#both of them out here wearing leather and metal in this three digit heat like the monsters they are klasjd

[shannonsketches]

Back on my bullshit looking up horse facts! Those of you who know me probably already know that I base Gan's steed on a Fresian, and my lovely follower @ultimatefangirl-exe pointed out the silver gene in bays and chestnuts -- but did you know black steeds with red manes are often that way due to sun bleaching?

Dark horses bleach in intensely sunny climates and salinity (both common in an arid desert). On its own it isn't bad, but if it doesn't shed and regrow can cause skin damage, sun burns, and even hair loss. If managed and conditioned properly, though, it can result in very pretty coats -- the ones above are referred to sometimes as 'firetail fresians' (the bleaching starts in the mane and travels to the coat over time, iirc).

I imagine Gerudo horses with these traits are a mix of both silvers and natural bleaching, but Gan's stallion remaining deep black while his hair is bright orange implies that his horse, at least, is pretty well conditioned against the sun.

[langdxn]

knife kink & crimeboss!DUNCAN AH love it

knife kink & crimeboss!DUNCAN AH love it

MY FEELS I CANNOT CONTROL THEM 🥵🥵🥵 thank you so much anon, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Waking up in your underwear tied to a chair in the middle of a plush hotel room can never be a good thing.

More curious than how you wound up here and how you came to be wearing nothing but your bra and panties was the view outside the window beside you, the skyline of Las Vegas alight with neon vibrance against the black night sky. You were definitely in Washington DC when this day began.

Blinking harshly in the bright light of the room your eyes scoured the room and fell upon a tall, brunette man towering over you. He scratched at the stubble sprawled across his jawline as if searching for the correct opening line.

“Good evening, Miss Underwood. I trust you slept well?”

Of course, you couldn’t respond. The three layers of leather gagging you tightly stole every semblance of speech from you. Whoever your captor was, he knew how to tie a good knot. Regardless, you let out a few incoherent whimpers in the hope his curiosity would set you free from your verbal incarceration.

Sure enough, the man leaned forward and a finger curled around the gag releasing your jaw.

“Your family have given my family and I nothing but bullshit for years,” he seethed, beginning to circle around you like a vulture to its prey. “It’s about time they learned a valuable lesson, don’t you think?”

“Wha—who are you? What about my family?” You panted frantically, unsure if those first words to your captor would be your last. Pathetic last words but necessary nonetheless. “I haven’t spoken to my family in 15 years, my mother disowned me when I was a teenager.”

“Is that so?” He abruptly ceased circling behind you, the withdrawal of his footsteps leaving a thick, tense silence. Suddenly, he lunged toward you and a sharp, cool sensation coursed across your throat. A knife held firmly against your jugular.

“But their blood runs in these veins, right?”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, breaths becoming shallower and sharper as you tried to inch away from the blade. You swallowed harshly.

“The good thing is, if you die here, that’s one less of your precious dynasty walking about in public and fucking up my life.”

Spinning around the chair, he nudged your legs apart and looked you square in the eye, turning the knife to balance by its tip against your throat. The sharp point nicked your skin ever so slightly, replacing the cool metal of the blade with a flood of heat as your blood rushed to greet the wound.

Another source of heat entirely travelled south, between your thighs. You clenched your legs together in a bid to conceal it from your captor, completely ignorant of the fact you were enclosing his legs with yours.

“Oh I see,” he nodded knowingly with a greedy smirk dancing across his lips as he twisted the knife on its point. “This is turning you on, isn’t it?”

You gulped and shook your head, earning a jab of the blade further into your neck so far you could feel your pulse reverberating on the steel.

“I’ll give you one more chance to get that right, kitten,” he chuckled as he slicked back his brunette locks, tongue darting out to the corner of his lips as he concentrated on twirling the knife on your jugular.

“Ye — yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He sighed deeply before slowly trailing the switchblade down your throat between the valley of your breasts, leaving a delicious, burning scratch in its wake. “Now tell me where you want it.”

You searched his eyes for mercy as your cunt began throbbing against your silk panties, wetness pooling and sinking into the fabric leaving you wriggling in the seat. Your captor’s eyes travelled down to the root of your discomfort, the burning between your thighs.

“Really? As you wish—“

“Wait,” you cut him off, screwing up your forehead as you frantically attempted to decipher his identity. “Who are you anyway? Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“All in good time, Miss Underwood,” he silenced you with the travelling of the knife to the weak point between the cups of your bra, quirking an eyebrow and meeting your gaze with his deep blue eyes. “May I?”

You nodded nonchalantly and with a flick of his wrist, the blade split your bra wide open. Your back arched and a soft hiss escaped your lips as the length of the blade drew blood, a gentle trail of crimson following swiftly behind it. The man sank to his knees in front of you, leaning in to latch his lips onto the scratch, sucking almost greedily while your eyes emphatically rolled into the back of your head.

With a gratuitous pop, his lips left your skin and his blade returned to trace a slick straight line down over your navel, stopping at the waistband of your panties.

“These too?” He hummed, a delicious glint in his eye that evoked a reckless ‘yes’ from your tongue and his switchblade making light work of tearing the silk in half.

His free hand gently peeled the soaking fabric aside to expose your glistening cunt, delicate dribbles of arousal spilling down your thighs that he gratefully retrieved with the tip of his finger traced gently between your folds, his digits raced to drip your wetness on his tongue. A satisfied moan leapt from both of your lips as his brief touch sent you into ecstasy.

“You like that, Miss Underwood?” He cooed, his fingers journeying back to rub lazy, featherlight circles on your clit while he hissed at the way your sensitive spot swelled with every brush of his fingertips.

His gaze travelled up the faint scratch mark effectively splitting your chest in half and discovered your head thrown back in pleasure and your breaths rapid. He reached up and yanked your chin back down to face him, meeting your lust-blown eyes with his determined glare.

“Your pretty little cunt is being very greedy tonight, baby girl,” he drawled. “All of this for a total stranger? Well now I’ve tasted you in more ways than one, I don’t think we’re strangers anymore, do you?”

Your clouded vision darted between each of his deep blue soul-exposing eyes and nodded eagerly. The cool side of his blade landed directly onto your exposed clit, making you keen your hips into the cool touch and ball your restrained hands into fists.

He sighed contentedly as he watched you lose yourself under the intoxicating power of his switchblade, revelling in how he had only touched you with his hands once.

“As you’ve been such a good girl for me, I owe you an introduction.”

He pressed the flat blade deeper onto your swollen clit and smiled from ear to ear.

“Miss Underwood, my name is Duncan Shepherd and I think I’ll keep you.”

[acrcsstheuniversee]

Anon Request:

Could you do a dom reader, sub Ringo and sub George threesome thing, with some teasing and sadomasochism? Thanks. (:

A Little Help From My Friends

Pairings: sub!George Harrison x sub!Ringo Starr x male!reader

Warnings: sadomasochism, violence, kink, threesome, humiliation 

Rating: Mature

Words: 2000+

Summary: It’s 1962. You are friends with George and Ringo who started dating shortly after Ringo joined The Beatles. They invite you over to have dinner at Ringo’s house but they set it up in hopes to get you to help them out with something.

Author’s Note: Hey anon! You didn’t specify the sex and/or gender of the reader so I made them cisgender male. I hope that’s okay with you. Otherwise, I just got creative with it, hah. I’ve never written a sadomasochism story. I hope everyone enjoys! I’m kind of nervous. Sorry the beginning kind of drags, so I understand if you skip to the porn. This was a challenge, so please don’t rip me a new one. I also got carried away with the word count.

*This story is fiction and written for leisure. Aspects of this story will not be historically accurate. I do not own The Beatles. I don’t make money off this. 

You rang the door bell of Ringo’s small house with your free hand, the other holding a bottle wine for the dinner. It wasn’t new for any of you to hold a dinner occasionally. It was strange for young men to enjoy cooking so you all kept it among yourselves.

Ringo and George recently told you that they started dating. You noticed they hit it off pretty well since you were good friends their competing bands prior to what well-known local band The Beatles are today.

Loud foot steps were heard from behind the door until suddenly a smiling Ringo revealed himself.

“Hey!” he said. “Long time, no see!”

“Like I didn’t see you yesterday, Ringo.” you laughed, stepping into the house.

Almost immediately, the aroma of garlic and chicken filled your nose and got stronger closer you walked towards the kitchen where you found George wearing a pink apron which looked like it belonged to Ringo’s mom who wasn’t home. He was craving freshly baked chicken and putting chucks of meat onto three plates.

“Smells good in here, Geo!” you said, making him glance to see who it was.

“Hey, thanks. I’m almost done, okay? Just take a seat in the dining room.”

You did as he said and sat at a nicely set up table for the three of you. Ringo came up from behind you and took the wine bottle out of your hand to pour into the glasses before taking a seat himself.

“Okay everyone, it’s done.” George came in holding all three plates and placing them gently in front of everyone. “I hope it came out right. It’ll definitely be better than what you cooked last time, Ringo.” he joked.

Ringo playfully kicked George’s shin and giggled. “Shut up!”

“Alright, alright. Let’s all eat now, yeah?” you laughed watching how much they were getting along.

You knew John and Paul as well, but things weren’t as natural with them like it was with George and Ringo. You weren’t sure what it was but you suspected it was because you slept with a couple of their friends---that were men of course. They were never rude to you about being gay. It seemed more about how awkward it was for them to find out on how many of their friends you’ve slept with. It’s safe to say that you’ve been around. You just teased that they were just jealous that you got more action than them. It was all fun and games, really.

The three of you continued to eat and laugh but the feeling in the room changed dramatically when the both of them started to ask questions about your sex life. It’s not like it bothered you though. You all talked about sex often but it almost seemed like they were interrogating you---especially about your experience in threesomes.

What was that like? Did you like it? How many people were there? Were you okay with that? That turned you on? Did you hurt them? You like hurting people?

“Guys, guys, guys,” you looked up at both of them. They looked scared and glanced at each other as if they were waiting for the other to say something. “What’s up with all ... these questions?”

Ringo bit his lip and stared at his boyfriend until George finally spoke up. 

“Well... w-we were wondering if... erm...” he dropped his eye contact with you and started to toy with his food. “...if you would show us-- or uhh... well, tell us more about threesomes...?”

Your eyes widened. Ringo and George were both staring at the table in embarrassment, scared to hear your answer.

You adjusted yourself in your seat and thought to yourself how funny this all was. You weren’t offended at all. You were actually quite flattered they even asked. Before the silence can go any longer, you just said, “Yes.”

Both of their heads perked and their faces lifted into small, shy smiles.

“Is this part of the reason why we held this dinner in Ringo’s empty house?” you teased.

Ringo turned red and nodded hesitantly. You smirked and stood up, making your way to Ringo’s room. Ringo and George looked at each other, unsure what to do until you yelled, “Well, I can’t show you if you’re over there now, can I?”

You heard them jolt up and made their way into the room where you sat at the edge of Ringo’s full-sized bed.

“Sit, both of you.” you said sternly, patting the spots on both sides of you. They complied without question. These twinks know exactly what they’re doing. “Well, go on then.”

They looked at each other before leaning over you to kiss one another, right in front of your face. You stared at the way their lips folded over each other and their tongues occasionally making an appearance as they slipped into each other’s mouths. Ringo slipped his hand onto your crotch and started to rub your already existing bulge. George moaned into their kiss as it got wetter. You can tell he wanted more. To help him out, you unbuttoned his jeans impatiently and snaked your hand under his slacks to grab his hard penis then started to pump, making him moan into the kiss again.

At this rate, you felt yourself getting bored. You let go George’s dick and pushed them apart.

“Take off your clothes, now.” you ordered. They stood up and obeyed again but this time even quicker. You stood up too and walked up to both of them and just stared at their bodies.

“Umm-” Ringo croaked out but was immediately interrupted by your hand quickly traveling across this face, making him yelp from the sudden strike. He held his cheek and stared at you with his big eyes. You looked down and saw Ringo’s dick only stiffen out more, making smirk. 

“Shut up and both of you bend over the bed.”

They rushed over and did as you said close together. You stared at their tight, pale asses and began to undo your belt, wanting nothing more put to make them red and the room fill with whines. Both of their cheeks clenched when they heard the sound of the metal buckle jingling, making you smirk. You folded the belt in half, holding the ends together.

Without any warning you gave both of them lash on the ass, making them squeal. “Oh two have been bad. Thinking nasty things.” You lashed them again, making the pink appear.

“We’re sorry. W-We just wanted-” Ringo talked again. You towered over him, having your hard member pressed against his ass through your jeans and wrapped the belt around his throat, pulling it to make him gasp for air.

“I swear to god Richie, you talk so god damn much.” you growled into his ear, pulling the belt more, making his back arch. George just stared as his boyfriend chocked under your belt, feeling his dick twitch at the sight.

“For that, you’ll be first.” you said as you unbuttoned your jeans with your other hand to release your member. You spat into your hand and coated your dick with it.

“Wait, I-” Before he could finish his sentence, you shoved your dick in his ass, making him yell. You pulled the leather around his neck tigher as you pumped in and out of his heat, forcing him to arch his back more. Ringo just moaned through his teeth with his eyes shut, feeling the pain and pleasure of how rough you were being.

You looked over at George who patiently waiting his turn. To give him some attention, you coated your pointer and middle finger in spit and squeezed them into his ass. The thin man moaned at how sharp the penetration was and gripped the sheets.

After about a minute, you stopped everything you were doing and instructed them to get fully on the bed. You had Ringo lay down, George on all fours with his ass to you and his face in between his boyfriend’s legs.

You lined yourself up with George’s hips and inserted yourself into his heat, causing him to moan. You pushed his head down to swallow Ringo’s cock and held him there by gripping his hair. Ringo started to moan you made George deep throat all while fucking him from behind. George was tighter than Ringo by a lot. You can tell he was very new to all of this. No wonder he was quiet.

Your free hand slapped George’s already pink cheeks over and over again as you pushed yourself into him. The room was filled with sounds of their moans, gagging, clapping, and slapping--just how you liked it.

You stopped slapping his ass and reached around to stroke his leaking penis. You pulled his head up from sucking off Ringo to arch his back to fuck him harder.

“Nnnghhh.. Ah! ...Mmm, ahh!” George whined through his wet and swollen lips. Ringo stared and stroked himself at the sight. You looked right into Ringo’s eyes as you continued to fuck his boyfriend roughly right in front of him.

You smirked before moving your grip in his hair to around his throat, allowing all five of your digits to tighten to make him gasp for air.

“Tell Ringo how good this feels...” you whispered into his ear as you stared at Ringo.

George peeked at Ringo with his half hooded eyes and croaked out, “Richie... It feels.... nghh... so good...” Ringo began to stroke himself faster after hearing his boyfriend’s strained voice.

“Good boy... now cum... but I want you to look at your boyfriends face when you do it,” you began to speed up your thrusts and jerked his dick faster.

George forced his eyes open to stare at Ringo who continued to jerk off. The thinner man felt the heat in his body move to his crotch as he neared climax. He felt every hard thrust in his asshole, making him slightly shake before his member released its load on the sheets. “Ngghhhh... fuck...”

You let go of him and pushed his limp body off to the other side of the bed to crawl over to Ringo who hasn’t quite finished it.

Your eyes met his baby blues and without even saying anything, you made sure he knew you were about to destroy him. Ringo bit his lip as you gripped the insides of his thighs and pushed them up giving you perfect access to his entrance. You inserted yourself once again and slammed inside of him, making sure to hit his g-spot every time. The smaller man let out sinful noises as you went balls deep. He was so pretty and more experienced than George was. You let go of his thighs, leaving marks where your fingers were and moved one hand to grip his throat.

He began to gasp for air, placing his hands on yours in attempt to peal them off but was interrupted again but a slap to the face by your free hand. Ringo’s dick began to leak precum. He loved it.

“Your the worst one, you know that?” you said, slapping him across his red face again. “I love seeing you helpless.”

“I-I’m... going... to cum,” he squeaked out.

“Yeah? Do it. With no touch.” you smirked.

You tightened your grip around his throat, making him close his eyes to focus on breathing and cumming without any stroking as you continued to pound into him.

“Hurry up!” you whacked him again, making him wince at the sharp pain that remained on his cheek.

“I-I’m ...mm...” he bit his lip as the sensation in his lower body built up. “Nnnghhh...” groaned as his semen squired onto his stomach, laying limp from the painful pleasure rushing through his body.

You let go and pulled out of him and began to stroke yourself to prepare for your load.

“Both of you come here.” you ordered.

George perked up from his high and crawled over to meet your dick face-to-face as did Ringo. They looked up at you and opened their mouths with their tongues out.

“Oh fuck...” you moaned as your pumped your dick, twisting your wrist at the top. They looked so good when their faces were all red and sweaty--just visibly worn out.

After a couple more seconds, your load came hard onto their faces. They closed their eyes as drips of your cum sprayed onto their cheeks and nose--most of it landing on George.

You collapsed onto you ass and laid back onto the bed. The two of them wiped the cum off their faces and crawled over to you, cuddling up to both of your sides. You wrapped your arms around both of them and stroked their backs gently.

“How was that?” you asked with your eyes closed.

All you got was a small nod from both of them as they began to doze off and that was good enough for you.

The End

[cchellacat]

What’s Mine is Yours

Love All The Marvel Ships Challenge 

Day Six ~ Wearing The Other’s Clothes

Darcy knows Tuesdays are a bad idea, the worst in fact, because according to Jane’s flow charts, graphs and computer simulations this is the day of the week that Darcy is most likely to be kidnapped on.  You would think with that sort of data available she would have been more careful when deciding to do a quick run out to the nice Italian two blocks down to get their lunch, but alas the odds were against her.  She and Jane had been awake for three days cataloguing the data from some once in a lifetime astronomical event and SOMEONE had forgotten to change the day calendar hanging on the office wall.  With barely a glance at the date, Darcy assumed it was Monday and went on her merry way.  She didn’t even reach the Italian before she was bagged and tagged by some evil Hench-men.

This was a first for Darcy, usually it was the goons from A.I.M that rocked up to pick up her fine ass. Today she’d hit the kidnapping lottery and won the grand-prize, it looked like her current captors were some branch of Hydra.  She wasn’t too worried, it’s not like she hadn’t been in this situation before, after all, surely one brand of kidnappers couldn’t be worse than another? Right?

Wrong, so, so wrong.  She’d been strip searched and them stuffed into a hospital gown before they threw her in a cell.  To add insult to injury, she was freezing, no heating, no blanket and when she’d complained, loudly, someone had thrown water over her.  Which is how she came to be sitting in a cell with hypothermia setting in.

By the time the sounds of possible rescue appeared she was nearly numb from the cold.

When the door opened she didn’t have the strength to do more than shiver in the corner where she was curled up.  The man who stepped into her line of sight lowered his gun quickly once he had assessed she was not a threat hunkered down to look at her.  She didn't recognize him but the gleaming metal arm sort of gave it away anyway.

“Hey, I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?  Can you walk sweetheart?”

“I can try.”  She told him through chattering teeth.  He eyed the loose gown, still damp, clinging to her skin and made a noise of anger.  She was only vaguely aware of his muttered cursing.  It turned out she couldn’t walk after all, hell she could hardly uncoil from her foetal position.  He had dispassionately tugged the wet material off of her and then she was enveloped in warmth.  The hoodie had had taken off and put on her fell all the way down to her knees.  The last thing she remembered as he carried her from the facility was how fucking grateful she was for that ratty warm hoodie that smelled like week-old man sweat and gun powder.

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

Being on the run with the Winter Soldier was a fuck ton of fun, thought no one ever. It was however an education.  Darcy had tagged along after him more out of a sense of fear at first.  He was one scary motherfucker.  What little she remembered of leaving the base had been the veritable trail of bodies laid out along their exit path.  The files he had stolen were all digital and encrypted.  With Darcy’s ability to hack, he’d been happy to provide the equipment she needed to help decode the files.   There was all sorts of interesting suff on there.  Like why they took Darcy in the first place and it had nothing to do with Jane.  Turns out she had stepped on a few toes when she had hacked the Shield database years ago, that she had information she didn’t know was important and though it wasn’t clear how, they had discovered that she had an eidetic memory.  They had brought her in for interrogation, luckily the same base they had taken her too had also been on Bucky’s list of revenge hits.

So here she was, three months later, kitted out head to toe in black Kevlar and leather watching his six like some sort of femme fatal from a cheesy porn thriller.  At this point she’s not sure if she’s sorry not to be going back to her old life just yet or if she’s fallen so deep down the rabbit hole that she just doesn’t want to leave anymore.

Bucky, as he insists, she call him, is one broody son of a bitch but underneath the gruff exterior and the muscle there’s a vulnerable guy desperate to find meaning in his life again.

She stays awake some nights unable to sleep for the tossing and turning and occasional shouts that come from his room.  If she ever gets the chance to hurt the people that hurt him she’d gonna take it with both hands and eviscerate the fuckers.  Which is why she’s following him into an occupied Hydra base at dark o’clock in the morning.

Bucky’s sure that the book he’s looking for will be here, or at least copies of it.   He’s explained as best he could about the trigger words and how it sends him out of his own head leaving only a highly suggestible assassin behind.   Darcy had him wear coms in both ears, if he starts acting funny because someone begins spluttering bullshit phrases or words she’d blast Metallica so hard he’ll bust an ear drum.  Better that than him gone and her dead.

They get in and out with little fuss.  Hydra will be down around 55 personnel and a base in Sweden but she and Bucky bear are up one copy of the infamous red book and a lead on where Karpov, the last holder of the original copy might be living.

She showers and gets ready for bed, everything she owns is in the wash right now, she’d been soaked in blood down to her underwear.  He’d been pretty brutal tonight, in fact in the months she’s known him he’s never been so violent.  It’s her fault, she knows, she let her guard down for a just a second and one of the guards got the drop on her.

He’d had her by her hair, twisting it till her head was wrenched to one side, the cold metal of the gun he held, pressed up under her jaw.  He’d tried to get Bucky to surrender, but Darcy refused to be the cause of his recapture, besides, she’d probably be dead if he was.  The second the goon had focused solely on The Winter Soldier and started to spout off random words in Russian Darcy had brought her arms up, breaking the hold the goon had on her and ripping a chunk of hair out of her scalp so hard in the process that she’d yelped even as she ducked down.  The three knives that buried themselves in the operatives throat cut open his carotid in a dramatic spray of blood that had drenched her in the coppery fluid.  The guy had been dead before he hit the ground and Bucky had grabbed her roughly, checking for injuries.  She joked the only thing hurt was her pride, he’d taken that like a led balloon and then tipped her chin up with his hand and made her look at him.  They had stared at each other, her feeling scared and exposed and him vibrating with fear and anger.  The kiss he planted on her felt like it came out of nowhere and at the same time somehow inevitable.  The way she had responded hungrily had probably left him in no way uncertain how she felt about him.  But since getting back to the crappy apartment they were renting he hadn’t said a word to her.

When she leaves the bathroom she finds he’s left her a t-shirt of his to wear to bed.  It’s soft and worn from many washes and although it’s clean the scent of him still clings to it.  It skims the back of her thighs, half way to her knees and she sinks thankfully into her bed, pulling up the covers and hoping for sleep.

This time when she wakes to hear him thrashing on the other side of the wall, she makes her way to his room and crawls into his bed.  She whispers soothing words and chatters till he finally calms down.  He comes awake slowly and she wonder if she should have left before he woke up but then decides that if they’re gonna make this work they both have to acknowledge that things have changed.

When his eyes open he gives the softest smile to her and reaches out and pulls her close till she’s snuggled into his chest, both his arms encompassing her.  It’s like that for a long time, them just lying there, touching each other innocently, mostly, as they cuddle.  The warmth of him is hard to ignore through the thin t-shirt and she wraps herself tightly around him.  He buries his nose in her hair and breathes her in, the hot puff of air as he exhales tickles her ear and sends a spark of want through her. That’s when he speaks, the words he says feel like cold water being poured over her.  

“We have to go in.”   Darcy tries to wrap her brain around his words.  In the beginning she had tried talking him into going to the Avengers for help but he’d resisted.

“We…. Or me?”  The silence echo’s around her question.  It feels as though there is no air while she waits for his answer.  

She leans up on her elbow and stares down at him in the dimness of the street light filtering through the windows.  The shadows play across his face as they take each other in.

His hand rises to cup her face and she presses her cheek into his palm, he gently tugs her bottom lip with his thumb and Darcy closes her eyes and lets him draw her down into a kiss that makes her spine arch and her toes curl.  It escalates quickly, the heat between them igniting.  He flips her onto her back and she eagerly parts her thighs, cradling him between them.  The gasp she makes when he presses his growing hardness into her core spurs him to rock against her.  Darcy whimpers into his mouth, her hips grinding up into him with each thrust. Tugging on his hair to get his attention he stops, both of them panting.

“We, or me?”  She isn’t going to let this go any farther until she knows what it means, for both of them.  Is this just one night?  An accumulation of stress and close quarters and life and death?  Or is it more?  Maybe she fell out of the idea of fairy tales long ago, but in this second she wished for her own.  It didn’t have to be easy, it didn’t matter if there were obstacles and murderous organisations after them, she just needed this, him and her, together, because she knew she was falling for him. Had, in fact, already fallen in the instant his ratty hoodie had been gently tugged over her cold naked body in that facility, what seemed like a life time ago.

Bucky knew what she was asking.  But he had been running for a long time.   Even before the war he’d always felt he was running form something.   From settling down, from making a commitment, from the fucking war, god knows if he could have found a way to avoid the fucking draft he would have.  He’s been running his whole damn life, maybe it’s time to stop.   The fact was, he wanted to stop.  It was time to face what had happened, time to fix what he could.  Maybe if he took the chance, he could have this, could have her, be happy.  She’d wormed her way under his skin with her strength and her humour, the way she never gave up, determination running through every inch of her.  She wasn’t scared of him, didn’t pull away in disgust from him, even after what he’d done yesterday.  Even soaked in the blood of the man he’d murdered she had kissed him.  Kissed him back like she meant it, like it was a promise.   Staring into her eyes he makes a decision, it’s time to stop running and start living.

“We…  Us…  If that’s what you want.”  The way he says it, she knows he means more than just them going in together, he wants what she wants, them, a future.

“Yes…  that’s what I want. Together, we do it together.”

“Okay.”

“And I’m keeping the t-shirt.”

“What’s mine is yours sweetheart.”  He says as he peels it off her.

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

5 years later

It’s been a rough week for Darcy, she’d done nothing but potter around the apartment organising and reorganising like crazy.  Sleepless nights plagued her constantly, no matter how many times she tossed and turned she just couldn’t sleep.

Bucky was due home in two days, but she wished it would be sooner.  His work for the Avengers was important and she didn’t begrudge the time he spent on missions.  It was just that right now, right now she just really needed him.

Earlier on, while sorting through the closet she had found an old duffel bag, one that they must have brought with them from Europe when they finally came back to the states for help.  In the bottom of the bag she found a ratty old hoodie, the ratty old hoodie, in fact.   Bringing it to her nose she had inhaled the musky scent of him and promptly sneezed from the dust.  She’d wasted no time putting it in the wash.

Ensconced on the couch later that evening, wearing nothing but the hoodie and a thick afghan tucked over her lap watching an episode of Call the Midwife she felt herself finally drifting off.

It was the warm hand rubbing her belly over the hoodie that woke her, the feeling of the tiny limbs kicking back against his hold bringing a smile to her face.

“You’re back.”  There was nothing better than a Bucky shaped surprise, on any day of the week.

“You look tired doll, little bump keeping you up?”

“Little bump doesn’t like it when you’re gone.”  Her hand covers his and he settled into the couch and brings her onto his lap.  Ever since she told him she was pregnant he’s treated her like spun glass, no matter how many times she tells him, he still treats her like the wrong knock or jolt might break her.  It’s endearing but frustrating.  Right now though, she’ll take it.

“Where on earth did you find this old thing?”  He asks, plucking at the material of the hoodie where it stretched over her tummy.

Shuffling round a little she looks up at him and kisses along his jaw.

“I found it…. In the … back … of the closet.”

“Still looks good on you doll.”

“True, but I bet it would look better on the floor.”

At that he lifts her into the air and makes for the bedroom.

Stumbling over the hoodie the next morning as he goes to make some breakfast for his very pregnant wife, he agrees, the hoodie looks great on the floor. Still, he picks it up and folds it carefully.  He has a feeling she’ll be wanting to wear it some more.

NEXT

@captain-rogers-beard

[dipulb3]

2020 BMW X6 M Competition review: Fast and stylish with a dash of practicality

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2020-bmw-x6-m-competition-review-fast-and-stylish-with-a-dash-of-practicality-2/

2020 BMW X6 M Competition review: Fast and stylish with a dash of practicality

Are you in the market for a high-performance SUV with a fast roofline? Is the 600-horsepower BMW X6 M not quite enough? Well, don’t worry, BMW has just the thing: the 2020 BMW X6 M Competition, which offers a touch more power, tighter chassis tuning and a little more style, too.

Like

Big performance chops

Stylish with respectable practicality

Cushy interior

Don’t Like

Uncommunicative steering

Can be overly complex

Large blind spots

A mightier X6 M

Like its squared-off X5 M Competition sibling, the X6 M Competition packs substantial firepower under its hood. BMW’s familiar 4.4-liter twin-turbocharged V8 is here, packing 617 horsepower. Torque matches that of the non-Competition model, checking in at 553 pound-feet available between 1,800 and 5,690 rpm.

Flick the engine into its Sport or Sport Plus setting and performance is ample, with zero quibbles about boost lag. Drop the hammer and the X6 M Competition romps to 60 mph in 3.7 seconds, which is one-tenth of a second quicker than the regular X6 M. Triple-digit speeds happen in a hurry, and will eventually top out at 177 mph with available M Driver’s Package, the two-mode active exhaust system putting out a grumble all the while. Without the Driver’s Package, things stop pulling at just 155 mph.

2020 BMW X6 M Competition: Big time performance and luxury

See all photos

Routing power through the M-tuned, rear-biased all-wheel-drive system is an eight-speed automatic transmission. As usual, the ZF-sourced gearbox goes about its business seamlessly, ripping off quick and well-timed shifts in full-automatic mode, and offers respectable up- and downshifts in manual mode most of the time. Occasionally, there’s a split-second delay when I summon a lower gear with the left shift paddle.

No doubt, there’s no shortage of muscle in the Competition for the street, or even a racetrack if an owner decides to throw the swoopy people-mover on one for whatever reason. For high-load situations like that, the drivetrain should keep its cool, delivering consistent performance with the help of six radiators, four water pumps and a dedicated transmission cooler.

But what’s equally important is that the drivetrain does have a kinder, gentler side. Select the Efficiency setting and the X6 moves along in a respectable manner. It’s quiet, the transmission short shifting up gears for optimal fuel economy, returning an EPA-estimated 13 miles per gallon in the city and 18 mpg on the highway. Throughout a week of mixed driving on surface streets and expressway runs, I observed 15 mpg, matching the EPA’s combined-cycle rating. Not exactly tree-hugging levels of efficiency, but not horrific, all things considered.

A twin-turbo V8 with 617 horsepower and 553 pound-feet of torque make the X6 M Competition a very fast runner.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

Dynamic options

If you think the Competition’s engine and transmission offer a lot of adjustability, wait until you dive into the chassis menus. For those who like to tinker, they’ll love the ability to manipulate the three-mode dampers, two-mode steering and two-mode brakes individually of one another. I personally think that’s overkill, and like-minded individuals can still just punch up a preprogrammed profile for everything and roll out.

Dial everything up to full kill and the X6 handles well for a tall hatchback, weighing in at 5,375 pounds. There’s an acceptable amount of body shift at turn in, as well as noticeable dive under braking. The mammoth, staggered 295/35ZR21 front and 315/30ZR22 rear Michelin Pilot Sport 4S tires provide all the grip anyone will responsibly need for spirited street driving.

The X6’s steering is where BMW drops the ball. In the Sport setting, it offers some weight, but is missing out when it comes to feel and feedback. Having two brake performance profiles is also interesting — the Sport setting makes it difficult to brake smoothly on the street. But there’s a lot of braking power on offer, with six-piston front calipers biting down on big old 15.5-inch vented and cross-drilled rotors and single-piston rear calipers with 14.9-inch vented and drilled discs.

Better handling through big tires and brakes.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

Like the drivetrain, when you’re not totally going for it the chassis can be relaxed. Put everything in Comfort and the ride quality softens to smooth out small impacts. You’ll still hear audible thuds from most of the expansion joins you come across on the big tires, though. Steering weight lightens with a slight delay in response off center that’s fine for puttering around town. And the brake pedal offers far better ability to modulate stopping power for smoother braking. 

M looks

To visually backup its rousing performance credentials and set itself apart from lesser versions, the X6 M wears an exclusive front bumper with bigger air intake openings, a larger kidney grille with black bars, flared wheel arches, M front fender gills, aero side mirrors and a rear diffuser with quad exhaust outlets. The Competition takes things a small step further with awesome M star-spoke wheels and black badging, mirror caps, rear diffuser and exhaust pipes.

There are some first-class luxury appointments inside, too. The Competition comes standard with full Merino leather on the seats and dashboard, M steering wheel and shifter, with tri-color accent stitching, carbon fiber trim, an Alcantara headliner and panoramic sunroof. My test car also sports supremely comfortable and supportive M front seats with three-stage heating and ventilation, and a massage function that’s great to have on journeys both long and short. Even the front cup holders are heated and cooled.

Not only are the Competition’s seats heated and cooled, but they are massaging, too.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

Minus the big blind spots due to the X6’s fast roofline, the cabin offers lots of flexibility. Space is serviceable for occupants in front and back, with enough headroom still for average-height adults in the rear. There’s plenty of cubbies to stash items and generous cargo-carrying capacity. While the trunk area isn’t as tall as the X5, it’s still deep, providing 27.4 cubic feet of space, which grows to 59.6 with the back seats down.

Strong tech hand

On the technology front, the M Competition is packed full of it. Infotainment centers around BMW’s iDrive 7 software on a 12.3-inch center touchscreen, which can also be managed via the dial on the center console or gesture controls. It’s got navigation, an optional Bowers & Wilkins surround-sound setup, Wi-Fi hotspot, Bluetooth and Apple CarPlay capabilities. And since it’s the latest iDrive 7 system, it’ll also be able to run wireless Android Auto soon. While it might be overwhelming at first, iDrive is a responsive and intuitive interface to work through with vibrant graphics.

BMW’s iDrive 7 infotainment system will soon be able to run Apple CarPlay and Android Auto.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

There’s also no shortage of power points sprinkled throughout the X6’s interior, with a wireless charge pad, USB-A, USB-C and 12-volt sockets easily accessible to folks in front. People in the rear have a 12-volt outlet on the back of the center console that really should be a couple of USB ports instead nowadays.

The driver-assistance menu is also sizable. Blind-spot monitoring helps with the X6’s mondo sightline issues, and lane-departure warning, forward-collision warning with automatic emergency braking, rear cross-traffic alert, parking sensors and a 360-degree camera are standard fare. Things like adaptive cruise control, lane-keep assist, active side collision protection and BMW’s Extended Traffic Jam Assistant — which can accelerate, steer and stop the car at below 40 mph in heavy traffic situations — are available.

How I’d spec it

If my heart was dead-set on a X6 M Competition, which has a $9,000 price premium over the standard X6 M, I’d resist the urge to get too carried away with options. A Marina Bay Blue metallic paint job is a no-cost hue, as is the black and Midrand Beige interior combo. The lone option box I will check is for the $3,600 Executive Package because massaging heated and cooled front seats and remote engine start are worth it. All in, my Competition rings in at $122,195, including $995 for destination, to undercut the $131,745 test car you see pictured here.

With a healthy number of options, this X6 M Competition will cost you $131,745.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

A slight letdown

Yes, the 2020 X6 M Competition is the most potent and capable X6 BMW has built to date. Throw in the fact that the third-generation X6 is the best looking one yet (admittedly, not a very high bar) and sports a cushy interior chock full of creature comforts, and it makes it an excellent and very fast daily driver. But as entertaining as stomping the throttle and shooting well past posted speed limits is, this X6 isn’t exceptionally fun or rewarding to push hard and really drive. For anyone looking for an experience like that, something in the Porsche Cayenne Coupe lineup will serve them better.