#black hair stubble no makeup close up angle

[thesingingrevolution]

i like how beautiful winwin is without any distractions. no reliance on flashy jewelry, extreme makeup, or outrageous outfits. just a very beautiful man

[sentientgolfball]

Wolf Moon

I hope no one is sick of genderfluid lunar cycle Rain

Read here or on Ao3

Pairing: Rulti

Word Count: 3940

Tags: murder ghouls, brief but kinda graphic gore, blood kink, semi-public, Rain is a diva if you squint, they fuck in a dirty bar bathroom

Summary: She was as much a perfectionist as she was vain, but the new outfit her pack gifted her was perfect for the evening of bar hopping. One night couldn't possibly ruin it, right?

Rain stands in front of her vanity. Her hair is pulled back, held in place by a simple pastel pink headband. She drums her claws against the top of it, eyeing her nude appearance with a pout. She’s tried on at least a dozen different outfits in the last ten minutes trying to find something to wear for the day. Every single one of them didn’t feel right as evidenced by the piles of discarded sweaters, skirts, button-ups, and whatever else she pulled out of her closet. No matter what combination she tried, nothing satisfied her. The bioluminescent spots on her shoulders and tail pulsed rapidly, making her frustration plain as day. 

She sighed, dragging her hands across her face and digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. She was always one for maintaining her appearance, but even she had to admit this was getting ridiculous. Even so, she could never justify going out in an outfit that didn’t make her feel wholly herself. She was this close to texting Dew, letting him know she wouldn’t be joining the pack on their little bar outing. She knew he’d be disappointed, they all would, but Rain wasn’t feeling it. 

She threw her clawed hands up in frustration before reaching for her phone at the edge of the vanity. Her eye caught something as she did. A brightly colored box sitting beside her desk. 

How could she forget? 

There was one outfit she hadn’t tried on in her sporadic costume changes. It was one she had never worn before, still too new for her to feel comfortable going out in it. It was a gift from the pack. They may not celebrate that human holiday, but it was fun to get each other nice things and oh had they gotten her nice things. Swiss got her the outfit that’s currently hidden in the gift box. Aurora and Cumulus pulled together and got her a basket of new makeup and skincare products. Phantom got her the headband currently in her hair. Mountain got her the leather boots sitting at the bottom of her closet. Dew got her the pearls that sit next to the rings from Cirrus in her little jewelry box. A little something from everybody. The only problem was, she was as much a perfectionist as she was vain. She cherished the gifts from her mates but she always hated using them right away for fear of them getting ruined. But today her vanity won. 

She took the outfit from the box and immediately, without even putting it on, she knew it would be the one. Already she could picture the rounds of drinks she’d get from a quick wink and sly touch to some unsuspecting humans. Enough for the whole pack if she tried. Already she could see the perfect makeup to go with it. Smokey with a cat eyeliner and some cherry flavored lip gloss for when things got handsy. Mountain’s boots would match well. It was perfect. It was her. 

She slipped on a pair of lacy panties before pulling the black stockings up her legs. She pulled the loose black sweater over her head and marveled at the low cut. Her neck and collarbones were well exposed, the pearls from Dew would look nice. The white mini skirt already made her waist look even better, but when she tucked the sweater in she felt the last bit of apprehension melt away. She looked good and she wasn’t even finished yet. She spun in the mirror checking herself out in every possible angle, smiling wider and wider with how satisfied she felt in the outfit. 

She went to the bathroom where she keeps her hoard of makeup. She pulled out what she would need for the look she had in mind. She briefly scratched the stubble on her face toying with the idea of shaving, but decided against it. She quickly washed her face and got to work. She picked a shade that would look gorgeous both on her natural blue gray skin and her glamoured form. 

She twisted the cap off the mascara. Holding the brush close to her eye, she looked up and blinked a few times before doing the same to the other eye. She examined her eyeliner to see if it needed to be sharpened before applying. Satisfied, she tugged gently at her lid. Her tail flicked behind her as she carefully filled in her waterline. Once she was done, she sifted through the top drawer looking for a brush to use for the eyeshadow. She landed on the one that looked like a rose, a gift from Mountain from years prior. She drew the brush through the pallet, collecting the color before softly swiping it over her eyelid. She ended up going with the smokey look. 

When both eyes were finished she stepped back to take herself in. Rain tilted her head, chewing her lip trying to figure out what was missing. 

“Oh!” She chirped when it dawned on her. 

She pulled out her liquid liner and carefully drew a cat eye shape. Now it was perfect. She was perfect. Rain gathered her supplies and meticulously put them back exactly where they belonged before pulling out the little bottle of hair gel. She removed the headband from her hair, running her fingers through it a few times to fix it up a bit. She fiddled with it until she had a good wind-blown look that highlighted the waves in it. Rain scooped a small amount of gel onto her fingers and raked them through her hair one more time. Just enough to keep it exactly the way she wanted it. 

She walked back out to her vanity, pulling out the jewelry box. She carefully clasped on the pearls from Dew, smiling at the way they shined against her neck. She slipped on a few rings, simple silver bands, one on each finger. All that was left was to throw on the boots from Mountain and Rain would be ready for the evening. She did one last look over the mirror. She smiled adorned with the gifts from her pack. Quite literally wrapped up in the love they had for her. She was gorgeous. She was herself. 

She stalked out to the common room where the whole pack was gathered. All of them were in various stages of ready for the night of bar hopping. Swiss was almost finished and Cirrus was still in her pajamas. Rain went to the kitchen to get something to eat so she wouldn’t have to subject herself to shitty bar food. She grinned hearing the whistle from where Swiss was sitting. 

“Lookin good princess! It’s about time you put that skirt on for me.” 

“It’s not for you Swiss” she rolled her eyes, but her tone was light. 

“Yeah? Then who’s it for?” 

“Mountain.” 

“Really?” The giant perks up from where he’s hunched over the kitchen counter. 

“No. Well, maybe later. I just wanted to make him jealous” she whispers to Mountain. 

Mountain chuckles and flicks her with his tail before turning his attention back to the joint he’s rolling. 

“I heard that! So it is for me.”

“No” Rain walks back into the common area “It's actually for…”

She stops dead in her tracks, mouth drying up when she makes eye contact with Swiss. His shirt is still half unbuttoned as he sits with his head resting against his knuckles. His eyes are half closed and he smiles with all fang. Sly. Cocky. He devours her with one look. 

Rain can feel it then. The fire in her gut, the ache in her fangs. The need to sink her teeth into something and not let go. Messy and possessive. She wanted to hunt. She swallows hard, tearing her eyes away from Swiss in a feeble attempt to quell the burn. 

“It’s actually for the pack. Was gonna get us some free drinks tonight.” 

“How considerate of you tadpole.” 

The whiskey and tobacco scent of Swiss is so much stronger and Rain knows he’s right behind her. Her fangs throb desperate to sink into anything. She slinks away from him before he can make any contact. She knows it would’ve been over if he did. She heads back to the kitchen, grabbing an apple before going to her room. 

“Text me when we’re leaving” she throws over her shoulder. 

“Don’t you want dinner?” Mountain calls. 

“Give my plate to Phantom.” 

“Fuck yea!” 

She closes her door and leans against it. She takes a few deep breaths and hisses before taking a generous bite of the apple. It’s not the same as sinking her teeth into prey, but she can’t exactly do that now. She was not going to ruin this outfit the very first time she wore it. 

She checked the time on her phone and cursed. This was one of the many reasons she hated the winter months. The early sunset. The early moonrise. It wasn’t necessarily bad but on the rare occasion of the pack going out it was nothing more than a hindrance and tonight just so happened to be the first full moon of the new year. She knew it was tonight, she always knew what night it would happen, but she thought she could deal with it. Maybe even make use of it, but that relied on her making it out before the moon came out. The extra magick from the pull of the celestial body would make it difficult for her to glamour. The extra energy made her antsy, she wanted to run, chase, hunt. 

A ding from her phone broke her from that thought. A text from Dew. 

Still wanna go out? I know it’s tonight 

Deep down she knew Dew would understand if she backed out. All of them would really, they’ve all been on the receiving end of Rain’s moon drunk mind. 

I promised drinks, didn't I? 

It was a dumb decision trying to be around humans on the full moon as a water ghoul, but she’d be damned if she got all dressed up and didn’t show off. 

The ride to the bar was quick and Rain couldn’t have been more thankful. The combination of Swiss’ scent and the cramped seating made her unable to sit still. She couldn’t wait to let everything out on some unsuspecting humans. Once inside, the glamoured pack picked a booth in the back and settled. Mountain became the designated seat watcher as the ghouls deposited their loose items and filtered into the crowd. 

Rain made a beeline for the bar. She sat on a stool at the end and ordered something small for herself. She scanned the crowd, looking for someone she could easily sink her claws into. 

“This seat taken?” 

Rain looked up to see a man gesturing to the stool next to her. She could smell it on him, in his blood. He was already buzzed. Looks like she wouldn’t need to work as hard as she thought. 

“No, go right ahead” she flashed him a smile. 

“I like your makeup. Makes your eyes pop.” 

“Thank you” she takes a sip of her drink. It’s watered down and she fights not to gag, but it was cheap. She’d be able to get the good stuff soon enough. 

The man calls the bartender over and orders something for himself.

“How about another one on me?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. We’ve only been talking for what? Two minutes?” 

“What better way to get to know someone than over a few drinks?” 

“Do you normally blow your money on people you want to know?” 

“Only the pretty ones.” 

Rain almost rolls her eyes, but takes the opportunity and orders. They talk for a while if you could even call it that. All she does is nod, smile, laugh here and there, and occasionally ask a question to feign interest. She keeps him talking, keeps him loose and light. Keeps ordering. Eventually, he’s drunk enough he has no apprehension when she asks him to buy a round for her friends with some lie that it was Mountain’s birthday and she didn’t have the money to pay for all of them. She catches Cumulus’ eye when the drinks are brought to the booth they claimed and she blows Rain a kiss. 

She feels that ache in her fangs again and her adrenaline spikes at the successful performance. Normally she’d slip away and start again with a different human enjoying the chase as much as the reward, but the moon’s influence made Rain throw caution to the wind. She started to get handsy with him, wanting to see how far she could push it. Wanted to see if she could beat her record for how many drinks she got for the pack in one night. She kept him laughing. Kept him drinking. Kept him ordering. 

Maybe her plan was working a little too well. He reeked of alcohol when he got closer to Rain. She wasn’t sure if he just had that much or the full moon was allowing her water ghoul sense out even through the glamour. His movements were sluggish and his words slurred as he tried to return the small touches Rain had been giving for the better part of the night. He tried to reach out and pull her closer to him, but he miscalculated how far she was. He ended up knocking a half-empty glass over and right onto Rain. She stared at the rapidly growing stain on her white skirt, white-hot rage flowing through her veins. 

“‘M sorry bout that. Let me…whoa you good?” 

“Course I am. It was just a little spill” she says through gritted teeth. 

“You sure? You look gray.” 

She swiped her tongue over her teeth feeling the fangs rapidly growing. She stood abruptly.

“I’m going to go clean up.” 

“Wait” he called, standing up and stumbling after her “lemme help you. Least I can do.”

She didn’t even hear him over the roaring in her ears as she stalked to the bathroom. She knew he was following but she couldn’t give two shits right now. That is until he tried to do exactly as he said he would. She tried to slam the door closed before he came in, but he weaseled his way inside, locking the door. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Come onnnn it’s my fault let me help.”

“Yes it is your fault that’s exactly why I want you to leave.” 

He only stepped closer. Rain could feel the last hold on her glamour slipping. 

“I said fuck off.” 

“At least let me pay for it.” 

He grabs her wrist and Rain can only see red. She drops her glamour completely and shoves him against the door. She clamps a hand over his mouth, digging her claws into his flesh. She sinks her fangs deep into his artery letting the blood dribble down her chin. She clenches her jaw, tearing meat from his throat as he tries to scream. He gurgles and chokes on his own blood. It coats the fingers Rain has over his mouth. She snaps her head back, tearing out muscle and swallowing. Blood erupts from what used to be a neck making his and Rain’s fronts slick as a puddle forms below them. She could care less about the mess. Her outfit was already ruined. She drinks from his artery until the man slumps onto the floor. He looks up at her with blank eyes. 

“What? You said you wanted to pay for it.” 

Blood is splattered across the back of the door and on the floor. The man’s body sits in a puddle of it. Rain sees the gore on her skirt and growls. She kicks the lifeless body. She swipes her tongue over her maw, letting the metallic taste wash over her and sate anger. 

“Tadpole what the fuck?” 

She whips around coming face to face with Swiss. He quickly relocks the door stepping over the body to get to Rain. 

“What did that jackoff do to you?” 

“He ruined the outfit you got me” she gestures to the original stain now completely hidden under copious amounts of blood. 

“Mhm right yeah understandable but did ya have to kill him inside. Aurora and Phantom are losing their minds out there at the smell.” 

“Since when were you sensible?” 

“Since Aether didn’t come and Mountain and Cirrus are trying to wrestle our new summons outside.” 

Rain rolls her eyes. 

“We gotta clean this up before the humans find out. I really don’t wanna have to break you out of a cop car. Once was enough.” 

“Hey I’m not Dew! I’m not dumb enough to get caught.” 

Swiss stares at her incredulously and gestures to the body currently marinating in its own blood. She doesn’t know if it’s the influence of the moon’s pull or the rage still simmering in her, but the moment Swiss reaches to grab the body she pounces and slams him against the wall. 

“Rain” he warns. 

“Swiss” she huffs “I can smell it on you.” 

She noses where his scent gland would be under the glamour. He swallows hard. 

“Clean the murder scene first.”

Deep down she knew he was right, he was only looking out for her, but she couldn't care less at the moment. She was wired from the original chase, the taste of blood, the arousal coming in waves off Swiss despite how sensible he tried to be. Normally she’d agree. Normally she wouldn’t make such a mess. Normally it would be quick and quiet save for the initial splash of water. But the moon was whispering to her, telling her she was an unstoppable force of nature. She was still ravenous. She had to get rid of the energy before she’d be any real help. 

She drags her fangs over Swiss’ neck before licking a stripe up to his lips. 

“Rain come on” he tries to keep his voice steady, strong but he can't stop himself from twitching against her. 

She drags her hand up his leg and palms him through his jeans “You’re hard.” 

“And you’re covered in blood” he hisses before shoving his tongue down her throat.

“Doesn’t take much for you does it? Thought you were being sensible” she pants, grinding her thickening cock against his. 

“Shut it and make it quick you little siren.”

She grins before shoving her tongue into his mouth. She licks against his tongue, making him taste the remnants of her hunt. She presses her body flush to his, still grinding against him. He groans feeling her claws dig into his wrists. She nips at his bottom lip, chasing the bit of blood that bubbles up. 

She grabs a fist full of hair and pulls, bullying him towards the sink without breaking contact. She pushes him against it and cages him in with her arms. She breaks from the kiss, trailing her lips across his jaw. She sucks right at the juncture between his ear and jaw making Swiss keen. Rain sucks and bites down on his neck as her fingers come up and undo the top few buttons of his shirt. She pulls the fabric back just enough to kiss across his collarbone on one side and pinch his nipple on the other. 

“I fucking love it when you get like this” Swiss sighs, slipping his hand up her skirt. 

He squeezes her cock through her panties making her pull back with a hiss. She makes quick work of his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down over his thighs. She flips him over in a show of strength that has Swiss grunting in surprise. She spares a glance up and fucking throbs at the sight. Her covered in blood, leaning over a half glamoured Swiss somehow making him look so small despite how large he really is. Rain catches his eye and just like before in the common area it’s all over. 

She brings two fingers to his hole, gasping when she feels how wet he is. 

“What? You act like you’re the only one with water. The moon affects us all Rainy” he wiggles his hips back towards her fingers. 

“Lord’s below” she swipes her fingers through his slick, gathering a generous amount. 

With her free hand, she pulls her panties down letting her cock spring free. Rain hoists up her skirt and jacks herself, spreading the pre already pooling at the tip and Swiss’ slick over her dick. She holds herself at the base, squeezing a little as she brings the head to Swiss’ waiting hole. She pushes the tip in, hissing at the tightness. 

“You’re so fucking wet you didn’t even need my hands.” 

Swiss moans low at the stretch, burning just enough to feel good, perfectly mixing pain and pleasure. She was right. He was so wet he could already feel it dripping down the back of his thighs and she was only halfway in. He loved being a multi ghoul. 

Once she bottomed out she wasted no time in chasing her release, immediately setting a brutal pace. She pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into him over and over. The stink of blood and the feel of Swiss’ tight wet hole already has her losing her mind. She hunches over him, leaning on the sink with her elbows as she fucks hard into him. 

Swiss moans a string of curses with every pass of her cock against his prostate. He’ll have bruises on his hips tomorrow with the force she’s slamming him against the sink. She adjusts her position, finding an angle that hits him deeper. 

“Fucking shit Rainy. There right there yeah” his hand finds his cock and he jacks himself with each of Rain’s thrusts. 

“‘M close” she spits through gritted teeth “gonna fucking cum. Give you something to think about till we’re back in the den.” 

Swiss clenches hard around her and she swears she sees stars. The sound of slick skin against skin fills the small bathroom as Rain erratically grinds into him. She pulls out once more, going rigid when she sinks back in. She screws her eyes shut with a groan as she shoots deep into him with little twitches of her hips. 

She only takes a moment to catch her breath before slapping Swiss’ hand away. She takes his dick in her own hand, pulling and squeezing him until he’s spilling all over her knuckles. She milks every last drop out of him until he’s gasping and grabbing her wrist, begging her to stop. 

Rain pulls out of Swiss slowly, marveling at the mix of slick and cum that drips out of his ass. She snickers and tucks herself back into her panties. Swiss sits up stretching his back with a pop. He pulls his boxers and pants back and buckles his belt. 

“You better make good on that promise.” 

“Hm?” 

“Oh don’t worry” she gives him a quick yet filthy kiss “I don’t plan on letting you go when you’re like this.”

She gropes his ass and laughs at the wetness soaking through already. 

“As hot as that is, I was talking about this” he motions to the gore covered body in the corner. 

“Oh. Shit.” 

“Yeah oh shit is right. Now come on, let's get rid of this so you can pound me into your mattress.” 

She smiles at him “How are we going to do this without getting caught?” 

Swiss thinks for a moment “How much convincing do you think it would take to get Phantom to eat it?” 

[witchersmistress]

The Damned and the rage

Happy Monday, i'm back in action, so buckle up i guess

Trigger Warning: , swearing, anger and insanity

Word count: 4.2K

  Harper’s POV

* A few weeks later*

Every week is the same. I go through the motions, but I’m frozen inside, as if it’s not really me there at all. There’s a Harper-sized doll in my place, someone I used to be but am no longer. The world has forgotten my existence.

Only the Phantom remembers. I wait for him, for the clean smell of his house, the polished hardwood, the curl of his hard body around mine, the detachment I feel when he’s inside me that’s the closest thing to freedom I can imagine. When I’m not there, I’m a ghost walking the street at night, waiting for him to come back. He always does. Two days a week, he takes me home, feeds me. He fills half his closet with new clothes for me, shoes, jewelry, an expensive purse to carry my phone and keys and wallet. Everything comes to his house in boxes or bags delivered to the door, so he doesn’t have to leave the house except to get me and take me home. He checks the ring he put through my bellybutton to make sure it’s healed, puts dark-colored contact lenses in my eyes, touching my eyeballs like they are his own. I think maybe he’ll pluck out my eye and replace his blind one. But I don’t move, don’t try to stop him when he reaches between my lids and sets the thin lens over mine. “Good girl,” he says, stroking my cheek. “Beautiful.” He opens the closet door and sets me before the mirror. He tells me I’m perfect now, that I’m ready. I stare at the stranger in the mirror with dark eyes and dark lips and brown-black hair, and I think she looks ready, so he must be right. I don’t ask him what I’m ready for. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

A few weeks later, I notice the dark green field outside the Phantom’s window turning hay colored as the grasses droop in the late summer heat. Daisies and Black-Eyed Susans and w8ild asters dot the grass now. The Phantom stands there, looking out with his hands clasped behind his back, like he’s looking over an empire and not an overgrown field of weeds. “Have the Walkers contacted you?” he asks. I have the same phone number, but no one ever contacts me. Why would they? I haven’t contacted them, either. Everyone texted on the OnlyWords app, and I didn’t download it on my new phone. I didn’t have friends, anyway. Only the Walker boys and their friends got close, and they left me to die. They washed their hands of me, and I have no need to change that. I give my head a single shake, then realize he won’t see it. “No.” He rubs his jaw. I can hear the rasp of stubble. “It’s not enough,” he mutters. At dinner, he gives me a little black dress and tells me to put it on and do my hair. The dress is low-cut but not too revealing, and it hugs my curves and falls around me like it must have cost thousands of dollars. I roll on the stockings and garters he left with it. I put in the diamond teardrop earrings he left sitting on the dresser. I put my hair up the way he instructed and dab on some of the makeup he left sitting there for me. The lipstick is too dark, but I smear it over my lips anyway. I’m no longer startled when I see a stranger staring back at me from behind the closet door. Does it matter who she is? I know she’s a good girl.

The Phantom walks behind me and puts a necklace around my neck. I can feel it resting cold against my chest, and it makes me shiver. I touch the charm, a diamond ballerina. He runs his knuckles up the back of my neck, skims his fingertips along my bare shoulders. “You look like…” He bows his head, so I can only see his golden hair, not even his eyes or mouth to give away what he’s thinking. I’ve never wondered what he’s thinking before. It never mattered. After dinner, he orders me to the bed without the usual shower. He doesn’t undress me, just commands me to lie on my back while he pushes up my dress. Then he picks up his phone, angling it so it gets my whole body. “No faces,” I cry, my voice echoing in the high-end apartment. I throw my hands over my face, surprised I can still react that passionately to anything. He’s shot dozens of homemade porn clips of his dick going into me, but he promised me no one would know it was me. Usually he fucks me from behind, anyway. I feel exposed on my back, vulnerable and scared in a way I haven’t felt with him before. Suddenly, I’m shaking all over. “Keep your hands over your face,” he says, laying a reassuring hand on my thigh. “No one will know it’s you.” He plays with my underwear, rubbing his cock against the outside of them, pulling them between my lips, then down my thighs. I pull a pillow over my face. He tugs it a little higher, setting my necklace straight before going back to work.

I try not to feel what he’s doing, rubbing his cock between my lips, getting me wet. Finally, he pushes inside me. He lifts my leg and swings it around so I’m lying on my side, so he’s filming my hip with the tattoos. Someone could definitely recognize that. Above my hip, there’s a D branded into my skin. What if my attackers see it and come back for me? “Stop,” I gasp. “I’m almost done,” he says, moving my leg back where it was, so I’m on my back. He cums quickly, shooting once over my belly before pushing back inside me to finish. He doesn’t lower his phone until he’s gotten the whole messy scene. “Good girl,” he says. “You were perfect.” Then he steps into the bathroom, and I hear the shower running. I get up, my limbs shaking, my pulse racing. Something’s happening to me. Something awakening, some horrible monster that’s rising like a tidal wave inside me, like Godzilla emerging from the ocean. I can’t breathe. I want to race up the ladder onto the roof, to suck in the night and shriek into the sky. I want to sail over the edge, arms and legs wide, and soar to my death below. Some impulse in me rebels at the expensive silk constricting my waist, the heavy pads of the bra. Suddenly, I’m revolted by the body I’m in, by what I’ve allowed to happen to it. I yank off the dress, tearing at the strangling fabric, kick off the heels he put me in, rip off the garters and stockings. I throw them aside and pace the floor in my bare feet, naked as an animal. My heart is skittering erratically around my chest.

I feel trapped, caged, though he’s never once told me I couldn’t leave. In fact, he made me leave. I’ve been free all along, and yet, I’m not free. He’s treated me better than anyone ever has, than anyone should, and yet, I think I’ll scream if I see his mask again, if he calls me his good girl one more time. I pull off the earrings and reach for the box they were in, my fingers shaking. I lay them in the jewelry box. There’s a sleek black paper bag with the jeweler’s name on the side because he bought them just for me, maybe just today, and had someone deliver them. There’s a little tag stapled to the bag, the kind that comes on flowers. The kind that tells a delivery person where to send them, since the Phantom never leaves his apartment. There’s a name written on the tag. In looping cursive handwriting, the words Mr. D.

[de-profundis-ad-astra]

Let’s Get Something Straight

Pairing || William Miller x Reader Rating || E (18+ ONLY) Warnings || Sex in the great outdoors, sex on Will’s car Word Count || 4.1k shut up Prompt || Anonymous Request: Will and the reader have a fight that ends with them having rough makeup sex. Taglist ||   @firefeatherx @goldenhour-goldenboy @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @phoenixhalliwell @havenforafrazzledmind @living-reminder @beatriz-silva-00 @pascalz @worldominatorx @givemethatgold @agirllovespancakes @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @veuliee @briskywalker @the-bird-suit @mapache-lector @skylyknightly (let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

You decided a long time ago that the worst thing about text messages is that they line up on your locked phone screen and you end up reading them without even wanting to.

What was the name of your contact in Germany?

Lost the password to the bus station locker in Boulder. Help?

Are you still alive?

William Miller has the best memory out of any person you’ve ever met. There’s no way he lost the name of your contact or, god forbid, forgot a four number combination for a locker when that man keeps track of every damn thing in his life. He’s just trying to get a response out of you.

However, there was something even worse. When the text messages….

Stop.

The emptiness of your phone screen is agony, but you can’t seem to stop checking it. After about a month of this, you’re sitting, feeling bruised, at the window of a coffee shop. Your phone is face down beside your mug and your laptop. On the other side of the window, a fall rain shower sweeps down the small town street. it wets down the leaves on the sidewalk and fills the shop with the crisp scent of wet pavement every time a patron bustles in or out.

You respond to Will’s requests for help. Just because things hadn’t worked out between you doesn’t mean you had to become an asshole. You had gotten through a month on your own; you were doing well without him.

As well as could be expected.

You’d run and gunned, fought, and made love with the adamant, selfless, hedonistic man who was William Miller for a year and a half. It had been a time of soaring, you realize, and golden, flying time full of freedom to touch, snuggle, fight, endure. You hadn’t fully realized this until it all went south–when a mission had gone wrong and Ben had let it slip that William had tried to do it on his own and that was the top of those other three botched missions and the time Will said:

No, not gonna go back through that. It’s better to move on.

Move on? How delusional are you?

You can’t escape the furious pain in Will’s eyes when you left, after he tried to kiss you like that would change your mind. Despite the ugliness of the past year, Will, in all his tall, deadly, blunt, powerful glory, made parts of you hum with contentment and warmth–something you still don’t now how you’ll survive without.

You gulp down some coffee to force back tears. You’ll survive, anyway.

And that’s when you see his car roll right past the window.

You choke, eyes fastening on the passengers–it’s them. Will driving, Ben riding. You shrink down as if you can hide behind your mug.

Oh no. Your own car is parked right in front of the shop. The Millers don’t miss a thing, but you desperately hope this one time–

Ben’s head swivels, his eyes locked onto your truck. Will notices and cranes his head back to stare at your truck, too.

Then they’re gone, and you’re sitting there, heart racing.

Well, shit.

–

“Feel like I’m in freaking high school again! Ooh, better take a different way to class so I don’t pass his fucking locker!”

Your falsetto fills the cabin of your truck as you navigate the town’s main drag. You’re talking to yourself.

Again.

“Well is the whole country going to be a high school now?” you continue. “Or… no, I’ll go be all mature and woman-power-ish, and I’ll just stick it out and pretend they’re not here–SURE, NO PROBLEM, LET ME JUST WALTZ AROUND LIKE I’M NOT A FUCKING MESS… godDAMMIT!”

And now you’re crying because dammit, you fucking miss William Miller and his fucking car and his fucking smile and the way his hair sticks up in back in the morning and the look he gets when he knows you’re bullshitting him and the way he’s never cold and the way he gloats when he makes you scream in pleasure, like he just invented the fucking wheel.

You bounce and splash through a few blocks of neighborhood, glaring furiously. The sun is cutting through masses of gold leaves, turning the streets into shiny, steaming lanes out of a storybook, and you fucking hate it.

And then, in your rear view mirror, you see the flash of a grille and the gleam of black paint. William’s turns onto the street behind you.

There’s only one person riding in it now.

A barbed-wire spasm of pain draws a gasp from your lips. “Oh fuck, that’s it. That is it.”

And then your foot stomps on the accelerator and you are getting out of town; you’re not coming back. You can’t handle this, and if he’s gonna follow you, screw him; you’re not gonna stop. The two-lane country road you’re on goes somewhere you don’t know, but you haul down it anyway, jaw mulishly set as you blow through stop sign after stop sign.

Will doesn’t stop, either.

You’ve learned several reasons why the boys call him Ironhead. This one takes the cake.

He follows you. And keeps following you. Soon, you’ve been going about three miles, and you’re starting to get more worried than angry. What if he’s off his rocker?

Suddenly, he starts to fade back. You let off the accelerator a bit as he fades back more… and then he fades so quickly, he has to be stopping.

He pulls over to the side of the road: I’m done.

Good! You keep going, William shrinking into the sunset…

… for about a hundred feet.

You curse and slam on the brakes. You wrench your truck into park and sit for a moment, gasping.

“What the hell?” you breathe. When he pulled over, you had felt pain worse than anything you felt yet.

You open your door, and cool air full of fields and trees and rain washes over you. The setting sun lays down a warm blanket as you slam the door shut behind you. You walk to the tailgate of your truck and stare down the road.

The car slowly returns to the road and crawls toward you, lurching over potholes. Your eyes devour Will’s silhouette as his car comes to a stop and falls silent about fifteen feet away. The door screeches open, and his workboots hit the pavement.

He looks pissed.

Well, you’re pissed, too. You wipe your eyes and meet him halfway, not a step more, not a step less. It’s like charging a lion. You cross your arms. It feels as if you’re seeing him for the first time all over again–it’s overwhelming how good he looks-stubble, tired eyes and all.

“Cryin’ over me, sweetheart?” he asks, feet wide, chin up.

Just the sound of his rough baritone makes you melt, but you fight it. “Following me like a stalker?” you retort.

He gives you the bullshit look and closes in a step. The setting sun catches half his face, and the light pools in his gold-brown right eye as he raises his eyebrows. “You’ve got nothing, sweetheart.”

You shove your face toward his. “Neither do you, buster.”

The two of you stare at each other, and the temperature between you shoots up. Will’s generous lips part and he starts to angle his head-

You recoil. “How many girls have you slept with since I left?”

His eyes go cold, his expression ugly. “I’ll tell you if you tell me how many guys have gotten into your pants.”

“Fuck you! Nobody’s gotten anything from me, you bastard!”

“Well the last chick I touched was you, you bitch!”

And then you’re just glaring at each other.

“Why did you lie to me about those missions?” you demand.

“I didn’t lie exact-”

“It’s called lying by omission, Will! Maybe if you’d-”

And then he’s in your face again, teeth bared. “I wanted to keep you safe,  dammit, but I’ve realized I can’t–fucking helli–I realized it, but you were too busy packing up and not listening!”

You blink at him. “Say that again?”

He closes his eyes and sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I get it, okay? I get it. And really, I don’t want to have a girl who’s just something I need to protect; I want one who kicks ass. Who I can still protect. A little.”

Unconvinced, you squint at him.

“Come back with me.” He blurts it quickly, only briefly meeting your eyes.

There are crickets singing in the long grass. The sun is halfway beneath the horizon. Most of you is screaming yes and snuggling into his strong chest. A fraction waits and doubts.

“I’m not asking again,” he says more softly, and he meets your gaze, straightening his shoulders. “I’m not gonna beg.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” The words exit your mouth, and with them goes the cold tightness that’s been clutching your chest for a month. Loose warmth fills you up instead. “You don’t have to.” You step into the tall sturdiness of him, tucking your head into his shoulder. His powerful arms encircle you tightly and he tucks his face into your neck, a tremor running through him.

You stand like that for a long time, breathing against each other, squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter. The sun slips behind the horizon, leaving a hollow sky dotted with orange clouds. You can hear traffic on bigger roads, but it’s all far, far, far away.

Soon, you can’t breathe, he’s squeezing so tightly. Your lips start to smile without your permission. “God, you’re such a-“

He pulls back. His mouth crashes into yours and it feels so soft-wet-familiar-hot-delicious, your knees give a little spasm before giving out. You quickly grab him around the neck and hang on, overwhelmed by how deeply you missed this. If his urgency is any indication, Will missed it just as much. He buries his fingers in your hair, pressing you closer as he slants his mouth over yours, first one way and then the other, filling you with his taste–taste that floods you with wet heat all the way to the core.

He breaks away, and you moan a protest, trying to recapture him, but his breath fans over your face. “Hey.” His voice is gruff. You can barely open your eyes, but when you do, you stiffen.

This is an expression you’ve never seen before. Eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, nostrils flared … somehow he looks ravenous and vulnerable at the same time. And somehow, it makes you want to flee and pounce all at once. “W-Will-“

He takes your wrist and pulls you toward his car. You follow him through the deepening blue, the crunching of your boots almost too loud in the dusky hush. He pulls you around, and the backs of your legs hit his car. His big hands fall to your hips, massaging as he grinds into you, breathing faster. He’s hooked his thumbs into the side belt loops and he’s tugging down.

You gape up at him. “Will–wait, Will, you can’t –“

He presses his forehead to yours and you almost lose your balance; only his grip on your hips keeps you upright. His nose brushes yours, smooth and warm. “You tell me flat-out no and we’ll do this somewhere else,” he growls. “Otherwise, we are going to get something straight, right here, right now. Got it?”

“… Yeah? …Wait. Get what straight?”

“And there’s why I’m doing this.” He rises, and, staring you in the eyes, unbuckles your belt.

You have never, ever been naked outside a bathroom or bedroom. You grab his wrists, trying not to fall back onto the car’s hood. “Will–W-Will –“

“The deal is you tell me no, remember?” His hands keep moving despite your grip on his wrists. The rasp of your zipper coming down is loud in the wide silence, and you squeak when he twists free of your grip. He slides his hands in between your jeans and panties, his fingers digging into your ass as he pushes your pants down around your thighs.

“Oh, I missed this.” He pins you to his chest with one arm while his other snakes down over your ass and burrows between your legs from behind. You squirm as his fingers stroke up and down your pussy, your hands fisted in his red and black flannel. Making a rough sound deep in his throat, he presses one finger in deeper than the others and opens you through your panties. You bury your face in his shirt now, overcome by embarrassment and a roaring tsunami of please yes!

He withdraws, and you peek out as his chest expands. His eyes are closed and he’s pressing his fingers to his nose, breathing deeply. He opens his eyes, and your lips part when you see the quicksilver gleam of liquid over his lower lashes.

And then he’s moving fast. You shiver as he rips off his flannel and spreads it on the car’s hood behind you. Then, clad in a t-shirt, he pushes your jeans to your ankles and lifts you onto his flannel. He pulls off his t-shirt and now you’re almost crying; the familiar planes of his chest unravel all the barriers you’d built the last month to remain upright.

He grabs your shirt, and, frightened, you clamp your arms to your sides. Unstoppable, he slides his hands up your back and unhooks your bra instead.

His hands are splayed over your back…

… now forcing themselves under your arms…

… under your bra –

You keen and arch. He grins like he always does when your breasts are in his hands, and squeezes. You melt backward, knees falling open. The car creaks as he pulls you to the edge and settles into the cradle of your hips, wriggling to press flush against your core. You shudder when you feel how hard he is. “That’s better,” he murmurs. And then he makes rings with his thumbs and forefingers, tightly frames your nipples with them, and nuzzles into your breasts.

You toss your head back, nails digging into his shoulders. “Oh god–oh g-g-god Will!”

He bites and tongues your nipples slowly through your shirt and bra, so the damp heat of his mouth soaks through to your prickling skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, face burning. And then, with one deft movement, he’s got your shirt and bra over your head. You gasp as he yanks to loosen your hands - and then both your shirt and bra are flying off to join his shirt.

“Will! Will, no-Will!” You start to sit up, trying to track your clothing, but the cool air on your bare back frightens you into lying right back down. The feeling of the open on your skin is terrifying. It’s not just air; it’s distances; it’s the world. You cover your chest with a curse, glaring up at Will, who looms against the fiery clouds wearing a smirk.

“Was that an official no?” he asks, gyrating his hips the tiniest bit.

You groan at the sensation. “Nnn-no, no, but Will, what if someone comes?”

He hums deep in his chest. “Well I think two people might be–”

“No!” Irritated, you shove with your legs, pushing him back a step so you can bend your knees and press them together.  “You know what I mean.”

He stands where you shoved him and lifts his hands in surrender. “They’ll see us lying on a car. Y’know,” he adds, belt clinking as he undoes it, “they’d see less of you if I’m on top of you.”

You don’t open your legs and keep glaring. The sky is so big. What if some pervy farmer is watching from that copse over there? Teens out on a romp? Your teeth start to chatter.

Will drops his pants to reveal his straining boxers. He steps up to your fused knees and leans against your shins, hands flanking your hips. He takes in the sight of your naked body lying on the hood of his car and curses through clenched teeth before taking a deep, steadying breath. “You’d feel better if you’d let me in, sweetheart. Let me show you.”

He runs his hands –they are so, so warm- up your shins, over your knees, down the backs of your thighs. His fingers hook into the flesh on either side of your pussy and pull it wide open so your panties cling to the sensitive skin. You gasp, squeezing your legs tighter together.

It does nothing.

He grins wolfishly and his fingers slither into your pussy, skin to skin. You jump with a bleat, fingers digging into your upper arms. His fingers delve deep, all the way to your opening, where they swirl in the thick wetness. His breath hisses through his teeth. “So fucking wet.” Your toes curl as he gently swipes upward to your clit.

Abruptly, he whips his fingers hard over your entire pussy, forcing it open with every pass. Your entire body goes taut and you moan through clenched teeth as the sensuous heat in your belly skyrockets. He grinds his finger down on your clit a few times and you throw your head back with a strangled cry. “Will-Will-please!”

He doesn’t stop. You fight to keep your legs together as the fire between them tries to spasm them apart, but it gets harder and harder. And Will knows exactly what’s happening.

“When you come, your legs always open up,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll get you either way. Come on. You let me in now, and I’ll cover you when you lose it.”

With a desperate squeal, you open up, reach up, grab his shoulders, and pull him down. He lets you with a chuckle, planting his left hand by your head to support his weight. “There we go,” he gloats, pulling his hand free of your panties so his boxer-clad erection can nestle into the wet heat of your core. All he can do in the moment is moan as he settles against you

He is so warm. He leans down and kisses you deeply, slowly, while his hips languidly rock into yours. You whimper into his mouth; your clit is sparking and tingling under the sliding ridge of his cock, and you feel frantically hollow.

Will breaks away. His cheeks look darker. He lays his head on your chest and lifts his hips, using both hands to free himself from his boxers. As he pumps his cock a few times with his hand, his stubble bites into your sternum, and he knows it; he lifts his head by dragging his cheek over first one nipple, then the other. You choke, hands white-knuckled on his shoulders.

“So.” He stares you right in the eyes. “We gotta set something … straight … for the future.”

“Huh?”

He breathes through pursed lips for control and slides a hand between you. He fists the crotch of your panties for a second and you freeze, waiting. “From now on,” he says roughly, “whether I make a mistake or you make a mistake-“

He wrenches your panties to the side, and the head of his cock is immediately against your opening. You stiffen, the hollowness inside you yawning unbearably deep.

“Or you’re… pissed or… I’m pissed…” he struggles to continue. A drip of sweat lands on your neck. “No …matter what,” he gasps, “I’m … y-yours.” And he shoves deep into you–stretching and filling your hollowness at last. Both of you cry out at the same time, melting into muffled curses.

Then Will grasps your chin and looks you straight in the eye. “And you’re … mine…”

“Y-y-yours,” you breathe, throat closing up with tears.

His entire aspect loosens. He buries his face in your neck and starts rocking shallowly into you. Your entire body lights up all the way to your fingertips. Sweat blooms all over you, chilling the skin that isn’t sliding against Will’s. You wrap your arms around his neck, wishing you could wrap your legs around his hips, but your jeans keep your ankles trapped beneath him.

Then he slows almost to a stop, and you squirm. Slowly, he pulls almost all the way out. Then –

“Mine.” He slides in deep.

You gasp for breath, holding perfectly still, eyes huge as his breath fills your ear.

He pulls back again, leaving you hollow. He pauses, and you wait, not even breathing –

Any second now…

…How long is he going to-

“Mine.”

You cry out as he thrusts deep again.

… And then pulls back again. Your nails are starting to dig into the soft skin of his back. Then-

“Mine.”

“God, Will!” you wail, arching desperately. And then you wait…

“Mine.”

Your eyes are leaking and you don’t know if you’re sobbing-crying or just struggling for breath-

“Mine.”

You shriek, writhing-

“Mine.”

“Please, please, plea-“

“Mine.”

“WILL!”

And then he picks up the pace a little, his voice a low, low force in your ear.  “Mine … mine … mine … mine … mine … you’re mine …”

It’s if he’s pushing the word into you. You tremble around him, trying to open up further, to stretch absolutely wide.

His voice hardens and his thrusts sharpen. “Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine-”

Every time he thrusts… every time he fills you… to the fullest

“Mine-”

When the tip of him penetrates the deepest, that one word floods your ear

“Mine-”

Pulses of electric heat ratchet you tighter each time, until you’re shaking, head thrown back, pinned open–

“Mine-”

With no choice but to accept the humming tide rising between your legs.

“Mine-”

All of this, after so long, feels so GOOD. o

“Mine-”

So GOOD. His voice is just a growl now. Getting faster and louder.

“Oh god!”

“Mine!”

“Please!”

“Mine-mine-”

“W-WILL PLEASE-”

“MINE-MINE-MINE-”

Then he swells and cracks the last barrier between you and the maelstrom –

-and you scream WIIIIILLLLLLLLLL—! clenching down on him and writhing, and it’s the best, oh it’s the BEST—

He grabs your hips, pulls back, and then thrusts so hard it almost knocks the air out of you, penetrating your spasming pussy deeper than he ever has before, which just shoves you further into orgasm.

As you try to scream, he rasps, “M-mine … oh-f-f-f-f-uck!” And then he bites into the thick muscle at the base of your neck and snarls, twitching against your fluttering walls and flooding you with burst after burst of wet heat. He grinds into you, pressing and rubbing all the rawness inside and making you clench as it comes in waves.

It stretches on-

And on-

And on.

You end up gasping the cool, fragrant air together, riding out the last of the storm. And then he rests for a minute, almost all his weight on you. You try to relax even though you can hardly breathe, stroking his hair.

When he lifts up and pulls out, you moan. It aches, but worse than that, you feel empty again. He replaces your panties over your pussy. Then he shakily wraps a tanned arm around your waist and levers the both of you upright with his free arm.

He cups the back of your head and pulls you into his still-heaving chest. You wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle his flushed, slick skin. You breathe together until your sweat chills, and then he helps you off his car, catching you when your legs almost give out.

You both dress again in peaceful silence, laughing as you try to retrieve his shirt from a bramble bush. By the time you’re dressed, it’s hard to make out his features in the darkness.

You almost ride back into town with him in his car. But he raises his eyebrows incredulously and leads you to your truck, where he opens the door for you and smacks your ass as you get in.

“Follow me back?” he asks.

The smiling warmth in his deep voice almost makes you tackle him. After dinner, you promise yourself.

“Right behind you,” you say.

You see his teeth gleam in the shadows, and then the two of you close the truck door so slowly, it doesn’t latch, and you have to snort and do it again.  

[raleighcarrera]

#4 for Raleigh and Mc please

4. “are you trying to turn me on right now? because it’s working.”

and someone else also asked for 2. “can you help me with this zipper?”

50 NSFW starters 

in his heyday, he’d stay out partying after an awards show until the sun came up.

now, five years into dating cadence and creeping into his thirties, he’s grown comfortable with the occasional night in, especially if said night in is wrapped in expertly draped maison valentino, expensive fabric hugging each curve exquisitely.

underneath the gown she’s wearing is something even more tempting -- something skimpy from la perla, all the more intriguing to him because he hasn’t seen it yet. he’d only caught a flash of black lace and the bag that was hastily kicked under their bed before cadence’s zipper went up the rest of the way and she was dressed for the show.

he hadn’t thought about it much, during the ceremony. there were other things to focus on, like all the people coming over to their seats to congratulate them on their engagement, and cadence’s three video music awards and the way she thanked him and blew kisses during every single speech, and trying not to make too much noise in the back of the limo on their way home while cadence was kissing his neck and unbuttoning his shirt to walk her fingers over his chest. 

the paparazzi photos from outside their building were sure to be something.

not that it matters, now, with cadence dancing around their apartment on her tip-toes, heels kicked off in the entryway. her voice practically floats back to him where he’s undoing his cufflinks and rolling up the sleeves of his button-down. “babe? did you finish all the pizza rolls?”

“we finished all the pizza rolls,” raleigh corrects, dropping the diamonds that usually adorn his wrists down onto their coffee table to find her in the kitchen. “you should probably just postmate something.”

they’re due for a grocery delivery, but they’re also due for a trip, even though he hasn’t planned anything yet or told cadence he’s been thinking about going somewhere. most likely, he’ll book their flights just as she’s confirmed their order, and whatever perishables she’s picked out will go to waste while they feed each other sliced fruit on some exotic private beach instead.

he can’t wait.

cadence hums while she types out her order on her phone, passing it over to raleigh for him to key in his, too. as soon as her hands are free her arms loop around his waist, and she squishes in as close as she can get with him working to confirm their order, tapping to switch cadence’s black card out for his before thumbing the submit button.

“let’s get you out of that dress,” he says, once he’s done and her phone is tossed carelessly onto the couch. she smiles at him and lets raleigh lead her off to the bedroom, where he sits down on the edge of their bed and watches her lean over her vanity, first pulling off her jewelry, piece by piece.

watching cadence get ready is like art -- he loves seeing it all come together -- but watching her get undressed is even sexier. staring as each item comes off slowly (first her earrings, then her bracelets, then everything but that giant diamond on her left hand) feels like watching a striptease, and he isn’t shy about palming his cock absently from his place on the bed while cadence lets down her hair, the heavy curls swinging against the open back of her dress.

“are you trying to turn me on right now?” raleigh asks finally, when the sway of her hips and the arch of her back seems just a little too deliberately sensual. “because it’s working.”

cadence twists to roll her eyes at him over her shoulder. “shut up. can you come help me with this zipper?”

he stands so quickly the mattress bounces. raleigh’s hands are gentle when they move her hair out of the way, swinging it over her right shoulder so he can press his lips to the left, his hands cradling the tiny, delicate zipper on her back and sliding it all the way down to swell of her ass. 

“raleigh...” she whispers, just as the silk drops to the floor and pools at her feet. his eyes scan the length of her body, taking in what feels like miles of brown skin and black lace. 

it’s probably a good thing he hadn’t seen what she’d bought before she got dressed. he never would have let them go to the show if he had.

“jesus christ.” he knows he doesn’t sound like himself. his voice is hoarse -- surprised. “where the fuck were you hiding this?”

“i just got it yesterday.” those big eyes look up at him from underneath a strip of false eyelashes, her expression no less genuine and shy because of it. “do you like it?”

“fuck yes.” his hips press forward so that she can feel just how much, even through his dress pants. the noise cadence makes -- half surprised and half pleased -- is like music to his ears. “you look amazing.”

and, fortunately for him, there’s not a single reason he needs to keep his hands off of her. he lets his fingers fan out over her hips and squeezes, dragging her in closer.

it’s not that the bed is far, but the vanity bench is right there, so he sits down, his back to the table that’s strewn with her jewelry and makeup. raleigh spreads his legs and makes room for cadence to sit in his lap, which she does, unprompted, perched on his thigh in just her underwear while he sits fully dressed and so hard it’s starting to become bothersome.

he catches her chin between his fingers and pulls her into a kiss that’s too dirty to be sweet, his mouth moving against hers slowly and deeply, until she’s pressing forward for more and whining a little, too.

“go ahead,” raleigh encourages, ducking his head to wander his lips down her throat, into the front of her chest. “you know what i like.” 

cadence gets his dress pants open just enough to pull his cock out. he leans back in time to watch her slip her own fingers into her mouth, the round o of her red-lipsticked lips almost unfairly sexy when it slides over her hand.

the sigh that escapes when she wraps her hand around him is familiar -- routine. but just because they do this often doesn’t make it any less exciting; he wasn’t exactly a man of repeat partners, before her, but cadence somehow manages to make every single fuck feel special and unique in a way that no one else he’s slept with ever could. 

time with her only ever makes him want more. 

broad palms slip around to grab her ass, his fingers working their way under the tight fabric stretched across her to get to her bare skin. 

all the supermodels and politicians’ daughters and audrey-award winning actresses he’s had in his lap can’t hold a candle to her and the way she’s smiling at him while she pumps her hand up and down. 

raleigh hooks a finger in the side of her underwear, doing his best to tug them down without jostling her. “lift up, babe.”

she does, and then it’s easy to pull her in closer, so that they’re grinding against each other, the wet slide of cadence’s cunt exactly what he needs where he’s aching for her, the shape of her body in his hands all the more exciting when he’s using his grip to guide her into the perfect rhythm. 

‘love who i’ll be’ had gone diamond, but this is absolutely his favorite duet of theirs -- she mirrors his movements in a way that’s half killer instinct and half developed familiarity, her hips practiced when they rock against his. 

“raleigh,” cadence gasps, when they both get the angle just right and the head of his cock slips inside, “christ.”

“fuck,” he groans, the slow push forward agonizing, the way she’s squeezing around him so overwhelming it makes his chest tight. 

cadence sinks down carefully, with no regard for his mental sanity. she takes her time bringing their hips flush, undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt with trembling fingers while she moves. manicured nails scrape along the planes of his chest and dig into his shoulders when she’s fully seated, and raleigh stares at the expression of pleasure contorting her face like he’s trying to memorize it, enraptured by the flush that takes over her cheeks and the way her eyelashes flutter.

something on her vanity rattles when he leans back against the table to watch her; cadence’s bra strap falls to the side and her breasts threaten to spill out against the straining fabric with every movement, the way she’s bouncing in his lap nothing short of hypnotically captivating.

he drags her into a kiss because it feels like it’s been an eternity since they’ve been sharing the same breaths. cadence moans into his mouth sweetly and he echoes her groan; there aren’t words for how good it feels to fuck like this -- slowly and unhurried, each grind of his cock in her dragging deliciously until small sparks of heat trip down his spine and pool low in his stomach.

it’s far and wide his favorite way to end the night.

cadence’s thighs start to shake with the strain of keeping herself up, and he helps her along with his hands on her hips, kissing her through each movement until he can feel her low whines reverberating in the back of his throat, their skin sliding together where she’s starting to sweat and he’s coated in her arousal.

“jesus christ, i love fucking you,” raleigh mutters, when he can’t keep his eyes open any longer, “you’re so fucking perfect.”

her hands cup his face, and cadence smooths her thumbs across the stubbled skin of his jaw and the dips under his eyes. the gesture is so sweet and gentle it’s at odds with the way each torturous circle of her hips is slowly driving him out of his mind. “i love you, raleigh. i love you so -- so -- so much.”

it hits him at the same time his orgasm does: this is his forever, now. this is every award show for the rest of his career. this is every night, maybe, if he plays his cards right. he’ll never have to wonder where he’s going to wind up on a random weekend ever again, because no matter what mess he gets himself into, he’ll be falling asleep next to her.

cadence scratches his chest raw when she comes, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip in a gesture that’s less of a kiss and more a sloppy press of their lips. she’s pulsing around him so tightly that it’s almost overwhelming, and he makes a mess out of her -- out of his own outfit, too, which he’s mostly still wearing, the hastily pulled away fabric unfortunately not off enough to be spared.

the comedown is quiet. cadence nuzzles her face into his neck and he rubs her back, stroking his fingers through her hair. 

she curls up into his lap and he wraps his arms around her and they stay like that until it’s too uncomfortable, but...

by the time they emerge from the shower and get dressed to collect their forgotten food delivery, their burgers and fries are completely cold, the cheese congealed and the buns soggy. they eat standing up in the living room, staring at each other, and though his fries are like cardboard and his milkshake is melted and soupy, it’s still, easily, the best meal he’s ever eaten, if only for the way cadence smiles bashfully at him from behind her own paper straw.

[talkfastromance4]

What a Feeling (c.h)

Yes, the title is a one direction song, they’re my boys for lyfe. But yeah. Found this in a document and I forgot how much I liked this so here we are lol. The italics are being told from a different point in time of their relationship

Warnings: sexual tendencies because why wouldn’t there be lol

Word count: 4,868

Masterlist

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Calum rolls over under the crisp white sheets of the hotel room, his arm reaching across to feel her skin but he’s met with vacant warmth. He slides up on his hands looking around the room until he finds you leaning on the black metal railing of the balcony. The moonlight pours in flooding her in its cool shine. 

Calum admires her from his spot in the bed, the way her ankles are crossed and how cute her butt looks peeking out from under her light purple nightgown. Her  hair falls beautifully down her back.

She went out shopping earlier with his sister while he was doing sound check with the guys, and when he got back he found a small white bag sitting on the edge of their bed. Y/N’s in the bathroom applying her makeup.

“Did you buy me something?” He called to her stepping closer to the bed. He hates when she spends money on him, she gives him enough just by loving him.

“Yeah, just something small!” she hollered back.

Curious, he plucked out the white tissue paper letting it flutter to the bed. He sees some sort of purple fabric lying at the bottom of the bag and he pulled it out to see a small satin nightgown. He held the straps between his fingers, his throat goes dry imagining her wearing this for him and only him.

“What do you think?” she asked behind him.

He spins on the spot to see her leaning against the wall, her hand on her dress covered hip, a grin on her face.

“I don’t think this is my size,” he wiggled the small ensemble in front of him causing her to giggle which was his goal in the first place.

“Guess I’ll have to wear it then, huh?” she smirked then turns back into the bathroom.

“Can you show me a little preview?” he tossed the gown onto the bed and met her in the bathroom while she’s putting her makeup away.

“You’ll see it after the show, bud,” she chuckled looking at him through the mirror.

“That’s another six hours from now!” he pouted

“Aww, poor baby,” she turned around pinching his cheek.

He pulled her to him by her waist, her hands rested on his chest looking up at him.

“You just love driving me crazy, don’t you woman?” he kissed her lips before she could retort something back.

Calum pushes himself off the bed, not even bothering to put on his boxers, and moves behindY/N. He places his arms on either side of her so he’s clutching the railing, trapping her between his arms and he drops a kiss to her shoulder. It’s cool in the Parisian air, she presses against him instantly.

“Hey,” she greets softly.

“Hi pretty girl,” he mumbles on her skin trailing his lips across her shoulder and into the curve of her neck. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“The moon is so bright it woke me up,” she sighs. “And I needed to cool down.” Her fingers trace up and down his arm, it sends shivers up his neck. “I love Paris,” she sighs.

“I love you,” he murmurs in her ear. He brushes her hair away from her neck so he can still trace his lips on her skin. She’s so soft.

“I love you, too,” she hums.

“You’re thinking about something else, aren’t you?” he asks freezing his lips on her skin.

“How’d you know?”

“Cause I know you. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just wish we could do this in public,” she sighs leaning into his chest, his arms wrap around her instinctively.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

He hates keeping their relationship in the dark, not being able to hold her hand or kiss her cheek and keeping a good enough distance between them was exhausting. When Ashton went public with Ruby and Calum saw all the backlash they both got, he didn’t want to put Y/N through that. He knows she’s tough but beneath that exterior he knows it would crush her that his fans were upset he was in a relationship.

Yes, they wanted him to be happy but with them being the reason. Forget that he was known for not believing in love in the first place, he thought his fans should be happy that he’s found someone who makes his heart soar and makes him feel things he’s never felt with anyone else.

Ashton and Ruby pulled through, she’s fiery that  way, but it did cause some arguments between them. Calum didn’t want that to happen to him and  Y/N. They’d been together for nearly eight months now, the best eight months of his life, and it was nice just having those closest to them in their circle knowing of their love for one another.

But. 

He knew she was getting tired of hiding it. If she’s out with them while exploring the city they’re in and fans come up for photos and autographs, she makes sure to disappear. She doesn’t want to be in photographs because she knows how the fans can fabricate false stories just from one photo.

“It is what it is,” she shrugs.

Calum’s heart pulls at her words, he knows she’s saying that for his benefit and that’s what makes it worse.

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Y/N. You know that, right?”

She twists in his arms so her back is on the railing. Her fingers smooth his furrowed brows and strokes his cheek, feeling his prickly stubble beneath the pads of her fingers.

“I know, and same goes for me, Cal. There’s been no one like you, and there never will be.”

“You’re the love of my life, sweetheart,” he declares.

Y’N’s eyes move from his lips to his eyes, they widen at his proclamation and she gasps softly. She smiles widely, tugging at his short blond hairs to pull his mouth down to hers for a sweet kiss. His arms wrap around her more tightly, he parts her lips and slips his tongue into her mouth. She moans into him, their tongues massaging together. They break apart panting, she tugs on his hair once more.

“Come back to bed?” he asks quietly and she nods.

Calum lifts her effortlessly in his arms walking backwards until he falls onto the bed. He scoots to the headboard pulling her with him so she’s straddling his lap. Her hands leave his hair for a moment to the bottom of her nightgown but he stops her by kissing over the swell of her breast.

“Keep it on, baby.”

He slips his hand between her legs rubbing his finger between her folds, feeling her slick already for him. He smiles as she grinds onto him slightly. She squeezes his shoulders, he continues to tease her and he nips at her skin.

“Want you to ride me, baby,” he breathes.

“Mhm,” she hums rising her hips up.

He lines himself up with her entrance, rubbing his cock between her folds using her wetness to lube him up. She rocks her hips against his tip, she’s already aching for him and he fucking loves it. He pushes into her, she adjusts herself on  before sliding all the way down his length. They both groan at the sensation of him finally filling her up. She bites the tip of his nose hissing as she rolls her hips.

Calum bunches the fabric of her nightgown, his hands splaying on her stomach and under her breasts as he helps her move on top of him. He leans forward and she moans as the angle of him fucking her changes slightly. She lifts herself up and down while continuing to rock her hips against his.

“Good girl,” he praises, “you feel so good . . . you’re so good at riding me, baby,” he pants.

Her arms tighten around his neck and she rises higher off him, he bucks his hips upwards to meet her and she lets out a high pitched moan between her labored breaths. She moves faster, fingers tugging at the roots of his hair and he knows she’s close. Her movements become jerky. He tightens his hold on her and kisses her neck, biting and sucking on the skin.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? Cum on me, you’re doing so good,” he tells her knowing his words will get her there faster.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she moans jerking herself on him faster, faster until he feels her clench around him.

He picks up where she falters, thrusting into her quickly as she experiences her orgasm. Her body clenches as the high dissipates then gives him a sloppy kiss. Their teeth clash because he’s still fucking into her, loving her body on top of his, loving her moans in his ear, loving her.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he praises again moving his hands to her lower back. 

The silky fabric billows around her and onto his hands as he guides her against him again. He kisses between her cleavage, making a point to leave a mark between her breasts.

She moans relentlessly, her mouth on his forehead. She tastes the saltiness from his sweat and Calum is still sucking on her breast as she comes again on top of him.

“Feels so good,” she pants dropping her head onto his shoulder.

Calum feels her bite into his neck and he moans against her, he fucks her hard and fast while she continues to mark up his skin. She knows the perfect spot and soon he’s coming into her. He’s moaning and grunting, her own mewls mix in with his sounds and it’s a symphony of salacious sounds. He jerks against her until his orgasm cools down but they remain connected.

Kisses are pressed here and there, anywhere they can make contact with murmured ‘I love you’s’ mixed in. Calum falls back against the headboard, his hair clings to his forehead due to the sweat and he admires her. He loves her like this, skin flushed and her legs weak from him. He tucks loose strands from her face behind her hair before stroking her cheek.

†††††

Roy and Calum were having a small get together at their place. Calum and the boys needed a bit of a breather from working on the album, the chords and riffs of the last three songs they were working on mushed together in his brain. He needed a small break.

It was a pretty chill party with only their closest friends when Calum realized he left his pack of cigarettes in the house so he left the patio to retrieve them. Once inside, he heard softy baby talk and the small jingle of Duke’s collar. He turns the corner leading into the living room and sees Y/N crouched down on the floor scratching Duke’s belly.

“Who’s such a good boy? Hm, are you a good boy, Duke? Yes you are, you’re a very good boy,” she praises and Calum can see his dog’s tail thumping on the floor excitedly.

“You’re such a ladies man, Duke,” Calum chuckles causing Y/N to whip around quickly.

She smiles at him and Calum takes her in quickly. He’s only hung out with Y/N a few times, she’s friends with Ruby, and he’s liked her from the start. She’s funny and smart and is always eager to jump in conversation about anything. She’s got on a floral tank top with black leggings and white converse, so simple yet Calum really liked the look.

“Sorry, I’m a sucker for cute dogs,” she chuckles rising from the floor. Duke flips over onto his stubby little legs bouncing up to her.

“I think he’s a sucker for you, too,” Calum grins and Holly picks him up easily. He licks her face and it makes her giggle. “Why aren’t you out back for the party?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Hood,” she kisses Duke’s nose.

“I asked first,” he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Used the bathroom then this handsome little guy distracted me. Right? Yes you did!” her eyes are bright with excitement when she looks at Duke then glances back at Calum. “Your turn.”

“Forgot my pack inside, came to get them,” he strides to the counter where he left them picking them up. When he turns around, Holly’s making a face. “What’s with the grimace?”

“Hm? I’m not grimacing,” she shakes her head still cuddling with Duke.

“Yes you are,” he laughs. “I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

“I just think smoking is gross, that’s all,” she shrugs making a point not to lock eyes with Calum. “It takes off five years of your life, makes your fingers gross, you can get cancer, your teeth rot . . . all bad things.”

Calum lets out a low whistle. “You didn’t hold back, did ya?”

“Sorry,” she shrugs but she sounds anything but sorry. “And,” she heaves a big sigh letting Duke back on the floor. She places her hands on her hips, “it’s no fun kissing an ashtray.”

“Is that you saying you want to kiss me?” he smiles cocking his head to the side watching her walk backwards to the patio door.

“Maybe,” she shrugs then nods to the pack in his hand, “but not if that was on your lips.” She flashes him a smile then disappears outside leaving Calum staring after her in amusement.

The few times they’ve hung out wasn’t anything special. They got along fine but never had she flirted with him before, nor hinted at being attracted to him. He taps his pack against his palm then tosses it back on the counter before heading back out. Y/N smile at his empty hands and continues talking to Ruby and Sierra.

It was nearing one a.m when Roy finally went to bed and it was just Calum and Y/N by the fire. The soothing yet tantalizing sound of Cigarettes after Sex plays softly in the background and Y/N is moving along with the music. Her eyes are closed, her mouth moving along with the lyrics and Calum is entranced.

The warm golden glow on her skin makes her look soft and warm and he’s watching her lips move wondering just what they’d feel like on his own.

“I can feel you staring,” she says.

Calum blinks then scratches the back of his head in embarrassment of being caught. When he looks up at her again, she’s smiling and rises from her spot on the chair and joins him on the bench.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sitting up a little straighter, he adjusts his arm on the back of the bench so he’s not touching her but she moves back so she is.

“Sorry about before,” she sighs rolling her head in his direction. “I was a bit harsh and I’m in no position to tell you what to do. We’re  barely friends.”

“You think we aren’t friends?” he furrows his brows at her.

She shrugs. “We’ve only hung out a few times. I feel like I’m imposing cause Ruby always tags me along. I dunno. I guess we’re very close acquaintances.”

“Nah, you’re more than that,” he shakes his head leaning a bit closer to her. “The guys tell me all the time how my smoking is bad, but they never said girls don’t like kissing a smoker. Makes me rethink my life choices.”

“Glad the idea of kissing girls might save your life,” she chortles resting her arm on top of his. His fingers brush against her back, he feels her smooth skin when she moves.

“I’ve only got one in mind,” he admits and her stomach does a backflip.

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

“Her best friend is dating my best mate, she was inside playing with my dog instead of being out with the party and told me straight up she thinks smoking is gross.”

“Hmm, she sounds pretty fuckin’ awesome,” she smiles.

“She is,” he nods inching closer. The space between them minimizes and her mouth opens slightly, eyes darting between his lips and his eyes. “She’s real pretty, too.”

“Ha—“

His lips are on hers and she sighs against his plump lips, they’re just as soft as she imagined they would be. It’s an innocent kiss, mouths molding together slowly then he pulls away.

“I don’t taste like an ashtray, do I?” he mumbles rubbing his nose against hers.

“No,” she whispers pressing her hand to his cheek, “but I don’t like the taste of beer too much.”

“Shut up,” he laughs and kisses her again before she can retort a smart mouth comment back.

  †††††

“Hey, your head’s in the clouds,” Holly’s voice pulls Calum from his memory of their first kiss. She strokes her fingers over the back of his hand lightly. 

They’re out for dinner with the rest of the group and though they’re sitting next to each other, the distance is much too far for either of their liking.

“Sorry, got lost in a memory,” he smiles softly. 

The chatter of their friends drone out their side conversation and all too soon, her touch is gone from his skin. He reaches over taking her fingers in his dropping them between the spaces of their chairs. She stares at him in shock but doesn’t pull away.

“What memory?” her thumb rubs circles over his knuckles.

“Our first kiss.” He loves seeing her cheeks flush, she remembers it all too well.

“That was a good night,” she smiles. “My plan of getting you to stop smoking worked.”

He raises his eyebrows in amusement at her teasing. “It was all a ploy, huh? You didn’t really want to kiss me, did you?”

“I did! I’m just kidding,” she snickers nudging his shoulder playfully.

“I’m hurt, babe,” he places his hand over his chest in mock pain, he gives her the most pitiful look he can muster. “Truly hurt.”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you, baby,” she squeezes his fingers.

Their small, intimate moment is broken by Luke who brings them back into conversation, but their fingers remained linked under the table.

 †††††

When they are out and about walking through the streets, some fans cross the road asking for pictures. Before the fans stopped them, Calum was walking behind Y/N. He always liked to keep her in his sight when they’re out in public to make sure she’s safe. He watches her make herself invisible when the fans arrive, Calum’s heart deflates at that but he does his best to smile and be friendly to the fans.

He’d keep glancing at her throughout the interaction until finally the fans dispersed and their group continued on their way to the Museé de l’Orangerie. Y/N was practically bouncing out of her shoes as they walked throughout the exhibit and Calum bumped into her when they came to the Water Lilies room.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I just can’t believe I’m going to see my favorite painter’s work,” she shakes her head.

With a quick check of their surroundings, Calum leans forward to kiss her cheek, she’s too in shock to reprimand him.

“Let’s head in then, yeah?” he laces his fingers with hers again pulling her with him into the oval room.

She gasps softly taking it all in, she moves to one wall where the lilies are more prominent, her fingers slipping out of his grasp. Calum watches her fondly as she steps closer and closer until her hand lifts to the canvas but she doesn’t touch it.

“Look at his brush strokes, this is amazing. He actually touched this, he painted this,” she shakes her head, her voice wavering. 

A long time ago she’d mentioned that Claude Monet was her favorite painter and when Calum found out the band would be in France for a week he bought her a plane ticket to join them.

Calum stays in the center of the room turning as she continues walking around, he could watch her marvel at this painting for hours. She makes comments every now and then, gasping here and there at some detail she notices and Calum is loving every minute of it.

He can’t take it anymore and he crosses the space between them. He spins her around by her waist, one hand holding her face and he kisses her right in the middle of one of the most famous artworks. She kisses him back then remembers they aren’t in the safety of their hotel room and regrettably pulls away.

“Calum, people could see,” she whispers.

“I don’t care,” he strokes her cheek. “Seeing you in here has made me fall even more in love with you.”

She smiles looking down then presses her forehead against his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist and he pulls her even closer. He never really understood art, but now he finally gets what a masterpiece is.

He’s in love with one.

†††††

Calum and Roy are having another party at their house, it’s been a few months since Calum and Y/N have been going out. Their friends caught on real quick but they didn’t mind because they were in their own little bubble of warmth and happiness.

When Y/N arrives at their house, she spots Calum sitting in one of the patio chairs, his back is to her. She sneaks up behind him wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders resting her cheek against his before attacking him in soft kisses. She loved kissing his cheeks.

“Hi pretty girl,” he chuckles trying to pull away from her attacks but he loves it and she knows it. He yanks her hands from his chest swinging her around from behind and pulls her onto his lap.

“Hi,” she says shyly. She adjusts herself on his lap, her right hand moves to his hair and begins to play with it immediately. She kisses his forehead then acknowledges the rest of the group. “Hey everyone.”

“So you can see us, then,” Ashton giggles and Ruby smacks his arm rolling her eyes.

“They’re in love, be quiet,” Ruby reprimands.

“I’m in love, too but I’m aware of my surroundings.”

“Thanks, babe,” Ruby sighs and Calum laughs.

“Dug yourself in that one, mate,” he chuckles leaning back against the chair. 

His left arm braces Y/N ’s back while his right rubs the top of her thighs as she continues to play with his hair. It’s become an unspoken decision that they somehow are always in constant contact.

“I didn’t mean—no! Babe, you know I’d take you here and now but I don’t think everyone would—“

“All right, enough,” Ruby giggles covering Ashton’s mouth as everyone laughs awkwardly. “I know what you meant, Cal and Y/N are in the puppy love phase, that’s all.”

“We might be in this phase for a while,” Y/N grins, Calum pinches her side in silent agreement.

“Be happy you don’t have to hear it,” Roy mutters.

“Is she loud or is Cal?” Luke laughs hysterically.

“She is.”

“Oh my God, please stop!” Y/N shouts hiding her face in Calum’s neck.

His laughter shakes her body and he rubs her back gently. “He’s just jealous, babe. None of his girls make a peep.”

“Shut the fuck up, yes they do!” Roy defends.

“I don’t hear ‘em,” Calum laughs and Holly removes her face from the cover of Calum’s neck. He kisses her cheek.

“Because they’re respectful of my roommate.”

“Sure, that’s it,” Cal grins.

“So Y/N ,” Michael interjects, “how loud are you?”

†††††

Calum was using all his best moves on Y/N, he knew what she liked, where her most sensitive spots were and he knew exactly how to get her pretty moans to be present. But each time he used his tongue a certain way, she’d make a small squeak then stop herself.

 He hasn’t seen Y/N in three months because he’s been doing photoshoots and promos and they’ve finally got some alone time in his hotel room.

He removes his mouth from between her legs after she came (silently) and crawls up the length of her body so he was hovering over her. She’s breathing heavily, her eyes glazed over from her orgasm.

“Why are you being so quiet?” he asks suddenly concerned. Was he not succeeding in making her feel good? He’s thought of nothing but her moans late at night when he’d think about her and now that he’s finally with her, nothing. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“What? No, you’re amazing,” she shakes her head.

“You’re not making noise,” he states and she bites her lip.

“I don’t want the guys to make fun of me,” she admits quietly looking down.

He softens at that then chuckles until he collapses on top of her laughing into her warm neck.

“It’s not funny!” she exclaims.

“Babe, honestly they could care less. I just know for a fact that they’ve never made a girl sound like you do, hell, I’ve never been with anyone who moans loud as you.”

“Oh great,” she rolls her eyes before covering them with her hand.

“Hey,” he tugs her hand away easily placing it above her head. He stares into her eyes. “I fucking love how loud you are, babe. It’s such a turn on and it helps me know I’m pleasing you.”

“Really?” she reaches her free hand to cup his cheek and tug away his unruly hair that clung to his forehead.

“Yes really,” he nudges her legs wider apart and plunges into her. He can’t help but smirk when her back arches high off the bed, her eyes roll back as he fills her up. He nips and sucks loudly on her breast that was shoved into his face. She squeaks quietly and he has an idea.

He takes his other hand removing hers from his hair to place it at the top of her head like the other one. He holds her wrists tightly, releases her nipple with a loud pop and nearly pulls all the way out of her before plunging back into her roughly. He does the same action twice more, her breath hitching each time but still she doesn’t make a peep.

Calum growls and picks up his pace just the way she likes it. 

“Let me hear how I’m making you feel,” he commands. “Moan for me, baby. You like when I hold your wrists, hm?”

Just like that, a high pitched moan slips from her lips and it’s music to Calum’s ears. He pounds into her faster, her moans tumble in different ranges and soon she’s panting out ‘yes!’ repetitively.

“That’s my girl,” he praises watching her unfold beneath him. “Love hearing you. Can you scream my name, pretty one? Hm? Do I need to fuck you faster?” she nods and he tightens his hold on her wrists slightly. “Use your words.”

“Faster, faster,” she begs angling herself for him to do just that. Her legs wrap around his waist and Calum fucks into her at rapid speed and soon she’s screaming and mewling.

He feels her clench around him but he keeps moving until he feels her body tense. Even then, he ruts his hips against her and gives her neck wet kisses.

“That’s my good girl,” he groans slowing his hips down slightly. “You’re so sexy when you moan.”

“Cal,” she exhales rolling her hips against his.

“Hm?” he nibbles on her ear.

“You know what makes me really loud?”

He pulls his lips from her skin to look at her, a dazed smile on her face and he knows exactly what she’s talking about. He pulls out of her tapping the side of her knee. “Turn around,” he says.

He loves how she gathers herself before flipping over onto her stomach, face into the pillows with her ass in the air. Fuck, he loved this position as much as she did. He kneads into her ass then laps up her pussy with his mouth efficiently before grabbing hold of her hips.

He fucks her fast and with precision. Moans and whimpers echo about the room, she reaches her hand behind her back and Calum grabs onto it locking their fingers together. 

She lets out a cry as she clenches around him, bouncing her ass against him. Her preening and constant orgasms makes his approach faster and faster. Before he can pull out he’s coming inside her hissing a string of curse words

With their bodies spent and minds reeling, he collapses next to her and she blinks at him slowly. Pure bliss shines through her eyes and he’s never seen that look on her before. 

“All right?” he asks licking his lips nervously and touches her face. 

“Give me . . . a minute,” she pants then exhales a deep yet satisfied sigh.

“We get it, she’s loud! Can we fucking sleep now?” Michael shouts from outside their door pounding on it.

They both erupt in laughter.

“What a feeling to be a king beside you,” Calum teases and her eyes dance.

_____________________

Taglist: @galcalirwin​ @cashtonasff5sos​

[jbbarnesnnoble]

You’re Beautiful

Summary:  You’ve struggled with PCOS and the resulting hirsutism since puberty. It’s one of your biggest insecurities. After being taunted in the gym, Bucky shows you just how beautiful he thinks you are. 

Features: Reader with PCOS and hirusuitism; Pure smut; some bullying toward Reader

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Notes: Reader has hair long enough to hide her face behind (so at least shoulder length) and a medical condition. This came about after a discussion in the TCC discord re: PCOS. This one is for all y’all out there with PCOS, especially those who struggle with hirsutism (basically means you grow hair where cisgender women typically don’t) 

Word Count: 1546

Your alarm started blaring at 6, a full two hours before you had to report for training. Bucky heard it every morning. You’d take a shower, which confused him. If you were going to get sweaty, why shower beforehand? He knew how long you took in the shower, the wall of your bathroom shared with his. 25 minutes, unless you were washing your hair. It always baffled him how you could take so long in the shower when you only needed to wash up. He didn’t question you on it though. He had a feeling that would end with a punch to the face. 

You never wore your hair up. If you did, strands of it framed your face, almost as if you were hiding behind it. He couldn’t understand why you would want to hide. You were beautiful. He could spend hours just looking at you. He cringed at how creepy that thought sounded. You also wore makeup, every day. There was nothing wrong with it, but some days he’d hear you complaining to Natasha about how much of a chore it was. He wondered why you wore it if it was such a bother. 

You had your hair pulled back in the gym for once that morning. You were partnered with him, something that wasn’t an unusual occurrence. If he didn’t know any better, he’d stay Steve did it intentionally, knowing that he had feelings for you. You had a way of making him feel normal. Other agents looked at him with fear or apprehension, but not you. It was while you were grabbing water that he heard it. 

“You’d think with Stark’s money supporting her she’d get laser,” one of the women said, laughing. 

“I bet Barnes works out with her out of pity. No way a man like him would be with her, not with that beard she has,” another said, glancing at you. Your shoulders sagged. He frowned.  

“I wouldn’t date her. I’m not into women with facial hair. No thanks. If I wanted that, I’d date a guy,” a third said. Bucky clenched and unclenched his fist, looking away from them and toward you. You took a shaky breath and excused yourself, saying something about cramps. Bucky frowned as you fled the gym. He shook his head at the group of women.

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped. 

“What?” the blonde asked. 

“Saying that about her. I’d be lucky if she said yes to a date with me. Do you get some sort of twisted enjoyment out of tormenting people?” he asked. Natasha walked over from where she had been training with Wanda. Wanda, who had figured out what was happening rather quickly.

“Ladies, looks like you’re training with Wanda and me today,” Natasha said, ending whatever was about to start. Bucky shot her a look, but the gleam in her eye told him they weren’t going to be happy by the end. 

“Oh my gosh. Agent Romanoff, you’re serious?” the shorter of the women asked, excited at the prospect of training with Black Widow.

“Yes. Sergeant Barnes, I think you have a meeting,” Natasha said. Bucky nodded.

“Thank you, Ta--Agent Romanoff,” Bucky said before heading out of the gym and straight for your room. He could hear the music thumping faintly from your room. Stark had paid for thick walls, but they weren’t soundproof. He didn’t have to knock. You’d given him access long ago. You were huddled under your covers, body shaking with sobs. He sat down, pulling you toward him.

“Leave me alone, Barnes,” you said. 

“Nope. Not happening, Doll. Do you let me sit and wallow on bad days?” he asked.

“Of course not,” you scoffed. 

“Then why would I let you? Those women...they’re jealous,” he said. You snorted.

“Jealous of the sideshow freak? Come see the bearded lady. I would’ve fit right in with a circus,” you said. 

“Doll, am I a freak?” he asked. You looked at him.

“Of course not. Jesus, Buck, you’re one of the most attractive men I’ve ever…,” you trailed off, your cheeks heating with embarrassment. He chuckled.

“Even with my metal arm? My scars? My past?” he asked, as he ran a hand through your hair. 

“Even then. What does that have to do with me, Buck?” you questioned.

“Because, doll. I don’t care if you can grow a beard. You could go three months without shaving and I’d still think you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And you know why? Because you’re kind. You see people for who they are, not what they look like, not what they’ve done. Don’t get me wrong, you’re physically stunning too, but, that’s not what matters to me,” he said. 

“Right. Me. Attractive. The one with PCOS. The one who’s body doesn’t work right. Who can grow a goddamn beard because her hormones are out of whack,” you said. He let out a frustrated growl. 

“You have no idea. Your eyes, your adorable nose, your incredible smile, your body. Doll, I’d worship at the altar that is you every day if you’d let me,” he said. You couldn’t help the surge of arousal that shot through you. 

“Buck,” you said before he cut you off, capturing your lips with his. You were always self-conscious when it came to kissing. Afraid of the stubble, of five o’clock shadow. But thoughts of that flew out the window as he kissed you. He tugged on the hem of your shirt, pulling away from you only to pull it off along with the sports bra you had worn. 

You felt a wave of self-consciousness roll over you, questioning if you’d removed all the unsightly hairs that morning in the shower, before Bucky distracted you by kissed down your neck, finding a sensitive spot that caused you to let out a quiet moan as he sucked. You knew there would be a hickey there by the time he was done. He moved down your chest, finding your breasts. One hand came up to cup your right breast while his mouth kissed around your left. You arched into his touch as his tongue swirled around your nipple. You had never been one for having your breasts teased and played with. No, you had always insisted on getting down to it, lights off. But Bucky refused to let your insecurities win out, wanting to prove what he’d said. 

As he made his way down, his hand continued to play with your breast, pinching your nipple now and then before massaging you. As he reached your mound, he brought his hand down, light pushing your legs apart. You obliged. He kissed up one thigh and down the other. He was so close to where you wanted him, where you needed him. 

“Bucky please,” you whined. 

“Please what doll?” he asked. 

“Touch me, please,” you begged. He looked up at you with a smirk, settling more comfortably between your thighs. A finger trailed from your clit down to your opening, collecting wetness as it went. He was slow to press his finger in, and you moaned when he did. It still wasn’t enough. As he teased your opening, his tongue traced up to your clit, swirling around the sensitive nerves but never touching it. He added a second finger, hooking the two as they moved. Your hips bucked up as he made contact with your g-spot. You’d never had a partner do that before, be so attentive. 

“Bucky,” you said, chanting his name over and over like a prayer. He pulled you over the edge, not letting up until your walls ceased spasming around his fingers. You watched as he brought them to his mouth, licking your juices from them, before palming his hard cock. You had been so lost in it all, you missed when he had stripped down. You took in his impressive length. While he wasn’t monstrously huge, he was bigger than anyone you’d ever been with, in both length and width. 

“I’ll go slow,” he murmured before capturing your lips in another kiss. It had been so long since you’d been with anyone. He moved slow as he pressed into you. You moaned at the stretch. Once he was fully seated inside you, he withdrew, setting a slow steady pace, hitting just the right angle to make you cry out as he moved. You could swear you were going to cum without him even touching your clit, something you hadn’t even thought was possible for you to do.

“Bucky, please, more,” you cried out. He slammed into you harder, picking up the pace, keeping you close. It wasn’t long before he drove you over the edge for a second time, before following behind you. He rolled over, laying you on top of him after pulling out, both of you breathless. 

“That was...incredible,” you said. He kissed you once more.

“I meant it. I know this is out of order but...would you go on a date with me?” he asked. You giggled before nodding.

“I’d like that. But just so you know, Sarge. I don’t put out on the first date,” you teased, sending him into another round of laughter. You couldn’t bring yourself to dwell on that morning, not anymore. 

[musette22]

Hey! For the future prompts: Bucky liking more feminine thing or liking to wear makeup maybe? And Steve being a supportive and loving boyfriend to him

Illuminations On A Rainy Day

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: Mostly fluff but eventual smut. Since the smut is explicit, 18+ only please! Addition warnings for slight feminization and makeup use.

A/N: This is my first time writing anything like this, so I hope it’s what you had in mind, anon! I loved writing it ❤️

Summary:

Bucky bites his bottom lip, trying to find the right words to explain this to Steve but coming up short. “Sometimes I just like to feel – pretty. You know?”

Steve looks very serious when he says, “You look plenty pretty to me, Buck. Always have.”

And Bucky knows he means it. He can see it in Steve’s eyes every time he looks at him.

“I know,” he says softly. “But I just like making myself look nice. There’s something about the process, the pampering, the grooming… I can’t really explain it, I just know it makes me feel… good. About myself.”

“Okay,” Steve nods. “That’s great, Buck. You should do whatever makes you feel good.”

Read on AO3

Bucky Barnes isn’t vain, exactly. He just enjoys taking care of his appearance, that’s all. Back in the thirties, that meant making sure his work shirts were ironed, his shoes were shining, and his hair was slicked back with pomade. Today, in 2016, his hair is too long to slick back, but that’s okay. He’s not the same Bucky anymore, anyway.

Of course, for a long time after escaping Hydra’s clutches and returning to Steve; his best friend and the absolute love of his life, Bucky didn’t take care of himself at all, let alone of his appearance. During the long and arduous process of recovery, which most likely is never going to be fully completed, Steve even had to remind Bucky to eat and take showers. To his credit, he never once grumbled about it. In fact, over the past two years, Steve displayed levels of patience Bucky never would’ve dreamed he was capable of, based on the scattered memories he had of the perpetually sickly and prickly firecracker he lived with back in the thirties.

But with time, lots of therapy and a little help from Wanda, Bucky had slowly started to become more aware of himself again. Started to realize (even if he didn’t always believe it quite yet) that what had happened wasn’t his fault, and that he was worthy of the second chance he was given. So, eventually, he started treating it as one, too. He began to do the things he’d always wanted to when he was a young man growing up in the Depression and times of war, but hadn’t been able to due to lack of funds or rigid, intolerant social norms. The most important of those things, of course, was openly being with Steve. This entailed announcing to the team and eventually the rest of the world that they were together, holding hands when they go for a coffee run, and giving Steve a good luck kiss before missions.  

In addition, Bucky also got a cat, bought himself a heated blanket even though he didn’t really need it in the Tower where the heat was always perfectly regulated, and started indulging in frequent movie marathons from the comfort of his own couch.

More importantly, Bucky also slowly but surely began to enjoy taking long showers and baths again. He used fragrant bath salts and shower oils and bought specialist products to make his shoulder-length hair soft and shiny, with just the right amount of volume. If he shaves, he likes to use a nice aftershave after, but more often than not he chooses to keep a short beard – a designer stubble, as Nat calls it. He couldn’t have a beard back in the day, but he’s found he likes the way it looks on him (just as he likes the way his stubble makes Steve’s pale skin look after Bucky’s been loving on him for a little too long).

About once a month, Bucky, Nat and Wanda treat themselves to a spa day. The three of them have struck up a friendship which, based on the similarities in their backgrounds and history, was more or less inevitable. Spa days are heaven, since Bucky doesn’t only like to take care of himself, but also very much enjoys being taken care of. After a day of being pampered senseless in the spa, he returns home to Steve all loose and relaxed, smelling like massage oils and with silky soft skin, which Steve appreciates possibly even more than Bucky does.

Today was a spa day. The three of them have just gotten dressed and are getting ready to head home. Wanda sits down in front of the dressing room mirror to put on her makeup, and Bucky, towelling dry his hair before putting in some argan oil, watches her as she re-applies her smoky eye.

After a minute or two, their eyes catch in the mirror.

“Would you like to try?” Wanda asks.

Bucky blinks. “Try?”

Wanda shakes the little tube of eyeliner at him by way of explanation.

“Oh,” he breathes, eyes widening.

Would he like to try some makeup? He’s never really thought about it before, but now that Wanda’s offering, he finds that he’s… not unamenable to the idea. Still, part of him wonders if wearing black eye makeup will make him look too much like the Soldier, decked out in war paint. He’s about to decline the offer when Natasha, who as always seems to be able to read Bucky’s mind, speaks up.

“You’re not him anymore, Bucky.”

Bucky gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment. “I know,” he says finally.

“You’ve made incredible progress. A bit of eyeliner isn’t going to undo that.”

“I know,” he repeats. He straightens his shoulders. “Alright, let me try it.”

Wanda gives him a soft smile, turning towards him as he settles on the chair next to her. “Okay,” she says. “Sit still, please.”

Unconsciously, Bucky holds his breath as Wanda fusses over him. It doesn’t take as long as he imagined, and when she tells him she’s all done, he slowly, with no small amount of apprehension, turns towards the mirror.

That’s – not bad at all.

Bucky leans a little closer, turning his head this way and that, inspecting his reflection from different angles. Finally, he decides that he likes it. A lot. The dark outline makes the slate blue of his eyes pop, makes his eyes somehow look bigger. He smiles at Wanda.

“It looks nice,” she says, brushing a lock of hair off his face. “Should we try mascara, too?”

Emboldened by the unexpected success, Bucky replies, “Sure. Why not.”

It’s hard to keep your eyes open while someone is more or less poking at them with a brush, as Bucky finds out, but fortunately Wanda is quick and efficient and manages to apply the mascara with minimal casualties. When Bucky looks in the mirror next, he’s actually shocked by how long is eyelashes are. Who’d have known?

“I look –” Bucky starts.

“Yes?” Wanda asks, an amused glint in her eye.

“…pretty?”

“You do. Very pretty.”

Nat stands up then, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Alright, guys. I’m meeting Fury in forty minutes. Let’s get going.”

“Like this?” Bucky splutters. “Shouldn’t I take it off first?”

Natasha shrugs, unconcerned. “You could, if you want. Do you?”

Bucky swallows, considers the question. He darts a glance in the mirror again, fascinated by his reflection. He still looks like himself, only nicer.

“No,” he says finally. “I don’t.”

“Great. Let’s go then.”

***

Despite his earlier burst of confidence, Bucky feels himself growing nervous as soon as he steps through the door of their apartment. The light in the living room is on, indicating that Steve is home. For a moment, Bucky contemplates making a dash for the bathroom so he can scrub off the makeup before facing Steve, but then he shakes himself. He’s faced hairier situations than these (boy, has he ever) and besides, Steve would never laugh in his face. At worst, he’ll be a little confused, and if he doesn’t seem to like it then Bucky will just save the makeup stuff for the days he hangs out with the girls. No big deal.

He takes a deep, bracing breath, and steps into the living room.

Steve is stretched out on the couch, sketchpad in his lap, dressed in a pair of loose, grey sweats and a dark blue hoodie. He looks up when Bucky walks in.

“Hey, Buck,” he says, already smiling. “How was the spa?”

Bucky doesn’t reply, just stops at the end of the couch, nervously waiting for Steve’s reaction.

After a few moments of silence, a little frown forms between Steve’s eyebrows, and Bucky holds his breath.

“What is…” Steve mutters, looking at him intently, and then his eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Hi,” Bucky says finally, fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt. His voice comes out a little weaker than he’d like. He clears his throat.

Slowly, Steve gets up off the couch. He walks over, just as slowly, and it’s only when he comes to a halt right in front of him that Bucky remembers to breathe.

Lifting his hands, he cradling Bucky’s face between his big palms.

“Oh, Buck,” he says softly, his thumbs caressing Bucky’s cheekbones. “You look…”

“– ridiculous?” Bucky interrupts, the word little more than a whisper.

Steve frowns a little. “I was gonna say nice. You look real nice, baby.”

“Oh.” From one moment to the next, Bucky deflates, his shoulders relaxing as he leans forward, into Steve’s touch. “You really think so?”

“I do,” Steve smiles, with those laughter lines that Bucky loves so much. “You have such pretty eyes, Buck.”

Bucky looks into Steve’s sky blue ones, searching for even the slightest trace of insincerity, of Steve telling him what he wants to hear just because he wants Bucky to be happy, but finds none. There’s just love there, and maybe, definitely, a little bit of adoration.

“Thanks,” Bucky mutters, relieved. He closes his eyes as Steve leans in and kisses him, ever so carefully.

Bucky hums into it, tries to follow Steve’s lips as he pulls away.

Steve just laughs silently. “Come on,” he says. “Sit with me. I missed you today.”

Taking his hand, Bucky lets himself be led towards the giant couch in the middle of the room. Steve lets himself flop back into the cushions, pulling Bucky on top of him. Bucky goes easily, nestling against Steve’s chest.

“Hmm,” Steve hums, burying his nose in Bucky’s hair. “Your hair smells nice.”

Bucky just grunts in reply, rubbing his face into Steve’s pecs like a cat. Steve, attuned has he is to each of Bucky’s gestures and silent commands, takes the hint. He lifts a hand Bucky’s head and starts to gently run his fingers through his hair, separating the silky soft strands and lightly scratching at his scalp. After a few moments of that, Bucky almost starts to purr. It just feels really nice, okay? He loves being petted, always has, and fortunately, Steve loves petting him.

“It’s getting really long, Buck,” Steve says after a while. “I bet you could wear it in one of those hip bun things guys tend to wear these days. Maybe even braid it.”

“You think so?” Bucky mumbles after a second, letting the idea roll around in his head.

“Sure, yeah. It’s past your shoulders now.”

“Can you braid?”

Steve’s hand stills his hair. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Bucky huffs, rolling his eyes even though Steve can’t see him do it. “I don’t see anyone else here, do you?”

“I mean, I can give it a shot,” Steve muses. “How hard can it be, right?”

—

Turns out, it’s pretty damn hard. Steve does his best, and to be fair, what he ends up producing is more or less a braid, but it’s not what Bucky expected.

“I can practice,” Steve says stubbornly, standing behind him in the bathroom while Bucky inspects the damage in the mirror. “I’ve learned how to drive a stolen car in Nazi Germany in an afternoon and mastered several martial arts. I’m sure I can learn how to braid your hair properly.”

Bucky just pulls a face at him in the mirror. “I dunno, honey.”

“Just you wait,” Steve says, sticking out his chin just like when he was a hundred pound asthmatic kid who was told he couldn’t join the army. “I’ll have this down by the end of next week.”

—

Six days and many a pained grunt on Bucky’s part later, Steve does actually manage to weave his hair into a tight and complicated braid that looks, if Bucky may say so himself, pretty damn amazing on him. The two of them spend a good fifteen minutes admiring Bucky’s ‘do in the bathroom mirror, a smaller, handheld mirror that he borrowed from Nat enabling Bucky to see the back of his own head.

“You did it, Stevie,” Bucky says proudly, putting down the mirror on the counter to turn around and wrap his arms around Steve’s neck, leaning in for a kiss. “It looks amazing.”

“Told ya I could do it,” Steve replies, before regretfully adding, “Shame you’re gonna have to take it out again for bed now.”

Bucky bristles. “The hell I am. I’m meeting Wanda and Nat tomorrow morning. They bet me you couldn’t do it, so I have to show them my man can do anything he sets his mind to. And also cash in their loser money.”

Steve snorts. “Can I just remind you that you didn’t think I could do it either?”

“Nonsense,” Bucky replies, giving a curt shake of his head. “I’ve always believed in you.”

“Sure, Buck,” Steve concedes, smiling down at him dopily before leaning in for another kiss. “Whatever you say.”

***

A week or so later, Wanda comes up to Bucky after a briefing with a little bag swinging from her wrist, which she hands to him with a flourish.

“What’s this?” Bucky says, curiously peering into the bag and finding only a small, nondescript box.

“Just a little present,” Wanda says enigmatically. “Open it when you’re home.”

It turns out to be a starter set of eye makeup; a few different mascaras and eyeliners, and a scary-looking contraption that Bucky later finds out is meant to curl his eyelashes. He spends the rest of the afternoon in Steve and his bedroom, trying out the different products. When Steve comes back from training with Thor that night, Bucky eagerly shows off his efforts. Steve duly tells him he looks beautiful, and any doubt Bucky might have about his sincerity disappears when Steve proceeds to kiss him breathless on the couch.

From that moment onward, Bucky’ll put on a little eye makeup on good days, or, perhaps more accurately, on days when he doesn’t actively hate himself.  

The first time he wears eyeliner on a mission (because he’d been having a good day until some idiot with lasers decided to cause trouble down town) Tony and Bruce look at him a little strangely, as if they’re noticing something different about him but can’t quite put their finger on it. When Tony finally catches on, Bucky tenses.

“Are you wearing mascara, Buckinator?” he asks gleefully, and then Bucky has the pleasure of seeing him visibly wither when Nat gives Tony a truly terrifying look that shuts him right up.

After that, no even so much as blinks when Bucky occasionally shows up to kick villainous ass with a neat cat eye.

—

On a dreary afternoon in October, Bucky and Steve are once again stretched out on the couch together, Gone With The Wind playing on their TV set as Bucky dozes against Steve’s shoulder,

“Buck?” Steve says suddenly, keeping his voice low so as not to startle him.

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever, like…” He trails off, letting the unfinished question hang in the air.

“What?” Bucky asks, lifting his head to look at Steve.

There’s a frown on Steve’s forehead; not the one that means he’s upset or worried, but the one that means he’s thinking about something really hard. Bucky lifts a hand to smooth out the lines with the pad of his thumb. “What is it, Steve?”

Steve takes a breath. “Well, I was just wondering… I might be way off, of course, but I just want to make sure.” His frown deepens. “You know I’d give you anything you’d ask for, right?”

“Steve” Bucky sighs. “You’re not making any damn sense. Just come out with it, will ya?”

“Right,” Steve nods. “Of course, yeah. What I mean to tell you is, um, if you ever maybe, like, wanted to wear something a little… different. That would be perfectly fine with me. Just so you know.” He presses his lips together nervously, watching Bucky for his reaction.

Bucky, meanwhile, still doesn’t have a clue what his idiot of a boyfriend is on about.

“Something different?” he asks, puzzled. “Do you… do you not like what I’m wearing?” He looks down at himself, and has to admit that, okay, maybe this stretched out t-shirt and faded blue sweats combination isn’t his biggest fashion success. But to be fair, Steve himself is wearing a very similar outfit, so it’s not like he’s really one to talk.

“No, that’s not –” Steve sputters, “I don’t mean there���s anything wrong with your clothes, baby, I swear. I just meant, if you maybe someday felt like wearing a – a skirt, or a dress or something, that would be totally fine. Of course.”

Oh. So that’s what Steve was trying to get at.

Bucky smirks. “I know it would be,” he says, “but I don’t. Want that.”

“You don’t?” Steve watches him closely. “You sure? You can think about it for a while, if you want. You don’t need to tell me anything right away, I just wanted to get it out there – you know, just in case.”

Bucky gives Steve a small, reassuring smile and squeezes his ankle. “Nah. Dresses and heels are nice and everything, but they don’t seem very comfortable. As you know, I like being comfortable. ‘Sides, I can’t exactly fight baddies in heels, can I?”

Steve snorts. “I don’t supposed that’d be very effective, no.” He pauses for a moment, before adding “Though I’m sure Nat and Maria could do it.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not Nat and Maria,” Bucky huffs. “I’m not a woman, and I don’t want to be one, either. I just…” He bites his bottom lip for a moment, trying to find the right words to explain this to Steve but coming up short. “Sometimes I just like to feel – pretty. You know?”

Steve looks very serious when he says, “You look plenty pretty to me, Buck. Always have.”

And Bucky knows he means it. He can see it in Steve’s eyes every time he looks at him.

“I know,” he says softly. “But I just like making myself look nice, you know? There’s something about the process, the pampering, the grooming… I can’t really explain it, I just know it makes me feel… good. About myself.”

“Okay,” Steve nods decisively. “That’s great, Buck. You should do whatever makes you feel good.”

They’re silent for a moment after that, both of them ruminating on their conversation.

“So,” Bucky starts after a minute or two, “I know I said I’m not a woman and I don’t want to wear women’s clothes…”

“Yes?” Steve prompts him when he doesn’t continue, prodding his thigh with his bare foot.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek, gathering courage. “Well,” he goes on, “say I maybe wanted to try wearing some pretty underwear someday. Would that be – weird?” He shoots Steve a tentative glance, trying to gauge his reaction.

To his relief, Steve doesn’t look shocked or appalled – though maybe his eyes do grow a little bit darker. “Why would that be weird, Buck?” Steve reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair behind Bucky’s ear. “I’m sure you’d look stunning in it.”

Bucky can’t help his pleased little smile as he leans into Steve’s palm. “Okay,” he says, satisfied for now. “Let’s go to bed?”

“Sure, Buck. Whatever you want.”

—

That Wednesday, Bucky and Steve find themselves on the couch once again. Bucky sometimes wonder why they even have other furniture in their living room, because this couch seems to be the only place either of them want to be.

Bucky is watching some spy thriller that he keeps scoffing and rolling his eyes at, because that is not how you do spying, for god’s sake. Meanwhile, Steve is drawing again – drawing Bucky, to be precise. He can feel Steve’s eyes on him constantly but he doesn’t mind because he’s used to it. The gentle scratch of his pencil over the sketchpad only audible when there’s a lull in the explosions, and seriously, no spy worth their salt would let that many things explode; the whole point is to go unnoticed.

When the credits finally start to roll, Bucky sits up, stretching his arms above his head.

Steve puts away his sketchpad, too. “So,” he says.

Bucky turns to him, and finds Steve looking a little hesitant. Bucky cock his head at him questioningly. “What?”

“I sort of… got you a present?”

That makes Bucky perk up. “Really? What is it?”

“I’ll just go get it,” Steve says by way of reply, getting up and heading to their bedroom before returning with a beautifully wrapped, rectangular flat box. It’s glossy black with a red, silky bow tied around it, giving it the appearance of an exceptionally fancy box of chocolates.

“Ooh, chocolates?” Bucky asks eagerly. “And it’s not even Valentine’s Day.”

Steve chuckles and tilts his head as if to say, hmm not quite.

“Not chocolates?” Bucky checks. “Then what is it?”

“Open it.” Steve hands him the box and sits back down on the couch. He wrings his hands nervously as Bucky lightly shakes the box, trying to determine what’s inside.

“Just open it, Buck,” Steve says, fondly rolling his eyes at him.

“Fine, fine.” Placing the box in his lap, Bucky carefully unties the red ribbon. He lifts the lid, pushes aside the tissue paper, and then stops breathing entirely.

Inside the box are three pairs of beautiful, black lace boxer briefs.

“Steve…” Bucky breathes, reaching out to reverently run his fingertips over the delicate fabric. “They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks tentatively. “You like ‘em? I wasn’t sure what type you’d like, so I figured I’d start with something simple but beautiful, y’know?”

Tearing his eyes away from the gift, Bucky looks back up at Steve.

He makes sure to look him in the eye before saying, “I love them. They’re really gorgeous, Steve.” He leans in, putting a hand on the side of Steve’s neck and placing a kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

Steve’s eyes remain closed for a moment after Bucky draws back. “You’re welcome, Buck. Wanna go put ‘em on?”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Now?”

Steve shrugs. “Why not?”

Bucky steals another quick kiss. “Okay. Let me just…” He swallows down his sudden nerves. “I’ll call you when I’m done?”

Steve nods, and Bucky disappears into the bedroom, clutching the box like it’s precious. Which it is, kind of. To him, anyway.

He turns on the bedside lamps, then strips naked, carefully folding his clothes and putting them on the chair next to the wardrobe. Next, he gingerly takes out one pair of briefs and carefully steps into them. When he turns towards the mirror to looks himself over, he sucks in a sharp breath.

The briefs fit him like a second skin, perfectly hugging his hips and ass, easily accommodating the slight bulge of his already half-hard cock.

He looks… sexy. He feels sexy. A little bit nervous about Steve’s reaction, still, but the little voice in the back of his mind whispers to him that there’s no way in hell Steve isn’t going to like the way he looks in these.

Taking a deep breath, he walks over to the bedroom door and opens it. “Steve?”

He doesn’t have to wait long: Steve appears in the doorway approximately one and a half second later. With one look at Steve’s face, all of Bucky’s worries are erased. His expression is one of adoration mixed with naked desire, and it takes Bucky’s breath away.

They stand there, looking at each other, Steve’s eyes roaming up and down Bucky’s body, and Bucky has never felt more desirable in his life. It’s a heady feeling.

Finally, Steve breaks the silence. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he says in a gravelly voice. “Look at you.”

Bucky lowers his gaze, then coyly looks back up at Steve through his eyelashes. Steve, as if pulled by an invisible thread, walks over to him, only stopping when their faces are mere inches from each other.

Bucky can feel Steve’s quickened breath against his lips, that’s how close he is, and despite the fact that they kissed not ten minutes earlier, it feels as though they’re about to kiss for the very first time. He feels inexplicably nervous, his stomach roiling with nerves and excitement. When he locks eyes with Steve, his breath hitches in his throat.

Steve’s looking at him like he wants to devour him, his eyes burning as they flick between Bucky’s lips and his eyes, until finally, he closes the distance between them. He presses a hot, eager kiss to his mouth, deepening it immediately, and Bucky moans, swaying forward into Steve’s sturdy torso. Steve’s hands come up to wrap around Bucky’s biceps, keeping him steady, and when he breaks the kiss and pulls back, Bucky feels bereft. He makes a pleading sound, something between a sigh and a whine, making Steve lean in again, if only to brush his lips, feather light, over Bucky’s.

“You look gorgeous, Buck. Let me take care of you, alright?” Steve’s voice is low, heavy with the weight of his devotion.

Bucky lets out a shaky sigh and nods. He lets himself be steered towards the low bed, Steve sitting down on the edge of it and looking up at Bucky. His wide, blue eyes are framed by those long, long lashes, and despite the arousal burning low in his belly, Bucky lifts a hand to tenderly brush Steve’s golden hair back off his forehead.

Putting his hands on Bucky’s waist, Steve slowly sliding them down his sides until they’re resting on his hips. The warmth of his palms burn on Bucky’s skin through the lacy fabric. He almost wishes they could brand him; how he longs to have Steve’s handprints on him forever, like a mark of ownership.

Steve’s thumbs press in just below the jut of Bucky’s hip bones, rubbing slow circles into his skin that have Bucky breathing faster and his cock filling up to full hardness.

Leaning in, Steve presses a kiss to Bucky’s belly button, then noses down the fine trail of hair that disappears under the waistband of the panties. Pressing soft, teasing kisses to the sensitive skin below his hipbones, he finally ventures even lower, nuzzling at the outline of Bucky’s dick through the fabric. Bucky groans, his hands coming up to settle on Steve’s broad shoulders.

“Steve,” he sighs, fingers scrabbling at Steve’s shirt. “Take this off.”

Steve grunts, leaning back a little to whip off his shirt in one quick move. Much better, Bucky thinks as he smooths his palms, one flesh and one metal, over the gentle slopes of Steve’s bare shoulders.

As if he hadn’t been interrupted, Steve leans back in, mouthing enthusiastically at the hard line of Bucky’s erection, wetting the fabric. He’s making pleased little sounds that Bucky savours, wants to store in the back of his brain to brighten up his darkest days. Steve’s hands start to wander, running down and up Bucky’s thighs, thumbs brushing the insides before they end up on Bucky’s ass. He kneads the firm flesh, making the lace scratch a little roughly over Bucky’s skin, and Bucky is unsure whether to push back into Steve’s big hands or forward, towards the warm, wet heat of his mouth.  

Opening his mouth further, Steve moans against Bucky’s dick, his fingers digging into his hips almost painfully. Bucky shudder, his hips stuttering forward.

“Steve,” Bucky whimpers again, “please, Stevie.”

“What do you need, Bucky?” Steve asks, like he doesn’t know full well.

“Your mouth-”

“Yeah?” Steve says, looking up at him with dark eyes. “Tell me what you want me to do, Buck. I want to hear you say it.”

Bucky groans, his cheeks burning hot. “Want you to – want you to suck my cock, Steve. Please.”

“Whatever you want, pretty baby,” Steve says, and then he’s ducking his head to run his tongue teasingly over the leaking tip of Bucky’s dick where it’s peeking out over the waistband of the panties.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes, his fingers digging into the hard muscle of Steve’s trapezius.

Slowly, inch by inch, Steve starts to pull down Bucky’s briefs until they come to rest below the swell of his ass. Bucky’s erection springs free, hitting Steve’s cheek, and Steve hums appreciatively. He starts to mouth along the side of it, torturously slow, before he finally closes his red, plush lips around the head of Bucky’s cock. Without further teasing, he sinks down on it, taking him deeper and deeper until he hits the back of his throat.

Bucky swears loudly, his left hand tangling in Steve’s soft, blond hair, messing it up. “Jesus, Steve. God fucking dammit.”

Steve makes a throaty sound, one hand coming up to wrap around the base of Bucky’s dick as the other keeps kneading his ass cheek. Bucky watches raptly as Steve begins to bob his head; red, wet lips sliding along Bucky’s shaft, creating the most exquisite suction that has Bucky’s bare toes curling against the carpet. Steve’s wicked tongue curls around Bucky’s cockhead each time he comes up, teasingly tonguing the slit before he sinks down again, taking him all the way to the root. His eyes are closed in bliss, as if he’s enjoying this just as much as Bucky is, which, to be precise, is a helluva lot.

”Oh, Stevie, uhh,” Bucky pants, closing his eyes too and letting his head fall back, giving himself over to sensation. “Feels so good, baby, so fucking good. God, your mouth.”

Steve hums with a mouthful of cock, the vibrations skittering up Bucky’s body, making him shiver. Seemingly just as worked up as Bucky is, just as eager for it, he starts to speed up, swallowing him down over and over. He makes it wet and sloppy, clearly not giving a fuck about what he may look like, which only makes Bucky burn hotter. Steve lets his left hand dip into the cleft of Bucky’s ass, fingertips just skating over his tightly clenched hole before he starts to rub at it with more intent.

Bucky groans loudly, fire licking up his spine as he’s gripped by an all-consuming lust, a need to claim or be claimed, he doesn’t know, and wanting to come so badly now he can taste it in his mouth. His fingers tighten in Steve’s hair unconsciously, pushing his head down further on every downward stroke, until he can feel Steve’s throat clench around the head of his cock. The pulsing sensation nearly breaks Bucky’s brain, and then Steve pushes the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle of Bucky’s asshole, just pushing inside, and Bucky is done.

He shouts, doubling over as his hands scrabble at Steve’s shoulders and head, pushing into Steve’s mouth as deeply as he possibly can while Steve groans and shudders underneath him. Bucky comes so hard he sees entire galaxies, gasping as his cock pulses on Steve’s tongue, spilling hotly down his throat until he’s completely, utterly spent.

It takes a few long moments for some of his brain to come back online, but when it does, he hastily pulls back.

“Shit, fuck, Steve. I’m so sorry.” He falls to his knees in front of Steve, hands coming up to cup Steve’s cheeks. “Are you alright?”

Steve’s eyes are watering. A few tears having spilled over, making glistening tracks down his flushed cheeks, and his hair is an absolute goddamn mess. He looks as if he just thoroughly got his throat fucked.

“I’m fine,” he rasps, licking his lips. “Don’t worry about me.”

Bucky scoffs, barely refraining from cuffing Steve on the back of the head. “I just nearly choked you with my dick. Of course I’m gonna worry about you.” He leans in to kiss the tear tracks on Steve’s cheeks and adds, more softly, “Time for me to take care of you now, honey.”

Somehow, the flush on Steve’s cheeks deepens. He clears his throat and says, “No need, honestly.”

Bucky frowns, his eyes flicking down to Steve’s lap – and his mouth falls open.

“Did you…” he starts, eyeing the large, dark patch spreading out on the front of Steve’s sweats. “Did you come?”

Steve gives a sheepish nods. “Uh, yeah.”

Holy fucking shit. “You came untouched, just from me fucking your throat?” Bucky asks incredulously.

“To be fair, the panties helped.”

Bucky snorts. He shakes his head, leaning up to press a kiss to Steve’s bruised, red lips. “They really did, huh.”

Steve hums against his mouth. “I think we should get some more.”

“Let’s do it, baby.”

[deathfrisbeeinthetardis]

Call me Yours

So @helloitsvehere​ had to go ahead and this under one of my reblogs and even sent me a whole headcanon on the subject, so I had to go write this little thing. 

Thank you for the idea Star, I love you so much and happy Valentine’s Day!

Summary: “I’ll write it on you next.”

“What you just did right there, is sacrilege of the highest form."  

Ryan angles his head, leveling what he proudly deems his intimidating look at Shane sitting in the chair next to him.    

They’re shooting Top 5 in Ryan’s living room, the spread of his kitchen behind him the most confusing mix of comfort and stress. Sure, they’ve spent hours and hours in this very spot discussing and planning and going crazy over this stupidly high-risk project, but up until a week ago when they really put down the cash to get the filming equipment, it all seemed as real as a dream. 

Now, with the scorching lights and cameras trained on him in his place of residence, cloth thrown over the windows to block out the night, casting the room in a soft beige tint, Ryan thinks anything could happen.  

Shane leans back with his board in his hands, the very sight of the scrawled name of the restaurant comfortably nestled in third place paining Ryan on both physical and spiritual levels. It is completely unacceptable. An abomination to humanity itself. 

"I’ve never even heard of that place. Steven!” He gesticulates at Shane with his marker and calls out to Steven sitting just out of the frame, because he’s gotta get some sort of sane Californian opinion on this, no matter what Steven’s actual native state is. Ryan cannot be alone in this.  

“Thank you!” He throws out a hand in a half salute when he receives–an albeit longsuffering– frown and shake of the head from Steven. But it was a vote in his direction. 

“I like it, and that’s enough,” Shane smiles at him with his curvy eyes, waving a hand in a there-there gesture and Ryan can feel himself bristling. “Our opinions are different, isn’t that the whole point of this show?”

“The point,” Ryan says tightly, an accusing marker pointed at the offending name, “Is that you provide sensible reasons in support of those opinions.”

“I laid out a very well-made argument, you’re the one that shot it down." 

"I did not,” Shane’s giving him that look that says you know you’re wrong, something he has had to endure for the past four years on Unsolved. And fine, maybe he is, but that’s not important. “It broke down on its own, it’s so little known you may as well have written your address on there to represent your mom’s cooking.”

“Watch it Bergara, my mother’s cooking is amazing." 

"Well, you better write the Madej name down on that board there then.”

“I’ll write it on you next." 

It’s a stupid comeback, really, like what a middle schooler would come up with. Ryan would have realized this, may even have commented on it, if only he could think at all. 

Because there is just something about the way Shane leans in, voice pitched low and eyes narrowed with intent, his big hands curled around the edge of the modified whiteboards in a secure hold. Ryan shivers, he can’t help it, feeling heat rising high on his cheeks. 

It’s barely been two months, and this thing they have between them is the best thing that has happened to Ryan by far, he’s sure. 

It has just happened so fast, their first kiss, first date, first everything had been caught up in the whirlwind of setting up their own company, finally getting to create under their own names with no higher order than themselves. It is a lot, all this fresh freedom wrapped up in the new restraints they fight around every corner, but he’d be lying if it isn’t exhilarating, like riding a rollercoaster with no seatbelt.

So there hasn’t been much time to process, to nurture their relationship the way that Ryan would have wanted. And every once in a while, the fact that there is now another layer to the bond they had accumulated and enforced through years of work and partnership; the strange not-changes that had just shifted into place. The fact that all the half-hidden and not so veiled suggestions and hints now have a secure chance of being acted upon-- it comes round to hit him all at once, leaving him flushed and tingling at the fingertips, desperately wondering what if.

Dimly, Ryan realizes that he hasn’t said anything in reply. How long had he sat there with some kind of dopey look on his face, just staring at Shane? This is so absolutely not the time to do this. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Steven shaking his head, that pained frown making another appearance. Shane has dropped his serious face, a satisfied tilt to his mouth that Ryan wants to see turn into a laugh. 

So Ryan works with what he has, and sometimes that doesn’t include spoken words. 

"Oi!” Shane hollers when Ryan launches an attack on his bare arm via marker, the taller man scrambling to shift in his chair and holding his board out like a shield, inching his head out the side to peek at Ryan, “Now that’s just rude.” He declares, and Ryan thinks Shane would have even stuck out a finger if he wasn’t gripping the board so hard. 

“You brought it on yourself, big guy.” Ryan arches an eyebrow, watching with some satisfaction as Shane’s eyes slip down to his lips for just a second. At least he wasn’t alone in this. 

“So what was all that about?”

Shane must have noticed more than he let on, Ryan thinks later, when Shane crowds him against the sink, dipping his head to nip at the shell of Ryan’s ear, words a rumble against his back. 

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Ryan hums, leaning back into Shane to let the man feel his warmth, appreciating the sight of the two of them reflected in the mirror. Shane runs cold, something to do with circulation losing the fight against his stupid height and extra-long limbs. But it is quite nice when it comes to sharing a bed.

“You got real red back there, even Steven noticed.”

Ryan’s really tired, out-like-a-light tired, but heat coils in his gut almost instantly. He drops his gaze, suddenly too shy to even look at where Shane’s eyes are twinkling. But it really doesn’t help his situation, because then he sees what Shane’s holding delicately in one hand. 

It’s the marker, the very same one, in fact, that he had used to dot Shane’s arm with little black spots. Now those marks stook out stark against Shane’s skin in the white light of the bathroom. 

“You’d like it if I wrote my name on you wouldn’t you?” Shane murmurs into his ear, twirling the plastic tube around in his hand casually, like he would have allowed himself to do while on camera. Now that’s a thought. Ryan doesn’t think he’s breathing, he gives the barest of nods, eyes trained on the movement. 

“Where would you like it, hmm? Here?” Shane’s other hand skims along his side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He nudges the side of Ryan’s neck with his nose, voice low, “Or here where everyone can see, where they can read my name and know you’re mine?”

There’s a pressure building, and Ryan’s immensely glad they’re doing this after he changed out of his jeans. 

“Maybe I’ll write it on you right here, so you can watch yourself come in the mirror?”

“Fuck.” Ryan has to scrabble for a hold on the sink then, his knees losing friction and buckling under him. He feels like one of those car-wash blowy things, and Shane had just ripped out the plug to the engine, leaving him to crumple haphazardly towards the ground in a boneless heap. 

But Shane’s there to catch him, hands circling Ryans’ waist in a steady hold. 

“Too much?” Shane asks, catching his gaze in the mirror.

“Jesus.” Ryan breathes, feeling Shane chuckle against him, the taller man ducking his head to press a kiss into Ryan’s neck. 

“There’s not gonna be room for our pal JC tonight, I can promise you that.”

“Shane. Oh my God.” Ryan complains, eyes fluttering closed against the gentle brushes of hands and breath. 

“Not him either.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

“Do you want me to?” Shane’s stubble is tickling the back of Ryan’s neck, Shane’ voice a quiet murmur in his ear, and Ryan’s has always been a sucker for those sweet sweet acoustics. 

“Fuck no." 

"Open your eyes for me, baby, I want you to see yourself for the next part." 

Oh this is definitely a good way to end the night. 

"Look who came in with makeup today.”

Ryan’s jolted out from his morning haze, head jerking up to see Jen smirking at him between the gaps of their computer monitors. It’s a bright Monday morning, and they’re back to shooting Unsolved at the ol’ BU office. 

“What?” He asks, setting his mug carefully down on his desk, already half empty. He should really watch his caffeine count, he wouldn’t be much use at work if he got all jittery during a shoot. But it’s on Buzzfeed, so he’s going to indulge just a little. 

“Busy night was it?” Jen taps a hand on her neck lightly, eyes flitting over to where Shane was opening up his laptop, hair fluffed up and messy. And oh, oh fuck. 

Ryan’s hand shoots up to the side of his neck, mouth dropping open. They had left his place so hurriedly this morning, barely pulling on t-shirts and pants to fall into an Uber, Ryan had had to forfeit toothpaste for mints. There was no time for mirrors and grooming.

No time for other things too, as it turns out. 

“How…?” He can’t really bring him to finish the question, it seems so wrong to even talk about this here, but Jen takes pity on him.

“Very.” She offers him a sympathizing grimace. 

He reaches out to Shane blindly with a fluttering hand, and he thinks he accidentally taps the man across the face, but it does get his attention. Shane’s eyes widen when Ryan turns to show him his neck. 

“Oh shit.” There’s worry in his face as Shane does a quick once over to check if the others are showing, which they weren’t. It’d be really problematic if they do, considering where they are. When he meets Ryan’s eyes again, Ryan thinks he sees something like excitement glint there. 

And maybe, just maybe, there’s a thrill in Ryan’s chest as well.

“Do you need…?” Shane starts, one arm outstretched as if he would bolt and fetch Ryan all the wet-wipes and concealer that he’d ever need, the moment Ryan asks. And Ryan’s heart just absolutely melts for this man. 

Slowly, Ryan lowers his hand to bare the black lines, the span of Shane’s signature arcing across the side of his throat, probably along with the faint print of Shane’s hand, if the tenderness there was any indication. Ryan’s wide awake now, feeling his face heat up when Shane’s eyes darken in the morning light. 

“Oh Ryan.” It shouldn’t be possible to look sultry and soft at the same time, and Ryan is immensely glad that he gets to have this all to himself. 

“Shane.” He echoes, sitting up straighter in his seat. Jen whistles from across his desk. 

“So you’re leaving it on?” Shane leans on the arm of his chair, and now he’s more confident, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, “People are gonna take pictures, social media, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Let them.” Ryan crosses his arms and hooks a foot around Shane’s ankle, offering the taller man a sly smile and savoring the sight of the blush creeping onto Shane’s cheeks. “You did say it looked good last night.”

Shane’s eyes tilt until they’re curvy, and he flashes a devious grin back, and Ryan knows today’s gonna stretch like decades before they can rush home and fall on something soft, or crash against a wall. Both have proven equally effective. 

“Oh you bet it does." 

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Thank You

I don’t typically write for Rami bc I prefer to write for his characters; however, I’ve reached 200 followers, and I think that’s really cool. I’d like to show my appreciation by sharing a Rami story because he is just SUCH a teeny powerhouse of a muse. 

I want to first say a great big thank you to the folks in the Rami fandom who have made me feel so welcome. I write for myself because it “sparks joy,” but I post for YOU because you’ve been so kind and encouraging. 

So, thanks to all of you for following my blog. I love you all. Here’s a fic about those goddamn Bafta pants. Author’s Note: There is no rhyme or reason for this other than smut, so don’t overthink the context or surrounding details. I am not making any statement other than I found those pants . . . inspirational 😉

Warning: PWP, no under 18s

At some point during the BAFTAs After-Party, Rami ditched his perfectly white jacket, dropping it onto the chair behind him at the bar, leaving your main focal point for the entire night unblocked. You listened as he laughed, his glass of champagne sloshing a little as he moved his hands, telling the group of people around him something that made them all laugh, a tiny roar that drew the momentary attention of other partygoers.

You had damn near had enough of his teasing. He knew how good he looked in that suit and he was riding a high wave of confidence after his win. Every now and then, he’d shoot you a glance, an arrogant smirk planted on his face because he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He was an actor, a multiple-award-winning actor, and he knew how to use his face, and in the case of this evening, also his trousers, as a weapon.

You set your own drink down, gathering the long, slinky fabric of your dress in your hand and crossing the room. Rami was listening to another person in his circle, so you were able to step slightly in front of him and place your hand on his shoulder. You leaned into his body and with your lips right next to his ear, you whispered, “You’ve teased me long enough. I want your cock in my mouth. Have your driver drop you at my place, Mr. Malek.”

And you left as Rami shifted uncomfortably; you could just make out the blur of him yanking his white jacket off the bar chair, probably using it to cover the twitching hardness those fucking pants were not going to be able to hide on their own.

You left with a smile of satisfaction on your face, nodding to some people you knew as you ducked into your waiting car.

* * * * *

You stood at one of the full-length windows that lined your corner apartment, displaying spectacular views of the city which was lit up as far as the eye could see. Stripped down to your sexiest black underwear and bra set, your ass cheeks perfectly framed with lace and on display for when he walked through the door, you drank your champagne as you continued to wait. Your hair was still piled onto the top of your head in a pretty updo, but you’d taken most of the thick Red Carpet makeup off, leaving only your eye makeup because you knew it’d add to the effect of what you were about to do to your little tease.

When the key turned in the lock and the door opened and closed, you couldn’t help but smile. It had been less than an hour, so he must have given himself just enough time to say his goodbyes before he left to follow you.

You continued to sip your champagne and watched his reflection as it approached you, the beautiful white suit standing out in the window as the rest of him appeared to blend in with the city. His hands slid around your waist and his thick fingers crawled across your abdomen.

He pressed his body close to yours and leaned in to rest his chin on your shoulder, his face just starting to grow some stubble in the late hours of the night. His scent was a glorious mixture of his expensive cologne and the sweetness of the champagne on his breath as he contentedly sighed, turning his head to nuzzle his nose into your neck.

He almost got you with that move, too, your eyes slipping shut before they blinked back open; now that you were alone in your apartment and not surrounded by hundreds of other people, you were in control. And Rami had been a bad, bad boy.

“You smell so good,” he whispered, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear.

You ignored him and continued to sip your champagne.

Rami kissed down your exposed neck and chuckled into your skin.

“You mad at me?” he whispered as his lips ghosted across the base of your neck.

“I’m so happy you won, darling,” you said, your tone cheerful as you continued to ignore his kisses.

“But I’d like to spend some time with the real star of the evening,” you said, your tone turning seductive.

Rami stopped, his lips on your shoulder, and you were sure he was holding his breath.  

You turned around and he stepped back, releasing you from his lips and his hands. Rami’s eyes flicked over your face and his lips were drawn into a tight line.

“Let’s see,” you purred, your hands coming up to touch his face.

“Such expressive eyes. Think maybe that’s what the magazines will talk about tomorrow?”

Your fingers traced over his brows and across the soft skin underneath his eyes. You lightly trailed a finger over each set of eyelashes, before whispering, “No. Not the eyes.”

“How about this mouth?” you said as you traced his lips with your fingers, and he opened them, responding to your touch. “Such a pretty little pout.”

You moved forward to grab his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling it out and swiping your tongue over it before releasing it.

Rami grabbed your hips, his fingers digging into the upper sides of your ass as he steadied himself. You could see his chest rising and falling, his breaths becoming more shallow as you played your game.

“Hmm. Still a no, though. I guess there’s always this jawline,” you said turning his face a bit roughly with one hand then reaching up to trace the angles with your other.

“So defined. So handsome,” you said before trailing your tongue along the bone from ear to chin.

“Y/N,” Rami breathed, his fingers flexing and his hips pushing toward you to try to get some friction. “Please.”

You chuckled into his ear and released his jaw. His eyes snapped to yours and he tried to close the distance and kiss you, but you pushed into his shoulders, holding him at bay.

“So well-proportioned,” you said in the same tone, refusing to acknowledge his need for you. “Maybe that’s what they’ll talk about tomorrow? The perfect cut of this jacket?”

You pushed his jacket off his shoulders, the white material separating from his black shirt easily, landing in a ripple on the floor.

You slid your hands up and down his arms, grasping at his biceps before moving across his chest and squeezing his pecks, his nipples already hard and visible through the thin, silky material of the shirt.

You shook your head no as you lightly scratched at his nipples, and tsked your tongue. “Nope. Not the jacket.”

You slid your hands down, stopping at the top of his trousers. Rami was watching your every movement, his eyes begging you to fulfill the tease you whispered as you left the party.

You gave him a seductive smirk as you dropped to your knees.

“Oh!” you gasped, feigning shock. “What a pleasure to meet you!”

You spoke to Rami’s growing cock as it strained against his white pants.

“I’ve known about your talents for a long time, but how nice to see you finally getting the recognition you deserve,” you said, looking up to meet Rami’s eyes, his face split into a wide grin, his perfectly white teeth a match to his perfectly white suit.

Rami slid his hand under your chin, grasping it, locking your head in place to force your eyes to remain on his face.

“You are such an asshole,” he said through his wide smile.

“Your world-famous friend doesn’t seem to think so,” you shot back.

Rami released your chin and moved both of his hands to your shoulders.

You turned your attention back to the evening’s real star and ran your fingers down over the front of the soft fabric that covered his thighs, knowing he was still watching you with those big, gorgeous eyes. You looked at his clearly defined bulge again and thought about how worthless a pair of pants like this really were; they served one purpose and one purpose only—to highlight Rami’s perfect anatomy.

What a little slut, you thought as you leaned in and ran your tongue over his cock, stopping to play with the tip by tracing the ridge of his head.

Rami groaned, an obnoxious, half-growl, half-moan as his hands gripped your shoulders.

You continued to mouth over his hard cock, lightly biting down on the thickest part of his bulge as you reached around to grasp his ass.

“Ohmyfuckinggod,” Rami mumbled through another obnoxious moan. “Please, Y/N. You’re killing me.”

“You’ve been sucha bad, bad boy Rami,” you said as you nuzzled his dick through the fabric. “Now you have to be patient.”

He whimpered and you almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

After all, he was the one who chose those goddamn pants.

You continued lightly nuzzling and licking at his cock through the pants as you ran your hands over his ass, his thighs, and his calves, touching everywhere you could reach.

“I—” he began, his breath hitching. “I’m so-sorry. For being a tease.”

You paused and looked up, arching a brow, a smirk of victory on your lips.

His mouth was open and his tongue was darting out to wet his lips before he sucked in the bottom one; your eyes never wavered from his as you brought your hands to the clasp on his trousers.

His eyes flicked to your fingers to watch as you slowly undid the clasp and lowered the zipper even more slowly. You had to tug a little to get them to fall, but they slid down his legs and pooled at his feet.

His cock bobbed as it sprang from the confines of those tight pants and you moaned as you licked a long stripe from base to tip. Rami’s fingers dug into your shoulders, probably hard enough to leave bruises, and he pulled you forward, silently begging for you to take him in your mouth.

Instead, you continued to lick and tease him, tonguing his balls, kissing his thighs, and when you paused as you slid a hand into your panties, groaning low in your throat as you slid through your slick heat, parting your lips and pushing inside of yourself before sliding up to your clit, you saw Rami’s eyes glisten with the threat of tears.

Rami attempted to speak, his voice coming out in nothing more than a rasp until he cleared his throat.

“How wet are you?”

You shook your head no, refusing to show him as you continued to work your clit.

Rami had to shift his stance as he nearly buckled when you then took him in your mouth, your other hand grasping his base as you sucked in as much of him as you could. You held him tight, not wanting him to come too soon as your fingers worked on your own orgasm.

Rami was a panting, moaning mess; his hands were now tangled in your updo as his he fucked your mouth. From his vantage, he couldn’t see what you were doing between your thighs. He could only see the movement of your arm, the dip of your shoulder and the flexing of your bicep and your forearm as you worked to an orgasm, and it drove Rami crazy.

Despite your attempts to hold him back, your teasing had been too much. Rami was so close and you had no intention of stopping, so you moved your hand to his hip. Squeezing and holding him in place to let him know he could come in your mouth.

Your orgasm crashed through you as you thought of him spilling into your mouth and you moaned around Rami’s cock as your thighs tightened and your eyes closed in pleasure.

Rami came immediately, filling your mouth with cum, some of it leaking from the corner of as you continued to bob your head lightly sucking him through his orgasm. You pulled back to look up at him as you swallowed, his eyes heavy lidded, his mouth still parted, and he watched as you cleaned his cum off with your thumb, sliding that digit in your mouth to show him that you swallowed every bit.

Rami had moved his hands back to your shoulders to steady himself and they slid down your arms as he helped pull you to your feet, your hand sliding out of your panties.

He smiled when you were facing him, his expression one of satiation. You smiled back, but it was a wicked little grin as you slid your glistening fingers over his lips, coating the upper and lower in your juices. Rami’s grip on your upper arms tightened as his tongue followed your fingers and you slid them into his mouth, your own breathing picking up as he sucked them, humming around them as his tongue slid between the two digits. As you pulled your fingers out, he bit down and your fingers scraped deliciously between his teeth.

You leaned in to lightly kiss his lips before starting to undo his bowtie, loosening the fabric so it hung around his collar. Slowly, you unbuttoned his shirt, kissing each newly exposed expanse of skin, until you were once again on your knees. You took his softened cock into your mouth and Rami grunted. You released him and chuckled as you reached down to help him out of his shoes and socks, finally able to completely free him from his trousers.

You stood back up and picked your almost forgotten champagne glass off the floor. You walked over to the coffee table to refill it and offered your glass to Rami, picking up another and filling it, too.

“A toast,” you said, turning to face him in all his naked splendor. He grinned and held up his glass, and you smiled as you could see the city lights reflected on his back, his ass perfectly defined in the reflection of the window.

“To your first BAFTA and more importantly, to those fucking white pants.”

You laughed together as you clinked your glasses, both of you eyeing each other while taking long drinks.

Rami reached out and took your glass, setting both of them on the end table. He moved to the sofa and sat on the edge so he could pull you to stand in front of him between his legs.

He reached up, his middle fingers slowly sliding up the outside of your thighs until they met your panties. He slid them under the fabric and then hooked his fingers to finally pull the soaking wet garment off. He kissed across your hips before pulling you to settle on his lap.

He reached up to pull your face to meet his so he could kiss you, really kiss you. You shivered as his tongue twined with yours and as he nipped at your lips, opening and closing the kiss with a frenzy.

When both of you were panting, your lips glistening and swollen, he moved to kiss your neck, sucking lightly on the spots that made you moan. His hands reached behind you to unhook your bra, and he slid the straps from your arms, tossing the garment somewhere behind him.

“I want you so much,” he whispered, kissing across your breasts as your hands ran through his hair, ruining the perfect style.

“Will you let me have you?” he said, pulling your chin down to force your eyes to meet his. They were so bright and intense that it took your breath away. You loved him like this—quiet and soft, focused only on you as if all the noise of his very, very busy life had finally faded to nothing more than a quiet din, miles away.

“Always,” you whispered, moving from his lap and standing, pulling him up so he could follow you down the hall to the bedroom, those fucking white pants crumpled and forgotten on the floor.

[bapyess1r]

Sunny Daze

Chapter 3

Sunny’s POV

It was finally the day of the auction. Time to put the plans in motion. I felt a bit sick knowing this Rafe character was going to be touching all over me tonight but I had to get over it. I had to really sell it. I painted my nails a dark, dark purple and sighed as I looked into the bathroom mirror. I should be used to being used by men. With where I worked, I should’ve been used to it. But truthfully I wasn’t. And I don’t think i ever would be. Being a brief object of affection to Rafe only made me realize more just how much I couldn’t trust men. Or any man. No matter how beautiful. I looked at myself, buffering out weird spots in my makeup with my finger and checking my angles, glancing at the wig perched on a styrofoam mannequin head that I had pressed and curled to perfection. As I blew on my nails to make sure they dried, I could hear Nathan talking to Sully and Sam.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” I heard Sam say reluctantly.

“We don’t always need guns, Sam. Honestly, it should be a quick and easy in and out.” Nathan’s voice assured him. I began to prepare myself, undoing my robe and slipping on my dress and heels while I listened.

“And what about Sunny, huh? If she screws up, I’m as good as dead.”

“Don’t worry about her, Sam. She’s one of the most capable people I know and I trust her with my life. She’ll do her job and we’ll be on the right track to finding Avery’s treasure. I guarantee it.”

“Yeah well… we’ll see.” Sam grumbled, sighing in distress. Nathan always seemed to be defending me against his brother. I guess Sam didn’t trust me just as much as I didn’t trust him. Which was fair in this business but it still hurt. I would’ve saved his ass ten times over and he still wouldn’t trust me. I huffed as I zipped up my dress and buttoned the top of the keyhole in the back. This dress really was gorgeous. All black sparkling lace with long sleeves and a high neck. Hugging my every curve, the scalloped hem of the dress stopped right at my thighs. I had to give it to myself. ‘I clean up real nice...’ I thought as I put on my wig, completing my look. I exited the bathroom as I pressed my earrings in, Sully staring at me as I sat down to smoke a cigarette.

“Well I’ll be goddamned…” he smiled, admiring my look. “Rafe won’t know what hit em, kid.” I smirked with a stick between my lips.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, old man.” I said, gesturing to his tailored black tie tuxedo. I light his cigar for him as I light my cigarette, noticing the brothers Drake lightly arguing over slight changes made to the plan.

“They’ve been at it like this since we started getting ready.”

“Why?” I groaned, making an annoyed expression as I leaned back into my chair in a very “unladylike” manner. Sully gave a light chuckle as he sipped his scotch.

“To put it simply: Sam wants guns, Nate disagrees.” He said loud enough for the boys to hear and they brought their dispute inside.

“We need guns. If security’s anything like how we saw it on the boat the other day, I imagine it’ll be ten times worse tonight.” I said in a reasonable tone before taking a drag, preparing my electronics for the auction.

“See!” Sam exclaimed. Suddenly, everyone began trying to voice their opinions at once. Nathan waved his arms and quieted the commotion in the room.

“Hey! No guns. And that’s final.” He said looking each one of us in the eyes. “You look great, Sunny.” He mumbled before stalking off to his room for a moment. I gave him a small consoling smile which he briefly returned before taking a minute to cool off in his room. Sam raked his hands through his hair in frustration, sitting down at the table, tapping his fingers nervously. I knew that tap all too well. I did it myself. I opened my pack of cigarettes and held it in his direction as mine dangled from my lips loosely.

“I gotta get another pack.” He sighed. “Thanks, sister.” He mumbled taking one from the pack.

“Mmhmm.” I responded, making sure my handheld was prepped and ready. “Have you and Nathan secured your drop off point?” I asked, getting straight to business. He responded by nodding, lighting the cigarette. “And you have your coverups? Don’t need your dirty suits giving us away-”

“Listen, Sunny. Just make sure you’re doing your job and distract Rafe. No more, no less-” he spat and Sully interjected.

“Hey!” He snapped as I hit Sam with the crazy eyes. “Cool it, boy. Before she tears you a new one.” The eldest Drake kept his eyes on me, fixing his mouth to argue but with a warning of my raised brow, he decided against it. He nodded as he made a face before standing to fix himself a drink. I checked the time on the wall clock and gathered my things to leave.

“It’s 6:45. I need to go.” I said sternly. Standing as I grabbed an ear com from it’s charging station. “Don’t forget your coms when you leave. I should be able to hear you when you’re in range.” I turned to leave, pivoting on my heel and Sully grabbed a hold of my arm.

“Kid… be careful.” He said, his voice dripping with worry. I gave him a smile and placed a hand on his shoulder, kissing his cheek and wiping away the stain with my thumb.

“I’ll be fine, Sully.” I assured him, shooting Sam a look before heading to Nate’s room. I knocked on the door and turned the knob, sticking my head inside. He sat on the bed with his head in his hands, his tuxedo jacket sitting next to him. “Natey, I’m leavin’.” I said and his head perked up at the sound of my voice. I let myself in.

“Oh. Okay…” he sighed standing up. He hugged me tightly and attempted to squeeze my cheeks but I swatted his hand away.

“You’ll ruin my makeup, stop it!” I chuckled so he settled for cradling the sides of my head. He looked at me a moment, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes.

“From womb to tomb.” He said to me. I patted his chest with a friendly grin.

“From birth to earth.” I replied.

“Thank you for this.” He told me.

“Of course, Nate-o.”

“No really. I mean it. You’re sticking your neck out for someone you just met two days ago.”

“He’s your brother, Nathan. No duh I’m gonna help. Now,” I started adjusting his tie and collar, smoothing it to perfection. “I have to go. Rafe will be picking me up any minute.” I said and I kissed his cheek, trying my best not to stain his cheek as well.

“See you there.” He said after me as I left the room. “I’ll watch your 6.”

“Watch your own 6.” I chuckled.

I left the hotel, amazed by the Italian sunset as I walked down the street to the hotel I told Rafe about. I walked as quickly as possible, hearing my heels click on the concrete as I checked the time on my rhinestoned wristwatch. When I arrived at the hotel, the white limousine was already outside waiting. “Shit.” I muttered, picking up my walk to a run as fast as I could in the heels I wore, racking my brain for an excuse as to why I was coming from another direction. I adjusted my hair as I approached the building, checking my makeup in the reflection of my compact before storing it away. I noticed Rafe dressed in a tuxedo with a crisp white jacket; from the looks of it, the jacket was a size too big for his narrow shoulders. I snickered as I walked through the big glass doors, swinging my hips as I approached him checking his watch. Luckily he was expecting me from the opposite direction. With a turn of my lips I tapped him on his shoulder and he whipped his head around to gawk at me. His hard features softened at the sight of me as his eyes scanned my body from head to toe. A slick smile spread on his face and he whistled, shoving a hand in his pocket and scratching at the stubble on his chin. With a chuckle, he spoke.

“Sunny, I’ve gotta be honest with you. I’m not usually rendered speechless but you just look… spectacular. No- immaculate!” He took my hand in his and pressed his lips to the back of my knuckles. I cringed a bit at his sudden greasiness but played it off as flattery.

“You’re too kind, Mr. Ad- I mean, Rafe. Sorry!” I giggled feigning nerves. “You just make me so nervous…”

“Hey, there’s nothing you need to be nervous about, sweetheart.” He smirked, placing a hand on my back to guide me to the car. A limo driver rounded the vehicle and stood to open the door for us, revealing lush red interior seating. “After you.” He said as I smiled at him brightly and slid into the limo, my clutch held close to my chest, then he followed in behind me. He let out a large sigh as he settled into his seat, adjusting his blazer as he reached for the bottle of champagne sitting in the lit up ice bin beside him. He moved closer to me, holding the shiny rose gold bottle with an “A” branded into a spade. “Armand de Brignac, Rosé. Have you ever had one of these before?” He asked me as he began to untwist the wires holding the cork in place. I shook my head with an amused smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“No I can’t say that I have.” I grinned.

“Well then you… are in for a treat!” He shot me a charming smile, both of us laughing as the cork sprang from the bottle. He grabbed a glass from the hanger above the little mini bar and began to pour me a drink, the salmon-hued champagne bringing itself to a fizz and a soft foam. Then he just straight up dropped a strawberry in it.

“Well fuck…” The words just fell out of my mouth and I covered my lips in embarrassment, causing him to burst into laughter as he poured himself a glass too. “Sorry! I just… this is really nice.” I said, bringing my nose to the glass. I detected a hint of strawberry even in the champagne itself.

“It’s comprised of three different vintages; composed solely of grapes from these wineries on French historic grounds…” he told me, easing close to me. I moaned in response to his brief teaching as I continued to smell the fruit drink. He held his glass before me with a smile. “A toast…. to history, damn good champagne, and….exceptionally beautiful women…” he smirked and we clink our glasses before sipping them gingerly, cozying up to each other in the dim lighting. As the limo began to see us to our destination, we began to share a conversation on his business at this auction and a bit about me...

Sam’s POV

“Need me to get that for you little brother?” I chuckled as I watched Nathan swing his grappling hook, estimating how he was going to get his rope to the beam beneath the bridge. He scoffed.

“I got it! I’ve been doin’ this for a while too, y’know.” He said, tossing the grappling hook. He missed on the first try and turned to look at me with a nervous chuckle.

“You were saying?” I said smugly.

“Now just gimme a minute, would ya!” He shot back before trying once again. He made it this time. “See?” He smirked and I let out a hearty chuckle as he swung to the cliffs nearby.

“Yeah, I see little brother.” I followed suit and reached the beam in one try. “And that’s how you do it!” I shouted to him as I climbed the cliffs behind him.

“Show off…” Nathan mumbled. After climbing for a while, we reached the estate and snuck our way to the window left open for us by Sully. Nathan almost forgot to take his jumpsuit off and I stopped him quickly.

“Um, Nathan?” He didn’t respond. “Nathan?!”

“What?!” He exclaimed. And I looked at him, dramatically unzipping my jumpsuit to reveal my tuxedo. “Oh! Right! I almost forgot…” he chuckled doing the same and we pushed them out of sight towards a ledge. I took a deep breath as I adjusted my slacks, nervously fidgeting with the collar of my blazer.

“Right… how do I look?” I asked, stepping away for him to analyze me.

“Like four hundred million bucks, now let’s get goin’.” He replied, brushing off a bit of dust from my shoulder before crawling through the window.

“Alright, I’m right behind ya…” I mumbled before following. Just where he said he’d be, Sully sat waiting to usher us into the auction.

“‘Kay! Now that we’re all here. Let’s go get this cross-”

“Hold on, kid there uh…. might be a problem with that…” Sully interrupted, smoking his cigar. I began to panic a little.

“What do you mean by ‘problem’, Victor?” I asked, my voice dripping with worry.

“Just… C’mon. I’ll show ya.” he said turning to lead us into the ballroom.

We entered a ballroom on the top floor, the room basically built with marble, equipped with extravagant diamond chandeliers, red curtains hanging from the walls and a balcony with a fantastic view or the Italian skyline. Classical and jazz music being played by a talented ensemble. “Would ya get a load of this?” I said to myself as we approached the railing. We looked down at the scene of rich people and Sully pointed at the stage. On display were three artifacts. Only one of which we came for.

“That’s Avery’s cross…” Nate said.

“They brought it out of storage just before you guys got here.” Sully grumbled.

“They changed the damned lot order…” I muttered.

“And it probably took a whole pile of cash to make that happen.” He said.

“Well… how long before they start the bidding?” My brother asks.

“Fifteen minutes, tops.” Sully answered.

“Well we’ve gotta grab it somehow…” Nathan pondered.

“Yeah sure. Just a few three hundred eyewitnesses… should be easy right?” He answered sarcastically.

“We just need a diversion…” Nathan quipped matter of factly.

“We-” I was startled by the sweet laughter in my ear, almost forgetting the com I placed there before we made our in.

‘Rafe, you’re so funny!’ I heard Sunny’s voice say. I scoffed as I looked down and let my eyes scan the crowd for her. I spotted her at the bar drinking champagne with our competitor. My heart skipped a beat and I stopped in my tracks to watch her. I saw her before she left but I definitely didn’t take the time to appreciate the view. The dress fit her perfectly, exposing her back, the hem stopping at her luscious thighs. As short as she was, her legs seemed to go on for days. And her ass looked fantastic….

“Ah I almost forgot!” I could hear Sully say at a brief distance.

‘We’re in, kid.’ I heard his voice say in the coms as Nathan grabbed me by the shoulder, tugging me into the most discreet corner.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to use the ladies room…’ I could hear Sunny tell Rafe.

‘Hurry back…’ I heard him respond smugly. Immediately I felt a bit irked.

‘Nice of you to join the party, gentlemen.’ She said.

“How’s our boy, Sunny?” Nathan asked in a low tone as the three of us circled around a table.

‘Well considering that his hands have been gradually gravitating towards my ass all evening, I’d say I have his attention.’ She replied in annoyance. ‘Security is definitely tighter around here than the other day. Infinitely. And they’ve changed the lot of the auction.’

“Sully told us. We’re tryna find a way to grab it now.” Nathan answered. I listened to the three of them discuss plans and when they didn’t go with the obvious, I interjected.

“Jesus, you all act like you’ve never been in prison before-”

‘I haven’t.’ I heard Sunny say. I gave a huff before speaking slowly to them.

“If you want something dirty done you wait for…”

‘Lights out…’ I heard her finish my sentence right along with my other two partners.

“I thought you never went to prison.” I chuckled.

‘Not prison. But I have been to jail. For three months! No thanks to your brother...’ She replied with a hint of bitterness.

“I can’t apologize enough, Sunny.” Nathan said, shaking his head.

‘You’re right. You can’t.’ She replied.

“So if we’re doing this, that means we gotta be right next to that cross without getting noticed.” Sully added.

‘How are you gonna do that?’ I heard Sunny ask. Just as I opened my mouth, a waitress approached the table. Beautiful girl, red hair tied tight in a ponytail. Her curvaceous body hidden behind a uniform of red vest and black tie with slacks.

“Scusate, signore. Antipasti?” She asked. My brother blew her off but I took the time to admire the radiant vision before me.

“Hi… how are you?” I winked, as I took a piece from her silver platter.

“Ciao.” She answered, clearly not understanding me and turned away. I admired her backside as she left with a groan. It had been so long for me.

‘You’re the worst…’ I heard Sunny scoff and Nathan punched my arm.

“Hey! Stay focused.” He told me.

“A waiter wouldn’t get noticed…” I suggested, eating the small hors d’oeuvre and returning back to our conversation before I was so pleasantly interrupted.

“That could work.” Sully agreed.

“That will work. Sunny, could you find me a way into the breaker room? A place this big won’t run their electricity electronically so we’re gonna have to kill the power manually.”

‘Already on it.’ She replied quickly.

“Solid. Sam, you’ll be a waiter.” Nate told me, dishing out orders.

“I’m the waiter?”

“You’re the best pickpocket.” He told me. I shrug my shoulders with a bit of pride. “Sully, you head down to the floor with Sunny to keep your eyes on the prize. Let us know if anything gets...hinky.”

“I can do that.” He answered with a nod.

“And Sunny, please continue to distract Rafe just a little bit longer.” He said gently.

‘You got it.’ She said.

“We still got this, guys. Ready?” Nathan asked and we all gave variations of agreement. “Then let’s do this…” And with that, the wheels began to turn...

[not-sebastian-stan]

Sebastian Stan Imagine- When I grow up

A/N: I’ve been listening to waaaaaaay too much 2000′s music and the Pussycat dolls came on and I had to write this. Enjoy

Warnings: Idk, fluff, swearing, the usual

Word Count: 1,2 K

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x singer!Reader, for like one second a Anthony Mackie x reader and a Chris Evans x reader.

The soft makeup brush swoops over your cheeks as you apply a pink blush that makes you want to puke. But they won’t see it. You puff your hair up a little and step into shimmery shoes that you can see from a mile away. You want to say that you look horrible, but hot damn, you look good. “ Five minutes! “ you hear Jessica yell from outside your room. “ You can do this. You can slay this, “ you tell yourself as you look into the mirror. You still can’t believe that you have become this now, a popstar touring around the world. You open the door. The warm, sweaty air engulfs you. You make a quick prayer to drunk you for taking shower last night. But you still grab a bottle of deodorant that Jessica is holding up for you. The cold, flowery air feels like heaven against your skin. Jessica grabs the deodorant and hands you a microphone. “ Small crowd this time. The are some people of a movie cast in it, they just finished the movie, so watch out for the paparazzi. “. You smile at Jessica and nod. “ Of course, Jessica. And please, give take a vacation next week. On my costs of course. “. The girl tries to refuse but she quickly gives in. What’s the point of money if you can’t help make other happy with it?

The closer you walk to the door, the harder you hear the deafening music. You feel how the ground shakes with its bass. You take a deep breath and open the backstage door. People dressed in black clothes are running around like headless chickens. You would think that the club would be chill, but you would be wrong. This isn't just your average sweaty, noisy, drunk club. No, it was bigger than that. Yes, Jessica said that there would just be a small crowd. But Jesus fucking christ it’s a big crowd. The theme of the night was quickly given away by the way people dressed, 2000′s. The silver, sparkly dress that you’re wearing made you blend in with it perfectly. The song that the DJ is playing, Low by Flo Rida, is being paused as he grabs the mic. 

“ For this special night we got ourselves a special lady, give it up for Y/N! “ he says. An applause rings in your ears and gives you that confidence boost that you needed. You step onto the small stage as you wave at the people clapping for you. You place the microphone that’s in your hands in the holder they put onto the stage for you. You smile as the music starts to play. The lyrics start to flow out of you as if you said them every night like a prayer. Your eyes scan over the crowd as you bounce along with the beat. Your eyes stop at one particular person. A brunette man with a stubble peppered onto his cheeks. He looks so familiar. Did you go to pre-school with him? Middle school? High school? Probably. You push the thought out of your head but make a mental note to go to him after the show.

Your act already ended two hours ago, but that didn’t stop some people from staying and dancing. One particular group kept on dancing like it was their last day. They would occasionally stop to down a shot or two. You quickly noticed that you brunette was in that group. He looks at you while the DJ keeps on talking about how his music will “ go down in history “, but you both know damn well that everybody that was here has already forgotten about his music. You excuse yourself as you walk over to the brunette. “ I’m sorry, I might be completely wrong, but you look like someone from my high school “. He says. God, why is his voice so sexy. Something clicks in your head now that you're up close. “ O my God! “ you say as you place your hand in front of your mouth to keep your screams in. “ Sebastian! I haven’t seen you since summer camp! “. He gives you a puzzled look, he clearly forgot all about you. But you can’t blame him, who would remember the ugly nobody of the class. “ I’m Y/n. Remeber? I had short hair back then? I moved to New York in grade 10. “. A smile grows on his face. You hear him mutter something foreign under his breath. “ Y/n! Wow, god. This might be awkward to say, but god damn you had one hell of a glow up! “ he says as he takes a good look at you again. A pink tint creeps itself onto your cheeks as you giggle. 

“ Chris! Mac! Come over here! “ he yells to two men standing in the group dancing behind him. The two walk over to you. “ This is Y/N. We went to school together for some years. “. They introduce their self to you as you shake their hands. “ Of course I know who you are, I don’t live under a rock! “ you say. “ I heard that you guys are here to celebrate the wrap of a movie. “. All three the man nod. “ I can’t be happier for it to be over. This guy here is horrible! “ Anthony jokes as he slaps Sebastian against his arm. You can’t help yourself but stare at them. What you would do to have those wrapped around your legs, keeping you still while he-. “ So you’re a singer now. “ Sebastian says, snapping your attention away from his arms to his voice. You nod as you swallow thickly. “ Y-Yeah. I always wanted to be one as a child. It’s like a dream coming true. “. 

“ You have the voice of an angle, Bug. “ Sebastian says. Something in you swells up at the mention of the nickname. He was the only one who called you that. You got it after he found out that your favourite animal was a ladybug. The name seemed to fit you so well in his eyes. “ So the acting thing worked out for you as well, “ you say. His smile grows bigger at the mention of it, it’s clearly something that he enjoys doing. ‘ Hell yeah! It’s amazing. I get to meet all these amazing people and I get to do something that I love. “. He makes big hand movements while talking, something that you know he does when he is excited. “ So your dream came true, huh? “ you ask. He nods. “ Let me give you my number, to keep in touch, “ you say as you grab a marker out of the little purse you have in your hands. You grab Sebastian’s hand and write your number on it. “ Hope to see you again, “ you say as you turn around and walk towards the backstage area. “ Mac! Mac! Make a picture of my arm, quick! “ you hear Sebastian yell. His little discussion with Anthony about why Sebastian doesn’t have his phone with him to take his own picture quickly ends when your name is mentioned. You take one last look over your shoulder. Sebastian throws his fist into the air while Anthony gives it a little fist bump as a congratulation. You wave at him which causes a rosy blush to appear on his cheeks and a smile to creep on his lips. God, what you would do to have those lips against yours.

The kind people who want to be on my taglist:

@thecrazyoneshavetakenover @rangotangomango

Random tags:

@joelynnp  ( I can’t tag you and I’m so sorry I don’t know why I can’t tag you)

[tooconnoisseurexpert]

The Best Razors, According to Barbers

The Best Razors, According to Barbers

Getting the best shave comes down to having the best tools for the job. You’ll want to use a good shaving cream, of course, but the most important thing is to choose the right men's razor. A cartridge razor with disposable blades is the method most men learn first (and stick to), and replacement blades are available pretty much anywhere. An electric razor might be best for someone who wants to be as quick and efficient as possible. There are also safety razors, which have been around for more than 100 years and have recently surged in popularity because many feel they provide a better shave — plus, they’re more eco-friendly and economical. And there are straight razors, which are typically the domain of professionals, but may also appeal to passionate shavers because of the unique control they offer. The fact that countless different brands make different models of the same type of razor can make choosing the right one even more overwhelming.

To help folks find the best razors on the market, we asked 14 men’s-grooming experts — including ten barbers — about their favorites and combed through our archives to find other worthy options recommended to us before. The resulting selection of razors (below) features a style for pretty much everyone, including cartridge, electric, and safety razors, along with hybrid styles, and razors to use on sensitive skin. No matter which style of razor you choose, Tony DeAngelis, a co-owner of Blue&Black barbershop in Carroll Gardens, says there are two other important factors for getting a good shave: heat and stretching the skin. As he explains, “heat, whether from running the shower or the sink, allows hair to come off easier, which means less irritation. And stretching the skin while you shave means fewer chances of nicks and scratches, because you’re creating a tighter, smoother surface for the blade to move across.”

Even though cartridge single blade razor for men may be the most ubiquitous (and what most men learn how to shave with), 12 of the 14 experts we spoke with say that a safety razor is actually the best kind to use. The main thing it boils down to is the fact that with a safety razor, you’re shaving with only one blade — many of our experts told us that more blades do not necessarily mean a better shave, and that using multi-blade cartridges can increase the likelihood of ingrown hairs and razor burn. “The safety razor is the absolute way to go,” says Chad Beightol, the owner of New York City–based men’s-grooming store Consigliere. “You’re working with a single blade that is sharp, instead of relying on a multi-blade cartridge that is trying to trap the hair between the blades.” Paul Langevin of barbershop Mildred New York adds, “The single blade minimizes irritation.” Another plus is that safety razor blades (the best of which you can find here) are far less expensive to replace than disposable cartridges, and they don’t generate any plastic waste. The experts do admit that, at first, using a safety razor won’t be quite as effortless as shaving with a Gilette or Shick (and if you’d rather stick to those cartridge razors, there are some on this list, too). But they say most people are quick converts once they get the hang of it. We’ve written about safety razors before, and German razor manufacturer Merkur was the brand that came most recommended. The Merkur 34C remains our experts’ top pick, with many saying it’s an especially good choice for beginners because the short handle makes it easy to maneuver.

Bevel is a newer safety-razor company that both barber Julien Howard and Beightol recommend. You can purchase the twin blade razor for men and blades on their own, but they also have subscription options for scheduled blade replacement, along with a full line of shaving products. The Bevel razor also has a bit of a sleeker, more contemporary look than the others on this list, and a slightly longer and narrower handle that might be more comfortable for some.

Standard safety razors are pretty straightforward: The head of the razor closes around the flexible metal blade, which is then locked into a predetermined angle. This construction works well for most people, but some may benefit from being able to customize the angle at which the blade meets the skin. For someone with sensitive skin, a lower angle will allow for a gentler shave with less irritation. Someone with coarse facial hair, on the other hand, might prefer a more aggressive angle. It all comes down to personal preference, and that’s why Xavier Rodriguez of Fellow Barber and Peter Solomon of Tweed Barbers of Boston both recommend the adjustable Merkur Progress to anyone who thinks their safety-razor shave might benefit from some customization. It has five different blade-angle settings, and you simply twist the dial at the bottom to toggle between them. If you decide this is the razor for you, you’ll want to get some blades for it as well.

Mike Gilman, the owner of the Grooming Lounge, agrees that a safety razor is going to provide the best shave when used properly. But he also notes that using one may simply not be practical for everyone. You need to be a bit more careful with a safety razor, so it’s going to take a little longer to shave; you also need to devote some time to learning proper technique. “For most guys, the method of shaving that works best, and that they are most used to, is shaving with a cartridge razor. The blades and razors are available everywhere, and they’re super-easy to use.” If you want to go the cartridge-razor route, Gilman says it’s wise to stick with a classic. His pick, the Gillette Mach 3, uses a three-blade cartridge, which is a nice compromise between the single blade of a safety razor and the five blades of some of the newest cartridge razors. “I just think the Mach 3 is the way to go,” he says.

Langevin agrees with Gilman that a cartridge razor would be a better choice for “people who don’t want to master shaving with a safety razor.” He likes Harry’s, however, which he says makes a good “disposable-blade system.” Like Bevel’s razors, Harry’s razors and blades are available à la carte, but you can also sign up for a subscription blade-replacement plan through the brand’s website.

Editor’s note: While Amazon sells the women's razor with two blade refills, if purchased from Harry’s, you’ll only get the razor, hence the cheaper price.

Groomer and makeup artist Robert Reyes says that while “safety razors are great for sensitive skin, they can be a bit time-consuming.” So if you’ve got sensitive skin but prefer a cartridge razor, he suggests this Schick model that he personally uses. “It has lubricated skin guards that help protect the skin,” Reyes explains.

For the fastest and easiest shave, an electric triple blade razor for women will likely be the best bet, and some of our experts say that using one can also reduce the occurrence of ingrown hairs. “For those who don’t like the traditional methods, I recommend foil shavers,” says Langevin. Foil shavers have a thin perforated sheet of metal covering the blades; individual hairs are fed through the tiny holes and cut by the blade below. According to Langevin, the resulting shave is the closest you can get with an electric style, and comparable to that of an analog razor. “Foil shavers get almost as close as a traditional razor, sometimes even closer,” he adds. Langevin, barber Karac Ruleau of Mott NYC, and Heather Manto of Austin’s Independence Barber Co. all recommend the Andis Cordless Profoil Shaver — Langevin uses the Andis 17200 and Manto and Ruleau use the slightly older 17150, but they are essentially the same. (The Andis Profoil, perhaps not surprisingly, also appears on our list of the best electric razors). The shaver is designed with commercial use in mind, but Manto says she would recommend it for home use as well. “It helps to pull out ingrown hairs, doesn’t cause razor bumps, and can be used wet or dry,” she says. Adds Ruleau: “It gives you a super-close shave without any razor burn, is light, durable, and inexpensive, and doesn’t require a frequent charge.” But one note from all of our experts: Foil shavers like this aren’t designed to cut long hair and only work on short, “stubble length” facial hair. While that might seem limiting, Manto thinks it makes them a great choice for people who shave regularly.

If you’re looking for an electric option to tackle longer hair (or use on sensitive skin), four experts have told us that Wahl’s Peanut is the best because it has a powerful motor, is easy to maneuver, and comes with four guards that will help you achieve the exact facial-hair length you want. (The Peanut, according to even more experts, is also great for shaving your head and manscaping.) DeAngelis calls it a “compact, sturdy machine that is going to cut what you need it to cut, but still allow you to work safely around your mustache and lips.” If used without those guards, the trimmer will cut facial hair down to that coveted five-o’clock-shadow length, add the pros, who note that a trimmer like this is also the best style of electric razor for people with sensitive skin (because of the fact that it doesn’t cut so close results in less irritation). While Wahl also sells a cordless version of the Peanut, most of our barbers prefer the corded style because they say it offers more consistent power.

Marissa Machado, a celebrity groomer and makeup artist, and two regular guys — Strategist contributor Kurt Soller and New Scientist editor Conrad Quilty-Harper — like the OneBlade electric razor from Philips Norelco, another classic brand. The OneBlade uses cartridges that are meant to be replaced every four months and is shaped like a more maneuverable cartridge razor, but it’s battery powered and features a vibrating blade, so it also recalls electric styles. Machado says that “it gives a smooth finish” and, unlike other electric razors, it’s designed to “be used with or without shaving cream.” She also praises its customizability: “It comes with trimming attachments, so it’s really an all-in-one product.”