, running them in-between your thighs, wrapped around your neck— it’s like he couldn’t decide on what he wanted to do with you first.

“taking what’s mine, that’s all,” he smirks down at you before he unties the cinch string tying his sweats up to his v-line. he pulls it all the way out of his sweatpants before grabbing your wrists and bounding them behind your back. “you’re not going anywhere.” he mutters, breath tickling the back of your neck.

“luigi—“ his name flies breathlessly out of your mouth. you can’t even comprehend what’s happening, so you let him do whatever he’s got planned.

“shhh,” he presses his hand to your mouth. “let’s get these off, yeah?” he tugs at your tights before ripping them open with both hands.

“hey!” you scream, trying to hide how much he’s turning you on. you squirm under his grasp as it tightens on you so hard that you’re unable to move beneath him.

“y’know what?” he asks you rhetorically. “i wanna see that pretty little mouth stuffed with my cock.” he smirks devilishly before pushing you onto your knees on the car floor. you oblige, sliding down comfortably in front of him, hands still bound behind your back. he’s quick to slip his sweats and underwear off, his hardened length springing free as he does so.

“mmm…” you hum at the sight of him, eyes widened as you look up with him with doe-like eyes.

“look at you,” he coos, pumping himself a few times before he entwines his fingers in your hair. “think you can finally take all of me?”

“mhm,” you purr, licking from the bottom of his shaft to the tip as an attempt to tease him. he trembles at the action, a soft moan escaping his lips. “gonna be so proud of me.”

you swirled your tongue around his tip agonizingly slow, wrapping your lips around it and sucking gently. he’s writhing beneath you as if he can’t wait a second longer for you to take him.

he’s quick to push your head down on his length, and not even half-way down you can feel him hit the back of your throat. your eyes begin to water, a small gag escaping you.

you bob your head up and down on his length, feeling him harden even more while inside of you.

“fuuuck, baby.” he drags, his fingers still wrapped into your freshly messed up hair, guiding you up and down himself.

you can feel the wetness already pooling beneath your legs, grinding against nothing as you attempted to deep throat him.

finally, you’re successful. his eyes widen down at you as his entire length is shoved somewhere deep in the back of your throat, your eyes spilling with tears now. he takes you by your hair, pulling you up for air. you gasp, makeup staining your cheeks as you wipe your lips dry.

“you’re such a good girl,” he praises you, running his thumb across your cheek. he grips your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger, forcing you to look at him in the eyes. “you’re never going to look at another man after i’m done with you.”

luigi hooks his hands under your arms, lifting you up so you’re now straddling him. you can feel his length press against the heat of your core, and you whimper above him.

“so wet for me already,” he hisses. “i’ve barely even touched you.”

“please,” you beg, instinctively grinding your hips against his cock. “i need you.”

“oh yeah, you need me, huh?” he scoffs, his fingers quick to find your clit. he rubs slow, taunting motions around it, sending pleasure throughout. “what about lucas, hmm?” he teases.

“i don’t want him,” you mumble sheepishly, pawing at his shirt. “i need you, lu. please.” you whine. he slips his shirt over his head, and ties it around your mouth with quick precision. it serves as a make-shift gag, holding you back from screaming at him to just fuck you.

“all tied up in the back of my car, begging me to fuck you. it’s pathetic,” he chuckles, his finger guiding your clit to an aching sensation. it bubbled up through your lower stomach, heat rising and falling with every motion. you bucked your hips in response, eyes rolled to the back of your head as wetness began to spill from you. “i think your ready, baby.”

with no other warning, luigi lifts you up and slides you down onto his long, throbbing cock. he doesn’t even let his length stretch you out, just rams you downwards to be inside of you.

you cry out at the motion, the pain searing through you so hard below that it blurs your vision and you have to blink away a stream of tears. you try to tell him it hurts, but instead you’re met with a half-choking sound from the make-shift gag.

he lets you sit all the way on his length before he bucks his hips up and down, thrusting in and out of you. his thrusts are hard and demanding, like he’s got something to prove.

“oh my god,” he grunts, his thrusts picking up speed. “you’re so… fucking tight.” he huffs, his hips doing all the work as you sat there mindlessly.

luigi’s hands move to your hips, gripping them so tight it’s bound to leave bruises. he uses them to guide you up and down, not letting you move a single muscle. he wanted to fuck you.

you can feel that sensation rising deep in your stomach, coiling up all the way to your chest. you’re breathing deep, heaving against the black cloth shoved carelessly into your mouth. you strain on top of him, your belly tightening as you begin to squirm with the brink of an orgasm.

“not yet, not fuckin’ done with you yet,” luigi warns, biting his lip hard. he fucks into you with such raw, deep passion, that you completely forget his words from earlier. “mmmm, y/n.” he groans below you.

his lips are parted, hair sweaty and matted against his forehead. he’s breathing so deep— so fast against you. he takes his hand to your dress, ripping the fabric in two so you’re breasts bounce out towards him. you don’t even care at this point.

he’s quick to grip your hips again, but this time he runs his tongue across your nipple. it’s so sensitive that you let out a muffled cry, squeezing your eyes shut. he bites down on your perfect, pink nipple, running it between his teeth.

he’s hitting those delicate sweet spots inside of you, all while teasing your tits at the same time. you hold it together for as long as you possibly can, but he knows you’re about to crumple beneath his power.

“want me to fill you up, yeah?” he grits his teeth, and you can tell he’s coming close. “ruin your fuckin’ life by putting a baby in you, that what you want?”

“mhm.” you nod at his request, and it’s enough to send you both flying into one of the most intense orgasms either of you have felt.

your body twitches on top of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let yourself go. serenity washes through you, reaching every point of your body.

at the same time, luigi releases his thick, white cum deep inside you. he groans loudly, breathing deep as his body shakes beneath you. your legs go numb, and they lose all strength to hold yourself up, causing you to slip right next to luigi. as you lift off of him, his warm substance drips from your core and onto his seat.

you sit there, legs spread, fucked dumbly. you throw your head back, your breaths hitching in the back of your throat as you try to take a deep one, but the gag prevents any air flow.

luigi is still twitching, groaning, gasping for breath. he turns over towards you, and runs his finger tips over your entire being, sending shivers down your spine.

“so good f’me,” he hums as he unties his shirt and the string holding you back. “i’m so proud of you.”

finally untied, you couldn’t even bring yourself to say anything. you sat there, nodding at him as he took you into his arms. his biceps wrapped around you as if he was protecting you from himself, the man who just ruthlessly fucked you in the back of his sports car.

he tucked you deeper into his chest, your head pressed against his shoulder as you still trembled.

“it’s alright, love, we’re done now.” he soothes, stroking your hair gently. you only nod in response, the pleasure still coursing through your veins. “let’s clean you up and head back to mine, yeah?”

“mhm.” you purr, letting him take care of you.

it’s what he did best, not anyone else.

[jamesdeanbby]

Omgg can we get more of Cade!reader if you're not busy?? xx

────۶ৎ "that's my sister!"

Johnny is not thrilled that his best mate is trying to get in his sister's pants..

warnings : dallas being a feral flirt.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: AHHH I LOVE THIS TROPEE

The screen door creaks open like it’s mourning, and then bang—there’s a body slumped in the frame. Leather jacket torn. Jeans streaked with blood. Dally Winston, all swagger and smoke and sporting a busted lip, staggers in like the devil got kicked outta Hell and landed on your porch.

Johnny’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, flipping through some battered comic, and he jumps to his feet the second he sees that familiar silhouette. “Dal?!”

But Dally just groans, dragging himself into the hallway. “Hey, Johnnycake...”

Then he sees you.

Your hair’s tied up, loose strands falling into your face. You’re barefoot in soft shorts and an old t-shirt that says “cowgirl” in cracked red letters across the chest. You pause, wide-eyed in the kitchen doorway.

“Jesus,” you mutter, rushing to him. “What the hell happened to you?”

Dallas leans on the wall, smirking despite the split in his lip. “Nothin’ a kiss from you wouldn’t fix, sweetheart.”

Johnny groans behind you. “Oh my god.”

You ignore them both and help Dally onto the couch, careful not to jostle the shoulder that’s turning blue. He lets you touch him without flinching, watching you with those stormy eyes like he’s trying to burn you into his memory.

You go to get the first-aid kit, and when you come back, he’s slouched with his legs spread wide, arms thrown along the couch back, watching you like you’re his favorite sin.

“Take your shirt off,” you say simply, setting down gauze and alcohol.

Dallas whistles low. “If I had a nickel every time a pretty girl said that…”

You slap the alcohol bottle against his knee, hard enough to make him flinch. “Shirt. Off.”

He grins like it’s Christmas and peels off the bloodied leather, then his t-shirt, revealing bruises and gashes all over his chest. Johnny folds his arms and leans against the wall, trying not to gag from the pure horn-dog energy radiating off his best friend.

You start dabbing at the wounds, focused and gentle.

Dally hisses. “Mmm—thought you’d be rougher with me, sweetheart.”

“She’s patching you up, not seducing you, jackass,” Johnny mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I dunno,” Dallas purrs, eyes on your lips as you bite them in concentration. “Feels real intimate.”

You glance at Johnny over your shoulder. “You want me to kick him out?”

Johnny shrugs. “Nah, let him bleed out.”

Dally grins, teeth all stained red, and grabs your wrist as you wipe his collarbone.

His voice drops, almost quiet. “You always this good with your hands, babe?”

You freeze for a second, your cheeks heating, and Johnny groans audibly. “DAL. That’s my SISTER.”

“So?” Dally smirks. “She ain’t complainin’.”

You rip your wrist out of his grip with a glare. “Try that again, and I’ll pour the alcohol in your mouth instead.”

“Ooh, kinky,” he says with a wink.

Johnny throws a pillow at his head. “Get OUT, man. Go die in the alley or somethin’.”

But Dally won’t leave. He watches you work like he’s found religion. You wrap his ribs, tape his shoulder, wipe the blood from under his nose. Every now and then, he shifts closer than necessary: his knee bumps yours, his fingers graze your thigh, his eyes never leave your face.

“You're a real angel, y’know that?” he murmurs, low and hoarse.

You sigh. “You're not even bleeding that bad. Just drunk and full of yourself.”

He smiles, slow and sleepy. “Still thinkin’ about that kiss, doll.”

Johnny lets out a noise like a dying animal. “DAL!”

Dallas laughs, tossing his head back against the couch, and smirks at Johnny from under half-lidded eyes. “What? She’s legal.”

You slap a bandage across his chest extra hard.

He hisses—then moans. “God, I love her.”

Johnny looks to the ceiling. “I swear to god, I'm gonna drown you in peroxide.”

You finish bandaging him, shaking your head with a half-laugh, half-sigh. “You’re impossible.”

Dally tilts his head, voice low and dirty: “Baby, you have no idea.”

And Johnny, poor Johnny, just grabs a soda from the fridge and mutters, “I hate my life.”

[velvetinks]

Three on the carpet

Pedro Pascal x f!Reader

Warnings: None – just sweet family moments, mild baby chaos, and Pedro being the most doting dad imaginable

The car rolled up to the venue, and your heart did a double flip—not because of the cameras flashing outside, but because your daughter had just spit up a little on Pedro’s tux.

“Babe,” you whispered, dabbing at his shoulder with a baby wipe. “You’re seconds away from going viral for smelling like formula.”

Pedro laughed, one of those deep, full laughs that made your chest warm. “Hey, let them say I’m seasoned. Like a good stew.”

You rolled your eyes as the door opened and chaos—the kind with bright lights, shouting photographers, and handlers guiding your family toward the carpet—exploded in front of you.

Pedro stepped out first, handsome and composed, though you saw the way he subtly checked over his shoulder to make sure you were okay. Then came your turn, heels clicking softly against the carpet as you carried your baby girl in one arm, the other wrapped around Pedro’s.

“She’s falling asleep,” you whispered, shifting her little bow-covered head on your chest.

“She’s already cooler than us,” he grinned, brushing her tiny cheek with his knuckle. “Watch, she’s gonna be on every headline tomorrow: ‘Pedro Pascal’s Daughter Steals the Show.’”

You weren’t used to this kind of attention—cameras, microphones, people asking what brand you were wearing and what it’s like being “Mrs. Pascal.” But with Pedro’s hand on the small of your back and your baby curled up between you, none of it felt overwhelming.

Pedro paused mid-carpet and looked at you. “You okay?”

You nodded. “More than okay.”

“Good,” he said, eyes full of warmth. “Because I’m proud to walk with both of my girls.”

That got caught in your throat. The man might be a professional heartthrob, but he reserved all the real romance for you. And tonight, it felt like the whole world could see it.

During the interview line, someone asked if the baby was staying up for the awards.

“She’s got better things to do than watch her dad lose to someone named Jeremy,” Pedro joked, adjusting the carrier strap slung across his shoulder.

You laughed softly, and the interviewer cooed over how beautiful your daughter looked in her tiny tulle dress.

By the time you were inside the theater, seated and calm under the warm lights of the show, Pedro was still gently bouncing your daughter in his arms, even after she’d fallen asleep.

“You know,” he whispered, kissing your temple, “I used to dream about nights like this.”

You looked over at him, your hand resting lightly on his knee.

“Red carpets and awards?”

“No,” he said, gaze soft and sure. “Us. You. Her. Being a family. Getting to show it off a little.”

And when his name was called for Best Actor—not even expecting it, completely stunned you watched him kiss your forehead, whisper “I love you both,” and climb the stage still with baby spit on the shoulder of his tux.

[inexplicifics]

An omegaverse-AU Witcher smut fic in my Blooming 'verse for @domaystic prompt 8, on all fours, pairing Eskel/Geralt/Gweld, below the cut or on AO3:

Gweld runs a hand through Geralt’s hair and whispers a fervent curse. Geralt’s eyes are closed in clear bliss, every line of his pale body radiating pleasure. He’s on all fours on the bed, knees spread wide for balance, hands fisted tightly in the blankets; Eskel is kneeling behind him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as he pants for breath, hands white-knuckled on Geralt’s hips as he clings to his self-control. His prick is making gloriously filthy squelching noises as he rocks it slowly in and out of Geralt’s cunt, half-blown knot catching each time and making Geralt moan.

Said moans feel amazing, because Gweld’s prick is buried to the root in Geralt’s throat, Geralt’s nose smushed inelegantly against Gweld’s stomach. Every moan shivers up Gweld’s spine, and he’s shuddering with the effort of staying still and letting Geralt take what he wants.

Somehow, though, Gweld hasn’t quite lost the ability to speak. “Our gorgeous omega,” he croaks, throat dry with lust, and strokes a hand through Geralt’s hair again. “Is this good, Wolf?” He meets Eskel’s blown-dark gaze and grins. “Going to come on our alpha’s prick?”

Geralt clearly clenches down, because Eskel groans like a dying man and Geralt makes an indistinct but very clearly pleased noise around Gweld’s prick, and then swallows and tries to press closer, and Gweld has to reach back and brace himself on the headboard to keep from collapsing in an inelegant heap.

“Yeah?” he rasps, groping for words as well as balance. “You like that idea? Going to come on his prick and let him knot you? Gods, you look so good on his knot, smell so good.” The whole room is full of the scent of happy, lustful omega and equally happy alpha, and Gweld’s own beta scent is not nearly as soothing as it usually is, not when he’s nearly mad with desire. Betas are less susceptible to omegas’ pheromones, not immune, and Geralt’s his mate; at this point Gweld isn’t sure he could make himself stop touching Geralt for anything less than an earthquake, and maybe not even then.

“Not gonna last,” Eskel grits out. “Gods, Wolf.”

Geralt hums happily again, arching his back in what isn’t quite a formal omega presentation mostly because he’s still got Gweld’s prick down his throat. Eskel rumbles deep in his throat.

“Knot him,” Gweld gasps. “Fuck, ‘Skel, do it; I want to see him come apart on your knot.”

Geralt whimpers, clearly approving; Eskel roars, a deep reverberating noise, and shoves his hips forward, and Geralt cries out around Gweld’s prick, shaking through what looks like a magnificent peak as Eskel’s knot locks them together. Gweld holds himself still by sheer determination.

He is rewarded by Geralt’s hands unclenching from the sheets and rising to clasp his hips, and Geralt blinking blown-black eyes at him and tugging gently, coaxing Gweld’s hips into a steady rhythm. Geralt swallows every time Gweld’s prick sinks into his throat, and his tongue dances across the sensitive skin as Gweld pulls out again, and Gweld holds onto the headboard hard enough that he suspects he’s cracked the wood and clings to Geralt’s hair with his other hand and fucks his omega’s mouth desperately. It doesn’t take long at all before his peak washes over him with roughly the same delicacy as a tidal wave; Gweld howls his pleasure to the bed-curtains and crumples slowly to the mattress, Geralt mouthing at his prick contentedly until it finally goes soft. Not that it’s likely to stay soft for long, given witcher refractory periods and the fact that the room smells so damn good.

Eskel rumbles and sits back on his heels, tugging Geralt up until the omega is sprawled back against his chest, still-hard prick on full display, a gorgeous flush on his pale cheeks and chest. Gweld takes a couple of deep breaths, savoring the scent of his mates’ mingled pleasure, and then rolls up onto his hands and knees and crawls over to put his mouth on Geralt’s prick. He isn’t quite as good at this as Geralt is - Geralt loves using his mouth on his mates, and is rather terrifyingly skilled already; Gweld’s a little worried that in a few decades Geralt’s mouth might actually be lethal to experience - but he’s no slouch, and Geralt is already on edge.

He comes with a beautiful moan after only a few moments, and Gweld swallows everything Geralt has to give him and then glances up to exchange a wicked grin with Eskel and shuffles down just a little so he can lick delicately at the tender skin of Geralt’s cunt, stretched wide around Eskel’s knot. Geralt twitches and makes a glorious keening noise, and his prick starts to harden again. Gweld grins to himself and keeps licking, lapping up the slick and the little leaking trickles of Eskel’s spend, lingering over the soft skin of Geralt’s thighs, mouthing at Eskel’s heavy balls to make the alpha groan and shudder and rock up into Geralt, grinding his knot into the omega and making Geralt whimper plaintively.

Gweld is hard again, too, by the time he takes pity on Geralt’s growing desperation and puts his mouth back on Geralt’s lovely prick. He shoves a hand down between his legs, planning to get himself off while he sucks Geralt, but Eskel growls quietly. “Don’t,” he says. “You’ll need that.” He rocks his hips, knot pulling halfway out of Geralt before it sinks back in; Geralt yelps and shudders between them. “Your turn next,” Eskel adds. “You want that, Wolf? Both of us filling you up?”

Geralt takes a great gasping breath and reaches down to grab at Gweld’s shoulder. “C’mere,” he says, and Gweld lets himself be pulled up onto his knees, chest pressed against Geralt’s so he can kiss Eskel over Geralt’s shoulder and then claim Geralt’s mouth with his. Geralt bites at Gweld’s lips, teeth gloriously sharp; Gweld shudders and moans.

“Both,” Geralt rasps, and wraps a hand around Gweld’s prick, guiding it to rest against him where Eskel’s partially-blown knot still fills him.

“Fuck,” Gweld bites out. “You sure?”

“Yes. Now,” Geralt demands, and Eskel huffs out a disbelieving laugh.

“Guess we’ve got our orders,” he says.

“Guess we do,” Gweld agrees, and reaches down to help guide his prick; it takes some effort, but at last he’s sinking into Geralt’s drenched, furnace-hot cunt, and Geralt makes a wild noise and clamps a hand on Gweld’s ass and hauls him in, far faster than Gweld would have dared. Eskel whimpers - the pressure against the sensitive skin of his knot has to be agonizingly good - and Gweld moans, and Geralt lets his head fall back on Eskel’s shoulder in obvious ecstasy.

“More,” he orders. “Fill me full.”

Well then. Gweld’s never done less than his best for his mates, and he’s certainly not going to start now.

He puts his back into it, reveling in the scent of his mates’ pleasure and the blissful moans rising from their throats as much as in the feeling of Geralt’s sweet cunt clenching around his prick and Eskel’s together.

This is what long winter nights are for, and Gweld is absolutely going to enjoy the hell out of this one.

[captainlondonman]

3 SHORT STORIES

HIGHWAY

Oh fuck, Troy shouted.

He was looking in his rear view mirror and saw the flashing lights of a police car speeding up behind him. Where the hell did they come from, the road was so quiet and he couldn’t see any sign of a car let alone a police car. When he seemed to be the only car on the road he thought he might as well let the engine have it and go a bit faster.

Not only was the light on top of the police car flashing but they were also flashing the beam lights. There was no alternative but to pull into the next layby and hope he could blag his way out of the situation

Troy pulled in and switched off the engine. Still looking in his rear view mirror he saw two policemen get out and walk over to the car one on each side. One of them knocked on the window gesturing for him to wind down the window so he could peer in. The guy filled the entire window his dark blue shirt bursting at the buttons. His shirt was open neck and as Troy looked up he could see the thick chest hair spilling out over the top. The short sleeves looked as though they were about to be ripped apart by the tanned muscles. His black belt was highly polished. From his seated position in his car Troy was looking straight at the guys crotch and there was no doubt about the large bulge. As if to tell Troy how much of a man he was ,he took one of his black leather gloved hands and gave the outline a casual squeeze.

‘So young man, looks as if you have been speeding. Quite a bit over the limit I would say from our speed gun. I think you had better get out of the car so we can have a chat.’

 As Troy opened the door so the policeman stood up straight and put on his peaked hat covering the shiny mane of dark wavy hair and sporting a 5o’clock shadow that seemed to take over most of his face.

The other policeman could have been his brother also spilling out of his uniform but this one had a thick beard and stood with his legs apart and his hands on his hips.

‘So why were you speeding. In a rush?’

‘No, I was…’

‘No ,what you say ‘ the sergeant spat out

‘No Sir.

‘That’s better boy.’

‘I didn’t realise that I was really speeding and as there was no one of the road I just seem to drive a bit faster’.

‘Sure you were not trying get away from us?’

‘Definitely not Sir.’

Perhaps you have some drugs on you that we were not meant to see.’

‘No, I bloody well do not do drugs.’

‘Not sure I like your attitude boy, I could say you are insulting two police officers. Put your hands behind your back now.’

‘But..’

‘No But I am the policeman here’

Troy had no option but to put his hands behind his back as the officer took out a pair of handcuffs and placed them around Troy’s wrists.’

‘Think I need to check if there is anything secreted in that big gob of yours.’

The officer brought his hands around Troy’s body and as he did so Troy could feel the heat of the officer’s body pressing against him but most of all it was the bulge he could feel settling into his crack.

‘Open wide boy.’

As Troy opened his mouth he suddenly felt the black leather gloved hand stick a finger into his mouth and move it around. 

‘Need to check a bit more.’

With that he put in a second and then a third finger until Troy’s mouth was full of black leather searching everywhere. Troy started to choke.

‘Don’t bloody well think of throwing up boy and ruining my leather gloves, Just breathe properly and take it all. I want these leather fingers to have a good look.’

‘Doesn’t look as if there is anything there but of course you could be hiding them somewhere else.’

‘I assure you Sir I have no drugs on me.’

‘I’m still not so sure .I think we need a further search.’

Mike unbutton the guy’s flies and pull his jeans down.

The other policeman stepped forwards and quickly undid the buttons and yanked down around Troy’s ankles.

‘So you go around commando do you. Like to show off that cock of yours.’ Sargeant Mike said. ‘I can see why ,not bad for a young guy.’

The officer behind Troy moved back and said

‘Well you got my gloves nice and covered with your spit so this should not be too much of a problem, so now bend down.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Just carrying out another check that’s all. Legs apart.’

Troy knew he had to do as instructed and split his legs. He felt one gloved hand press down on his back to keep him bent and then without wasting any time the officer stretched Troy’s cheeks apart to expose his soft red hole.

‘Never know what you might be hiding up that pretty arse of yours.’

‘I tell you I have nothing

‘Remember that word Sir boy.’

‘Sir there is nothing there.’

‘Let me be the judge of that.’

The officer let his leather gloved finger enter the hole and move around.

Troy did not even flinch.

‘A big hole you got there boy. Think I need a further examination’ and with that he put a second finger in letting Troy’s saliva do its job. 

‘Now for a third which did cause Troy to move. However it made Troy push his arse out in into the officers hand so he could feel all three fingers deep inside him.

‘Not that bad from the way that arse of yours is pushing at my hand.’

‘Tell you what Sarg, this pussy boy is loving that hand of yours inside him. Getting a real boner, aint’ you son.’

The officer put his arm around Troy grasping his increasingly hard cock..

‘Took one look at you boy and knew what you really like. You like being examined by a cop don’t you.’

‘Yes Sir,’

Fuck that cock of yours is really stiff. I think you need more that just my gloved hand inside that arse of yours. It’s you lucky day as my mate loves to suck cock so you’re about to have 2 officers of the law deal with you back and front. Now let me get that zip of mine down as my prick is bursting to get out and let you have it.’

The police officer unzipped and with one of his black leather gloved hands pushed it down deep inside to pull out a rock hard thick cock, at least 8 inches and thick the whole way down like a hard wood baton. He thrust his cock between Troy’s legs so he could feel the full shaft rub up against his balls.

‘This is much better that any fingers up that hole of yours. I’ll let my cock find out what is up that nice soft arse of yours.’

The other officer said ‘Shit the guy is already letting some precum out of that slit of his. He really needs seeing to.’

‘Well what are you waiting for officer, get down and take in that firm dick of his. You know how much you like cock down that hairy mouth of yours. Just make sure you swallow all his spunk. We don’t want your uniform being covered in white juice. OK boy time to take my tool inside you.’

The officer let a large spit fall onto his shaft and took one of his gloved hands to run the length so the shaft was fully covered in spit.. Then he eased his prick to the waiting hole and started to press forward, Troy feeling the thick tool enter and force its way right up his waiting hole.

‘Much better that any hand eh boy?’

‘Christ yes Sir.’

‘I think better we shut you up whilst we both examine you.’

With that the office brought his arm around Troy and forced his leathered fingers into Troy’s mouth exploring his tongue and throat.

Having the policeman’s cock shaft him and the leather in his mouth was almost too much but then as he could feel his cock throb more than ever the other officer went down on his knees pulling out his own cock as he did so. Troy could feel the guy’s spiky beard against his cock head as he opened his mouth wider as well as taking Troy’s shaft onto his gloved hand. Troy now had black leather in his mouth and round his shaft. He could feel his cock entering further and further down the officers throat his tool totally covered in police spit. As the other officer pressed his cock up to the hilt, Troy’s arse expanded to take in the huge girth. The officer bent Troy’s head back so he could get all 4 fingers deep into his mouth, Troy sucking the black leather and being so turned on.

‘You fucking love this boy. Two officers giving you front and back.’

 As Troy felt his cock slip fully down the policeman’s throat so the other started to grind him in and other with greater speed. He was being worked in rhythm , and the smell of wet leather was inhaled as a drug.. Troy started to respond by thrusting his arse as much as he could into the buggering officer soihe could feel the thick forest of pubes and as he then moved his arse out so his cock sank deeper and deeper down the other throat.

‘That’s it boy take one officer’s cum and give yours to the other. ‘

Troy was almost in a stranglehold as his moans increased.

‘You fucking love this boy eh?’

‘Hmmmm…’ was all his could respond.

‘Yours are about to feel my spunk drive itself right up inside you and make sure you shoot your load fast and into my mate’s gob.’

 Troy could feel the officers cock throbbing and ready to explode inside him.

‘You may have no drugs up that arse of your boy but you sure will have the laws spunk.’

With one final push the officer let out a load groan and Troy felt wave after wave of spunk flow up inside him.

It was too much and the heat of the spunk surging inside him , being almost choked with the leather fist made Troy push hic cock as far down the mouth of the other officer, his own juice spilling into the policeman’s mouth. The cop was well practiced and Troy could feel his cock almost being sucked down the back of the throat his spunk disappearing down the guys gullet, not a drop being spilt. The more the cop swallowed the more he rubbed his hand up and down his well  proportioned shaft . Suddenly even while swallowing the officer let out a moan and his spunk shot out over Troy’s feet in thick white spurts.

All three remained almost motionless until the lead cop withdrew his cock and without wiping, thrust it back into his trousers and zipped himself up.

The other cop stood up, and smiled at his mate

‘A good job well carried out I think mate. Tell you what this guy’s spunk tastes really great.’

Troy, his cock still dripping the last drops said

‘Can you now let me out of these handcuffs Sir.’

‘Step out of your jeans now.’

Troy stepped out of his jeans and stood there as slowly his cock started to return to its normal size.

‘We ain’t finished with you yet,’ he replied as he bent down and picked up the jeans. Not good having you expose yourself to two policemen in broad daylight. You need to come back to the police station with us for some more interrogating by both of us. You can expect a long night and it depends on how you react as to when we release you but judging by what you have just done don’t expect to be going home too soon.’

RAP

Ever since the new guy moved into the next door apartment Matt was hearing loud Rap music very evening until late. It was driving him demented . He had knocked on the wall several times but it made no difference. After a few days he was not sleeping properly and becoming increasingly annoyed. Much as though he preferred not he had to make a complaint and face whoever had moved in next door. He had no idea what to expect but whatever the outcome he needed a good night’s sleep. Enough was enough. Matt walked across the landing and knocked on the neighbour’s front door. At first there was no reply. The music still beating. With much greater force Matt banged the door.

‘Alright man, I hear you. Wait a moment.’ Suddenly the door was flung open and a hulking great black guy stood staring at Matt. He had no top on and his body was well defined by being at the gym with a massive 6 pack and pronounced nipples. He had a shaved head and goatee beard and brilliant white teeth as he grinned at Matt. He was wearing pale grey trackie bottoms and bare feet. Matt was almost bowled over by the smell of dope spilling out of the apartment.

‘Hey man, what you knocking at the door for. Can I help you?’

‘It’s your music. You keep playing it so loud and I cant’ get any sleep.’

‘You don’t like my music?’

‘Well its not my type but it’ just too loud. Can you not turn it down a bit.?’

‘Sure man if its gonna help you sleep. Anyway why just stand here, come in. we are neighbours after all.’

‘No it’s alright I just wanted to ask.’

‘Now come on man be a good neighbour and come on in.’

Ok but not for long.’

‘Don’t worry I wont’ force you to do anything you don’t want.’

Matt followed the guy in, closed the door and they waked into the living room. To Matt’s surprise it all looked quite normal. The usual huge TV and a large black leather sofa dominated the space.

‘I only got one sofa so we both sit on it OK? ‘

The smell of dope was strong and was starting to give Matt a feeling of being light headed. He almost needed to sit down. But the more he inhaled the fumes the more he wanted.

‘You obviously smoke quite a bit’  Matt rather sheepishly asked.

‘Sure man. You like the smell?’

‘It’s quite powerful.’

‘Only the best stuff for me mate. I’m Jez by the way. He said sitting splayed out in one corner of the sofa his legs wide apart.

Jez picked up a spliff that he was half way through and took a deep breath., letting one of his hands rub across his glistening body. Lightly rubbing his nipple as he did so. ‘Shit this is good man.’

As Jez took another puff inhaling and letting the smoke out in rings he moved one of his arms down to his crotch and Matt could see the long cock under the trackies being stroked. It almost looked like a snake  the size clearly  showing against the trackie fabric and Matt was sure as he rubbed so the cock was increasing in size.

‘One thing all this does man is make you feel so fucking horny. Tell you what yous my guest, it would be wrong of you not to have your own spliff. Let me light one up for you a special one. I know it’s the right one for you.’

Jez lifted the ciggie and lit up and passed it to Matt at the other end of the sofa

‘No I really don’t do any drugs.’

‘Sure you do, you drink booze?’

‘Well yes.’

Then this aint’ no different .Now be a good guest and take.’

Still feeling a bit woozy from all the smoke in the apartment, Matt took the spliff and held between his fingers.

‘It won’t bite man, put it to your lips and draw in. You will feel really good I promise.’

Matt did as Jez told him and within a couple of minutes he could feel the power of inhaling rushing through his body, he felt warm ,in fact he felt more than warm but he felt carefree.’

I can see its having the right effect on you my friend.’ 

As Jez said this he let his hand again go down to his crotch and this time did not just rub but squeeze the increasingly hard outline of his cock. Jez opened his legs wider so Matt could see the cock tenting up in the trackies. It was almost looking like a pole inside .

‘So how you feeling?’ Jez grinned

‘I’m starting to feel hot and horny. Shit my cock is suddenly getting really hard, pressing against my jeans.’

‘Go on give yourself a rub. I can see your eyes taking in my big black cock.’

‘That’s some dick you have. Wish I had one that large.’

‘Yeah? Maybe you’d like to see.’

‘Oh fuck why not. Christ what am I saying.’

‘Just saying what you really feel and want. So go one lean over and stroke me through my trackies. ‘

Mattt was now feeling even more horny and quickly moved over to take the full cock in his hand through the trackies.

‘Shit man, it’s a monster.’

‘Why don’t you take it out and get a better look. You are really drooling man. I know you want it. You’ll really have to pull it out, its big man.’

Matt put his hand down the trackies and felt the hard massive outline, he could feel the large vein down the back of the shaft. Gripping tightly he managed to release the cock and as he did so it flipped up against the guy’s chest. The cock was gleaming and out of the foreskin was a luminous pink head.

‘So man get down in front of me. I want you to worship my cock.’

Matt knelt in from of Jezzstaring at the baton of a prick.. As he took in the full size so Jez put his hand around his shaft and started to gently stroke arching his back in the sofa.

Now take in this big black cock of mine. Fucking great cock man eh. Look at it and think what you really want.’

Shit its so big. I so wish I had a cock that size.’

‘Just a big cock or a big black cock?’

‘I’d love a black cock like yours.’

‘Yeah? Well we need to see what we can do then. Get out of your clothes for a start and let me see what you look like.’

Matt stood in front of Jess and quickly stripped everything off standing with his erect cock facing Jez.

‘No wonder you want a cock like mine mate. Yours ain’t bad but it’s a standard white cock.’

Matt was feeling even more horny and grasped his own cock staring all the time at the cock he most wanted.

‘Now turn round and let me see that arse of yours.’ 

Jez grabbed both cheeks and let his hands caress moving them back and forth over the pink flesh before slowly widening the crack  so he could see Matt’s hole.

‘That’s a nice hole you got there man, big as well. I think you need my cock up there to make you feel as you really want.’

‘I can’t take that meat of yours ‘ Matt said it ‘s too big for me. ‘

‘We take our time man, no rush but once you feel me fully inside me it will be different trust me. You just need to relax. I have a very special spliff for you. It will make you feel just right. Let me light it up for you.’

Jez lit up and handed it to Matt.

‘Trust me this is what you are really wanting. Take your first puff and breathe deeply.’

Matt took a big puff and felt the heat surge through his body. Immediately he began to relax and he could feel his hole widening and wanting a large cock, a large black cock, deep inside him. He was gagging to be fucked and wanted Jez’s thick black cock in him. He wanted it to go all the way up his arse. He wanted to have as much spunk rushing up inside.

‘Shit man I want that cock of yours. I feel ready to take anything.’

‘Let me get some spit on that shaft of mine and rub some of the precum that is starting to ooze out.’ 

Jez let the spit drip out of his mouth in one large glob onto his shaft and gently rub up and down the full length. Taking his arms around Matt’s waist he gently pulled him in.

‘Now as you feel my head press against that pink hole of yours take another deep puff.’ ‘I’m ready’

Taking another puff Matt felt his hole open and Jez guided his cock into the crack.

‘Fuck’ Matt let out, ‘I wish I had a black cock like the one you are gonna fuck me with.’

‘You sure you just want a black cock. Remember you are smoking a really special spliff.’

‘Christ no I wanna be black like you. I wanna change and no longer this puny white boy. I want to be a macho black guy with a thick black dick. Now get that cock of your further and further up I want it all.’

‘Don’t worry man you will get all and more than you think. Yiu feel me now deep inside you?’

‘Yeah man shit I want you to really fuck me let your cock back and then slam it in.’

‘Go on take another puff and this time really inhale and  let the smoke take you over.’

Matt took one almighty puff.

‘Shit man make me black.’

‘If that’s what’s you want let me cum inside that nice arse of yours.’  Jez started hammering his thick shaft in and out faster and faster, his hands gripped around Matts waist.

‘I’m coming ,get ready for it all. Shit man your’e getting it all from those big balls of mine.’ Jez felt the cum surge through his shaft and flow up inside Matt.

‘Fucking hell’  Matt shouted. ‘Everything is going hazy what’s happening?’

As his eyes managed to focus he looked down and saw first his hands and arms started to look more tanned but the tan became darker and darker, the colour continued to move across his chest and his body became wider with a 6 pack and gleaming tits, it was no tan his colour was now dark brown and he looked down to see his pubes black and curly , a full forest of thick black hair and out of it a cock that got not just longer and longer but thick with a wide pink head. His cock was vertical it was so hard, a full 10 inches. It was like a dream, the cock he always wanted but it was not just his cock he whole body was now as dark as Jez and as he took his hand up to his face there was a tight black beard, and his hair was plaited tight against his head. 

Matt knew he was no that white boy but he was now a man, a black man and his dream was coming true but he needed to get rid of all that cum in his balls.

‘You need to shoot man. With his arms still around Matt , Jez took hold of Matt’s large thick cock and started sliding his hand up and down faster and faster until Matt was ready.

‘Once you come man there is no going back. You good with that?’

‘I ain’t going back man ,wank me let me see all my jism. Fuckkkkkk’

And with that Matt’s cum shot across the room in burst after burst

‘Jesus,’ Matt said suddenly realising that his voice was much deeper and his mind was somehow changing, a new light was entering and the old Matt was leaving.

‘Tell you what man I need another of these spliffs and that big black cock of mine ain’t gonna rest for long as I aim to have it up that arse of yours. Gimme me a few mins but crank up that fucking rap music man. Let’s chill and smoke.’

‘You got it ,’ Jezz said, ‘You’re my man now.’

EBAY BINMAN

Danny’s favourite café had closed so he decided to try anew one nearby. As he arrived he saw at least half a dozen bin carts sitting outside the entrance almost clogging up the doorway. He had no knowledge of why there was so many of these until he opened the door and inside the small café there were 6 guys dressed in full yellow HiViz waiting for their coffees. He could smell the fact that they were rubbish collectors, the smell almost took over the café but no one seemed to mind. They were all guys in their 40s, big built and some in fact over weight and nearly all with tattoos and shaved heads. Not the type you’d want to meet on a dark night in an alley way. All their hi viz was stained with dirt and oil and he could see their hands as they took their coffees with dirt ingrained into their fingernails. At first the smell was enough for Danny to think of leaving and going elsewhere but the guys were all oblivious and took up most of the space. In fact there were no other customers. He was about to leave when one of the guys looked at him and said

‘You here for a coffee mate?’

‘Er yes.’

‘Well we’d better make way so you can get to the front. He stood aside and Danny found he had to squeeze between the others to ask for his coffee. As he squeezed between the large men he felt his body brushing against their HiViz nylon, in some cases his crotch was almost rubbing against their crotches as well as having a defined large HIViz encased cock rub against his arse. The smell of the men and it was not just odour of rubbish but their body smell in HIViz that they clearly rarely washed. Being tight in amongst them suddenly Danny found he was getting an erection and needed to get his coffee and be off.

As he took his coffee and went to move back the one who had spoken to him said 

‘Sorry mate we come each day at the same time and seem to take the place over. Hope you don’t mind.’

‘No not a problem.’

‘Hope to see you again sometime. Its good coffee here.’

Thank God Danny was wearing a long jacket to cover his hard on. He could not understand why being with these guys had suddenly made him feel horny. He had never been turned on my bin men in HiViz before and not at that age but the smell and the feeling of the guys tight against him was a new experience and one he liked and wanted again.

The next day he went back again at the same time and sure enough the binmen were all there. As he walked in the guy turned and said

‘So you like the coffee here? We don’t put you off?’

‘You’re right it’s good coffee.’

‘Well squeeze through and get your order in.’

As Danny went to move past the guy he felt the guy’s crotch rub against his leg. He could feel the outline of a thick cock even through the HiViz

‘Hope you don’t mind the squeeze’ he smiled

He was certain that as the passed this guy that a hand lightly brushed against his arse. By now Danny was fully erect and kept one of his hands in front to conceal the boner that was obvious in his jeans. These men in their yellow HiViz, the size of them, the smell was such a turn on even if they were not attractive to look at and even if they were , well, just bin men.

Once he got home he immediately turned on his laptop. He decided he wanted to buy his own HiViz and he would have a good wank wearing it at home. All that heavy duty nylon was so sexy and he would wank while thinking of the men in the café. As he sat looking online he came across a number of places that he could buy yellow or orange hi viz. Seeing all the choice had his cock stiff as a pole and as he looked so he undid his zip and pulled out his boner. He imagined himself in Hiviz walking into the café with the binmen there, rubbing against them and feeling his erect cock in the nylon against their cocks all hard and needing to release spunk. Danny’s hand started rubbing his shaft harder and harder as his imagination worked overtime thinking of himself as a binman in HiViz. It took no time before his spunk gushed out just missing his laptop. A quick wank maybe but a good one and for someone who had never been turned on by older guys in HiViz he was now thinking constantly of them .He scrolled down the website and suddenly one popped up from Ebay

‘FULL well worn yellow HiViz kit for sale’

Danny looked at the detail and photos

Shit it was certainly well worn, There was a HiViz jacket which was soiled and really dirty, a T shirt worn and half black, a pair of trousers with a rip on one leg and also dirty. There was even a pair of what had been white but now yellow socks and a well work pair of steel to capped boots scuffed and with caked dirt on the soles.

The description stated that it was well worn and had not been washed and that was why the price was so reasonable. It was best offer only.

Danny could not believe it. It was everything he wanted, all from the one source and all had been worn by the guy. Danny could already almost feel what it must be like and he could in his imagination smell the guy if nothing had been washed or cleaned.

He immediately clicked the button at the full price and was so keen to receive it that he paid the extra for next day delivery. How he would love to put it all on and walk into the café looking like the others but he knew that could never happen. He could only wank in it at home.

Next morning his doorbell rang and Danny rushed to open and take the package from the postman. As he opened the door standing outside was the binman from the café standing there with his bin cart and a bag, smiling

‘I have a parcel for you and thought when I saw the address that I’d deliver it by hand. I wondered if it might be you who bought my old gear. A bargain for a guy into HiViz. I could see when you came back yesterday that you liked being in with all the binmen, so I’m pleased that you like it enough to buy my gear. Well are you just going to stand there looking embarrassed, No need to mate, its good gear, has a lot of me inside it. So are you going to take the bag?’

‘I didn’t realise it was yours.’

‘So what? It’s yours now. Only proviso now I see you is that you now put it on and I see you in the full gear. No need to actually put it on in front of me but once you have on I just want to see how it fits you.’

‘Are you sure you should not be off working with the other guys.’

‘Don’t worry mate they can manage without me for a while before we meet up at the café.’

Danny felt he had no option but to ask the binman in as he took the bag

‘Go on mate lets be seeing you. I’ll wait here. There is one extra thing inside I did not put on the website to complete the gear.’

Danny took the bag into the bedroom and emptied the contents onto his bed. It was exactly like the website photos but he immediately saw ‘the extra thing’ amongst the HiViz. It was a worn jockstrap and not just worn but yellow.

‘Christ the guy must have almost peed into it.’ Danny thought. Danny could smell it has he lifted it up to his nose. It was stinking of rancid pee but as he felt the fabric he realised that parts were hard and he could see the signs of dried cum. The smell made his head swim but it was so powerful that he found himself rubbing the jockstrap against his face and putting it in over his head to smell, inhale and feel the dried cum against his face. Danny’s cock was so stiff at first he thought he might cum and he was terrified the binman would come into his room. He could hear the guy shifting about outside.

‘You getting the gear on mate?’

‘Yeas just taking a bit longer than I thought.’ 

‘Ain’t got all day but I wanna see you kitted out.’

Danny slipped the jockstrap on his cock tenting out and he could feel his knob head rubbing against the dried cum,.

‘Christ knows how I can hide this’ Danny thought.

He took the pair of worn yellow sock and again put to his nose. He inhaled the cheesy smell from the feet.

‘Christ the guy can never have washed ‘but the smell was proving irresistible and he almost wanted to eat the socks and have the high cheesy smell down his gullet. Next he put on the T shirt and let it slide over his chest. It was definitely too big but the sense of nylon rubbing against him and knowing it had never been washed made him feel as if the binman was almost part of him. Next the trousers which was definitely too big and he had slight trouble keeping them up around his waist. They were at least two sizes too big but the binman was definitely bigger than him. Then the boots which were also too big but he laced up and finally the oil  stained and filthy jacket. Danny was so sexed up even if the gear was too big and as soon as the binman left Danny was going to have the biggest wank of his life.

‘You must be ready now mate. Come on open up and let me see.’

In spite of the clothing being too large Danny looked down and could see his cock tenting throught the jockstrap and Th ehi viz. he tried to press it down but it kept springing up and even with the nylon it was already showing a dmap patch when pressed tightly against the HiViz.

Danny opened the door to face the binman.

‘At last the guy said. As I thought not a perfect fit as I’m a bigger lad than you but you sure look good in HiViz, not quite a binman but then I am sure you can imagine yourself as one. And don’t worry about me seeing that cock of yours. Any guy in a pee and cum stained jockstrap will be hard. Making quite a tent there for someone your size. I’m glad this gear has come to you but there again perhaps it was meant.’

As the binman said this so he let his hand move down to stroke his own crotch.

‘Tell you what mate you ain’t the only guy now with a knob on. Have a look at that tent of mine. So come here and let me really look at you and turn around.’

As Danny turned round the binman took hold of the trouser waist band at the rear and pulled them down to reveal Danny’s arse in the jockstrap.

The jockstrap ain’t too bad a fit and the bands sitting nicely against those cheeks of yours. I need to sort you out so it fits a bit better and we need to make sure that my cock fits nicely into that hole of yours.’

‘You’re joking’ Danny said in mock surprise.

‘You think I’m joking that that arse of yours exposed and my cock needing a fuck. Besides you would not have had me in your house in my Hi Viz gear and you wearing mine if you didn’t have this in mind. Plus I can tell you are as horny as hell and wanting a guy to fuck you in your new gear. Just think of HizViz to hi viz and being fucked by a real binman. You fucking want it mate I know. So bend over that table and give that arse to me.’

By now Danny was high with the smells , the HiViz and this binman taking full control and he wanted to be fucked

‘Can I see your cock first’

‘Of course you bloody well can. You wont’ be disappointed.’

With that the binman undid his zip and flipped out a large thick took the head exposed and the foreskin drawn back revealing a heavy head.

‘Not a disappointment then mate.’

‘Shit no but not sure if its too big for me.’

‘Don’t worry I’ve seen plenty of arses and I know you can take it. Plus it’s just one guy in HiViz fucking another. Be a man. So bend over and lets’ get on with this

The bin man kept a hold of the HiViz waist band and with his other hand directed his gleaming cock to Danny’s hole.

Danny was so psyched up  and desperate to feel the binman’s cock inside him that his hole opened to take the pole that was about to ram him.

‘That’s it mate now push that nice arse of yours back to take my cock, I want you to feel that big thick head of mine get inside you.’

Danny let out a small squeal of pain as the head was thrust into him, his hole widening to take it. When he had taken in the head he now wanted to feel the full heavy shaft enter up inside him as far as it could go.

‘Be a good man, let me slide this tool of mine all the way. Once you feel it up to the hilt start slowly to move forwards and then I can ram it up.’

Danny moved forwards but hated feeling the cock move away from deep inside him. He withdrew only so far and before the binman could move Danny quickly pressed his arse back up the cock until he could feel the binman’s pubes brush against his cheeks.

‘You liked being fucked by a bin man eh young man. You love being fucked in your Hi viz gear.’

‘It’s amazing,’ Danny gasped.

‘What you really love is being fucked in Hiviz by Hi Viz and being a binman. What you really want is to be a binman.’

Being rammed by the thick workie cock was all Danny wanted. He wanted to feel the cum from this guy shoot up inside him and take him over. He wished for binman juiice inside him.

‘Bet you now wish you are a binman a right fucker of a man always stinking in Hi Viz spending your days with other binmen, cleaning the streets and then fucking each other always in hiviz eh?

Hearing the binman say this had Danny sliding up and down the tool his own cock ready to burst inside the jockstrap. He wanted his own cum to seep through the piss stained jockstrap and mingle with the hardened cum that was already caking.

‘So tell me how you feel now mate.’

‘Shit being fucked by you is the best, being fucked in this HiVz by you in Hi Viz is what I want. I want to be a stinking binman. Shit I want to sweep the streets like you,  I wanna look like you and your mates. Make me a fucking bin man.’

‘I knew that’s what you wanted so keep ramming that arse of your against me and feel that thick shaft of mine up your arse. Rub your hand over that cock of yours so you cum into the HiViz and jockstrap. Let your cum ooze out just like us binmen love.’

‘Go on fuck me and cum’ Danny shouted ‘I’m ready to explode.’

‘Get ready man, meet the new Danny, and with that the binman shot load after load into Danny’s arse so that Danny thought it would come up through his throat. His own cock shot its load into the jockstrap and as it quickly seeped through and started to drip down inside his HiViz

‘Fucking hell what is going?’ on Danny shouted grasping his head. ‘My whole body is bursting I feel it’s almost exploding into my HiViz. ‘

‘It is man.’

Danny looked down and he could see his whole chest expanding, the T shirt which had hung loose on him was now rapidly tightening to the point he could see his belly straining against the nylon and in fact the T shirt now looked small on him and his belly now hairy was causing the T shirt to lift so he exposed his chest. His feet expanded into the boots and as the binman let go of the trouser waist band he felt the trousers now tight around his waist the front of them had sunk below his waist line so his belly started hanging over. Danny looked down at his hands that were now about double the size all tanned and his fingers with bitten nails were ingrained with dirt.

‘That’s better Danny. Look in the mirror. You will be pleased with yourself.’

Danny looked into the mirror and it was not his size and heavy weight but his whole head had changed. His head looked huge with a double chin and thick 5o’clock shadow, , hairy eyebrows and the biggest surprise was the shaved head and a large tattoo down the side of his neck. Round his neck was a thick gold chain.

‘So Danny what you think.’

‘Shit man I look fucking great just like the rest of guys at the café.’

‘Just like one of my lads.’

‘Tell you want I hope they all fuck like you.’

‘Don’t worry mate we all take turns and looking at all the cum of yours I reckon it will be time for you to give one to the others. You can take your pick for after work.’

‘Just hope I can wait that long, I’m starting to feel fucking horny again.’

‘Then let’s get out of here. That bin cart outside is yours. Lets’ wheel it down to the café and join the others.’

‘Can’t wait boss.’

[ekwolfwriter-blog]

MC/ Sylus Flash fic

Just MC and Sylus talking on the beach, with the beach banner coming and with the recent trailer, I felt there needed a moment for them to talk. Also hints of MC finding out her past with Sylus.

This fic is just for fun but if people want me to do more, let me know. I have a full fic on the way soon. ~~~

MC is sitting by the beach as she is looking out toward the ocean. She had to think about some things especially after a long few days of revelations that have happened. She is not sure what to make of it all, especially knowing her past finally coming to light.

She sighed.

Then she heard movement on the beach as she glanced up to see a large man standing behind her, his normal clothing replaced with surprisingly relaxed summer clothing which was strange to see him in as opposed to his cool collected side. But MC did not move otherwise as she returned her gaze to the beach while the man came over to sit beside her.

Sylus did not speak as he sat beside her. But put enough space for her and him if she did not want to be held. For a while, they just sat in silence. MC knew why, he was waiting for her to say something, like he always would when she was upset. And it would normally be the case. But this time, she was not sure she could or trust herself to talk.

If Sylus knew this, he did not say anything. He merely looked out to the ocean beside her as he took in a deep breath. Letting the air feel calming with his breathing. It made MC feel a bit less guarded as she looked down at the sand.

“Sylus,” she said.

“Hm?” he said as he kept looking out.

“I need the truth from you.”

“If that is what you want,” he said.

“The full truth, everything that had happened between us. Why you know all these things about me? And… why you did not tell me about what I did to you? And why are you still with me even knowing that I will only cause you pain?”

Sylus did not move as he did not look toward her. He was stiff as if to think about his answer. But he could feel how MC was gripping her legs tightly to hold her self tight like a hug. She did not seem to trust herself with him. While he stayed still to try and come off as cool and collected, his face and scowl showed how much he hated seeing her like this. Not his hunter.

But he took a second to breath as he began to speak. “What happened between us, all those years ago, was something I had all intentions of telling. But I did not want to force you into knowing too soon. Especially as you did not know.”

“Then why not tell me soon after? It would have made things easier as to why you were pushing me back then.”

“Because it is not in my ability to do so.” He answered.

MC was shocked into silence as he signed and pinched his nose. “You always know when to push it,” he muttered. “But… that is one of the things that I like about you, more so now.”

He finally looked at her, but there was the soft glances of their quiet moment together. And how he looked when he was looking at MC and not the girl of his past. He looked at her with love in his eyes as he inched a bit closer.

“I did not tell you because it is not my place for me to force this knowledge on you. Nor could I do so. Or want to.”

MC looked at Sylus as she tried to read his face. She was never good at reading his guarded expression with how smug he would be sometimes. But the times when he softened for her, it was easy to see he was looking carefully to find the right words. And now, it was almost like he wanted her to ask so that the gaps could be filled.

“When you say you could not, or want to, does it have to do with … your bloodline?”

Sylus, still calm as ever, nodded. “Some of it does.”

MC nodded as she then looked at his chest. It was open to a scar on his chest that was shaped like a gem. One she had seen now twice in her mind since finding out.

“Does this mean that you were waiting for me to figure it out on my own? And could not because it could have affected you?”

Sylus shrugged. “It is part of it,”

“What else is there then?” MC snapped as she could feel her frustration coming out. “I killed you before. I hurt you and I know that either I have to kill you or I kill you again! How can you be so calm about this? And how could you love me again even after everything I did then and even now? In this life? Doubting you, judging you, and even tried to kill you before. How can you still want to be with me?”

Sylus stared at her as her face was getting red with tears and flush on her face. Seeing her in tears did not pain him as much, but he never liked it either. But this time, it was because he knew it was out of a deeper emotion than what she was admitting to herself audibly. Sylus did not care as he only smiled and slowly raised a hand to her cheek.

“I might have fallen for your past. But when you could not remember, I wanted then to make sure that you got what you needed and left. Stay away and ensure that you would not be in harm’s way anymore. But as the cruel fates had it, they decided this time, we should not be apart ever. Even when we might have parted again, I felt back then it was the final chance to pull away and make sure to stay out of your life so it could not happen again.”

“But when you came to me, practically ordering me to stay,” he said before MC gave a low scoff like chuckle at him saying that, which made him smile, “I knew then, as I know now this. The girl I love, no matter what has happened to her, has always been there. I will love her as she is now, even if she is different.”

“I will love her fierce obsession with plushies and bad habit of late night scrolling before bed, and love her even if she is hurt and tend to her, or fight by her side when she takes on a mission and be her shadow while she is the light in this world.”

“Because she is my beloved, no matter what form you take or what curse has been placed on us, I will be there for you. For all versions of you.”

The wave thundered in the background as MC blushed more and felt tears streaming down her face as she then leaned into his touch. Sylus leaned in to touch her forehead with his as he smiled. “All I can hope is that one day, you would feel the same to see all of me. As I see all of you.”

His whisper was soft toward her as MC leaned in and looked up into his red eyes. Soft and warm for only her. Eyes she remembered once being feared of in her dreams and memories, but now have been replaced with so much love it could make her heart burst. She thought about it as she inched closer to him.

“Can you… just hold me for now? Like you did in the past?”

“Past?” he asked.

MC nodded. “The ones of our memories.”

Sylus blinked a moment as he then nodded and brough her into him. “I… might need to use some of my Evol to maintain it, so bear with me.”

MC nodded as she turned a little in his embrace. Sylus looked down at her as he sighed and took a deep breath to concentrate. He did not want to scare her with what he was about to do next. But she wanted it, and he could not deny her anything. What she wanted, he would do it. Even now, if it might terrify her.

But she was willing to try and see all of him as he knew she saw in her past. And he will trust her as well. With a deep breath, as they watched the ocean and the sun finally set, and the darkness came, Sylus unfurled his hidden wings as they wrapped around them and rest on his arms while she looked at them softly.

MC was amazed at them even if a bit hesitant, but she did not seem to fear his wings. She tenderly touched them to see his reactions. And while they twitched a little, they remained where they were, even relaxing more like a muscle of his arm when she placed her hand on them. They were warm and comforting, just like him.  

“They are beautiful,” she whispered.

Sylus hummed in agreement, but he was more focused on her. “And of me?”

MC glanced up at him as she reached up to touch his cheek. Sylus leaned into her touch, like he was craving it this whole time. MC smiled a little even if there was still tears in her eyes.

“You are amazing, Sylus. Every part of you. I will come to terms with it all, but we can figure it out. And as you said, no matter what form you take or what you have done, I will love you as well.”

Sylus smiled at her softly before slowly leaning in to her space, placing a small kiss on her cheek. “How I have waited to hear that.”

MC smiled as she pulled him closer to kiss him back on the lips. Sylus returned the gesture in kind as he kissed harder and leaned into him.

There they kissed some more as Sylus kept his wings around them, hiding them from the world and letting them just be themselves. Two souls finally reconnecting once again.

[ryan-lowe]

Part 1. Two years ago. 

His friend’s engagement party was that night. They were friends from the group he used to run with -- Ben and Kara. Both had gotten clean and to celebrate their promise to sobriety, they also wanted to promise themselves to each other. 

How romantic. 

The party was at a popular restaurant downtown that had a large balcony that overlooked downtown. "You two are damn lucky the weather is on your side tonight," Ryan said with a grin as he approached his old friends. Kara immediately hugged him, and Ben clasped a hand on his shoulder. "It's good to see you, Ry," Ben said.

It'd been over a year since they'd seen each other last. After Sam was born, Ryan cut ties with everyone he'd known from those chapters of his life — the chapters spent with Hattie, and with those friends, high on whatever they could get their hands on. 

Kara stepped away, but kept a hand on Ryan's chest. "Ryan, we had to invite her." Her voice was so quiet, Ryan barely heard her. His brows furrowed, then the realization of who she meant hit him like a ton of bricks. 

Hattie.

He felt the blood drain, and a ringing in his ear. 

"Fucking hell," Ryan heard himself speak, but didn't remember allowing the words out. Quickly, he turned, needing out of that space. He could hear his friends saying their apologies, but he continued toward the exit -- which was unfortunately also the entrance. 

Ryan had almost made it to the door. But, cruel fate intervened. There she was, walking in with another man's arm around her. He'd know her face anywhere, because it was Sam's face. Sam's eyes. Sam's blonde hair. Sam's smile. His stomach twisted into a knot. He could feel his heart beat in his ears. 

The two made eye contact, and Hattie had the audacity to smile. 

He should've left -- he knew he should've left. But, he stayed. Because she looked good. She looked healthy. She looked clean. Ryan put on a facade, and went about with pleasantries and useless conversations, but felt her eyes on him again and again. 

Finally, he excused himself to the restroom. Ryan didn't have to look over his shoulder. He could feel her follow. He went through the private bathroom door, but didn't bother turning to lock it. He knew she was coming. 

"Hi, Ry." 

Ryan turned to face her, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. The dress she wore clung to the curve of her waist. She fiddled with a bracelet — a bracelet that he’d given her — that was clasped on her wrist. A nervous habit of hers. And he hated that he noticed all of these things. 

He slid his hands casually into the front pockets of his slacks. "I didn't know you'd be here," He replied, doing his best to keep his tone even.

"But you're glad to see me," Hattie said quietly, her head tilting a little before taking a cautious step forward, toward him.

"Did you just leave your date out there to have a chat with me?" The bite to his tone now was impossible to hide. Why the fuck was he acting jealous?? "But why should I be surprised by that,” He continued, “It’s what you’re good at. Leaving."

The silence hung in the air. The two stared at each other. Hattie fiddled with that damn bracelet. 

"I think about Sam--" Hattie began to say as she took another cautious step forward. Ryan cut her off. "Don't you fucking dare," He hissed, his eyes narrowing and still standing his ground. Pain etched across Hattie's face. Ryan hated the twinge of guilt he felt. His brows quivered just slightly. A moment of weakness. Hattie took full advantage of it, and stepped forward again. 

They were too close, now. 

Hattie's hand reached out and began fiddling with the zipper on Ryan’s jacket. She looked up at him under full lashes. "Does she look like me?" She asked, half-whispered. 

Ryan's jaw flexed before he replied, "Yeah... Yeah, she does."  

Another moment of silence between them. Betraying himself once more, Ryan's gaze shifted to her lips. 

He wasn't sure who leaned in first, but it didn't matter. Their lips met, arms intertwined, and the two consumed each other.  

[movingmusically]

Several Sentence Sunday

Thank you for the tag @faegoddessog

Here’s a snippet from a Bikeriders multi chapter fic idea I had. I’ve got the bones of it planned out but have only written part of the first chapter.

I stopped to focus on What Are Friends For and requests. Maybe I’ll go back to it one day.

———

“Well, look who decided to show up,” he drawled, leaning against the bar beside Kathy. His grin was sharp, full of mischief, and the low light caught the streaks of grease on his chest where his leather vest hung open. “Don’t suppose you’re introducin’ me to your friend?”

“She don’t need introducin’,” Kathy said, not bothering to look at him. “And you don’t need to be here.”

“Aw, c’mon. I’m just bein’ polite.” His eyes shifted to me, and his grin widened. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“She’s with me,” Kathy said, her tone like steel. “Now get lost, Corky, before I make you.”

Corky chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to step on any toes.” He glanced at me one more time before disappearing back into the crowd.

Kathy turned to me, her expression softening. “You okay?”

I nodded, though my pulse was still racing. “He’s a charmer.”

She laughed. “That’s one word for it.”

We hovered at the bar just long enough for Kathy to spot an opening. A couple of men near the jukebox grabbed their beers and wandered off, leaving a small, sticky table behind. Kathy didn’t waste a second.

“There we go,” she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me across the room. “C’mon, before someone else snags it.”

I followed her, weaving through the crowd as she cut a path like she’d done it a hundred times before. We slipped into the chairs just as another group started eyeing the spot. Kathy leaned back with a triumphant grin, tapping her bottle on the table like a gavel.

“Perfect,” she said. “See? This ain’t so bad.”

I wasn’t sure if I agreed. The table felt like a spotlight, even in the dim light of the bar. People glanced our way as they passed, their eyes lingering just a little too long for comfort. I took another sip of my beer, letting the cold bitterness settle the nervous energy in my chest.

The table wasn’t ours for long before Corky showed up, grinning like the cat that got the cream. He dragged out a chair, dropping into it with the kind of ease that made it clear he didn’t care whether he was welcome or not. He leaned back, slinging one arm over the backrest, his other hand clutching a half-empty beer.

Another man sat beside him and leaned back with a casual air, tipping his chair onto its back legs. His hair was slicked back and gleamed under the low light, though a few rebellious strands hung loose over his forehead. His vest hung loose over a stained T-shirt, and his boots clunked against the floor as he rocked slightly in his seat. He had an easy grin, the kind that didn’t just say trouble—it invited you to join in.

“This here’s Wahoo,” Corky said, nodding toward him. “He’s good for a laugh—if you don’t mind listenin’ to bad jokes all night.”

“Aw, now, that ain’t fair,” Wahoo said, his voice light and teasing as he glanced at Corky. “At least my jokes don’t make people wanna leave.”

“Debatable,” Kathy muttered under her breath, crossing her arms.

Wahoo turned to me, his grin wide and toothy. “What’s your name, darlin’? Or are you one of them mystery types?”

I hesitated, glancing at Kathy. She gave me a small nod, so I finally said, “Lottie.”

“Lottie,” Wahoo repeated, drawing the name out like he was trying it on for size. “Hell, that’s fancy. What’s it short for?”

“Charlotte,” I said, taking another sip of my beer to avoid saying more.

“Well, Charlotte,” Wahoo said, leaning his chair forward again, “you sure don’t sound like you’re from around here. Where you from?”

“She’s my neighbour,” Kathy cut in quickly, shooting him a warning glance. “That’s all you need to know.”

Wahoo raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Neighbour, huh? You must live in a real fancy part of town, Kathy.”

“Not that fancy,” I said before Kathy could reply. “I’m originally from London.”

Wahoo’s grin widened. “Charlotte from London. Well, ain’t that somethin’.”

That earned a low whistle from Corky. “London. Damn, Kathy, you didn’t tell us you were hangin’ with royalty.”

Because it’s none of your business,” she shot back. “Now get lost. She don’t need you two clowns scarin’ her off.”

“Scarin’ her?” Corky said, feigning shock. “We’re the friendliest fellas here.”

“Sure you are,” Kathy said flatly.

Another man sidled up before they could argue. He was shorter than the others but broad, with a solid build that made him look unshakable. His dark hair was slicked back, emphasising the sharp lines of his sideburns, and his pale T-shirt looked worn under a patched and slightly tattered leather vest. His expression was calm but watchful, his presence quiet yet impossible to miss.

“Cockroach,” Kathy muttered under her breath.

“What’s goin’ on here?” he asked, glancing between us.

“Just meetin’ Kathy’s fancy new friend,” Corky said, gesturing toward me. “Say somethin’, sweetheart. Let Roach hear that accent.”

“You’ve all heard enough,” Kathy said, standing abruptly. “I’m hittin’ the bathroom. Don’t scare her off while I’m gone.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, grabbing her empty bottle and disappearing into the crowd. Corky, Wahoo, and Cockroach exchanged glances before Corky pushed back his chair.

“Guess we’re gettin’ kicked out,” he said with a mock sigh. “Catch you later, London.”

Wahoo winked at me before following him, and Cockroach trailed behind, his toothpick bobbing between his teeth.

I exhaled slowly, slumping back in my chair as the table finally emptied. The noise of the bar seemed louder now, the edges sharper without Kathy sitting across from me. I took another sip of my beer, letting the cold bitterness settle in my chest.

The scrape of a chair startled me, and I glanced up. A man was pulling it out from the table, spinning it around before sitting down backward. He leaned his arms on the backrest, his blue eyes catching the low light as they locked on mine. His blonde hair was slightly tousled, brushing his forehead in a way that looked both unintentional and perfectly deliberate. His sleeveless black T-shirt clung to his lean frame, faint traces of grease smudging his forearms, and a faint shadow of stubble lined his jaw.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, his voice low and calm, a stark contrast to the loud energy that had filled the table just moments ago.

I hesitated, glancing toward the crowd, as if Kathy might suddenly reappear. “Sure,” I said finally, though I wasn’t entirely sure why.

He nodded, settling into the chair with a quiet ease. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze steady but not overbearing. It was different from the others—not probing or teasing, but almost… thoughtful.

“I’m Benny,” he said at last, his tone measured and soft enough to cut through the noise of the bar.

“Lottie,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I figured,” he said, his mouth curving into a faint smile. “Corky and Wahoo aren’t exactly subtle.”

That earned a soft laugh from me, the tension in my shoulders loosening slightly. “No, they’re not.”

Benny rested his chin on his arms, his eyes never leaving mine. “London, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said cautiously, unsure of where this was going. “How’d you guess?”

“The accent,” he said simply, his faint smile widening just enough to make the sharpness in his features soften. “It’s not every day you hear that around here.”

There was a pause—not uncomfortable, but noticeable. Benny didn’t fill it with questions or comments, didn’t push me for more than I was willing to give. Instead, he let it hang between us, a quiet understanding that felt oddly comforting.

For the first time since I’d stepped into the bar, I felt like I could breathe. Benny didn’t press, didn’t crowd, didn’t make me feel like I had to defend my presence. Instead, he sat there, calm and steady, like he wasn’t in any rush to be anywhere else. It was strange, but not unwelcome.

“Your first time here?” he asked after a moment.

“Is it that obvious?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, his faint smile returning. “A little.”

“It’s not exactly my usual scene,” I admitted, glancing around the room. “Kathy dragged me out. Said I needed it.”

“She’s probably right,” he said simply.

I tilted my head, studying him. “Do you always take her side?”

He smirked, his blue eyes glinting. “Only when she’s right.”

There was something disarming about him, something that made it hard to look away. Benny wasn’t loud or flashy like the others, but there was a quiet confidence to him, a sense of knowing exactly who he was and not needing to prove it to anyone. It was unsettling, in a way, but also strangely reassuring.

Before I could say anything else, Kathy reappeared, two fresh beers in hand. Her eyes flicked to Benny, then back to me, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“Well, looks like you’ve made a friend,” she said, sliding a bottle toward me as she sat down.

“He was here when you abandoned me,” I said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Abandoned?” she repeated, feigning offense. “I was gone five minutes.”

“Long enough,” I muttered, though my tone was teasing.

Benny chuckled softly, pushing back his chair as he stood. “Guess I’ll leave you two to it,” he said, his gaze lingering on me for just a moment longer than necessary. “Nice meeting you, Lottie.”

“Nice meeting you too,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

He gave a small nod before disappearing into the crowd, leaving me with a strange mix of relief and disappointment.

Kathy raised an eyebrow as Benny disappeared into the crowd. “Well, he’s got good taste,” she teased, taking a long sip of her beer.

I rolled my eyes, the faint warmth in my cheeks giving me away. “He was just being polite.”

“Polite? Benny?” Kathy laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

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[swytdoll]

IT’S A MATCH!

full nelson. how had you ended up here? squashed together as your tinder date—who was old enough to be your father—fucked his stiff cock into you. you were just looking for a little bit of fun after a few months in quarantine, and instead you found yourself stuffed to the brim whilst being pounded relentlessly. the sound of skin slapping together rang in your ears, the blonde’s groans and pants growing the closer he came. his balls pressed against your skin, blonde tuffs of pubic hair tickling you. his thick length rubbed your insides raw. you had never been fucked like this.

when you’d first seen kento nanami he looked like a gentleman, with his clean-cut hair and well-tailored suit. he looked like a person of status and importance, not the type to be splitting a girl that could be his daughter with his dick. but here he is, balls deep inside your pussy on his expensive sofa.

"you're such a naughty girl, fucking an old man like me," he said, voice thick with lust. "how did i get so lucky, mm? look at you, taking me so well." his cock curved in just the right way to hit that special spot inside you. and each time he pulled out, his fat tip would barely catch your g-spot, sending you into a frenzy, and when he pushed back in, he bottomed out. his large hands gripping your hips so tight you knew you would bruise.

salty tears fell from your glossy eyes. he had you full on fucking crying from the overstimulation, the pain only heightened by your inability to see. your hands were clutching at the fabric of the sofa, trying to keep yourself steady, but it was no use.

your cunt ached. the wet, sloppy sounds his angry cock made each time it slipped inside your abused hole had you feeling filthy, and it was clear that he wasn't going to slow down any time soon. your head was lolling back against his shoulder, your body had long given up on resisting. kento’s grip was the only thing keeping you upright, and if he hadn't had you in his hold, you would have collapsed a long time ago.

a familiar knot was forming in the pit of your stomach, and you were desperate to come. “ha—so wet, f-fuck you feel so good. feel me deep?” his voice was so gravelly and breathless that you almost didn't recognise it, and all you could do was moan. he laughed a little, his chest vibrating as he leaned down to nip at the skin of your shoulder.

this position, his thrusts were deeper. he was able to pull you flush against his cock. you were so full, it almost hurt.

his thrusts had turned erratic, and the room was filled with the sounds of your combined moans and heavy breaths. you felt his pace slow, and he began to thrust with more purpose. the tip of his cock grinding into your g-spot.

the waves of pleasure rolled over you, and your vision went white. you sobbed, toes curling. kento grunted as he fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts even more sloppy as he bottomed out inside of you, coming with a growl. you felt his cum filling you, his hips stuttering pushing the heavy mess further in your cunt.

when you both came down from your high, he pulled out, his cum spilling out and running down your thighs. he released his hold on you, and you collapsed against the cushions with a humph, dazed. too dazed to see the man grabbing your phone from the coffee table, hands idly swiping through your apps. bingo. tinder. too dazed to see him swiftly delete the app.

he doesn't want to share. not you.